A/N: Sailor Moon is a classic; I have loved it since I was little. I know Serena's little crybaby, but Darien loves her anyway. Don't hate, appreciate. And R&R!

Darien's Child-Bride

Sometimes Darien did get sick of Serena's childishness. God, he just wanted to tie her up and throw her in a closet for a few hours—especially when she got whiny.

"Darien!" she would shriek, her eyes big and blue and her mouth round and wide. "Darien, why don't you wanna go out today?" And then she'd jump to conclusions—"Am I—am I, annoying?" And her eyes would tear up instantly, so watery, he'd swear she could outcry a rainforest.

She loved to shop, and she always had to have his opinion. Hours of sitting at the mall, holding her purse, carrying her mountains and mountains and mountains of bags. He'd sit in the changing room with other men with embarrassed faces. They would exchange glances—misery loves company—just before looking away hurriedly.

Just when he thought he'd kill himself with impatience, she'd stroll out—"Darien! How's this?" do a little twirl, and he would give her a long, languorous look, up her tidy young body, never noticing what she was actually wearing. Serena smiled big at his appreciation, and she squealed and threw herself into his lap. "So you like it?" she'd ask again. Darien put his big hand on her sweet, soft thigh and nodded, and some of his weariness went away in her grin.

But—geez, when that woman ate! Never would know it, looking at her. Serena was small, dainty legs and tiny waist topped off with round, pale breasts. She really looked like an angel—but not when she ate. Like a ten-year-old boy, she charged at a meal with reckless abandon, sometimes embarrassing him with her gusto. He could never forget the time they went to Hamburger Heaven for lunch (probably it was after shopping all morning) and she ordered two big hamburgers and threw orders of fries, plus a whopping tall milkshake. The waitress—an attractive brunette—was startled when Serena ordered, and she glanced at him, as if for permission to take the order. The other folks in the restaurant glanced at her with the same surprise when they brought out all that food. That little girl? Eating like a goddam horse? Why, I'll be damned.

Yeah, sometimes she gave him the worst migraines. Like when she called late at night and he was studying—big test the next day—but she really needed to talk to him, tell him again about her day (he'd been there for most of it), how excited she was for their date Friday night, and, just as he wanted to be a little rude and say an abrupt good night, Serena lapsed into how much she loved and adored him. Serena was almost a poet, the way she went on about him, how handsome and patient and kind—as if he were the one who was the saint. But no—she really was something.

There were times when, in the sunshine, she turned to him with those eyes—eyes clear as truth and devastating in their realness—and he had to stop, and remember that she was a princess, and would someday be his queen. That pretty little girl, his child-bride—Queen of the 30th century. And she had been a princess too, long ago in their pasts; she had been mentored by the magnificent Queen before her—Serenity I—and she had died a horrible death alongside him, watching her entire kingdom buckle under the oppression of evil—and he remembered that he had died too, died for the sake of standing by her in the face of that evil. When those times happened, Darien remembered that he was looking into the face of not only his future, but the future of the universe.

What a child she had been, when she first bumped into him as a fourteen-year-old. A little grumpy, and scared to death of her recent failure. Crushed by her failures, often escaping into her fear and her fairytales—going shopping, eating iced cream, daydreaming her way through life. A real child, when Luna landed in her bedroom and made her into a soldier. The Soldier of the Moon—pledged, despite her fear and her failure, to protect the Earth and—yes, even him.

Darien kissed her, hard, on those days. She was a little startled by his fierceness, too, and he remembered then, that not only was she the Soldier of the Moon, but she was a tenderhearted girl. Despite her strength, the strength of her body and soul that had tamed even the famed Silver Crystal, Serena was, above all else, tender. Both tender toward others and tender to herself. Sensitive to attack, vulnerable. And she was fully capable of showing love, blinding love, a love as fierce as her Silver Crystal, to others. She showed it to Amy, Rei, Lita, and Mina—and that was why they stood next to her. Not because it was their duty, but because it was their pleasure, to have this goofy little girl next to them, to have this creature to protect.

"Serena's so full of spirit!" Amy had praised her, her eyes so full of awe. Though at the time, Darien had downplayed Serena's "spirit," he knew Amy was right. It was that spirit that he loved, so accepting of him and prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth, into madness and into despair. She had been so lonely, when he did not remember her—she had visited him in the hospital, took care of him, when she knew that he could not possibly know her. Her love was so vast, so great, that it bound him to her forever.

Yes: it was love like a child. Perhaps, above all else, Serena was a child. He was several years her senior, but it was more than that: she had a simple-minded kind of attitude toward life, she loved fully and deeply, and her soul refused to give up in the face of danger—but perhaps, that made her a grown-up. Her perseverance: her major mark of maturity. Though she still was a slob, dreadfully needy of his attention, and loud and whiny—Serena has grown significantly since he knew her. The little golden princess of his memories—she has fleshed out, become a full person with faults and goals and desires. He's seen her so weak as to lose consciousness after battle. She's wrestled with evil, barehanded. She's set in her mind that she loves him—and she will never betray him.

Darien looked closer at her that afternoon. Serena sat on his couch in his apartment, arms open like a little girl, and her smile massive. "How was your day?" she asked pleasantly. He pulled her into his arms, let his big body drape around her like a protective wall.

"Oh, I studied hard this afternoon—got an exam tomorrow."

"Ew." She wrinkled her nose. "In what subject?"

"History of Tokyo. It's actually really interesting."

She looked up at him, rested her head with its golden tangles on his arm. "Really? How so?"

He was surprised—noticed that she was trying to show interest in something that interested him. Her face was eager and open. His eyes dropped to her lips, smooth and pink and smiling. She noticed his gaze, and a little confused, her smile dropped open and a blush rose on her cheeks. She only looked more alluring to him, though—and Darien moved his lips over hers. He pulled her close to him, as if they were back in that age a long time ago when Queen Beryl was trying to separate them, as if they were back when he had just regained his memory and his body and soul swelled with need of her.

She pulled away, "What's wrong, Darien?"

His eyes were dark with desire. "Nothing," he said. She looked skeptical, so he added, "I just—do you remember when we first met?"

She blinked, twice fast. Then she giggled. "Yeah, you were such a grumpy old man back then!"

He smiled, "Seems you're making me younger."

And she must have—he felt youth and vitality in his bones, and he held her again, so grateful for his child-bride, no matter how irritated he got with her.

A/N: There! I got my SM fluff out :) R&R, guys!