Me, strays, and some old dude (Fukuzawa x adoptive daughter reader)

Untitled Part 64

"I'm back." I closed the front door behind me and slipped off my flats. I entered the living room. Mr. Fukuzawa sat on a pillow on the floor going through papers on the coffee table and Ranpo was lying across the couch behind him watching tv.

"Hey," I dropped the bag on the coffee table, "I brought you guys something." Mr. Fukuzawa looked up from his papers and grabbed the bag.

"What did you get?" He asked.

"I got you guys some muffins," I said.

Mr. Fukuzawa handed Ranpo the chocolate muffin, "This one is yours."

"Why the hell do you look like you're going to have tea with the queen of England?" Ranpo asked.

"I was at church!" I furrowed my brows and placed my hands on my hips.

"Imagine getting up early on a Sunday."

"Imagine constantly sitting on your ass."

"Move you're blocking the tv!" Ranpo whined.

"Whatever, I'm going to change." I walked out in cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt. I lay opposite of Ranpo on the couch. I shoved my feet behind his back under the blanket. "What are you watching?"

"Uh, Moriarty the .... something I forgot. It's like Sherlock Holmes and stuff." Ranpo said with his mouthful of chocolate muffin.

I hummed, "What are you doing?" I asked Mr. Fukuzawa.

"Just looking over our expenses and government funding. Kenji spoke with me about wanting to expand his garden on the roof and I've put some money aside for the expansion."

"That's nice of you. I bet it would really make his day to have a new garden."

"Well, how can I say no then," I observed Mr. Fukuzawa's long hair. It wasn't very long maybe just longer than shoulder length. I got up from my seat and ran my fingers through his hair. "what are you doing?" He asked.

"Can I braid your hair please?" I asked.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because I want to, pleaaaaaaaseeeee!" I begged.

He sighed, "Fine."

"Yay! Hold on let me grab my brush," I grabbed my brush and a hair tie. I dragged the brush through his hair as I detangled any possible knots. I soon began separating and twisting hair. I watched the show Ranpo was watching as I worked.

"So the blue-haired guy is Sherlock Holmes?" I asked.

"Yeah," Ranpo responded.

"So, he's the main guy?" I asked.

"No, Moriarty is."

"He's the blonde guy."

"Yeah, William Moriarty."

"I thought the blonde guy with glasses was Moriarty."

"He is, they are brothers. The glasses guy is Louise Moriarty."

"Oooooh." I finished off Fukuzawas hair and tied the braid off.

"Ranpo, can I do your hair." He grumbled and buried his face in a couch pillow.

"Ranpo, please I'm not gonna braid it. I'm just gonna style it. You can keep watching your show while I do it."

"UGH...."

Time skip...

I sprayed his hair with water and brushed it to the side and split it. I pushed Ranpos's bangs back and brushed them to the side. (Basically same hairstyle as the gambling mayoi card.) "I think your hair looks good like this." I said.

"Its ok, too much effort though." He complained.

"I literally just parted your hair differently and moved your bangs. I can't exactly call it a big change." I said as I walked around to the front of the couch. Instead of trying to share the couch with Ranpo, I decided to lay down on the floor by Mr. Fukuzawa. I rested my head on his lap and body laid across the carpet floor. As I relaxed my body I felt a pop from my lower back as it cracked. I sighed in relaxation, it was a nice contrast compared to the formal morning of a church setting. I let my eyes fall shut as I dozed off. I soon felt callused fingers run through my hair and massage my scalp.

It was nice. It wasn't much but it was nice.

It was more comforting then the extravagant birthday parties mother would throw as a show of status and wealth to family.

It was more personal than the people from Papas Church. The people there were friendly, some may say too friendly. They always felt kind but distant. As if I wasn't seen as person but as an object of affection. They wouldn't push boundaries or invade space, they were just too compliant. The was no wrong if it came from me or Papa. I was just seen as confused. They were affectionate but far from personable.

It was more welcoming then watching her Mother or Brother with their new families. It felt like she wasn't a side attraction or third wheel. She felt apart of the show. It didn't matter if she wasn't the main lead, she was just happy to be a part of the ensemble. It was getting tiring constantly running things from behind the curtain. Whether it be holding a marriage together or helping take care of children that hers or her responsibilities. Now it was her turn on stage. Even if it was just apart of the ensemble.

It may not be considered outstanding.

She may not be considered outstanding. But she didn't care.

This average sized apartment, on a simple Sunday afternoon, doing nothing but dozing about as the man on the couch watched tv. The man she's laying on sorted through bills.

All of it was simple.

Maybe that's what was so great about it. She had no where to be. No kid to cook for and clean up after, no mother to comfort about her struggling marriage, no brother to work her to the bone, and Church go-ers to gawk at her.

There was no urgency. All that was on her mind was the faint background noise of the tv and paper sounds. The only feeling was the slight shift of the body under her and the fingers combing through her hair.

It was so much easier to just things go when things were simple like this.