A/N: Sorry for the delay. I was in charge of an event at church that took a lot of prep work and I slept pretty much the whole weekend to recover. Plus my kids have decided that they no longer need to sleep. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this newest installment!

Please review!

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon and all characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi.

Mamoru

"Mamoru."

"Usagi."

Our curt greetings hung suspended in the air by the palpable tension that filled the room. Ikuko and I sat on one green couch, Usagi sat opposite us on the other. My own body language was mirrored by Usagi: arms crossed, legs crossed, eyes boring holes into each other's forehead. Ikuko, on the other hand, sat politely with her ankles crossed and hands resting gracefully in her lap, but her face was turned to mine in bewilderment, her eyes screaming "what the hell is wrong with you that you're being so cold to this amazingly handsome young man that has come all the way over here to see you on a Saturday morning?"

There were several confusing emotions wrestling inside of me, each struggling to come out on top while I fought to keep them all at bay. I felt guilty for hurting her. I was angry at how she had treated me. I was still embarrassed by the whole situation. Yet I was excited to see her again. And I was undeniably attracted to this person that now saw across from me, with their black locks dangling dangerously over their deep blue eyes, the set of their angular jaw tense with irritation, and toned, tanned arms crossed over their broad chest. And it was totally freaking me out. I kept trying to rationalize it, telling myself I only felt this way because I knew it was Usagi inside of that body, but that was only half of it. I was becoming more and more in tune with this body I was in. It was beginning to feel less like I was visiting in a vacation rental and more like I was living at home. And that scared me, too.

I couldn't tell what Usagi was thinking. Was she struggling with similar emotions? Or did she absolutely hate me now? The fact that she came here to see me was a good sign, wasn't it? Maybe, deep down, she wanted to see me as badly as I wanted to see her.

And then what about last night's dream? Who was the woman I had been searching for? And how did this fit in with my feelings for Usagi?

Ikuko finally broke the silence.

"Mamoru, it's so nice to finally meet you. It's not very often that Usagi has such handsome visitors." She beamed warmly at the young man that had come to see her daughter and I watched as a red flush spread across Usagi's cheeks.

"To be honest," she replied, her glare shifting slightly to meet my eyes, "I thought I was going to see Usagi last night."

Ikuko stifled a small gasp. "Really?" She turned to me. "You didn't tell me you had a date, Usagi."

I shrugged coolly, "I thought you had cancelled it."

"I never said that," she retorted, not missing a beat.

Ikuko's eyes flickered between the two of us, trying to decipher what was being left unsaid.

"My mistake," I offered with another shrug.

"Well, why don't you two go out today instead?" Ikuko suggested, unwilling to let such a rare opportunity slip past her admittedly hopeless daughter.

"I'm busy." The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. Why did I say that? I very much wanted to spend the day with Usagi. She raised her eyebrows at me.

"No, she's not." Damn. I thought Ikuko was on my side.

"Perfect," Usagi agreed, rising to her feet.

"Why don't you grab a change of clothes and we'll get out of here."

"What?"

It was a new voice. A male voice. A father's voice.

Oh no.

Kenji had entered the room and now stood behind me, the newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, seething at the man who had just suggested his little girl bring spare clothes before he whisked her off to god knows where. Very smooth, Usagi. Every muscle in her body was tense as her own father glowered at her, eyes flaming.

"And just why would my baby girl need a change of clothes to go on a date with you?" he demanded.

"I-uh-well, you see-" she stammered incoherently before Ikuko came to the rescue.

"Relax dear," she soothed, crossing to her husband and placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Usagi is going to spend the night with Rei after their date. Mamoru is just going to drop her off. Right?" She gave Usagi a pointed look.

"Uh-right! I know the shrine is a ways away, so I would be happy to give Usagi a ride."

"A ride?" This time he hollered at me. "You know the rules! No riding in cars with boys!"

"I know," I said, trying to appease the demon raging inside of Kenji.. "He's just going to walk me over. Like an escort. Okay?"

The fury in Kenji's eyes died out as he came to accept the explanation. I struggled to hide my own amazement at Ikuko's interjection, though. This mom really wanted her daughter to get some.

"Oh," Kenji murmured. "Well, alright, then. But don't keep her out too late, okay?" He sipped his coffee and shuffled out of the room without another glance at the boy.

"Of course," Usagi replied to no one in particular.

And with a nod from Ikuko, I hurried up the stairs to pack a fresh bag of clothing, remembering that all of my toiletries were still at the apartment. With much more ease than the last time I packed a bag for Usagi, I selected a dainty lavender dress and a pair of sandals and tossed both into a sizable white purse before changing into a cute, pink skirt and matching top. The creak of the bedroom door behind me caused me to turn and I found Ikuko creeping into the room.

"Mom?"

"Hey, honey. Listen." She sat on the bed and patted the mattress next to her, signaling for me to sit. I obeyed. "I didn't realize you had already developed such a mature relationship with that boy."

My cheeks burned as I tried to protest. "No, it's not like that-"

"It's okay, honey. You're a big girl and you can make your own decisions." Her hand squeezed my knee and she smiled at me as she continued. "I just want to know that you're being responsible."

"You have the wrong idea," I insisted. "We're not-"

"You don't have to keep it a secret. I'm not judging you. But I would warn that boy to be more careful of what he says when your father is around." She winked. "Just tell me that you're being safe? Or do you need me to take you to get birth control?"

I didn't think it was possible for my face to get any redder, but it did, the flush now spreading from shoulder to shoulder in my utter embarrassment.

"That's not necessary," I said.

"Okay, so he has condoms then?"

I wanted nothing more than for this conversation to be over.

"Yep." I did, actually. They were hidden in my sock drawer. Not that I had ever had any use for them. The idea of using them now in our unique predicament was both intriguing and unsettling.

"Okay. Good girl." She patted my head between the odangos and stood, heading for the door. "Oh, and Usa?" She hesitated in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Have fun."

Usagi and I strolled leisurely down the streets of the Juban district as we headed toward the apartment. The season was beginning to shift and the air carried a slight chill, crisp with the sweet, earthy scent of autumn. The sun shone brightly above and kept me warm enough for now, but I wondered if I shouldn't have packed a cardigan to go along with my dress for tomorrow.

"You never came home last night."

I knew she didn't mean that the way it sounded, but something inside of my stomach tingled at her words, at the idea of the two of us sharing a home and all that it implied. Especially the suggestion that maybe she had wanted me to come home to her last night.

"I didn't think you wanted me there." I had been trying to give her space after the youma battle that had ended in a personal one.

She was quiet for a moment before she spoke and I wondered what was running through her brain.

"I didn't want to be alone," she admitted.

Her words struck me as a near perfect echo of the words I had heard in my dream. Could it be? Surely not.

"I'm sorry. I would have come if I had known you wanted me there." My feet were suddenly very interesting as they shuffled along the pavement, loose stones tumbling out of my path.

We continued in silence for most of the walk, both of us staring at our shoes. My heart was pounding away in my chest like a jackhammer and I could actually feel each pulse of blood in my fingertips. Did her body-my body-feel as electrically charged as I did right now?

"You know," she finally began, "Ami had an interesting theory about how to fix this...situation." I looked at her. She was still looking at her feet.

"Oh?" I encouraged.

She grunted in the affirmative, but didn't continue.

"What is it?"

I guess her feet were no longer holding her attention because she turned her gaze across the street, watching a couple holding hands as they strolled in the opposite direction down the sidewalk. I could barely hear her when she spoke again.

"She thinks we should try to get closer." I noted the slight blush creeping slowly across what little of her face I could see.

"Closer?" I repeated. That could mean a million different things. But by the way Usagi was blushing, I was pretty confident in how it was intended.

Suddenly, my hand was in hers. Usagi was holding my hand. Well, clutching it would be a more accurate statement. Her fingers weaved through mine and pressed our palms together with such determination that it was actually rather painful. But I didn't pull away. My heart rate increased from a jackhammer to a bullet train and I could feel our palms getting sticky with perspiration. But I didn't pull away. She held her arm out stiffly from her body, elbow fixed in place, in an effort to touch me as little as possible. But I didn't pull away.

Usagi was holding my hand.

And we continued that way for the rest of the walk to the apartment, not speaking, not looking at each other, my hand in hers. I was happy to be holding hands with Usagi. And there was something magical about the feeling of her large fingers protecting my miniature ones. She didn't let go as we entered the building, not as we rode the elevator up to the twelfth floor, not as we walked down the blur of a hallway. She only released me to fumble for her keys and unlock the door, and my hand ached from the loss. I couldn't get inside the apartment fast enough. All I could think about was getting my hand back into hers.

Usagi

I sat on the sofa and immediately he was beside me. I was hyper aware of both hands resting idly on his lap, just waiting to be held. My own hands twitched, itching for his, and eventually I gave in to the longing and took both of his petite hands in mine. An involuntary sigh escaped my lips at the soothing sensation of his touch.

"Is this too weird?" I asked, meeting his eyes for the first time since leaving the house.

"No," he answered meekly. "It's actually kind of nice." My lips twitched up into a smile as his words brought back the memory of waking up with him cradled against my chest the morning before.

"I think so, too," I agreed, watching fondly as he turned a pretty shade of pink.

Ami had made several suggestions of how Mamoru and I could attempt to become closer, one of which was, of course, a kiss. At first, I was vehemently opposed. I would never kiss that baka. No matter how badly I may have wanted to at an earlier, less complicated time in my life. And I definitely could not kiss myself. The idea was absurd, revolting, and crass. But looking at him now, tucked safely away inside that feminine frame, the idea didn't seem so ridiculous. On the contrary, it was rather tempting.

Staring into his eyes was like gazing into the sky on a clear summer day, warm and inviting, and I wanted to leap right in. Instinctively, I began to lean forward. He licked his lips and his long lashes fluttered closed as the space between us narrowed. This was it. I was going to kiss Mamoru for the first time.

To be more precise, this would be my very first kiss. Ever.

He smelled amazing. Like fresh cut roses. And everything inside of this body was aching for him.

The second before our lips met, I pulled back. I just couldn't do it. Not like this.

Mamoru, totally unaware of my retreat, continued to lean in, anticipating our faces to connect. And when they didn't, he lost his balance. His eyes flew open and searched frantically for me as he tumbled head first off the sofa, arms flailing, and smacking his forehead square on the coffee table.

"Oooowieeee!"

"Oh, God, Mamo, are you okay?"

He was sitting on the floor, knees splayed to either side with his feet sticking out even farther, forming a wide "W." His hand was rubbing the tender spot on his head that was quickly forming a bruise.

"What the hell what that!" He jumped to his feet and rounded on me, unfortunately catching a toe on the leg of the table in the process. "Ahh!" He reached for his toe and bounced up and down for a moment as he balanced on one of his tiny feet, clad only in a pair of white socks.

As soon as I realized the dangerous recipe of hopping on one sheathed foot on a slippery wooden floor, it was too late, and I watched helplessly as he fell to the ground once again, this time landing hard on his backside.

What a spectacular show of clumsiness and humiliation. Oh my god. Is that what I looked like to people?

I knew what came next. It would be the water works. Mamoru would cry uncontrollably, squealing like a stuck pig, and nothing would console him. That's what I always did, anyway.

But that's not what happened. Without another word, Mamoru rose from his unfortunate position on the ground and stalked silently into the bedroom, rubbing his behind, and shut the door with a resolute click.

What the hell was that?

I spent the next hour trying in vain to lure Mamoru from the bedroom. I tried apologizing, coaxing, and even threatening, but to no avail. At one point, I thought I had a breakthrough when I attempted to bribe him out with a chocolate bar. The door had cracked open and I let my guard down, assuming it was a success. I was unprepared, however, for the impossibly quick flash of fingers that darted out from behind the door, stole the chocolate from my hand, and disappeared again. My attempt to catch those fingers had only resulted in one of mine being trapped by the door as it shut with surprising force, driving a swear from my lips as Mamoru chuckled darkly on the other side. Jerk.

Eventually, I abandoned my efforts. If he didn't want to come out, fine. There was nothing I could do about it. I sat on the floor and leaned my back against the door. How were we supposed to get closer if we weren't even in the same room?

I pinched the bridge of my nose, considering my chances of slipping in through the window undetected in the broad daylight. They were slim. He probably would have locked the window by now, too.

When he finally spoke, he startled me. His tiny voice was just on the other side of the door, as if he was mirroring my position, his own back up against the chill wood.

"Tell me about your mom."

"My mom?" That came out of nowhere. Why did he want to know about her?

"Yeah."

Well, this had been one of Ami's suggestions. We could spend time getting to know one another better. I couldn't do any more harm at this point, anyway.

"Well. Her name is Ikuko. She's thirty-eight. Had me when she was twenty-two, only a year after she married my dad." I wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for.

"What did she do before she met him?" came the muffled reply.

"She was an aspiring singer." My mother had a lovely voice. I had been absolutely spoiled by her lullabies as a child.

"Really?" He sounded shocked.

"Yes. She had dropped out of college to pursue a career in music. She was singing in bars and clubs to gain experience when she met my dad." I smiled at what I had always considered a romantic love story between my parents. "He was a few years older and already a successful businessman when they met at a bar one night and he swept her off her feet."

"Why didn't she keep singing?" he asked.

I rested my head against the door. "She tried to, for a while. My dad was always really supportive. But when she got pregnant with me, she got really sick and it was hard for her to go out. And then, when I was born, she decided she would rather stay home and take care of me."

"You don't think she could have done both?" Did he sound almost angry?

"I guess she could have. But from what she always told me, she just couldn't tear herself away from Shingo and me. Not that it was hard on us, but that it was too hard for her. She couldn't bear to leave us. And she knew that eventually it wouldn't be just one or two nights a week, it would become traveling for a few weeks at a time, maybe even tours if she was really successful. And she didn't want to do that. She wanted to be with us."

Mamoru considered my story on the other side of the door and I wondered what he was thinking.

"Does she ever sing anymore?"

I smiled. "Not a lot, but sometimes. We still have that piano in the living room. I hear her play and sing every now and then when she thinks we're all asleep. Maybe she sings more when we're not home." I shrugged. "I think she's afraid of making my dad sad. He always felt guilty that she gave up her dream."

"But it wasn't his fault," he objected.

"No, it wasn't. But he loves her. And I think a part of him wonders if she wouldn't be happier if he hadn't come along and bumped her off track." I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my chin on my knees. "He's not a bad guy, you know. Just very protective."

"I can understand that."

That reminded me of something.

"Did you punch Maeda Ren?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He tried to touch you."

That was an interesting choice of words. And very telling. Mamoru had been the one in my body. He could have said "he tried to touch me," but he didn't. He really had been thinking of me. Protecting me.

"Well, thank you," I offered.

"Don't mention it," he grumbled.

"Is your hand okay?" I wondered.

"It was pretty sore for a while there, but your super powers sped up the healing process quite a bit." I was glad to hear that part was still working. "Is it my turn again?"

"Your turn?" I echoed.

"It kinda seems like we're playing 'Truth.'" He was right. That would make it his turn again, too. And this was a good way to get to know each other quickly.

"Okay. Your turn."

"Have you ever been kissed?" Well, he wasn't wasting any time now.

I sighed reluctantly. "No."

"That makes sense," he chortled.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"It makes sense why you chickened out."

"I did not chicken out!" I argued.

"Then why didn't you kiss me?" he responded, just as indignant.

"Because! I wasn't kissing you, I was kissing me! And it was just too weird!"

The answering laugh was boisterous and jovial. He was enjoying this too much. But at least he wasn't offended.

"My turn!" I barked.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "What's your question?"

"How many girls have you kissed?" Part of me wanted to know, but the other part hoped he didn't answer.

"Just one." That wasn't too bad. But I still was irrationally disappointed. "Only I didn't really kiss her. She kissed me."

"What's the difference?"

He laughed again. If he was in such a good mood, then why was he still hiding?

"The difference is that I did not want to be kissed."

"Oh." My jealousy faded. "Unrequited love?" I theorized.

"Something like that."

"That happens to you a lot, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

I remembered the love note I had been passed yesterday. "I forgot to give you something. Check your nightstand."

The sounds of shuffling feet and crinkling paper signaled that he had found the note that the poor girl had written him and was now reading it. How would he react?

"Another one?" He sounded annoyed. Of course, he must get a love letter from a different girl every week.

"What?" was all I said.

His voice wasn't as close as it had been before when he elaborated. "This is the third note I've received from Suto Emiko. I keep telling her that I'm not interested, but she keeps recruiting people to pass me these horrid things."

So he wasn't interested. That was a relief. And suddenly I didn't feel so sorry for her anymore.

"I guess we both know what that feels like," I sympathized.

"At least Suto never cornered me on the roof to make a pass at me." His irritation level was rising again and I decided it was time to change the subject.

"Your turn."

His voice was closer. "Is it okay if I come out now?"

"Is that your question?"

He giggled. "No. I just realized that I'm being foolish. I have no reason to be hiding in here. I blame your body."

The door cracked and an adorable head peered down at me, blue eyes the size of her odangos. My breath caught in my chest.

"S-sure," I stuttered, getting to my feet. "You're the one that locked yourself in there in the first place."

He flashed me a smile and my heart stuttered along with me.

"I know. But I think we'd be a lot more comfortable on the sofa."

I followed him to the leather sofa where we sat together. He shuddered as the cool material touched his bare legs and he leaned into me reflexively. Without even thinking, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to my chest as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And once again, he didn't protest. It felt nice to be cuddling with Mamoru again, even if I was the big spoon. What was this odd relationship we were developing?

His fingers found their way into mine. "So, my turn?"

I assented with a grunt, not sure if I could actually form words right now.

"What's the worst part about being trapped in my body?"

My first thought was the intense loneliness I felt whenever he wasn't around. And the uncontrollable rage that filled me when anything threatened us. But his grin was playful, so I decided on an equally playful, yet still truthful, answer.

"Your...you-know-what." It had been almost three days of being stuck in this boy body and I still couldn't say the word.

"My 'you-know-what?'" he repeated, daring me to explain.

"Yes. You know what I'm talking about," I snipped.

"Well, I have an idea, but I can't really be sure unless you say it." He smiled impishly.

I groaned and shoved him off of me. "Fine! It's your penis! Are you happy?"

His lips pursed into a fake pout. "Happy that you're disappointed in my penis? Not exactly."

I was certain he knew all too well that disappointment was not the issue.

"That's not what I said."

"Oh, so you're pleased then?" He beamed triumphantly.

"Oh, shut up! Every time things are going good, you have to ruin it." I offered my own false pout this time.

"Oh, Usa," he crooned in the most patronizing way. "I'm sorry. It's just so fun to tease you." He reached for my hand again and I gave it begrudgingly before he sidled up next to me, falling back into our previous position.

"Is it my turn now?" I grumbled.

"Yes, it's your turn. Ask away."

I should give him a taste of his own medicine.

"What's the best thing about being trapped in my body?" After I asked this, I suddenly realized my mistake. I had just set him up in the perfect position to tease me again. He could easily say something vulgar like putting on my bra every morning. I steeled myself for his sure to be lewd answer.

"That's easy. The best part of this whole thing is that I get to spend so much time with you."

I wasn't expecting that. I chanced a glance down at him and found him snuggling deeper into my chest. As strange as it was to be looking at myself, I had to admit that I liked this picture of golden odangos resting against my midnight t-shirt.

Wait a minute. Did I just call my hair buns odangos!?

Once again, what could have been a perfect moment was instantly shattered. A vase falling to the floor and scattering its roses in a hundred directions against impassible shards of broken glass.

"Mamo, I don't think-"

I was interrupted by the chirping of my communicator. Holding the watch-like face up for a better look, I found Ami's visage staring back at me, her voice crackling slightly through the signal.

"Everyone, there's a youma at Juban Park. It's targeting the children's puppet show on the west side."

Each of the Senshi's faces appeared briefly as they confirmed their departure and then it was Ami looking at me again.

"Usagi. Is Mamoru with you?"

"Yes."

"Good, we're going to need him, too. Get here as soon as you can." She flickered out of sight leaving behind a sense of urgency.

Mamoru was looking up at me from his resting place against my chest with wide, searching eyes.

"Well," he said. "Duty calls."