It has been a while. Here is something new, a set of teasers. Enjoy. Standard disclaimers apply. The characters belong to the various owners of Sailor Moon. Not me.

Kunzite had a secret. And it was getting harder and harder to keep.

It wasn't that he didn't love having her live with him. The whole place felt warmer with her there. The accents of the formerly white and metal apartment were now soft swatches of color. Pinks, yellows, and reds in the forms of throws on the chairs, or constant supplies of fresh flowers from the farmer's market beneath her agent's office, or the new painting by Michiru. It was now where he lived, not where he slept.

And then there was the other obvious benefit of proximity. 'Spontaneous acts of love' as she always demanded, were much easier when she was so close. And when she walked around in just a robe that mysteriously gapped only when he was working. And that she applied full-body lotion daily, usually when the light was good, and the sun would shimmer off her hair and skin. Yes...proximity had many wonderful benefits.

But there was also no where to hide.

He had been feeling that burden recently. Before, he had been allowed to indulge in his few secret shames without ever having to lose face before Minako. His fondness for boxing, which Minako reviled as cruel and even macabre in light of what they faced daily, was just one such sacrifice. But he could still sneak out to Nephrite's, who had a similar love, and come back with her none the wiser.

That was not the true loss. No. Kunzite had a secret love which he could not avoid. Not when no matter where he went, she would know. He knew he couldn't do it in the apartment. That would be too obvious. So that left somewhere outside as an option, but even if he had no quams about being seen, there would still be signs, and she knew how to read them. If he could have come home and cleaned up without her being there...but that was now impossible. It had been the root of his growing irritation with little things, like a misplaced set of keys or a container of food left out, for a long while now.

But if she knew, oh if she knew, there'd be no end of the lectures, the shame. He had not gotten desperate enough to just do it and take a shower at the gym after. Not yet. Clearly, he'd thought about it, though. One day, if it got bad enough, he might, or he might even confess.

Because god, no matter how clique it was, he did love a cigar.