A/N: This is my first fic. Please be kind. Wait, scratch that, be constructively mean. I'd rather not be buttered up if it's awful. But anyway...I, of course, do not own Shizuru or Natsuki.

Enjoy.

Monday morning, She woke up at six, rolled over, and gently kissed the forehead of the Woman who shared her bed. By seven She was showered, dressed, and fed. At precisely seven thirty-five, She stepped onto the familiar subway, preferring to stand than sit. Her secretary looked up at a minute to eight to greet Her as She walked into Her office, and followed Her with another cup of tea for the morning, brewed slightly too strong and containing far too much sugar for Her tastes. From eight to twelve She worked. At noon, She walked the seven minutes to a café and ordered a salad, and by one She was back in Her office, working once more.

At five, She stood up, threw on Her coat, politely wished Her secretary a good evening, and made Her way back to the subway. She was home by five thirty.

After changing out of Her dreadfully uncomfortable suit, She sat down to a quiet dinner. She watched TV for an hour, read for half of one, and then proceeded to sit in Her favorite chair until ten, staring blankly at a wall of photos. With eyes half shut, She shuffled to Her room, lay down on the left side of the bed, and buried Her nose in the pillow. She fell asleep surrounded by the smell of that pillow.

Sometime around three, the sound of roaring grew slowly outside for twenty seconds before shutting off abruptly. A door opened and shut, footsteps sounded, and, as She woke up more, She picked up the sounds of a zipper. When footsteps again could be heard, She quickly rolled over from the left side of the bed to the right, attempting to imitate a natural sleeping position. The door to Her bedroom opened, and the Woman tiptoed over the threshold. As quietly as possible, the Woman attempted to avoid bouncing the mattress while slipping under the covers on the left side. Once settled, the Woman slipped her arms around the Her, holding herself flush against Her back and burying her nose in Her hair. The woman gently kissed Her neck, unaware that She was awake.

Tuesday morning, She woke up at six, rolled over, and gently kissed the forehead of the Woman who shared her bed.

Wednesday was much the same.

Thursday and Friday were awfully similar.

Saturday was almost a repeat; She didn't make it back until seven that night, and the Woman didn't make it back until four-thirty. She was so tired that she didn't wake when the Woman returned in order to roll back to Her side of the bed. The Woman, rather than switch sides, tucked herself carefully into the four remaining inches of mattress on her side of the bed before gently rolling Her on top of herself, falling asleep with Her head on her chest. The Woman smiled.

Sunday morning, Shizuru woke up at 9:17. Lifting her head lazily from Natsuki's chest, she smiled genuinely for the first time in seven days. Careful not to disturb Natsuki, she disentangled herself and rose, ambling to the kitchen. Putting the kettle on, she shuffled about the kitchen, pulling out a pan here, taking out a dish there, and removing eggs, tomatoes, onions, and cheese from the fridge. When the kettle began to whistle, she took out her favorite brand of tea and brewed herself a perfect batch.

Savoring her first sip, Shizuru relaxed, eyes closed. It was a good minute before she opened them again. Immediately setting down her cup, she set about making first coffee and then omelets.

A little before ten, Natsuki stumbled out of the bedroom wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt. Stumbling a little as she made her way to the living room, she inhaled deeply; she loved the smell of Shizuru's cooking. Sitting down in her favorite chair, she looked up at the wall before her. It was covered in photos of Shizuru and herself.

Natsuki hadn't long to wait before two warm arms snaked around her from behind, one holding a mug of coffee and a tube of mayo, the other a plate of food. Blushing lightly as she felt Shizuru brush her lips against her cheek, Natsuki reached her right hand up behind her to gently caress the soft skin she found there. Taking the food and drink, she waited for Shizuru to walk around the chair and sit daintily in her lap.

"I missed you."

"I…I missed you too, Shizuru." Natsuki blushed faintly once more.

They ate their food from the same plate that morning, sitting in the same chair. They spent the entire day together, talking, laughing, teasing and being teased. At five, Natsuki suited up and drove Shizuru and herself to the nearest beach on her Ducati, from which they watched the sky turn a beautiful scarlet. When they made it back home, they kissed and touched until their body's felt so alive with love that the moment seemed timeless. Emerald eyes met crimson ones, crimson met emerald, and together they found release.

Almost ready to fall asleep, Natsuki turned to Shizuru. "I…I think I almost have that promotion. I should get moved to that earlier shift soon. I'd get off at four in the afternoon, I think…" Shizuru felt her eyes tear up a little, looking up at her lover.

"Really?" She asked softly, her words almost lost to the quiet.

Natsuki looked off to the side, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah…my paycheck should increase a bit…" Shizuru waited, "…and I'd be home more." Natsuki turned back, looking deep into Shizuru's eyes. "We'd get to see each other more." The tears began to fall freely down Shizuru's face, her smile bright beneath them.

"I love you, Natsuki."

Natsuki didn't blush or stutter this time, but spoke confidently, if gently. "I love you too, Shizuru."

They kissed briefly, pulling each other close for one moment more. Then Shizuru reached behind her. She set her alarm for six. Staying facing the edge of the mattress, she scooted back. Natsuki pulled her flush against her front, wrapping her arms tightly around Shizuru, and buried her nose in Shizuru's hair. She fell asleep surrounded by Shizuru's scent.

Monday morning, She woke up at six, rolled over, and gently kissed the forehead of the Woman who shared her bed. By seven She was showered, dressed, and fed. At precisely seven thirty-five, She stepped onto the familiar subway, preferring to stand than sit. Her secretary looked up at a minute to eight to greet Her as She walked into Her office, and followed Her with another cup of tea for the morning, brewed slightly too strong and containing far too much sugar for Her tastes. From eight to twelve She worked. At noon, She walked the seven minutes to a café and ordered a salad, and by one She was back in Her office, working once more.

At five, She stood up, threw on Her coat, politely wished Her secretary a good evening, and made Her way back to the subway. She was home by five thirty.

After changing out of Her dreadfully uncomfortable suit, She sat down to a quiet dinner. She watched TV for an hour, read for half of one, and then proceeded to sit in Her favorite chair. She smiled brightly, unable to help Herself; there was a new frame hung on the wall. Two pictures had been cut to the same size and framed together, one of Her, one of the Woman. The Woman was looking to the left and She was looking to the right. They appeared to be gazing at each other, their smiles soft and eyes warm. There was a note beneath the frame:

'I just got a call. I'll know by the end of the day.'

She gazed at those words for an hour, for two, for more, until a roar began to grow outside, for twenty seconds before shutting off abruptly. A door opened and shut, footsteps sounded, and sounds of a zipper could faintly be heard. She refused to turn around, instead choosing to wait until the Woman came to her. She stared straight at the pictures before her and the note beneath, wringing Her hands and desperately hopeful.

Two warm arms snaked over her shoulders. "Shizuru?" the Woman called.

"Yes?" She answered, Her voice almost strangled.

"What do you say I make you dinner next Monday?" The Woman's voice was light, cheerful.

"I'd say there better not be mayo in my peas."

The Woman blushed lightly. "Mayoless peas, check. Anything else?"

"Promise me that I'm not dreaming?"

"Promise."

Tuesday morning, She woke up at six, rolled over, and gently kissed the forehead of the Woman who shared her bed.

Wednesday was much the same.

Thursday and Friday were awfully similar.

Saturday was energetic, but the schedule repeated all the same.

Sunday, Shizuru and Natsuki barely left their room, let alone their house.

And Monday, well…for the first Monday in three years, Kuga Natsuki came home at four thirty in the afternoon rather than the morning. She diligently prepared a simple meal of fish and rice, with a small bowl of peas, Shizuru's favorite meal. By five thirty the table was set. By five thirty-one, she was happily engaged in the lip lock of the century.

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