Ramsay pushed the door to her flat shut behind her, sighing with relief. It had been a long, long day: it was nearly midnight now, and she had just managed to wrap up a difficult, lengthy case at the office... and to the satisfaction of all parties involved—save, perhaps, for the men and women now staring down the wand tip of a three-decade stint in Azkaban.

She spied Kira lounging on the centrally-placed couch in the living room, and—after pulling her coat off and hanging it by the door—hurried over to her slight friend, reaching down and scooping her up off the couch into a great big hug. She lifted Kira's feet off the floor and spun her around a few times, squealing quietly into her neck.

Ramsay set Kira back on her feet and then planted a kiss on her cheek, beaming.

"I closed a big case today—a really well, too. It was such a long day, but so worth it."

Kira looked up from the document she was editing as the door opened, glad to see Ramsay finally returning - and in one piece, even! She offered her friend a smile, which turned into a squeak as she was literally swept off her feet and into a spinning hug. She laughed, arms wrapping around Ramsay's neck, resting a hand on her shoulder for balance when she was finally put down.

She blushed softly as Ramsay kissed her cheek, but returned the gesture, smiling like it was nothing. Just a kiss on the cheek between friends.

Because that's what they were, right? Friends? Kira thought so, but after a late-night encounter a few weeks ago she was left confused about her feelings for the Auror. She loved her as much as she had since she was two, that was certain -- but friends don't think about friends the way Kira had been thinking about Ramsay the last few weeks. Friends don't dwell on memories of hearing friends have sex, or of post-coital visitations sans most clothes. Friends definitely didn't like thinking about friends like that.

Shaking her head minutely to clear her focus, Kira smiled back at Ramsay. "Congratulations! That's wonderful. Hey, since you've had such a tiring day," - not long, the day was as many hours as any other day - "why don't I make dinner? We've got ingredients for a casserole, I think, and I know we've got firewhiskey - and you deserve a drink."

As she spoke, she crossed to the kitchenette, pulling the necessary ingredients from the fridge and enchanting the appropriate utensils to do their jobs. She leaned against the counter, cheek in one hand and bottle of firewhiskey in the other, and said, "So tell me about this big case of yours."

As Kira crossed the gap between the living room and the kitchenette—but before she could reach the kitchenette properly—Ramsay scooped her up into another hug from behind, planting a kiss against the back of her ear and giggling.

"You're the sweetest, Kira," she fawned, before taking a seat at the central counter in one of the stools on the side opposite the appliances.

"Well," Ramsay began as Kira asked her to regale her of the case she had just cracked and then closed, "it started with some shady arse smuggling a load of cornish pixes into the city, and..."

It took a solid half an hour to tell the tale, beginning to end. During that time the girls had shared a good quarter of the bottle of firewhisky, two glasses for Ramsay, one for Kira, and tipsiness was on the rise—not to mention the food was just about done!

"So, yes, it was a tad exhilarating... but I'm glad it's over."

Kira shivered at the kiss behind her ear, but kept moving. "Cornish pixies? I can already tell this is a horror story," she interjected.

The next half hour was spent pouring drinks and listening to Ramsay's story, nodding at all the right times and adding her own concisely-worded comments every now and then - though as the drinking continued, her comments got more frequent and less precise in their wording. A few times she had even resorted to gesturing vaguely to get her point across, a behavior she rarely, if ever, engaged in while entirely sober.

Not that she was drunk, or anything. Just a bit tipsy, and the firewhiskey hit her a little harder than it did Ramsay due to her size and infrequent contact with alcohol.

"A tad exhilarating?" Kira repeated, attempting to raise an eyebrow (a trick she had never quite mastered), then added, "I wonder what would be really exhilarating, then."

And with a ding, the food was ready. She waved her wand, moving it onto two plates, then manually picked up and carried the plates back to the counter. "Dinner is served."

Ramsay giggled, shaking her head with a slight flush of her cheeks.

"You'll have to tell me," she suggested—just as the food was ready! Yay!

"Oh, this looks wonderful," Ramsay complimented, beaming at her roommate. "Thank you so much, sweetie."

With that, the older woman dug in, clearing her plate in record time—she was a fast eater as a rule of thumb, given the difficulty of catching an entire meal when she was on the clock, but tonight she was starved, and she practically inhaled Kira's delicious casserole.

When Ramsay pushed the plate back she grinned at Kira, standing up and planting another kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks for the food, honey. You're easily my favorite person."

She adjourned to the couch, sprawling out on one end of it with a content expression on her face.

"Come in here when you're done! We'll chat—and bring the firewhiskey! We never get sloshed together."