The Simple Things in Life

Otherwise known as "A Day Off"

Michiru's Point of View. Michiru shares her thoughts on her girlfriend while she and Haruka enjoy a random day off between their hectic schedules. A sort of 'day in the life' kind of thing, with insight into Michiru's thoughts. Post-Stars. M for not-too-explicit, but very mature content. I tend not to write detailed citrus, but this one should be a little more intense than my usual fluff. Very much M. Finer details are deliberately left out of this to keep it M, and not MA. Kind of like how R movies will be risque but still keep the more intimate bits away from the camera to keep it R, and not X. ;-) It's a fine line I tread, but I think I tread it nicely.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but plot bunnies, which go hoppity-hop in my head. Reviews are carrots. Think of the bunnies!

I lean against the frame of the doorway into our bedroom, smiling a little as I watch my sleepy blond, sprawled in our bed. I just finished getting ready for the day – teeth brushed and hair combed – and I have to admit the truth. I could watch Haruka sleeping for hours and not get tired of it. My Haruka.

Her face is relaxed, softer in sleep than usual. At home, I see this unguarded look often enough, but around others, she's far too careful not to let anyone beyond her family see what she's thinking or feeling. It can't be easy, either – she feels things so intensely…

Between the two of us, most people would never guess that Haruka was the one more greatly affected by emotion. Her outward demeanor hides it well, doesn't it? Years of having to hide who you were and how you felt would do that to anyone, and Haruka was – and is – no exception to this. That mask of indifference would come off from time to time if she got to know you, and with me? With me, the only way I know she's upset with me is if I see that mask, only because she's still afraid of fights.

And we do fight. No relationship is perfect – no, not even ours. We've bickered over the towels left on the bathroom floor (my fault), or greasy footprints through the kitchen because someone didn't realize the gook had soaked into her socks and pants as well as her shoes (Haruka), to whether or not we were going to go to my relatives' house for the holidays, or even what movie we wanted to watch that night (Haruka is a fan of action movies, I enjoy comedies). We've had shouting matches over Hotaru's schooling, or after-school activities.

But in the end? In the end, I know Haruka would walk barefoot over broken glass just to be with me. And she knows I would do the same. As for those fights? Those fights mean we care – not just about each other, but about those around us. Those fights mean that some things are important to us – we just have to discover a way to at least satisfy both of our interests, even if we can't have our way entirely.

You'd never know, if you weren't her friend, just how deeply Haruka cares for people. Not just me, but for all of those people she's come to think of as family. It started with me, true. It started the very first time I'd put myself in harm's way just to keep her from getting hurt. I'd do it a thousand times over, too. But she'd seen the lengths I'd go to for her - not just because of the fact that, at the time, she was an innocent. A bystander in the battle. But because my following her had an unintended consequence: I'd fallen for her. Not the mask she showed to her fans, or the self-assured side of her that won so many races. Her entire self. I'd seen her working late hours at the garage, tuning her car up, or hunched over a desk going over the numbers from the last race. I'd seen her after a track and field race, walking home alone rather than driving, taking the long way so she could walk through a park and settle her mind.

I'd seen her buy a child a balloon because the young girl was crying over the one that had popped, having gotten too close to a splintered sign. I saw her telling the sniffling girl that she was far too pretty to be crying like that. The girl had blushed and giggled despite her tears, perfectly charmed by the blonde racer.

I'd learned to love her before she even knew who I was. And I'd seen that mask crack at the edges before she'd even said two words to me. She was suffering – the waking visions I knew she was having, and the stress and nightmares keeping her up at night. The visions of the Silence that haunted both of us, even awake – all too often when my eyes closed. I knew she saw it, too. There was a sad, desperate expression on her face sometimes that I recognized from my own expression in the mirror. You didn't get a look like that unless you feared there was no longer any hope for the world.

There almost wasn't. The last hope, the Messiah and the Grail… It had taken until it was nearly too late before the pieces fell into place, and the Silence was stopped. After that, the danger continued, one monster at a time, one being hellbent on destruction after another. Until Sailor Galaxia was finally defeated.

No thanks to us. We'd chosen poorly, though our hearts were in the right place. We should have just trusted Usagi, as naïve as she was. Hadn't the Princess proven that she was capable enough, before? Hadn't she shown us that if we'd just believed in her, she could win – without the sacrifice of others? Yet we had to be shown again, egos bruised as our bodies faded into nothingness. Neither one of us would ever again doubt our Princess. Lesson learned – immortally learned, at that.

And now we simply wait. The dangers are over – at least the dire ones. Oh, a daimon or two would pop up, seeds from the Witches left behind finding their way into things. Or a youma that somehow survived. But Usagi had a little more growing up to do before Crystal Tokyo could come to fruition, and all of us were happy enough to simply live in relative peace until that point in time. The four of us – the four Outer Senshi – had our home by the beach. The Inner Senshi had school to get through, and dreams to fulfill.

Which meant Haruka would race, and I would perform, and we'd all come home from our jobs and our dreams, pile on the couch and watch a movie together. Or play in the pool. Or on the beach. Anything – so long as we were together.

Right now, Setsuna was out fulfilling one of her own dreams – designing clothing. She wasn't even sure if she'd be successful at it, but she had put in some money to buy her own boutique, and was currently teaching Hotaru how to create mock-ups of the clothes she wanted to make. Which left Haruka and I alone, with no concert to put on, no race to participate in. We could be as lazy as we liked – and my blonde lover was making the most of it. Long limbs were sprawled out on our bed, tank top riding up her stomach and the sheets tangled at her legs, having been kicked downward due to the warmer night we had. Her head was turned on her pillow, eyes closed as she slept in – peaceful and dreaming of goodness knew what.

Well, peaceful for however long I let her be. I almost reconsider waking her – she'd had a very long, exhausting day yesterday, to the point where we hadn't even had the energy to do much of anything last night besides curl up with each other and fall asleep. But now? She was too tempting. I reached out, trailing my fingertips over those strong, slender legs, ghosting over skin and fabric till I reached her hip. I could feel the muscle under my hand, the thin fabric of her underwear the only thing that lay between our skin. Leaning in, I let my lips feather a few soft kisses across the flat of her stomach, then…

I blow. Hard. Letting out a rather ear-shattering raspberry against her abdomen.

Mission accomplished.

Emerald eyes snap open in shock, a shriek leaving her lips before she dissolves into laughter, squirming against the hold I have on her hip. "Mi… Michi!" she gasps, wide awake and both annoyed and happy for the way I'd woke her up. I can't help the grin on my lips as I lift my head, and she's eying me like a puma ready to strike. The next thing I know, she's chasing me out of our bedroom and down the hall, both of us shrieking with mirth. These are the days I live for – the ones that remind me of just what our sacrifices had been for.

I just managed to yank the bathroom door open when her arms wrap around my waist, lifting me off the ground, and I squirm a little – perhaps too much, because with a shout of surprise, we both end up in a heap on the floor. Ow. We lay there for a moment, panting and giggling, before I roll off of her and stand, offering her a hand up. A moment later, she's pulling me close, and I can feel her lips brushing tenderly over my forehead. My Haruka – the only person in the world I could truly see myself with for the rest of my days. I wouldn't even mind growing old with her, though I know with Crystal Tokyo only a matter of months or years away, that wouldn't be happening. Crystal Tokyo would keep us immortally this age, or close to it.

"Mm… you smell nice," I can hear her hum against my hair, and I shiver happily.

"I need a shower, though. And so do you. We've got errands to run before we get to be lazy again," I insist, shooing her toward the vanity. "Teeth now while I get the water going." I'd already brushed my own before waking my favorite blonde, giving me plenty of time to get the water pouring nice and hot from the showerhead. Once it's ready, I lean against the side of the shower stall, peeling my clothes off one item at a time. Until it's obvious that Haruka has abandoned her task of brushing her teeth to stare at me. I arch a brow, down to just a delicate pair of sea-foam green panties, and make a shooing motion toward the sink. Finish brushing, silly, or there's no point in me stripping, now is there?

She gets the hint and turns away to hurry with getting her teeth clean, and I rid myself of the last garment I've got on, then step into the shower to wait for her. It doesn't take long. Arms wrap around my waist, kisses raining on my shoulder, and I groan as I lean back into her arms. I can feel the soft swell of her chest against my shoulder and I turn my head so I can nuzzle against her neck. "Ruka…" I breathe, feeling a bubble of happiness well up within me.

Happiness, because the world simply seems 'right' today. Even as her strong hands turn me that last bit so she can hold me face-to-face, it isn't the physicality that gets to me. It's the love I see in her eyes. The tenderness in her touch. Fingertips lick against my skin as one hand lifts, tipping my chin up before lips claim my own. I can feel my toes curl against the shower's floor, my heart giving tiny little flutters in my chest that leave me feeling pleasantly weak.

This is Haruka. This woman, who could never see the purity in her own soul, who shines brighter than any star in the heavens. This is my lover, my beloved, the twin heart to mine. There is nothing in the world that feels more right to me than this – tucked in the curve of her arms.

Our shower lasts far longer than it should, and I can't complain. Would you? Just the memory of Haruka's gentle touch exploring me, unraveling me… We're both in a place beyond contentment by the time we step out of the shower, a little breathless and weak-kneed as she fetches towels and wraps us both up. Her fingers comb through my wet hair, and I know she's savoring the time we have like this just as much as I am.

In a week, we'll be returning to our crazy schedules again, and the opportunity we're given now will end. I can feel little brushes of her lips along my neck and shoulder, not quite as fierce as earlier, not trying to spark passion any longer. Just adoringly, and I return those kisses, dropping a few on the nearest patch of water-misted skin to my lips.

Breakfast together is a fun one, rather than the usual grabbing of cereal or yogurt before bolting out the door. No, today we're making waffles – I know Haruka loves to make them almost as much as she loves to eat them, and they're a special treat for a day where we have nothing pressing to do. So once we're dressed (well, as dressed as we're going to get, in tank tops and yoga-pant-like shorts… what a pair we make!), we tumble into the kitchen, my windy blonde already chattering excitedly about what kind of waffles we would make. She loves lemon, so already she's pushing for me to add a little grated lemon peel to the batter. You try denying her! I certainly can't. So lemon peel it is. Perhaps with some lemon curd and whipped cream on top? I make the offer, and it's as though I'd told a child the world was made of candy. Her eyes light, and she hurries to the cupboards to see if we have lemon curd.

Making waffles with Haruka is like making waffles with an excited, hyper five year old. It's fun, and we're usually rendered into heaps of giggles, but it gets rather messy. By the end, there are splotches of batter across the cabinets and along the floor, with bits stuck to our shoulders and cheeks (and I'm sure more than one splotch of the sticky stuff on our clothing, too. But while the first of our waffles begins to cook, we take the time to clean. Towels work to pick up the goo from the tiles and wood, as well as the counter tops. More creative methods are used, however, to remove the lemon-kissed batter from skin. Haruka, not one to let good batter go to waste, nearly lets our first waffle burn as she laps a few drops of waffle mix from my throat. And once the second waffle is in and cooking, I'm determined to return the favor, tracing my tongue across her chest. I can hear her breath catch, and I know the peace our shower had left us with is starting to fade.

The second waffle is taken out of the iron with shaking hands, a third put in as she presses into me, mouth hungrily lapping away some floury spots along my upper arm before kissing me fiercely. I can feel her slender leg press between my own and I arch into her with a whimpered moan. The counter's edge bites into my lower back, but I don't care. Her fingers stroke over my stomach, tracing little patterns across twitching muscle, then slide expertly past the elastic edge of my shorts. I cry out as her questing touch finds its goal, writhing against her form as her lips leave my own to latch upon my throat, biting playfully.

I'm undone in short time, trembling and barely able to remain standing – the previously occupied hand holds me up as Haruka uses the other to open the waffle iron and remove a rather over-done waffle. Whoops. Another ladle of batter is added to the iron, and I take the time it requires to cook it to compose myself. I'm breathing hard as Haruka switches arms she's holding me with, lightly lapping at her fingers like a satisfied cat. Proud of herself. I scowl playfully at her, and she arches a brow at me knowingly. "You sacrificed a waffle for that," I point out and she grins. The imp.

"Worth it," comes the pleased reply, stealing my breath and a kiss immediately after. I'll get my revenge later, and she knows it. Until then, though, the waffles return to my first priority, leaning somewhat limply against both my lover and the counter until it's time to make another waffle. Soon, there's a breakfast of lemon waffles and milk tea on the table, the top waffles still steaming slightly from being rather fresh off the iron.

We sit down to eat, sharing glances and smiles and little brushes of leg against each other. Contact deprived for so long due to overly hectic schedules, it's craved now. We eat almost in silence, words not really needed between us. In tandem, our dishes are brought to the sink, rinsed off, and set on the drain board. Followed shortly by a shriek as my fingers find my runner's side, tickling fast before she can get away. She bolts for the door outside and I follow – she's staying only a few steps ahead of me, not trying too hard to escape. We both know if she really wanted to get away from me, it wouldn't be very difficult for her – she's the wind, and you can't outrun the wind.

I corner her near our pool, and she freezes in front of the water, contemplating her next move just a second too long. Arms wrap around her as I tackle her into the water, both of us shrieking as we sink into the sun-warmed depths. She sputters when she surfaces, looking at me like a kitten experiencing its first flea bath – not at all happy, and I know it's my job to fix that. So I draw close to her, fingers lifting to drag through soaked blonde strands, and move onto my tiptoes to claim her lips with my own.

There. I can feel her relax, dipping her head down to meet my mouth, and I smile into our kiss, stepping backward to guide us toward the shallower water and the stairs we'd ignored on our entry to the pool. My revenge for the fallen waffle begins as my lips leave hers, urging her to sit on the third step to the pool. There isn't a single ounce of hesitation in her now – only curiosity and passion as she obliges, leaning back a bit and gasping as I find the places along her throat I know can set her heartbeat racing.

I dip under water, fingers lifting the hem of her tank top while lips and teeth kiss and nibble along the exposed skin of her stomach, then upward as my hands lift – thwarted only by the bra she's wearing. I come up for air and huff. "You're wearing too much," I insist, never mind that I've got the same on that she does. The laugh that rumbles from her throat does nothing to calm me, either. Instead, it only serves to fuel the fever in me. I lean in, and within seconds that clasp is undone, and a moment later, both bra and tank top are flung in a sopping, soggy mess on the side of the pool. They make a satisfying 'splat' as they land on tile and concrete.

A blond brow is raised at me, the lips I adore so much curved upward at the corners in a wicked, amused grin. "Impatient?"

"As if you weren't. That poor waffle," I retort playfully, and she laughs before drawing me down for another series of delicious kisses – this time with far less between us than before. My hands can't help themselves. While one hand splays along that bare back, the other raises to cradle a soft mound, squeezing gently and drinking in the moans that drip against my mouth. I slide a little to the side so I can brace some of my weight on my knee and hip (what little weight being in the water provides), while the hand that had originally lay against Haruka's back slides around front – and down. The jerk of her hips and soft squeak against my lips tells me I'm on the right track, and before long I've got her arching against me, thrashing in the water as desperately as I'd been against the kitchen counter.

It isn't long before I feel her tense, and she quakes against me with a soft cry – going limp in the water a few moments later. I hold her close, my lips once more finding her own, gentle now. Soft. "Avenge that waffle any time, love," she finally utters once she gets her wits back, and we both share a laugh before curling up against one another for a few more moments of watery bliss.

Hours later, after a few laps in the pool, some serious drying off, and a well-earned lunch, we're curled up on the living room couch, some random documentary on the television – we're not paying a single lick of attention to it, though. Haruka's half asleep beside me, now wearing a tee-shirt to replace the tank top we'd soaked. I've got my head resting just above her breast, our arms wrapped around each other loosely. Soon…

Soon this will end.

Haruka will have to go back to racing. I've got concerts lined up, too. True, we'll still have some time together most days, but nothing like this. Not the relaxing, waste-the-whole-day-being-lazy kind of time. No… we'll schedule a date or two, or I'll show up at one of her races, or she'll come to one of my concerts. But this is something special, and I know she's relishing in it as much as I am. Time with each other. Time with our family. Because who knows what the future will bring? Who knows what life will be like in Crystal Tokyo?

As the front door opens and Hotaru and Setsuna enter, I know I'll do whatever it takes to keep this family as whole as I can. Haruka stirs, and I slide off her so we can both greet the other two after their long day away.

(Feed the plot bunnies - review!)