“So Sander asks me, ‘he’s the king of the fucking planet, why does he think he has to sell himself as a boyfriend?’ and I’m like maybe because he’s married to the queen? and Sander made this *sound*--”
“Ooh wait, this one?” Ami snorts indelicately, then grins, pushing over another pile of chopped vegetables and starting on the next.
“That’s the one!” crows Makoto, snap-pointing at Ami and pushing the chopped veg into the sizzling oil at the bottom of the Big Pot. “Sander does *that* and they have a point, I mean, Usagi--” and she waves her hand around in vague helpless confusion.
“Both of them, really,” says Ami sedately, turning on her improved earring-visor so she can cheat about chopping onions. “Being fair, most of us.”
“Well, I *guess*,” says Makoto dubiously, dumping her little bowl of mixed spices into the oil and vegetables, then starting to stir. “Should have put the onions in first. God, I’m so distracted by the mental image of Mamoru not being sure of what to do with Sander when they’re a she-- like what’s he do, kneel in front of her and be like ‘Generally the only girl I’m interested in is my gorgeous wife-goddess-queen-superhero Usako, but considering we bone when you’re a dude have you considered--’“
“MAKO--!” hisses Ami in astonished shock that’s about .5 seconds away from turning into an incredulous gigglefit. “Come on!”
“Look, I’m sorry. A little. And I know you’re fine with it. And I know Usagi’s fine with it. And I know they’re not assholes, I *know* them, obviously. Obviously! And I know it’s *not actually my business*. I just-- it’s a little difficult, because I feel like my being uncomfortable is holding Nik back from being a hundred percent happy, and I feel like everyone thinks that, and blames me, and I’m the problem.”
No giggles. Ami watches Makoto silently for a moment as the taller girl frowns into her big stewpot, then frowns while biting her lip, then frowns while biting her lip and rubbing at her eyes with the back of her wrist. “You’re the problem in your head,” she finally says, and carries the chopped onions over and dumps them in with the rest, then goes to wash her hands and get Makoto a damp cloth for her eyes.
“Thanks for the support,” mutters Mako, taking the cloth and getting tears-- onion tears!-- out of her face anyway.
“I’m serious, though. Nobody’s fussed, Mako-chan. Just you. You’re allowed to let go. You’re allowed to be straight and monogamous! And Nik loves you. Yes, he loves Mamoru, but come on, who doesn’t? And we all love Usagi. Not all love is romantic, not all love is sexual, not all romantic love is even sexual. Nik loves you and married you and he made that choice, and he happily makes it again every day. That’s what making love work *is*. It’s not magic or automatic.”
“How’d you get so good at this? You and Sander-- and Usagi-- and--”
Ami smiles beatifically, zapping her visor away. “All research has a purpose. Even if that purpose is smutty friendfic and the side effect is wisdom.”
