[Happy happy! Another Haruka/Michiru story! I like the way this one is turning out,
though things will get weird soon.

Haruka, Michiru, and Sailormoon belong to Takeuchi-sama, not me. Damn.

Story by the one and only Michie.

(huggles her Haruka-sama and Michiru-chan) They may be out of character, but they're
still the ones we all love. Please don't be too mad at me; I'd never split them up though!

Reviews are greatly greatly appreciated! Enjoy!]

Pulling up into the winding driveway of the large mansion she shared, Ten'ou Haruka
rolled down her window and took a deep breath. The air outside was chilly and crisp, but
that was how it should be, after all. It was late December, only a few weeks until
Christmas. Haruka was looking forward to spending the holiday curled up inside the
warm house with the love of her life. She had the perfect gift picked out for Michiru,
after all; though spending a quiet evening with her would be simply enough to keep her
happy.

She pulled the Ferrari up next to the mailbox and smiled. Painted with pink flowers
spiraling up the sides, the mailbox was the only bright thing out in this colorless world.
The flowers looked nearly real, at least until one reached out to touch the rough wood,
but that was typical of Michiru's work. A stunning, haunting realism, whether it was in
visions of the world's end or a delicately painted garden. Pulling the box open, she sighed
as she pulled out the stack of mail that had accumulated over the past few days. That was
what she got for not leaving the house for a while…she really should make a point of
checking it more often.

Pulling into the garage, Haruka turned off the engine and stepped into the house, mail and
keys in one hand, bag of groceries in the other. Walking through the spacious entryway,
she passed the sunlit sitting room. Gentle notes of violin symphony wafted out, dancing
patterns inside of her ears. Noting that the tall French doors were closed, she glanced
inside. Michiru was there, eyes closed, playing her violin, her slender body rocking
gently with the music, as if the notes were carrying her on a wave. Haruka smiled gently
at the scene before here eyes. Of course she wouldn't disturb her; Michiru would find out
soon enough that she was home. Walking into the kitchen, Haruka put away the few
groceries that she had bought, and then settled down at the table. Draping her coat over
the back of her chair, she settled down and began to page through the mail.
Phone bill, junk mail, a letter of thanks from the London Symphony Orchestra for their
donation, various magazine subscriptions, nothing in particular caught Haruka's eye.
Separating the mail into two piles, to keep and throw away, she came across a small
envelope with fancy script on it. What could this be? Glancing at the return address,
Haruka's face contorted into a mixture of anger and shame. Memories that shouldn't have
been brought back up just had been.

Viciously tearing open the pretty floral envelope, Haruka glanced at the letter inside. In a
formal, calligraphic handwriting, the letter soon revealed itself to be an invitation.
Disgusted, she hurriedly shoved the letter and envelope into the middle of her "throw"
pile.

Behind her, Michiru quietly walked up and slipped her arms around Haruka's chest.
Resting her head on her lover's shoulder, Michiru glanced at the piles sitting on the table.

"I heard you come in. Was the traffic bad?"

"No, not at all. No one wants to drive in this slush, myself included."

"But you did though! Thank you for doing that for me."

Haruka smiled up at Michiru. It really wasn't that big of a thing to do, although the
Ferrari would need a wash now. Anything to make her happy.

"Eh, Haruka? What's this?" Michiru had caught sight of the flowery envelope, and
reached down to pull it out of the growing stack of junk mail. Without thinking, Haruka
slammed her hand down on the pile, pinning the envelope against the table.

"Ah, well, it's nothing. Just a thank you letter from…from…"

"Moh, you're not a very good liar! If it's a thank you letter, why not just let me see it?"

Haruka sighed, exasperated. "Michiru, trust me on this one. It's best left alone." But by
that point, the letter had already been pulled out from the pile. Scanning the invitation,
Michiru's face lit up.

"Haruka! Why don't we go to this? I still have yet to meet your parents, and I know you
haven't talked to them in years, since they stopped paying for the apartment. Maybe this
would be a great opportunity for the both of us to make amends. Besides, it is the polite
thing to do…"

"You really don't want to meet my parents. They're really not the best people, and
meeting them would leave a bad impression of me."

"Oh, you know I could never have a bad impression of you! I love you too much to do
that! Besides, they can't be worse than my mother…never home or there for me when I
needed support." She drifted back into a sea of horrible childhood memories.

Michiru's mother was a curator of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum. Since her father
had never been there when she was a child, her mother had been her only support.
However, with such an important job, she had hardly any time to take care of her
daughter, only the money to support her. To make up for this, she had placed the young
Michiru in lessons and classes of all sorts, ranging from horseback riding and swimming
to voice and dance. The only lessons that had been enjoyable were the violin and cello
lessons, taught by some of the finest musicians in the country. Strangely enough, Michiru
had never been in art lessons as a child; she had discovered her talent through the many
visits to the museum's galleries. Her mother, even today, was a busy woman, never
stopping by for a visit or attending any of the couple's parties. Haruka had met her only
once, at an all-too-rushed lunch meeting. It wasn't that she disapproved of Michiru's
choice of a partner; it was merely that she wasn't involved in her daughter's life enough
to care.

"The only time she ever sent me mail was when I received money. No, wait, she sends
me a card every year on my birthday, but only that."

Looking at the pained expression in her eyes, Haruka slipped an arm around Michiru's
waist and held her graceful form close. What if she had never met her; would she have
continued with her unloved existence? Refusing to think about such a thing, Haruka
turned her focus back to the crisis at hand.

"I can't say that my parents weren't there for me when I needed them; more like they
were there too much. They could never accept me for who I was, or am. Because of that,
we haven't talked much. So, I'm fairly sure that spending time with them would be more
painful for the two of us than spending time with your mother."

"How so?"

"They were never accepting of my dislike of men, or my preferences in, well, gender. It
was my mother's dream to have a perfect little girl in a perfect little lacy dress, dancing
with the boys, with dreams of becoming a bride and a mother. Obviously, that was only a
dream."

"Though, you are a mother, after all."

Haruka laughed. "You couldn't even say that, more like a father figure to Hotaru.
Besides, she doesn't even live with us anymore. She'll never meet my mother, I'll make
sure of it. My mother…she never approved of my dangerous lifestyle, racing and all, and
she'll never approve of you. Granted, she'll love you, the kind of woman that she wanted
me to grow up to be. But as for our relationship, she won't be able to stand it. You're no
rich young man, so to her, you don't deserve me.

"And for my father…well, I'm afraid what he'd do to you. I mean, he's a nice guy and
all, but it's just…"

"Haruka…just once. The invitation says we can spend a week in their house, and attend a
casual party on one of those days. It's one week, out of a lifetime. Besides, they did invite
you, after all…"

"But not you! I'm not going if you don't!"

Michiru smiled. She was giving in. "Then I'll call them right now, or maybe you should.
Ask them if I can come, and if they say yes, we can go spend the week."

"Michiru…you know I can't honestly convince them to let us go together."

"Please? For me? Consider it a Christmas present."

Haruka sighed. She had already gotten a present for Michiru, but still… "All right, fine.
But only for you."

Michiru smiled. "Thank you," she whispered into Haruka's ear. With a light kiss on the
cheek, she went upstairs.

- - -

The call was made, the deed was done. Haruka hung up the phone, and slumped against
the wall. The loud, ecstatic voice of her mother still rang in her ears. Thinking, trying to
block it out, she wandered over to the table and picked up the paper invitation. December
nineteenth…that was only in three days. They'd leave that morning for the day's drive
ahead of them, and stay until Christmas morning. Back at home, on the evening of the
holiday, Haruka would give Michiru her present. Her mother had tried to persuade her to
stay the whole week and leave two days later, but she had refused. Michiru would get the
present on Christmas, and it would most definitely be back at their house.

Climbing the winding staircase, Haruka wandered into the bedroom the couple shared.
Curled up on the bed, Michiru sat with a cellular phone against her ear. Seeing Haruka
walk into the room, she patted the bed next to her, telling her silently to sit down. Haruka
gave her a weak smile and took a seat.

"No, Sato-san, I'm sorry, I can't be your soloist on Wednesday, we have plans. I told
you, I'd be glad to do it on the third, but I can't do it at all next week. Oh, I know! Again,
I apologize for the problem. Yes, happy holidays to you too. Goodbye!" She hung up.

"Who was that?" Haruka murmured, burying her face into Michiru's wavy head of hair.
"A boyfriend?"

"You know better than that," she replied, melting under Haruka's touch. "The director of
the orchestra. He wanted me to perform a solo, but I can't."

Bending over the slender woman, Haruka leaned down, gazing deeply into Michiru's
eyes. "For obvious reasons…Michiru, why do we have to do this?"

Reaching up and wrapping her arms around Haruka's neck, Michiru whispered softly,
next to Haruka's ear. "Didn't I already explain it to you?" Haruka shivered gleefully as
Michiru began to gently kiss her neck.

"I know, I know…" Haruka breathed, tracing her hands down her lover's face, down past
her neck, tracing her collarbone with her fingertips. Searching quickly, knowingly
through folds of fabric, she found the top button on Michiru's blouse, and unbuttoned it.
Moving more confidently now, her hands found the second, and the third.

Please don't stop these kisses.

And then, a thought, plain and straight through the beautiful passion, an arrow in the
dark. Is this the last time the two of them would be doing this? Putting it out of her mind,
Haruka focused on the moment at hand.

[tbc]