#*magic hands*

“Kirk.”

There was no answer.

“Kirk.” Hernan tried again, and this time Kirk answered with a soft click of heels.

His red gaze glared at the ground for his features were just as bright as those eyes. His hands bunched at the bottom of the skirt, vainly tugging it down. But the more he pulled the front, the more the back hiked up revealing layers of ruffles and the tops of white stockings.

Hernan wanted to cry. He was so beautiful.

“H-Hernan?”

“I’m not crying, I swear.” Hernan sniffed.

“You wanted this!”

“I did – I do. I really do.”

Kirk’s hands knotted in the skirt, still feeling cool air brush against the small length of his exposed thighs. He wanted to cross his legs, but there was Hernan circling him like a shark.

He nearly jumped at the feeling of warm hands coming to encircle his waist and pull him closer.

“This was not part of the deal.”

“But you’re so lovely.”

“Hernan…”

Hernan came to tug at the big white bow of Kirk’s apron.

“Hernan!”

Kirk snapped his fingers in his face. Hernan blinked.

“Wh-what?”

“Hernan, have you made up your mind yet?”

“Maid.. Maid… Made!”

Kirk scoffed, and crossed his arms over a normal shirt. He was not at all in a cute little maid outfit. Hernan was sadly disappointed, but perhaps his imagination could become reality.

Hernan nodded. “Yes, I know what I want.”

“Good, now what’s your bet?”

“I bet it’s a case in the Middle East.” Hernan stated confidently.

“I bet it’s to reprimand you for the ship you sank.”

Hernan scoffed. “No one was in it.”

“It was government property, thus government funds, and held the latest weapon billions went into making.”

“It was not bill—”

“Hernan!”

“Your loss.” Kirk smirked at the sound of Waller’s voice around the corner. “You’ve got laundry duty for a week.”