A/N: Hi guys! I know I should probably get my other stories off the ground before I start a new one, but I had this idea and had to write it! I was reading Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist for the fourth time (after learning it's going to be a movie! you should all read it, it's great!) and sort of decided to play with the idea and Usagi and Mamoru. I'm sure it will be distinctly different, but it will probably follow along the same lines, a night out on the town, etc, etc. I'm not sure if I should make it Mature or Teen, though it will be sexual, I will not write a full sex scene (sorry!). Soooooo, anyways. Here you go! Enjoy!

Don't forget to read and review!

Disclaimer: If you thought I owned Sailor Moon, you are sadly mistaken and I mourn for you're sanity.

I'm too scared to notice, the path I chose is focused tight.
Corsshairs on, something's wrong I shouldn't try to try.
And baby it's the beer that's smiling, it ain't me.
Point me at the door 'cause I've been trying to leave.
Basement passions, schoolgirl action ain't in fashion now, I'll miss you when you're gone so just get out.

Tripped into a hole I dug every word, with my ear to the ground I loved what I heard, and I couldn't think of leaving while you're feeling down, I just rest my eyes and you blow town.

Tripped into a hole I loved what I heard, with my ear to the ground I dug every word, and I couldn't think of leaving while you're feeling down, I just rest my eyes and you float down.

Tripped - Bright Eyes

Mamoru was absolutely peeved. He couldn't remember a time when he was angrier. His suit was becoming a petulance, buttons restraining his neck, once classy and contemporary tie was now a bothering nuisance. He decided these were the things that put him in this state of distress. The expensive leather shoes were exasperating, confining him and squeaking boldly, making his presence known to all in the elegant ballroom whenever he decided to move from one boring group to the other. This fact caused him to tarry against the wall, foot up, supporting his toned torso. His head hung, inky locks hiding his scowl. Mamoru poised the champagne flute in his wide hands, bringing it to his lips in rage while he ignorantly disregarded the real reason he was, well, pissed.

Her.

He had told her not to come. He clearly manifested to her that wherever she knew he would be, to avoid it. To put it plainly, in a blind fit of agonizing pain, he told her to stay the fuck away from him. She owed it to him. I mean, she broke his heart. The least she could do was sacrifice a few boring parties.

What made him even more disturbed, was that she knew he would be here. He was to be her original date. It was circled on her calendar and everything.

He convinced himself she did this only to screw with him. If only he was that lucky.

Did she have no regard for his feelings? After their time together, Mamoru thought the girl would at least try to not tempt him, tease him, but instead she did just that. Her dress was low cut, a deep maroon color that draped down to her navel in the front and did the same to her back. It was slinky and shiny and thin enough for him to picture all that was underneath. Mamoru swallowed. The hem reached modestly past mid-thigh, long legs accentuated by the delicate ebony stiletto's placed on her small feet. He watched her neck, sporting a long necklace that descended between the valley of her supple breasts, a small diamond rose placed precariously on the chain. He watched her pale limbs move with charm, flirtatious hand placed on the chest of her arm candy, a tall man wearing a suit, cautiously resting a hand on her waist. Her hair swaying with every movement, shiny and inviting him.

Mamoru pictured his hand on her thin hips, rubbing her side lovingly with a thumb. Because that's what he was with her, in love. His imaginings carried him farther. He watched himself kiss her nimbly with skill, hands running down her shoulders, carrying the silk of her dress down with them, ending in her hair. He pushed her against the door of his apartment, her hands frantically unbuttoning his shirt, deftly arousing him with the smooth perusal of his toned chest, hands finding stay around his neck. He pleasured himself on her throat, love bites accompanying his way down to her chest. Mamoru's hands rolled over her breasts which were now peaked with anticipation and desire, thumbs teasing. She gasped his name, "Please, Mamoru. Don't mock me." He easily complied, smiling and delighting himself and her with his tongue, nipping and licking and pulling and tweaking and pinching, tasting her smooth skin. She moaned, "Now, now, now, Mamoru. I need you, please. Fast."

He was jolted out of his reverie by that witch's laugh, tinkling and carrying across the ballroom to his fine-tuned ears. And all the sudden, she was looking at him, face smiling and pleasantly surprised. He watched as she politely excused herself and dragged her boy toy in his direction. Mamoru's face twisted with pain, hating her with every bone in his body that once loved her. He was past the state of injured and denial and now into the phase of pure outrage. Or at least, that's what Motoki told him. There was phases after a break up. Some long, some short, some quick, some slow and some fiercely excruciating. But they all existed and were designed to wrench one's heart and soul. It had been the worst three weeks, four days and three hours of his life and Mamoru was right on schedule for his fit of fury. He sneered, recalling the time line Motoki layed out for him. He remembered that then he was to somber to care, to bitter to listen. He was still bitter, but now he cared. Mamoru made a mental note to dig up the offending paper and prepare himself for the next, and hopefully final, stage.

Mamoru dragged himself back to the event, noticing he still had a few minutes left to wallow in his impending doom, watching as she wove herself through the crowd, briefly stopping to hug various women and kiss cheeks with grace. He was worried. How would this look? Her, gorgeous, smiling, with a date. Him, melancholy, jealous and above all, alone. Shit. Mamoru looked around frantically and grabbed the first slim wrist he saw. The woman had her back to him and was beginning to walk away, sweet and thin hips emphasized by a black silk ribbon that tied around the equally as black dress. It was classic and classy and tasteful and alluring all in one. He took her in fully when she turned around, wine glass balancing in between her slim, jeweless fingers. Her tresses were glossy and curled lightly, falling around her shoulders down the length of her back. A simple stoned headband was placed in them, the stone shining and glimmering under the chandelier. He traveled down to her cerulean eyes, wide with inquiry. He ignored the look. Her elfin nose and pert lips were enticing and delectable, light flush on her cheeks fetching and endearing. Her swan like neck was also lacking jewelry. The black dress had a normal, modest but not in the least homely, neckline, leaving a man wanting more.

And that's exactly what Mamoru wanted. At least long enough to endure his vile ex's torturous 'catching up'.

"Yes?" She bit out, obviously aggravated and in a rush by the restlessness in her tone and body language.

He closed his mouth, not realizing he had been gaping. "I'm sorry, I know this might sound strange, but would you mind being my date for five minutes?" How had he not noticed this girl before? Oh right, his self pity, he thought with an inward scoff.

He took a painful look to the right, seeing the raven locks quickly approaching.

"What?" She watched his eyes travel across the room and lock on the pale and exotic girl coming their way. Before he had a chance for a hasty explanation and repetition of the question, her small hands were around his neck, lips on his. She ravaged his mouth, mouth dominant and strong. Mamoru was stunned, but quickly placed his hands on her waist, fingers wrapping around her hips and massaging. His lips returned her power with just as much force, bending her over and under him, his broad chest pressing against hers. Their champagne and wine glasses were dangling haphazardly in their hands, pressing the rims into eachother's backs. Mamoru felt her mew softly, swallowing her sounds of pleasure. Still bent over, somehow defying the laws of gravity and almost parallel, Mamoru ran his hand up from her hip and let his thumb linger lazily on the underside of her breast. He smiled into the kiss when he felt her gasp. Her intake of air broke their lips apart and they were lost in eachother for what seemed like centuries. Limbs, breaths, hands, eyelashes, and noses tangled together in gleaming passion and burning heat.

Mamoru lifted the petite girl to a full standing height, a possessive arm settled around her waist, her returning gesture with a slim arm above his shoulders, fingers swirling the hair on the nape of his neck seductively, tempting him. She ran her fingernails along the top of his spine and he saw her smile out of the corner of his eye when she felt the goosebumps rise.

His attention was officially dismembered and unfocused, he could barely speak. So he let her to the talking. Well, he would of, if Rei wouldn't of spoken up first.

"Usagi? Mamoru? How the fuck do you know eachother?"