Week 1E: Picnic
Sailor Raspberry
497 words
It was eleven in the morning, and she could not see the sun. It was hiding, she concluded silently, behind a jumble of dark, angry clouds that sparked with bolts of electricity.
She tightened her grip on the picnic basket.
It was then that the rain began to fall, quickly and without a purpose. They splattered against the window, and as she pressed one tiny palm against the glass, she watched mist gather around the edges of her fingers. The basket found its way to the floor.
Behind her, Mamoru shuffled around, and as he shambled through a drawer, lightning struck the ground and the electricity buzzed out.
The room plunged into a shadowed darkness, and though her skin crawled at that realization, she stepped around the basket and sank down onto the couch.
Mamoru felt his way over to her, stubbing his toe in the process, and settled himself beside her dejected, slumped form. He smiled at her, teasingly, and ran his fingers through her bangs. "What's the matter? The thunder too much?"
Usagi pouted and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "When I become queen, remind me to come up with something to control this weather. It is completely unorthodox." She pinched her face up as he draped a long arm around her shoulders. "I stole some of mom's chocolate cake for this and everything. Now we can't even have our picnic."
He chuckled, patting the hair between her odangos. Thunder split the sky in two. "Who said anything about not having one?"
Usagi pursed her lips and looked up at him. The rain continued to dance across the windowpane. A shadow darkened his cheekbones, casting a dark silhouette over the bridge of his nose. The blueness of his eyes had never looked so bright.
Mamoru smiled at her – that one tweaking of lips that he saved just for her – disentangled himself from around her neck, and stood. Lightning struck, igniting the room in a blazing white light. His eyes found the basket.
Usagi reclined back and curled her legs up beneath her, watching as he shuffled about in his slippers, clearing off the coffee table and placing the basket neck to it. She watched as his long, slender fingers smoothed a red checkered tablecloth over the glass, leveling frisky bumps with patient movements. He caught her eye as he straightened, and with a wink, disappeared into the kitchen.
With one backward glance over her shoulder, she slipped to the carpet and peered beneath the wicker lid. Her stomach grumbled.
Thirty minutes later, after ten candles unearthed themselves and their meal was thoroughly eaten, Mamoru reached over and unwrapped a slice of cake.
He dipped his fork into the frosting, scooping up a good sized clump, and reached over to offer it to Usagi's smiling mouth.
Usagi blushed at such flattery, pleased with his ministrations. And as another smile bloomed across her face, she pushed the cake away and decided to taste his lips instead.