Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Threads ❯ Backstitch ( Chapter 4 )

Backstitch ...

Much to Akane’s awe and relief, Kasumi’s Coming of Age party was going shockingly well, despite the volatile cocktail of guests. Granted, the household had worked to ensure that. She and Ranma did the setup, Nabiki harangued the guests into attending and behaving themselves, and the parents made sure there was plenty of food and entertainment. 

And Akane had one more task she was undertaking just for Kasumi: avoiding a blow up. Any other night with a rented karaoke machine, Akane would have been singing, but she had learned that Ranma’s other “suitors” might go off at any moment if she had any of the spotlight. They didn’t like it when Akane was the center of anything, let alone attention, and she was on high alert for any potential arguments. 

Akane didn’t mind too much that she wasn’t getting to sing. It was easier to just be useful to the party, to attend to Kasumi’s needs for a change. It was worth it. Kasumi seemed completely at ease, and hadn’t mentioned Dr. Tofu’s absence once. Nabiki was even having some fun; that was good. The middle sister was tense with how busy she was at University.

Akane had plenty of entertainment, too. Ukyo’s and Ryoga’s singing was hilarious. The chef’s and the usually serious boy’s goofy voices and lack of shame was infectious. Akane found herself laughing along with everyone else as Ukyo took a dramatic, self-important bow while the song wound down, Ryoga bashfully rubbing the back of his head beside her. Ukyo was always so confident.

Setting down the rest of the snacks she’d brought from the kitchen, Akane stood with a satisfied smile and then gasped as her skirt caught on a splinter on their old kotatsu. With consternation, she saw that there was now a loose thread hanging off of her hem, and a run in her tights. As if she wasn’t feeling self-conscious enough already. She told herself she hadn’t worn the outfit for any other reason other than she looked nice in it, so it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she was trying to look good for anyone else.

“Akane-chan! Come and tell Naoko-chan and Kagome-chan about the time you and Ranma-kun went ice-skating! It’s so cute.” Akane bit her lip and looked down at her skirt, then sighed and pushed the loose thread up under the hem to hide it.

“Yes, oneesama!” She answered, her eyes unwittingly flitting to the silent, gloomy young man near the wall. To her lack of surprise, Ranma was already staring intently at her. 

It was not the first time that night their eyes had met, but Akane’s stupid heart sped up anyway. Again. She was going to have a heart attack at this rate. Still, Akane smiled at him in spite of herself. Ranma had been in the fight with Sanzenin and Shiratori, perhaps he wanted to help tell the story with her. They hadn’t spent any time together that night—though that was partially by Akane’s design, to prevent the aforementioned blowout with the Bride Brigade. But surely standing near him while she told a fun story couldn’t hurt. He looked so handsome, too. Just a moment, just for herself.

“Ranma… do you want to—”

“Ranchan, come over here and sing with me!” Akane frowned as Ranma’s gaze turned quickly to the chef, several expressions flickering across his face. Stomach sinking with disappointment and frustration, she stood and walked over to Kasumi and her friends, trying not to stomp.

“Hi, Naoko-san, Kagome-san, what story did you want, again, Oneesama?” Akane asked, feeling awkward. She had never spent any time with Kasumi’s friends, and the two girls were looking at her like amused aunties.

Kasumi clasped her hands together, beautiful in her mossy kimono from the ceremony. “The ice-skating competition! It was so sweet when Ranma-kun and Ryoga-kun fought on your behalf! Will you tell it, please?” Naoko and Kagome smiled sweetly.

Unnerved by the attention, but wanting to please Kasumi, Akane swallowed; it would be easier to tell the story if Ranma was there, though he’d probably tease her. “Oh, um, sure!” Akane channeled her acting skills as behind her, Ukyo’s warbling voice carried over Ranma’s deep baritone.

It was kind of cute that Ranma could sing well, but it wasn’t like she’d ever gotten a chance to enjoy that. Instead of nursing her frustration, Akane focused on the story, imagining she was on stage with bright lights, and couldn’t see the expectant faces of the audience. Her sister and her friends gasped and laughed at all the right moments, and Akane felt warm with self-assurance, “And then Ryoga-kun picked up this huge ice boulder and chucked it right at Ranma, but he punched it apart!” She had been careful not to mention Ranma’s curse, but that was easy because Akane did not think of Ranma as anything but Ranma, no matter what he looked like.

“Oh no! What happened then?” Naoko asked, her hands over her mouth. Akane glanced over her shoulder, laughing a little and wondering if Ranma was done singing with Ukyo.

He wasn’t; in fact, he was so chummy with the chef that Akane couldn’t stand to look at them for even a second.

Her cheeks hot, Akane tried to remember what she was saying, “Uh… the… the boulder—they fell down into the ice…” Akane’s voice faltered. Annoyed with herself for thinking about Ranma when he clearly wasn’t thinking about her, Akane stubbornly finished, but wasn’t feeling nearly as positive by the exciting conclusion.

When she was done, she dared another glance behind her, and there was Shampoo, now, in front of Ranma, energy crackling between the Amazon and Ukyo. With a sigh, Akane turned back to her sister and her friends.

“Oh, Akane-chan, what about the time you fought that big man who wanted to destroy the dojo?” Kasumi suggested, because Naoko and Kagome had declared they wanted another story.

Embarrassed but proud, Akane tuned out Shampoo and Ranma singing a love song together and recounted her defense of her dojo. That was one of the hardest fights she had been in.

Except for the one with Saffron.

Even as she flexed her muscles in her sweater, using the distance of her stage skills to pretend that she felt confident, Akane quailed inside. The battle with the vengeful god—would that one day be a story she told, like the battle with the ice skating pair and the Dojo Destroyer? Would the time she died for Ranma just be a funny story in the future?

“So did you win?” Naoko asked, and Kasumi covered her mouth and her eyes grew wide. Kasumi knew the end of the story.

Akane felt her own stupid face heat and her expression softened at the memory. “R-Ranma had to step in,” she said shyly, “it was kind of embarrassing.” It always was.

“I think it’s romantic,” Naoko said, “I love it when a guy’s willing to fight for his love.”

“Oh! I-It wasn’t like that!” Akane said quickly, knowing Ranma would be embarrassed. “He was just defending the honor of the Anything Goes school.”

“Sure,” Kagome said coyly, smirking, while Naoko and Kasumi giggled, “Akane-chan, Ranma-san has been staring at you for the last two hours. Did you know that?” 

Blushing harder, Akane resisted the very natural and totally not mortifying impulse to seek Ranma out with her eyes. “I d-don’t know what you mean!” Akane said, probably too loudly. She could hear an argument developing between Ukyo and Shampoo, and flared her nostrils.

“Is she serious?” Naoko put in, poking Kasumi’s shoulder. Akane’s traitorous older sister just giggled. 

“The guy must be obsessed with you.” Kagome said, raising an eyebrow.

“O-Obsessed?!” Akane cried, her heart thumping in her ears, then whipped around in alarm at the sound of shouts behind her. Ranma was gone, and Ukyo and Shampoo were now arguing in a sibilant undertone while her dad and Mr. Saotome drank sake and watched the show. Mousse was asking her father something, probably thinking he was Shampoo with the way he was trying to take Soun’s hand.

Turning back to the girls in front of her, Akane started. All three of them wore knowing looks. “You look at him a lot, too, don’t you?” Kagome said throatily, raising her eyebrows.

“I don’t, really!” Akane cried, shaking her head, “Ranma’s—”

“And you call him “Ranma,” even. So familiar, right, Kasumi-chan?” Kagome continued as though Akane had not spoken.

“Oh, well, that’s just because Ranma never uses honorifics with anyone.” Akane said quickly. She wasn’t special. He even had a cute nickname for his “cute fiancee.” Her stomach sank.

“Seems kind of rude.” Naoko said disapprovingly.

Frowning, Akane shook her head, “He’s not rude! He’s just—he spent a lot of his childhood on the road, traveling with his dad. He didn’t have the benefit of a stable home to learn certain niceties. He’s actually very kind.” Akane fisted her hands beside her hips and tried to hold in her temper. Ranma could be rude, of course, but his inability to understand basic social courtesies was his father’s fault. And only their family got to castigate Ranma over his social ineptitude.

Kagome smirked and though Kasumi admonished her quietly, Kagome asked, “Kasumi-chan, didn’t you say they’re engaged?” And turned to Kasumi, tilting her head of silky brown hair innocently.

Akane bit her lip and looked pleadingly at Kasumi, though admittedly she didn’t know what she wanted her older sister to do. “Oh my, yes,” Kasumi paused, looking at Akane in sympathy, “our fathers arranged the marriage before we were born.”

“Wow, an arranged marriage? Are those even legal?” Naoko asked.

“No, they aren’t.” Nabiki said as she walked over from the kotatsu, a glass of whisky in her hand. “But Akane-chan and Ranma-kun are too honorable to refuse.” Nabiki sipped her glass.

Surprised, Akane stared at Nabiki, “Yes, that’s true,” Akane agreed, nodding, “Ranma takes his honor very seriously.”

“Because he’s a martial artist?” Naoko asked doubtfully.

“Yes, but also because he’s… just…” Akane carped for a moment, blushing.

“Kind?” Kagome finished with a smirk, and Akane nodded and smiled, relieved Kagome was no longer making fun of Ranma. “Well, I think you’re too good for him.” Kagome sniffed. Akane stiffened.

Mortified for a brand new reason, Akane looked to Kasumi and Nabiki for help again, but Nabiki was walking away, toward her stereo, rolling her eyes. Kasumi, meanwhile, was glancing out at the yard with a sad look on her face. 

Knowing that her sister was hoping Dr. Tofu was going to come to her party, since he’d been unable to attend the ceremony, Akane decided to make a graceful exit so Kasumi could commiserate with her girlfriends. The last thing her sister’s party needed was more people making a big deal out of Ranma and Akane’s “relationship.” She’d taken enough attention away from Kasumi over the last two years.

“I’ll go clean up some stuff so we’ll have less to do later. Thanks for being such a good audience for my stories.” The girls bowed to each other, and Akane scurried to the kotatsu to start clearing some of the party mess. Nabiki found a good station on the stereo, filling the room with comforting bubble gum pop.

“Hi, Akane-san, can I help?” Akane looked up and smiled at Ryoga.

“Thanks, Ryoga-kun,” he knelt beside her and started grabbing empty snack bags and putting them on her tray, “and thanks again for coming. It was so thoughtful of you to bring snacks for the party.” Akane was impressed he’d managed to get there on time, but that would not be a kind thing to say. 

Then again, Nabiki had drawn him an extensively detailed map when they invited him two months ago, and had threatened him with, of all things, “A collar and leash” if he didn’t get there on time. Her sister, like everyone else, had such a soft spot for Kasumi. Akane thought it was sweet that Nabiki wanted to make sure all the people Kasumi invited showed up. Thinking of the whole Saotome and Tendo clans coming together for Kasumi made Akane’s chest feel full.

That Ranma had made sure to help out was especially gratifying, since it showed just how special Kasumi was to everyone. And he dressed so nice for the party. His Tang shirt was dark blue and brought out his eyes. Akane remembered when he was hanging up Kasumi’s “Happy Coming of Age” sign earlier, the way his forearms flexed, the sleeves of the shirt rolled up. He’d glanced at her, then, catching her watching him, but his expression wasn’t one Akane could read at the time.

Akane suddenly realized with dismay that Ryoga was chuckling, and she was just sitting there with a dopey, dreamy smile on her face. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said! Feeling bad for ignoring him, Akane laughed, too, trying to mimic Ryoga’s energy. “That’s pretty funny.”

“Eh?” Ryoga said, and started quietly babbling, “I mean, I guess, it’s not like I wanted to—but I mean—”

Chuckling nervously, Akane said, “Wanted to what?”

“Hey, want help?” Ranma’s face was lit up with a small smile when Akane turned and met his eyes for—she had lost count of how many times.

And just like every other time, there it was. A little jump in her heart rate, a little spark in her tummy. “Sure!” Akane said quickly; she was just this side of staring. She saw Ranma’s mouth move, twist. “Can you get the glasses from the porch?” At least that way he wouldn’t be so warm and close and smell so good—Akane took a breath in.

Ranma started, and his cheeks turned pink before her eyes. “Y-yeah.” He said, and snagged a tray from the table. Akane watched him leave, biting her lip.

To bring herself back from the brink of several crazy thoughts her brain sizzled with, Akane focused intently on her one-sided conversation with Ryoga. “When is your Coming of Age, Akane-san?” Ryoga was asking.

“Oh, about two years. Aren’t we the same age?” Akane said, his intent eyes on her making her anxious. She’d never forgotten how painful his hugs were!

“Oh, well, when you don’t stick around in one place for long, it’s hard to remember stuff like that.” Ryoga chuckled, and once again Akane just laughed with him. She didn’t want Ryoga to feel awkward. He and Ranma had such similar childhoods, she wondered that they never seemed to get along.

“That’s true. Maybe we should have a bunch of birthdays for you.” Akane said, smiling.

“All in a row? That would be too many.” Ryoga lamented. Akane laughed again.

A sudden shift in the flow of energy and volume of noise through the room drew Akane’s attention to the veranda. First she saw that Ranma was standing there with a tray of glasses, holding it up high, balanced elegantly on the tips of his fingers. Then she noticed that her sister and her friends were standing in the yard, their sparklers sputtering out. Akane’s breath pulled in, audible, slow.

Dr. Tofu was standing in the yard, talking to Kasumi. He sounded confident, apologetic, and sweet. Her sister was going with him. The way they spoke, the expressions on their faces—they were so familiar and yet she had never seen such an expression on either Dr. Tofu or Kasumi. The doctor took Kasumi’s arm, his eyes clear, and Akane thought, full of affection.

Slowly, Akane stood, tears pricking her eyes, her heart thumping.

Kasumi would come back with a ring! Akane was sure of it. Her smile behind her fingers was so wide and her heart felt like it was going to shoot through the roof. Dr. Tofu, by some miracle, was no longer a walking punchline in Kasumi’s presence. Watching her sister walk away, her friends practically squealing, was so satisfying. All of the hard work for the party was worth it before, but now a thousand times more!

“Wow. Dr. Tofu sure knows how to make a show of it, huh?” Ukyo laughed out, and her sister Nabiki and the older folks joined in. Akane almost laughed…

Then she caught Ranma staring once more. His blue eyes held hers, his expression sharp and slightly red. Akane was annoyed that he looked angry. Stiffly, she shrugged at him. If he wanted to look at her like that, he could look somewhere else. 

Akane turned back to her earlier task, shooting Ryoga a friendly smile, “Come on, Ryoga-kun, let’s get these washed up so oneesama doesn’t have to worry about it.” Ryoga eagerly moved to continue helping.

“I’ll help, dear, that’s so thoughtful of you.” Akane bowed to her auntie as she rose from the table.

“Yeah, I’ll come help, too.” Ranma said, and Akane sighed quietly. When he came into the kitchen, all of the other girls would, too. It was about to get crowded.

As she washed dishes with auntie Nodoka, Akane forced herself to think about her sister’s engagement, rather than Ranma and how much attention he was currently getting from Ukyo and Shampoo. “Dr. Tofu is such a fine man. How wonderful for Kasumi-chan. And he is so dignified.” Nodoka praised.

“Oh he wasn’t always!” Akane said with a laugh.

“What do you mean?” Nodoka asked, smiling warmly at her.

Though she was once again on the spot as a storyteller, this time Akane didn’t mind. Auntie Nodoka was like part of the family, and at least the stories didn’t involve herself. “Well, before tonight, when Dr. Tofu was around Oneesama—or even heard her name, he would act so funny,” Nodoka nodded for her to continue, smiling with interest, “he would dance with his anatomy skeleton, or tear even important papers up in his hands. Once he—CRICK—turned Ranma’s head ninety degrees and it got stuck. Ooh! And his glasses got all fogged up.” Akane told a few stories of more notable instances, and was reminded of carrying Ranma’s girl-form home from Dr. Tofu’s, his little arms around her neck, and his breath on her jaw.

Akane forced herself not to look at him, and yet she felt Ranma’s eyes on her. Every so often, since Mt. Phoenix, that happened. She got the feeling that he was looking at her. Even when he wasn’t in the same room. Admittedly, Akane knew it was completely batty, but there was a pleasant prickle on the back of her neck right then, and she’d felt it too many times before for it to be an accident. She once more resisted the urge, successfully, to look at him. If she did, she’d be disappointed, Akane was sure.

Soon another argument broke out between Shampoo and Ukyo over Ranma walking them home, of all the silly things, but the dishes were done by then, so Akane left the kitchen to avoid the fallout. From the corner of her eye, Akane saw Ranma backing away from the girls, and sighed again. At least they’d waited until after Kasumi and Dr. Tofu left.

“Neh, Akane-chan,” Nabiki said as they entered the family room, tugging on Akane’s sweater sleeve, “are you okay?”

“Hm?” Akane asked, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”

Nabiki looked at her skeptically, swirling her glass of whisky. “Why do you think Dr. Tofu’s here?”

Smiling, Akane shook her head, “I’m sure he’s going to propose,” Akane said, “and I’m very happy for Oneesama.”

“Of course you are,” Nabiki said, waving her hand dismissively, “but I’m sure you’re also thinking about a certain jerk.”

Shaking her head, Akane folded her arms, “I’m not,” she half-lied, because she knew what Nabiki was implying, and though she was thinking about Ranma, that was not why, “I’m glad Oneesama’s getting married, that’s all.” That was true.

Nabiki appraised Akane with amusement dancing in her eyes, then nodded sharply, “Good. She’s the oldest, she should get married, first, after all.”

“Right?!” Akane cried, throwing her arms out, “Dad is so ridiculous. He better not get all weird.” Akane fumed, looking around for her father. He and Mr. Saotome were watching sumo at low volume with Cologne nearby, stroking her wrinkled chin. Akane glared at the back of her dad’s head, then turned to Nabiki.

“I refuse to let anything take attention away from Kasumi-chan. Same?” Nabiki said with conviction, also glaring at their father.

“Same!” Akane and Nabiki shook on it, nodding. It felt good to be on a team with Nabiki for once.

“Same!” Ryoga put in, smiling at them. Nabiki laughed at him.

When Nodoka emerged from the predictable suitor-based commotion in the kitchen, she asked Akane, Ryoga and Kasumi’s friends to join her for tea. Nabiki was already on the veranda with her drink, having shut the door as the January chill had started to permeate the family room. The stereo was nearly silent. It was peaceful. 

Auntie Nodoka poured tea for everyone with a grace that Akane enjoyed watching, and looked around, “You and your sisters are such beautiful young women, Akane-chan. I wonder when Nabiki-chan will find a nice boy?” Nodoka said idly, and Akane did not miss what was implied by leaving herself out of the question.

Akane smiled, “I don’t know that Nabiki’s interested in boys right now. She’s really focused on school.” Though privately, Akane thought Nabiki could use someone. Her sister was alone a lot, even more so at Tokyo U. She never brought any friends home, anyway.

“She’s so studious. All of you girls and your friends are so smart.” Nodoka beamed at her, Naoko and Kagome, and Akane blushed and looked down at her teacup; Ryoga coughed, “You know, my son is very lucky.”

There was a cracking noise, and Akane glanced up to see that Ryoga had snapped a pair of single-use hashi in half in one hand. “Eh? Ryoga-kun? Everything okay?” She asked him.

“Yes, Akane-san.” Ryoga said nervously, and set the broken hashi back on the tray where he’d gotten them. “Sorry. Fidgeting.”

Akane shrugged and smiled, but Nodoka said, “Ryoga-kun, do you have a girlfriend?” Kagome and Naoko grinned like cats.

“Oh, uh, um—” Ryoga blathered, rubbing the back of his head and blushing.

Seeing his discomfort, Akane artfully spared Ryoga the attention he clearly didn’t want, “Yes, Akari-san. She’s a really nice girl. Raises… livestock. What was Uncle Genma like when he was courting you, Auntie?”

Nodoka giggled, covering her mouth, “Genma-kun was taciturn, and serious in front of other people. But when we were alone,” Nodoka smiled and shook her head at her husband, half-asleep in front of the television, his chin nearly on his chest, and sighed, “oh, he could be so kind, and considerate. He always brought me flowers—ones he picked. I liked that.”

“That’s so sweet,” Akane cooed, “what else?”

Putting her finger on her chin, Nodoka tilted her head, looking at memories, “Once, he left for a long training trip with Grandfather Happosai. When he returned, his arms were full of souvenirs from his travels for me, and letters he had written to me that he wasn’t able to send.” The other girls gasped in delight, but Akane had trouble imagining Mr. Saotome being so sweet. 

Then Akane thought about Ranma, of course. And how he could be sweet, especially when they were alone. Bringing her snacks and presents, flowers at least a few times. And the way he carried her, screamed for her if he thought she was in trouble. “Akane’s my fiancee!” Akane felt her heart speed up all over again, and Ranma wasn’t even looking at her. “I wanted to tell you… I love you!”

Suddenly Naoko jumped up from the kotatsu, startling Akane out of her reverie, “I think Kasumi-chan’s back!” She rushed over and opened the shoji to the veranda.

And there in the yard were Kasumi and Dr. Tofu. Kasumi’s ring was so glittery in the lanterns, Akane could see it from the family room even with Nabiki partly in the way. Her heart soared with joy, lifting her from her seat. She sprinted into the yard, past Ranma, and everyone in the family room followed her. Tears gushed from Akane’s eyes as she approached her big sisters, “It’s so wonderful. I’m so happy for you, ‘neesama!” She turned to the doctor, practically delirious, “Dr. Tofu, you’ll be my big brother!” She cried. Tofu laughed. 

The congratulations were so warm and comforting, that Akane was able to ignore the tingling on the back of her neck that told her Ranma was once again watching her.

There was toasting, and photos. Dr. Tofu pulled Ranma aside for a bit, and her eyes were drawn to the back of Ranma’s head, briefly, and Dr. Tofu’s peaceful face. She wondered what they could be talking about, and felt a frisson of anxiety that she squashed.

When Kasumi called her fiance over for a photo—Kasumi’s fiance, Akane was so overjoyed she could scream—Ranma was left alone, looking lost, almost sad. Akane didn’t like to see him standing there like that, not when his family was taking photos together. He should be there, with them.

Cupping her mouth with her hands, Akane cried out, “Ranma, come on,” he turned to her and she smiled, “let’s get a picture with all of us!” She waved him over when he faced her completely, his eyes wide and glittering in the lanterns. There was a painful pause, and then he strolled over. Something about his posture gave Akane the impression of a nervous animal about to spook.

And sure enough, though he smiled through the picture, Ranma disappeared shortly after.

Akane spent the rest of the party feeling haunted. It was like a presence followed her around the house. And she knew what it was, but she pretended not to, because it was weird and crazy. 

Although Ranma was no longer there, she could feel his eyes on her anyway.

Finally, Kasumi’s friends went home, their parents went to bed, Cologne had finally left, and Dr. Tofu went back to the clinic after an affectionate goodbye at the door with Kasumi that she and Nabiki pretended not to hear. When Dr. Tofu walked away singing, Akane and Nabiki giggled together.

Soon it was just her, Nabiki and Ryoga. He continued helping them clean, and Akane’s mind once more drifted to Ranma. She was annoyed, and frustrated. All night, all she’d wanted was to spend time with him. Every time they did anything but train or eat a meal, and even then sometimes, Ranma’s various suitors or something else would interfere. But that wasn’t Ranma’s fault, not really; Kasumi had invited his suitors—though they would have shown up anyway, probably—and Akane had been avoiding him. Still, the relatively peaceful atmosphere at Kasumi’s party would have been a great time to make memories.

Ever since she died and Ranma brought her back, that was all Akane wanted. More time, more memories. 

And kisses. 

And more. 

It was humiliating, stupid, and she was such a hypocrite, for how often she called Ranma a pervert. But it was what Akane wanted. She wanted Ranma. So stupid. She didn’t even know if he wanted her.

“Hey, Ryoga-kun, do you wanna stay the night?” Nabiki offered, and Akane checked the clock; it was late, and Ranma was still not home.

Trying to be polite, even though she was worried, Akane said, “She’s right, Ryoga-kun. It’s late.” And she rose with the last of the debris from the party on a tray.

“Oh, thank you—”

“I can take care of him.” Nabiki said, patting Ryoga’s head with her hand that did not hold one of her ever-present whisky glasses.

Relieved she didn’t have to pretend to not be thinking about Ranma in front of anyone, Akane bowed her head in gratitude, “Thanks, Nabiki. Goodnight, Ryoga-kun. Thanks for coming.”

“Uh, yeah! G’night.” Akane beamed at them with a brightness that she didn’t really feel. Then, standing, she took the last of the trash to the kitchen while her big sister encouraged Ryoga to stick close to her, another indicator of how big of a softie Nabiki had become.

Akane did a few more kitchen chores, then went to the furo and brushed her teeth. That tickle was back on her neck, and she shivered and looked around. But if course there was no one there.

Frowning and spitting into the sink, Akane wiped her mouth and looked at Ranma’s toothbrush in the holder, worrying.

Ranma had been sleeping in Nabiki’s room while she was away at college. Wanting him to have his own space, Akane and Kasumi had tried everything to get Nabiki to let him use it, but her sister stubbornly refused. Akane had even offered to pose for pictures for once, and Nabiki still did not budge. 

But whenever Nabiki left back to school, Akane noticed that Ranma would go to the dojo like he was going to sleep in there, but then she’d hear him entering Nabiki’s room after a little while. It made Akane smile to know that he at least had a warm, comfy place to sleep.

But when Nabiki was home, Ranma slept in the dojo. Akane was often tempted to invite him to sleep in her room, especially the colder it got, but she was overcome with anxiety every time the opportunity arose. What if he refused? What if he got the wrong idea? What if he made fun of her? Akane felt selfish, but her heart couldn’t take it if he got all macho on her over something that was supposed to be a nice gesture.

Regardless, Akane started keeping a futon in her armoire. Just in case. For guests. Unexpected ones. Maybe through the window.

Trudging up the stairs, irritated at her anxiety over Ranma’s absence, Akane was wired. Parties always left her feeling too awake to sleep. She didn’t bother with her pajamas yet. Instead, she turned to a radio station and sat at her desk, listening and trying to calm herself.

There was a shout from downstairs, and Akane stood. Nerves firing, she went to her door and looked out, but didn’t hear anything except Nabiki’s happy laughter. Akane smiled; Nabiki didn’t laugh like that often unless it was at someone else’s expense. But Nabiki was always nice to Ryoga so Akane wasn’t concerned.

But she was concerned for Ranma as she went back to her desk, shutting her door and singing softly along with the Christmas music the station was playing. If she couldn’t do karaoke, she’d at least sing with the radio.

With another sigh, she took out a book and tried to read, but after just a few minutes she threw it back on her shelf and rocked back in her chair, covering her face. “Ranma you dummy…” Akane was just waiting for him, again, like a fool. He was probably out with Ukyo or Shampoo—But maybe he was home already? Akane peeked out her window and saw that the dojo was dark. The whole of the Tendo estate was, except for the orange light from Nabiki’s room. Shutting the window, Akane stepped back and leaned against her desk, wringing her hands. 

There was a sound from Nabiki’s room that made Akane frown and turn the radio down, hearing the tail end of a sentence, “… are you doing—ah!”

Akane turned the radio back up, her eyes wide. That had definitely been Ryoga’s voice, through the wall, in Nabiki’s room. Covering her mouth, then her burning cheeks, Akane shook her head as if to chase the knowledge away.

The knock at her window made her jump. Before she opened it, Akane took several deep, calming breaths, and schooled her expression. She did not want Ranma seeing that she’d been worried, waiting for him. It would just cause him to tease her.

Ranma hung in the open window, his handsome face red, his fingers twitching. “What is it, Ranma? I thought you walked Shampoo or Ukyo home, after all.” Akane said, trying to be cool.

Ranma’s face fell, which looked even sadder with him upside-down. “Uh, um, nothin’, nevermind.” He started to move away.

“Wait,” Akane said, proud her voice did not sound desperate, “you might as well come in here; it’s cold.” She just hoped he couldn’t see that she was vibrating.

To let him inside, Akane stepped back, but stayed nearby—not, she told herself, because she liked watching Ranma’s arm muscles and butt when he came in through her window, but just in case he slipped or something. Right, Ranma, slipping.

She was pathetic.

There was a light thump from Nabiki’s room that she almost missed, and Akane couldn’t help herself; she had gossip, and Ranma always listened to gossip, especially about Nabiki, “I keep hearing weird noises from Nabiki’s room—you know Ranma, I think she has a boy—well, it’s none of my business!” Ranma looked surprised, then made a face. Curious, Akane asked, “What’s up?” And stepped closer. Ranma was staring at her, in that way he had been staring at her lately, especially that night, and she felt bashful and had to look down.

There was a short silence, and when Ranma spoke she realized he had misunderstood what she was asking about, “Well, Nabiki kinda figured out that I was usin’ her room, and asked if I would, uh, sleep elsewhere for tonight,” he made a small sound, “I was gonna sleep in the dojo, but it’s kinda cold.” 

Akane’s heart sped up again, and now she didn’t know what she was asking about, either. She tried to cover her reaction with a wry expression, “Oh really? I’m shocked she didn’t just surprise you when you tried to come in,” that would be so like Nabiki, “then again…” With a frown, Akane turned up the music. Then she looked at Ranma, who was just standing there, staring at her.

Unwilling for him to see the effect he was having, Akane said archly, “So why are you here, in my room, specifically?”

Ranma had a few gestures that were so masculine that Akane had never been able to ignore them, even when she was mad, even before she figured out that she wanted Ranma to kiss her. His Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed was one. She could barely stand herself for thinking it, but Ranma had a sexy neck. She was such a pervert!

With a deep inhale, Ranma started talking, faster and faster, “Uh, well, I was gonna ask if I could just crash out on your floor—” Akane’s eyes widened, her heart pounding, and Ranma sped up, “Nabiki suggested that, too. I think she was tryn’a mess with me, but I don’ wanna sleep in Ma and Pops’ room, and it’s too cold for the dojo. I can sleep downstairs if you don’t want me to sleep here.”

Staring a him, her face crimson, Akane spent a moment recovering her wits. How she had wanted to ask him! And now he was here, asking to sleep in her room.

She had to play it cool, not set herself up for rejection. Trying out a casual, flailing hand gesture she’d seen Nabiki do, Akane said, “Eh, why not?” And was proud that she didn’t scream it.

“Y’sure?” Ranma sounded nervous, and she saw he was also sporting a blush.

Akane swallowed, and said breezily, “Yeah, just keep your hands to yourself—there’s a spare futon on the floor of the closet,” then her face heated further when she realized how that sounded, “it’s, ah, for guests.” She added quickly as she put her back to him.

“Thanks.” Breathing in and out, Akane waited until she heard the closet door shut, then she tossed Ranma a pillow, since he didn’t bring one.

And then, like her, he just stood there, staring at his futon. Akane licked her lips. There were several things she wanted to say, but she settled for the least insane one, “I’m not tired, either; parties always leave me feeling too alert.”

Ranma looked at her, not quite lifting his head so that she saw mostly just his lashes, “I ain’t been to that many,” he brought his hand to his face, scratching, a cute gesture, “but yeah. I like it quiet before I gotta sleep.”

Going to her bed, Akane sat down, her feet not touching the floor reminding her that she was wearing her tights. “Mmm, me too.” She kicked her legs, “I still need to change into my pajamas…” she trailed off, her hands fluttering nervously. Why hadn’t she thought of that!?

But Ranma just went to the far side of her room, “Oh, yeah, of course.” He faced away from her, waiting. 

Embarrassed and, annoyingly, disappointed—did she want him to see her change? What was wrong with her? “Thanks.” She changed into her new pajamas from Christmas, and told herself it was because they were within easy reach in her dresser, and not because they made her legs look nice, “What a night, eh?” Akane felt nervous, and when she got nervous, she talked.

“Yeah.” Ranma said, and she heard apprehension even in that single, tiny syllable.

Great, if he was nervous, she was going to get even more nervous. Which meant she needed to talk! Akane had to keep the conversation, the mood, light, as much for herself as for him. She was a mature adult! She could handle a conversation with Ranma while she took off her clothes behind his back. “Kasumi and Dr. Tofu. Engaged. I’m so happy for them. They really deserve this, don’t you think? I wonder how Dr. Tofu got over his weird behavior around her… Okay, I’m all done. You can turn around.” Akane almost, almost left the shirt partly unbuttoned.

When Ranma faced her, she caught his blush, and the way his eyes took in her bare legs before he turned away, and tried not to smile giddily. Leaning into her desk, she started brushing her hair, attempting to look relaxed and not at all like she was thinking about kissing Ranma alone in her room.

A long, tense silence. Akane tried to focus on brushing her hair. “Yeah, I’m uh, real happy for ‘em.” Even his voice made her stomach flutter.

Not for the first time, Akane’s brain briefly drifted to the failed wedding, months ago, now. They had almost gotten married, and if they had, they would have had a night after the wedding. A wedding night. Akane pushed her hips against her desk as she felt a pulse in her groin and tried very hard to focus on neutral topics.

More than anything right then, Akane wanted him to keep talking, and he didn’t seem to mind talking about Kasumi’s engagement. She’d kind of thought he would—he always got weird talking about marriage, though she couldn’t necessarily blame him for that. But Ranma cared about Kasumi, too. It was sweet, how he treated her like an older sister. Maybe he wanted to share some of the joy.

“Do you think that they’ll wait a whole year?” Akane asked softly.

Ranma coughed, “I dunno, Kasumi-san and Dr. Tofu are a little more, ah, traditional, I guess. Maybe.”

That voice. When had Ranma’s voice transformed from boyish and almost childish, to so rich, so inescapably Ranma and also so clearly a man? Even his girl-form’s voice had gotten a little huskier—Akane’s heart would beat fast when she heard him leaving the pond some mornings, sounding like an annoyed delinquent.

“Isn’t it strange?” She prompted, then became distracted when she felt his eyes on her again. Akane’s legs tingled and she clenched the muscles in her hips unconsciously.

“What?” That was an appropriate response; what the hell had she been talking about? What? Kasumi’s engagement to Dr. Tofu. Dr. Tofu, acting almost normal, which was weird, right.

Akane spat it out, her throat tight. “That Dr. Tofu is just, normal; do you think it’s training? A new technique? Shiatsu?” She waited for his answer, his voice.

“He told me he just worked on… himself. He said,” Ranma paused, Akane swallowed, “he said it was like if he didn’t change… nothin’ would.” Kamisama she loved Ranma’s easy speech: “nothin’.”

Akane gathered her sanity, staring at her desk, nodding to show she’d heard. Change. Lots of change, all at once. She wondered then if Kasumi’s engagement might lead to their fathers going back on the agreement to delay the wedding until she and Ranma figured themselves out. Akane was mostly concerned they’d be annoying. She still wasn’t scared of getting married to Ranma. Dying put a lot into perspective.

But Akane didn’t want to marry a guy who didn’t love her back. A part of her believed he loved her, and a part of her didn’t. Some days the “Ranma loves you” part was bigger, and some days the “You’re an uncute, unsexy tomboy with no figure” one was bigger. Occasionally Ranma’s words or actions would feed one or the other. It used to be mostly the one that made Akane feel like shit. Lately, however, Ranma fed the other one more. 

And a third part, too, one that got bigger and bigger, all the time, because Ranma didn’t always need to do or say anything to feed the part of Akane that was hungry. And thirsty.

The silence stretched. Ranma shifted uncomfortably. With a lurch in her stomach Akane realized she had been running her hair brush through the same patch of hair for almost an entire song on the radio, “Ranma,” she started, “are you thinking about… that is…” Akane lost her train of thought, feeling shy and uncomfortable with having such thoughts in front of him, even though he couldn’t hear them. She held her desk, wanting something firm and stable under her hands. 

But her desk wasn’t Ranma’s chest, so it didn’t work. “I mean—I hope you’re comfortable tonight.” Then Akane fidgeted, like a dweeb, and stared down at her calloused hand. Tomboy hand.

She was no braver than Ranma was. Here they were alone in her room, and instead of even trying to see if he was interested in doing the same thing she was, Akane was being evasive, and honestly just so loopy! She couldn’t think straight. Akane wished she could bop herself on the head until she was normal, or that she had a guardian angel watching her who could slap her silly whenever she got so desperate and frazzled like this.

And it didn’t even matter; she was working herself up into a lather over what? The chance to kiss Ranma and then have him run screaming when their parents ruined any progress they might make by forcing a wedding? Especially now that Kasumi was engaged! Why did she even bother entertaining any of this?

Another long, tense silence, but Ranma broke it just before she started to really beat herself up, “Beats sleepin’ in the dojo, that’s for sure, thanks again.”

Akane smiled and felt her cheeks darken, “You’re welcome, again,” then she sighed hugely, and couldn’t help herself; the words came out of her like the gasping exhale when woke from a nightmare, “gosh, our parents are about to get really annoying, aren’t they?” She looked at Ranma’s slightly panicked face, and regretted the words, tried to de-escalate, “What should we do?” She asked, leaning against her desk and folding her arms over her chest. Just casually discussing the possibility that their parents would start pressuring them to get married at eighteen. 

No big deal. 

Ranma wasn’t responding. But he also wasn’t denying or saying something hurtful, which made her want him to respond that much more, because either his brain had stopped working, or he was thinking. Akane tried to stay neutral and not accusatory, to encourage him to open up, “Daddy said he’d give us a chance to… to sort stuff out, but what if he goes back on that? We haven’t even—I guess… we haven’t gotten started on that. What do we do?” He had to answer her, now. She’d repeated the question. Would he just say he didn’t want to marry her? Maybe he would. Akane shrugged her shoulders, still maintaining a light mood. Maybe they could clear the air if she kept her temper. She knew their engagement would be on Ranma’s mind. How could it not be, after Kasumi getting engaged? But why wasn’t he saying anything!? Oh when he did he was probably going to say something mean or—

“Go on vacation.”

Slowly, her heart palpitating, Akane turned her head and stared at him in disbelief, expecting to see him smirking. But he was just looking at her with an intense expression, like he was holding his breath, waiting for her to respond, now. “You mean, me and you?” She asked wonderingly.

“Uh, sure, why not? Maybe they’ll get so focused on Kasumi-san’s wedding they won’t even notice we’re gone, eh?” Ranma grinned.

And Akane melted. That grin. So cute—lopsided, friendly, stunning. Akane smiled back, and Ranma’s grin broadened. “We could go on a training trip!” She said excitedly, and Ranma didn’t even laugh at her. His eyes crinkled. 

But then the radio switched to a higher, more frenetic song, and she remembered Kasumi’s wedding. She deflated. “I couldn’t leave right now, not with Kasumi needing her sisters.” Ranma’s obvious disappointment made Akane’s heart beat even faster, and her cheeks heated up. 

He had really meant it! They were talking about their engagement and Ranma was thinking he wanted to go somewhere with her, alone. Just the two of them, spending time together, as much as they liked! Doing whatever they wanted… About a dozen ideas sped through Akane’s seizing brain and the juncture of her thighs buzzed. Her knees pressed together. 

“Yeah.” Ranma sighed and leaned against her desk with her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his absurd body. “It’s been… nice not havin’ ‘em breathin’ down our necks all the time. I’m kinda dreadin’ tomorrow.” He laughed a little awkwardly, almost a cough. “Are you… okay?”

Biting her lip, Akane stared at her feet, trying to ignore the sensations inside her, “What do you mean, Ranma?” He was asking! He cared. 

She was pathetic!

“I mean, about Kasumi gettin’ engaged when… you know.” Akane froze for a moment, her arousal sputtering.

Ranma was thinking about their engagement more than she was. Here Akane was daydreaming about kissing him and touching him and doing all sorts of juicy stuff with him on a couple’s vacation, while Ranma was considering their engagement, her feelings.

A little embarrassed and ashamed, Akane tried to cover, remembering her conversation with Nabiki earlier, “Am I upset that my older sister, whose coming-of-age I just attended earlier today, is getting married before me?” She said thickly.

A beat. Two. “Yeah, that.” Ranma said.

Akane let out a breath she’d been holding and relaxed, “No. The only reason I was going to marry you was to get you the cure you wanted, and because I thought you lo—” Akane clicked her teeth together and brushed her hair behind her ear, swiping her face anxiously. She wasn’t going to get emotional right now, “Well, it doesn’t matter. Kasumi’s older. She should get married first. And everything else… it’s old history. Besides, you still don’t want to get married right now, do you?” Akane stared at Ranma, then, showing him she wasn’t afraid of the conversation, either. And that she wasn’t thinking about the wedding night they had missed. Skipped, definitely not on purpose, just, you know, can’t have a wedding night without a wedding.

Shit. Was it hot in her room?

“Prob’ly not right now.” Honestly! Now her face was totally red. So he was thinking of getting married eventually, then!? And all Akane could think about was burying her face in his chest and smelling him…!

Maybe she wasn’t as mature as she thought. Or she was really just a pervert! Ranma was so honorable, he had probably just resigned himself to the fact that he was going to get married to a “macho tomboy.” But if he thought she was so unattractive, then why had he been staring at her all night? What other reason was there for him to look at her other than he thought she was nice to look at? He wasn’t making eyes at Shampoo or Ukyo—that Akane saw, anyway. Kasumi’s school friends had noticed, called him “obsessed.”

Akane was constantly seesawing between insecurity and desire with Ranma; sometimes the ride was exhausting, but as pitiful as it was, Akane was alright with the back-and-forth the second she felt Ranma’s eyes on her. Some nights she even felt like she woke up smelling him in her room, so badly did she want him there with her, in the dark, in private. Smiling to herself, Akane breathed in, smelling him now. He smelled like the outdoors. A calming smell.

They were just standing there, enjoying a quiet moment together, when there was a loud, heavy thud from Nabiki’s room. Both of them turned to stare at the wall, and Akane bristled when she heard giggling. Two people, one with a much, much deeper voice.

Her face burning, Akane saw Ranma did not look much better and turned up the radio. What was she thinking? That she was like Nabiki, confident with boys? As if.

“Um, maybe we should head to bed.” Akane said, trying to keep the misery and self-recriminations from her voice.

“Yeah,” as Akane got into bed with an unhappy frown, Ranma said quietly, “y’mind if I get into my sleep clothes?”

Akane stiffened. Yes, of course Ranma, with his ridiculous shoulders and his incredible chest, could sleep in a tank top and boxers in her room. “Oh, yeah.” She said dazedly, and covered her face—though she really wanted to peek, she was not going to be disrespectful.

The sounds of him taking off his Tang shirt, the little ties against his fingers, was audible even with the music. Silk caressing his arms. What that silk felt like when he carried her… Oh and that was definitely his pants hitting the floor. Akane had never noticed boys’ legs until Ranma. So much corded muscle. Just like his neck.

Akane’s heart was pounding when he let her know he was tucked into bed, and she immediately turned off the light to hide her no-doubt singed face.

And then she just lay there, trying desperately to think about anything but the fact that Ranma was in her room and he was in his underwear. Akane knew he didn’t sleep in PJs, because the shameless wonder ran around the house in his underwear nigh daily. Sometimes he strutted around like that as a girl, and Akane had seen more of Ranma than she would have expected in both forms.

Several salacious memories ran through Akane’s brain and she resisted the urge to cover her face. It wasn’t like she was going to project them onto the ceiling.

After a few moments, Akane noticed that it was very quiet, and she knew Ranma usually snored a little. “Still can’t sleep?” She asked, her voice wobbling.

“No.” Akane turned her head, because Ranma’s voice was husky and it was like there was a magnet on his mouth. She saw that he was on his side, watching her in the moonlight.

Akane rolled over to meet his eyes, pulling up her blanket, covering herself because his gaze made her feel exposed. The words came out without her input, a hope, a gentle desire, “Are you warm enough?” If he said no, she could invite him to be warm in her bed.

What was she thinking!? No, she couldn’t do that!

“Yeah,” Ranma’s eyes flickered, “are you?”

“I guess.” Akane felt stupid, now. She changed the subject, away from her dorky attempt at being coy, as far away as possible, “You know, maybe our parents will keep leaving us alone after all.”

“Whyzzat?” His Adam’s apple bobbed again.

Her mouth was suddenly dry, and Ranma’s gaze grew more focused when she wetted her lips, “Well, they have a wedding to plan. And pay for. They’ll be really busy.” She said quietly, watching Ranma watching her, just staring with those beautiful blue eyes.

“Hey, that’s a good point,” he said, looking down, she thought, bashfully, “it’s been pretty nice to just hang out an’ not have them botherin’ us all the time.” And then he blushed, his eyes widening and his lips pressed together.

He’d said that already, but not like that. Not with the additional “hanging out,” which meant with her. With Akane. He liked being with her. He wanted to be with her more. Go on vacation with her. Just the two of them.

Unbidden, she laughed, happily, and covered her mouth, beaming at him as he slowly looked up at her, his cheeks still red, “I agree, again,” the happiness effervesced, and she wanted to share the moment with him, “hey, this is like a sleepover, kinda.” Then, a little shy, she bit her lip; what if Ranma got the wrong idea? Or the right one?

Ranma’s eyebrows rose and drew together, and he mumbled over the word, “A sleepover?”

“Yeah, a slumber party?” When Ranma shook his head, Akane felt a wave of sympathy for him; he’d had such a different, difficult childhood, she had to remember that, “I guess it’s more of a girl thing, usually, but boys have them too.” She said, not wanting him to feel like he missed out or like he was weird for not having had one.

But Ranma seemed interested rather than upset, which was very like him, “Well, I never did. What do you do at them?” He shifted so that he rested on his forearm, and Akane’s whole body warmed at the sight of his ropy neck muscles and bulging arm supporting him easily.

Flustered, Akane tried to remember her slumber parties, “Ah—you fight with pillows sometimes, or do each other’s hair or makeup,” Ranma’s expression flattened, “paint each other’s nails,” he was frowning, now, and Akane smirked, “eat snacks, watch movies, play video games, read comics…” Ranma smiled, his pigtail practically rising.

Then he frowned thoughtfully, which was so cute she wanted to grab his face and squeeze it. “Huh, maybe I should have one this year… Anyone ever do martial arts at these slumber parties?” He asked.

For a moment Akane just laughed—that was all he thought about, she swore. And then she stopped laughing, because it wasn’t like Akane didn’t also think about martial arts a lot. “You know, they don’t, and actually now that you mention it, I didn’t have any friends who practiced martial arts with me at all growing up,” Akane pouted, then, bad memories surfacing, “well, except for all the boys who tried to beat me up.” At least they were just memories, now. Since Ranma came.

“I would have.”

Akane turned her head and stared at him in shock for a second time. “Huh?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

Adam’s apple. Up and down. “I would have, you know, practiced with you, if we grew up together—and I wouldn’t try to beat you up, neither, ‘cause I don’t hit girls.”

There was a second where Akane was supremely annoyed, because he wouldn’t take her seriously, but then she melted… because he really would have practiced martial arts with her. Ranma wouldn’t say it that way, if he didn’t mean it. And if they grew up together? Not just one slumber party, a bunch of them. Childhood friends. It was so sweet.

That was one of the things she loved about Ranma, that he (usually) only said nice things when he meant them. When he was sincere, he was very sincere. 

Overwhelmed with her stupid love for him, Akane said, “Ranma, I think that may honestly be the nicest thing you—” she smirked, “well, any guy, has ever said to me. Thank you.” Then she smiled at him, just really in love with him right then, and pathetically pretending that Ranma was with her, too.

Another comfortable silence. Akane listened to the radio, and watched Ranma watching her. Watching each other. Gosh but they did that a lot. Those quiet minutes they both seemed to enjoy, not speaking, just observing the other, without judgements, without denials. Akane’s toes curled.

“Akane,” Ranma said quietly, leaning forward; she followed his tongue on his lips with interest, “I’m actually a little cold.”

ZING! CRACK! Annoyance sparked in her belly immediately. Why couldn’t he ever just say what he wanted? There was no way Ranma was cold, the guy was a furnace. He had to want something else, right? No, that was stupid. And like she was any better!?

Akane chucked him an extra blanket with much less force than she could to, because maybe Ranma was really cold and she didn’t want him to be, but she’d actually felt how hot he was, and he was just staring at her and staring at her—

Blushing, talking to her. Being nice. And she had pulled that pathetic maneuver first! He was just following her own dorky lead. She should just ask him. Just ask him what he really meant, get the truth. She lay on her back. Unable to meet his eyes, Akane closed hers and let out a nervous breath. “Ranma, were you trying to get an invite into my bed?” All he had to do was say yes, now. She was basically inviting him herself with that!

Yes, she was just as bad as he was and she knew it. A pervert and a coward.

“Uh, no, why would you think a thing like that?” That macho tone. Her temper flared. Why would she, indeed, Ranma!? What was wrong with her, anyway, that he thought she was so uncute, and unsexy, but wanted to stare at her all the time!? The nerve.

Huffing, Akane turned on her side and glared at her hands, clenching them, “A wild guess. I don’t know why I bothered to ask. You always deny everything.”

“Whaddya mean?” Her eighteen-year-old fiance sat up and actually stuck out his lower lip, “I do not.” What a liar! And he was staring at her, again.

“As if. You don’t have the guts to ask me directly, so you have to be all coy and sneaky about it, and then you can’t even admit you were being sneaky.” Why couldn’t he just admit the truth!? And then climb into her bed, where he was clearly welcome, and kiss her!?

“I wasn’t bein’ sneaky. I am cold.” Ranma said loftily.

At least she wasn’t the only lame one. “Uh huh.”

“I am!” He cozied up under the covers, glaring back at her, “‘Sides, yer a girl. I bet your feet are like icicles, anyway. You’re way too frigid to warm me up.”

Akane wasn’t going to stand for that kind of immaturity. She glared at him. “Oh really? Then perhaps you want to sleep in the hallway?” She threatened.

“No, no! I’m—I’m sorry.” Ranma’s hands were out, his eyes gigantic and sparkly in his face. Manipulative little creep! Trying to make her feel bad!

Still, it worked, because she was hopeless. “Fine, I forgive you, but only because I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold sleeping out there.” Akane said with as much dignity as she could scrape together.

Though he relaxed, Ranma was still just staring at her. “Hey, wait a second… you wanted me to get into bed with you.”

Akane whirled on him, horrified. Here it came! He was going to make fun of her! And she would definitely cry! This was why she was always trying to get him to make the first move! She’d just have to deny it—she really was no better than Ranma! How horrifying!

“What?” She lowered her voice, checking that there was still darkness under the door, “Absolutely not! Why would I want a—a—pervert in my bed?” And Akane thrust a finger at him. It usually worked to rile him up.

“Yeah you did. Why ain’t you got all mad at me for what I—what you thought I was tryin’ t’do? You let me sleep in here. You ain’t malleted me once. You want me in your room. Can’t resist me, eh, Akane?” His arrogance only made his face more attractive, which was supremely unfair.

“You are so egotistical.” Akane flopped over to face the wall, “You were the one who wanted to sleep with me.” She clamped her mouth shut in horror, her insides wobbling, her face burning. Suggestive! Perverted!

“Huh? What? Speak up. Can’t hear ya’.” Ranma said easily.

Oh thank the Kami he hadn’t heard her. Trying to recover, Akane made sure to look at him down her nose when she faced him, “I said, you’re the one who asked to sleep in here. What’s that mean, eh?” Saved!

“Well, you still let me in.” He said after a tense moment.

“Yeah, I’m starting to think that was a big mistake!” Akane hissed, glowering down at him. He knew just how to push her buttons.

“Aw, don’t worry, Akane. If you want me to cuddle you so bad I will. You just gotta ask.” Akane’s whole body was so tense she felt like she was going to burst.

What. A. Jerk!

When had Ranma ever initiated anything that wasn’t a competition!? “Oooh…! As if you would have the guts! You can barely hold hands without your face imploding from embarrassment.” She shot back.

“Oh yeah? You think so? Well, we’ll never know because you’re too frigid…!” Ranma sneered.

That did it! She’d show him frigid. Ranma wouldn’t even be able to make a move if she gave him instructions! Time to stop goofing around. She was being just like Ranma. No, worse, because she knew she was being like Ranma, of all people, Mr. Deny Detract Distract, and she wasn’t stopping herself. 

Apoplectic, at herself and him, Akane sputtered out an angry response that was only semi-coherent, “I am not…! How dare you…! I’ll show you!” And then she sat up, scooched over, and lifted the blanket in challenge.

And a half-second later she was asking herself what the hell she was doing. But she’d already started. And he’d never do it anyway, as if, the guy was way too—

Ranma was standing. He was walking to her bed in his tank top and his boxers and she could see his shoulders and his abs and now he was in the bed and he was lying down and under the blanket and—

“There. See? Not scared.” He smirked. Smirked!

Akane felt like she was going to burst, but she swallowed that feeling and held her composure. He wasn’t even anywhere near her and he sounded as egotistical as ever! 

Sarcastically, she managed, “Oh wow, so impressive, you’re lying like six inches away. I’m amazed you’re still alive.” She was amazed she was, too, because now that he had been in there for a few moments, she could feel the heat from his body under the blankets. He certainly wasn’t cold, not cold at all. Very warm, in fact. Hot. She was going to combust.

Ranma glared at her. “Well fine, if you’re so desperate to touch me, then…” he opened those absurd arms, and his throat bobbed, “c’mon you frigid tomboy.”

Her temper roared, all other thoughts burnt to a crisp except the knowledge that Ranma was a jerk! “Frigid… tomboy… I’ll show you frigid…!” She smashed her body into his. Let him feel that! How could he say she was frigid when she felt like she had a fever? When her breasts were against his hard, muscular chest?

Oh my. “How’s that for frigid?” She said, trying to keep everything she was feeling buried under her rapidly disintegrating temper. 

Pervert! So hot. Burning up! His whole chest and his biceps and—! His face was so close, so warm. Akane saw the stubble on his cheek and were his cheekbones always so high? Usually when they were this close they almost kissed. Were they going to kiss? His arms were around her waist. They wrapped around and around, covering her whole midsection. His biceps and shoulders enveloped her. She felt tiny. Miniscule. Breakable.

“Okay, okay,” Ranma started at the music, and Akane felt like her legs were on fire as his chest grazed hers, and his arms squeezed her; sweat broke out on her lower back, “uh, well, I’ll admit, I thought you was gonna be like a little ice box… But I bet you’re still more scared than I am.”

Scared? Akane wasn’t scared. She was so aroused she wanted to grind her whole body against him. But he didn’t need to know that, just so he could no-doubt make fun of her desire. It was so easy, to escape from the moment of bravery she had felt earlier, so easy to go back to just watching herself push him away and be a fool for him. 

Okay maybe it was a little harder to do that with him making her all sweaty.

But still, she had been the first to invite him in, and Ranma should acknowledge it! “Oh please, who let who into whose bed?”

That was also suggestive. Akane felt her neck redden.

“Yer the only one in the room with a bed.” Ranma countered.

What an idiot! Deny, deny, deny! He was holding her, like that, his arms wrapped around her like octopus tentacles! 

“Whatever, at least I was brave enough to invite you, and you still can’t admit that you were trying to…” Akane paused, her brain stuttering for a moment when his hot breath caressed her face; was he closer? “To convince me to invite you!” She just wanted to touch him, ease the tension, to get him to break that focused expression, so she prodded him. Just there, over his heart, and he was definitely, definitely not cold.

Ranma looked bored, but with how much he was blushing she was sure that he was not. Gosh, how sweaty was her face? “Fine, what now, then, tomboy? Since yer so confident. Whaddya gonna do about it?” He said.

Triumph sluiced through her, a warm embrace from the Kami that Ranma gave her such a perfect opening.

“Why Ranma,” Akane said sweetly, “what do you want me to do about… it?” She fluttered her lashes and watched Ranma’s entire face turn as red as a tomato.

After a long moment of silence, during which Ranma stared at her while the radio played and Akane stared right back, he said haltingly, “W-well if you ain’t a frigid chick, then you’d uh, you’d be okay with… with cuddlin’ me back.”

Cuddling. What a dork. How could he claim to not be attracted to her, now? She had him! Never mind that they had never cuddled before, and Akane was trembling inside, singing inside. 

Especially because she had no problem snuggling against him. In fact, Akane did so with care only to keep Ranma from stiffening as he sometimes did when women touched him. Akane ignored that he hadn’t done so when she grabbed him earlier because all she was thinking in that moment, as she circled the back of his neck and his shoulders with her arms, was that Ranma was so warm, and handsome, and sexy, and she was getting exactly what she wanted.

But it wasn’t something she’d ever done, either, “L-Like this?” She prompted, shy, wanting him to like touching her so much that she felt her whole body go on high alert for every gesture, every movement.

“Not bad, not bad, see?” That voice, so deep, a little breathy; Kamisama she was going to get dehydrated. “Who’s runnin’? I ain’t no chicken.” He didn’t look ready to run, but he also wasn’t exactly looking brave, either. He also didn’t sound brave. Why was he still playing games? Akane could play games, and she was good at them.

With a wicked smirk, Akane lobbed a three-pointer from the free throw line right into the empty bucket that was Ranma’s head. “Oh really? Then kiss me.”

Predictably, Ranma went complete still, all of the muscles touching her going taut. Akane tried to maintain her expression, but it was hard when she could feel that he was turned on. It wasn’t that she felt his… erection, she just felt like his groin, held away from hers, was a blast furnace.

“K-Kiss you?” Ranma finally managed, his voice almost squeaky, and he grazed his eyes over her; a good stare, good, long stare, oh yeah, he liked looking at her. “Are you—sure? Like this?”

Why, Ranma? What was wrong with kissing her, alone in her room, in the dark, in her bed, under the covers, while she was wearing tiny silk shorts and a top that was rubbing her nipples?!

If he didn’t kiss her right then she would just combust! Akane went for the Hail Mary: his ego. Worked every time. “Why Ranma? Are you sc—!” Ranma brushed his lips against hers.

Birds sang. A new star was born. 

Excited and feeling alive, and hopelessly in love, Akane let it all go for the first time ever in her entire life. Forget the consequences. Forget marriage. Forget insecurity. She loved Ranma, loved him, and he had kissed her, shy and bashful and sweet, and she wanted to devour him whole.

With a soft cry escaping from her throat, Akane kissed him, harder, wrapping her arms further around him and feeling the roughness of his stubble and the softness of his beautiful lips. Ranma panted against her cheek, kissing her back, and she tangled their legs together, wanting more of his bare skin against hers. He opened his mouth—opened his mouth!

His tongue in her mouth, deeply kissing her, Frenching her! Akane melted; he was being so wonderful. His kisses were so gentle, a little awkward, lots of teeth, but so full of care, and getting better! She could feel him smiling—smiling, while kissing her!

The clumsy, perfect kiss ended too soon for her. Akane just gazed into his face for a few moments while Ranma seared her back with his huge, hot hands. Her groin was pulsing, over and over, and she squeezed her thighs together. They kissed again, practically attacking each other, mutual desire guiding their lips, their mouths, their tongues. Sensual—Akane had never had a sensual experience before. She ached.

Akane was hot, sweating. Kicking the blankets off, Ranma helping her, Akane wound her tongue with his; no more teeth, just hot and wet and soft. Ranma moaned into her mouth, and the sound made her whole body fill up with electricity. Then his leg brushed between hers, warm and firm. His muscles against her muscles, his skin against hers. And against her stomach, poking her, hot, pulsating—

They both stopped. Mutual.

Akane looked down, then up at Ranma’s face. Her whole body was still buzzing, but especially the juncture of her thighs, where his thigh was pressed. She was wet, he was hard. It was a lot all at once. 

A lot. More. Akane started to breathe harder, the arousal crawling from her sex, to her hips, into her stomach, like her desire was hunting.

What should she do? He wasn’t moving. Should she move? Insecurities, thousands of insults about her body, rose up, watching her, waiting for her to show a soft space for them to dig their claws into.

Ranma breathed against her face, his expression unmistakably aroused, enthralled. Obsessed. Then he broke the stillness by pushing against her center with his hard, hot leg, and Akane felt like her body just rose with him, the pleasure sparking—pure pleasure, perfect, exquisite. Akane let out an involuntary cry, her head falling back.

Not just watching anymore. No more bashfulness. Ranma crushed them together, sucked on her lips, her tongue, and all the while below her waist he brought her closer and closer to madness. Their tangled breaths and moans were high and urgent, and Akane wasn’t even embarrassed because this was Ranma and she wanted him to hear, wanted him to know. Not to mention the sound of his enjoyment was making her lose her mind. He was pleasuring her, explicitly, excitedly, absorbed in her sex, her mouth, her body, clearly enjoying every moment because his erection was grinding against her and she felt like every single hair on her neck was standing on end. 

With a gasp of effort, Ranma pulled back and stared deeply into her eyes, his attention trapping her, his face slack with lust. So beautiful.

“Akane, what do you need?” He said, that voice—his voice—rough, and so direct! Akane knew what he meant and she wanted it. Wanted it so bad. More memories. More time. More life.

But there it was, the soft bit, the vulnerable bit. What if he laughed? What if he wasn’t serious? What if he didn’t really want her? 

Akane fitted her lip between her teeth slowly, apprehensive. “I’m—I’m embarrassed, I can’t say.” She whispered, and he pushed against her again and she shuddered.

“Come on,” and he kissed and kissed, her whole face, so tender, so sweet, caring, and she loved him so much that she squeaked, just to get some of the feelings out, “it’s okay, tell me.” He stopped moving, but she didn’t want him to! She wanted—she wanted—Akane rubbed against him.

“That’s so…” Ranma hid his face in her neck, caressing with his skin, his breath, steamy, “sexy…” and like he’d plucked a string inside her, Akane’s body shook.

“Oh Ranma…” He gasped against her throat and Akane shivered and slid her hands into his undershirt, feeling the textured skin of his back with raw, unbridled delight. She could say it. It was Ranma. She could say what she needed from him—and it was a need—because it was Ranma.

Ranma’s fingers brushed under the waistband of her shorts and oh she wanted him to use that hand everywhere. That big, calloused, warm hand with those fingers, those beautiful, dexterous fingers. 

“Touch me.” She pleaded, and it was her time to hide her blushing face, her desire, against his beautiful neck.

Ranma’s response was filled with care, and such excitement, “With my hand?” Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Yes…” Akane could not assent in enough ways. Looking at him was hard, and she shut her eyes, waiting with bated breath.

“Look at me,” Akane shuddered inside, “please.” His warm face against hers, loving. Loving? “I wanna make sure you—c’mon, look at me.”

Ranma was always so good at making her feel brave. She opened her eyes, and he rewarded her by sliding his hand into the front of her shorts. Blessed her with those perfect fingers.

Every remaining coherent thought in Akane’s mind was obliterated by the pleasure that shot through her, hard and fast, as Ranma gently rubbed her clitoris through her panties, grinding the heel of his hand into her mound. Gasping, higher and higher, the tension coiling and coiling. Akane closed her mouth, swallowing as much of her own degenerate moans as she could. Ranma’s face was serious, intent, his eyes practically inescapable.

The tension pulled inside her hips, and Ranma pressed harder, and then he was devouring her, truly, with his mouth as she exploded. Her body screamed with pleasure, every nerve ending alight, every pore beading sweat, her panties soaked. Then Ranma had her under him and there was a vision in her mind of them naked and in that position, joined by other body parts.

Kissing her deeply, Ranma helped her ride the orgasm out to the end, until she was spent, lying sweating and gasping against her pillow. And he was still smiling, smiling while masturbating her and making her come. She was so full of just watching him.

Akane relaxed, stunned and delighted. “Ranma,” and she felt her tear ducts release, she was so boneless, “that was amazing—thank you.” She breathed, trying to see his handsome face through the water in her eyes.

“Hey, no problem. That was fun to watch.” He sounded so damn self-assured.

Akane laughed and rolled her eyes, “You’re going to be so much cockier now, aren’t you?” She teased.

“I mean I am right now.” His voice was throaty and seductive and Akane just could not stand it. A fresh lava flow rolled through her as he pressed his erection against her.

Flustered, Akane covered her face. But she wasn’t embarrassed by Ranma’s manhood. She was embarrassed by how much she wanted him to keep touching her with it.

Perverts! The both of them!

When Ranma took his hand out of her pants, Akane was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. And then he brushed his fingers against her breast and Akane instinctively chased his hand with her flesh. She had told him to touch her, after all! Touch, touch! 

“I ain’t got no idea how this happened.” She could hear him smiling.

“I have no idea either. I think we were arguing.” Akane looked down at her chest and saw him cover her entire breast with his massive, broiling hand. Then he lay beside her, and Akane could feel his erection pulsing against her hip, the hips he had made fun of, but which he seemed to be enjoying against his dick right now.

His dick! Touching her!

Akane watched him, wondering. He was caressing her breast more, stroking her. Akane wanted to touch him, so she did, and he didn’t shy or pull away as she brushed her fingers over his arm.

Bare skin. More.

Feeling somewhat tipsy on whatever chemicals were saturating her brain after Ranma gave her an orgasm in her bed in the dark, Akane started to unbutton her shirt. Ranma watched her fingers, his expression dazed, almost dreamy. “I guess we’re not arguin’ anymore.” His voice was husky, suggestive.

Smiling, Akane said, “I guess not.” Final button. No need to turn back. They opened the shirt together, kissed, deep, sensual, excited. Then he pulled away to stare at her boobs and Akane tried not to giggle by how wistfully he eyed them, like they were old friends he was welcoming back after a long absence.

Akane started breathing harder, a little nervous with his gaze so intent on her. Then Ranma kissed her again and she forgot to breathe at all. His hot hand on her breast, touching her nipple directly! Akane jerked at the pleasurable little zap, felt his manhood jump against her leg and couldn’t stand not touching him anymore.

She stroked him, through the cloth covering him from her eyes, and Ranma started in her arms, gently groping her breast as he ripped his mouth away with a soft exhale. Thrilled by what she was causing in him, Akane began to touch him more insistently, watching his expression, enthralled by the absolutely devastatingly attractive vulnerability on his face.

Ranma kissed her tightly, cupping the back of her neck as she rubbed her palm up and down his length, imagining the size of him. Imagining other things, things that were definitely more perverted than what she was already doing. Akane didn’t really care. She felt giddy, like she was doing something that she had been waiting for her whole life. He pressed her against his chest, dragging her tongue into his mouth and massaging it pleasantly. Akane’s spine tingled.

Then all at once everything shifted. He tensed, winced, pulling away with a hitch in his breath and gently grasped her wrist, stilling her in that warm, soft, iron grip. Akane jerked her hand away. 

“I hurt you!” Akane cried out, and she knew she was loud. “I’m so sorry…!” What an idiot! What was she thinking!? She broke bricks all the time! She was so clumsy, so dorky, unsexy—

“It’s just my shorts—they’re ah, rubbin’ me a little—s’unconfortable…” oh, oh, so she could… touch… under the shorts… Akane’s face was on fire, and so was the rest of her. More!? 

Ranma was still talking, and Akane’s brain was rapidly leaking out of her ears, “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. That felt great.” Great! Akane’s confidence soared. She felt dizzy with relief and arousal as he kissed her, marauding her mouth with his tongue, digging his hands into her hair and making her heart flutter. She giggled, teetering on how much he seemed to be enjoying just kissing her and fondling her breast. When he started to pull away, Akane’s excitement was already through the roof, colliding with distant planets. She wanted under the boxers!

“We can try some—ah!” Akane dove into his shorts before she could lose her nerve and he was like a tonfa covered in the softest, smoothest skin she’d ever touched. And his cry! That delighted exhale, like the best thing in the world had just arrived and he was about to tell her all about it. “Akane!” He hissed between his teeth, against her grinning face, “If you do that, I’m gonna—oh!” She felt for his precum, and used it to make her hand move easier like she had done this before—of course she had never, but with Ranma!? Anything.

“We took sex ed together, Ranma,” she reassured him, anticipation building in her, “I know what’s gonna happen.” And she’d get to feel when it did. See it.

His eyes drifted shut slowly, “O-kay, can you uh—” He swallowed; up and down in the muscular pillar of his neck. His eyes scrunched, and his whole face was red in the dim.

“Tell me what to do, look at me and tell me.” She wanted to watch, like he got to. She was aching with the thought of watching Ranma orgasm centimeters from her face.

Ranma’s eyes snapped open, right near hers, their lips almost touching again, “Wrap your fingers around me,” he murmured after another moment, and Akane flushed, her lips curving upwards as she encased him, squeezing him and moving with more urgency, trembling. Ranma’s breathing picked up, his chest heaving. “Yeah—yes, just like that.” Ranma was feeling good, really good; she’d never seen him look like that before, like he could hardly see, like he was dying and losing his mind at the same time. Akane grinned broader. She could feel his abs flex and ran her hands up under his tank top, sliding across his sweaty skin, touching his muscles, feeling them twitch.

Ranma was feeling really, really, good, and Akane, the “frigid tomboy,” was causing it. His dick pulsed in her hand. Ranma’s Adam’s apple moved, and she wanted to kiss that. So she did, then the rest of his neck, mouthing his salty, sweaty skin and then his length jerked, his body spasming as hot, sticky cum coated her hand while he made the sexiest sounds. Overjoyed, Akane sucked his neck, kissed his cheek, his mouth, her hand moving easily up and down, “I’m so happy,” she murmured, unable to help herself, “you look so cute this way.” His face was all ruddy and scrunched.

Ranma sagged, panting, his head pillowed on her cheek, and she felt his dick soften. Wanting to touch him but not wanting to cover their clothes in cum, Akane wiped her sticky hand on her pillow and flipped it over to be dealt with later. She wanted to snuggle. Now.

“That was… awesome.” Ranma said, gazing at her in wonder.

Akane grinned, “You’re welcome…” They kissed. And kissed. And Ranma held her, like he couldn’t wait to, and made no move to leave, no suggestion that he return to his futon, or escape out the window. They were wrapped up in each other, and for once they were alone and music was playing, the night caressing them, hiding them.

Soon she was tucked against him, her back cradled against his chest. Ranma nuzzled her nape, kissing, and Akane sighed and brushed her rear against his groin, tightening her fingers on his wrist. She had thought that when she and Ranma ever finally kissed, that she wouldn’t know what to do afterwards. But they had done a lot, more than Akane had thought they were going to, certainly, and the most natural thing in the world was to cuddle with him after.

And he was watching her, still. She felt the prickling. The sensation of his eyes on her.

“Akane?” He said softly, and she felt his lips move.

“Yes?” She yawned, rolled over, stared into his eyes because if he kept doing that to her neck Akane wasn’t going to be able to understand him soon. Ranma stared at her, true to form, in silence. “Yeah?” She urged, worried.

“I lied, I lied to you.”

Akane began to push away, but something in his face stopped her. He didn’t look scared, or worried. Ranma looked… oh.

“What do you mean?” She whispered, putting her face in his, warm and sweaty.

Ranma cradled her head with his hand, touched her face. Oh. Oh. Oh. 

“That day, when we almost—when our pops tried to get us married…” heart, pounding, out of her chest, “I wanted to tell you…” “I didn’t say it, but I thought it, in my mind. I dunno how you heard. I do love you.”

“Oh Ranma!” She was dreaming, right? No! He was warm. Her tears were hot. She could kiss him, right here in her bed, as many times and as hard as she wanted. She pulled away, he tried to kiss her again but she had to tell him, now, now, now, “I love you, too. I love you. I love you.” Pushing him, pushing the words into his heart.

“I love you.” He repeated. Akane laughed and grabbed him, holding him, squeezing him, and she felt his eyes on her, looking, watching.