Chapter 1

"No. No, no. Absolutely not."

Mamoru shook his head, damp obsidian locks dancing in front of his closed eyes. The melting snow glistened starkly against his hair and dripped onto his green blazer where he wiped it away before replacing his arms across his chest. The set of his jaw and his tense, muscled arms would have been enough deterrent for anyone to continue their solicitation. That is, anyone other than the overly enthusiastic blonde in the booth across from him. But she was a (rather uninhibited) woman on a (completely ridiculous) mission and was not prepared to take no for an answer.

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

Her deceptively small fist slammed against the table, causing the silverware to jump, effectively startling herself and jumping right along with the silverware. She quickly recovered and continued her pitch.

"This is exactly what you two need to get the fire going again!"

Warm blood began to flush under Mamoru's stoic face as if she had literally stoked the fire she spoke of. He pinched the bridge of his nose and willed his composure to stay intact. But he seemed to have a headache coming on. A headache in the form of a shrill voice tied up in a red bow.

"Look, Minako. We've only had our memories back for, what, a few weeks? What Odango–" He cleared his throat and corrected himself. "What Usagi and I need is just a little time. Not some elaborate scheme crafted by her conspiratorial friends."

Mamoru flashed her a pointed look. The look that said "I'm already in a bad mood and you're pissing me off, so leave me alone." The look that made people tremble before him and flee in the opposite direction. The look that was 62% of the reason Mamoru could count all of his friends on one hand. It always worked.

It did not work.

Minako continued, unphased.

"You know what they say: 'The early bird never catches a cold!' Anyway, it's too late to back out now. I've already paid the deposit. It's really going to be so lovely. The fridge will be fully stocked, and there are tons of amenities, like…"

Mamoru rolled his eyes, cobalt blue stretching all the way to the ceiling, ignoring her ramblings as best as he could.

This idea was absurd. Absolutely ludicrous. Stupid and half baked and unecessary. Not to mention wildly inappropriate. Usagi and he did not need a romantic getaway in the snow capped mountains to rekindle their love. (Especially not one with all her friends watching them from around every corner.) The connection they shared was deep and true. It resonated within his very bones every time they were in the same room together. It crept up his spine and tingled down his fingers, willing him to touch her. He had felt it countless times inexplicably pulling him to her in battle before he even knew the identity of Sailor Moon. In fact, it was present from that very first day when she threw a crumpled test paper at his head and he was immediately under her spell, unable to resist teasing her and discovering creative, little ways to become a part of her life. Before he even knew what it was, the connection was there.

But then everything changed. They regained their memories of their past lives: Prince Endymion of the Earth and Princess Serenity of the Moon. The star-crossed lovers, destined for tragedy. History had almost repeated itself when he laid with his head in her lap, moments from death, her fingertips on his face as soft as the white silk of her gown. He saw who she truly was, he recognized her, and he remembered. And apparently, she had too.

It was their love that caused Usagi to weep over his fallen frame. Usagi's tears saved Mamoru's life and preserved his soul as he was forced to act as Endymion, the right-hand man of the evil Queen Beryl. And it was their love that rescued his soul and restored him to Mamoru–that returned him to her.

But then…all of that was over. And life went back to the mundane grinding of the mill, each minute of the clock passing with no hint of the extraordinary. No more foes to fight, no evil to vanquish. Though nothing had changed around them, they were changed forever. And Mamoru found himself with an instant girlfriend (sort of) and the intense love of thousands of years (definitely) and… it was a lot, to say the least. And, if he were completely honest, it was a bit awkward. Sure, they were Endymion and Serenity, but they were Mamoru and Usagi, too. That part hadn't changed. And, of course, he had been attracted to her for a long time before he regained his memories. But they had never really talked about it. They had gone from almost enemies to soulmates practically overnight and he was still reeling. He wasn't exactly sure where he stood at the moment, let alone what Usagi was thinking.

"...meeting here tomorrow at eight am and you can drive your car to the cabin–"

That brought him back.

"I'm sorry, I can what?"

Minako rolled her eyes and flipped her long hair over her shoulder as if it should have been obvious.

"You're the only one of us with a car, so you'll have to drive."

The headache was increasing. He rubbed his temples.

"I can't fit six people in my car."

"Were you listening to me at all?"

Mamoru shot her another look that said "obviously not, you airhead."

She rolled her eyes and explained for the second time. "The rest of us are 'backing out' at the last minute." She made air quotes with her fingers and offered an annoying wink. "It'll just be the two of you."

She had to be kidding. He returned to his original argument.

"No. No way–"

"Would you relax? I know what I'm doing. Goddess of Love and all that, remember?"

Before he could even open his mouth to retort, Minako was up and headed for the door, an entirely too cheery grin beaming new waves of pain through his skull.

"Eight am!" she repeated, before stepping out into the falling snow. "Don't be late." And she disappeared with a "God, he's such a prude," trailing behind her.

Mamoru's eyes immediately darted to his best friend's behind the counter, who had been listening to the entire conversation and doing absolutely nothing to help. Motoki raised his hands in defense.

"Hey, don't look at me. I had nothing to do with it."

Whipping his scarf around his neck, Mamoru shoved away from the booth and stuffed his ever present book into the crook of his arm before making his way toward the exit, grumbling under his breath.

Motoki couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a seething "liar," muttered in his direction.

He wouldn't do this. He shouldn't do this. He couldn't do this.

He could not believe he was doing this.

Mamoru threw back a shot of espresso like it was whiskey and slammed it back down on the counter. He stared at his shoes with fixed determination as the hot liquid pooled in his stomach. It was too hot. He tugged at his collar. Did Motoki have the heat cranked all the way up or something? He raked his hands through his hair.

What was he so worried about? It was just a weekend away–two nights at the most–if they even made it that long. Usagi would probably get sick of him when she realized just how not Endymion he was and would want to come back home and never speak to him again. In fact, they may not even make it past the car ride. No doubt they would return to their usual bickering and fighting and he'd probably have to turn around after ten minutes. He was sure of it. Absolutely, positively, 100% certain.

Or.

Or it could go well. Very well.

The few kisses they had shared in this life were overwhelming. Nothing he had experienced before could even come close to the delicious sensation of her lips on his, the gentle dip of her waist beneath his hand, their bodies so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from her chest. The kind of kisses where the world dissolved around you and she was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed. No, nothing in this life could compare.

Of course, he had another life before this one. A life filled with experiences that could compare, that were arguably even more alluring, if not a little hazy in his memory. Images of stolen kisses in marble alcoves, sneaking out for moonlit escapades, dodging guardians and lying tangled in silk sheets flashed in his mind. Yes, he knew just how enjoyable things could be if they did go well.

That was even more terrifying than the first option.

But how could things go well? He wasn't Prince Endymion anymore. He was Chiba Mamoru. Boring, ordinary, stand-offish, Mamoru. Not only was he the boy who had been teasing her for the past year, but he was nowhere near regal. He wasn't raised by royalty, didn't have the refined etiquette of nobility. He had been raised in the system, in and out of families and homes until he was old enough to live on his own. His gruff exterior was only hiding a cold and lonely soul. He didn't know what it meant to love. He had never known love.

Meanwhile, Usagi was warm. She was happiness. She was the epitome of love.

How could he disappoint her?

The clink of a mug on the counter snapped him back to the present.

"You look like you could use another."

Motoki's concerned eyes surveyed him from behind the cloud of steam billowing from the new cup of espresso, flecks of green and gold flickering with concern.

"Thanks."

Mamoru threw back the second shot and sucked his teeth before slamming it back down on the counter.

"Nervous?" Motoki prodded.

"Of course not." Mamoru lied.

"Bull."

Mamoru tried his patented glare on Motoki and was met with yet another devastating failure. He must be doing it wrong–he filed away a mental note to check it in the mirror sometime.

Motoki simply chuckled and clucked his tongue.

"Well, you better pull it together, because here she comes."

Mamoru went rigid in his seat and all the color drained from his face as a brand new source of heat sent flames crawling up the length of his body.

The automatic doors slid open and two pink, knee-high, laced boots marched in Usagi. Above her boots, white tights disappeared beneath her caramel, corduroy skirt and matching pink sweater, a light dusting of snow topping off her signature odangos like powdered sugar on fresh donuts. The tip of her nose was the same rosy hue as her wind bitten cheeks and Mamoru had to stifle the urge to rub his hands creepily against her face to warm her up. He shoved them as deep into the pockets of his coat as they would go before standing and walking at a distinctly normal pace to greet her and relieve her of her bag.

"Good morning," he murmured, acutely aware of Motoki's eyes boring holes into the back of his head and the new proximity to the woman in front of him.

Did her cheeks get a little redder, or was he just imagining things?"

"Good morning," she whispered, her eyes glued to his, her lips touching ever so slightly around the words.

They just stood there for a moment, two complete idiots with nothing to say, just staring at each other. Mamoru's hands felt extremely strange and sweaty in his pockets all of a sudden. He removed them and let them hang at his sides. That felt worse. He flexed them. One hand back into the pocket.

Motoki spoke up.

"Morning, Usa," he offered a one-handed wave, his other hand busy with some hot drinks behind the counter. "You excited?"

"Huh?" Usagi's eyelashes fluttered a few times before she glanced at Motoki. "Oh, yeah! Very excited!"

She clasped her hands in front of her chest and did a little jump. Mamoru's heart leapt right along with her.

"Awesome! You two are going to have a great time."

He emerged from behind the bar and presented the two of them with piping hot to-go cups that smelled suspiciously of his famous "Matchmaker Hot Chocolate." No one moved.

"For the drive," he clarified, extending the cups again.

Again, neither made a move to grab them. Usagi stared blankly at the two cups and blinked a few more times.

"Um," she began timidly, briefly capturing her bottom lip with her teeth and causing Mamoru's breath to hitch in his throat.

"What about everyone else?" She continued to stare at the cups, not meeting either of the boys' eyes.

"They had to cancel," Mamoru stated nonchalantly. "Looks like it's just you and me."

Why was he going along with this wild plan of Minako's? Why were these words coming out of his mouth?? Why was he doing this???

Still, she stared.

"Oh."

The sound was so small and helpless and it turned Mamoru's stomach. She was obviously regretting this. She didn't want to be alone with him without her friends. This was a bad idea. Bad, bad, very bad–

"We don't have to go, if you don't want to." Why were his words speaking without his brain's approval again? Wait, did he actually want to do this thing??

At that her head snapped up.

"What? Oh, you don't want to go?"

Mamoru shook his head furiously.

"I didn't say that. I just meant, if you don't want to you, we don't have–"

"Well if it makes you uncomfortable, then we can just–"

"I'm not uncomfortable, I just don't want you to be uncomforta–"

"Because I understand, it's kind of weird, and like–"

"Not weird! Definitely not weird! I'm totally fine with–"

"Are you sure? Because it really is okay if–"

"OKAY!" Motoki (praise God) cut off their idiotic bumblings and placed the cups in a cardboard carrier. "Sounds like everyone is comfortable and fine and ready to go on this trip!" He turned to Mamoru and clapped an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you take her bag for her?"

"Right!"

The bag in question was still dangling from Usagi's shoulder and Mamoru cursed himself for not taking it from her already.

"And Usagi, you take the drinks."

"Right!"

She clasped them in her mittened hands.

"And you two go have fun!"

Motoki practically shoved the pair of them out the door before collapsing against the counter with a sigh.

Ever since the Senshi rescued Motoki after Dark Endymion had bewitched him, he had been entirely too close with those girls and Mamoru did not care for it one bit.

Mamoru absolutely hated driving in the snow. Detested it. Visibility was limited and the roads were treacherous. It was a recipe for an accident. And it was extremely difficult to focus on the road with Usagi breathing like that. She was just sitting there, looking gorgeous, and not saying anything, and just breathing with her chest rising and falling and making her golden hair catch the light and Mamoru was absolutely livid. How dare her mere existence be such a distraction? It was inhuman and most likely intentional. Malicious. If she continued breathing like that, they were going to crash long before they ever reached the cabin.

In desperation, Mamoru reached for the dial of the radio and cursed when he was met with a jolt. A literal shock of electricity sparked between his skin and Usagi's, no doubt from the dry, winter air, and she let out a miniature wail.

"Dammit!"

"Ouch! You shocked me!"

Usagi shook out her tender finger and then brought it to her mouth. Mamoru's eyes followed.

"Oh my gosh, watch the road!"

She lunged for the steering wheel and Mamoru's precious Alfa Romeo SZ narrowly avoided becoming scrap metal in the frozen snowbank. He knew this was a bad idea.

"Sorry!" he shouted, still dazed by the feeling of her hands on his seconds before and the lingering anger of her enticing presence. "Er, sorry. I'm sorry."

Mamoru's knuckles paled as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, determined to arrive at the cabin in one piece and not be further distracted by the blonde beauty in the passenger seat.

"It's okay," she laughed quietly. "I guess we're both a little nervous today."

"Oh, I'm not nervous." Idiot. Why did he lie to her?

"Oh."

Definitely a mistake.

"Why don't you turn on the radio?" he offered. She had been reaching for it anyway, right?

"Okay."

Damn. Another one-word.

Usagi clicked on the radio and the dreamy, classical notes of Mamoru's favorite station filled the awkward silence between them. He took a deep breath, allowing Debussy's "Reverie" to fill his lungs and sooth his nerves. With this ethereal soundtrack, the falling snow outside the window became slightly less menacing and took on a subtle, almost magical sheen. It almost looked peaceful. Almost.

So he slipped up. But just a little. He could still recover. And with Debussy as his wing man, (much preferred to Motoki,) he might actually–

"Ew."

Usagi wrinkled her nose as she changed the station to some whiny american pop song on the Top 40 channel, also known as the one single station Mamoru's radio had never before been forced to sound.

"Oh, I love this song!" she crooned, before joining along with the nasally singer attacking Mamoru's eardrums.

His molars ground together. She really was still just Usagi. Silly, immature, unrefined Usagi. And he was Mamoru. Boring, bitter Mamoru. And they had nothing in common. Well, nothing besides a shared romance for the ages in a past life and a battle against evil in this one and a destiny in the next that neither could escape. But did that really dictate the here and now? Should they really be together just because they were "supposed to?" If they didn't even like each other?

He dared another glance at her out of the corner of his eye.

Usagi was playing with the foggy window, drawing patterns in the condensation as she sang the wrong words to the song playing on the radio, seemingly unaware of Mamoru's gaze. She would create a little doodle–a cat, a crescent moon, a heart–before blowing over the image with her warm breath to erase it and start again. He watched, hyper aware, his heart thrumming so loudly in his ears that he almost couldn't hear the song anymore, as her dainty finger began to trace delicate lines of hiragana on the window.

Ma…mo…chan

And as quickly as it appeared, it vanished beneath another breath.

He turned his eyes back to the road, praying to whatever god would answer that Usagi would not choose that particular moment to look at him and see just how brightly his cheeks were burning.

"Are we there yet?"

"If we were there, you would know."

"Well, are we almost there?"

"I think so. This looks like the turnoff, actually."

Usagi fidgeted in her pink boots, fast food wrappers and empty cups of hot chocolate bouncing around them.

Mamoru had been following the shoddy instructions Mina scribbled on a wrinkled napkin. Neither he nor Usagi was familiar with this area. They had already passed the major ski resort a few miles back and were now traversing the hairpin turns of mountain roads as they climbed higher and higher with each passing minute. Impenetrable walls of snow laden trees lined the street and promised certain death should he deviate from the road. The only breaks in the forest were the occasional path to a private residence or vacation rental, and those were growing fewer and farther between. Any trace of a town lay miles behind and hundreds of feet below.

After what seemed like an eternity (after the radio lost signal), Mamoru finally spotted the wooden post marked "Suisen Lane" and followed the path a little ways through the woods. Usagi was practically trembling, her hands and face pressed to the window as she stared out at the wooded mountain. Soon, the trees gave way to a clearing and Mamoru's eyes grew wide while Usagi gasped beside him.

Nestled within the clearing was a charming log cabin, complete with a porch, green painted shutters, and a chimney. The entire meadow was hushed in a thick blanket of downy snow that sparkled like diamonds as it reflected the afternoon sun. Beyond the cabin and slightly to the west, the land sloped downward, hinting at the existence of a private pond. The whole scene was set against a backdrop of frosted evergreen trees, the contrasting image serving as a protective yet foreboding barrier, blocking out the rest of the world from ever reaching their perfect, little sanctuary.

"It's so cute!" Usagi chirped as Mamoru pulled the car up to the porch.

"It really is," he assented. But at the present moment, he was mostly grateful that whoever serviced this cabin had the forethought to clear the road before they arrived since his Alfa Romeo wasn't exactly an all terrain vehicle. And of course they would, with how much money this had obviously cost Minako.

As soon as Mamoru parked the car, Usagi was out. She dashed into the snow like a rabbit, kicking up little clouds of powder as she ran, gleeful squeals and giggles echoing around them in the enclosed meadow. Gleaming ribbons of hair encircled her as she danced and played in the snow.

Mamoru was transfixed.

He stood there like an idiot at the trunk of his car, one bag already flung over his shoulder and the other frozen, dangling from his hand halfway between the trunk and his other shoulder. One corner of his open mouth tugged up as he watched Usagi fall backward into the snow, wriggling her arms and legs as she created the sorriest excuse for a snow angel that he had ever seen. She looked so beautiful like that, splayed out across the pearlescent white, a carefree smile beaming from her flushed face. It almost made him want to play in the snow too. But he knew better. And Usagi was about to learn, too.

A shriek tore across the meadow and Usagi sprang to her feet and began running around in circles, swiping furiously at her behind.

"It's cold!" she wailed. "MY BUTT IS COLD!!!"

Mamoru couldn't help but laugh. Not that he was trying very hard.

"Of course it's cold," he called over her frantic squeaks, "it's snow."

She rushed to his side and glued herself to his arm as if trying to extract all his body heat from this single appendage. But Mamoru felt as though all the heat in his body had rushed to his face (and somewhere else) when he realized his arm was held captive between Usagi's breasts, his fingers brushing against the inside of her shivering thigh. And yet she was somehow completely oblivious. The menace.

"I thought people played in snow all the time," she whined, unabashedly nuzzling her freezing nose against his sleeve.

"Well, most people put on jackets first. And pants."

Usagi's eyes shot open and she leapt back, putting as much space as possible between them with one step. Mamoru felt instantly cold.

"I should, um," Usagi swallowed hard. "I should go change into something dry."

With timid steps, she retrieved her bag from Mamoru's shoulder and ran the short distance to the cabin where she hopped up the steps and attempted to open the door to no avail. She laid her head against the heavy door with a gentle thud.

Mamoru shut the trunk and closed the distance in a few strides as he tried (not very hard) to suppress a dark chuckle. The sound caught Usagi by surprise and she lurched, slamming her head into the door with more force this time. Her bag fell from her hands as she moaned and cupped her latest injury, eliciting yet another laugh from Mamoru.

"Don't laugh!" she wailed. "It hurts."

He cleared his throat and attempted to compose himself.

"Sorry." It was mostly genuine.

With one long arm, he reached around Usagi for the keybox, noting how she stiffened at the proximity. What did she want? A minute ago, she was clutching at his arm with no regard for personal space, and now she was uncomfortable being within a few inches of him. Odango-Atama had always been a mystery and now, even after learning her true identity as both Sailor Moon and the Moon Princess, that aspect of their relationship had not changed.

"Sorry," he muttered again, jamming the key into the lock and pushing open the door.

He let her enter first, then retrieved her bag and followed her in.

It was…quaint. Wood paneling spanned the walls adorned with paintings of birds and forest scenes. Antique floor lamps provided the only light in the small space, but the fireplace nestled in the far wall was real and would certainly fill the space with its warm glow. A dated rug and green plaid couch sat opposite and a matching armchair rested in the corner. To the right was the linoleum-floored kitchen and to the left was the bedroom suite. The couple dared to check the bedroom, the same thought bouncing wildly against the walls of both their skulls, the same blush flaring beneath both their faces.

There was only one bed.

What the hell was Minako thinking?? Mamoru's brain was screaming at him, writhing around in its own cerebral goo as it fought to flee the situation. He couldn't share a bed with Usagi! They weren't married! They weren't even a couple! Well, maybe they were. He didn't actually know. But either way this was way too early in their relationship for any indecent bed sharing that could lead to kissing or touching or–

"Well."

Mamoru started at the timid squeak beside him.

"This is…cozy, isn't it?"

He stared at the tiny woman, marveling at her bravery. How could she manage to make small talk under the circumstances?

"Uh…yeah," he assented. "It is cozy."

Usagi shivered, still damp from her naive snow adventures. The formidable silence returned and his palms began to sweat, the luggage starting to feel heavy. He ventured into the room and placed Usagi's bag on the bed. Without turning, he spoke again.

"You can take this room. I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

He heard a small gasp behind him.

"Oh, okay. If that's what you want."

He plastered a smile on his face and turned around. "Trust me, you'll be much more comfortable here."

Usagi's eyes were shining with indiscernible emotion. Perhaps she was moved by his chivalry? Not likely. More likely, he had probably screwed up again somehow. Did she want to share the bed? Certainly not. But…even if that were the case…now he had gone and blown it by basically rejecting her. Not that he would have accepted such an offer.

Usagi mirrored his phony smile, the sparkle of genuinity lacking from her eyes. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."

Translation: Way to go, idiot.

"I'll just step out while you get changed."

Quickly and without meeting her eyes again, Mamoru stalked past Usagi and closed the door behind him. Then he fell to the couch, catching his head in his hands. His initial survey of the cabin determined there was no television, no video games, no computer. There had been a handful of books and board games in the bedroom, but he doubted Usagi would care to partake in either of those activities. Not to mention the fact that the nearest restaurant was probably an hour away. At least.

His legs jittered with nervous energy. He stood and crossed to the window, peeking out the blinds, and his eyes nearly jumped out of his skull. Along the back wall of the cabin was a second porch that supported a hot tub. He hadn't been told to bring a bathing suit. Usagi probably wasn't told, either. Maybe Minako didn't know about the hot tub? Who was he kidding, of course she knew. Minako truly was evil. He swallowed, then swallowed again.

Forcing his gaze away from the hot tub and his thoughts away from the sorts of things that happen inside of hot tubs when one doesn't have a bathing suit, he assessed the rest of the property. His previous assumption was correct: there was a small pond at the base of the hill. It appeared to be completely frozen over, the late sun reflected in a hazy, silver glow. He hadn't brought ice skates, either. Not that it was a good idea for Usagi to engage in a physical activity like that, especially one that involved razor sharp blades attached to her clumsy feet. How on earth were they going to spend an entire weekend trapped in this cabin together?

Maybe they could…talk? About all of it? About how he had been crushing on her since forever, about how everything that happened over the course of the past year just made those feelings stronger, about how he almost died for her (twice) and would gladly do so again, about how they were Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask, about how they were Serenity and Endymion, about how confusing all of this was, about how he couldn't be sure if these feelings were real or not, about how kissing her was the most incredible thing in the world and oh, by the way, could we please do that again and a lot of it?

Yeah, probably not.