I promised SOMEone a Mako/Ami story and wrote this instead. Hahaha, funny how that works.

I'm kinda happy I'm writing anything really. This dry spell needs to end anyway. I'm diving head first into the pool again, no one can stop me.

SM Crystal is fabulous. I regret nothing.

I don't own anything.

Humming the chorus to an American rock band's song, Haruka dried herself off from her shower. Her head nodded lightly with the imagined beat as she slipped on her underwear. Silky black boxers and a black sports bra. The suit Michiru had picked out for tonight hung on the back of the bathroom door. Too absorbed in the music playing in her head, she roughly toweled off her hair and grinned at her reflection.

The grin slowly gave way to a pout. Haruka frowned at the way her hair chose to settle. Instead of a flawless mess, there was something off... She sighed and picked up Michiru's brush and ran it through her hair angrily.

Now she looked like a school boy. She made a face at her perfectly combed hair. The song faded from her focus, when she took the discarded towel and tried again.

Better! Her hair looked fluffy and windswept. The only problem was the couple strands of hair that stood straight up. She looked like a rooster.

Haruka pulled at the hairs, trying to lay them flat. No such luck. As soon as she let them go, they flew right back where they were.

"Michiru!" She whined.

Her partner's voice answered from their bedroom, "Yes Haruka?"

"I can't go to the concert with you tonight…"

They had been planning this night for weeks, so the violinist was confused. She closed her book and set it aside on her nightstand. "And why not?"

Haruka stepped out of the bathroom and pointed to her uncooperative hair.

Michiru, after taking a slow once over of her lover (she was blessed), raised an eyebrow, "Your head hurts?"

Haruka made an indignant noise. "No! My hair!"

The painter sighed and gracefully stood from their bed. She moved to stand in front of Haruka, who had her head hung in defeat. Then Michiru noticed the small patch of hair that was out of place.

"Haruka…" She said, exasperated. Michiru reached up to thread her fingers through her lover's blonde locks. Gently, she ruffled the soft hair.

The racer pulled away, horrified, but the damage was done. She shot a betrayed look at Michiru.

"There," Michiru flipped gorgeous blue hair over her shoulder, pleased with herself. "Now hurry, I need to get ready as well."

Haruka rushed to the bathroom. She admired her perfectly messed up hair and began to rock out again. The music in her head was cranked to 11 and all was right in the world.