Chapter 1: The Doctors are In
Chapter Text
Zoey was new to the social sciences department of the University.
It took Zoey longer than she’d have liked to admit to find her office. The Southern California public university campus was much bigger than the one she’d gone to in Seoul. Why would her office be so far from her lecture hall?
She finally found it: room IX. She took her key out and jiggled the handle, humming to herself. Her hum stopped when she realized her office was occupied by a woman in a turtle neck, blazer, and slacks with a long purple braid.
“Oh! Sorry I must have the wrong—“
“Professor Yoo?”
Zoey froze, halfway out the door.
“Y-yes?”
“You’re in the right place. We share offices here.”
Oh. Zoey should have known—she’d been getting emails about budgetary meetings and saw all the discord in their professor slack channel.
Zoey walked into the office. It was small, felt more like a closet than an office. There were three desks- two occupied and one not. She proceeded to walk to and place her things on the vacant desk.
“Thank you— please call me Zoey,” she said to the woman.
“I’m Rumi, unless we’re around students, then I’m Professor Cho.”
Rumi sat straight, with a big warm smile. Her desk was orderly and efficient: enough space to have her laptop, grade, and talk to students across her desk. Behind her was a bookcase with a very tasteful collection of textbooks and interesting knick-nacks like a blue cat bobblehead, one of those birds that bend and touch water, and a newton’s toy with round brains instead of balls.
“Should I call you something else around students?” Rumi asked.
“Oh, um… Yoo is fine.”
Rumi laughed. “I don’t know how polite it will seem if I called out ‘Hey Yoo’ across the quad. People might think we have beef, and I don’t even know you well enough yet.”
Rumi winked, and Zoey short circuited a little. This woman was funny. A little odd, but funny.
A click of the clock on the wall signaled it was the top of the hour.
“Oh,” Rumi said. “It’s officially my hours now. Feel free to unpack, let me know if we disturb you.”
‘We’? Zoey thought. But then she saw Rumi get up, pull down on her blazer, and go to the door to open it. The minute she did, ten freshmen students piled in.
Zoey got the impression that Rumi was one of those beloved Gen Ed professors that taught those big lecture halls full of undeclared students.
“Wait— tell us again that story about the library?”
Professor Cho chuckled. “Before I learned to manage my assignments I ended up pulling two all nighters in a row and then passing out literally in a bookshelf. Little did I know they’d closed the library for an interactive improv final. I woke up and people were very confused when I said a lot of ‘No but’ instead of ‘yes and’” Professor Cho gave a cheeky smile. “Only final I ever failed!”
The group of students erupted in laughter, as if they hadn’t heard the story before.
The hour went on like that- Rumi clarifying the text, or telling impersonal life stories, or giving the freshman advice on how to get through their next four years. Zoey unpacked her bag and loosely paid attention to Professor Cho whilst also reviewing her schedule and taking a better look at the room.
The desk opposite Professor Cho’s couldn’t be more opposite. It was full to the brim everywhere except for one corner. It was almost impressive the way that so many books and papers and files were balanced on top of the surface of the desk. The bookshelf behind it was similar— instead of text books, there were journals of all colors and kinds and of different widths crammed into every space of the shelf, sometimes vertically and sometimes horizontally. The state of the area left Zoey brimming with curiosity.
The hour finished as loudly as it began, students all shouting thank yous and promising to come to the next office hours. The minute the last student was out the door a woman barged in, headed straight for Rumi’s desk.
“Fucking finally, it smells like BO and bad decisions in here. Hi—“
“—Professor Hong, we have our new office mate here. Meet Professor Yoo.”
The woman halted her motion at Rumi’s desk and turned to face Zoey.
This woman was tall, lithe, and angular with thigh-length pink hair. She wore navy pleated shorts and an ivory sleeveless blouse. She was accessorized by an assortment of geometric jewelry— gold studs and triangles and hexagonal hoops in six piercings in her ears, a horseshoe shaped necklace around her neck, and many interesting gold rings on her fingers. The look was finished with a spotless suede Chelsea boot. This person didn’t look like a professor, she looked like a model.
The woman continued to face Zoey but walked across the room until she was sitting on the free corner of the cluttered desk.
“Don’t call me that,” the woman said.
“Don’t call you—?”
“Professor Hong. It’s Mira. Or Mir. Or even Mimi,” she says with a wink at Rumi who looked… annoyed? Agitated? “If you absolutely have to you can call me Hong.”
“And in front of your students?”
Mira sent out a short incredulous laugh. “I gotta stop letting Rumi get to people before me.”
Mira hadn’t answered the question, but Zoey didn’t push. The woman was intimidating to say the least. Confusing to say the most. The desk Mira was leaning on was nothing short of a mess, and this woman was anything but. Her makeup was immaculate and her outfit pristine. Her long body was muscular and unlike Rumi’s very straight posture, hers was relaxed.
Then the door opened, and a ragged looking graduate student entered. They looked like they’d gotten no sleep in maybe four years.
“Mir, take a look— I got invited to guest speak at the gender expansion seminar in Florida,” the student said, voice urgent with something that sounded like excitement and panic.
“Florida? Is that a joke?” Mira laughed, opening a book from her desk and not acknowledging the student farther.
“Mir. I’ll be on a panel with Susan Strong representing student voices,” the student said, same tone as before.
“Aw, tell Susie I said hi,” Mira said, pretending to read.
“Hong.”
Mira finally looked up, her direct eye contact catching Zoey’s breath in her throat.
“Who do you think recommended you, Bobby?” Mira said, finally cracking a smile.
Bobby’s face exploded in a relieved smile.
“You absolute mother fucker.”
Rumi softly clicked her tongue in something like disbelief at Mira’s student calling her that. Zoey’s mouth was ajar.
Then to really drive the point home Mira hugged Bobby, and stuck her tongue out at Rumi. Rumi rolled her eyes and pretended she was busy with work on her computer.
“We have to make intro statements for the brochure,” Bobby said. “What should mine say?”
“Hmmmmm… thank you Mira Hong for cracking my egg.”
Bobby groaned. “Mir, c’mon, this is a big deal.”
Mira cut the jokes for a second.
“Bobby. You’ve got this. You don’t need me for any of this. But I will buy you a beer at Lucky’s tonight.” Mira’s eyes flashed to Rumi with her last remark, smiling at Rumi obviously trying not to react.
Then Mira continued. “Seriously though Lion Man. You’re my favorite trans student and you’ve got this. Just don’t tell my other…” Mira pretended to count her fingers. “Don’t tell any of my other students since they’re all trans.”
“Except Beth,” Bobby said.
Mira gasped. “You’re right, fellow cis ally erasure. But she’s my favorite cis student.”
“It’s tragic you’re cis,” Bobby says, now fully teasing Mira back.
“It really is,” Mira sighed dramatically.
Bobby laughed at that. Zoey realized that in a matter of mere minutes Mira had gotten a student to go from 90% panic to full of self confidence all while teasing them, ignoring them, calling them a nick name, hugging them, and offering to buy them a beer. Zoey could feel the heat coming off of Rumi as she continued to pretend to work.
Bobby confirmed their plans at Lucky’s and then left. There was still 45 minutes of the hour left.
Rumi looked to Mira. “What?” Mira asked, innocently before walking behind her desk, pulling out her laptop and setting it up on the bookshelf behind her so it was a sort of standing desk.
“What courses are you teaching this semester, Zoey?” Rumi asked, obviously trying to dissolve the tension in the room.
“Oh, uh— I teach 206 Theories of Aging and 304 Cognitive Functioning of Older Adults for the Gerontology program.”
Mira snorted. “That’s ironic.”
Zoey looked over to the tall woman, who hadn’t looked up from the screen.
Rumi blanched. “Don’t listen to her. She loves to think she’s edgy when she’s really just being an ass.”
Mira gasped. “Do your freshmen know you curse?”
Rumi narrowed her eyes but otherwise ignored her office mate.
“I teach the intros— intro to psych, intro to sociology, intro to anthropology.”
“Wow all three? What did you get your degree in?”
“I—“
“Don’t be impressed by her workaholicism. She got 3 PhDs at the same time which is something no one should ever do,” Mira said, now looking directly at Zoey. “It sets a bad precedent for her students.”
Rumi stood. “Bad precedent for my students? You’re the one buying them beers—“
There was a knock at the door. Mira looked back to her screen and Rumi sat down and looked to Zoey. Zoey sat confused for a minute until she realized the time. Her hour had begun.
“C-come in!”
In walked a large muscular student Zoey didn’t recognize.
“I’m Abby.” The student said, plopping down in the chair on the other side of Zoey’s desk. “They told me I’d get a better grade if I came to office hours.”
Zoey caught Rumi and Mira knowingly smile.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I think they’re referring to the statistic that students who come to office hours often do better on tests.”
“Okay, great. So I’ll get a good grade on the next test.”
Zoey exhaled. “Abby, right?” Abby nodded. “Do you feel like you can confidently summarize what we’ve been learning in class?”
Abby shook his head.
“Why not, Abby?”
“I can’t remember.”
“You can’t remember why you can’t summarize the material or you have trouble with memory which is making it difficult to summarize the class teachings?”
Zoey noticed Rumi’s one raised eyebrow.
Abby seemed a little lost.
“I can’t remember things for you,” Zoey said. “But I will say I used to have trouble with memory because… well, I did. And now I turn important things into a rap.”
Abby laughed. “A rap?”
“Yeah like…”
As Zoey provides her example of how she passed her final exam of undergrad and Zoey watches Rumi’s other eyebrow meet the height of her first one.
Abby looks entertained at the least.
“Okay, your options: one, take better notes. Two, go get evaluated and set up with tools to help you. Three, drop my class while you can.”
Mira’s smirk can be seen from her profile.
Abby nodded then got up to leave. He turned back for a split second and leaned towards Zoey. “Those rhymes were fire. Do you want to get a beer at Lucky’s later?”
Zoey smiled up at this muscular, handsome idiot and said, “No thanks, I only date people that do their homework.”
Zoey watched Abby leave, and then turned back to watch Rumi and Mira share a look.
“What?”
“You handled that leech well.” Mira offered.
“Uh… thanks? A—“
“Mira means a difficult student. Someone who wastes time at office hours.”
“Oh, thanks I guess.”
They all held eye contact for a moment too long.
“Mira what do you teach?”
Rumi was the one that spoke.
“Mira runs the Gender and Sexuality studies PHD program. The top program in the country based on student count and graduation rate.”
Zoey was confused. These two seemed like they hated each other or are rivals or nemeses or something. Why was Rumi complimenting Mira’s program?
Mira let out a long low groan.
“I don’t care about that shit!” Mira said, in an exasperated tone.
Zoey saw why Rumi said it now. Mira turned to Zoey.
“I help brilliant kids come more into their own and push the ticket on how the world sees and feels and thinks about queer people,” Mira said softly, but with pride.
“I know,” Zoey said in response, taking Mira and Rumi off guard a little bit. “Your program meant a lot to me, even when watching it from afar. You do cool work.”
Zoey watched them both chew on the vague way Zoey just came out to them. They definitely still had curious looks, but they held back.
“So wait— then why did you ask if you already knew?” Mira asked.
“I was trying to be polite,” Zoey added.
Rumi laughed in Mira’s direction, earning her another severe look from Mira.
“Oh Zoey I like you, I’m glad you’re with us.”
“Thank… you?”
Mira looked Zoey up and down.
“First year at a university?”
Zoey sighed in disappointment. That obvious, huh? Zoey nodded.
“Well I’m sorry you’ve been saddled with us. We don’t usually give the best first impressions.”
Once again Zoey was shocked that Mira was using the word ‘we’ in reference to both of them. Maybe Mira was making fun of Rumi? But no, Rumi was smiling softly and nodding.
“I’ve been teaching here five years and Mira seven,” Rumi said. “Seeing as we will be together all year, don’t hesitate if you need something.”
“Oh,” Was Zoey going to be on her toes around these two hot brilliant women all year? “Thank you.”
The time hit seven and Mira packed up, then gave Zoey a look until Zoey packed up too. Rumi stayed at her computer, focused on something.
“Come on Cho, we’ve got to go.” Mira said. “Finish your brilliance later. I have to lock up.”
Rumi looked distressed. “If you’d just give me a key to the office—“
“Not a chance. Next thing I know you’ll be sleeping here if you sleep at all.” Mira added, swinging her keys around her fingers for emphasis. “Plus we gotta walk Zoey out.”
Zoey’s temperature went up a little at that, and she didn’t know if it was out of a surprise for the attention or anger that she was being belittled in this way. She knew her way home.
However the words seemed to work on Rumi, who sighed and closed her laptop.
“I have a key, I could make a copy—“ Zoey offered to Rumi. Rumi shook her head slightly and looked to Mira.
“I know you don’t know her and you’re trying to be polite. Literally if you give her a key I’ll make sure every queer kid on campus hates you.” Mira said. “You didn’t see her when she first started here, and didn’t have to deal with her giant mental health breakdown.”
Zoey’s stomach sank. Being hated by queer kids was worse than Mira threatening violence. The queer friendliness of this campus is why Zoey decided to teach here. Zoey turned to say something in redaction to Rumi, but saw she didn’t need to because Rumi was nodding solemnly like she knew she wasn’t allowed to accept a key.
“Okay, fair. Just don’t make queer kids hate me. My bisexual heart would break.”
Mira nodded at the confirmation she was searching for.
“I’m a dyke. Oh, and if you hear people talking about Professor or Doctor Dyke then check the tone before calling a student out,” Mira says, her chest puffing out a little.
Rumi sighed. “She loves the title. Only time she lets a student call her Professor or Doctor,” Rumi deadpanned. “It’s especially funny when students get in deep water and need her help and they call her Doctor Dyke to be polite. ”
Mira laughed, in a rare moment of agreement with Rumi. “It is hilarious, I hate being called via my PHD honorific. But with ‘dyke’? That’s just comedy.”
Zoey was so… confused? Processing? Who were these two and why did they share an office? Zoey could feel the stress of just being around them in her shoulders.
Finally they all were packed and standing, shuffling out the door.
“What parking lot did you park in?” Rumi asked Zoey.
“Oh, 15B. I know where it is though, so I’ll just say goodnight,” Zoey said, fishing her keys out of her bag.
The silence sat too long before she looked up.
“We’re walking you.” Mira said, voice serious.
Zoey frowned. “No, really—“
Rumi nodded, “We’re walking you. It’s not about thinking you’ll get lost or anything, I promise.”
That wasn’t really a lot to go off of in order to believe her. But the two were not going to let her walk alone, Zoey could tell.
They walked in near silence. For a prolonged time.
“Any plans this weekend?” Zoey asked. Anything to get her out of this awkward hell.
“Rumi’s not going to do any work,” Mira said, her voice failing to be as jovial as she probably wanted.
“And Mira’s going to do what she always does and read all weekend,” Rumi said. “And I’m the workaholic.”
Mira shot a glance at her. “Give me something better to do then.”
Rumi’s mouth shut, then she turned to Zoey. “What about you? Plans with friends or a partner?”
Zoey laughed quietly. “Just moved here so no friends and no partner. I might explore the city a bit. Any suggestions?”
Zoey didn’t see Rumi and Mira share looks.
Mira sighed. “Lucky’s is only the bar where students go. The closer to campus the more students, so go to the Wicked Wolf on the far side of town.”
Rumi nodded. “Excellent cocktails, including NA ones. Mira’s met some partners there.”
Zoey laughed. “I’m surprised you still go back then.”
Mira finally smiled. “Hey I pride myself on being part of the ‘my exes become my friends’ cliche.”
Zoey laughed in response, and Mira’s smile got a little wider.
“I like the aquarium. It’s huge and impressive. Before I lived here my aunt would bring me as a kid,” Rumi said.
“Do… adults go to aquariums?” Zoey asked, trying to soften her words to not offend.
It was Mira who spoke. “Yeah absolutely, it’s Rumi’s favorite place to take dates. I’m a little surprised she told you the secret. It’s one of her favorite moves.”
The confusion just kept building, despite how much fun Zoey was now having in this conversation. I guess if you’re forced to be in quarters with people so opposite to you and you have to work on the same extended faculty you sort of can’t avoid learning things about one another.
Zoey was relieved to see her car. She felt exhausted from the social tennis match that was Rumi and Mira.
“It’s cute,” Mira said earnestly at Zoey’s electric blue Honda Fit.
“It was very nice meeting you today Zoey,” Rumi said. “I hope we haven’t scared you away.”
Zoey laughed a bit too loud. “Definitely a memorable first day!”
Mira smiled at that, and Rumi and Mira both stayed to wave Zoey off before turning to leave for their cars. Obviously there must be a closer parking lot. Zoey was going to study the maps this weekend and find it.
Chapter 2: The Incident
Summary:
Zoey addresses an issue with her student. Mira and Rumi are impressed.
Warning! A slur is used in this, it is starred out, it is related to the main conflict of the chapter. It is used rather casually and also addressed.
Notes:
Zoey has to find space to be her own professor so she takes advantage of an opportunity to do so, even in the shadow of giants.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The first couple weeks of the semester went smoother than Zoey expected. Rumi and Mira’s bickering never ceased, but Zoey started to get used to it and actually looked forward to it. They were entertaining.
Their students were entertaining. Zoey’s favorite part of her day became watching the transition of Rumi’s hour into Mira’s. Rumi’s horde of freshmen would pass two or three of Mira’s graduate students. Zoey loved watching the student’s faces.
“Gosh it’s so fun to watch their thoughts dance across their faces. I'm sure some of them have never seen a trans person before," Zoey said one afternoon. Mira's students had only popped by to invite Mira to one of their art shows. Zoey had a feeling Mira never missed anything her students invited her to. "The looks of curiosity and recognition and attraction and jealousy and admiration and…"
"I know, sometimes I can hear the moment their lives change forever," Rumi laughed, not looking up from her laptop.
Mira didn’t say anything, but gave a soft look to Zoey in agreed appreciation.
“And then sometimes you see a couple that just…” Zoey pondered how to put it.
“Those students fail my classes,” said Rumi definitively.
Zoey was surprised. Rumi was not the type of person to fail a student based on their beliefs, so Zoey had to try to figure out what she meant. Rumi didn’t clarify. Mira didn’t look at either of them, but Zoey could see her smiling in a way that Zoey couldn’t place.
It was two days later that the incident happened.
Mira’s hour ended with a student actually still talking to her for once. Bobby and Mira were in a fascinating conversation about gender theory that was so intellectual that Zoey couldn’t make more than three of their sentences make sense to her brain.
What Zoey did understand was that Mira was allowing Bobby to stand on even ground with her. Bobby was going to be a professor after graduation. Was eventually going to be a peer to Mira— maybe not at the same school but definitely in the field. Mira was no longer teaching Bobby, Mira was collaborating with them. It was beautiful to see.
Zoey had kept her feelings about the attractiveness of her office mates well wrapped up. After the first moments in the office she didn’t allow herself to really take in their glossy outfits or perfect hair or any of their mannerisms that would have made Zoey’s skin itch. But seeing Mira like this— formerly cold, curt, teasing-as-a-teaching-device Mira? All of that reality came to the surface and then some. Mira wasn’t just hot. She was beautiful. The way she looked at Bobby— softly, impressed, proud, and loyal— made Zoey’s stomach churn.
Zoey didn’t want the hour to end. She could have watched them talk like that forever. But her dazed loving look in Mira’s direction was interrupted by a student standing between her eyes and Mira.
Oh, the leech.
“Hey teach,” Abby said. Zoey could feel Rumi’s nose crinkle at the disrespect. “You look good today.”
Mira and Bobby wrapped up in order to give Zoey the room. Abby watched Bobby leave, and the door click behind them.
“What’s up with the t*****?”
Zoey was thankful Bobby was well out of earshot when Abby said it. Zoey saw the flash of pink spin towards him but stop when Zoey held up her hand. This was her student. She was going to handle it.
“That’s Mira’s student and one of the most innovative new minds in the world of gender and sexuality studies,” Zoey said. “And the word you just used is not only inappropriate but a slur. I’m going to assume you know what a slur is.”
Abby sat up a little straighter in response to the low and serious voice Zoey was using. He did know.
“I just don’t get why anyone would do… that.”
Zoey had to try excruciatingly hard to ignore the heat radiating from Mira’s body across the room. She did know that both Rumi and Mira had stopped and were looking at her.
“You lift, right Abby?” Zoey asked.
Abby stretched his body up and smiled a little bit, letting his abs show beneath the bottom of his shirt. Zoey looked on purpose, which made Abby smile. Zoey could feel Rumi’s face pinch.
“Why do you lift?”
“Because the ladies love it,” he said, a new tone of voice on as if he were putting a move on Zoey.
Zoey leaned back, establishing more dominance.
“So if there weren’t ladies you wouldn’t lift?”
Abby blinked. Obviously he couldn’t fathom a life without ladies, but he took Zoey’s bait anyways.
“No, I still would.”
“Why? Because you love the endorphins? Because you need to lift heavy things in your future career as a gerontologist?”
“N-no… I”
“Why then, Abby?” Zoey was picking up steam. She leaned in and whispered, face now in Abby’s personal space. “Why look the way you do?”
“B-because I’m a man!”
Zoey smirked. Hook and line.
“Okay so you like lifting because looking the way you do makes you feel more like a man, right?”
Abby was still, like he was trying to figure out the trap. Then he nodded.
“I get it. Doing these,” Zoey, unsmiling, brandished her long nails with the designs on them. “Makes me feel good about my gender too.”
Abby made a small face at the word ‘gender’.
“That student, Liam,” Zoey said, careful to not give their actual name in case Zoey’s plan failed. “Has a broader understanding of gender than you do. Instead of big muscles equals man, Liam has picked and chosen the things that make them feel good, just like your muscles make you feel good.”
“But unlike you,” Zoey was cooking now, words moving nearly as fast as they’d been with her rapping demonstration weeks before. “Liam’s expression isn’t defined by their desire for sex as mandated by society.”
Zoey had to be careful not to use words that were too big.
“If society— ladies— decided tomorrow that muscles were ugly, would you still have them?”
Abby was frozen. He looked like Zoey had slapped him. He was having an existential crisis. Zoey wasn’t letting him off the hook.
“I’m going to guess, and I could be wrong, that Abby isn’t the name you were given when you were born?”
The tiniest nod.
“But you’d rather be called Abby than your birth name?”
Another nod, bigger. Abby’s eyes wide.
“Sounds to me like you aren’t so different than the student you just called a slur. Except,” Zoey said, a mean glint in her eye. “That student didn’t call you any awful thing, and they’re getting their PhD.”
Zoey let it all sink in. She half expected him to leave, or to crack a wise ass comment.
“I see. Okay,” Abby said, quietly but definitively. “I’m— I won’t use that word again.”
Zoey smiled, allowing the reality of the situation to set in. She still avoided her office mates eyes. She had a feeling Mira would have done a better job wording things and Rumi would have been more convincing, but Zoey was trying to allow herself the small victory.
“I need help with this reading, I don’t understand why…”
For the rest of the hour Zoey earnestly helped Abby, and Abby earnestly learned.
“Thank you, Professor.” Then he left.
Zoey let all the air out of her lungs when the door latched. Then she inhaled for strength and looked up.
Rumi looked Zoey up and down. Looked at Zoey like she was new, not the girl they’d been getting to know these last couple weeks. Like Zoey looked… impressive.
Finally Zoey looked to Mira. Mira’s face was red. She was standing up by the corner of her desk, no longer leaning like she usually did.
Mira moved fast for the door, then stopped to the side of Zoey’s desk. Mira didn’t look at Zoey, but Mira did reach over and squeeze Zoey’s hand for a few seconds. Then she left, letting the door bang on her way out.
Zoey looked to Rumi.
“You did good,” Rumi said. “She’s just not used to having people stand up for her students. It’s usually only her. And me, when I can, but most of my freshmen are too new and scared to say anything like that.”
Rumi gave Zoey a soft smile.
“You overwhelmed her, and she doesn’t do feelings well,” Rumi looked like she was going to say more but stopped. “She’ll be back. And you just gave me more time to finish grading.”
Rumi was right. Mira did return, and packed her bag and snapped her fingers at Rumi to stop working. Zoey was already packed.
“Mira, I— He was my student, I wanted to handle it,” Zoey said, as if Mira was mad at her. “You probably could have—“
Mira stopped her movement and looked at Zoey in the eyes for the first time in an hour. Then Mira stepped closer to her so she was looking down into Zoey’s eyes.
“What you did,” Mira started, voice a growl. “Was professionally impressive. It was personally impactful to Abby. And it was very hot to me. I could fucking kiss you for what you did. And no, I couldn’t have done it better.”
Zoey would have thought Mira was hitting on her if the interaction wasn’t so intimidating. It seemed more like Mira wanted to drive her point home in a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted.
Then Mira turned to Rumi and asked if she was ready to go, to which Rumi sing-songed a yes as if Mira threatening to kiss a colleague was just another item on Mira’s rap sheet of professionally inappropriate behaviors and she was used to it.
Zoey followed them out.
Notes:
How dare Abby say a mean thing about our Bobby!
They are all written and on a schedule, so you don't have to worry about me disappearing :)
Seriously, comment with your favorite line of the chapter!
If you want more, check out my other fics in the mean time. New chapters Wednesday and Sunday until it’s complete. Enjoy and thanks for reading!
Chapter 3: The Invitation
Summary:
Rumi and Mira decide to become friends with Zoey off campus.
Chapter Text
The next weeks changed for Zoey. She was finally getting the hang of her lessons and more students were popping by office hours. Abby came every day now, but was no longer a leech. He came right at the beginning of office hours and even said a “hello” to Rumi, Mira, and —if they were there— Bobby. Then he proceeded to become Zoey’s highest scoring student.
The biggest change was in how Mira treated Zoey. Mira started bringing her things in the same way she brought Rumi things. Coffee, and snacks. She would hold doors open for Zoey and guide her by a hand on her lower back away from obstacles when they were walking to their cars and Zoey was on a quick-talking roll about some topic. Everything was so subtle, like Mira had been doing it the whole time they’d known each other. But she hadn’t, and she was now.
Then there was the invitation.
“Hey,” Mira said. “We’re going to the Wicked Wolf tonight, want to come? It’s board game night and Rumi’s a sucker for them.”
Rumi mocked offense. “Why would anyone like to play a game that stimulates the mind and where you can conquer people with your strategic prowess?”
Mira rolled her eyes.
“C’mon, I need a drink and I hate nerd shit but I can’t let Rumi go alone. I did once and it wasn’t pretty. She came back with like 8 people’s numbers she didn’t want just because she can’t say no. Fucking pushover.” Mira laughed, making Rumi glare. “Before midterms hit us next week. Come with us.”
Zoey was pretty sure she’d jump off a cliff if Mira wanted her to, despite how much Zoey pushed that thought down.
“I love board games. Sounds fun.”
Rumi’s face lit up. “Really? What’s your favorite?”
“The Game of Life,” Zoey said.
Rumi’s face darkened. Then, in a last ditch effort she asked, “What version?”
Zoey considered for a moment. “I don’t know, whatever version was in my mom’s cabinet growing up?”
Mira laughed. A big, boisterous laugh.
“Oh, you got her so excited,” Mira cooed. “It’s okay babe, you’ll turn her into a monster like you yet.”
Rumi’s eyes flashed angry and then appreciative at Mira.
Wow, Zoey thought. The way Mira teased was artful. Calling Rumi babe was a new one.
For all the conversations they’d had in the free time between students, relationship status never came up. Zoey had her theories though, given what she knew about the both of them. Zoey imagined Rumi had a boyfriend, someone as charismatic as her. It was serious, headed towards marriage, but they both were too focused on their careers.
For Mira she imagined that Mira had a different person in her bed every night. Every time Zoey imagined it (which was more often than she felt comfortable with) Zoey imagined the people in Mira’s bed changing in size and shape and gender and expression. And in all situations, the sex was amazing.
Mira calling Rumi babe was downright evil, because it made Zoey imagine the two of them in bed, having agitated, frustrated, hot as fuck sex.
Zoey shook it from her mind during the walk to their cars.
The bar was big and dark, with a slight 20s/speakeasy theme. Rumi dashed upstairs immediately, and Zoey stayed back with Mira.
“Hey Eb,” Mira said to the bartender. “The usual, plus whatever Zoey wants.”
Zoey looked to protest but Mira’s look shot her down.
“Something with Mezcal please,” Zoey said, catching Mira’s smirk. Zoey agreed to the bartender’s suggestion and then took their drinks to a seat in the main room.
“Will you take Rumi’s drink to her? I’m nerded out tonight.”
“Oh, sure. Are you… going to play games?” Zoey asked.
Mira looked to her, no sign of any of her personas. No Dr. Dyke, no doting Professor, no teasing. “No, I really just want to read and sip my drink. But you should go play, I think it’d make Rumi’s night.”
Zoey smiled, nodded, and headed upstairs.
Rumi was at a table in the back, surrounded by three players and an open seat to her right. When Rumi saw her, Rumi waved her over to the seat Rumi had reserved for her.
“We’re playing Heat, a racing simulator game. In this game the goal is to…”
Zoey was impressed by the way Rumi was able to succinctly summarize all aspects of the game. She only opened the instruction booklet once to answer an overly specific question from one of their fellow players.
Zoey had never been to a board game group before, but had been into Pokemon tournaments when she was younger. She always hated how surrounded by boys she’d been in those spaces, and eventually that feeling is what made her leave the game. Looking around, Zoey realized it could have been a very similar situation here— majority cis men, playing board games. Zoey was shocked it wasn’t. The group was pretty diverse. Sure there were still cis-men, but there were cis-women and trans folks of all genders and expressions here too, and of course there was always the reality that some of the people Zoey thought were cis were actually trans people that passed for cis. Zoey didn’t feel under-represented as a femme here either, and realized that was in part thanks to Rumi.
Rumi must have been an organizer of the event. Rumi welcomed everyone that entered the room. She asked about items in people’s personal lives that she must have heard about before: how’s your cat, did you get your car window fixed.
She even dished smack talk back at the grumblier cis-men of the group, to their surprise. Zoey wasn’t surprised based on how she saw Rumi interact with Mira every day, but Zoey had to remember the way Rumi presented herself and how she was perceived. Rumi was still dressed in the turtle neck pant suit outfit, professional and feminine. Her movements shuffling cards and dealing out tokens and trinkets was graceful. Of course the men were surprised when she called them on their bullshit and competitively teased them right back.
This game was no Game of Life. It was complicated. The board was large, and everyone had a little colored race car. They had to manage speed and stress and decision making to get themselves around turns and to the finish line.
Zoey’d played a lot of games with her many cousins growing up. Without siblings of her own and being the youngest cousin, she often got picked on and almost never won games. That’s why she liked the Game of Life so much— there was enough luck involved that she could almost accidentally win against her cousins that were five to ten years older than her.
Even though she was an adult now and as old if not older than some of the people at the table, Zoey felt the prickle of inadequacy on the back of her neck. She wanted to win. Or at least, she didn’t want to look stupid and have people laugh like her cousins always did.
Come to find out, she didn’t have to worry about that at all. Before making a move, Rumi would narrate considerations to make so Zoey understood what her choices were. If Rumi missed something, another player at the table would speak up. They didn’t only do this for Zoey either. They did it for each other.
There was some sort of gamer’s honor code where a win wasn’t a win if you won because your opponents weren’t well enough informed. In this arena everyone was equally armed. The winner would be the most skilled when the playing field was even.
Zoey got second on her first play through of Heat. When the game ended, Zoey wanted to play again and wanted to make some different choices.
Rumi laughed. “I always say you have to play every game twice,” she said, a proud glow coming from her. “The first time is to learn and the second time is to dominate.”
They played Heat two more times. The second game Zoey did worse than the first, and the third game she won.
“Did you let me win just so I’d come back and play more games with you?” Zoey asked Rumi as they walked downstairs.
Rumi gasped and faked clutching pearls that Rumi wasn’t wearing. “Me? Let you win? Never!”
Then her voice normalized. “Seriously, never. Letting someone believe they won when they didn’t is like… breaking board game consent. If you’re going to play you’re going to win or lose and it’s going to be your fault either way.” Rumi said, “Unless you play with Paul. Paul loves to make someone lose in games where one player can fuck another player over. I don’t play with Paul.”
Zoey laughed, then realized that was the first time she’d heard Rumi curse before other than calling Mira an ass. This Rumi was fun, and relaxed, and in her element. She was still in the spotlight of attention but not expected to be a leader amongst followers but a leader amongst peers.
When they got downstairs Mira wasn’t in her seat. Zoey hadn’t considered Mira would leave, and realized now that she could have. It was late now, nearly midnight. Mira probably called it a night.
But Rumi was looking at the bar, where Mira sat, body turned so she could listen to whatever the person next to her was saying. Mira’s elbow was on the bar and her face was in her hand. And she looked— god, Zoey wished Mira looked at her like that. Mira was rapt on every one of this person’s words. Zoey couldn’t see this person, but could see that the person was turned so Mira’s foot sat on their barstool’s lower footrest and her knee was floating between the person’s legs. They weren’t touching at all, but it was intimate.
It took Zoey a minute to remember to breathe. Mira caught the wave of Rumi and the minute she and Zoey were in Mira’s view Mira’s face lit up. Zoey watched Mira excuse herself from the conversation at the bar and walk over without a moment's hesitation.
“How were the games?” Mira asked.
“Zoey’s a little speed demon,” Rumi said. “Gave me a run for my money.”
“Oh, did you play Heat? Fun.” Mira said. Maybe she did like games after all, Zoey thought.
Rumi turned to Zoey and hugged her. Rumi had never touched Zoey before, and Rumi’s hug was surprisingly good. It was warm, and Rumi’s body squeezed Zoey’s without any apprehension. Rumi broke the hug and held Zoey’s shoulders.
“Thank you for coming to play. I hope you had fun. You’re welcome back anytime, and you don’t have to always play games, you can be like Mira who plays every once in a while.”
Zoey smiled back at Rumi, her hands still on Rumi’s side from the hug.
“This was really fun, and I’m not just saying that because I won,” Zoey said with a wink.
Mira laughed. “Wait, you beat Rumi?! I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Rumi gave Mira a quick scowl before turning back to Zoey. “You can beat me anytime,” she said, and winked back.
Mira laughed harder as Zoey short-circuited. Rumi purposefully flirting with her to get back at Zoey for beating her was not on the night’s bingo sheet.
Notes:
I, like Rumi, love board games. I also love the Game of Life, don’t worry Zoey!
Chapters are scheduled to post once every Wednesday and Sunday until the full thing is out, so if you don't see them all then come back! They are all written and scheduled, so you don't have to worry about me disappearing :) Feel free to read my other fic if you’re bored and sad about waiting ;)
Seriously, comment with your favorite line of the chapter! Any predictions?
Chapter 4: Meet the Dean
Summary:
Zoey meets the Dean, Dr. Celine Kim, at a department-wide meeting.
Chapter Text
Everything was great until the Dean’s board meeting.
The Dean was hot, in the ways that both Rumi and Mira were— she was impressive, Professor hot. Charismatic like Rumi, holding court amongst the social sciences professors. Intimidating like Mira, shutting down extraneous conversation and any bickering about defining terms in an endlessly evolving field of study.
When the meeting began, no one spoke except for her. She hit item after item on the agenda and then opened for questions after each one. Sometimes there was a question, but most of the time no one dared to speak.
Zoey searched the room for Rumi and Mira, which didn’t prove too difficult given their hair colors. Rumi was sitting up front, as close to the Dean as she could get in the lecture hall. Mira was sitting as far away as possible, the only one standing in the back corner. Zoey wished she were sitting between them, her friends, instead of these random sociology and anthropology teachers that looked bored out of their minds. Neither Rumi or Mira looked bored. They looked involved.
“For the final item,” the Dean said. “Budget usage for this year. I understand that we have two proposals for excess budget usage— one from Doctor Cho and one from Doctor Hong.”
Mira stood straighter, taking her shoulder off the wall for the first time all meeting.
“I have reviewed both proposals and they are compelling. I will be assigning a liaison to do an assessment of the impact of both and then will make my decision.”
That sounded completely reasonable to Zoey. It didn’t sound reasonable to Mira obviously, because she spoke up.
“Ce— Dean Kim,” Mira began. “How will this liaison measure impact? What will the metric be for determining which the department will choose?”
Mira’s voice was firm yet professional. More professional than she’d ever heard Mira speak. She could tell that Mira didn’t want to give the Dean this respect, but knew not to bite the hand that feeds.
Rumi was looking at Mira with some sort of glare that Zoey couldn’t place. Anger? Annoyance?
“An acceptable question, Doctor Hong,” the Dean said, stifling a sigh. Mira obviously had a reputation for speaking up, as whispers fell throughout the lecture hall. “Of course we look at the financial impact of any decision on the sustainability of the university. We are a business and that business is educating students, so whatever allows us to continue doing that for as long as possible should win— excuse me, receive the bid.”
Mira nodded slowly, though her face gave away her displeasure at the answer.
Notes:
Hope you like it! This chapter was pretty short so maybe I’ll release another….
Let me know what you think!
Check out my other fics while you wait for the next chapters/just because you want to!
Thank you for reading, longer chapters in the future.
Chapter 5: The Budgetary Elephant in the Room
Summary:
The office mates address the tension after the Dean’s meeting. Mira reveals more about herself after a scary situation with a student.
Notes:
Very vague mentions of violence. NO ONE IS HURT in this chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next office hours were tense. It was midterms, so they were busy every hour with students, even allowing students from one hour to bleed over with students from the next. Mira and Bobby worked in the corner the whole time, whispering about something or another while Rumi and Zoey were busy going through study guides with their undergrads.
It was 7:30 before Mira and Zoey said goodbye to their last students of the night, Bobby and Abby. Abby’d spent his whole hour helping others with their study guides when Zoey’s hands were full. The whole office had decided to like Abby now, to Zoey’s delight.
They sat in silence for another fifteen minutes.
“Okay, we have to talk about this,” Zoey said, finally. “You two have competing proposals to the Dean?”
Mira and Rumi shared a glance. The tension in the room increased.
“Our department handles the most undeclared undergraduates. A lot of them declare for our department after taking an intro class,” Rumi says.
“You can take credit, you’re practically fake bragging right now,” whispered Mira.
Rumi ignored her. “We need more admissions counselors. If we did, we could get students declared earlier and more student money would go to our department.”
“Student money?!” Mira said. “At least pretend that your proposal is for the good of the students, fuck!”
Mira picked up a book and turned towards the wall like she was going to throw it.
Zoey nodded at Rumi.
“Should I even ask you what your proposal is, given how worked up you are?” Zoey asked.
Mira tightened her whole body, and Zoey did in preparation. Then Mira sighed, put the book down, and slowly turned to Zoey.
“My program is a draw for the whole school. I have the highest graduation rate in the country. It would be higher, but the number one reason my students drop is because of an ‘emergent lack of resources’.” Mira’s voice wavered a little bit in the end. Zoey looked for any sign that Mira was going to cry, but didn’t find any. “If we had an emergency fund, or emergency housing, or a food bank, clothes budget, anything for these kids…”
Some of Mira’s students were as old as Zoey was. Hell, some were older since the school prided itself on non-traditional students (students that started or returned to school years after high school). But with the way Mira talked about her students Mira could have a student aged 60 and still call them her kid.
“But my program’s small. And it’s queer, and Celine—“
“Stop,” Rumi warned.
Mira let out an aggravated groan towards the ground.
“I’m sick of having to convince this school that they should care! That they should take a bit of their 32 BILLION DOLLAR BUDGET and keep a couple kids in school during one of the most traumatic moments of their lives. Getting kicked out of your family ruins a part of you. Grieving someone still alive—“
Mira’s voice did crack now. Rumi stood up and walked over, not touching Mira but just… there.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mira said, before walking out the door.
Zoey looked to Rumi, who looked perplexed.
“She needs a break from the attention for a minute. She’ll finish her thoughts soon,” Rumi says, purposefully not answering any of the questions Zoey had. Zoey and Rumi packed up and followed, a couple steps behind.
When they left they didn’t have to go far to find Mira. Mira was standing up against the wall right outside the office.
“Mir, you—“ Rumi started.
Mira shh’ed her. They all froze and looked where Mira was looking.
Abby was talking to Bobby. Mira’s chest was heaving, like the anger from before was rising to the level of her eyeballs. It was lucky that Zoey and Rumi caught her while she was still frozen, still watching them.
Zoey didn’t think before she grabbed Mira’s hand. She didn’t pull or squeeze, just held. It was Mira that squeezed back.
Rumi, Zoey, and Mira watched Abby and Bobby talking. Abby was considerably taller than Bobby, the kind of bigger that made Zoey’s spine tingle in fear. How had they let Bobby walk by themself for so long? Zoey felt Mira’s hand shake. She must have been thinking the same thing.
Abby put one huge hand on Bobby’s shoulder. Mira crumpled to the floor and Rumi sped off in the students’ direction, still out of sight. Zoey didn’t know what to do.
Then they all froze.
Abby bent down and kissed Bobby.
It was small, and quick. But Bobby giggled in response and then took Abby’s hand, interlocking their fingers. Then they walked away, too much in their own world to notice what had transpired with their professors.
Mira hadn’t seen. She was still crying in a ball on the ground. Rumi rushed back and grabbed Mira’s face. Zoey sat behind her and squeezed Mira with all of her strength because that’s what Zoey liked when she had a panic attack.
“Mir, Mir, they’re okay. Bobby’s fine. Bobby’s actually more than fine, they kissed. Did you hear me? Muscle-y idiot Abby kissed beautiful brilliant tiny Bobby.”
Zoey let Rumi’s comment about Abby being an idiot go. She’d bring it up later when Mira was okay.
“It didn’t happen to him. What happened to you didn’t happen to him.”
Zoey looked to Rumi, but Rumi showed no signs that Zoey even existed right now. Her whole focus was on the person she was fighting with to get the dean’s money.
Mira’s breathing became more even after a long time of Rumi offering affirmations and reassurances. Rumi was so soft this way, looking at Mira with concern and care. Something horrible had happened to Mira, Zoey knew now. That’s why Mira never let her walk alone. Despite Mira being tall, she was still lithe and a femme woman. And her students were the highest demographic to experience violence on campus, and that metric was only based on what was reported. Suddenly Zoey knew Mira a lot better.
A couple minutes later they were all sitting on the cement outside their office in a circle. Mira looked tired, but more okay than she’d been all day.
Mira pulled out her phone, sent a text. Only when she got a text back did she let herself fully release the rest of the tension in her shoulders.
“Bobby says they got home safe.”
Zoey wondered how Rumi would normally feel about a student having Mira’s personal cell phone number. But then again, for things like this it made sense that Rumi wouldn’t care at all. Rumi would probably encourage it, if it helped keep students safe.
Mira looked at Zoey.
“I was attacked during my first year. Beat to shit, robbed. They cracked a couple of my ribs, tore an earring, stole my laptop.” Mira turned so Zoey could see the line in the cartilage of her left ear. “They didn’t… well you know. I got lucky in that sense.”
She said all of these things matter-of-fact. A thing of the past.
“Three of my students—“
Mira cried. For the first time in front of Zoey, Mira cried. Not at her frustration at the dean, not at her anger at Rumi, not at her fear of Bobby being hurt. She cried at the reality of whatever had already happened to three of her students in the seven years of teaching. All under her watch.
“They’re okay now,” Rumi said, grabbing Mira’s hand. “They’re living great lives. We even went to one of their baby’s first birthdays last month. Wasn’t that baby cute, Mir?”
“Yeeeaaaahhh,” Mira said, smiling pathetically through a broken sob. How was it that Zoey found this woman so breath-taking whilst she ugly cried and smiled at the mere thought of a baby?
Mira wiped her eyes and the rest of her face.
“I’m working on letting go of my sense of responsibility with my therapist. But just now if I’m honest,” Mira said, daring to look directly at Zoey. “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to look at you if Abby had done anything to Bobby.”
Zoey nodded. She wouldn’t have been able to look at Mira either. And that would have broken her heart.
Zoey and Rumi stood and pulled Mira to her feet.
“Let’s all go home. We can talk more another time,” said Rumi.
Zoey nodded.
“So tell me more about this kiss. I want to know every detail.”
Zoey smiled as she sped through every single thing she could remember as they all walked towards the parking lot.
Notes:
I couldn’t give you just one tiny chapter and leave you out to dry for another couple days! Enjoy and let me know what you think.
Updates until it’s done on Sundays and Wednesdays.
Comments and thoughts are appreciated, especially about parts that you liked/felt!
Chapter 6: The Immovable Object
Summary:
Zoey is stuck in an impossible situation.
Chapter Text
The Dean’s office was minimalist and stark, without an iota of warmth in the entire room.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Zoey said.
“You will be our liaison for the budget decision,” the Dean continued. “Your undergraduate degree is in accounting so I know you understand budgeting decisions, and you know both parties and their students.”
“Dean Kim, I appreciate the opportunity but I feel like it would be a conflict of interest to be the deciding factor between my peers,” Zoey said. “Plus it could make our office a hostile work environment.”
“If that happens let me know and I will get you a new office. Besides,” Dean Kim continued. “As Professor Cho’s aunt I am far more of a conflict of interest.”
Zoey’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped before she realized her error in etiquette.
Dean Kim caught her expression. “They didn’t tell you? I am surprised. I figured that would be brought up often in the office,” she said.
Did the dean look… disappointed?
“You don’t share any students with them and your classes aren’t at the time of their classes. You’re the obvious choice.” She continued. “Your task is to analyze their theories about the usage of the budget and to provide me your thoughts on how I should proceed.”
Zoey looked at the Dean and saw no way of getting out of this situation.
Notes:
I hope you liked it! Let me know your predictions! The whole fic is already written so if you’re wrong or you’re right the plot’s staying the same.
Chapter 7: The Unstoble Forces
Summary:
There’s nothing the girl’s can’t handle when they put their minds together.
Chapter Text
Zoey paced back and forth in the office. She was almost never there before Rumi.
Rumi and Mira entered a moment later, laughing at something. Zoey was glad they were in good spirits for this.
Rumi and Mira got to their desks, looking at Zoey’s full-bodied anxiety.
“What’s up, Zo?” Mira asked.
“Are we friends?” Zoey asked.
Mira looked to Rumi and back in a bit of shock. “I’d hope so. Are we friends?” She asked to Zoey.
“Would you two consider each other friends?” Zoey continued, ignoring Mira’s questions.
Rumi looked to Mira this time.
“We’re… sometimes friends, yes. Sometimes colleagues. Sometimes—“ Rumi started.
“I want to know if we’ll still be friends after what I tell you,” Zoey said. “No matter what. I don’t have… people. Here. You two were it. Are it.”
Rumi and Mira looked at each other and then walked forward, taking Zoey’s hands in theirs.
“We will. We think we know what you’re going to say,” Mira said.
“The Dean assigned me to be the liaison for the budget.”
Both of Zoey’s hands were dropped. Rumi looked to Mira, hand over her mouth.
In a surging yell Mira pushed all of her books off the desk and onto the floor.
“That BITCH,” Mira said.
“Mir,” Rumi said, hands up now.
“She did this on purpose, Ru. You know she did.”
“I’ll talk to her— I’ll—“
“No!” Zoey shouted, breaking the spell. “She told me not to tell you. I chose to anyway.”
Mira and Rumi looked to Zoey.
“Why?” Rumi asked, with a look of wonder.
“I… didn’t want to keep anything from you. Either of you. Both of you.”
Mira heard Zoey’s words. It felt like an eternity, but eventually she slowly smiled. Then she went over and started picking up her desk, book by book.
Rumi sighed.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was your aunt?” Zoey asked.
“She wouldn’t have wanted us to. Not many of the faculty know. Mira wanted me to tell you,” Rumi said. “Now I see I should have.”
Mira’s books were back on her desk, this time in neater piles than the physics-defying mess it was earlier.
“You mean a lot to us, Zo,” Mira said. “So do our jobs. So do our families. Well, Rumi’s at least. All those things can coexist.”
Zoey exhaled.
“Okay, so what do we do?” Asked Zoey. “How do we keep this from coming between us?”
Mira looked to Rumi for this one.
“Mira and I will promise not to do anything against the rules we set.” Rumi said, and Mira nods in agreement. “It’s like board game rules honor code. I say you visit one of my classes and one of Mira’s. You can ask us questions during office hours. When do you need to turn the recommendation in by?”
Zoey nodded, as if to say she’d processed the plan. “Finals.”
“Okay,” Mira said. “I think we also need to spend more time together, the three of us. Keep having fun that isn’t about work. Keep our connection strong.”
Zoey smiled at the suggestion.
Notes:
Thanks for reading! Comments and thoughts are super welcome!
Also check me out on tumblr, I’m also goodwillhuntrx.
Chapter 8: At the gay bar
Summary:
Zoey and Mira spend some time in the bar while Rumi plays games upstairs.
Notes:
This chapter contains spoilers for the book My Best Friend’s Honeymoon by Meryl Wilsner! Fun book, go read.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next time they went to the Wicked Wolf, Zoey decided to stay down with Mira. Rumi was going to play a six hour conquest game called Scythe and the more Rumi talked about it the more Zoey realized she wasn’t ready for that yet. So instead she sat at the bar while Mira pulled out a book.
Zoey always imagined that the books Mira was reading were some overly intellectual tome that would take Zoey multiple minutes per sentence to decipher. No, it was a book called My Best Friend’s Honeymoon by Meryl Wilsner.
“Bold choice,” Zoey said, sipping on her Cadillac margarita. “Smut in public.”
Mira lifted an eyebrow in delighted surprise. Then she leaned over to Zoey until she was whispering in her ear. Zoey wondered if Mira could hear her racing pulse from there.
“This, my dear, is a furry bar,” Mira said. “It’s hardly public.”
Zoey blanched at that, then blushed. The anthropomorphic wolf portrait above the bar was indeed wearing a maid’s outfit.
“Have you read it?” Mira asked, playing off her amusement at Zoey’s realization.
“I did. I’ve read all of Meryl Wilsner’s stuff,” Zoey said. “How’re you liking this one?”
“Oh I think this is my third read-through,” Mira said, with pretend nonchalance.
“I like that she finally gave us a non-binary lead. And a they/she at that,” Zoey said. “I also was surprised when—“
“The ass eating started?” Mira asked, watching Zoey’s face when she said it. Zoey held her ground, to Mira’s surprise.
“I was going to say when they decided to adopt the dog, but yes I enjoyed the ass eating surprise too,” Zoey said.
“Zoey likes ass eating, noted,” Mira said, turning back to her book.
“Hey I’m not the one who’s read the book three times,” Zoey said with a laugh.
Mira laughed too, in agreement. Then she took a dollar bill out of her wallet and slipped it into the book as a book mark and put her book away.
They talked about everything.
Mira shared about her estrangement to her family. How they looked down at her queerness and her career and so she left them.
Zoey shared about her reason for leaving Seoul. Her fiancé started transitioning and found out he wasn’t interested in women anymore. They were still good friends but she needed space to grow somewhere new.
Mira talked about her favorite people she’d met at the bar. People she’d taken home or got to know or learned restaurant recommendations from.
Zoey shared that she would have been interested in taking someone home, since it’s been a while since that happened.
Mira got quiet.
“Did I lose you?” Zoey asked.
“Never,” Mira said, snapping her head back to look at Zoey.
It was only then that she noticed how Mira was sitting. Facing her, foot on Zoey’s footrest, knee between Zoey’s legs. All of Mira’s attention on her.
Or it was. Now it was scanning the bar.
“Do you trust me?” Mira asked.
“Yes,” Zoey said. She meant it. The things she felt for this woman. Had felt for this woman for months.
Mira made eye contact with someone just over Zoey’s right shoulder and gave a quick flick of her head up. Then Mira got up off of her seat and leaned back into Zoey’s ear.
“Have fun,” Mira said, and then kissed Zoey’s cheek.
Zoey’s heart melted and froze as she watched Mira walk towards the stairs and then out of sight.
“Hi,” Someone said, appearing in front of Zoey. “I’m Zane. Can I buy you a drink?”
Notes:
Ooooo how are we feeling about Zane?
Chapter 9: Three strikes
Summary:
Zoey catches Rumi’s class. The three decide to go bowling.
Chapter Text
Sex with Zane was great. Zoey didn’t know why she was surprised. Mira had recommended him, after all. He was able to show a clean STI test directly from his MyChart app. He was highly skilled with his fingers, mouth, and the strap. He was clean and tasted good.
And Zoey didn’t feel a single feeling.
Getting fucked was helpful though, she felt a little more settled in her body, like she was farther from jumping Mira’s bones in the office.
Still, after so much Mira direct attention she decided to take the day to check out Rumi’s classes.
Since Zoey hadn’t gone to the school for undergrad and had gone to a tiny private school, she was shocked to find out just how big the biggest lecture hall was. The room was probably half a football field wide, and when she walked in Rumi seemed pretty small on stage comparatively.
Her first observation was that most of the freshmen were sitting up front and center to the classroom. Most of Zoey’s students sat in the fringes of her classrooms, so seeing so many students so close to the leader of the material was fascinating. She even wondered if the couple people on the far outside of the class were auditing the class like she was or had to leave early and didn’t want to be disruptive.
“Where can Miles find the answer he’s looking for, class?”
“ON THE SYLLABUS,” the class chanted in sing-song.
“That’s right,” Rumi said, passing a sneaky wink to Zoey when Rumi noticed her.
“Okay, let’s talk about Freud. What do we know about Freud?” Rumi said, before calling on people in rapid succession.
“Oedipus complex!”
“A cigar is just a cigar!”
“His work was largely defunct!”
“Well done, all good things to know,” Rumi said, clicking the clicker in her hand so the slide now showed a picture of Magritte’s panting with the pipe on it.
Rumi’s class was fun. She had the class laughing, thinking, and talking. Rumi had them do partner sharing and mini quizzes with clickers. After class she had a good fourth of the class lingering hoping to absorb some of her attention.
Zoey knew professors like this. She’d had one. The whole reason she became a gerontologist was because of an intro class she took when she was undecided. The teacher was kind, smart, and encouraging. Just like Rumi.
He wasn’t as beautiful as Rumi though. Rumi lit up in front of her students like they were power cells to her generator. Zoey could watch her smile and hold her students’ gaze and laugh that bright laugh all day. And today she got to.
Zoey pretended to write notes, which was silly. Zoey knew Rumi and Mira so well. This class was exactly as Zoey would have imagined it.
When her last class was over, Rumi came over and sat beside Zoey with an exhausted huff. She laid her head against Zoey’s shoulder.
“So, what did you think?” Rumi said.
“Your students love you,” Zoey said.
“They do now,” Rumi said with a laugh. “Just wait until finals.”
“Some kids in here are so in love with you that you could fail them and they’d still love you,” Zoey said.
“Yeah, I know,” Rumi said with a sigh. “It used to be a curse, being everyone’s type. I’m glad I can use it for good.”
Rumi said it like she was joking but Zoey could tell she meant it too. She represented the department very well.
“It must be tough,” Zoey said. “Having her as an aunt.”
“It is,” Rumi hummed. “It’s complicated because a lot of the things I’ve achieved I’ve achieved because I was pushed by her. So I’m thankful on one hand…”
“Resentful on the other?” Zoey asked.
Rumi nodded. “When I met Mira I fully believed that without Celine I wouldn’t have ever amounted to anything. Mira showed me how wrong that was.”
Zoey nodded and leaned her head on Rumi’s.
“Do you want to go out? I’m thinking bowling at Parking Lanes,” Rumi said.
“Bowling?” Zoey asked.
“A wise person told me it’s good to have things we like that we aren’t good at.” Rumi mused.
“Let me guess… Mira?” Zoey asked.
“No, but close,” Rumi laughed. “My therapist.”
Zoey smiled. “Sure, but I want to change. Meet there at… 8?”
Rumi smiled back. “Sounds good.”
————-
Zoey was wearing jeans and a three wolf t-shirt, something appropriately silly for a bowling alley. Her dad was a big bowler so Zoey had fished out her ball and shoes.
Mira arrived first, sauntering up in sage green chinos and a crisp white v-neck tee. She pulled Zoey in for a quick hug.
“I heard Zane enjoyed himself,” Mira said devilishly.
“Oh jeez, how much detail—“
“None! None. Just that you were beautiful and kind, both of which were things I already knew.”
The way Mira looked at Zoey made her breath catch.
“Mir, we should—“
“There she is!” Mira said over Zoey’s shoulder.
Zoey turned and her mouth dropped.
It was Rumi. At least Zoey thought it was. She was in black combat boots, boot cut jeans, and a black cropped tank. She was holding a thick leather jacket and motorcycle helmet in one hand. None of those things were why Zoey couldn’t believe her eyes.
It was the tattoos. All across every inch of exposed skin were gorgeous rainbow watercolor tattoos in ornate decorations. Some were flowers, some were traditional Korean designs, some were patterns. From her collarbone to where her crop top was showing more skin to *beyond*. Wow, how far did they go?
Mira was laughing at Zoey.
“I love getting to watch people find out.”
Only then did Zoey realize her mouth was fully open.
Was Rumi actually walking in slow motion? Because she still hadn’t reached Mira and Zoey.
“They’re hot right?” Mira asked, putting her chin on Zoey’s shoulder.
“Yeah wow,” Zoey said, allowing her to continue ogling until Rumi arrived.
“Hey guys,” Rumi said, as if it were any other Tuesday.
“Rumi,” Zoey could only muster a whisper. “What the fuck dude.”
“I figured I’d let you really get to know me,” Rumi laughed.
“I want to get to know you *more*” Zoey said, not worrying about openly flirting with her friend.
“How? Why? When?” Zoey asked. Then, “Celine?”
Mira and Rumi both laughed, and lead Zoey’s in-shock body to the counter so they could get shoes.
Rumi smiled big and proud like a kid with their artwork on the fridge.
“‘How’ is many hours and lots of dollars. Most of it’s all done by this same artist I love. She did my dad’s too.” Zoey’s ears perked up at the mention of Rumi’s father. She’d never talked about her parents before.
“My dad was in prison my whole life and I never met him but I had his pictures and thought his tattoos were the best,” Rumi continued. “I would call them his patterns.”
Mira asked the clerk for shoes in Rumi’s and Mira’s sizes and then turned to Zoey. “I have my own,” she said, still tracing Rumi’s patterns with her eyes.
“‘Why’ is for my dad, to honor him after he died and also because I think they’re neat,” Rumi smiled down at her skin.
“Beautiful,” Zoey whispered.
“‘When’ was the year I finished grad school. I didn’t have any money at the time but my expenses were covered by Celine so I worked as a tech at a recording studio for a while to pay for each piece as it was being done.”
Then Rumi sighed. “Celine wasn’t happy to say the least. She pulled financial support from me for a while so I had to take a break from getting more until I was set up at the school,” Rumi said, wincing at the pain of the past. “Celine hired me under the condition that I never showed my tattoos to students.”
“That’s why there’s that rule in the code of conduct. There wasn’t before Rumi started.” Mira added, venom in her voice.
“But my tattoos were finished and I loved my students and always wanted to teach where I got my undergrad and graduate degrees.” They were at the lane now, and Zoey put on her shoes and got out her ball. She completely ignored the looks from Mira.
“I’d grown up at the school since Celine took care of me after my parents died,” Rumi said. “We’re aren’t even actually related, she was my mom’s best friend. They were colleagues, like we are.”
Zoey was finally starting to get her faculties back. Then she had a thought that would let her lose them again. She stood.
“Can I touch them?” Zoey asked.
Rumi’s smile got bigger. Was she worried Zoey would reject her when Zoey saw them earlier?
“Yeah, sure,” Rumi said, her eyes flicking to Mira.
Zoey got closer to Rumi and traced her fingertips down Rumi’s bare arm, from her shoulder all the way to her wrist. Zoey was in a trance until she felt Rumi shiver.
“Oh, sorry did I—“
“No, no it feels good. Just gave me the shivers for a second.”
Zoey stepped back, and Rumi looked a little… sad about it?
Zoey blushed and turned to hide her face by suddenly being really interested in the bowling balls.
“Oooookay, well, how do y’all usually do this?”
“Uh, we usually get the gutter bumpers,” Mira admits. “But I was initially too intimidated by your own personal ball and shoes and got embarrassed to ask.”
Zoey laughed. “What? No, we should definitely get them put in. I haven’t bowled in like a century.”
Zoey watched Mira look to Rumi with skepticism.
Bowling with Mira and Rumi was fun. It was light hearted. Mira was an awful bowler, just uncoordinated and hilarious. Rumi, despite telling Zoey this was the activity she loved but was bad at, never hit the bumpers once. Zoey laughed to herself because of course Rumi’s definition of being ‘bad’ at something was just not being professional level. She had three doctorates.
“How did you meet?” Zoey asked, when Mira came back from another three-pin-down run.
“Us?” Rumi said, laughing. They looked at each other like they were deciding something.
“Okay we usually don’t tell the real story,” Mira started.
“Yeah, we usually say that we met working here together,” Rumi said. “Not the bowling alley, I mean the school.”
“But actually I met Rumi in the library during one of my finals,” Mira smiled at the thought.
“At your final— the improv final?” Zoey asked, piecing the story together.
Rumi laughed loud, grabbing her sides.
“I usually leave that part out! I forgot you knew the library story!” Mira said, in horror.
“My professor thought that an undergraduate improv class would help me be more flexible in my teaching,” Mira added as context. “I fucking hated that class but they were right.”
“Oh god, and Mira was so annoying,” Rumi added. She had stopped laughing in order to feel her frustration from those many years ago. “I kept trying to tell the professor that there was a mistake and Mira kept ‘yes and’ing me so I sounded like it was all a bit.”
Mira was laughing now, “Yeah that was hilarious. It was the first time I saw her get so cute and steamed.” Mira sighed. “And it was the only way I somehow got an A on that final.”
It was Zoey’s turn to laugh. They were both so ridiculous.
And she loved them.
Zoey bowled a strike after that thought, then two more.
She was glad to see them both impressed.
When their hour was up, Rumi was pretending to be fine with her score. And Mira was verbalizing how impressive Zoey was as a bowler.
“My dad and I didn’t really know what to do together,” she said. “He wasn’t a very involved dad before the divorce, and now he had me alone for whole summers,” Zoey explained. “We ended up just working on his Korean and bowling.”
“So you became a really good bowler,” Mira said. “And your dad…?”
“His Korean got better,” Zoey said in Korean.
They laughed.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!