docholligay:

captainofthekryptonspacemarines:

YESH!! OMG I AM SO HONORED! I’d like to request a ficlet of Michiru proposing to Haruka!

Here you go! Thanks for your help! 

Haruka moved in the world in a particular way, and that doomed her to certain responsibilities.

If she wanted to wear a man’s shirt, she had to accept a man’s chivalry, if she wanted to affect a man’s walk, she had to affect a man’s toughness, if she wanted to bring a girl flowers, she had to accept that flowers would never be brought to her. And mostly she lived with this tradeoff, and even delighted in the gallantry of her butchness, in opening doors and holding umbrellas, in the lovely small ways she could serve Michiru.

But sometimes, in the softer, smaller moments, when the petals fell from the cherry trees just right, or the moon hit the sea in that perfect sort of way, Haruka found herself wishing for the same soft things. Wishing she could accept them if she had them.

Michiru did try, bringing her flowers once at the garage, but Haruka had played it off as if she didn’t like them, embarrassed that she did in front of her friends. Michiru planned romantic candlelit dinners in private rooms and called her beautiful and read her poems while they laid on a blanket in vineyard, picnic spread out in front of them. Haruka loved her and felt loved by her.

But it would never be Haruka’s turn to really be the princess, for if Haruka had wanted to be the princess, she would have accepted the slipper.

If she wanted Michiru to marry her, and she wanted nothing more ardently than that, she would have to ask her.

These thoughts rolled through her head as she lay on the ground, staring up at the stars. The stars that had brought them together, the ones that threatened to tear them apart. But she was not thinking of any of that, only looking at the tiny sparkles in the sky, like the diamond chips that were all Haruka would be able to afford on her own.

“Haruka,” Michiru stroked her hair. “would you like some wine?”

Haruka looked up at her and grinned, trying to wipe away the cloud of worry from her mind. There would be another day to think on this. “Sure.”

Michiru poured the dark into the clear crystal, the fineness of it obvious in the light of the soft lantern, glittering and heavy. She handed it to Haruka and pulled a china plate rimmed in gold from the picnic basket her family’s cook had made. Sometimes Michiru liked things to be just so, to be very fine, and tonight must have been one of those nights, Haruka thought–the blanket was woven cashmere, the wine was out of her parents’ private cellar, she had brought a small vase of orchids, there was a box of cake tied with gold ribbon from the finest bakery in Tokyo that awaited–but Haruka liked being with her in the quiet near the sea, fine things or no.

She did, however, not object to Michiru’s beauty in the moonlight, the soft teal curl of her hair tied up in a pink ribbon and cascading down her shoulder to a soft navy silk blouse. She was a desperately beautiful woman, and it seemed as if Haruka had forgotten that every time she looked at her, and learned it again for the first time, gasping quietly with the shock of it.

She gave Haruka the glass of wine. “You are my dearest love, Haruka. There has never been a single person in my life I have ever felt such affection, and desire, and care,and so many words that I am quite afraid we will discover why I am much more the visual artist.”

Michiru stopped and took a drink of her wine. She seemed nervous, in the small ways only Haruka could tell, and Haruka wondered what she had to say, her mind whirring with the dozen fears of what it could be.

“Are you,” Haruka looked into her wine. “Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Michiru laughed, “of course. It’s simply that–Haruka, you are a beautiful and magnificent creature, and I never believed I would meet a woman like you. I never knew there were women like you, in the world, if I am being quiet honest.” She looked into Haruka’s eyes. “I want to give you everything.”

She set down her wine, and reached into her purse, pulling out a small box.

Haruka felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Was this it? What she’d wanted, even as she sat in the barber’s chair, asking him to go shorter on the sides? The thing she felt she couldn’t ask for?

She should have known Michiru never needed to be asked anything. She just knew.

Michiru arranged herself on her knees. “You’ll pardon me, but I am wearing a skirt.” She took a breath. “Haruka, you are wonderful, and brave, and beautiful, and so terribly good. Usagi may well be Sailor Neptune’s princess, but you are mine, and I devote myself to you fully. You would do me a great honor, if you assented–”

Haruka felt, in this moment, that she might cry.

“Miss Haruka Tenno,” she cracked open the box to reveal a gold band. “Would you marry me?”

The four words Haruka only ever expected to hear off her own tongue twisted in the sea air, and she felt dam break inside her, tears streaming down her face as she sniffled.

“If you find it that appalling, you may certainly turn me aside.” But she smiled when she said it.

Haruka shook her head and laughed. “Michiru, I–this is really great–I’d love to marry you, of course-I–”

Michiru leaned forward off her knees and hugged Haruka tightly. “I wanted to do it here, in case it embarrassed you.”

Haruka sniffled against her shoulder. “I love you so much, Michi.”

Michiru kissed her temple softly and pulled away, smiling brightly, with all her teeth, in the way she never did. “Now you may say there has been a Kaioh on her knees in front of you, and I trust you know how exceptionally rare that claim must be.”

“I can’t wait to marry you, Michiru.” She slipped the ring on her finger. A perfect fit.

“I had the kitchen make all your favorite things.” she unpacked them happily onto the blanket.

Haruka opened the white box with the elegant script and gold ribbon. “Oh my god, it’s chocolate raspberry.” She looked over at Michiru. “I am the luckiest woman alive. And champagne! Why didn’t you pour that?”

Michiru giggled, younger and lighter on her feet than Haruka had ever seen her. ‘Why, you think you would have gotten either the cake or champagne if you had been so gauche as to say no?”

Haruka kissed her, tasting the wine between them, sweet and dark and intoxicating. The powerless stars glittered on above, and whatever stories they foretold, the lovers could not hear them, wrapped in writing their own ending.