Bunny Pajamas

By Ummster

Summary: Usagi's on a mission to lighten up Mamoru. Mamoru's on a mission to find Sailor Moon. The senshi are on a mission to get the two to stop fighting. Could all three missions combine to create the ultimate, perfect mission? Includes dancing, green jackets, and short blonde hair. Usagi/Mamoru.

A/N: So…this was actually supposed to be a one-shot, but once the idea was made I went along and decided that a chapter sequence would work so much better. Since my other story, Turning Back, is extremely serious and descriptive, I figured hey, why not write something funny? So please critique…but don't flame! I need to know if it's funny or not.

And don't worry if you don't understand anything in the beginning…you're not really supposed to. It kinda just starts that way.

Disclaimer: You think if I saved up my Christmas allowance I'd be able to buy sailor moon?

Review!

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Mission Green Jacket

Click, click, clang. (Crash). "Ow!"

"Damn doorknob!" Mamoru's door was such a headache.

I wretched the crooked, still shining paperclip out of the rusty key socket, throwing it clumsily over my shoulder, and reached into the pocket of my excessively baggy, itchy sweatpants for another.

Big Mistake.

"Yeeesh, you crazy young lady! Throwing paperclips at a nice, middle-aged woman!" I whipped around to catch a glimpse of the "middle-aged woman" –and giggled. Cut the 'middle' out of the phrase and it was perfect. Not much of an eye-stealer now, were we? Apart from the wrinkly skin, tawdry jewelry, and snow-white hair, of course. Blushing, I reached into my pocket for the second time, only to find a clutter of pennies and more paperclips. I'd forgotten Mamoru Baka had lent me a sack of sparkling, freshly-minted pennies because I complained of being too poor to buy ice cream off my measly allowance. How generous.

I choked. "I'm sorry…er…miss. Would you like some help getting across the hall?"

The elderly lady swung her pin-striped cane at me maliciously. "Get across the hallway? Harrumph! Just because I'm not as young as I used to be doesn't mean some two-timing teenager who cheats on her boyfriend can harass me in public!" Hold on, lady.

Fist problem: Eh…I didn't have a boyfriend. (Insert dejected sigh) It was a wonder someone as gorgeous as me couldn't attract a single member of the male population. Who was I kidding? I conceded that I was a physical oddity. (And maybe a mental one, too). Perhaps senshi came in odd forms. Then again…Rei and Ami were normal. Lita was another story…

Second problem: Harassment? I got enough of that from the baka. It's not like I would make her the target of my anger rants on purpose. However, there were certain…people (if you could call them that) who I would rather share my unprecedented abilities with.

She continued rambling on. "I'll have you know if I didn't have arthritis you'd be writhing on the floor this very instant." Yeah Grandma, you do that. I dodged her violent, wild swings and accidentally kicked the door with my big toe, bare except for the stringy straps that led to a battered flip-flop Lita had once lent me. Man, this woman was becoming a bit scary. Just a bit.

To my surprise, the apartment door gave way with a merciful 'twang'. Without thinking I sprinted, hollering hysterically, into the open room, blonde streams bouncing against my back, and slammed the door to the old lady's screeching chatter; and the innate scratching noises on the door of the room I had locked myself into. Cackling evilly, I felt for a fist full of paperclips and with an unearthly whistle threw them up in the air. Slapping my hands in victory, I hooted loudly, only to find myself teetering on the brink of my own hysteria.

And stumbled headfirst into the arms of my arch nemesis.

"Oy, watch where you throw your paperclips, Odango Atama!" droned a wonderfully suave, irresistible, milky smooth bass. Shrieking, I tripped over…over…hey, there was nothing there! Who knew the air was so tricky? Either way, before I even had the time to look at the bloody man, I found myself sprawled on top of Mamoru's not so welcoming welcome mat, my hands draped over the drenched blonde locks wet slick against my soaking t-shirt.

I blinked up at him drowsily. According to the plan, Andrew was supposed to have lured Mamoru out of his little hell hole, not the other way around.

"Eh hehe…hello Mamoru-san."

He looked me down curiously. "I think you mean Baka."

"Oh, why ever would I think that?" He rolled his eyes, and in one swift movement had pulled me up against the wall, his wandering midnight blue eyes interrogating and reckless.

"What the hell were you thinking, Odango," he murmured, "and why did you just break into my apartment?" He looked me over curiously. "How do you even know where my apartment is?"

I shivered unconsciously at the contact, my eyelids fluttering closed. Suddenly they whipped open angrily. Damn that man! "My name's Usagi, you JERK!"

"That's not a sufficient answer, Odango."

I pushed him away and folded my arms haughtily across my heaving chest, mind breeching to find the most logical excuse for my escapades. "Perhaps I was hungry? As much as it so fills that bloated head of yours, I did NOT come here to admire your apartment –or you for that matter."

"I'm hurt."

I rolled my eyes at his intended sarcasm, a part of me wishing it hadn't been.

Inner Usagi: Gaaaa, go away you pesky little thought! Pumps arms Weee…

Well. That did the job. "Yet it seems…like someone doesn't seem to be in the mood to provide me assistance."

Smirking, he retorted, "Didn't I give you a sack of pennies last week? To buy ice cream?"

The nerve of that man! I watched as fiery wisps of ballerinas, their smoky neon pink tutus bouncing against their dissolving bodies, fluttered out of my earlobe to the melody of the Nutcracker symphony, their graceful, long legs easily contorting over their stoic little faces. I closed my eyes and hummed along with it, my klutzy hands curling around myself.

I blinked and they were gone, and my sky-blue eyes unconsciously fell upon the quirky eyebrows (beyond belief) and intense cobalt eyes, features swimming with amusement, that collected to form the utterly, unbearably, devilishly handsome face of my arch nemesis. I repeat: the nerve of that man!

"What the hell was that?" he asked, catching me against his rippling wall of iron (aka his CHEST) before I could tumbled to the ground again.

"How DARE you insult my secret weapon!"

His eyes glazed over and he held his arms up in defense, (sigh, it's too bad I didn't have enough time to find my ground), his fingers briskly brushing away strands of glossy ebony black hair. "Whoa, I was just kidding, Odango. And to think, I once thought I took things seriously."

"You do."

"Why, thank you."

"Well, if you really feel that way, I'll just turn myself around and…"

"Aw Odango…You know I couldn't do that. Besides, Andrew'd dice me."

"Mmm!" I smacked my lips greedily, thrusting wandering blonde lashes of hair over my shoulder. "Doesn't sound too bad. Mamoru for dinner."

Instantly he burst out laughing, his chest heaving inches away from mine, his silky smooth raven black hair graciously covering those gorgeous…erm…hideous cobalt eyes of his. My eyes widened as I realized what I had just said and slapped a hand across my flustered cheeks. "NO! You pervert! I didn't mean it like that…never mind," I sighed when he flopped onto his sofa, shoulders still shaking from uncontrollable laughter.

"Oh my god! Are you crying?" Wow. Wish I'd brought a camera.

He stared at me blankly, and then shook his head. "The fridge's that-a-way." He pointed a shaky finger to his right.

"I knew that!" I yelled defiantly and bounded towards the white utopia. And there I stood, wondering how the blue-ice cream box had suddenly appeared in my clumsy fingers and why my face was buried in the lid. "Aaaa…" I moaned, my eyes drooping drowsily. In an instant they were wide open, peering perplexedly at my companion. "Hey! I need some eating room here, baka!"

He shook his head sadly, walking back to his coach flipping on the TV. "You're the only person I know who eats ice cream when it's pouring outside."

"Well, that's me for you."

He shrugged and fixed his attention on the flashing news updates blinking at him from atop the TV screen.

Perfect Timing.

Surreptitiously, I tiptoed out of the desolate kitchen (which by the way wasn't as hard as it sounds –all Mamoru had was a batch of repelling mint chocolate ice cream) and into the room I figured was the unfortunate area given the duty of supporting Mamoru's man-fat. Well…more like ego-fat.

My jaw dropped, the innate chattering of my teeth resonating against the timid lines of my upper chin. I'd expected something along the lines of "I love Mamoru" banners and billboards for the Mamoru fan club, or better yet, pictures of his own bloated head marched in an organized fixade atop his bed-post. And yet all I found was a mundane, atypical room, desolate except for the lonely birch nightstand and matching, elegantly simple comforter. It was actually quite nice –at least, a vacation from the trashed, heaven-knows-when-cleaned area that formed my bedroom. If bedrooms were cells…that baby'd be mutated. (Perhaps the one thing I'd learned in Bio). Trust me; you didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure that out.

And there, staring up at me from the plush satin bedspread, I found the one and only, impenetrable, impossibly, horribly green…baka's JACKET!

Mission Accomplished.

Glancing around myself stealthily, I swiftly grabbed the rag and made for a wild dash to the door of his apartment, praying blindly that somehow the echoing, monotonous sounds of Wolf Blitzer would drown out the thuds of my clumsy feet pounding across the furnished wood floor.

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A/N: A little confusing…but I promise it'll get better. Like many other authors, my stories grow as they develop. I get an idea; I just start writing. I have no idea where this'll go. But it'll go somewhere. I have the idea for the next chapter, actually I've already started writing it. There I introduce the conflict. So bear with me…and wait…

…and waiting includes REVIEWING!

And yes…I did have a lot of fun with this! I wrote it as Serena was me, and tried to think of as many absurd comments as I could. I encourage the more timid members of our population to try it. (And that does NOT mean I'm not timid…I actually am. Can't tell, can you?)