Strangers

By Aislinn Cailin

Author's Note: Strangers is a three-part short fic, centering around the typical Usagi/Mamoru separation/reunion concept. I can assure you won't be done to your standards; it was something I wrote because I was utterly parched due to my lack of creative writing. Therefore, I really have no patience whatsoever to edit. I might fix all this up later, but for now, it's my first draft.

Nevertheless, I'm always eager for suggestions. The rest of this fic should come out in the rest of April/early May, but no promises.

That being said, I hope you enjoy whatever meagre amount of pleasure I might have managed to squeeze into this fic. Reviews are appreciated.

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Part One: Drinks

Usagi excused herself from the group, and stepped out of the crowd of unruly dancers. It was no surprise that, as usual, Rei, Makoto, and Minako had boundless energy, swaying and shaking their bodies to the wild frenzy of the dance beat, while timid Ami was still back at the booth, chatting complacently with Motoki.

Usagi herself had been part of the avid dancers, but exhaustion from travel, made her tired far more easily than the rest of them. Well, that and the one thing she wouldn't admit to herself. No, it wasn't because of that she was tired. Scanning the crowd for interesting people cannot make you tired.

Nevertheless, her step had lost a bit of its spring, her composure a little more dejected. Of course, one could easily pass this for exhaustion of dance due to the slight layer of sweat and ruffled hair. As she made her way to the bar, she pried off the scrunchie that was stuck to her ponytail, and shook out her hair. The blonde strands of silk, lengthy as ever, fell loose. She gathered a few strands from the side, took out a clip, and arranged it haphazardly, giving herself a casual appearance. It's not as if the person she was all dressed up to meet was there anyway.

The music drifted away when she reached the counter. A waitress, tired by the looks of it but still forcing a smile, rushed over. Usagi was about to order something when another burly voice answered before her.

"Another Scotch," he said, and quite unkindly at that.

Usagi studied the man who had spoken. He sported a sharp blazer over a brown t-shirt and black pants. He would have been the perfect picture of elegance had it not been for his tousled hair, his sunglasses, and his slightly drunk look.

Sunglasses? Usagi thought incredulously. The place was dark enough for the both of them!

The waitress slid the man his drink and then stared at Usagi, waiting for her answer.

"Martini," she answered. "Dry."

She sat down, a seat in between her and the man. His strange behaviour drew her to him, but she didn't think he'd appreciate the sudden appearance of a stranger. The waitress placed Usagi her drink but she hardly noticed it. Instead, she watched the man slowly grab the glass, stare into its depths, and then drown it in one shot. He placed it next to two other empty Scotch glasses.

"Taking it quite heavily, aren't you?" She had to raise her voice a bit for him to be heard.

He beckoned the waitress for another Scotch before turning around, again with that same, deliberate delayed reaction. Even through his glasses she could feel him studying her.

"Are you the angel sent to take me up?"

For a second, the response unnerved her, and she thought he might be one of those perverts who try to attract girls with their mysterious appearance. But when he didn't make any further comment or gesture, she realised the quite simple fact: he was drunk.

Smiling, she moved to the seat next to him.

"No," she said. Deciding to test him to his level of consciousness, she then playfully asked, "Do you use that line on every girl you see?"

He shook his head. Gripping the glass the waitress had given him, he slowly pointed to her hair. "I've never seen such a blonde."

Now, Usagi could have taken that comment the wrong way, but good-natured as she was, she let out a giggle instead. "Now that's something I've never heard before. Most people attribute my blondeness to my stupidity."

He shrugged and turned around, ready to devour his next drink. "You don't seem that stupid."

Perhaps he isn't so drunk after all, she thought. Or, in any case, his speech didn't let it on.

Before he had a chance to raise the Scotch to his lips, Usagi enclosed her hand around his and brought it down, softly prying his fingers from the glass.

"That's enough," she said gently. "You've had three already."

He turned to look at her again. For a moment, she thought he'd refuse and make a swipe for the drink again, but then his shoulders sagged.

Usagi scooted her chair closer to him, feeling that she wouldn't be heard lest she speak as loud as she had been.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here without her girlfriends anyway?" he asked, staring her up and down unabashedly. "Don't you have someone to meet?"

"I could ask the same." Not minding the stranger's looks – what could she expect? She had dressed to impress — she scrutinized him the same way. Even a blind person could agree that he was quite good looking.

"What's a handsome guy like you doing here without a girlfriend? You two have a fight?" she teased.

It was then that she realised that she was still holding his hand. Quickly, she let go, blushing.

The stranger shook his head, but said nothing.

Usagi tried again. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know." He tried to make a grab for the Scotch now, but she hastily moved it away. "Since seven? Eight?"

She glanced at her watch; it was a quarter to twelve.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Who?"

He whispered something.

"What?" She moved her stool closer to his. She caught a waft of his scent – a strong, musky aroma, tinged with body spray and Scotch. Where had she smelled that before? Suddenly, she missed his hand.

He looked towards the dance floor, his face shadowed with a painful, wistful. Turning back around, he sighed. "No one. It doesn't matter."

Usagi was bewildered. She didn't know what to say now. Obviously, she couldn't pry into this man's personal life, but she didn't feel right just letting it drop.

She used this opportunity to take her hands in his again. She knew she was being utterly foolish; she had hardly known this man for half an hour. But she couldn't ignore the immediate warmth that zinged through her hands and arms, all the way to the abdomen, nor the attraction that compelled her to delve into this man's deepest and darkest secrets, and find out all about his life.

Well, maybe it was a good thing. It would keep her mind off him.

"You can tell me. She must be someone important."

The man did not miss this gesture either. He stroked her hands slowly, and relished in the feeling. They were wonderfully soft. He looked at the girl. She was so strange. She was the only one who had shown such curiosity about his life.

The movement in her hair drew her to him further. He wanted so badly to touch it but was scared what the girl might say.

Instead, he looked back up at her eyes. It took his breath away to see her looking at him with such concern.

"Do you …" he said cautiously "… want to get a booth?"