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my rodeo romeo [userpic]

if it is all that i can do, i'll remember you

Fandom: Sailor Moon (anime)
Warnings: Slightly purple, otherwise nothing
Characters: Haruka, Michiru
Summary: Michiru is awake and Haruka notices. Set some time in SuperS.
Author's note: A long, long time ago, bwlergh said "write me Haruka/Michiru fluff" and I said "they don't really lend themselves to fluff, but okay" and tonight I finally wrote something - a lot shorter than the time lag warrants and really not very fluffy at all and in fact in parts melancholy upon reflection but -

Hey, at least nobody gets sacrificed or shot or held hostage, so it's a step up from the canon, okay? :D


Michiru is awake.

Most observers would remain oblivious to this fact - that is, would not catch the slight change in rhythm in her breathing, feel the mattress shift subtly as she stirs, see the shadow of each eyelash quiver tentatively against her cheekbones as her eyelids threaten to flutter open - and just as Haruka catches these little details, Michiru catches the fact that Haruka is watching.

The latter is getting dressed, crossing their carpeted room in brisk strides; Michiru hears and feels this in the air as she keeps her eyes closed, the lingering peacefulness of sleep both somewhat unfamiliar and welcome as it envelopes her like the morning sun before seeping slowly away along the shadows, giving way to wakefulness.

When she speaks her voice is husky with sleep and, alert though her tone would suggest, her eyes remain closed.

"Are you in a hurry, Haruka?"

If she were to open her eyes now, she would see Haruka through vision blurry with sleep and too much exposure to the morning sun - Haruka's blonde hair wet and probably dripping just a little onto the carpet, wearing half her clothes and a small grin too aware to be entirely cocky, paused in the middle of their bedroom. "I am always on time, Michiru," she responds evenly, her amusement shining in her eyes. "It is someone else who is late."

Michiru's response is no more than a small smile that she trusts Haruka to catch in a passing glance or the understanding of long acquaintance. Haruka's voice comes now from the corner of the room as she dries her hair more thoroughly by the vanity.

"What did you dream of?"

The phantom chill of sheets drenched in cold sweat and waking at dawn with the end of the world burned firmly into her mind is a silent memory that has yet to disappear entirely from her consciousness - she doubts it ever shall. That word 'dream' - said with such light and hope by their Princess holding so much faith in the aspirations of the future, said with wry understanding by the two of them, until recently rarely unassociated with omens and dread – the word has come to be used so often that she could easily have forgotten the meaning commonly given to it.

Michiru rarely remembers her dreams nowadays - an odd thing to call a 'blessing', surely, but if nothing else it's that which makes a game of it all. She shifts on the bed and smiles. "Nothing."

The same amusement in Haruka's eyes permeates her voice as she approaches the bed, stray drops of water dotting out a careful trail. "Not at all?"

"Ah," Michiru replies, a teasing lilt to her tone striking and conspicuous for all her voice remains sleep-husky. "Were you hoping for a different answer?"

With these words she opens her eyes. Haruka's white shirt - unbuttoned casually, it sits just so across her frame, her figure consciously ambiguous under its crisp cotton lines - is cast in sun and shadow from the light that filters in through Venetian blinds. That borderline-smirk on Haruka's lips suggests the different answer they both were aware of and knew Michiru would not give – though she suspects that to dream of that particular subject matter would not be entirely difficult.

Haruka shoots her an amused glance – must you be so sharp so early in the morning? - and responds with a sweep of fringe half-concealing the laughter in her eyes. "Maybe."

Michiru has no illusions about her life. Whether these quiet, tender moments are the eye of the storm or the calm before it, the storm is the war they've chosen and she is long past the capability of even wishing it away. And yet -

Perhaps it is the lingering contentment of sleep. Here, like this, though she has never forgotten that they are soldiers, she has also never more acutely felt all the things they do not vocalise - that they are two girls who have found and chosen each other and are in love. Perhaps the morning light is deceptive as it drenches the world in a bath of gold, and yet – what is light is no less valid than what is dark and heavy, Michiru knows, and whichever of the three they may encounter in the future...

Being here like this, with Haruka, it’s very difficult to regret a single thing.

crossposted to personal journal.


Posted by: Morigawa Akumi (catchingspirit)
Posted at: March 22nd, 2009 12:04 pm (UTC)
sailormoon ♥  ami: poetry

This is so pretty ♥ I'm... re-reading it so many times because there's so much here and because it's all in such a normal, everyday interaction. It amazes me that you can put so much into it. I love this.

Posted by: my rodeo romeo (otiosism)
Posted at: March 22nd, 2009 12:10 pm (UTC)
choke the cherry

Eeee, I'm glad you like it. And at parts it felt overly purple, so I'm glad it seems to be the right amount of too-much, not an overdose of too much, and also wow, eloquence, i sure has it.

Posted by: Morigawa Akumi (catchingspirit)
Posted at: March 22nd, 2009 12:11 pm (UTC)
sailormoon ♥  fangirl moment

Absolutely not. Haruka and Michiru almost require at least a certain amount of 'purple', and I don't think you crossed the line. Nothing stood out to break the flow or make me eyeroll, it just came off like... them.

Posted by: my rodeo romeo (otiosism)
Posted at: March 22nd, 2009 12:19 pm (UTC)
falling not waving

Heh. They don't come off particularly purple to me, more... well one is aquamarine and the other is air-coloured. :P

Posted by: Morigawa Akumi (catchingspirit)
Posted at: March 22nd, 2009 12:22 pm (UTC)

I plead my colorblindness.

I dunno, all I really meant is that they have the whole 'elegance' thing going for them. They're pretty. Their prose needs to be pretty, too. Even if it borders on purple.

Posted by: my rodeo romeo (otiosism)
Posted at: March 22nd, 2009 12:28 pm (UTC)
this kind of beauty

Ha! Nah, I totally get what you mean, and you're right, hopefully.

So does this mean if I write Usagi it has to be really hyper and bouncy?

Posted by: Morigawa Akumi (catchingspirit)
Posted at: March 22nd, 2009 12:30 pm (UTC)
sailormoon ♥  sleep or food? <3

Never write Usagi. Ever.

Posted by: Victoria (bwlergh)
Posted at: March 23rd, 2009 01:37 pm (UTC)


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