Christmas Stalkings

Author: crystal_rose

Rated: PG13

Rating :

Standard disclaimer: Sailor Moon isn't mine, but the fanfic below is. Copy it at your own risk.

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Serena cracked her gum and used the proverbial eyes in the back of her head to send the other occupant of the information kiosk a withering glare. She smirked when she heard him suck his teeth above the overly cheerful—and materialistic—Christmas music playing on constant repeat over the mall's PA system. First day on her new job, and she was already beginning to regret accepting Mr. Waltham's very generous offer. It wasn't his fault: he couldn't have known that the information booth was hell on earth and that her partner-in-crime was none other than the devil incarnate.

Sure, he liked to call himself Darien Shields, but she knew better. For a God-fearing girl, Serena sure had a long history with Satan, starting on that fateful day when she was still in junior high, bemoaning her poor mark on an English test. She threw the test over her shoulder, fervently believing that old adage that out of sight really was out of mind, not knowing that Darien was walking behind her. One would think that he got bonked on the head with an Acme anvil than a balled-up piece of paper, but it's a known fact that when it comes to pain, men revert to babyhood and raise a big stink over nothing. Apparently, Lucifer's hair getting mussed up due to an errant test paper constituted as pain in his book, and boy did he make a lot of noise about it.

He had called her the infantile name "Meatball Head" after her, in her own opinion, rather innovative hairdo—two buns on either side of her head from which two pigtails streamed forth—ever since. Serena fingered a pigtail self-consciously. He teased her for not changing her hair since junior high. Well, who was he to talk? Just last week she saw him sporting that same hideous green jacket and wraparound shades he was wearing the day they met! Without thinking, she cracked her gum again.

"Must you constantly be doing that?" Serena prided herself on the fact that she could hear that certain note of irritation that only she could seem to bring out in him.

She smiled, and then turned slowly on her heel to face him. And felt a thrill of satisfaction when she saw the thinly veiled irritation on his face. "Does it bother you?" she asked sweetly.

Darien narrowed his eyes, studying the innocent expression on her face. Innocent, his ass. He knew better than anyone how that devious troublemaker's mind worked. Against his better judgment, Darien replied, "Yes. It bothers me a lot. Although not as much as your existence bothers me," he added under his breath.

Serena smiled, pouring on the sugar for the man she just loved to hate. "Well," she drawled, "if you put it that way…Yes." Oh, that felt good. She didn't bother trying to hide her snicker when she saw Darien's jaw clench. She cracked her gum again for good measure. Bugging Darien was juvenile, she had to admit, but she was convinced that their almost daily arguments kept Darien's head from getting to big. As far as she knew, she was the only person ever to cross Darien and make it out alive. Oh, he would never resort to violence to get his own way—he was much too above that sort of behaviour—but he had this maddening ability to get his way with just about anyone.

Anyone except for her, that is. It didn't matter that Darien's deep blue eyes were so hypnotic, staring into them for a period of thirty seconds or more would have a person under his spell; or that his jet black hair took on an almost blue hue in certain lights; or that sometimes that dimple in his left cheek made him look so roguish, Serena had a hard time following their argument du jour. She was immune to his charms, unlike a few girls she knew (i.e. Raye Hino, who, in a fit of madness, went out with him way back in junior high) who swooned every time Darien flashed them a grin. They were a disgrace to her gender, she thought, and wasn't shy in voicing it out to anyone who would listen.

It's not that she was blind; she knew he was hot, and it was even more infuriating to know that Darien had no clue that he was. If he wasn't so oblivious to everything except that damned physics book, then it would be easier to blame his superior attitude on his vanity; but the guy was so clueless about his supermodel looks, he wouldn't know a flirtatious female if one came and sat down on his lap, an act which many have tried, none have succeeded in accomplishing.

It just kind of irked her whenever somebody did. And it irked her even more when she came to the realization that her ire was based not on the disgrace those females brought upon her gender, but on her growing attraction to her tormentor. And her pride wouldn't let her do anything about it.

She cracked her gum again. Pride sucks, but eating crow is even worse.

They stewed in the cramped booth for a few minutes, silent but for the constant stream of peppy Christmas carols that Serena was very quickly beginning to hate. She made a mental vow to convert to Hinduism then quickly retracted her sacrilegious thought when she feared God would smite her with a bolt of lightning. In the crowded mall, the information booth was just a tiny island of useless information that blocked last-minute shoppers from the goods they so coveted. She was bored, but thought her boredom was a reasonable trade-off to the irritation she felt when working as an elf. She should've brought a book or something. A mischievous eyebrow inched its way up her forehead. Since she didn't think her new assignment was going to be so boring…

"So what are you doing working at the mall, anyway?" she asked semi-conversationally, surprised to find herself genuinely interested in the answer, although not even the spirit of Christmas could keep the slight sneer out of her voice. "Surely with your credentials, you could find a job more befitting a man of your…stature."

"No need to concern yourself with my affairs," he replied airily. "I just decided to mingle with the peasants during the holiday season. What better way to assert my superiority than by manning an information booth?"

She scowled; he rolled his eyes. That went well, she thought sarcastically. She glanced at her watch and sighed. Only three more hours before the mall closed and they could go home. Three hours was not soon enough.

On the far side of the booth, Darien watched Serena tap her fingers restlessly on the flimsy counter. If she's not careful, she'll wind up knocking this thing down just like the Santa display, he thought, testing the stability of the structure by kicking it lightly with his foot. The quarter-inch plywood construct wavered slightly.

"Hey, Meatball Elf," he said, enjoying his spur-of-the-moment improvisation of her hated nickname. "Take it easy on this thing. We wouldn't want a repeat of yesterday's Santa display fiasco." He added under his breath, "Although I doubt anyone would notice if anything happened to this piece of crap."

Darien turned to hide his grin when Serena stuck her tongue out at him. He loved getting the blonde all riled up. Contrary to popular opinion, Darien actually liked Serena. Not just for the way she looked, but for the person that she was. He knew that she was smarter than he gave her credit for—which wasn't very much to say the least.

It was for her own damn good, he reasoned. He didn't want her head getting too large just because he was willing to make a few minor concessions as to how his opinion of her had changed over the years.

And change it did. He let his gaze leer over her body, letting it rest on her butt. Funny how one's ass changed over the years. When he met Serena four years ago, her ass was flat as a board. Now…well, all Darien had to say was that Serena possessed an ass anyone—female or male, for that matter—would love to have, himself not excluded. Yes, he thought, nodding appreciatively at her upturned bottom as she leaned over the counter to talk to a short child looking for the toy store. He would definitely want Serena's ass for Christmas—preferably with one cheek in each hand.

Darien shook his head ruefully. When did Serena turn into such a sexpot? It seemed as if it had happened overnight. One day, he was arguing with a flat-chested fourteen-year old, the next day, she had sprouted breasts and her legs went from here to eternity. And what was so infuriating was that the little twit went around unaware of how many guys drooled over her as she walked past and just how many of them suddenly found themselves on the business end of one of his patented death-glares.

And so, three years later, Darien still found himself arguing with her for argument's sake. It was a hell of a lot easier than swallowing his pride and admit that he was wrong about her since day one. There was no way he could risk telling Serena just how he felt about her, only to have her laugh in his face. And besides, Serena gave no indication that she even felt an inkling of desire for him; her daily barbs at his expense proved just that.

Well, it's not as if he didn't deserve them…most of the time. The girl gave as good as she got. Which made him admire her all the more. It must be the sadistic side in him, but he liked a girl who could give it to him, no holds barred, and not even flinch, unlike the simpering females that literally fell into his lap and cooed over how handsome he looked in his green jacket.

Darien allowed himself a wicked grin. Serena hated that jacket and wasn't shy about telling him…which is why he wore it so often. Hell, she told him how much she hated that thing so often that even he was starting to believe it. He knew he was smitten when he found himself contemplating just dropping his beloved jacket into the donation box the other day. He managed to come to his senses just in time.

He shook his head; God, what a woman.

Darien turned his attention to Serena, and immediately felt his hackles immediately rise: a guy about his age had approached the booth and was now talking to Serena. Arms crossed and jaws clenched, Darien moved closer to stand behind Serena, a proprietary expression on his face.

"You see, I want to get my girlfriend the perfect Christmas gift, but I have no idea where to start," the gawky young man explained to Serena who was listening intently. "Can you help me out?"

Serena pondered the question for a moment. "Well, since I have no idea what your girlfriend's interests are, I'll give you some pointers. The kind of presents girls like to get from their boyfriends are the ones that make them feel like queens, shows that your feelings for her are rock-solid, and tells her that you're hooked on her."

The poor guy looked dazed. "How am I going to find a present that says all that? Why couldn't I have just been stuck on a desert island with two drunken gay bears* instead of in this mall a week before Christmas?" he wailed, wringing his hands in despair.

Darien watched him stumble blindly into an electronics store only to walk out a few seconds later crying, "Nothing meets the criteria! Nothing!" He shook his head in sympathy. "Why couldn't you have just told him to buy her some jewelry?"

Serena rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. "Because the perfect gift doesn't necessarily mean it's the most expensive. It has to come from the heart; it has to mean something. It has to be for her and her alone," she informed him haughtily.

Darien was intrigued by this bit of girl-info, but hid it well under a mask of ridicule. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight on one leg, a stance that had Serena's heart beating faster: Darien looked good enough to eat. Did he even realize how badass he looked standing like that with that wry, sexy grin of his, she wondered. She didn't think so. She narrowed her eyes; Darien was staring off into space with a goofy grin (dare she continue the cheesy rhyme?) on his face.

If he found the perfect gift, one that fit Serena's criteria to a T, that would mean he wouldn't have to eat any crow for her to know how he felt about her! Darien's mind whirled with ideas, none of which seemed plausible. What could he get her, he wondered. He noticed Serena watching him suspiciously. "What?" he asked innocently.

Serena seemed to be gauging his reaction. "Nothing," she finally replied. She pointed to the corner furthest away from him. "I'm gonna stand over there now, okay? You stay over there and don't follow me over."

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively, missing the dig. Don't follow me. Serena's words repeated in his mind until he had a Eureka moment. A slow smile spread over his face. He was going to enjoy this…

*refers to Moomoo Stink and the Hellraisers by yours truly and ladysolo