A/N: Okay, I was kidding. I wanted to add a little more to this story, and there may be more updates in the future. As for the setting, I envisioned it after everyone returned from Crystal Tokyo for the first time, but later it occurred to me that Usagi and Mamoru had reconciled by then. So, we're just going to pretend that didn't happen yet :) While I wrote this, I was listening to Telephone, by Lady Gaga.
Usagi wasn't sure what to expect from her evening, but she certainly did not foresee herself dancing with her latest archenemy in the middle of a crowded nightclub.
It all started with a proposal and a rejection. That afternoon, Usagi had tracked down her beloved Mamoru at Motoki's arcade and asked brightly if he would be interested in a milkshake and a movie. Mamoru had stood up with a sigh.
"I have plans already," he said while throwing change on the counter for his soda. "Besides, milkshakes and movies are childish, aren't they?" That being said, he left Usagi standing by the counter, feeling deflated and childish. Believing Mamoru to have more grown up things to do, Usagi retreated shame-facedly, ignoring Motoki's sympathetic gaze, feeling much too immature for Mamoru's tastes.
She had been fine until she happened upon Mamoru an hour later, strolling down the street with another girl, both sipping from milkshakes.
Jealousy was an ugly feeling. So was anger.
Usagi tore into her room like a category five hurricane, completely lost in her fury at Mamoru and the rest of the world, the pleasure of slamming her door a little too fleeting. A plan began to form in her mind – not a great one – but she was so angry at the time, it didn't really seem to matter how half-baked her plan was. She started scrounging around her room for make-up and allowance money.
Earlier in the week, she had overheard two girls at her school talking about a club called Roulette; they had been proud that the bouncer had let them in without IDs, bragging about how hot they had dressed that night. They might as well be eighteen, they told each other, for how grown-up they could look.
Usagi was very aware that her wardrobe was perfectly suited to her age. Thus, she would need a new outfit, hopefully one that came with a new personality that she could shrug on with the clothes and show the world that she was not a child. Usagi grabbed her bag and headed back out to the shopping district, ducking her mother and brother on the way out with an excuse about going to Rei's.
Some purchases and a marathon make-up session in a public bathroom later, there she was, successful in convincing the bouncer that she was eighteen without identification, standing in the middle of a throbbing, pounding mess of a nightclub.
It was here that the plan fell apart; what did one do in a nightclub? Many people were drinking, but that was out of the question. Getting in without an ID was one thing, but trying to get a drink without proof of age was much more difficult. Usagi smoothed her hands over her dress, admiring the deep violet of the material. The color was so different from the pale, sweet colors she normally wore, and when she looked in the mirror in the store dressing room, she felt that the girl looking back at her was someone new, someone different.
Usagi noticed that there were stools grouped around the bar, so she moved in that direction, wanting to sit and figure out what she should do next.
That was when he found her.
Curiously, Usagi didn't feel fear when she saw him. She knew him instantly; even without his black crescent moon, the white prince's pallor, purple eyes, and white hair gave him away. His clothes were different now, simple black pants and a white buttoned shirt, which she thought suited him well. Usagi looked past Dimande, wondering what Mamoru might do if he saw in the middle of that club, dressed so provocatively, with the man who tried to force a kiss on her.
Before Usagi's head could process what she was feeling, she had dragged her enemy out on the dance floor, and started dancing with him as if she danced with men in nightclubs regularly. Let him see me now, she had thought angrily as they started to move together. Let him see that I am wanted, that I am not a child, that I am not some little girl.
And now his face was pressed into her neck and his hands splayed across her thighs, his fingertips grazing the skin where her dress ended. She smiled as she tipped her head back against Dimande's chest and closed her eyes. She realized why people liked going clubbing so much; the music, so loud it was disorienting, was numbing. Reality didn't seem to exist outside of the packed club and time seemed to stretch into an infinity of loud music and sweaty bodies. Mamoru's rejection fell away, with her anger and bitterness.
The bass thudded with a vengeance, the music scaled and fell, tripping along with its hypnotic melody.
They lost themselves.