Disclaimer: They're not mine. But it doesn't mean I can't twist their lives to my own demented will.

AN: I didn't expect another Mamoru/Usagi one-shot to come to me so quickly.


I didn't expect the sequel, on the next chapter, to come to me so quickly either!


It'd started innocently enough. Motoki had made a not-so helpful comment in the middle of one of their spats. It'd sent him reeling and there was little else he could do but become shell-shocked at what had been suggested. So now he stood on the street with an empty coffee cup in one hand and a mind full of racing thoughts. It had begun with something ridiculous, like always.

It was the middle of finals week and he was utterly burnt out. His only hope for sanity lay with a quiet, soothing cup of coffee and the cheerful encouragement of his best friend. Of course such chances became immediately slim when she had stormed into the arcade and sat determinately at her favorite video-game station.

"Stupid Haruna-sensei! Good for nothing?! I'll show her! Today's the day I beat this game!"

A part of him panged at the thought that his Odango had been told she was good for nothing. But he had already promised himself that there would be no wandering thoughts of the underage rabbit today. He had enough to stress to deal with and endeavors into thoughts of statutory rape would not help him any. Though he had to admit, the look of determination on her face was fetching.

That same determination quickly became less fetching as the minutes wore on. Screaming, no, howling at the console she stood up and kicked at the air in frustration. One of her shoes, eternally too-big for her foot, came off and landed directly on his head. She gasped softly and for a second he allowed himself to admire the curves of her mouth before his brain registered the pain of the impact.

"Watch it Odango-atama! Just because there's nothing in your head doesn't mean you launch attacks against those of us with brains in ours."

Her eyes watered a little and a wave of guilt washed over him. Briefly he considered wrapping the injured rabbit in his arms and letting out all he had been holding in. It was a ridiculous thought of course and he pushed it away the only way he knew how. He stood and ignored the looks that Motoki, her friends and the other residents of the arcade were giving him. Running his free-hand lazily through his hair he tried his best to infuse his words with venom,

"Congratulations to your sensei for finally figuring out you're a good-for-nothing. I, of course, figured it out ages ago."

He'd gone too far, he knew, but there was no turning back. She was seething and every inch of her seemed to expand with resounding rage. It would have been cute if said rage wasn't directed at him. "Just admit it, Mamoru-baka! You only pick on me so that everyone else will finally pay attention to you! God knows you can't get noticed on your own! And we all know how much you love attention!"

"Oh yes." He said in a long drawl, leaning forward in an attempt to intimidate the young blonde in front of him. "I love getting into collisions every morning. I love having shoes, bookbags and tests with scores under 50% thrown at my head. I love that I can't even come to drink a cup of coffee without hearing your lovely voice hammering away at the Sailor V machine! I love it so-o-o-o very much, Odango. In fact! I think I just plain love you."

He was being ridiculous himself now but he couldn't think of anything else to say. There had been a slight truth to her accusation. He did pick on her for attention. But it wasn't everyone else's attention he had been after, he suddenly realized, it was her own. Motoki seemed to pick up on this fact and leaning casually over the counter he sent his best friend a wicked grin. "Well if you love her so much why don't you marry her?"

Mamoru had just enough grace to stand there for a few seconds. After gathering himself he managed to fake a shudder and walk out of the arcade, coffee cup still in hand. By the time he was down the street most of its contents had been spilt by the shaky motions of a man who had been rocked to his core. He suddenly had no idea what to think, do or say and it scared the hell out of him. Why? Because, upon hearing it, Motoki's suggestion hadn't seemed all that ridiculous to him. Not so ridiculous at all. And that: that was just plain ridiculous.

AN: Review! D: