A/N: Written for MamoUsa Week 2018 hosted by mamousaweek on Tumblr. Day Four's prompt was Date Night Usagi and Mamoru. I had to skip Day 3 because I have never actually seen any piece of PGSM except for screen shots.
...
The second the clock ticked over five pm, Mamoru flew out of the clinic. This was one of those rare nights when the stars had aligned - where Usagi had managed to avoid any late-night meetings, the girls didn't have any social engagement planned, Mamoru was not on call, and Ikuko had agreed to babysit Chibiusa overnight. That meant he and his wife were going on a date – an actual date with wine, romantic lighting, and the adult company of his favorite person on the planet.
He tossed his white coat into the back seat revealing the business casual ensemble underneath, and leapt into the front seat as eager as Chibiusa ever was on Christmas morning. He drove directly to the restaurant, in such a hurry he almost ran a red light. He stopped at the signal at the last second, and forced himself to breathe.
When he arrived, he didn't bother to look for parking – just tossed his keys to the valet and headed straight inside to "their" table. Usagi was already there dressed in her pale green dress – the one that left her shoulders bare, accenting her enticing neck.
"Usako," he purred, slipping into the seat beside her, not willing to sit across the table where he wouldn't be able to touch her, even if it meant he would be able to fall into her eyes just a little easier. Her small delicate fingers immediately interlaced with his own.
"Mamo-chan," she greeted with a face splitting smile. "I feel like I haven't really seen you in weeks!"
"Five weeks, three days, and four hours."
"You've been counting?"
"No, but it sounded good, didn't it?"
She laughed. An angelic sound that he had missed. Between the insane schedule of a first-year resident, a brand new social worker of the prefecture who got the worst caseloads, a toddler that got into all sorts of mischief, and unpredictable paranormal responsibilities, it felt like they were juggling partners more than husband and wife. His number may have been a guess, but it was an educated guess. It felt like they only ever saw each other to hand off their daughter or gift the other with a plate of leftovers and a quick kiss good-bye.
"How are you?" she asked him with sparkling compelling eyes.
"I am-" he started.
"May I answer any questions about the menu?" a server interrupted from the unoccupied side of the table.
Mamoru shot daggers at the young dark-haired waiter, who slumped immediately under his visual assault.
His wife squeezed his hand, clearly urging him to be calm. "We're ready to order actually."
It had been a few months since they had been here, and the workers had long ago stopped recognizing their faces, but they had once been regulars to this particular restaurant and knew their standard menu if not all the particular specials. It had no emotional significance or meaning – just a convenient location, a quiet ambiance, and food up to Mamoru's standards of excellence. But having a baby tended to change how your criteria for what made something an excellent restaurant.
The young man took their requests efficiently and dashed off, no doubt eager to flee the table and Mamoru's unwelcoming glare.
"Where were we?"
No sooner than he had asked the question, then Usagi's senshi communicator sounded – its familiar warning slicing through his glee like a hot knife through butter. Usagi growled in frustration, but Mamoru could only laugh at this point.
"You go," he told her with a quick kiss. "I will take care of the bill and be right behind you."
She nodded and took off, her green dress hugging her hips in the most enticing way.
He cornered their waiter again, handed him twice what their meal had cost. "Can you box the food? Someone will be by to pick it up in about thirty minutes. Be sure that it's ready by then and you can keep the change."
The young lad nodded frantically, suddenly grinning from ear to ear. He supposed it was just as well that he made someone's night – even if it wasn't his wife's. He felt the pull of her transformation like an itch just beneath his skin – wanting to burst forth. He held it in until he was safely away from eyes in an alleyway across the way. The golden power pulsed over his form, and he felt the strength of his birthright roaring through his ears. He leapt into the skyline, and followed the magnetic pull that would lead him to his beloved.
He kept to a vantage point on top of a low hanging balcony close to the action, but out of the way, prepared as always to provide a helpful distraction or whisk her out of harm's reach. He was supposed to watch the beast that stalked his love, but his cobalt eyes drifted to the warrior as she stopped the creature in its tracks. Kami-sama, she had come such a long way since she started out as the Sailor Guardian of the Moon. Kicks and thrusts as precise and well-placed as any professional martial artist. Her twists and spirals as graceful and elegant as a dancer.
His whole body warmed, shook with a need to be closer to her – to touch her, to feel the press of her form against his own, the warmth of her flesh beneath his own.
She didn't need him though. She delivered her final blow with a casual flick of her wand, and the enemy was no more than a phantom.
Before any of the other senshi could comment or call, he swept her off her feet to the crest of a nearby skyscraper, crushing his lips down onto hers, pressing his swollen groin into her stomach so she knew how stunning he found her in that moment. She moaned softly, then pushed him back as if urging him to slow down. Her teeth pressed down on her bottom lip maddeningly, making him want to seize her all over again.
"I'm sorry our date was ruined," she said softly.
"There's plenty of it still left," he corrected.
"But we lost our table."
"I made other arrangements."
If the waiter had been intimidated by Mamoru's icy glare earlier, he was frozen in place at the sight of Tuxedo Kamen looming over him demanding the boxes of steaming fare. The hostess standing beside him was quick to comply with a little squeak. He nodded gratefully, offering her his most dazzling smile. She swooned, but he didn't notice – completely intent on returning to his favorite senshi who waited for him on the rooftop above.
She had sat down, clearly expecting they would have some sort of picnic, but he pulled her up to his feet and handed her the bagged take-out, before pulling her into his arms. There were simply far better views in Tokyo to settle for this.
The ended up on the top of Tokyo Tower, feet dangling off the side, each with an open take out box in their hands. They shared their lives with one another – the whole five weeks and three days or whatever it was. He hung on her every word, and drank in her crystal blue gaze as she listened to him.
He watched her carefully, hardly touching his own food for more than a morsel or two. Usagi never approved of his interrupting her meal – especially after a battle, and so he had to wait. But the second that take out box was empty all bets were off.
His hands needed to be all over her.
...
A/N: I have no idea if I will have time to work on Day 5 (Something in the future during Crystal Tokyo, but I will try. I definitely KNOW I have plans for Day 7 (Usagi's Birthday), so there will be at least one more. Possible three if the stars align. We will see!