She always finished her food before him, and that day was no exception.
Mamoru took his time with his dinner, enjoying the mundane nature of sitting next to Usagi on the couch as she drooled over a cooking show despite having just finished eating. A few minutes after putting down her plate, she got up to get a second round of dinner and had even finished that before he finally put down his fork on his first course.
They sat comfortably side by side, enjoying the look of the yummy food being prepared on screen and laughing at the antics of the boisterous host. Usagi shifted on the couch next to him, laying down so her head was on a pillow in Mamoru's lap. He had one arm draped over the back of the couch and put the other to work first stroking her hair - he was always amazed at how silky it was! - then tracing a gentle line down her neck to rub at her shoulders. He knew her body so well, taking care to press just right on the spots where she held the most tension. She moaned low with every pass of his fingers and shifted to tilt her head out of the way and encourage him to continue.
Like he needed any convincing.
It never took much for her to get him going - he felt like he spent half his life fighting to remain cool and level headed in her presence. Every wide smile, little giggle, or toss of her hair made him feel uncomfortably warm no matter the weather. She could be doing anything - really anything - and he would find himself needing a conscious reminder to cool down. The other day she was arguing with Rei - something she did constantly - and with one cute little huff he could feel his heart racing and had the overwhelming need to remove his gaze before he did something rash like sling her over his shoulder and run for privacy. Of course averting his eyes in that particular instance meant he locked eyes with a knowing Minako - because of course it did - and with a flustered excuse he left as quickly as he could. Maybe not the most level headed of moves because Usagi had been so worried that she had upset him in some way that later that evening at home she had been in near tears.
Needless to say that the little moans escaping Usagi as he rubbed her shoulders? Yeah, they were like some kind of sweet audible torture.
So when the show ended and she turned to him and asked in a determined little voice, "want to get naked?" he almost choked.
Because yes he couldn't think of anything else in the world that he wanted to do more. But…
"Usagi, you're tipsy."
"I am not," she protested. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she huffed. "I had one drink hours ago. I'm totally sober right now."
"I don't think so," he said.
"But I am!" she whined. He was still unconvinced. This was clearly evident on his face, so she stood decisively. "I'll prove it. Look, I'll walk in a straight line."
She looked at him pointedly before she starting placing one foot directly in front of the other, walking forward somewhat awkwardly. He couldn't hold back his laugh as she stepped her front foot a little to close to her back foot and tripped a little when she went to lift her back foot.
"See?" she said when she had taken five or six steps, "totally sober."
"You tripped!" he argued, laughing.
"I did not!" she said. Then she started reversing her line, toe to heal, "see? I can walk in a straight line forwards and backwards. I'm 100% sober."
"Recite the alphabet backwards, then," he challenged.
She gaped at him. "But I can't even do that sober!"
"So you admit you're drunk."
"I am not drunk!" she said, putting her hands on her hips. He tried not to focus too much on his desire for the hands on her hips to be his.
"You just said you weren't sober," he argued.
"No," she said, "I said I can't recite the alphabet backwards no matter if I'm sober or drunk." He shrugged, but didn't respond, so she crossed her arms and gave it her best shot. "Z, Y, X, uh…" she whispered the alphabet under her breath and he laughed at the cute look of concentration on her face. "W, V, U, T, S, R… right?"
"Right," he nodded. He leaned down and removed one of his socks. She seemed heartened at this action. Again she whispered the alphabet to herself before continuing.
"Q, P, O…uh…N, M, L…"
He took off his other sock and got up to walk slowly to the bedroom.
"Did I convince you that I'm sober enough to give consent, yet?" she asked.
He smirked. "You were," he said, then leaned down to put one of his socks back on.
"No!" she protested, "uh…K, J, I…" more whispering, "H, G, F, uh, E, D, C, B, A!"
She finished on a proud note, but he didn't see the triumphant look on her face because he was already naked and waiting for her in bed.
Just a cute little fic on consent. Just a reminder that consent can't be given if you or your partner is drunk. No matter how long you've been in a relationship.