Love Potion No. 19: Chapter Three
Alicia Blade

Writers, looking for some fun challenges? Check out the December Holiday Challenge and the 25 Romantic Drabbles Challenge at smfanfiction dot net; the 100 Theme Drabbles Challenge and the Choose Your Own Adventure Challenge at UsakoMamoru on livejournal. Links on my bio page.

Many thanks to Stormlight, my fab editor, and all reviewers for their encouragement and kindness!

Chapter 3: Love is Still Warm from the Oven

Her hands were shaking so hard she was surprised that she hadn't yet dropped the platter of cookies held in their grip. Her stomach wouldn't stop turning. She thought she might pass out again.

But she hadn't yet, not during the whole long walk over, and now she was here, inside his apartment building, outside of his door. He was right on the other side of this wall. Her heart was beating louder than a drum. Her feet were plastered to the floor.

I can't do this. I can't do this. What was I thinking? I can't do this!

But she found that she couldn't walk away, either. Her body had lost all mobility and just stood there, trembling. The smell of cookies wafted into her nose but it only made her feel more sick and dizzy. Her throat was completely dry.

She'd been standing outside of his door for over twenty minutes, desperately trying to find the courage to knock, but it simply wasn't there. She couldn't help thinking of a million different things that could go wrong. He could laugh. He could scowl at her disdainfully. He could think of her as an obnoxious nuisance on his doorstep. He could slam the door on her. He could…

She gasped.

Oh my god, he could have a girl in there with him!

Her cheeks flushed, water building up in her eyes. She harshly blinked it away, shaking her head so strongly that her own jumbled worries rattled inside of it.

"He doesn't have a girlfriend. He can't have a girlfriend! He doesn't—"

The door swung open.

Usagi screeched and launched herself backward, finding her body pinned against the opposite wall of the hallway with a plate of (miraculously safe) cookies in her hands, staring up at a very startled Mamoru.

He blinked. "Odango?"

Her thoughts became incoherent, her mouth twitching in shock. Her heart was clogging her throat and only stuttered sounds managed to make it past her lips.

He furrowed his brow. "What are you doing here?"

"I… er… uh… w-well…. Umm…. Heheh… uh…" She slammed her mouth shut, clenching her teeth against the idiocy she was betraying, and thrust the plate of cookies toward him.

He looked at the cookies. He looked back up at the girl. He looked back at the cookies. He looked back at the girl.

"So… what are you doing here?"

"Cookies," she squeaked. "Baked cookies. I. Chocolate chip. Baked. For you. Cookies."

He squinted at her speculatively. "Are you feeling okay?"

She nodded vigorously.

He looked down at the plate again. "Are they poisoned?"

She gasped. "I wouldn't!"

Shaking his head, he leaned up against the door frame. She was still holding the plate at arm's length toward him. "So… why did you bring me cookies?"

Usagi inhaled shakily and cleared her throat, desperately trying to calm her tossing emotions. She couldn't peel her eyes away from him. "Because," she began, "I feel really bad about the milkshake today. It was horrifically rude of me and I hope that you'll accept these as a symbol of peace." She was glad she'd been practicing that on the walk over, otherwise she was sure another stream of illogical sounds was all she could have managed.

He stood there silently for a moment, staring at her in disbelief, and she found herself mesmerized by his eyelashes.

Finally, he responded, "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded again, her lips dry. Every nerve in her body was screaming to be launched into his arms—to feel his fingers on her skin, to know the foreign taste of his lips, to memorize the scent of his cologne. She braced her feet on the carpet and pushed herself back against the wall with as much force as she could, worried that should she allow herself even the tiniest chance of such actions, she wouldn't be able to stop them.

Mamoru slowly reached out one hand and took the plate from her and she immediately drew her arms protectively in front of her stomach.

"Well, um, thanks. I guess."

She was still nodding.

He rubbed two fingers over his temple, watching her awkwardly. "So, um, do you… want to come in?"

The light of the sun dawned on her face. "Sure!" she breathed.

Mamoru took a startled step back. "Really?" It was apparent that that was not the answer he'd been expecting, but Usagi's smile proved that she really had said yes. "Oh, um, okay. Come on in." He stepped aside and she forced herself away from the wall, glad that her legs supported her better than she thought they would.

Mamoru shut the door behind her and went to set the cookies on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. He then took off his jacket and threw it onto the sofa and for the first time it occurred to Usagi that he had probably been leaving. She bit down on her lower lip.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

"No, no, that's fine. I was just going to run down to the corner store and pick up some stain remover."

"What for?"

He grinned crookedly. Her knees trembled and she dug her fingernails into her palm to keep from melting into the carpet. "Would you believe that chocolate milkshakes and wool blazers don't mix?"

"Oh!" she clasped a hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry!"

He furrowed his brow again, watching her strangely, before shaking his head. "It's fine. Don't worry about it, Odango. Just… stop apologizing. You're making me nervous."

"I am? Oh, I'm sorry."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Ack! I'm sorry! I mean, I'm not sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry! I mean, um… I… think I'll stop being sorry now…" She lowered her eyes and began digging her toe into the carpet, but Mamoru's chuckle brought her attention back to him. Her heart fluttered at the sound and she realized that she loved making him laugh. She would make him laugh every moment of the day if she could. It was the most perfect sound in the world and knowing that she had caused it filled her with pride. She smiled back at him.

"You're forgiven. Relax."

She nodded, sighing dreamily even as she began to totter awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Can I… get you something to drink?"

"Oh, um," she thought champagne or wine, but murmured, "some water might be nice."

"Sure."

She followed him into the kitchen and scanned the little room as he broke up some ice and put it into a glass. Then a lovely fantasy invaded her oh-so-focused thoughts. She saw herself here on a Friday evening, Mamoru and her cooking dinner together, teasing and laughing together, the heavenly scents of garlic and tomatoes hanging in the air. She was wearing a cute little pink apron and Mamoru loved to untie the strings when she wasn't paying attention, because it annoyed her. Then her face would flush bright pink and she would scold him, shaking a wooden spoon in his face. He would laugh and wrap his arms around her, tying the apron securely around her waist again while stooping down to steal another kiss.

"Usagi?"

"Huh? What? Oh!" She snatched the glass of water offered her and, feeling her cheeks burning, looked down at the floor tiles.

Mamoru couldn't remember the last time he'd had a visitor other than Motoki and stood watching the girl as if she was an apparition, wondering what exactly one was supposed to do in this situation. Pouring himself a glass of water as well, he took a long drink of it before turning back to the girl whose face was still bright red and who had become strangely preoccupied with his floor. He briefly wondered what on earth she could be thinking that had made her so flustered, but shook his head, guessing it was better to not know. The day had been strange enough as it was and he couldn't wait until it was over and, hopefully, everything would go back to normal. No more milkshakes and no more random visits.

"Thanks for the cookies, by the way."

She raised her eyes to meet his and smiled, her eyes glowing. The look made his hand freeze with the glass of water only inches from his lips. She'd never looked at him that way, before. What on earth did that look mean?

"You're welcome! I hope you'll like them. My mom helped to make them and she makes the best cookies in the world."

He grinned. "Well, chocolate chip is my favorite."

If possible, her beaming smile only widened. "Oh, good! I thought it might be!"

The elated look had a strange effect on Mamoru's heart and he turned away, running a hand roughly through his hair. The action sparked a yearning in Usagi and she quickly set her glass down on the counter lest she lose her ability to hold onto it.

"Well, um, as pleasant as this impromptu visit has been," Mamoru mumbled with a hint of sarcasm, leaning against the counter, "was there anything else you needed, Odango Atama?" He hoped that by resorting to her old familiar nickname he could bring a sense of normality into the conversation, but it didn't seem to faze her at all. She only continued to look cheerful, albeit a bit flustered.

"No, the cookies were all, really, I guess."

She looked apprehensive, and Mamoru couldn't imagine for the life of him why she wasn't itching to run from his apartment as fast as her long legs could carry—long? Shaking his head, he walked past her and back to the living room, picking his jacket off of the couch. "Well then I need to get down to the store before it closes."

"Why don't I take your blazer to the dry cleaner tomorrow?"

He turned to look at her, ready to roll his eyes sarcastically, but stopped when he saw a serious look on her face. "Naw, you don't have to do that. Thanks, though."

"Oh, please? I'd really like to!"

"Don't worry about it, Odango."

"I'm not worried, I just want to make it up to you. It's completely my fault that it's stained at all. It's the least that I can do."

He glanced meaningfully at the cookies. "But it's not a big deal."

"I would really feel a lot better about it, though!" she pressed, lunging forward and grabbing onto his hand.

The second her fingers were wrapped around his, she gasped and froze. Mamoru jumped slightly himself, and they both stared down at their intertwined hands. It occurred to Mamoru that it was the first time she had ever touched him, in all of the many months he had known her.

Usagi's thoughts weren't quite so coherent.

I'm holding his hand. I'm holding his hand. Oh my god, what do I do? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!

Her face flushed and she suddenly jumped away as if she'd been holding a hot iron, both of her hands reaching back to grab onto the counter behind her, clenching so tight that her knuckles began to ache.

Mamoru looked up at her, startled, and saw her wide eyes staring back at him, looking like a thief caught with her hand in the safe.

Pursing his lips together and furrowing his brow curiously, he took a step closer to her.

Oh my god, he's going to kiss me! she couldn't help thinking.

Raising a hand, Mamoru put his palm firmly on Usagi's forehead. She squeaked and backed away, bending backward over the counter. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"You feel warm, Odango. Are you sure you're feeling well? Would you like some aspirin?"

The feel of his hand calmly placed on her forehead made Usagi's legs weak and she was grateful for the counter's support. He was touching her—willingly. He had touched her this time.

And then she thought of what he had said and her heart melted with the concern he was showing her. She smiled whimsically, wishing she was sick so that she could tell him so and he would take care of her and nurse her back to health.

Is love a kind of sickness?

Then she thought it might be kind to show him the same kind of concern, so she tore one hand away from the counter and placed it on his forehead.

He stared at her, stunned.

"You feel warm, too, Mamoru."

He watched her silently, his hand on her forehead and her hand on his, then, a moment later, found himself laughing. He removed his palm and stepped back.

"Fine, Odango, you can take my jacket to the dry cleaner. If you insist."

She grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "It would be an honor."

Mamoru shook his head and walked into another room, returning a moment later with his green blazer in hand. Usagi grabbed it gratefully as it was handed to her, then stood smiling and teetering from foot to foot and trying to smell the material without making it obvious that she was doing so.

"So, I, um… guess that… I should get going, then," she muttered, loathe to leave the cozy little apartment that smelled like cookies and the presence of the man that filled her world with sunbeams and rainbows. She crossed her fingers beneath the jacket and hoped that he would beckon her to stay. That he would rush over to her and cup her face in his hands and kiss her breathless. That he would put a video in his VCR and coax her to the couch and order take-out and hold her until she fell asleep in his arms.

"Yeah, I guess so."

She sighed and uncrossed her fingers.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Her face brightened. "You want to see me tomorrow?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "To… get my jacket back?"

"Oh. Oh, right, of course."

"If it's done, of course. It sometimes takes a few days…"

She nodded. "Well, I'm sure we'll run into each other either way. I mean, we always seem to, right?"

He smiled crookedly. "Sure seems that way."

"Great! So, then, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Er, okay, I guess so. Oda—Usagi-chan."

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the use of her name. The look of surprise strangely embarrassed Mamoru and he found himself blushing, to his own dismay.

Turning away, he mumbled, "Thanks again for the cookies."

Her feeling of surprise melted away to elation and Usagi beamed up at the man, though he didn't see it. "You're so welcome. Goodnight, Mamoru-san."

"'Night."

He held the door for her but couldn't bring himself to watch her go and couldn't understand why he felt so awkward when she was being nice to him. Closing the door behind her, he slowly walked to the coffee table and picked up a cookie. It melted in his mouth, still warm from the oven, and he couldn't help but smile.

This side of Usagi was beyond strange, to say the least, and though he couldn't help hoping that things would return to normal soon, he sort of, kind of liked it.

Though he knew she was only trying to apologize, it almost felt like having a friend.

---

Usagi couldn't help herself.

Two blocks from the apartment building, she slid her arms into the sleeves of the green jacket and buried her nose into the lapel. She stopped walking for a moment, content to stand and memorize the slight scratching of the wool against her skin and the warm weight of it pressing down on her shoulders and the scent that was a foreign mix between chocolate and cologne. Swooning, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.

"Cookies," she read aloud, "check. Apology, check. Show him your domestic-slash-would make a good wife side, in progress."