Disclaimer: I dis the claim to anything at all Sailor Moon oriented. Again.
A/N: Well, it has been a while! (Sorry, I got writer's block). So that you can go straight to the story, I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Make certain you read the notices in the first chapter! They're rather important. I wouldn't have written them there if there weren't.
Also: Thank you, to all my fabulous reviewers! It is you who kept me writing this chapter!
No, really. If I hadn't known you were out there waiting, this chapter would never have been finished.
So, with that, what I know many of you have been waiting for (and my personal favorite pairing)…the Ami/Zoi chapter!:
Engagement: Bluebell
Ami Mizuno never gave flowers much thought.
A least, not of her own volition. They were plants, they were pretty, and she had far more important things to do than to discern a favorite from among the many varieties of flora that she was so infrequently presented with.
Whenever she was confronted with the dilemma of choosing flowers for some occasion (For instance, after one of Mina's amateur theatrical performances, or a formal dinner Lita was arranging that needed last minute centerpieces) she never thought about what she like the best, but instead what Mina would enjoy, or what would look best with Lita's décor.
As it was, she invariably chose chrysanthemums. They were the staple of the generic, ever-adequate floral bouquet. They were pretty, sturdy, marginally cheap, lived relatively long, could always be found in any flower shop, and came in a variety of different colors. There was nothing risky about mums, nothing fragile, nothing objectionable at all.
Ami did not really analyze her reasons for always buying chrysanthemums (as a medical student, she had far more interesting things to analyze), but, if she had, she would have been able to boil it down simply: chrysanthemums do not make a statement.
But even in all that time using them, Ami grew no particular attachment to mums.
In fact, it didn't even occur to her that she ought to have any emotional preferences for a particular breed of flower until her senior prom date (the identity of whom was all but irrelevant, since he had basically been bribed into the capacity by her well-meaning friends) asked her—in a very polite manner—what sort of flowers she would like him to bring her.
Her reply was a surprised pause, a bit of a stutter, and finally, a very definite "chrysanthemums."
Her reasoning behind the choice—for, whether she analyzed it or not, she had at least one sensible reason for almost everything she did—was that mums were easy to come by and relatively cheap and made life easier for him.
In other words, she suggested them because it was simpler to do so, not because she particularly liked them.
However, studious Ami Mizuno was rather a creature of habit, and, therefore, the placement of chrysanthemums as her "favorite" flower remained.
***
The first flowers he gave her were bluebells, and she was not fond of them.
Bluebells were, after all, droopy little things—they always hung their heads towards the floor as though they didn't think they were pretty enough to show their faces to the world. Ami was not the sort of girl to be attracted to insecure people, and she was certainly not the sort to be attracted to insecure flowers.
Even Nick agreed that they looked "like they're dead."
So it is unsurprising that Ami found them rather depressing. But, at the time she had been far more interested in things other than Zach's floral choices.
Furthermore, it didn't really matter what flowers he had given her, since she had accidentally left them sitting on a small table in the back corner of the café where they had met for their first date. Ami supposed that someone had found them—likely drooping woefully among broken ceramic plate shards—and had discarded the sad little things.
That was all well and good, but he just kept on giving her bluebells! Ami was under the distinct impression that it really shouldn't be this frustrating, after all, they were only flowers, but she just couldn't bring herself to explain to her boyfriend that whenever he handed her bluebells it felt like he was giving her a symbol of pathos and insecurity.
So it was with great trepidation that, one day when Zach was lounging on her apartment's obnoxiously white couch, she swallowed her nervousness and said quietly, "Zach, we have to talk."
Zach, needless to say, immediately dropped his hands from their places fixing his ponytail and flashed her with a look much akin to a startled deer about to be run over with a very large truck. The effect of the look was further heightened by his wavy blond hair falling long on either side of his face in as close to disarray as it was prone to going.
"If you're going to break up with me, at least use a better line."
It was only then that Ami realized just how ominous she had sounded, and she giggled. A few seconds later her giggle was cut off by guilt as she noticed real traces of fear behind the flippant comment.
"No, no, no. I'm not breaking up with you." She walked over to where he was sitting, and, plopping down next to him, patted him on the head a little condescendingly (she stifled another giggle), "I just think I ought to tell you already. You see, I don't like bluebells."
Zach stared at her with perplexed green eyes, and Ami thought that that did, indeed, sound a bit ridiculous now that it was out of her mouth, and not nearly important enough for her to have been worried about saying it.
"You mean you just terrified me out of my wits over nothing more serious than your floral preferences!?" Zack stood up, looming over the petite young woman.
Ami just looked up, not perturbed in the least, "Well, yes. Sorry about that."
Zach collapsed onto the couch in a heap, shoving a pillow over his face while mumbling "Sorry about that, scared me half to death thinking she's gonna do something stupid and here she is saying sorry about that, what the hell is…"
She leaned over the disgruntled lanky young man and, plucking the pillow off of his face, asked, "Did you even hear what I said?"
"No, I just heard that you were not breaking up with me. I was too relieved to listen further."
"Well I have no intention of breaking up with you anytime soon, you dolt. I happen to be in love with you. Now, I don't like bluebells."
"Really? I suppose I should stop getting them for you, then…pity."
"Pity? Why?"
"Bluebells…I think I've come to just associate you with them, Ames. I mean, I initially started getting them because they were blue, right? Actually, they were the only blue flowers the store I went to had in stock at the time." Zach sat up, searching for the words to articulate his thoughts, "But they're kind of like you, you know? You've always got your little blue head bent over, stuck in some book, and people don't think you're paying attention…but you observe everything that's going on." He ruffled her midnight blue hair, eliciting a mildly surprised squeak, "and you're modest, and you don't like it when people look at you, and you try your hardest to keep your head down and fade into the woodwork…but you're absolutely worth looking at."
"Bluebells are not pretty."
"I think they are."
"Oh? What? You? Think!?"
"You need to stop spending time with me, you're getting sarcastic."
***
Despite having brushed Zach's commentary off (Ami was never very comfortable in romantic situations, and would far rather discuss physics than flowers, a fact which Zach new well, and had probably been considering when he let her drop the subject so quickly), Ami did think about what he said.
She thought about it for the rest of his visit, and long after he'd left. She even had trouble sleeping due to Zach's bluebell views, though she did sleep eventually.
She had also never been one to lose much sleep over something as trivial as a flower.
(That being said, she would never freely admit to just how much sleep she lost that night.)
***
Ami Mizuno was clearly not expecting any visitors.
After all, Ami was not in the habit of entertaining guests while sporting an oversized, paint-smudged t-shirt (which had actually been a perfectly fit-for-company article of clothing until Serena began to feel artistic), ill-fitting old shorts, extreme bed hair, a bowl of fresh strawberries and a copy of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
She wasn't expecting any visitors, but that was the trouble with having a spontaneous boyfriend.
The doorbell rang, Ami got up, opened the door, and the next thing she knew she had been rushed inside in a whirlwind of blonde hair and black shirt and green eyes. He—for Ami had ascertained the identity of her attacker as one Zachary Tanzan, insane and spontaneous boyfriend—immediately grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the couch rather frantically, all the while shoving a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers into her arms.
Ami was about to admonish the frazzled looking man before her ("What are you thinking, barging in unannounced!? You could have at least called!"), but she was cut off as he began to speak.
"Ami. Ami, Ami, Ami. Ami."
"Yes?"
"I'm going to be brief about this, because I know that you don't like it when I'm long winded and I don't get to the point."
"I appreciate that."
"So I was going to do this very romantically—I even brought wine—but you know I have a habit of over-thinking things sometimes—hey! Don't give me that look! You do it, too!—and I kind of got myself crazy on the trip over here. And I really can't take the suspense of going through the whole romantic setup, I think I'd go crazy—I hate suspense. This is why I never watch suspense movies—and I've decided that what I really need to do is get it over with and ask already."
"I'm glad you're being so brief."
"You really are getting very sarcastic, aren't you? Give me a break, I'm nervous." And he clearly was. Oh, his impeccable state of dress showed nothing, but his hands, his hair and his eyes told Ami a more truthful story. One hand was clenched—anyone else would think in anger, Ami knew that he was embarrassed that it was sweaty with nerves and trying to hide it. His other hand was clasped around a small, velvety black box. His hair was back in its usual low ponytail, but Ami knew from the knotted, wispy look around the hair tie that he had been running his fingers through it and that it would be painful when he tried to take it out later.
His eyes were hopeful. They were a lot of other things, too, but mostly they were hopeful.
She wouldn't have been surprised if her eyes were kind of hopeful, too.
Because while her palms were dry and her hair was in no more disarray than it usually was after a day without brushing, her heart was attempting to pound its way out of her chest at the sight of that black box in his hand and her breath was coming out with an almost imperceptible shake.
"Well," her voice shook, but only very mildly, "are you going to get to the point?"
"Yes, I am."
"Then ask your question."
The words were startled out of him, "Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
There was a baffled silence.
"That was…quick. Not that I'm not elated and all, but couldn't you at least think it over a bit?"
"I thought it through while you were getting to the point. You're kind of transparent." Only now, as Ami matter-of-factly informed him that she would marry him, did Zach realize that she was blushing violently.
As he leaned into her, an enormous smile covering his face, Ami found herself murmuring, "You know, they're going to be extremely disappointed in the romance levels of this proposal."
There was no need to ask who "they" were. "They" consisted of four giggling girls with extreme romantic aspirations and one blond cousin named Jason.
"Well, they'll just have to live, because I wouldn't have it any other way." Zach replied only after having kissed her thoroughly. "Oh!" He then announced, pulling away, "And here's what I forgot to give you in my rush."
He held out the little velvety black box that, Ami now found, contained a simple silver ring that made her smile.
She unclasped her hand to—wait! Unclasped!? Ami looked down in surprise as she realized that she had been gripping a bouquet of flowers the whole time and she had only just noticed.
Zach (who was eagerly cradling the ring) noticed the bemused expression on his newly-agreed fiancée's face and, a moment later, noticed the place the expression was directed. Then, with a jolt, he remembered a discussion from about a week earlier.
Zach's joyful demeanor changed abruptly and he stuttered out, "Oh, damn! You said you didn't like bluebells, didn't you? Sorry, sorry, I was just so nervous when I went to pick out flowers, and I suppose it was just habit. You know what; you don't even have to take these. I'll bring you some better flowers—how about some nice chrysanthemums—sometime—"
For some reason, the mental image of Zachary Tanzan holding out a bouquet of multi-colored mums caused Ami to cringe, and, with an oddly affectionate smile, she took the ring from the blonde's outstretched, now-limp hand and slid it on.
With the very plain, unadorned silver ring on her left ring finger and the very blue, drooping bouquet of bluebells in her right fist, Ami cut him off:
"No, no."
"You're modest,…"
"I want the bluebells."
"…and you don't like it when people look at you,…"
"In fact,"
"…and you try your hardest to keep your head down and fade into the woodwork…"
"I've changed my mind."
"…you're absolutely worth looking at."
"You can just keep giving me bluebells."
A/N: What do you think?
By the way, the meaning of "Bluebell" is "humility," though I did not use that knowledge in writing the one-shot.
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~FB~