Mizu's AN's: Woo hoo! Got another chapter
done! Soo, it's a bit late ::dodges glares::
But I'm working on some other shtuff! Really!
::does a mizu jig:: ^^;;
Patch's AN's:
Chapter 5: Of Togas and Fans...
Disclaimer: You know the deal, no own Mamo-
chan, no own Usagi. *But* we do have exclusive
rights to the oil used on his body and the toga
he wore *Mizu & Patch grin happily*
***
Never in her twenty-four years of
experiencing agency life did Usagi feel this
skittish. Sure, she'd seen many men in a
short, skimpy pieces of translucent—
err...togas, or some sort of apparatus that was
*supposed* to hide those strategic parts, but
she never fell head over heels over a
particular model or actor. Was that it? Was
she falling in love?
Love was never a primary concern in her
busy life; sensing that her personal life would
only interfere in more important matters. If
she wanted to pursue a personal life, it would
only prove to be a distraction.
Then again, Mamoru was a distraction...
Mamoru in a toga was an even *bigger*
distraction...
Some things about Mamoru were—irk. Never
mind. This needs to be censored for younger
audiences anyway.
"It's pure physical attraction," she
compromised with that little voice in her head
that held her heart in the wellspring it called
its soul. It sighed in dissatisfaction and
obvious disappointment.
"I can get over this," she breathed in
deeply, feeling a renewed vigor to take control
of her chaotic life. "I can do this, I can—"
...and that was when Chiba Mamoru walked
right onto the production set, toga and all,
all...*that*. She sighed absentmindedly,
shaking her head of the interesting thoughts
that came to mind. He'd obviously got the hang
of the toga, this being one of the last times
he'd need to show up for the commercial shoot.
However, she could still spot him flinch ever-
so-slightly when a woman would give him a
flirtatious smile. She fixed her lips on the
edge of her coffee cup, inhaling the liquid as
if it were her life's only sustenance. Where
was that comforter, anyway?
She was too occupied with her private
thoughts to notice him stand over her shoulder.
"Morning," he said casually, stuffing his
hands into imaginary pockets, then promptly
realizing that there *were* none. In fact,
there wouldn't be enough space to sew pockets
on the outfit.
She sputtered in her coffee in response,
as Mamoru instinctively pat her back to help
relieve the stress. A concerned look appeared
in his eyes that went by unnoticed by Usagi,
who felt like she was hacking up a hairball.
The smell of aromatherapy-scents fogged
her senses, as Mamoru bent down worriedly.
"All you all right?" He peered at her level,
grasping her shoulder, still concerned for her
welfare.
She shook her head, blanching at the
position he was in. "Dear lord, Mamoru! Stand
up, will you?" She immediately shut her mouth,
wishing that she had said nothing in the first
place.
Mamoru look perplexed. He looked cute
when he was perplexed. Usagi refrained herself
from sighing audibly, but he still caught the
strange, slight, mewing sound that parted from
her petal-soft lips. He bent down lower to
Usagi's arched form. Immediately, soft giggles
and loud feminine whoops came from behind him.
"Flash that butt, pretty boy!"
"You can bend down for me, *anytime*!"
Wait a minute...the last one sounded
awfully like Minako...Usagi groaned, hiding
herself behind a stack of brown folders.
Mamoru paled, and abruptly stood stock
still, straight as a soldier. Egads, he'd have
to be careful when he bent down...
"What's the big idea?" Minako, director
and photographer supreme, snapped. Her voice
rang throughout the set, despite the clutter
blocking the sound waves from dispersing
throughout the room. Mamoru, on the other
hand, smelled fresh as a...daisy? Nope.
*Definitely* not as innocent as daisies. That
was it! That incense she was smelling *was*
him! She preened proudly, before slapping
herself mentally upside over the head. Eeesh,
what *was* with these raging hormones today?
They were rebelling, she noted sourly.
Ever since she'd decided to get into the habit
of paying attention to her studies instead of
the opposite sex, she'd managed to turn them
off. Now, they were returning—with a lusty
vengeance.
Mamoru was placed effectively on a white-
sanded platform, one bronze-sandaled foot
placed on a random, fake marble column that
jutted casually from the sand. He braced his
head on his palm, the elbow resting on the
slippery knee to complete his pondering stance.
At a certain angle, you could almost spot—ACK!
Usagi envisioned herself five minutes
later on her suave cell phone... "Hello? I'd
like to make an appointment for the
psychiatrist..." She pictured herself saying,
thoughts unconsciously blurring into a single
image, Mamoru. He was still in that
translucent toga, much to her dismay. Or
rather, there were people around, other than
her, to gawk at him.
I wonder exactly *what* angle...Usagi
grinned lazily, before knocking herself back
into the side of sanity once more.
"Come on!" She heard Minako shout,
taking one of her many purposeful stances. "I
didn't have you rubbed with passion
aromatherapy oils for nothing! It's supposed
to get you in the mood! Right now, you're
showing as much emotion as a turnip would!
Chiba, what *is* wrong with you today?" Minako
sighed. It was the last day, and she was
behind schedule—as usual. However, being
"fashionably late" in this case was simply not
acceptable.
"So she *DID* get him rubbed down until
he smelled like a candle!" Usagi gaped,
surprised. Promptly after, she began to crack
her knuckles. Who the hell *touched* him?!
She thought, already plotting revenge for the
imaginary figure. A loud crack came from her
knuckles.
"Ouch!" She began to nurse the poor
knuckle. What possessed her to do *that*? She
knew she had delicate joints there! The
previous vision of calling the psychiatrist
came to mind once more as she shooed it away
irritably.
Mamoru stole a glance at Usagi, who
seemed to be irritated about something...
Funny, there was no one around, he
frowned, but was immediately snapped back into
the reality he knew as the commercial set.
Digging his feet into the artificially bleached
white sand, he allowed his glance to linger
more on the golden figure staring critically at
the back of her hand.
"Okay people, bring out the fans!"
Minako commanded, looking very business-like.
"Fans?" Mamoru gulped audibly, already
feeling the skirt of his toga stir. Another
stolen glance at Usagi showed her sitting bolt
upright, looking appalled at her friend.
Minako proceeded to walk closer to the
sandy area, propping up herself on a hollow
column.
"Hmm, place one here, here and here," she
pointed to three different places, all in
separate, extreme sides of the set. However,
the set, as Mamoru finally noticed, wasn't all
that big, which would mean there would be less
distance for the breeze to travel...
Kami-sama help him...
Minako, on the other hand, looked about
proudly, before frowning at the fan placed not-
nearly-close enough to her cupid specimen. She
pushed it to what she assumed to be the
"perfect" angle before nodding satisfactorily.
"Uhh..." Mamoru uttered, looking
mightily afraid.
"What is it, Chiba-san?" Minako looked
up skeptically.
"Don't you think those fans might be a
little...err...revealing?" He stuttered,
suddenly afraid for his modesty. Goodbye,
humble pie...
Minako grinned, shaking her head. "Don't
be silly, Chiba-san. I don't intend to reveal
anything...much." She grinned flirtatiously.
She swiveled and returned to her spot by the
cameras, completely unaware of the wild
gestures that Mamoru was issuing.
"You owe me big time, Usagi-chan," she
murmured triumphantly, skipping once
childishly, before settling herself in the
director's seat. She peeked at Usagi, who was
looking a healthy shade of tomato red.
"Lights! Camera! Action!" Director
Minako declared, motioning for the fans to turn
on. "Full speed ahead!" She added in, before
the cameras began to record the events before
them.
And those events were interesting,
indeed...
Usagi's eyes flew wide open, as did all
the other pairs of eyes that were previously
gawking at Mamoru's marble-Greek physique. Her
mouth parted slightly as she wished more so
than before for that comforter.
Mamoru, on the other hand, stood
uncomfortably on the set. Kami-sama, was the
cloth on his behind,...flapping? He blanched,
trying to turn his backside toward the
background of the set, where it would be
concealed from most of the...audience? He
gulped again, pressing his parched lips tighter
in a thin line. His storm-blue eyes hardened
in embarrassment as he fought to keep a blush
from forming on his angular cheekbones.
A coffee cup smashing on the floor broke
the silence beyond the artificial windy
whispers. However, it wasn't that particular
intrusion of silence that brought Minako from
her analytical study of the commercial.
"CUT!" She commanded, taking full
advantage of her authority on the set. She
stalked toward Mamoru, who had effectively
inched toward the back wall of the set without
notice. Hopefully, this might save whatever
dignity he had left.
"Chiba-san," she sighed dejectedly,
shaking her head dramatically in
disappointment. Her hands flew into the air,
as if preaching him about the evils of vanity.
Yeah, sure...
"What am I going to do to you? It's the
last day, and you decide to chicken out?" She
sighed extravagantly once again, looking as if
she was a renaissance play actor. She shot him
a soft, but firm look, a strictly business
look.
"Have you ever heard about the Olympics
in ancient Greece?" She asked, bracing an arm
on a column, as if by habit.
Mamoru nodded silently in reply. He was
still ruffled by the events that had elapsed
over the last few minutes to speak.
"Well, they used to rub oil over their
body."
Mamoru nodded mutely again. He'd already
been through that. He was lucky that it didn't
leave a rash on his skin. In fact, the oil had
been quite healthy for his skin. Normally, he
wouldn't have cared less, but Minako had
claimed that it was for "camera effects".
"They also went naked," she continued,
disregarding any responses Mamoru might have
had.
Mamoru, on the other hand, stared,
frozen. His eyes, fixed on her, as a horrified
expression settled on his handsome features.
"You're not telling me..." He croaked.
Minako stared at him blankly. It wasn't
long before his implied message dawned upon
her. She was barely restraining herself from
hitting him upside over the head. "No, you
hentai! This is for chocolates! I don't want
anything that requires heavy censorship!"
Heavy censorship? Posh...
"Minimal, maybe, but not a full blown,
heavy duty—argh!" She shook her head in
disbelief, strands of hair escaping from their
ribbon bonds behind.
Wait...did she say minimal? The paling
ensued once again...A common expression that
appeared on Mamoru's face lately. What was
minimal censorship? Only allowing the cloth to
ride so far up his—once again, we censor.
"Do we *have* to work with the fans?" He
pleaded, hoping his superior would be merciful.
He looked at her adorably, but this woman had
emotions of steel.
Oh well, it seemed too high a demand on
his behalf anyway...
"Yes," she nodded curtly, stalking back
to the director's seat for the umpteenth time
that day. However, she wasn't tired. Minako
was *full* of energy, Mamoru smiled sourly.
Once again, the fans were turned on, and
he received his cue to stand purposefully on a
fake, plaster pedestal. As much as he tried
not to, he couldn't help but cringe inward
slightly. He absolutely refused to bend down
too far either!
"Chiba-san! Pose properly for us! We
don't want to be here all day! Let that toga
*conform* to your body!" He saw Minako nod
briskly, her eyes lingering on the item on the
plate before waving a hand casually at a
passerby who offered her a cinnamon bun. "If
we could, we would've PAINTED the toga on you!"
She shouted one last time, before falling
victim to the enticing smell of the bun.
Mamoru winced, raking a hand through his
coal-black hair. Even though it was the last
day, it was going to be a *long* day indeed...
***
"Come on, car!" Usagi huffed, banging a
fist on the hood of her vehicle. She stared at
the care pointedly. It didn't respond.
All she wanted to do was go home and take
a deep, long, COLD shower. After the day's
events with the fans and the oil, her mind felt
too foggy for her to think straight. She'd
spent the entire day gripping on the table
before her, attempting to finish up some loose
end paperwork that she'd brought with her.
Naturally, nothing was completed during the
course of that day. In fact, she was far too
stunned with Minako's handiwork to react, let
alone to work.
"Stupid car!" She glared her trademarked
glare at the car, resisting the urge from
kicking a tire. No, she'd seen too many
cartoons that did that, and every time, their
big toes would be swelling up like a cherry
tomato.
She bent down to the car's level,
plastering on the sweetest face she could
muster at the moment. "Car," she said
charmingly, as if lulling a toddler to go to
bed. "Start, won't you?" She turned the key
in the ignition, fully expecting the car to
comply.
It didn't budge. In fact, the engines
gave a hoarse, mechanically painful croak
before they fell into a lapse of silence once
again.
Usagi frowned. Dejectedly, she sat
herself on the edge of the driver's seat, legs
dangling out from the car. The open door
allowed a refreshing breeze to brush past,
ruffling the small hairs around her face to
stir slightly.
"Ja ne, Usagi-chan!" Minako raced past,
completely oblivious of the situation her best
friend was in. She was already late. Somehow,
the thought of being fashionably late was the
best of suggestions at the moment.
Usagi waved, sighing heavily.
"Car trouble?" Mamoru grinned, watching
Usagi jump up in surprise, hitting her head
upon the low ceiling of her car without delay.
She winced in reaction.
"Are you all right?" Mamoru asked,
brushing the fair hairs from her head to survey
the damage. He couldn't see anything beyond
the blond mass. His fingers were tangled in
her hair as he reveled in the softness.
Hard on the outside, soft within, he
smiled gently, reluctantly disentangling his
fingers from the silken strands. His hand went
to the back of her head instead. He wasn't
quite done with those strands yet...
"Want a drive home?" He offered, holding
out a hand as if to receive a lady from a
carriage. He watched as a light dawned upon
her face, making it positively angelic.
Gingerly, she reached for the proffered
hand, slowly hoisting herself from the seat to
avoid bumping her head again. As if one brain
jostle wasn't enough, she smiled inwardly to
herself.
"Thanks," she murmured, eyes glued to his
smile...the gentlest smile she'd ever seen...
His gaze seemed to glaze over hers, as she
suddenly felt weak in her knees. The voice
within shouted gleefully, "It's love! It's
love! I told you so!" A hint of smugness was
buried in the joyful proclamations.
Apparently, it did have an ego of it's own.
He led her to the car silently, stealing
that occasional glance at the top of her blond
head. Once she was safely buckled up, and away
from the harm of the car ceiling, he started
the ignition, veering off onto the main road.
Taking a quick glance at his rear-view
mirror as he often did, he spotted Minako by a
car, seemingly speaking to no one in
particular. She looked downwards.
Probably has gum on her shoe...Mamoru
shrugged, and focused his attention on the road
instead. For now, he was more than content to
have Usagi sitting beside him.
***
"I'm working on it," Minako grinned at a
pudgy little character, standing, hidden behind
a massive red car. "Don't worry, everything's
in control! After all, you assigned me to do
it," Minako winked, as merry giggling ensued.
***
Done! BWAHAHAHA!!! ::coughs:: yes, it's a bit
revealing, I know. Oh well. ::points to
patch:: she made me do it! ;)
Questions, flames, comments?
Em to:
Patchkhan1@hotmail.com or
Tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com
March 5/01
done! Soo, it's a bit late ::dodges glares::
But I'm working on some other shtuff! Really!
::does a mizu jig:: ^^;;
Patch's AN's:
Chapter 5: Of Togas and Fans...
Disclaimer: You know the deal, no own Mamo-
chan, no own Usagi. *But* we do have exclusive
rights to the oil used on his body and the toga
he wore *Mizu & Patch grin happily*
***
Never in her twenty-four years of
experiencing agency life did Usagi feel this
skittish. Sure, she'd seen many men in a
short, skimpy pieces of translucent—
err...togas, or some sort of apparatus that was
*supposed* to hide those strategic parts, but
she never fell head over heels over a
particular model or actor. Was that it? Was
she falling in love?
Love was never a primary concern in her
busy life; sensing that her personal life would
only interfere in more important matters. If
she wanted to pursue a personal life, it would
only prove to be a distraction.
Then again, Mamoru was a distraction...
Mamoru in a toga was an even *bigger*
distraction...
Some things about Mamoru were—irk. Never
mind. This needs to be censored for younger
audiences anyway.
"It's pure physical attraction," she
compromised with that little voice in her head
that held her heart in the wellspring it called
its soul. It sighed in dissatisfaction and
obvious disappointment.
"I can get over this," she breathed in
deeply, feeling a renewed vigor to take control
of her chaotic life. "I can do this, I can—"
...and that was when Chiba Mamoru walked
right onto the production set, toga and all,
all...*that*. She sighed absentmindedly,
shaking her head of the interesting thoughts
that came to mind. He'd obviously got the hang
of the toga, this being one of the last times
he'd need to show up for the commercial shoot.
However, she could still spot him flinch ever-
so-slightly when a woman would give him a
flirtatious smile. She fixed her lips on the
edge of her coffee cup, inhaling the liquid as
if it were her life's only sustenance. Where
was that comforter, anyway?
She was too occupied with her private
thoughts to notice him stand over her shoulder.
"Morning," he said casually, stuffing his
hands into imaginary pockets, then promptly
realizing that there *were* none. In fact,
there wouldn't be enough space to sew pockets
on the outfit.
She sputtered in her coffee in response,
as Mamoru instinctively pat her back to help
relieve the stress. A concerned look appeared
in his eyes that went by unnoticed by Usagi,
who felt like she was hacking up a hairball.
The smell of aromatherapy-scents fogged
her senses, as Mamoru bent down worriedly.
"All you all right?" He peered at her level,
grasping her shoulder, still concerned for her
welfare.
She shook her head, blanching at the
position he was in. "Dear lord, Mamoru! Stand
up, will you?" She immediately shut her mouth,
wishing that she had said nothing in the first
place.
Mamoru look perplexed. He looked cute
when he was perplexed. Usagi refrained herself
from sighing audibly, but he still caught the
strange, slight, mewing sound that parted from
her petal-soft lips. He bent down lower to
Usagi's arched form. Immediately, soft giggles
and loud feminine whoops came from behind him.
"Flash that butt, pretty boy!"
"You can bend down for me, *anytime*!"
Wait a minute...the last one sounded
awfully like Minako...Usagi groaned, hiding
herself behind a stack of brown folders.
Mamoru paled, and abruptly stood stock
still, straight as a soldier. Egads, he'd have
to be careful when he bent down...
"What's the big idea?" Minako, director
and photographer supreme, snapped. Her voice
rang throughout the set, despite the clutter
blocking the sound waves from dispersing
throughout the room. Mamoru, on the other
hand, smelled fresh as a...daisy? Nope.
*Definitely* not as innocent as daisies. That
was it! That incense she was smelling *was*
him! She preened proudly, before slapping
herself mentally upside over the head. Eeesh,
what *was* with these raging hormones today?
They were rebelling, she noted sourly.
Ever since she'd decided to get into the habit
of paying attention to her studies instead of
the opposite sex, she'd managed to turn them
off. Now, they were returning—with a lusty
vengeance.
Mamoru was placed effectively on a white-
sanded platform, one bronze-sandaled foot
placed on a random, fake marble column that
jutted casually from the sand. He braced his
head on his palm, the elbow resting on the
slippery knee to complete his pondering stance.
At a certain angle, you could almost spot—ACK!
Usagi envisioned herself five minutes
later on her suave cell phone... "Hello? I'd
like to make an appointment for the
psychiatrist..." She pictured herself saying,
thoughts unconsciously blurring into a single
image, Mamoru. He was still in that
translucent toga, much to her dismay. Or
rather, there were people around, other than
her, to gawk at him.
I wonder exactly *what* angle...Usagi
grinned lazily, before knocking herself back
into the side of sanity once more.
"Come on!" She heard Minako shout,
taking one of her many purposeful stances. "I
didn't have you rubbed with passion
aromatherapy oils for nothing! It's supposed
to get you in the mood! Right now, you're
showing as much emotion as a turnip would!
Chiba, what *is* wrong with you today?" Minako
sighed. It was the last day, and she was
behind schedule—as usual. However, being
"fashionably late" in this case was simply not
acceptable.
"So she *DID* get him rubbed down until
he smelled like a candle!" Usagi gaped,
surprised. Promptly after, she began to crack
her knuckles. Who the hell *touched* him?!
She thought, already plotting revenge for the
imaginary figure. A loud crack came from her
knuckles.
"Ouch!" She began to nurse the poor
knuckle. What possessed her to do *that*? She
knew she had delicate joints there! The
previous vision of calling the psychiatrist
came to mind once more as she shooed it away
irritably.
Mamoru stole a glance at Usagi, who
seemed to be irritated about something...
Funny, there was no one around, he
frowned, but was immediately snapped back into
the reality he knew as the commercial set.
Digging his feet into the artificially bleached
white sand, he allowed his glance to linger
more on the golden figure staring critically at
the back of her hand.
"Okay people, bring out the fans!"
Minako commanded, looking very business-like.
"Fans?" Mamoru gulped audibly, already
feeling the skirt of his toga stir. Another
stolen glance at Usagi showed her sitting bolt
upright, looking appalled at her friend.
Minako proceeded to walk closer to the
sandy area, propping up herself on a hollow
column.
"Hmm, place one here, here and here," she
pointed to three different places, all in
separate, extreme sides of the set. However,
the set, as Mamoru finally noticed, wasn't all
that big, which would mean there would be less
distance for the breeze to travel...
Kami-sama help him...
Minako, on the other hand, looked about
proudly, before frowning at the fan placed not-
nearly-close enough to her cupid specimen. She
pushed it to what she assumed to be the
"perfect" angle before nodding satisfactorily.
"Uhh..." Mamoru uttered, looking
mightily afraid.
"What is it, Chiba-san?" Minako looked
up skeptically.
"Don't you think those fans might be a
little...err...revealing?" He stuttered,
suddenly afraid for his modesty. Goodbye,
humble pie...
Minako grinned, shaking her head. "Don't
be silly, Chiba-san. I don't intend to reveal
anything...much." She grinned flirtatiously.
She swiveled and returned to her spot by the
cameras, completely unaware of the wild
gestures that Mamoru was issuing.
"You owe me big time, Usagi-chan," she
murmured triumphantly, skipping once
childishly, before settling herself in the
director's seat. She peeked at Usagi, who was
looking a healthy shade of tomato red.
"Lights! Camera! Action!" Director
Minako declared, motioning for the fans to turn
on. "Full speed ahead!" She added in, before
the cameras began to record the events before
them.
And those events were interesting,
indeed...
Usagi's eyes flew wide open, as did all
the other pairs of eyes that were previously
gawking at Mamoru's marble-Greek physique. Her
mouth parted slightly as she wished more so
than before for that comforter.
Mamoru, on the other hand, stood
uncomfortably on the set. Kami-sama, was the
cloth on his behind,...flapping? He blanched,
trying to turn his backside toward the
background of the set, where it would be
concealed from most of the...audience? He
gulped again, pressing his parched lips tighter
in a thin line. His storm-blue eyes hardened
in embarrassment as he fought to keep a blush
from forming on his angular cheekbones.
A coffee cup smashing on the floor broke
the silence beyond the artificial windy
whispers. However, it wasn't that particular
intrusion of silence that brought Minako from
her analytical study of the commercial.
"CUT!" She commanded, taking full
advantage of her authority on the set. She
stalked toward Mamoru, who had effectively
inched toward the back wall of the set without
notice. Hopefully, this might save whatever
dignity he had left.
"Chiba-san," she sighed dejectedly,
shaking her head dramatically in
disappointment. Her hands flew into the air,
as if preaching him about the evils of vanity.
Yeah, sure...
"What am I going to do to you? It's the
last day, and you decide to chicken out?" She
sighed extravagantly once again, looking as if
she was a renaissance play actor. She shot him
a soft, but firm look, a strictly business
look.
"Have you ever heard about the Olympics
in ancient Greece?" She asked, bracing an arm
on a column, as if by habit.
Mamoru nodded silently in reply. He was
still ruffled by the events that had elapsed
over the last few minutes to speak.
"Well, they used to rub oil over their
body."
Mamoru nodded mutely again. He'd already
been through that. He was lucky that it didn't
leave a rash on his skin. In fact, the oil had
been quite healthy for his skin. Normally, he
wouldn't have cared less, but Minako had
claimed that it was for "camera effects".
"They also went naked," she continued,
disregarding any responses Mamoru might have
had.
Mamoru, on the other hand, stared,
frozen. His eyes, fixed on her, as a horrified
expression settled on his handsome features.
"You're not telling me..." He croaked.
Minako stared at him blankly. It wasn't
long before his implied message dawned upon
her. She was barely restraining herself from
hitting him upside over the head. "No, you
hentai! This is for chocolates! I don't want
anything that requires heavy censorship!"
Heavy censorship? Posh...
"Minimal, maybe, but not a full blown,
heavy duty—argh!" She shook her head in
disbelief, strands of hair escaping from their
ribbon bonds behind.
Wait...did she say minimal? The paling
ensued once again...A common expression that
appeared on Mamoru's face lately. What was
minimal censorship? Only allowing the cloth to
ride so far up his—once again, we censor.
"Do we *have* to work with the fans?" He
pleaded, hoping his superior would be merciful.
He looked at her adorably, but this woman had
emotions of steel.
Oh well, it seemed too high a demand on
his behalf anyway...
"Yes," she nodded curtly, stalking back
to the director's seat for the umpteenth time
that day. However, she wasn't tired. Minako
was *full* of energy, Mamoru smiled sourly.
Once again, the fans were turned on, and
he received his cue to stand purposefully on a
fake, plaster pedestal. As much as he tried
not to, he couldn't help but cringe inward
slightly. He absolutely refused to bend down
too far either!
"Chiba-san! Pose properly for us! We
don't want to be here all day! Let that toga
*conform* to your body!" He saw Minako nod
briskly, her eyes lingering on the item on the
plate before waving a hand casually at a
passerby who offered her a cinnamon bun. "If
we could, we would've PAINTED the toga on you!"
She shouted one last time, before falling
victim to the enticing smell of the bun.
Mamoru winced, raking a hand through his
coal-black hair. Even though it was the last
day, it was going to be a *long* day indeed...
***
"Come on, car!" Usagi huffed, banging a
fist on the hood of her vehicle. She stared at
the care pointedly. It didn't respond.
All she wanted to do was go home and take
a deep, long, COLD shower. After the day's
events with the fans and the oil, her mind felt
too foggy for her to think straight. She'd
spent the entire day gripping on the table
before her, attempting to finish up some loose
end paperwork that she'd brought with her.
Naturally, nothing was completed during the
course of that day. In fact, she was far too
stunned with Minako's handiwork to react, let
alone to work.
"Stupid car!" She glared her trademarked
glare at the car, resisting the urge from
kicking a tire. No, she'd seen too many
cartoons that did that, and every time, their
big toes would be swelling up like a cherry
tomato.
She bent down to the car's level,
plastering on the sweetest face she could
muster at the moment. "Car," she said
charmingly, as if lulling a toddler to go to
bed. "Start, won't you?" She turned the key
in the ignition, fully expecting the car to
comply.
It didn't budge. In fact, the engines
gave a hoarse, mechanically painful croak
before they fell into a lapse of silence once
again.
Usagi frowned. Dejectedly, she sat
herself on the edge of the driver's seat, legs
dangling out from the car. The open door
allowed a refreshing breeze to brush past,
ruffling the small hairs around her face to
stir slightly.
"Ja ne, Usagi-chan!" Minako raced past,
completely oblivious of the situation her best
friend was in. She was already late. Somehow,
the thought of being fashionably late was the
best of suggestions at the moment.
Usagi waved, sighing heavily.
"Car trouble?" Mamoru grinned, watching
Usagi jump up in surprise, hitting her head
upon the low ceiling of her car without delay.
She winced in reaction.
"Are you all right?" Mamoru asked,
brushing the fair hairs from her head to survey
the damage. He couldn't see anything beyond
the blond mass. His fingers were tangled in
her hair as he reveled in the softness.
Hard on the outside, soft within, he
smiled gently, reluctantly disentangling his
fingers from the silken strands. His hand went
to the back of her head instead. He wasn't
quite done with those strands yet...
"Want a drive home?" He offered, holding
out a hand as if to receive a lady from a
carriage. He watched as a light dawned upon
her face, making it positively angelic.
Gingerly, she reached for the proffered
hand, slowly hoisting herself from the seat to
avoid bumping her head again. As if one brain
jostle wasn't enough, she smiled inwardly to
herself.
"Thanks," she murmured, eyes glued to his
smile...the gentlest smile she'd ever seen...
His gaze seemed to glaze over hers, as she
suddenly felt weak in her knees. The voice
within shouted gleefully, "It's love! It's
love! I told you so!" A hint of smugness was
buried in the joyful proclamations.
Apparently, it did have an ego of it's own.
He led her to the car silently, stealing
that occasional glance at the top of her blond
head. Once she was safely buckled up, and away
from the harm of the car ceiling, he started
the ignition, veering off onto the main road.
Taking a quick glance at his rear-view
mirror as he often did, he spotted Minako by a
car, seemingly speaking to no one in
particular. She looked downwards.
Probably has gum on her shoe...Mamoru
shrugged, and focused his attention on the road
instead. For now, he was more than content to
have Usagi sitting beside him.
***
"I'm working on it," Minako grinned at a
pudgy little character, standing, hidden behind
a massive red car. "Don't worry, everything's
in control! After all, you assigned me to do
it," Minako winked, as merry giggling ensued.
***
Done! BWAHAHAHA!!! ::coughs:: yes, it's a bit
revealing, I know. Oh well. ::points to
patch:: she made me do it! ;)
Questions, flames, comments?
Em to:
Patchkhan1@hotmail.com or
Tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com
March 5/01