A/N: Not my best. But the idea hit me – can you guess where? – and it was easy enough to type up. It's missing a line that I really want to put in, though. Well, two, if you count this really inappropriate one. Heheheh.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
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Early in their marriage, such as when he realized how messy the house was getting, Darien was hesitant to bring up things Serena did that bothered him.
By about three months in, however, a certain sense of security had settled, and so, as he walked into the kitchen one morning, tapping the side of his head to get water out of his ear, he said bluntly, "Serena, your shower spray nearly gouged my eyes out."
Where she was leaning over the counter with the newspaper comics spread out over the toaster–he'd told her not to do that, she was going to start a fire one of these days, and just because he could immediately summon water to put it out, he didn't want to lose the ten years he was sure it would scare off his life–Serena giggled a little.
"That would make the news," she said. "'Man blinded twice in one lifetime!' You'd make the Guinness Book of World Records."
"I'm already in there," Darien grumbled, twitching her newspaper off of the hot toaster as he moved to the coffee maker and poured some of the coffee she'd started for him. "Under 'man with cruelest wife.'"
"A-HEM, remember who made that coffee for you, mister," Serena began hotly. But then her strudels popped out of the toaster, distracting her.
A little bemusedly, he watched her bite right into one of them despite the fact that it was so hot that a bit of steam was curling up from it. The heat didn't appear to faze her at all; with one strudel held between her teeth, she put the other on a plate and took it to the table, where she drizzled it with icing and then maple syrup.
His stomach rolled slightly, and he turned back to the counter, opening one of the cabinets. "I'm serious, you know. Do you have to set the spray at such a high pressure?"
"It's NOT high." Serena swiveled around in her chair, still chewing, a strudel in her hand. She swallowed. "It's just that you're used to using a TRICKLE. I don't see how you even manage to get your hair clean."
"I don't see how you manage not to go bald, with how strong you always have it on," he retorted, pulling a bagel from the cabinet and putting it in the toaster. He turned around, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, and had to hide a smile at the deeply baleful look she was giving him from above her strudel.
Behind him, the bagels popped out of the toaster. He put them on a plate, grabbed some orange marmalade, and slid into the chair across from Serena.
"You know," she began as he scraped a thin layer of marmalade onto the bagels. "If we're going to start complaining about bathroom habits, I could point out how you never put the seat back down."
Darien's marmalade-scraping did not falter. His propriety-obsessed conscience was completely clear. "Yes, I do."
Serena made a face. "I know you do," she grumbled. And for some reason, she was glaring at him more balefully than ever – "It's not fair!"
Darien blinked at her sudden outburst.
Serena threw herself against the back of her chair, making a frustrated sound. "Why can't you ever do anything WRONG?"
Darien set down his knife and took a bite from his bagel, watching curiously to see how this tantrum would turn out.
"It's not like I'm asking for a lot!" she ranted. "Just one little thing! So that next time I'm with the girls and they're all complaining about their husbands, I can join in a say, I KNOW, Darien's ALWAYS doing that, it's so ANNOYING!"
She stopped, pink-cheeked and panting with her effort, and looked at him.
He looked back, fighting back a smile. "That's really what you want?"
Serena nodded vigorously.
"Okay." Darien leaned back in his chair, wiping his sticky fingertips on a napkin. "Then from now on, I will be a textbook example of a bad husband." He counted off on his fingers. "I'll snore, drink milk from the carton, leave my clothes everywhere, eat things without cleaning up…"
He trailed off as their eyes met in slow realization.
"Uh," he said as her eyes narrowed at him. "I didn't mean to make it sound just like you."
But instead of yelling at him like he had expected, Serena just deflated with a huge sigh. "I really am a bad wife, aren't I?"
He couldn't resist. "Considering the context, I think it means you're a bad husband."
Now she scowled at him. "I was being serious."
He leaned across the table to thumb a bit of icing from her nose. "Odango, the only thing serious about you saying you're a bad wife is how seriously wrong it is."
Serena bit her lip against a smile and, to his faint surprise and less faint pleasure, broke into a little blush.
"Oh, fine," she mumbled. "I'm sorry about the shower. I'll try harder to remember to turn it back."
Her contrition made him feel equally apologetic. "No, I shouldn't have complained. I should check before I turn it on."
They looked at each other. Then they laughed. Serena came around the table and sat on his lap, putting her arms around her neck and resting her head under his chin. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed his thumb in lazy circles across the bottom of her ribs through her silky blouse.
"I'll ask the girls," said Serena after a few minutes. "I'm sure one of them has run into this problem before. Probably Rei and Numa."
"You do that," said Darien, not keen on the idea of other people knowing about his shower habits but also knowing that, nine times out of ten, Serena made plans to talk to her friends about something and completely forgot.
Serena beamed and gave him a sticky kiss on the lips, then spotted the clock, gasped, "I'm late!" and shot out of his lap for the front door.
-
By that night, the showering matter had completely slipped Darien's mind. It had been Serena's turn to cook that night, which always meant that the dishes needed a little more scrubbing than usual to get all the unidentified, charcoal-like substances off of them. Serena, wiping the dishes dry beside him, had responded to his gibes about her cooking a little more slowly than usual, which made him think she was probably tired, or maybe worried about the big winter shoot that was coming up.
She surprised him, therefore, when she turned from putting the last dish away, and said casually, "I talked to Mina today."
Darien made a noncommittal hum, his arms covered up to the elbows with soap suds as he drained the sink. "That's nice. Did you talk about anything interesting."
"She said that we should just shower together."
The sink gurgled as the last of the water choked past a few stray noodles. Darien sputtered as he choked on air.
"She said you should – you and her?" What the hell was Mina thinking, he'd thought Haruka was the only one of the Senshi he had to worry about having designs on Serena –
"Not me and her." Serena rolled her eyes. "Me and you."
Darien stopped choking. Water dripped down his finger, plunk, plunk, plunk into the sink. He looked at Serena.
She looked back. For a minute, there was silence.
"It doesn't really make sense…" she began.
"No sense at all," agreed Darien.
There was another silence as they looked at each other.
"I'll get some towels," said Darien.
"I'll get the hot water started," said Serena.
