Drunken Mamoru saga

"So, that Kino girl is pretty fine." Motoki slurred, eyeballing his half amber glass thoughtfully. His comrade nodded thoughtlessly, nursing a shot. The dingy sounds around them blurred in a ruckus of high pitched laughing and low grumbles. Dim lights stretched on over head like it was some sort of competition who could be more pathetic at illuminating the dirty bartop. Neither was losing.

"You know, I think once Rieka left, its been nice." Again, his partner in crime nodded, but didn't say anything. "the house is all...all mucked up. Like it should be."

"Right." The dark voice slurred as well, lifted blue eyes from the counter. He searched, but there was no sign of depression or remorse in the statement. Rather, the drunken arcade manager was grinning like a lewd.

"And Makoto is…leggy! And she's got green eyes, like me."

"Maybe you could have green eyed kids." Mamoru answered, signaling for another drink. The glass was filled by a faceless tender, this time sipped despite the fiery liquids strength.

"You know, I was just thinking...we could have an army!" The inebriated Casanova made to stand, but struggled with the concept of two feet before flopping back down on the stool. A dark chuckle broke the sudden quiet as Mamoru shifted up in his seat.

"Off to declare your love?"

"In a minute." He muttered gutturally, fingering a half eaten plate of burritos. "What about you, MamoMamo. Have your pick of all the ladies!" Pale arms flailed widely at the words, nearly claiming the young man in a cement floor death.

"No thanks. I've got plans." Always cool and confident, even bleary eyed drunk with his best friend.

"Oh? They wouldn't involve a certain blond, would they?" The mischievous grin was ruined by murky eyes and a twitch. Mamoru finished the last of his glass, setting the vial down with an unsteady clink.

"Hmm? You?" He wondered, blinking several times to make the familiar form visible again. He'd have to take the bus home, as much as he hated to admit it. They'd gone overboard after finals this time, and it was showing a little too well.

"No! Of course...well of course me too, but what about Usagi?" The blond perched his head on a fist curiously, eyeing him as if there were some secret only alcohol could bring to light.

"Who?" He rumbled, wondering why the name jangled in the back of his mind.

"You know, big blue eyes, legs up to here," he gestured wildly above his head, losing a fork for his efforts. The blank stare continued. "Donkey laugh?"

"Oh," the dark man chuckled again, setting the glass down decisively. "You mean my stalker."

"She's stupor cute." Motoki flailed, this time with his mouth. A wet smile tugged at his best friend's face. Aptly put for the spitfire, he would have to agree. The young girl would rival him one day for fans, of that there was no doubt.

"She is so...weird." He professed finally, feeling a strange weight in his chest. It had already begun, with Seijurro and that one kid who was always talking about statistics –not that the little middle-schooler had any interest in that. Frankly, if a girl couldn't talk math, what else could they possibly discuss?

"Yeah." Motoki nodded sagely, smacking his mouth as he thought. Inwardly, his companion agreed; alcohol was fun, but tasted pretty much like death. "What about Natsumi?"

Thoughts of his other little follower brought a fresh bout of tightness in his gut. Usagi meant well, even if she did pretend she was a space princess, but Unazuki was...pushy. If there was one thing he really couldn't stand, it was entitlement; more particularly if it happened to have red hair.

"I'd rather not." He muttered finally, downing the rest of his other drink in one go.

"Grass is always greener, hu? They both seem like nice girls."

It was true, they both seemed nice. He'd lost his temper with Natsumi in the apartment last week, but she'd been harassing a baby! Seriously, the girl had to be mental. And Usagi, he wondered if he'd ever get those demented faces out of his head. They were both nuts.

"What if...what if you end up with one of them?" The blond asked conspiratorialy, his hand smacking the side of his mouth in a pathetic attempt at secrecy.

"You mean, if there weren't any other girls, say, in our college classes?" His friend nodded, much more serious than the situation really called for. "what makes you think I could, or would, get in edgewise? I mean, they're cute girls. There's a lot of lonely guys out there."

"No, you know. You know!" His buddy was definitely getting more drunk by the second, but at least he really did know. The logical part of his brain had had its fun, but now was time for fanciful things. Like imagination. He didn't like that bit. "Fess up, my batman wannabe! Who would you pick?"

The two were night and day, a glowering sunrise forcing you out of bed, or sweet moonlight ready and waiting for whatever. He had a rather disturbing feeling that things as they were would not last long. He hardly knew either of them, and frankly he didn't feel the need to figure it out right now. And at least with Usagi, the expectation was more like hope.

"Eh, probably the Odango. Red's not my style."

"Yeah, she's weird." The sage comment came between hiccups.

The duo paused long enough to view a pool player get slapped for his efforts by a teetering woman in red. Both glanced at each other, grinned, and pounded fists for catching the exchange.

The woman immediately flopped against a table for her efforts, causing both men to chuckle into their glasses.

"Plus she's handsy." Mamoru shuddered suddenly, retracing the snow white debacle that had left strange, knowing faces on the younger girls; almost like they were laughing at him.

"Usagi try something on you?" Motoki asked, vaguely attempting to balance a spoon on his head.

"Hm? Oh, nope." Though the idea was appealing. She was too young to date outright, but something told him those kitten hands would be all too apt at certain things. The thought almost cracked the perfect mask of his face. Almost.

"Bummer."

"Sure you don't like her?" Coolly, he offered the question, noting it took more effort than normal to keep his voice level.

"Of course I do." Motoki muttered thoughtlessly, still smacking his lips together. Mamoru tensed. "Hello! She's hot! And sweet." The blond was staring off into space again. "Gorgeous." He smacked again, this time earning a wince from the other man. "Hilarious."

"The hell, man, just ask her out then!" The darker man bit out angrily, staring at his shot glass with every ounce of hatred he could muster. It didn't matter. It was just the Odango.

"Yeah, nope." The smacking thing would actually have to stop now, otherwise he'd end up strangling his best friend out of shear annoyance. "I'm thinkin' in green. At least I won't have to fold myself in half just to kiss her."

He didn't bother to answer. Even after hauling the blubbering fool from his seat and bundling him into a taxi, he kept his smart mouth shut. As the late night closed around, and the crickets chirped in the grass, he stumbled along the sidewalk toward home, barely recognizing streets as he went. It was but a few minutes later, when his stumbling feet snagged a chunk of uneven sidewalk, and sent the tall form crashing forward.

A voice, calling down from above, seemed to echo around the fallen man. But it was strange, because he'd always thought God was a man, and didn't have so much childish triumph in her voice.

"Now who's the Odango! Ha!"

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….

What will Usagi do with a drunken Mamoru? Who will save our poor hero from his asphalt humiliation? Why is our precious, sweet Usagi out on the streets at some unknown hour of the morning?

Eh, you'll see next week ;)

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