I don't own Sailor Moon. I could put in something witty and snappy about it, but you don't really care about the disclaimer, do you?
Mamoru was already angry when he walked into Crown Arcade. That much was certain. So Usagi felt no need to worry that he was angry at her. She hadn't said anything out of the ordinary the last time she saw him, so he had no reason to be angry at her. This only led her to more confusion. Why was Mamoru angry? There had to be a reason. Ever since she started dating him, he had only been angry when he had a reason, whereas before he had been bitter and alone.
Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Mamoru. Angry. Why?
Motoki was also formulating his own thoughts. It had been a while since he'd seen his friend. The black-haired man had originally stared being distant shortly after the Dark Kingdom's first attack: the Black Moon Clan. From there, he went off to college in America, and ever since he'd gotten back, he'd been spending almost all of his time with Usagi. Come to think of it, Motoki hadn't seen her around much either.
Either way, both friends were here now, and Mamoru was positively fuming as he sat down at his usual stool. "Konnichiwa, Mamoru-kun," Motoki greeted. "What's wrong?"
"Long story," Mamoru hissed back. In all honesty, he'd had the morning from hell. First, his alarm clock had gone off late- stupid daylight saving's time - causing him to run late. His clothes didn't match, he hadn't brushed his teeth or eaten breakfast, and then his coworkers were looking at him strangely. Sure, he hadn't taken a shower that morning, but he couldn't have smelled that bad! There wasn't even a youma battle the previous night!
It was only when the twenty-five-year-old doctor went to the bathroom to splash some water on his tired face that he realized what people had been staring at. His eyes had widened. His breathing had increased. And he had screamed bloody murder.
One of his friends and colleagues rushed into the bathroom, holding a scalpel as a weapon like it was a dagger in concern for his friend. One look at Mamoru, however, and he burst out laughing, nearly falling to the floor.
Mamoru had sent his infamous death glare, though, quickly silencing the man, but he still continued to snicker as he left.
Mamoru went home as soon as he was allowed and tried to wash it away, but to no avail. He had tried at least three methods, none of which working for more than a couple of seconds.
And that's how he wound up at the arcade, wearing a black shirt, pants, that horrible green jacket that Usagi hated, and a navy and red Tokyo Yakult Swallows baseball hat. He had kept his head low as to not draw attention, but of course Motoki approached him. Then again, could you blame him? He hadn't seen his friend in quite a while.
"C'mon, tell me what's wrong," Motoki continued to prod. Upon receiving no reply, he beckoned, "Hey, Usagi-chan, can you come help me figure out what's up with Mamoru-kun?"
The blonde eighteen-year-old nodded and hopped up from her seat in the booth with the senshi- well, the inners, anyway. The outers were out doing something or other involving the safety of the world as Crystal Tokyo drew nearer and nearer. She sat down on the stool next to Mamoru and looked to him questioningly. "Come on, Mamo-chan…" she requested, shooting him The Look ™ and turning her voice so it wasn't quite a whine, not close enough to annoy anyone, but still close.
The only reply she got was a 'humph', resulting in her eyebrows furrowing. The man hadn't even looked at her, something he usually did shamelessly. Sure, he would pretend to be embarrassed when caught looking at her when they were around the senshi, who would pummel him to a pulp if they knew about the thoughts running through his head when he 'accidentally' glanced her way, and he was smart enough not to stare at her when he was around her family, but whenever no one else was looking- or at least he thought no one else was looking- he would stare at her.
If the senshi ever caught him staring, he would say he spaced out, but in all honesty, he was staring, end of story.
Usagi sighed. She thought this would be easy. She often found it easy to get Mamoru to tell her anything she wanted, but this time was clearly different. Oh well. Drastic times call for devious measures, as Minako would say. Usagi made a quick mental note to correct her friend the next time she said it.
Usagi moved herself into Mamoru's lap with ease, straddling his waist and wrapping her arms around his neck. "What's wrong, Mamo-chan?" she asked in a caring voice, dipping her head down to get a better look at his face.
"It's a long story," Mamoru grumbled nervously, turning his head away.
"Oh, come on, baby, you can tell me," she prodding continued, intentionally shifting to increase any possible feelings of desire he felt that would help her get closer to her answer. She pouted at him, daring him to defy her.
"It's a long story," he repeated, picking her up and depositing her back on her stool.
Usagi was rather shocked by the action. Ever since Mamoru got back, he hadn't been the best at denying his feelings, especially if Usagi made the first move. Usually a move like that would have resulted in him practically dragging her off to his apartment.
"Mamo-chan, it's been twenty hours since I last saw you," Usagi reasoned, "almost half of which you were asleep for. The story can't be that long."
Mamoru let out a semi-irritated sigh. It was getting harder to deny his Usako.
"And what's with the hat?" she teased. "I thought you hated baseball. And don't you dare tell me-"
"It's a long story," he cut her off. "Look, Usako, I've got to go. I'll see you later, okay?"
"No," Usagi replied. Now she was determined. He rarely denied her unless it was important. "Just tell me what's wrong."
"I second the motion," Motoki put in his two cents. He was sick and tired of the secrets. He knew Usagi was usually in on the secrets, but apparently not this time.
Mamoru grumbled something incoherent before getting up to leave, but one of the arcade-goers crashed into him as he prepared to leave, effectively knocking off his hat.
Usagi rushed to him, concerned for her boyfriend of four years. She helped him up, though she suddenly looked rather amused. She covered her mouth, trying desperately not to laugh, but failing miserably. Finally, she simply burst out laughing, nearly falling to the floor.
Mamoru felt his head with his hand and realized his hat had fallen off. "Crap," he hissed, searching for the baseball cap.
"N-no," Usagi opposed, still giggling slightly. "I like it. Really. I'm just a bit surprised." She moved closer to him and reached up for a kiss, intertwining her fingers with his purple hair.