So, say hello to another version of Flora's Rendition of a First Season Aged-Up AU. Second one in like two weeks lol. (I know, I know. I'm liking the dynamic currently. Sue me XD)

I've actually converted this idea – this fic was supposed to be one shot I'd been drafting. But with MamoUsa Week announced at the beginning of this month, this fic idea completely felt like I could expand it further for this purpose, and so I did. So yes, this is written for MamoUsa Week 2019 on tumblr. This will be one consecutive multi-chapter story, with the original event prompts serving as chapters. The prompts were, in this order: Free Day, Memories, Items, AU, First Kiss, A Fight and Make Up, Family, and additionally: Usagi's Birthday. Making this fic a predetermined eight chapters coming to you within eight days. Buckle up for the ride!

Giant thanks go both to my lovely beta Uglygreenjacket, who's getting her hands full with me on this writing spree, and to graciidancer who transcribed ALL of the first season insults from the new English dub for me (which I don't have access to) for this fic, so that I could reference things in terms that are those that you remember. (Because the German insults tended to be WAY different from the English ones back in the day!) So, this is totally dedicated to you, graciidancer!

Anyway, here you go, guys! And hopefully you can stick around for the week, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

(And since this is a tumblr event, and I haven't mentioned my tumblr in a long while I think, maybe it's time to plug that again lol? You can find me on tumblr under the same pen name and I post inspiration for my fics, random shit, my own fanart, and sometimes gush over guest reviews. Come talk to me!)

Idiots

A First Season AU Written for MamoUsa Week 2019

Day 1: Free Day

Usagi sighed long and hard and kicked the leg of her stool with the back of her shin repeatedly, biting her straw with slumped shoulders.

It was a cute little welcome home party Motoki had put together for Reika by all means. Nothing fancy, and the lighting was a little too bright and artificial in here, what with the sun still shining through the picture windows, and the music was a little drowned out by the chatter, but the benches that usually served as booths in the Fruit Parlor had been pushed to the wall to create one long giant bench. People sat and mingled and some of them danced to cheerful, jazzy tunes. On the other side of the room, a row of tables had been pushed together for a small buffett the guests had filled. Mako-chan's big cake was the shining star.

Mako-chan who was currently crinkling her nose and laughing at whatever Touma was saying to her on the small, impromptu, diner-tiled dance floor.

Usagi rested her chin on her hand. If anything, those two were the good part of the afternoon for her. Living proof that Sensh-ing could come with that exciting flutter of fresh love anyway. A florist for her darling friend of a baker, who was really into tall girls and really into Mako-chan's eyes and just, yes. This was right.

Now she just wished she could have that, too.

She sighed, again. She'd really looked forward to this little party. The battles had been hard lately. Nephrite was pulling all the stops - he seemed to be getting desperate after a year of his shit.

She wondered if he was being replaced. If Queen Beryl was getting sick of him and pulled the same pressure stunt on him that had helped them to finally break down Jadeite?

Either way, the Senshi had had a whole damn lot to do, lately, and she was tired and sore and cranky and ever since she graduated from high school, she really missed being around people in close, confined spaces for vast amounts of time. For all the hundreds of horses that would not suffice in ever dragging her back into a house of education, that was the one thing she missed.

This right here was supposed to be a fun, sweet, little afternoon party with cake and drinks and easy flirts. With lots and lots of people. People whom she missed having around.

Maybe she should try and get herself an office job after all? One where she had flexible hours and could sleep and eat and read Manga all day? Those existed, right?

She poked the bottom of her empty cocktail with her gnawed on, half destroyed straw and sighed again.

"Where's your fan club?"

She jumped in her seat, her mangled straw popped out of her glass with her lifted head, dangling from her lips in little weird and wriggly movements.

What came into her immediate view was Chiba Mamoru clad in a pair of deepest, darkest emerald green skinny jeans she'd never seen on him and that he really should not be allowed to wear.

Not that they didn't look fucking spectacular on that frustratingly sexy body of his.

She frowned at his nether regions, saw his legs shift from one to the other.

"My fan club?" she spoke to his legs.

When she looked up, it was kind of a mistake to do so. Mamoru's eyes sparkled in that challenging way, lips pulled somewhere between a smirk and a half smile as he settled down into the empty stool beside her on the small, tall bar table.

He was a little bit hard to look at. He was always a little bit hard to look at. Distracting. Way too good at using it to his advantage.

He shrugged. "Gaggle of girlfriends, a few puppy-eyed boys flirting and looking like you hung the moon?"

Usagi snorted. The sound blew through her deconstructed straw in little dying whistles. She finally took it from her mouth only to twist the plastic around her fingers.

"Yeah, right," she huffed. "Your pants look silly." She flicked her straw.

They didn't. But she had to keep the insults going, right? This was their thing, after all. Had been these two and a half years she'd known him.

She flushed a little from the intense smirk that pulled at his mouth in answer. He let a few seconds pass before he hurled off his comeback at her.

"Would you prefer if I took them off?"

She pressed her lips together and probably looked a little sour about now. It was all to keep from blushing. Or from saying yes. Because yes.

"They're better than your purple pleated pants by miles, at least," she said, sounding calmer than she felt.

He inclined his head. His smile smoothed out a bit. "Yeah, I've considered gifting those to you."

She frowned at him.

"The amount of times you've referenced them kind of makes it seem like they're heavy on your mind." The half-smile was back.

"Ha ha." She rolled her eyes theatrically.

He nodded at her empty glass.

"You good? I'm gonna get a drink, do you need me to bring you anything?"

She shook her head then looked down at the melted ice and the little umbrella that was almost as shredded as her tortured straw. "This was my second already and I'm out of money for the tip jar and it's getting weird to bum free drinks," she shrugged. This was still technically a café after all, even if currently turned into a venue. Motoki had fretted over the cost, the tip jar had been her suggestion, after all. "So, no," she said.

He nodded and was off. She had to physically restrain herself from looking after him.

She failed.

His ass looked spectacular in these pants, and she really ought to not think that. This was the guy she used to call her nemesis for about a friggin year. It really was not her fault he was so damn attractive.

She snapped her head back when he turned his head away from Unazuki as he ordered, catching her staring.

Her eyes landed back on Mako-chan. They looked adorable. Her freshly baked boyfriend was just that tad shorter than Mako-chan, and the way they rested their heads against each other's as they slow-danced to a song that was faster than this would call for, was simply warming her heart. It felt like looking at a little baby kitten yawning. They needed to stay together forever.

And behind them there were Reika and Motoki. Gosh, he looked so friggin happy to have her back.

She wrapped that straw around her fingers so tightly it turned the skin a little white. She was incredibly, whole-heartedly happy for them. But she wanted what they had, too. So very much.

Preferably with Tuxedo Mask. But she'd learned not to dream. That ship would never sail.

She jumped at the sound of glass being put down on the aluminum bar table in front of her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Then she frowned. Two glasses. One of them the drink she'd had previously, which he hadn't even seen.

"I said—"

"So why are you sitting here alone, Odango Atama?" he interrupted her, and slid the glass in front of her. Then his hand reached out, pried the tortured straw free from around her fingers, and dropped an extra, fresh and undestroyed straw on the table in front of her. Pink stripes. Even though there was a perfectly good, yellow-striped one in her drink, as well.

She blinked.

Also, his skin was surprisingly soft. Not that she'd spared that any mind when he briefly touched her to deprive her of her makeshift plastic toy, no no.

"Ami's got a late class, Rei and Minako are both at work. Mako-chan is over there," Usagi pointed. "The guy I've tried to flirt with earlier turned out to be gay again."

"Again?" He raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged, then wrapped her hands around her drink. "Thank you for the drink?" she said, instead, her voice unsure. She raised her eyes back to his.

He shrugged back in a similar fashion, eyes way warmer than she was used to from him.

Though that was probably a lie. They'd been this warm for quite some time now. She just kept comparing them to the mocking hue he'd sported when they'd met when she'd been 16.

"And apparently no one here wants to dance with me," she added with a huff and a pout, then wrapped her lips tightly around the yellow stripes and took a large sip of her bubbly sweet cocktail. With every suck of her straw, her drink emptied just that tad more, the bright pink beverage making way for transparency where it sunk down her glass.

"I could dance with you…"

She blinked back at him, surprised. His voice had been soft as he'd said it. Trailing off in that unsure way. He was wiping his hands on the fabric of his delicious pants.

She met his expectant stare in frowning silence.

Was it totally bad that she wanted to say yes? This was not what they did.

She swallowed.

Then she shook her head, and wrapped her lips back around her straw, sucking hard. "And have you drop me in the middle just for fun?" she murmured around her straw. "No, thank you."

He pursed his lips. His whole appearance felt a bit like shrinking and he stayed silent.

She felt the drop of his posture almost physically.

Her lips slipped from her straw.

"I suppose..." she started, voice small.

He shook his head sharply. Crossed his arms. His voice turned a little harder. "You don't have to dance with me if you don't want to, Usagi."

Not Odango Atama anymore. When had she learned to dislike it when he called her Usagi?

"It was just a suggestion because you looked sad," he said, and looked away from her face and to the dance floor.

She didn't like it when he looked away like that.

"What do you know? Chiba Mamoru does have a heart," she said. It was meant to get them back on track, back into their familiar, insulting banter. But he didn't react like he was supposed to, didn't react on skript.

Instead, he rolled his eyes. Not in the mocking way, but in a different way. In an off way.

"I mean, I suppose if you're prepared to dance with someone you think can't walk and talk at the same time…"

He threw her a look. He got pretty pissed at her these days when she threw his ancient insults at her back in his face.

It just fired her on.

"Plus, you really shouldn't be surprised no one wants to dance with me. After all, I'm never gonna get a boyfriend since I don't act like a lady," she continued, repeating his old words.

He huffed. Then he got up, leveling her with a glare that was so dark she felt the urge to gulp… And then his hand reached out, and he grabbed hers. He dragged her off her stool, orphaning her pretty drink, and she stumbled after him to the middle of the room, between the swaying bodies.

Her stomach dropped a little. He was holding her hand, pulling at it. His skin really was hella soft…

Then she remembered she ought to make a little bit more of a fuss, here.

"Hey! What do you—"

She stilled as he stopped and turned to her. So friggin' close… His eyes were still dark and he towered over her, but his touch was surprisingly gentle, and completely proper. One hand reaching out to softly cradle hers, the other resting modestly on her hip.

Oh.

She did swallow then, blinked up at him. Her eyes felt a little too wide, and she snapped her mouth shut when she realised it had opened stupidly.

And what the hell was her heart doing beating like that?

His lips pulled up – not quite the half-smile this time. And then he nudged at her a little and began to move in sync to the pretty song.

His hand felt really way too nice… She could smell him like this. Soap and something floral she couldn't put her finger on that was maybe just more soap, but which made her want to breathe him in way too deeply.

He was silent, but his touch became a little steadier and when she looked up, he was looking down at her. His lips were turned up but it was... almost NOT that signature smirk. It was both kinder and almost... shy-er.

Her stomach made a little flip-flop. Mamoru-baka isn't shy.

She almost didn't notice the expert way he led her, the way she followed in steps she barely knew so fluidly until his hand was no longer on her hip and he swung her out, only to swing her back in.

She blinked. Her cotton skirt fluttered prettily around her knees. This was nice. Really, really nice.

"You can dance," she said. There was way too much wonder laced into her almost accusing tone.

His lips quirked up into the familiar half smile. "I can," he said.

"But…" she pushed her eyebrows together. "You can like, really dance."

As if in answer, he nudged her into a different direction. Steps wide and fluid and it felt a little like she was supposed to be in a movie and wear a prettier dress and people should be parting to watch them.

He shrugged, but his lips stayed in their smile and his eyes twinkled back down at her. "Is it such a surprise?"

She frowned, dipped her eyes to his chest and the soft-looking, dark button-down. "Kinda," she mumbled to his button border.

And then her stomach dropped some more, and her heartbeat hammered against her chest and he friggin dipped her. She hung across the floor held by his arms around her, and it felt fucking safe, and her face must have looked pretty shocked because the smirk was back on his lips.

She felt his hand on her back, warm and strong. His hair fell into his eyes, his head bent down towards her. His eyes were... on her. Just on her. Focused an oddly intense amount. And there was something in them that made her heart beat even faster and her stomach coil into knots.

He reeled her back in. His mouth was too close when he put her back on her feet, just for that little moment in transit.

She'd felt his eyes on her lips.

She saw his adam's apple move and he turned his chin up. The movement put the modest distance back between them and she somehow felt much too disappointed by that.

But her stomach kept eating her from the inside out and her voice was a little too breathy when she spoke.

"So, does that mean you're an idiot?"

His eyes blinked in confusion. One inky strand of hair moved across his forehead when he bopped his head forward a little to frown at her better. "What?"

"I thought only an idiot would ever be interested in me," she said, lifting one shoulder.

His eyes flashed darker. His smile slipped away. It was replaced by a glare, and Usagi blinked slowly, then bit her lip.

"Not to say you're interested, of course. This is just a dance."

His eyes stayed in his tight frown, but he didn't answer.

She swallowed, pressing her lips together tightly.

His shoulder moved beneath her hand and he sighed. His brow smoothed over but his eyes stayed focused on her.

And then the music changed. Went from slow dance to a faster pace, and his hand slipped from her waist, and his other let go of her own hand.

She leveled a confused stare up at him, and his lips pulled into a small smile as he shrugged at her, and buried his hands in the pockets of those sexy pants.

It was the saddest smile she'd ever seen on him.

She didn't know what had gotten into her. Why she did what she did next. But with not at all tentative fingers, she reached up and touched his lips.

She felt him jump a little, and out of the corner of her eyes, she felt his eyes widen, but he didn't move away from her touch. Instead, he endured it, and she moved two fingers slowly across the soft, plump, red flesh. They felt a little like silk. And they trembled.

And then he puckered his lips into a kiss, and kissed her fingertips softly.

It made her startle almost violently, definitely physically, and she pulled her hand back as if the touch – his kiss – had struck like lightning.

She blinked up at him almost in shock, rooted to the spot. Her fingers tingled where he'd kissed them.

He buried his hands deeper in his pockets, nodded, and then turned to leave.

He'd already passed her when he turned back to her.

"Usagi?"

"Hm?" She dragged her eyes to him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He inclined his head. Again that sad smile. That sad smile she wanted to never see again, wanted to kiss away.

He turned his eyes to the ceiling, cocked his head, and mumbled one tiny little sentence before he turned and walked right out of the Fruit Parlor and out towards the dramatic afternoon sky.

It rang in her mind the rest of the evening, way into the night. Wouldn't let her sleep.

"I am an idiot…" he'd said.

See you tomorrow! Next up: Memories.

I'd love to hear your thoughts!