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Michiru’s hands rest on the steering wheel, thumb tapping against the leather. The car hums softly as it idles, parked in the pickup lane of the train station. As she waits, a shiver runs up her spine. A quick gasp rushes through her teeth, breath fogging in the air.
It’s very cold for November.
The light snowfall is lovely, Michiru can admit, but it’s rather chilly today. Despite being in a car, a 1980 Ferrari 400 to be exact, the heater isn’t the best. Her fur lined coat makes up for its shortfall, but she much prefers somewhere warmer. Maybe with a cocktail in hand and Haruka sitting next to her in those tacky short-shorts they insist are fashionable.
Unfortunately, there is no palm tree in sight.
With a sigh, Michiru scans the passersby who walk in and out the station. She occasionally glances in her rear view mirror in case they’re coming from behind. But they’re nowhere in sight.
Michiru looks down at her wristwatch.
They’re 15 minutes late.
She’s not totally surprised, but having to wait is still annoying, especially when young men keep trying to take selfies in front of her car. Haruka usually revels in the attention, getting out of the car and chit chatting with them about all manner of automobiles, but Michiru is the exact opposite. She’s usually quiet and seclusionary unless someone asks politely.
As Michiru continues to scan the area, a young man stops in front of her car, and you guessed it, takes a selfie. She really doesn't care anymore until the man lifts up his foot, attempting to lean on the front bumper.
*HONK!!*
The young man flinches at the sudden noise, losing his footing and dropping his phone in the process. He lands on the pavement covered with a thin layer of snow. He groans loudly, cussing in frustration for falling. Michiru has zero remorse. In fact, she hopes his screen cracked and his pants are soaked.
That’ll teach him to take unflattering selfies in front of strangers’ cars.
“Honestly,” Michiru mumbles to herself as he scurries away. “What are you going to do? Post it? It’s not even your car.” She retracts her hands from the wheel, tucking them into her pockets instead.
Of course, Haruka told her to take the Ferrari, since her Bentley Arnage is in the shop. Michiru happily complied, but the car is by no means her favorite. It stands out like a sore thumb, creating the problem she has just witnessed yet again. She’d never admit it to their lover the truth, however. With such a beautiful face, she could never say no to them. Except for the Delorean.
That was her limit.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
Michiru turns to see Minako, dressed in a rather tasteful wool coat and jeans, knocking on the passenger side window. The bluenette quickly unlocks the car, letting the younger girl open the car door.
“Shotgun!” Mina exclaims, over her shoulder. Michiru sees Usagi standing behind her, frowning.
“Oh. Ok,” she breathes out. Mina happily pushes the seat back, allowing Usagi to crawl into the back seat.
“Good Morning,” Michiru greets, watching the younger girl settle in the back seat. But rather than reply, Usagi smooths down her pink puffer jacket and tan skirt, all while looking down at the center console. After strapping in, she looks out the window, quietly.
Too quietly.
Even the blind could tell something is wrong, but Michiru doesn't push it. Rather, she takes note.
—
“Oh! Look at this one!” Mina exclaims, running through the store. She zips through the aisles with relative ease, not willing to wait for her companions. Michiru doesn't mind. She'd much rather stay behind with Usagi. She seems more in need of her company than Mina.
“How are your classes?” Michiru asks, attempting to start some small talk. Usagi keeps her stare forward, walking slowly alongside her.
“They’re fine,” she replies, quick and simple.
That worries Michiru.
Normally, Usagi would go off on a tirade, then get distracted and talk about something else. So something definitely seems wrong.
Michiru opens her mouth, but pauses when Usagi stops. Her hand reaches out to a fluffy pink turtleneck. Its vibrant neon hue hurts her eyes, but the younger girl seems to like it. She picks up the sleeve, feeling the soft fabric under her fingertips.
“It’s so soft,” she states.
Michiru reaches out, touching it too. “It’s lovely.” She looks at the collar, opening up to see the tag. “Merino wool too. You should try it on.”
She perks up. “You think so? It’s not too childish?”
Michiru shakes her head. “No. I think it's cute.” This makes Usagi smile. The first smile she’s seen all day.
As Usagi grabs the turtleneck by the hanger, Minako walks up behind her.
“Finally,” she breathes out. “It’s about time you picked something out.”
Usagi lets out an awkward laugh as she pats her shoulder. “Feeling better?” she asks, making Michiru raise a brow.
“Are you alright?”
Usagi who starts to blush. Her face matches the neon pink turtleneck tucked over her arm.
“Aw, come on,” Mina elbows her playfully. “You can tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
“No,” Usagi pulls the sweater up over her face. “It’s dumb.”
“I won’t judge,” Michiru comforts. “Nor pry. You don’t have to tell me anything unless you want to.” She scowls to Mina, making sure there is no peer pressure at play. Mina raises her hands in surrender, remaining silent for her own sake.
“I-” Usagi starts, looking around the store to make sure no one was around. “I had a fight with Mamo this morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear.” It’s the only thing Michiru could say while keeping neutral ground. Hearing that someone, especially Usagi, having an argument isn’t uncommon, but it’s not something to take lightly. “If I may ask, what was it about?” she asks.
Usagi looks away, a bit ashamed. “It was about something really dumb.” This makes Mina smile, keeping down what seems to be a giggle. Michiru doesn't find this funny at all.
“It clearly wasn’t if you two argued.”
Usagi hides her face in the sweater. “It was,” she mumbles in the soft fabric. She groans in embarrassment, unable to meet the bluenette’s worried gaze.
“Have you heard of the Orange Peel Theory?” Mina finally buts in. Michiru raises a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. She thinks through a bit, but knows either girl will explain it to her in great detail regardless.
She shakes her head. “Enlighten me.”
“Well,” Mina starts, clasping her hands together. “The Orange Peel theory is like a boyfriend, or partner, test to determine if your love is real.”
Michiru rolls her eyes. Another pop culture passtime set to ruin relationships on trivial matters. She should have known.
“It’s where you ask your SO (Significant Other) to peel an orange for you. It’s a pretty simple task that anyone can do for themselves, right? BUT, if you ask them and they do it for you, no questions asked, it means your love is real.”
Michiru grins at such a test. “It seems unreasonable to place so much emotional weight on a fruit.”
“It doesn't have to be peeling an orange, though,” Mina continues. “It could be asking them to grab you a tampon, or folding the laundry. It’s to see their reaction when you ask them and whether or not they’re genuinely committed to you.”
“Huh,” Michiru gets it. She understands the logic, but she still agrees with her previous statement.
“So, I assume Mamoru didn’t pass the test?”
Usagi nods, growing teary-eyed. “He said he didn’t understand why I asked him. He even called me dumb. Then he left!”
“Well that’s a bit rude,” Michiru replies.
“That’s what I said!” Mina agrees, but this makes Usagi feel even worse.
“Our relationship is doomed!” Usagi starts to bawl in the middle of the store. Mina tries to comfort her, glaring at any on-lookers that pass by. Michiru can’t help but smile at their antics. After everything they’ve been through, they’re still sensitive young girls.
“Usagi,” Michiru hums gently, placing her hands on her shoulders. “You have every right to feel this way.” she starts. “But your relationship isn’t in jeopardy.”
“Really?” Usagi sniffs, lifting her head from the now slightly damp sweater. Michiru nods, hand moving up to wipe away her tears. “This has clearly upset you, and I’m sure he is too. So, you two just need to sit down and talk about this.”
Usagi takes a deep breath, calming herself down. As she wipes away her tears, then she starts to laugh. It’s all a bit nonsensical, but Michiru is right. She should talk to Mamoru about this, even if it does seem small.
“Now, let's try this on, then we can go to that little cafe around the corner.”
“Yay!” the two exclaim, jogging towards the fitting room. Michiru walks elegantly behind them, smiling to herself.
—
“I’m home,” Michiru exclaims.
But the only thing that greets her is her echo.
At this hour, Haruka should be home. They haven’t texted to say otherwise. It seems odd to have no response. Maybe they’re preoccupied.
Regardless, she’ll give them a few minutes before searching the house.
After taking off her coat and boots, Michiru starts the process of settling down for the evening. She sets her shopping haul at the foot of the stairs, then walks to the kitchen.
Michiru looks out the windows of their home, overlooking the bay. The sun has since set, letting the glow of the night skyline glisten against the water. It’s nice, but the home is almost in total darkness. So, as she continues her short journey, she turns on every lamp and light in arm’s reach.
When she reaches the open kitchen, most of the area is now fully lit. Their house illuminates a homely tranquility. The walls, decorated with tasteful wallpaper with accenting palettes, are covered with colorful works of art and pictures of family and friends.
No white and beige for these two.
Haruka especially. Their tastes are more akin to a 1960s business tycoon than a young queer person in the city. Michiru doesn't mind. Mid century modern antiques and textured upholstery give their home character. Their kitchen, however, is the only somewhat plain room in the house. It is by no means lacking in elegance, with its dark blue cabinetry and white marble countertops. It should be on the cover of a home magazine, but the room usually remains unused.
Michiru is the only one who cooks of the two. To be fair, Haruka does use the microwave, but other than the occasional frozen dinner, they rely on her or take out.
Speaking of dinner, Michiru should probably figure out what they’re having.
“Haruka?” Michiru calls out to them again. She opens the fridge, pawing through leftovers and fresh produce until she sees-
An orange.
The bluenette starts to grin, holding back a giggle as she eyes the fruit. She reaches out to grab it, but she notices an odd noise.
A pounding rhythm below her feet. It’s faint, but noticeable since the house is relatively quiet.
Michiru’s smile grows wider with the realization that she now knows exactly where Haruka is. With a skip in her step, she makes her way through the hallway and down the stairs into the basement/home gym. There, she is greeted by a rather pleasant sight.
Haruka, in short-shorts with spandex and a tank top, runs on the treadmill. On their face is an elevation mask, covering their mouth and nose. Sweat runs down their face in droves, highlighting the redness in their cheeks. Their skin glistens under the incandescent lights with sweat, staining their back and pits. It seems they’ve been running for a while. The earphones they wear are bulky, probably blasting their god-awful workout playlist.
Michiru has tried, but she simply can’t stand dubstep. It just sounds like metal being thrown down the stairs.
Rather than call out to them again, she struts slowly to the weight bench conveniently set in front of the treadmill. She lifts her skirt up slightly as she takes a seat, giving view to her legs as she crosses them. Her eyes are on Haruka scanning their frame from their feet to their face. As their eyes meet, Haruka’s determined gaze softens, then drifts down to Michiru’s teasing legs.
Haruka shuts off the treadmill, slowing into a light trot until coming to a complete stop. “Hey-“ they start, taking off the mask. “How were they? Any fun gossip?”
Michiru rolls her eyes. “Minako is thinking about studying abroad.” As she speaks, she grabs a towel conveniently hanging nearby.
“Oh yeah? Where to?” Haruka asks, hopping off the treadmill.
“California.” Michiru replies, standing and strutting towards their lover. She holds out the towel, to which they happily accept.
“Catalina is nice this time of year,” their voice is muffled, wiping their sweaty faces off. They wrap the towel around their neck, smiling sweetly at her. They open their arms, and without hesitation, Michiru accepts,
despite how sweaty they are.
“It’s so cold here, maybe we should take a weekend?” As Haruka says after pressing a kiss onto her forehead. Michiru wraps her arms around their waist, face buried in their chest. She breathes in deeply, making them laugh. Their low laugh vibrates against her nose. They rest an arm on her shoulders, chuckling as she breathes in again.
“You’re gross.”
Michiru hums against their chest. “Only for you,” she replies, hiding her smile. She feels a hand creep up her shoulder and tangle in her hair. Fingers grip her locks tightly yet gently, pulling her face away to look up.
She meets Haruka’s gaze, eyes filled with desire. She tries to inch closer, standing on her tip-toes, but they keep her head in place. She groans, hands sliding down to their lover’s butt. She squeezes, but rather than earning a moan, Haruka pulls her head up, inches from their lips. But rather than kiss, the two stare into each other’s eyes, occasionally glancing at their lips.
Haruka lets a few moments pass, letting the tension build before leaning down and kissing Michiru. It’s open mouthed and full tongue. Neither holds back.
Haruka swallows her groans as they pull her hair tighter. Her sounds egg them on.
They’re tongue tied for a full minute until Haruka breaks away with a huff. Michiru’s mouth drops open, panting hot breaths against their lips.
“What do you want for dinner?” Haruka asks plainly. Michiru lets out a hearty laugh, sliding her hands up and onto their chest. She playfully pushes them, annoyed by their teasing.
“You are such a-,” Michiru tuts rather than finishes her sentence. As she turns, she flips back her hair, giving them a devilish smirk.
“Could you peel an orange for me?”
Haruka raises a brow.
“An orange?”
Michiru nods, biting her inner cheek to hold back her smile.
“I may have eaten the last one,” Haruka states.
Michiru bites her cheek harder, but stops when they take her hand. She relaxes as Haruka guides her up the stairs.
“Do you want me to go out and get some more?” They ask as the two make their way into the kitchen. Before Michiru could answer, her lover opens the fridge.
“Ah-Ha!” Haruka cheers, finding the last one. They hold the fruit up triumphantly to her. “Last one,” they say, before setting it down on the kitchen island. Michiru takes a seat in one of the stools nearby, watching her lover grab a plate and knife from their respective cabinets then make quick work in peeling the orange.
Michiru has to admit, Haruka is pretty sexy right now.
Still in their gym clothes just minutes after their workout, their partner, darling, love of her life, is peeling her an orange. No questions asked. Michiru isn’t even a big fan of oranges, and Haruka knows this. She’s lost in thought on how something so simple could mean so much, until a plate slides to her.
“Here ya go,” they state proudly as they clean up the scraps.
Michiru can’t help but marvel at the sight. Neatly placed in a circular pattern are skillfully peeled and sliced oranges. With such care and precision, it almost brings a tear to her eye.
Haruka passed the test.
Michiru can’t help but smile as they take a seat next to her on a neighboring stool. She watches them take a slice, bringing it up to their lips and taking a bite. Juice trickles down their chin and drips onto their shirt. She stares for a few moments, then lets a chuckle escape her lips.
Haruka turns to her, raising a brow. This makes the bluenette start to laugh even more. It’s almost hysterical, and out of nowhere? It’s a bit unnerving.
Haruka looks on, still snacking on the fruit. “What?” they ask innocently.
Michiru wipes away a tear as her laughs die down. She settles into a comfortable chuckle, then grabs a slice. “Have you ever heard of the orange peel theory?” she asks, then pops the slice into her mouth.
Haruka thinks for a moment, then shakes their head.
“It’s a test,” Michiru starts. “Where you ask your partner if they could peel an orange for you. If they do, your love is real.”
Haruka laughs, almost spitting out the orange slice. After they choke it back, the two continue to chuckle, amused by the whole situation. A situation that has made them both more enamored by each other. Their bedroom eyes are even hungrier, and the orange simply won’t suffice anymore.
“So,” Haruka purrs, grabbing Michiru’s stool and pulling her closer to them. They lean down, a stupid grin gracing their lips. “Did I pass?”
Michiru takes a slice from the plate, bringing it up to her lover’s lips. Haruka happily lets her feed them, her finger tips tracing their lips.
“With flying colors.”
Michiru’s hand moves from their lips to the back of their head. As she grips their hair, Haruka leans down, sharing yet another deep kiss, tasting of orange.