Notes and Disclaimers: All characters herein are the property of Takeuchi Naoko, Kodansha and Toei. They are also, in some sense, the property of those of us who love them so much we continue to tell tales about them, long after the anime and manga have ended.
This story is dedicated to Outers fans everywhere. Let me know if you like it at firstname.lastname@example.org It is no more than a twiddle of a scene, but doesn’t seem to fit with any longer story, so enjoy,
“I’m taking you out to dinner! My treat!” Haruka beamed at Michiru, as she lowered the newspaper to the table.
“Oh?” Michiru inquired, one eyebrow raised. “What’s the occasion? You didn’t happen to remember our anniversary or anything, did you?”
Haruka sputtered in confusion as she pondered this. “Hey – wait a second, our anniversary isn’t for another three months.” The blonde emerged at the other end of the thought process, triumphant.
Michiru giggled. “Just checking. I have to, or you *might* forget and begin to take me for granted.”
Haruka shot Michiru a wounded look. “I could never take you for granted.”
Setsuna entered the room, saving Haruka from what likely would have been an extremely tart rejoinder. The blonde, fully cognizant of her last minute escape, glanced up at the older woman.
“You too, Setsuna! And Hotaru, of course.”
“Me too, and Hotaru of course, what?” Setsuna’s voice was mildly amused at the non-sequitor.
“Haruka’s taking us out to dinner.” Michiru said, with a grin. “She hasn’t divulged the occasion, though.”
“Oh?” Setsuna inquired. “Let me see if I can guess.” She closed her eyes and pondered. “Something to do with, oh, let’s see…Formula One racing?”
Haruka gaped as the enigmatic green-haired woman opened her eyes and smiled.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Setsuna purred with satisfaction.
Haruka nodded. “But how did you know?”
Setsuna gave what can only be described as a “French” shrug. “You know my methods, Watson.” She turned towards the kitchen and began making breakfast.
Haruka glanced at Michiru, her eyes huge. “How does she do that?”
Michiru laughed into her hand and pointed at the newspaper. Haruka glanced down at the sports pages she had been reading. “Ferrari team takes F-1 trophy!” was printed in huge type across the sheet, with a slightly less insistent “Schumacher wins Japanese Grand Prix” underneath.
Blushing, Haruka laughed.
Setsuna joined them at the table, sipping from a coffee cup. Haruka grinned at the older woman. “Pretty good, Holmes.”
“Elementary.” Setsuna answered with a smile.