Prompt: Haruka/Michiru, "I would happily take care of you forever"
Post-S-finale h/c-flavoured fluff, disregarding the existence of most of the mess that is episode 126.
The afternoon sun streaming through the window cast the hotel room in a pleasantly warm orange light. Flickers of it caught in Haruka's hair as she moved, rummaging around in their luggage and two first aid kits, fumbling with a thousand unnecessary things.
She had yet to raise her eyes and look at Michiru, sitting on the bed surrounded by an ever-growing arsenal of medical supplies, propped up by a veritable pile of pillows. Michiru sighed and turned her gaze outside again, to the rather boring view of a tree-lined parking lot. But boring – boring felt so welcome now. It was strange to think how few were aware of what momentous events had transpired not days ago, how close the world had come to utter destruction. She let her eyes briefly take in a couple slowly walking past with a stroller, a group of laughing students, probably on a school excursion, and the hotel gardener fiddling around with his lawnmower. To say she wasn't feeling at least a bit envious of their likely painfully ordinary existences would be lying. But then again…
It was a few minutes more before Haruka finally sat down on the bed next to her, and Michiru couldn't help a wince at the sharp twinge of pain that ran up her arm as the slight bounce of the mattress jostled it. A look of immense contrition immediately spilled over Haruka's face, and she rushed to fuss over the bandaged limb, fresh gauze and salves in hand.
It was her right arm, true, but Michiru could have managed fine by herself – she'd had enough experience nursing her own wounds, after all, the pain was already abating, and their senshi healing would take care of most of it anyway. But she also knew how important this was to Haruka, how much she needed to know her hands could still do more than destroy and hurt.
Some day, perhaps, the guilt would abate as well.
"What did I tell you about that arm, huh?" It was Haruka, finally breaking the silence that had settled between them.
Michiru smiled wryly. "My violin playing hardly seemed important in the face of the apocalypse."
The comment didn't have quite the anticipated effect on Haruka, however.
"Don't say things like that!" burst out of her, her brows furrowed in anger-tinged concern, and her voice sounding quite openly upset, "We're… we're done, right? At least for now. You should – I want you to play, you have to play again."
Michiru simply looked at her for a few long moments, as Haruka caught her breath and calmed a bit. She felt her surprise at the outburst turn to warm fondness, and she smiled – genuinely, this time.
"I'll play," she conceded quietly, "I'll play for you, first, as soon as I can. You deserve an entire private concert for taking such good care of me."
She glanced down at the hands between them – tenderly entwined fingers were hardly part of any nursing routine Michiru knew of, but somehow they always ended up this way. Haruka seemed to relax fully, too, the tension that had suddenly and violently spiked up draining from her almost as rapidly.
"Hey, don't worry about it, Michiru. I'd happily take care of you forever."
"Oh?"
"Well, yeah. Otherwise who's gonna take care of me?"
This Haruka was open, and gentle, and as unguarded as Michiru had ever seen her. Making tentative little steps towards something neither of them were quite ready to name yet, instead of building yet more walls around herself.
"Oh, Haruka."
Her bashful little smile and the vaguely expectant look on her face - with just the slightest amount of confusion mixed in - were probably the most endearing things Michiru had ever seen. She raised her uninjured hand and gently, almost carefully, touched it to the side of Haruka's face, knowing how skittish she could be during these quiet moments.
"Haruka," she repeated the name, almost like a reassurance, "don't run away from me."
Then she drew her in for a kiss.
It felt something like peace, and something like a second chance, and something like a beginning.