Title: First Truths--Chapter 5 By: Lilac Summers Rated: PG13 for mild language salaices@leland.stanford.edu Hey hey hey! Here is part 5! It looks like "Vacation" has taken a quiet back-seat. I'm stuck guys, that's all there is to it. I KNOW what I want to have happen, but I simply can't write it down. However, *this* story is practically writing itself. So, get it while it's hot, is what I'm saying. ^_^ I dedicate this to Sonia-chan. May all the warm and fuzzy feelings last you throughout the day. Disclaimer: Sailor Moon is owned by Naoko Takeuchi. <...> =>denotes thought ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ First Truths by Lilac Summers Chapter 5 Tuxedo Mask leapt over the balcony railing, floundered and fell against the outside wall. He didn't care. Like a blind man, he fumbled as he tried to open the patio doors to the point of frustration. Just before he'd decided to smash a fist through the glass and get it over with, the doors slid open with ease. He dashed through, throwing off hat and mask and collapsing on the couch, head cradled in his hands. Oh god, what had he done?! his mind screamed at him repeatedly. And it felt so good...so right! No, but if he could do it again...NO! Don't go there! He slumped back, running weary fingers through tousled black hair. He couldn't change what had happened. He'd kissed her. No, *she'd* kissed him first...and that thought sent more fingers of overjoyed excitement running down his nerve endings. God, Sailor Moon had kissed *him*!! Chiba Mamoru, cold upperclassman. But he couldn't help it. He'd felt her lips on his, cool and chaste, and had simply lost it. Shocked to the core the first few seconds, he had almost gone into a panic when she began to pull away. His whole body had protested at the thought of parting, and he'd given in. He'd chased her mouth as if his salvation depended on it, and he had not let the kiss stay innocent. It had been a hot meeting of open mouths... "Aaargh!" He jumped up from the couch and proceeded to pace the length of his living room, his gait unusually disjointed, filled with nervous energy. If he had simply let it go at that first kiss he would have no problems. Sure, so Sailor Moon would probably be a little embarrassed next time they met, and he'd always wonder what it would have been like to really kiss her...but god, the not knowing would have been easier to handle than the knowledge that he would never be able to kiss her again. After all, you can't miss what you've never had, right? He had highly compromised his mission to find the crystal, to find his princess. And, of course, now came the guilt. As ridiculous as it was, he felt as though he were being unfaithful to his dream princess. But worse of all was the knowledge that, if in the same position, he would not hesitate to kiss Sailor Moon again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For long moments, Sailor Moon's mind was a rush of conflicting thoughts and emotions. But there it was, the proof that stained her glove, that incriminating drop of blood. The argument held logic, but something inside of her warned her not to dismiss her first idea so lightly. She was scared to think that her Tuxedo Mask, who she thought could do no wrong, was actually the flawed and utterly infuriating Mamoru she knew not-so-well. And the scariest part was, she wouldn't have been disappointed if he had been. Maybe that's what she wanted. Maybe that's why her mind had jumped so easily, so *happilly*, to that conclusion. Sailor Moon jumped down from her perch on the roof, found a convenient alley, and detransformed. It was getting late and she had to go home. Thinking about this would only drive her insane. That had to be it. She was obviously under a lot of stress. I mean, seriously, she couldn't *really* believe that she had the hots for Chiba. Usagi scoffed quietly at herself. NO, of course not. So he could be nice, but he was generally a big pain in the a$$. And-and so what if Tuxedo Mask WAS Chiba Mamoru?! Mamoru was even MORE unlikely to feel anything for her than Tuxedo Mask was... Usagi stopped in mid-step, breath sounding unnaturally sharp in her ears. She was jostled rudely as a group of teenagers, newly released from school, pushed her out of their path. She resumed her walk more slowly, blinking back foolish tears that had sprung up behind her eyes. "And then...and then they KISSED! Right there, in front of the entire school. It was...it was all steamy and dramatic, like those movies!" Usagi almost collided with a light post as the teenagers' conversation finally registered. She turned flamingo pink and tried to hurry by, head down. "Ooh, those two are so romantic. I KNEW there was something there. Y'know, the news is always saying 'they're only friends' and all that, but it's so obvious..." Usagi was running now, from the talk and from her embarrassment. What did Tuxedo Mask think of her now? What was going to happen next? The next realization hit her like a brick wall. That one sent her scurrying for home and the relative safety of her own room ************************************************************************* The next day was a Saturday. Usually, Usagi enjoyed Saturdays with a glee unparalleled. Today, though, found a haggard Usagi lagging about pathetically around the mall. She would have preferred to remain at home were it not for the fact that she was hiding from the other Senshi, unprepared to give explanations for Friday's spectacle. Now all she could do was move listlessly from one air-conditioned store to another. Whatever restorative powers her day off had performed were lost under the influence of a sleepless night. That, and the one driving thought she could not get out of her head. She slumped by yet another frightfully expensive clothing store. Not even the ice-cream booth caught her attention. The shoe store, the toy store, the comic store...all passed by without a glance from her. The bookstore might have suffered the same fate were it not for the display of daily newspapers stacked outside. One caught her eye. Boy, did it ever. Usagi snatched a copy, threw her money at a harried clerk, and brought the front page, trembling, into focus. There, on the front page, displayed for all the world to see, was a full-length color photograph of Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask kissing passionately in the middle of the schoolyard. Usagi gave a little strangled noise of shock and disbelief and sunk into the nearest booth, not caring that it was already occupied. Frantically she read the print, gnashing her teeth when she found that the picture had been taken by some enterprising student with a camera, who'd been watching through the window. She placed away that tidbit for later, scanning the article as it detailed the history of the Senshi, pondered over the mystery of the Tuxedo Mask, and speculated about his and Sailor Moon's relationship. Though the title of the article exclaimed that "Youma Attacks Local Junior High; Sailor Moon Saves the Day," it was obvious that the piece was nothing more than glorified gossip. "I should have known you'd be into that kind of gunk," came the acerbic voice behind the paper. "And while you are at it, please, take a seat." Usagi jumped in her chair, crumpling the newspaper edges between sweaty palms, and hung her head in dismay. If she had ever doubted it before, she knew now: God had to be a guy. Slowly, slowly she brought down the concealing pages of the paper, peering over the edge at the face that had caused her to toss and turn the night away. "Satan." It was a statement with no inflection, not betraying that her heart was pounding a drum cadence against her ribs. "If I had seen you sitting here, I wouldn't have sat down, too." Mamoru set down his coffee cup gently as he surveyed the harried girl in front of him. "You know, sooner or later you're going to have to stop calling me that." Usagi was busily searching his features, cataloguing his looks and comparing them to what she had seen of Tuxedo Mask's. What she noticed made her hands quake. She abruptly set down the paper and hid her hands beneath the table. Desperately, she fell back on the barbed play that flowed so easily between them. "Yeah, I'll stop calling you Satan. Sooner or later. Hold your breath," to her chagrin, she found herself staring at his lips. Mamoru wiped at his mouth with a napkin, wondering if he'd left traces of coffee around the edges after he saw her staring. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. He found that whatever he was going to say died on his tongue. To marshal his resources, he nodded his head at the newspaper between them. "So, I take it that happened at your school?" Usagi searched his words for any tone of surprise, embarrassment, *anything* that could betray that he had been involved with the fight. She found nothing more than the normal droll amusement. She nodded carefully, studying his eyes before she spoke. "Yeah," she swallowed hastily, praying for courage, "I--I heard it was a pretty steamy kiss. Tongue and all that." Good GOD! Did she actually SAY that?!!! She wanted to melt into the floor and die. If the description rang any bells, he didn't show it. One black eyebrow arched upward as he, in his usual irritating manner, laughed at her silently. "Oh, tongue and all that, huh?" he teased at her obvious discomfort. "How would you know?" Usagi almost swallowed the tongue in question. "H-How?! How--Well, I heard so!" That laconic brow stayed up. "Really? Do you believe everything you hear, Odango Atama?" Usagi caught herself right before she could jump up and announce, "It was *so*! I should know!!" She could only stammer and protest. "W-well, there's a picture, see?" They both leaned in to inspect the picture, zooming in on the blurry tangle of Tuxedo's and Moon's mouths. Usagi squinted and was gratified to see that, indeed, it DID look like a pretty steamy kiss. Completely forgetting her true involvement in the scenario, she pointed at the picture triumphantly. "See!! It's so OBVIOUS!" She looked up, he looked up, and there they were. Scant inches away from each other. Usagi stared at his lips again. No cuts. Mamoru was also perusing Odango's lips. He wanted them. He jumped back in his seat. "I was joking, Odango. You don't have to convince me, you know." Usagi blinked, dazed. Then she wanted to smack herself repeatedly against the table. God, she wanted to shake him. She wanted to take him by the throat and shake him, screaming all the while, "Just tell me if you're Tuxedo Mask, dammit! TELL MEEEE!!" Mamoru surveyed the picture once more. He hadn't been surprised when Odango had showed it to him, of course. Why, he had his very own copy stashed in his laptop case beside him. He'd almost scalded himself with his first cup of coffee, hands unsteady as he read the article, system rushing from that first bout of caffeine that was supposed to get his system started after his sleepless night. He'd read the article, the many eyewitness accounts, then re-read it, and read it again. And, each time, he'd relived that blissful experience and berated himself all the same. Just seconds ago, he had had the distinct feeling that he could reenact the scene with the girl sitting in front of him. Mamoru was suddenly very worried about his immortal soul. Mamoru looked at his coffee cup dubiously...perhaps his interest in Odango was due to an overdose of caffeine. He'd never been much of a coffee drinker till the role of Tuxedo Mask began to take up most of his nights. Usagi had taken advantage of the few seconds of silence to regain her composure. Mamoru emerged from his silent chastisement to find her studying him somberly. "Why do you look so serious, Odango?" She remained still for a moment yet, then slowly reached across the table and touched her fingertip to his lower lip. She inspected the seam of his lips, was gratified when his lips parted on a silent breath of air, and dipped her finger inside to check for cuts. She found it. "Jesus!" Mamoru gasped out, jerking away from her touch as if she'd burned him. Usagi's hand fell to the table. His eyes had darkened into near-black. She thought she could drown in them if she let herself. Mamoru was having difficulty breathing. He'd been mesmerized. First curious at her objective, second shocked at her touch, then mesmerized by her gentle caress. The only thing that had saved his sanity was the painful prodding of the sore abrasion on the inside of his bottom lip. Now he could only rely on disbelief to get him through the array of uncomfortable feelings he was undergoing. "What the hell are you doing?!" Usagi was asking herself the same question. What had she been trying to prove? So WHAT if he had a cut on his lips? She KNEW he had one! The one whom she had to find a matching one on was Tuxedo Mask. What was wrong with her!! < It's him,> she thought somewhat desperately, But she already had an answer to that, an answer she refused to listen to. "I-I just wanted to see if you were still hurt," she supplied lamely. "Well, dam--er, darn it! Don't you think you could have just asked me?!" he demanded, feeling the heat barely start to dissipate from the general area of his lips. "God, first it's talking about French kissing, then it's sticking your fingers into guys' mouths!" He was slightly alarmed at his own thought. The picture of Odango treating other guys so... sensually...sent cold needles of anger down his spine. "I said it yesterday and I'll say it again, what has that boy you like been teaching you?! You're too young to go around doing stuff like that!" Usagi flushed angrily. "Nothing! He taught me noth--" Lips, soft and hard all at once, pressed urgently against her own. The gasps of her fellow classmates filling the air behind her and her own heartbeat resounding painfully within her. The way he tasted of semisweet chocolate...If that wasn't a learning experience, she didn't know what was. Her protests died a sudden death and she could only look at Mamoru helplessly, shrugging her shoulders. Mamoru's eyes widened at the telling gesture and he stopped blotting his lower lip with his napkin. It fell, unnoticed, to the table. If his eyes had darkened before, now they turned opaque. He looked at her confused, downcast face and gentled his voice. "So, that's the way it is, huh?" She forced herself to return his gaze, trying to communicate to him her questions, her demands. But, how could two people who looked so alike act so differently? And--and did they REALLY act differently? Could it be simply that there were facets to one she had only seen in the other? Because sometimes there was this tender edge to Mamoru's voice... But if it *wasn't* him?! God, what a humiliation that would be! "Hmm. Well, I suggest you be careful, Odango Atama. No matter what anyone tells you, boys really ARE after only one thing. Although I must say I'm surprised that you caught yourself a guy all by yourself. Maybe I should be warning the guy off instead, and not you." Usagi's head snapped up. There it was again, the customary sharp humor, the sarcastic grin and the sly amusement lurking in his eyes. At this moment, Mamoru had less of chance of being Tuxedo Mask than Umino did. But if she wanted to know for sure, one way to settle it once and for all... *********************************************************************** *********************************************************************** to be continued... Wheeeee! One more part down and...and...hmm, I don't know how many more to go. BTW, people, thank you so much for your advise on how deep to bury "anonymous boy on bike," as we will now refer to him. It seems the general concensus was 6 ft. Lucky me. Today's topic...should I kill the old man who asked me if I was buying a certain Sailor Moon shirt for my daughter? Talk amongst yourselves and then WRITE ME!! :) salaices@leland.stanford.edu