Here you go, guys. It's been two weeks, so that the two years later that I'm presenting to you now feel at least slightly appropriately accurate ;)

Thank you so much, to everyone who read, and especially those who reviewed, for sticking around! It has been a joy to write for you!

And thank you, especially, always always always, to my beta Uglygreenjacket, who sticks with me through all my stories, and still cheers me on. Thank you so much, love!

And thank you, also, to my husband. He reads all my fics, and helps me brainstorm, and this epilogue was his idea, and he's so proud of me for writing, and I met him 8 years ago today.

Epilogue

Mamoru pushed the oven door shut with his hip and adjusted the temperature slightly before he turned the faucet, clogged the drain and proceeded to place his used bowls and spatula into the sink, detached the steel beaters from his electric mixer, and pushed the lever of the plastic dish soap bottle two, three, four times to get started.

Of course, he had a dishwasher. But there was something relaxing to him that came with the rush of the running water, the foam and the assurance that he stood by the oven should his sponge cheesecake suddenly decide to inflate, or his kitchen go up in flames. Plus, to him, it was a singularly meditative task, the way it brought his mind to a wind down and kept it focused by the rhythmic clicking of his magnetic kitchen timer against the side of the fridge and the low thrum of the oven at work, while his hands had something to do. He enjoyed it.

But then he was done, and the kitchen was clean, but the cake wasn't done. And since it was a trickier kind of recipe that he'd needed Makoto's expertise on before, he'd loathed to leave it alone, and so he opened his kitchen cabinets for some long-awaited de-cluttering just to excuse his prolonged fixation on the illuminated oven-door.

His eyes singled out the toaster immediately.

Pastel-colored, embellished by a greater-than sign, less-than sign and periods forming a stylistic face that was supposed to look adorable on a toaster in form of a uniquely Japanese emoji, and it was never ever used.

It had to go.

Of course, the moment he'd made it out of the kitchen with the metallic box in hand was the moment the lock finally turned and Usagi came poltering into the apartment. He couldn't help the way his lips twitched.

"I'M SO SORRY, I'M SO LATE, I DIDN'T— What are you doing?"

Mamoru froze, clutching the toaster to his chest with both hands in flagrante delicto.

"Two years, Usako. We agreed to throw it out almost two years ago," he defended himself.

Usagi's look was absolutely appalled, and, dropping her bags unceremoniously, she ripped it out of Mamoru's hands and clutched it protectively against her chest.

"I won a bet on it. Remember, the goldfish? I'm allowed to throw this out," Mamoru reasoned.

"That never happened," she growled.

"Uh huh."

"Besides, that was, like, one and a half years ago, not two," she said in a glare.

"Aha," he said. "So, you admit it happened."

"No, it didn't happen!" she cried, furious.

He rolled his eyes.

"It has a name," Usagi grumbled, stroking the metal as one would a kitten.

Mamoru snorted, eyebrows raised incredulously, and looked at her as if she'd declared she now loved advanced integral calculus.

"It has a name, which means it has feelings!" she said, and Mamoru swore he saw her leg twitch, but she caught herself just before she stomped it.

Mamoru shook his head, rolling his eyes in a way that made her narrow hers. "You gave it a name. It's a machine!"

"So, what!"

"It's an object!" he said, pronouncing every word extra carefully.

"So, poor Mimi needs to suffer, because you don't have a heart?" Her eyes were still narrow, hand stroking colored metal of the endangered toaster.

A frustrated huff escaped his nostrils.

"It's the prettiest thing you own!" she cried, hugging it tighter.

"Because it was a present! And now I don't need it, and we don't have the space," he said slowly.

"Of course, we have the space!" she yelped, all accusation and indignation. And with that, Usagi stalked into the living room, and Mamoru after her.

"We already have a different toaster!" Mamoru called after her, following on her heels. "You've never used this one," he said. And he was right. They had her super expensive wonder machine that she had absolutely NEEDED to get for Christmas, and he'd complied. "One that you made like, two separate wildly inappropriate vlogs about, because you love it so much."

"You leave Balmuda out of this!" Usagi whirled around, stopping just by the entrance of the kitchen, appalled, cradling the pastel toaster against her chest like she usually would Luna, and started petting and mumbling towards it, whispering. "He doesn't mean it, Mimi. We still need you for Poptarts."

"Oh, for the love of god," he groaned, and shook his head slowly, incredulously. "You know what also has a name?" he said.

"What?"

Mamoru pointed at the two cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. Meant originally for her part of their joint study that was her former bedroom, they were blocking his bookshelf for months now, collecting dust, in a way that the small IKEA print on the side could no longer be read.

Usagi glared.

"That's different," she growled.

"Oh," he said, voice turning obnoxious, even he heard it yet couldn't care less, as the corners of his lips started to twitch into a smirk. "So, poor Micke over there is allowed to suffer because you've been too lazy to set her up after you dragged me all the way out there - out of nowhere, because you needed it NOW MAMO-CHAN IT CAN'T WAIT!" His voice had risen in pitch, trying to mimic hers, and with every word her lips pursed a little harder.

She looked pretty adorable with that furious glare on her face, he couldn't help admitting that.

"It's been three months, Usako," he threw at her. His eyebrow was raised. He knew he was grinning, enjoying this too much.

Her voice grunted a little – or mewled, it was too high for a grunt, her face scrunched up in a massive glare. And with that, she shoved the gold and white and rosé toaster into his chest. It was a little hard, and he 'oompfed' in surprise, and flexed his fingers around the metal in reflex.

"Fine," she hmpfed. "Be that way."

But upon walking away, he could just about glimpse her lips falling into the saddest, most tragic pout he'd ever seen on her, and suddenly all the fun he'd had with the situation evaporated in an instant.

"Ok, ok!" he called after her, when she'd already left the room. "The toaster can stay!"

But he didn't catch any reply, because at that moment, his kitchen timer went off, and he flew back into the kitchen with a curse on his lips, because he'd completely forgotten to watch his cake like a hawk.

He placed the toaster on the counter with a little thud and lowered himself to his knees in front of the oven.

He exhaled. It hadn't deflated.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he opened the oven door.

Usagi's hands slung around his arm, as if she'd appeared out of thin air.

"It smells delicious, Mamo-chan," she purred.

He rolled his eyes through his smirk and opened the oven door fully, before he reached up to push his hands into his oven mitts, and Usagi's hands moved from his arms to claw into his dress shirt like a hungry, little koala.

It looked delicious, too.

Even Luna padded into the kitchen, her little nose sniffing the air, when he extracted the cake from the oven and moved it over to the wire rack.

It steamed and wriggled, when he peeled the baking paper from it.

Usagi let out a contented, blissful sigh that caused the pride in him to puff up even more.

"You sure we have to bring it?" she said mournfully. "We can't eat it now?"

He chuckled. "The faster you get ready, the faster we're out the door, and the faster you can eat this," he said.

She was out of the room faster than he could blink, and he chuckled again.

He transferred the cake into his carrier box, placed it into his largest linen bag and stacked the boxes of strawberries and cream he'd prepared as sides for the cake, beforehand, on top of it, before he turned and scratched Luna underneath the chin.

Luna, as well, was all purr, and his smirk turned even wider, when she ducked her little head and pushed soft dark fur against his hand and wrist in a little headbutt.

He was just slipping his apron off and over his head when Usagi was back in the room, naked now except for her pale and lacy underwear, holding two more casual dresses out by the hangers in each hand.

"The beige one or the black one?" she asked, holding up two peter pan collared dresses in turn, and he managed to glance at the dresses and not just her legs and breasts and collarbone, and nodded towards one.

"The beige one," he murmured, distracted, and bit his lip just before she jumped back out of his sight.

She came out of their bedroom wearing the black one not much later, fastening a little, cream-colored, slender belt around her waist, and he rolled his eyes in an amused snort, even when she turned and craned her neck wordlessly, and he zipped her up all the way and closed the little hook on her collar.

He placed a small peck of a kiss against her neck when he was done, and she giggled in return, before dashing off again.

It was only minutes later that he hefted the linen bag over his shoulder, and they walked through nighttime Juuban, dodging cheerful young people and salarymen as they made their way past illuminated conbinis and crowded izakayas with her hand snuggly in his.

As per usual, Usagi stiffened up a little when they approached the rather elegant looking building and its marble steps, and he turned back towards her with a reassuring smile that she returned wholeheartedly, and that still managed to throw him a little.

"We brought dessert!" Usagi announced brightly, holding out his linen bag with both hands and a giant smile, once the door opened up only a nudge.

"Of course, you did." Saori smiled, and stood aside to let them in.

Kobayashi greeted Usagi in a giant bear hug, lifting her up briefly as he did so, while Mamoru turned to Saori.

He greeted her with a hug, too. It was awkward and weird, and they both were stiff while doing so, but Saori's eyes were warm when they landed back on him, and she stepped back as Kobayashi thrust out his hand in Mamoru's direction.

It had taken them more than a year to finally be comfortable around each other again, especially in this constellation. And a little bit more before they'd started this tradition that must be weird for anyone who knew their story. But every four or five weeks, they met for dinner. Always here, at Saori and Kobayashi's new apartment. It was neutral ground after all – an apartment that didn't house different sets of memories for any of them.

"Sooooo," Kobayashi smirked at him. "Beautiful rendition of Katy Perry, there."

Mamoru groaned. He would never, ever, ever be able to live that particular appearance on Usagi's vlog down. That day that Usagi had begged and begged and begged and he had relented, and now there was this video on the internet where half a million subscribers – so far – had watched him drink the entire cocktail card of this posh and hip bar in Juuban with Minako of all people. And turns out, smashed past a certain point, he liked to sing.

But, of course, it broke the ice, because Kobayashi was good at that, and had Usagi in whoops and Saori in modest giggles immediately.

And so Kobayashi had Usagi settle on their big, stylish couch and prattle on about her coming vlogs (she was currently filming a series where she was testing and rating all the Japanese chain restaurants against each other), because everybody had long learned that Usagi was no help in the kitchen, and so it was Mamoru who followed dutifully after Saori, and started to peel the carrots for the dashi rice dish he knew by heart, because it was Saori's favorite.

They worked in silence and side by side, and it was like clockwork, because they'd made it together about a thousand times. And while this had been weird three months ago, it was now strangely reassuring.

His gaze kept glancing back to her cutting board beside him. Or more precisely, to the ring on the finger of her left hand. A ring that had not been on her finger the last time he had seen her.

He refrained from asking her about it, though. And so, the only sound between them was the soft thuds of the knife on his cutting board, and the rush of water as she moved to wash the rice.

Instead, he asked something else. His voice quiet, and his gaze on the carrots and the knife and not on her.

"Are you happy?"

Her hands stilled, and she turned the faucet off and moved the sieve a little, before she spoke.

"I am," she said, with a little nod, and conviction, but a heavy frown.

Then her gaze turned, and he felt her eyes on him.

She looked so apologetic, when he moved, finally, to meet her eyes.

"It's totally horrible to say, right?" she said. "But… you were right. I'm… Kobayashi and I are really happy. It's…" She'd turned her eyes back to the rice, moved it into her heavy pot and poured the mirin and dashi and soy sauce mixture in carefully with stiff fingers.

"Different," he finished for her with a nod.

He saw her swallow and nod. "Yes," she said, and bit her lip. "Yes."

Then those eyes again, green and so sorry. "Yes, very different," she said. "You?"

It was then that Usagi came hopping into the kitchen, exclaiming loudly, eyes wide and bright and beautiful and full of excitement and so very Usagi.

"Oh my god, Mamo-chan?! Did you know that Kobayashi was in an episode of Terrace House once?!"

Mamoru rolled his eyes to the ceiling but couldn't help the smile, and Saori giggled, and he could barely say the words, "Yes, unfortunately I do know that," before Usagi had vanished again – loudly, demanding more details from Kobayashi and threatening to call Minako, and he gently placed the filet stripes in the sizzling, sugary broth with the carrots.

Saori giggled behind her hand, and Mamoru shrugged at her with a smile in his eyes.

"Yes," he said. "I am. I'm very, very happy."

Saori's smile was the old one. The really old one. The good one.

"Good," she said.

It was after they'd all settled at the table, after Usagi and Kobayashi had charmed the table with their ridiculous stories, after Usagi had gleefully presented the cake as if she'd made it and not him, and moaned her way through it, that Kobayashi clinked his little golden fork against his champagne flute, and held his glass up afterward for a toast.

"Soooo," he said once more, with that equal smirk and gleam in his eyes from before. But this time it wasn't Mamoru's drunken internet fame that he commented with that look.

"Guess who just got promoted?" Kobayashi asked with shining, happy eyes.

Usagi cocked her head, and his brow furrowed, and he just so caught Saori blushing.

Mamoru's eyes widened. "No way! Oh my god! Saori!" he exclaimed.

"What? What?" Usagi asked, looking from eyes to eyes.

Kobayashi's chest puffed up oh so proudly, and he lifted his glass even higher. "Meet the first female chief of police in Tokyo!"

Usagi shrieked, and Saori giggled, proudly, nodding.

Mamoru jumped up. Flew around the table. Engulfed Saori in a giant, tight hug, that for once, wasn't uncomfortable or stiff at all.

"First ever female and youngest ever chief of police!" Kobayashi continued proudly.

Saori's eyes shined in happiness when he let go of her, met Usagi's eyes almost shyly as her high-pitched shrieks turned into wow's and congratulations.

"And also," Saori said, biting her lip and held up her ring. "We're getting married next October..."

At this, Mamoru grew quiet. Instead, Usagi engulfed Saori in a hug, and then Kobayashi. His arms fell back to his sides, and then he smiled. "I'm really, really happy for you. Both of you," he said.

Kobayashi's nod at him was full of meaning. More than he could catch.

When they walked back home, he held her hand a little tighter.

It had rained while they'd been at Saori's and Kobayashi's, and so the streets glistened wetly and reflected the colorful lights of the neon signs and street lamps, and the cars that went by left behind that distinct sound of wet wheels on asphalt.

It had turned a little chilly. The streets were emptier now, even when the odd salaryman still stumbled drunkenly out of the odd izakaya, and Usagi was uncharacteristically silent.

He turned his eyes to her, when he noticed the slight shiver. Shrugged out of his blazer, even when he held her gaze, and dropped it across her shoulders. Her smile was bright and grateful, and her nose wrinkled in that adorable way that would do things to his gut even when they were old and grey, and he grabbed her hand again and laced their fingers together.

A lot had changed in the past one and a half years. And a lot had stayed the same.

The fairy lights were still strung around her bed frame, even when the bed had moved into what used to be his single bedroom and replaced his old one. A ton of rubbish now cluttered his apartment he'd never have expected to have strewn around his living space. Luna accepted Mamoru-cuddles now, and he still saw Reika and Motoki a lot, except now Usagi had made it into her mission to make game nights into ridiculous tournaments, and they were now more fun than he had ever expected to have. He'd also not expected to be part of regular after-hours cake splurging at Makoto's Pastry Garden, or to not even flinch anymore when Minako wildly appeared in his apartment at odd hours, or to be in Makoto's wedding party, but this was his life now, and he would not change it for the world.

Some things had changed for Usagi as well, of course. She was very vocal about the fact that she had never expected to wear ironed underwear, for one.

"It's pretty cool that we now know Tokyo's chief of police, isn't it?" Usagi said, breaking the silence.

He threw her a look, drew her a little closer as they dodged the man exiting Lawson's beside them, and slung his arm around her.

"Why, are you planning to rob someone?" he joked, but she just shrugged.

"I loved what you guys cooked," Usagi said instead.

He noticed it, suddenly. The slight tenseness in her shoulders, and how she searched for things to talk about that wasn't Saori's new engagement.

He stopped her.

Usagi blinked up at him, crossed her arms underneath his jacket, stood a little hunched, the white and blue of Lawson's neon sign reflecting off of her, and a taxi drove by behind her to the sound of wet ground.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he interrupted her before she could express the 'nothing' he could already read on her lips.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, ducking his head now to catch her eyes.

She shrugged awkwardly. "You got so quiet when…" She frowned, broke off. "When Saori said they'd…"

He cocked his head, blinking, confused.

She shook her head, dismissing, and he shook his, too, in disagreement.

"What are you worried about?" he asked.

She pursed her lips, addressed his shoes. "Do you regret it?"

He blinked. "Do I regret what?"

She wrinkled her nose at the ground, still didn't look up. "I mean, I know you don't. But… just for a moment? Did you?"

He was utterly at a loss, didn't know what she meant at all… until he did, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Did he regret that Saori was getting married?

"No!" he exclaimed. It startled her, and her eyes blinked and her shoulders raised and her eyes flew to his.

No. Not at all. That hadn't been it. Not at all. But…

He swallowed. He couldn't exactly tell her that the announcement threw his own plans. That he'd gotten worried if he proposed now, she might think it was in reaction to Saori getting married, when that wasn't at all what…

He sighed, shook his head, found her eyes, and then her hands, lacing both of his against both of hers.

"I'm relieved," he said, and Usagi blinked up at him in that adorable, nervous, beautiful way. "I know I hurt her. So much. I did her wrong."

Usagi frowned. He continued talking before she had the chance to correct him again, change his 'I' into a 'we', again.

"Seeing Saori with everything she ever wanted... I feel a lot freer, now, if that makes sense?" he said, kept her gaze in the blue, flickering light of Lawson's, shrugged one shoulder.

"It feels like exhaling after holding your breath for a really long time." Like something that pressed into his heart for years is no longer there. "It's really, really good to see her happy. It makes me feel like I no longer need to feel guilty about being so ridiculously happy with you."

Her eyes blinked two times, before she broke into a smile, and her arms flew around his middle, and his nose buried itself into the crown of her head and the fresh scent of her shampoo, and he hunched his back ever further and caught her cheek in his hand.

The kiss was sweet. The brush of her soft lips barely there, the slip of her lip balm between them warm and familiar and he opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against her lower lip, and she scrunched up her nose and giggled against his mouth even when her fist had clenched into his shirt.

"We're in the middle of a street, Mamo-chan," she said, the word forming against his lips.

He shrugged, pressed his mouth against hers more urgently, and she returned the kiss through a scandalized, adorable shriek.

"I'm completely innocent," he whispered into her mouth.

"You started sex in a Ferris wheel, you lost all the rights to innocent," she deadpanned.

He smirked. Rolled his eyes, centimeters from her face, lifting away from her only barely. It was his staple reaction for Tsukino Usagi, the most infuriating, most intoxicating woman in the world.

He nodded his head behind her, to the white and blue sign that blinked at them, his eyes not leaving hers.

"Choux Cream?" he asked.

Her eyes lit up, and she pulled at his hand, dragging him inside the conbini and to the pastry shelves without another word, and he chuckled and followed.

Some things had stayed the absolute same. And some things were drastically different.

Like the joint study that he'd never wanted. The one that now made him feel antsy only because she wouldn't just let him put up that desk she'd bought to get it finished, because he wanted it so much now. This study where they would sit side by side as she worked on editing her vlog and he wrote medical reports, behind the wall of shelves that housed her filming equipment and some of his books, her picture frames filled with her and the girls, and now her and him, as well, or the silver and gold YouTube awards for her channel. And, in the drawer of his heavy wooden desk, the little red velvet box that held a platinum silver ring with a pink diamond in the shape of a heart set in a frame of smaller, clearer diamonds, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

He still hadn't figured out how one proposed really romantically. But he would. Soon.

The End.

(And yes, I'm totally referencing, like, tons of my favorite foodie YouTube channels here and in this fic in general, and OF COURSE I am cause Usagi's job here, lol, and yes, Simon (from Simon and Martina) is totally a Usagi!)

I hope you liked it. Please, please, please let me know if you did! No matter if you read this when I posted it, or waaaay later.

See you in my next story, guys!