"I'm ready!"

The melodious call came from the bedroom doorway and Mamoru turned his head at the sound.

Just what exactly Usagi was ready for, he could not tell, but it was certainly not any outdoor activity. She wore a cream-colored sweater dress that clung to her body in all the right ways and was even shorter than the (amazing,) poor excuse for a skirt she had been wearing earlier. Seriously, the dress rivaled her fuku in terms of leaving little to the imagination. He had to force his eyes back up to her face, away from her endless legs and tantalizing curves. She was smiling at him again, truly smiling, that glimmer of honesty returned to her sky blue eyes. Whatever it was she was ready to do, he would agree to anything in a heartbeat.

"Let's go get something to eat!"

Except that.

"Erm, there really aren't any restaurants nearby," he murmured, deflating with her visible disappointment. But there was no way he was going to drive an hour back down the mountain beneath the ominous clouds that were currently rolling up the landscape.

"Oh, well…" She tugged at the hem of her dress as if she could magically make it cover more of the skin she had decided to reveal to him. "Maybe we could have something delivered?"

Mamoru repressed the urge to roll his eyes. "I doubt we will find a restaurant that delivers all the way up here."

She huffed, her cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink as she flapped her arms in exasperation. "Well then, what do you suggest we do? Starve to death?"

Her dramatics tugged at the corner of his mouth and he bit his lip to keep from snickering.

"Relax, no one is going to starve."

Mamoru rose from lounging on the couch and made his way to the adjoining kitchen. With one swift tug of the refrigerator door, he confirmed what Minako had told him yesterday afternoon at the Crown: fully stocked with enough food to get through the weekend–and then some. He began rifling through the drawers, taking a quick inventory as he selected the ingredients he would need and gathered them in one arm. Satisfied with his haul, he placed the produce on the counter and turned back to Usagi with commanding authority.

"We're going to cook," he declared. "Together."

Usagi blanched, her skin turning whiter than her dress.

"Ah, no. I don't think that's a good idea," she giggled nervously, her hands waving in front of her in objection.

"Why not?" he goaded, already sure of the answer.

"If you think I'm bad with grades, you should see me with knives." He could practically see the sweat beginning to condense on her forehead.

While he had no intention of actually forcing her to help him cook, he always did thoroughly enjoy watching her squirm. Especially the way she squirmed in that dress.

Mamoru took his time locating the tools he would need: knife, cutting board, pan. Once he had gathered everything, he decided to let Usagi off the hook. He unwrapped a bundle of bok choy and began washing it in the sink, peeking at her from beneath his lashes.

"Alright then, let's make a deal," he offered.

She bounded over, excitedly propping her elbows against the breakfast bar, her chin resting in her hands. Her bubblegum pink nails matched her perfect, pouty lips.

"Sure! Anything! So long as I don't have to cook!"

It was difficult not to return her brilliant smile with one of his own, but somehow he managed. He directed his focus to peeling the carrots, even when she made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat at his choice of vegetable.

Anything? Mamoru took a moment to rein in his wild imagination and the accompanying blush. It was much too soon for any of the unruly ideas frollicking about in the seedy alleyways of his mind. Though, there was no telling how she would interpret his suggestion.

"I'll cook, but you have to entertain me."

An audible gulp sounded from Usagi.

"Entertain you? Like, how?" she fumbled, tugging at her (offensively high) turtleneck collar.

That chuckle that was fast becoming familiar tickled up Mamoru's throat again and he covered it with an awkward cough.

"I would suggest you dance, but that may be a bit precarious given the dress you're wearing."

Mamoru dared a peek at Usagi and was not disappointed. The flush of her cheeks was redder than the bottle of gochujang on the counter beside him and her hands had disappeared beneath the bar, no doubt tugging at the hem of her too-short dress once again. That was either the best or worst thing he had ever said.

Her eyes were fixed on the counter when she answered him, her voice low and heated.

"If you don't like it, I can change."

"Oh, please don't!" The words shot out of him before they registered in his brain and her giant, confused eyes met his. "Uh, I mean, you look great."

Her eyebrows knit together. "Thanks," she uttered unconvincingly.

Shit. Back to the one-words.

Mamoru and Usagi had always danced a fine line between teasing and fighting, hating and loving. Like a tango he would step forward, a rude comment turning her about, and she would return with her own, matching his steps. Back and forth, apart and together again, a sharp turn. She would light up when he instigated and he would smirk as he reveled in her fire, whatever was boiling inside both of them fueling their movements.

But now, that line had shifted, the music changed and he didn't know the steps. Each little taunt he had issued resulted in her embarrassment and those gut-twisting, one-word answers. He missed the way her nose wrinkled in irritation, her little tongue jutting out at him indignantly. But he also loved her breathless voice when he got too close but he also loved how her voice grew breathless when got too close, the rosy color blossomed on her cheeks when he called her by her real name.

Obviously, their relationship had changed. And if he was going to have any chance of success, (for what, he wasn't sure,) then he was going to have to learn the steps. How to lead with gentleness and strength, how to make her feel comfortable and safe. And he was going to have to actually use that word filter that existed somewhere in the dark recesses of his brain.

Maybe a slower pace; a waltz. He tried again. "You look beautiful." But he didn't dare risk another glance at her, instead keeping his eyes glued to the produce he was chopping.

"Thank you."

It was almost a whisper, but at least it was two words! Maybe he could do this after all. It didn't seem to be–

"What do you call a fish with no eyes?"

Mamoru perked up. Certainly a strange question to be coming from Usagi, but it did jog his memory of an article he had read just the other day. Did she have the same scientific journal subscription that he did? He hadn't taken Usagi for a science enthusiast, but he jumped at the opportunity to discuss common ground.

"Are you talking about the Blind Cave Tetra in Mexico? That really is fascinating. Apparently the skull deformity causes increased sensitivity and they are actually able to get around by–"

"Mamoru."

Her use of his full name halted the words in his mouth and his heart almost jumped out of his chest. When he met her gaze, he found no comprehension of what he was saying. Just a sly grin and an exaggerated wink.

"What do you call a fish with no eyes?" she repeated.

"Uh, what?"

"A fsh."

Her grin broke into a full on smile as she waited expectantly.

"Oh. That was a joke." His face blank as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard.

"Yes, it was." She looked at him sideways.

"It was funny," is what his brain decided to say.

"Are you sure about that?" She rested her chin in her hands again.

Mamoru went back to chopping vegetables, Usagi giggling behind him, all the while hoping the heat he was feeling in his face wasn't visible to her.

"Yes, it just caught me by surprise. That's all." He filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil.

"You told me to entertain you."

"I did say that." Though, he was beginning to regret it (a little.)

"What do you call a dog with no legs?"

Mamoru blinkled at her blankly, awaiting the answer.

"Doesn't matter what you call him, he won't come anyway." She beamed.

"What the hell, Usagi." He tossed the veg into the pan.

She threw her arms in the air and they fell back against her bare thighs with a slap.

"What do you want from me?"

The smirk forming on his lips betrayed him.

"How about a joke somewhere in between horribly corny and horrifically morbid?"

Mamoru retrieved a package of udon from the cabinet as Usagi huffed in frustration, folding her arms tightly across her (very accentuated) breasts.

"Fine," she snapped. "What's brown and sticky?"

"What?" He took the bait, crossing his own arms over his chest, mirroring her endearing irritation.

Hard eyes held his and she answered without even a hint of a smile. "A stick."

He could no longer maintain the facade. Something about that ridiculous answer coming from such a stern expression on his little snow angel had him doubled over, howling in unchecked laughter that bounced off the walls in the small space.

"Really? That's the one that makes you laugh?"

Mamoru struggled for air, his lungs screaming at him for this absurd behavior. Just as his vision was beginning to tunnel, he finally caught his breath. The oxygen returned to his brain and he was able to stand upright. And there she was, still on the other side of the counter, watching him with an unabashed grin between her rosy cheeks.

"No, Oda–Usagi. You make me laugh."

Her face screwed up into the adorable pout previously reserved for their verbal dance. He was glad to see there was still a place for it somewhere in the new rhythm.

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," she whined.

Mamoru crossed the short kitchen in one step and placed his hand on top of one of hers resting on the counter. A thrill threaded through him at the touch, stitching through his bones and curling his fingers around her hand.

"Trust me, it is."

Not many people could make Mamoru laugh. At least, not a real belly laugh like that. And it wasn't just that she was funny, but that he felt at ease around her, like he didn't have to pretend. Most of the pieces that made up Mamoru he kept to himself, only taking them out when he was truly alone and there was no risk of damage. But Usagi was beginning to pull those pieces out into the light. And he was starting to see that maybe, just maybe, that wasn't so scary after all.

They stood that way for a moment, smiling warmly at each other, until the sound of boiling water reminded Mamoru what he was doing. Begrudgingly, he pulled away and returned to the dinner, dropping the udon in the pot and heating up his pan for the vegetables. Time for another joke.

"Alright, let's go again," he encouraged.

"That's what she said."

"Usagi!" His head snapped up in shock before shaking in mock disappointment. "I never expected something like that to come from you."

Her mouth split into a toothy grin. "That's what she said."

"Oh, dear God," he groaned, slightly mortified to find his body reacting to her lewd jokes.

She jumped up and down, an excited finger pointing at him. "That's what she said!"

Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose in feigned annoyance. "I can't believe I asked for this," he murmured.

"That's what–"

"No!"

He had flown to her side, one hand clasped over her mouth, the other pressed against the small of her back, holding her close. Her stomach was flush with his hips, her breasts heaving against his chest. She was warm, so warm that her heat flooded his body and set him ablaze, a flame creeping beneath every inch of his skin. Her eyes were dancing with mischief as he became painfully aware of just how close her nose was to his own. Millimeters. If he wanted to, he could lean forward, just infinitesimally, and brush the tip of his nose against hers. Instead, his hand left her mouth and settled beneath her jaw, stroking her chin ever so gently with his thumb. The movement was easy, natural, and it would be just as easy to capture her lips with his.

And infinitely more difficult.

"Please. No more," he begged, incapable of suppressing his smile.

Her chest heaved up and down a few more times, eyes flitting back and forth between each of his before she answered him.

"Okay," she breathed.

Just as quickly, he released her and returned to the stove, stirring the neglected vegetables.

"Now," he said, "it's almost time to eat. Why don't you find us some bowls?"

"You know, I used to think you had a crush on Motoki."

Water sprayed from Usagi's lips, leaving little, wet dots on her chest, and she scrambled to tidy herself with a napkin before what little modesty she had left melted away. Priceless.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, now intently focused on her stir-fry, udon slipping from her chopsticks as they refused to behave properly.

"Motoki-oniiiiiiii-san!" Mamoru mimicked in his best, most ridiculous falsetto, cupping his face with his hands and batting his eyelashes at Usagi perched on the stool beside him.

She gave his arm a playful smack on the arm. "Oh, shut up!"

"Tell you what," he said around a mouthful, "I'll let it go if you admit it."

Usagi lifted a carrot from her bowl and dropped it into Mamoru's. Another carrot followed and then another. Okay, hint taken: no more carrots.

"Fine, I admit it," she snapped, glaring at her portion while Mamoru sniggered, triumph and jealousy surging through him in tandem. "But, to be fair, everyone likes Motoki at first."

He snorted. "Even Rei?"

"Rei doesn't like anyone."

"True." Mamoru popped one of Usagi's carrots into his mouth. The spiciness of the gochujang was the perfect complement for the carrot's natural sweetness. Delicious. She was crazy.

"Which is honestly a good thing," Usagi continued, "because I was pretty into her when I first met her."

The carrot lodged itself in Mamoru's throat. He gasped for air, frantic and sputtering, his eyes watering. No air was entering his lungs. It wouldn't budge one way or the other. He couldn't even cough.

Mamoru was choking. Really choking.

"You okay?" Usagi eyed him nervously, one hand poised above his back as if debating whether or not to prevent his death.

Memories flashed before his eyes, images from this life and the last. Darkness was closing in. This was the end. If the carrot didn't kill him, then the image of Usagi and Rei together would certainly finish him off.

In desperation, (and receiving no help from the literal superhero beside him,) Mamoru flung himself against the bar, the counter slamming into his abdomen. Again. Again. Finally, the force dislodged the carrot, which flew across the miniature kitchen, striking the window before falling into the sink with a plink. He gasped and coughed, regaining the use of his faculties and thanking the universe that his life hadn't ended for a third time–a most undignified death in this godforsaken cabin while Usagi watched uselessly from the sidelines in the world's most infuriating dress.

Definitely no more carrots.

"I'm fine," he rasped, downing his water and then shoving his messed hair out of his face. "But the next time someone is choking, you might want to help them not die."

"I don't know how to do things!" Usagi defended.

"Not true, Sailor Moon," Mamoru objected, standing, taking his bowl to the kitchen, and dumping its contents in the sink. He had suddenly lost his appetite.

"What, you wanted me to jam my Moon Rod down there?"

This time, he did roll his eyes, suppressing the urge to retaliate with his own 'that's what she said.' She was rubbing off on him. And not in a good way.

"Not the point. Can we get back to you and Rei?"

"Hey, you said you would drop it!" Usagi held out her bowl to him from behind the counter. It was empty except for the offending carrots. He snatched it from her hands and the carrots quickly met their demise down the disposal.

"I said I would drop the Motoki issue." He rinsed the bowls and set them to dry, not exactly sure if he was teasing or not. "Your attraction to Rei is an entirely different matter."

"Is it really that hard to believe?" Mamoru began dutifully scrubbing the pans while Usagi explained. "I mean, she's totally gorgeous. All dark and mysterious. Plays hard to get. And those eyes!" She groaned. "Of course, all that vanished the second she opened her mouth."

Usagi chuckled and then fell silent. Mamoru could feel her eyes on him, (he always could,) and goosebumps erupted along the back of his neck. When she spoke again, her voice was much deeper.

"Maybe I have a type."

Mamoru stiffened and whirled around. Foamy dishwater dripped from the pot in his hand and fell unnoticed against his socked feet. He stared in wonder at the half grin nestled into her cheek. When did she get so…bold?

"Hey…are you done with that?" Usagi joined him in the kitchen, lifting the pot from his immobile hands and placing it on the drying mat. "I was thinking it would be fun to try out the hot tub."

With steady hands, she found his, still suspended in the air, and wound her fingers through his own, tugging gently and leading him out of the kitchen. He followed blindly for a moment, overwhelmingly entranced by this angel in white, his heart beating like a subwoofer careening down the highway. The fire from being so close to her before dinner had yet to die out and was flaring up again, the embers rekindled by her delicate touch. Her body swayed deliciously as she slinked backward, that tantalizing dress hugging her hips as they wandered in the direction of the bedroom.

How had he gotten here? A year ago, he had been a lonely teenager finding his own way. How surprised he had been when it found him, instead. Quite literally. Princess Serenity, he now knew, had appeared in his dreams, guiding his fate and leading him to the Silver Crystal. Along the way, he found Usagi. He found purpose, he found meaning. He found himself.

And now, that lonely boy was holed up in a secluded cabin with his literal dream girl. And she was walking him to a bedroom. A bedroom where, at the very least, he was going to be expected to take off his clothes and put on a bathing suit. A bathing suit that did not exist.

Reality began to sink in as Mamoru realized just how deep in over his head he truly was.

He froze in his tracks and the smile disappeared from Usagi's face. "Um, Usagi…actually, I didn't pack a swimsuit. I'm sorry."

"Oh." Her smile quickly returned, brighter than before, sunshine tearing through the clouds. "That's okay, you can just wear your boxers or whatever."

"What?"

Gone again. She dropped his hands. Had he said that out loud?

"Erm, unless you don't want to. Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking." She pulled one blonde ponytail into her hands and began smoothing it anxiously through her fingers.

How to salvage the situation? He was scrambling.

"Uh, no! That's okay! I'll just…put my feet in."

Hair slid from her fingers and fell back to her side.

"You sure?" Her teeth captured her lower lip and Mamoru was absolutely, one hundred percent sure he would do anything she asked. For real, this time.

"Yes."

The weather suddenly shifted again, the sun reappearing on her features.

"Okay! Then I'll get changed!"

"Aw, don't ever change."

Thick, black lashes fluttered back at him.

"Was that…was that a joke?"

"Yes."

"Nice."

At first, Mamoru couldn't remember why he had agreed to subject himself to this torture. It was a strange feeling, having the lower half of your body wonderfully warm and the upper half frozen rigid. He was balanced on the edge of the hot tub, his jeans rolled up to his knees and his feet in the water. His thick, black coat did little to protect himself from the frigid, winter air, and he buried his hands in his pockets to prevent the loss of his fingers. He really hated the cold. Really, truly.

But the water was nice, warming him from the inside out. And then he saw Usagi. And he forgot about the torture altogether. By no means did the bubbling pool hide Usagi's glorious body or the way it was poured into her bathing suit. Pink flowers danced on the fabric beneath the glimmering waves and Mamoru struggled to keep his eyes where they belonged. The sun had long since set, the mountaintops meeting it halfway in its descent across the sky, and the moonlight shimmered in Usagi's golden strands that floated lazily on the surface. How he longed to reach out and touch her hair, to run one finger along the silky length like a freaking weirdo. She was a vision. It was easy to see how she had once been the goddess of the moon.

The beauty before him sighed and her head rolled back to rest against the cushion.

"This is perfect," she whispered, eyes closed.

"Is it?" His eyes still trailed the patterns her hair made as it flowed with the water.

"Mhmm. You're really missing out."

"I'm doing just fine," he appraised. Truthfully, he was feeling rather lucky at the moment, regardless of the tense grip his anxiety currently had on his heart.

Usagi opened her eyes and flashed him a wicked grin.

"No…I don't think you are."

"What do you m–"

With inhuman speed, Usagi lunged for Mamoru, catching his arm with both hands and mercilessly yanking him headfirst into the water. It splashed around them, eliciting squeals and giggles from Usagi that he could hear even as the water filled his ears. He emerged as quickly as he sank, wiping the water from his eyes and forcing back his dripping hair.

"Are you insane?" he shouted, his voice too loud and too sharp.

Usagi's merriment immediately ceased and she stared at him, shocked, as he continued to fume.

"If I had wanted to get in, I would have! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be in wet clothing in these temperatures?"

Reaching for his hand, she attempted an apology. "Mamoru…I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"

He jerked his hand away from her touch and climbed out of the hot tub. "And now my coat is soaked, too." He was shivering from the cold and the unbridled anger that had seemingly erupted from nowhere. "Who knows how long that is going to take to dry." He shrugged it from his shoulders and wrung it out as best he could, water splattering against the wood planks of the deck in jarring slaps.

Usagi tried again. "Mamo–"

"I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

Mamoru stalked inside, dripping and dragging his saturated coat behind him, leaving Usagi alone in the hot tub.

The click of the door as he closed it punctuated just how royally he had screwed up. He was the biggest fool on the planet. Once again, he had sequestered himself on the inside, quite literally shutting Usagi out.

His feet dragged him toward the bathroom and he cursed every puddle they left in the carpet. Then he stripped down, his trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, and left his drenched clothing in a soggy heap on the bathroom floor to be dealt with later. A steamy, mind-clearing shower was exactly what he needed to shake off the funk and extrapolate just why he had exploded at Usagi like some common neanderthal.

He stepped under the stream, the hot water flowing over his tense muscles, warming and relaxing them. His wet, black strands clung to his forehead as he lifted his chin, allowing the water to run down his face and slide along the grooves of his neck, his chest, all the way down to the tiles.

So much of Mamoru's life had been ruled by fear. As a child, he feared rejection, more comfortable in the loneliness left by his parents' death than the possible loss of anyone else. When he grew older, his fears took on the form of self doubt, unsure of who he really was and if he would ever find his own place in this world. Fear that he would never find the Silver Crystal and who was calling to him in his dreams. And when Sailor Moon–Usagi–suddenly came into his life, he feared for her safety. Which, if he was entirely honest with himself, was another selfish fear; he was afraid to lose her. In the end, it all circled back to those lonely days as a six year old boy spent in the hospital, learning his name and that the only people in the world he belonged to were gone and he couldn't even remember them.

He wanted to belong to someone.

And that little piece of himself was so delicate and fragile that he would shatter if you breathed on it too hard. It was the piece he most fiercely protected and the piece that had the greatest influence over his life. That was why every time she got close, he pushed her away. Offering it up to Usagi was stripping himself bare, begging him to accept her, and praying she wouldn't throw his broken pieces into the trash where perhaps they belonged. What would he do if he ever lost Usagi?

Mamoru raked his hands down his face.

How dense could he be? If there was any one person on the Earth that could love and accept him, it was Usagi. And not just because of their shared past as Serenity and Endymion, but because of who she was now. Though her kindness was apparent to everyone that met her, what many failed to see was Usagi's wisdom. She saw beyond faults to the true essence of a person and offered friendship even to those who had threatened her life. Each time she had seen a piece of who Mamoru truly was, she had held it up and admired it, allowing her own glow to illuminate it and smooth its jagged edges. And wasn't that what he wanted?

Wasn't Usagi worth the risk?

Yes. Yes, she was. Why else would he have agreed to any of this?

The water began to run cold. Mamoru was so busy wallowing in his own self-loathing that he had lost track of time. But the cool water was invigorating and the anticipation was quickly building in his stomach. His mind was made up. He washed himself quickly, taking care to clean every crevasse of his body. He was going to march out of that bathroom, (get dressed), grab Usagi by those ridiculous pigtails and kiss her while they were both fully conscious for once.

He shut off the water and found the towel hanging outside the shower. Wrapping it around his waist, he pushed aside the curtain and stepped out to an oddly empty bathroom. His wet clothes were gone, no trace of them ever having been there. He opened the door and peeked around the corners, first to one side and then the other. The living room was lit with a warm, orange glow, a fire crackling in the fireplace. His wet clothes, including his coat, were hanging from various hooks on a coat hanger that had been dragged to utilize the warmth of the fire. To the other side, in the bedroom, a motionless form lay in the dark under the blankets of the only bed.

He really was a fool. There was no way Usagi would forgive him for ruining this trip.

Mamoru crept into the bedroom to retrieve a dry set of clothes, eyeing the sleeping bundle on the bed. He wouldn't subject her to any more of this. She didn't deserve it.

He dressed in the bathroom before settling in on the couch as they had previously agreed. He was a fool for ever thinking it would be otherwise.

They would leave in the morning.