DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Rumiko
Takahashi, and I am using them without permission, but I'm making no money from
their use, so probably no one will care anyway. The song - "I'll Be Home for
Christmas" was written by Al Kent and Don Gannon, and I think Bing Crosby was
the first to sing it, but I have no idea if anyone still holds the rights to it.
If so, then I'm also using it without permission, but so are about a million
other people in the world today. Same goes for "O Holy Night", which is my very
favorite Christmas carol, but is only mentioned very briefly in this story.
WARNINGS: Starts out angsty, then degenerates into sap, WAFF and a very mild
yuletide lime. Basically plotless. Clichés and holiday symbolism abound. Please
brush after each use.
I'll Be Home for Christmas
The glow of a large cheering fire crackled gently along the rounded shapes of logs which made up the structure of the cozy cabin, splashed against the typical heavy tapestries and natural framed art that adorned the walls here in there, and competed in an almost flirtatious manner with strings of white Christmas lights that were hidden in and amongst spruce and pine boughs tied with red ribbons. Lit candles scattered in a carefully planned haphazard pattern around the room added to the toasty orange glow coming from the stonework hearth, their many and varied scents mingling to create an overall feeling of spices and apple. Notes of tasteful and non-intrusive renditions of holiday songs sprinkled the close comforting warmth in a friendly way, coming from speakers well-hidden under the couch and in the upper wooden corners of the room.
At the back, beyond the thick plush rugs and durably upholstered furnishings, a large Christmas tree was positioned to one side of the fireplace, and was currently in the midst of being properly attired for the holiday. Colorful strings of blinking lights had already been put in place, along with furry boas of gold and silver garland. Steaming glasses of hot spiked cider rested with cookies and blueberry bread on a nearby coffee table, waiting for attention from the two who were engaged in the decoration, both of whom had been working without a single word being exchanged for quite some time.
Akane brushed her dark blue hair back over her right shoulder as she bent to retrieve a sparkling ornament from one of the storage boxes filled with holiday trappings that had been stacked handily close. In the two years that had passed since her graduation from high school, she had let her mane grow out again, and it now fell to just below her shoulders in long straight cascades, punctuated by a slight habitual curl at the ends that no amount of wet brushing would banish. Straightening, she let heavy bangs fall across her eyes, only to flip them away with a quick flick of her head as she stepped back to the tree.
Holding the ornament, the young woman’s deep brown eyes searched over evergreen branches for the perfect spot to put it, but her gaze inadvertently fell upon her companion, and for a long contemplative moment, Akane forgot the holiday activity she was engaged in.
How handsome Ranma had grown! Of course, she could now begrudgingly admit that he had always been at least marginally attractive, but it seemed that the brief shimmer of time between high school and present day had gifted him with a special sort of beauty that only maturity and hard work could really account for. He was taller now, and still slender, but in a way that was firm and strong. His was the body of a dancer, an athlete, a martial artist obviously. A red Chinese-style shirt, the type he still favored for benefits of mobility and durability, clung to his strong widened chest just loosely enough to hide his true form, but tightly enough to give tantalizing hints as to his potency and power.
Rather than squaring off like his father’s, Ranma’s face had followed the genetic path laid down by his mother and slenderized with his maturity. The roundness that had marked his youth was gone, but there was still something of a sixteen year old boy in his features - perhaps a hint of innocence, a touch of mischievousness, a little sprinkling of the arrogant blindness that had been his hallmark when Akane first met him. But more than these memories of youth, his face now reflected the quieting heat of battles meant to test his mettle, of challenges which had pushed him further than he had ever thought he could go, and of a certain seriousness that had dogged him through his first two years of adulthood. He was still Ranma, still the occasionally insensitive genki irritant that he had been before, but those qualities had now been tempered with a more level head, a new found ability to think before he acted, and with a patience that could only come from waiting endlessly for something completing that might never arrive.
This last gave Ranma sad and resigned aura, one that had been slowly developing over the last year, and one which had grown especially despondent in recent months. Standing close to the tree, holding an ornament in his own hands, Ranma’s serious face was bathed in the glow of Christmas, and orange highlights from the fire behind him skated over his ink black hair. A winking green light reflected in his left eye, a blue one in his right, and the effect gave him a slightly off-kilter look that was severely out of place with the melancholy surrounding him.
Outside, the wind picked up, and snow trembled against the logs of the resort cabin. Akane glanced briefly at the window, saw the swirl of dark white which obscured any view, and inwardly shivered. She was glad that they had arrived when they did and were no longer out in the Christmas storm, which began brewing typically as soon as they left the city, packed snugly in Ranma’s Yukon Denali. As soon as the thought manifested, however, Akane shoved it promptly to the back of her mind. She did not want to be reminded that it was very likely that someone -was- out in the storm this Christmas Eve . . .
Instead, she put her attention back on the tree, finding a spot for her ornament and moving to retrieve another. The decorating was nearly finished, and each jewel they hung on the fragrant branches sparkled gently in the glow of the fire and the lights. The effect was very pretty, but sadly fractured. Akane glanced to the top of the tree. For some reason, they had been unable to find the star, either in the old decorations Kasumi had given them, or in the storage boxes that contained their own. It was a shame, but she and Ranma had silently agreed to leave the tree top bare and incomplete.
It was . . . fitting, after all.
Akane paused with ornament in hand, some of Ranma’s sadness and longing welling up within her, perhaps in sympathy with the expression of carefully masked loss on his face. How could he go on like this? she wondered. How could he live with the longing, with the pain? Certainly he was a strong person to have been through so much in his life, but she knew him well enough to be privy to the knowledge that much of his emotional strength was only a ruse. In fact, he often felt things far more deeply than she did . . . than any one around him did. Ranma’s emotions were like a buried wild river that coursed through him secretly, and only one person had ever been able to ford that hazard.
That person was not Akane, despite everything. It was a fact she was keenly aware of. And Ranma did not like to talk about the white waters that poured through his soul, but it was Christmas Eve after all, and in a few days it would be New Years, and was this not the time for introspection, retrospection, and evaluation of one’s life?
"Ranma," Akane began carefully, sheltering the ornament she held with a gentle hand, looking down at it without really seeing. "Ranma, do you have any regrets?"
As quiet as she was, the sudden words breaking into the thick scents of spice and the close warmth of the room were startling. Ranma blinked, as if waking reluctantly out of a self-imposed daydream, faltering a bit as he fussed with the prickly branches of the tree in an attempt to get a string of lights to lay just right.
"Whaddya mean?" he replied using a tight gruff tone that he obviously hoped would warn her off before she decided to pursue the line of conversation any further. For a brief moment, Akane almost heeded the warning, not wanting to cause him any further pain, but remembered herself before dismissing the subject as nothing.
"I mean the decision we made," she prompted, wincing a bit as she recalled the pain and strife their announcement of almost two years ago had caused. "Do you think we did the right thing?"
"Of course we did," Ranma told her firmly, taking a step away from the tree so that he could gaze at it critically for a moment before turning the cold cut sapphires of his eyes on her. "You’re happy now, ain’t you?"
"Yes, very," she admitted, almost hating herself for being so content when he obviously was not. It was a selfish feeling, she knew, but the last two years, although hard, had been the best of her entire life, and she did not regret their mutual decision in the least. Unfortunately, her joy turned bittersweet when held against his unhappiness and loneliness.
"But you’re not," she continued, looking up at him pointedly.
A bit of anger shot through his expression, but it was quickly replaced with the same sort of resignation that had been slowly building within him for almost a year, a surrender which was reaching its boiling point now. He turned his attention back to the tree and unnecessarily straightened an ornament that did not need the attention. "I knew what I was gettin’ into . . . " he muttered.
Akane sighed softly, her dark eyes filled with sympathy and perhaps even a touch of pity. "Then you do regret it."
"I didn’t say that!" Ranma snapped, glaring at her once again, the sudden heat of his anger overpowering even the glow of the fire. "And that ain’t a fair question to ask me right now, Akane. Don’t put words into my mouth, and stop trying to make me doubt myself and how I feel!"
Akane was rather startled by his outburst, and by his words as well. She took a step back, holding the ornament to her chest. "Ranma, that isn’t what I was trying to do at all," she assured, keeping her voice low and level so as not to spark any further anger or misunderstanding. "It’s just that you’ve been so sad lately, and I hate seeing you that way."
Her tone was apparently placating enough, because Ranma’s ire vapored into nothingness as quickly and easily as water drops on a hot grill. His eyes went to the same window that Akane had looked out earlier, and he saw the same imposing twist of white and wind that she had. All at once, the weight, solitude and pain of the past year seemed to press down on him and he slumped just a bit unconsciously. Proud straight martial artist no more, he now seemed even younger and more unsure than he had ever been at sixteen.
"I’m not sad . . . " he said softly, shutting his dark blue eyes against the storm outside. "I’m waiting . . . "
Akane bit her lower lip, a spark of her own anger flaring against whatever fate had deemed it necessary that he suffer so. "In this case, Ranma . . . " she told him frankly, "I really don’t see the difference."
Ranma gave her a wounded look, one that twisted her heart and made her immediately sorry that she’d said anything at all, but the expression, like all of Ranma’s emotions, was gone in an instant as he immediately tempered it with masks and forced indifference. After irritably giving a branch of the tree a flick with the back of his hand, he crossed the room, heading for the birch stairs that led to the upper level of the resort cabin, glow of the fire following him.
"This is stupid, I’m tired of decorating," he drawled, sounding very much like the disinterested teenager he’d been only a couple of years previously.
"Ranma, I’m sorry," Akane turned to follow him with an apologetic gaze as he mounted the stairs, pine boughs which decorated the wooden structures quivering with each of his footfalls. "Please stay here and help me finish the tree."
He paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, shooting another look of irritation and immense sadness at the innocent Christmas tree, as if he could somehow blame it for all of the pain he had been feeling. "What’s the point in finishing?" he asked, obviously not expecting any sort of answer, as he wasn’t even actually addressing Akane. "There’s no star anyway."
With that, he disappeared into his room, letting the door shut behind him with a final sounding bang that rattled all of the decorations and caused the tree to sway uncertainly for a moment.
Heaving another sigh, Akane sank onto one of the twin couches, very much regretting that she’d even brought the matter up. Slowly, the mournful strains of _O Holy Night_ penetrated her hearing as she realized that the music was still playing, the fire was still crackling and the lights were still winking, all oblivious to the wave of hurt that Ranma had just generated. As if to add emphasis, the wind howled distantly from outside and shook at the windows, seeking entrance so that it could freeze this painful moment forever in time.
Blinking back a few tears of worry and sadness of her own, Akane looked down at the ornament she was still holding, as she caught the glittering shine of its surface from the corner of her vision. It was a glass ball of red, sporting a shimmering green hand painted dragon of Chinese design holding a bough of holly in one claw and a sprig of mistletoe in the other. Gold gilt touched each of the elegant creature’s serpentine scales, and running down the longitude of the other side of the glass sphere characters also of gold gilt proclaimed, "Our First Christmas Together" with the date being that of the year before.
Akane lowered the ornament into her lap and ran the tip of a finger over the satin glass surface. "Oh Ranma . . . " she moaned softly, letting her eyes fall closed.
She stayed sitting there alone for quite some time, while song after song fell unheard from the speakers, while the lights twinkled and the fire flickered. The feel of spice in the air became fainter as some of the candles guttered and died, as if blown out by the wind still whining outside. The tree shimmered in its corner, unfinished. She simply did not have the heart to tend to it any longer. Opening her eyes, Akane let her gaze fall on the closed kitchen door and a moment later she had set the ornament carefully aside on an end table and was heading for that kitchen, selfishly seeking the comfort and warmth that she knew lay within.
However, a rattle at the front door of the resort cabin startled her from her journey, pausing her halfway. Wonderingly, she at first lifted her clasped hands to her chin and stared wide-eyed, but as the rattling continued and intensified, Akane seemed to remember herself. Plastering a ready scowl on her face, she stepped lightly to the fireplace and grabbed up one of the iron pokers to wield like a bokkan. In a slight crouch, the fierce young woman slunk back toward the door, weapon dangerously ready.
When the door opened, it was with surprising slow deliberateness, but snow and wind still swirled in instantly, and the cold air whooshed around Akane like a small vortex. Wincing, she turned slightly against it, using her free hand to hold down her billowing skirt and shivering violently at the icy onslaught. Winter was allowed into the cabin for only a moment before the door was shut again firmly and Akane was quick to resume her defensive stance, whirling back to face whomever had been stupid enough to invade her sanctuary on Christmas Eve.
Her eyes widened as she beheld the young man who was leaning wearily against the closed door, covered with snow, ice and several layers of clothing, her heart stopping for a long moment. She dropped the poker abruptly, and the sound of it clattering to the wooden floor caught his attention. They stared at each other in astonishment, then a smile that felt more joyous than even the season could account for formed on Akane’s face and she drew in a lungful of biting air with the intention of happily crying out his name.
But Ryoga stepped forward and put a hand over her mouth before she could announce his arrival, rough fingers cold against her skin. She gazed wonderingly at him, questioning his action, until the snow-covered martial artist smiled, dark brown eyes sparkling with a reflection of Christmas from the room beyond her, and put a finger to his lips. Understanding that he wanted to keep his arrival a surprise, Akane nodded and he released her, only to find his arms full as she threw a hug around him a second later.
"Ryoga, Ryoga, Ryoga . . . " she whispered chantingly, pressing her warm cheek to his cold one, happy tears welling and freezing between them. He wrapped sturdy arms around her and lifted her off the floor, squeezing her until it seemed as if her last breath had fled her. She didn’t care about that, however. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the living breathing man holding her now. Her dearest and most treasured friend! She tightened the hold around his neck, feeling a cold tickle as his long hair brushed over her hands, and then pulled back so that she could gift him with happy tearful kisses. "Ryoga-kun!"
"Akane-san . . . shhhhh!" he muttered back, trying to keep her excitement contained for the time being, but also eager to accept the kisses and return them in kind, holding her up against him as if she were a beacon that he was clinging to in the night. He pressed her into his thick layer of coats and clothing, small compact body against his taller form. "Akane . . . "
"We’ve missed you so much . . . " she gave him a final kiss, then fussily squirmed until he put her down so that she could look him over and assure herself that he was whole, hearty and indeed real. Finishing a quick initial inspection, the small young woman grabbed him by the front of his winter coat and yanked him down to glare at him eye to eye. "Where on earth have you been, baka?!"
Ryoga gamely allowed himself to be yanked and pulled, bright fondness shining in his smile. "It’s a long story, Akane-san," he replied, weariness evident even through his happiness. She took note of its presence, however, and let go of him so that he could straighten himself out and shrug the heavy pack off his shoulders, shaking snow out of his long hair before it melted.
Like Ranma, Ryoga had gained height as he matured, but unlike Ranma he had not grown so much slender as he grew lean. A hard existence of living on the road had gone a long ways towards toughening the former Lost ‘Boy’ so that he was now a wiry hard and sturdy version of the young teenager Akane had known during high school. He too had lost any babyish roundness that remained in his face, and his features were now more wolfish than otherwise, an image only enhanced by his prominent canines. His dark black-brown hair was the length of Akane’s father’s, but still held back out of the way by what she knew to be an endless multitude of potentially deadly bandannas. Indeed, Ryoga’s entire presence was laced with a certain amount of danger now, as he had grown up defending himself and those he held dear with as much ferocity as the animal he resembled.
But, underneath the hardness, he was still the boy that Akane remembered. Still occasionally unsure of himself, still bitter at an existence that seemed more unfair than most. His habitual self-deprecating tenancies had been tempered somewhat by events two years previous, but they did remain beneath the surface of Ryoga’s hard exterior, surfacing occasionally to remind everyone that this pillar of strength was just as easily fractured as anyone else.
As Ryoga pulled off his layers of coats, revealing a typical durable earthen yellow shirt beneath, his abyssal eyes swept over the warm coziness of the livingroom, over the twinkling lights and the merrily dancing fire, and a glow seemed to come to his expression. He sighed with a finality, closing his eyes briefly to savor the moment of his return, to revel silently that he was back where he belonged, and Akane couldn’t help but forget her question concerning his whereabouts in favor of hugging him again, slipping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against the roughened material of his shirt.
"Akane . . . " he muttered in a dreamy way, voice rumbling lowly through his strong chest. His fingers brushed through her hair, gently despite the awesome strength she knew each digit possessed. He had always been especially careful with her, as if he considered her a fragile treasure, and he was the one person that she let get away with that sort of delicate handling. Akane found it insulting when anyone else treated her like a china doll, but when it was Ryoga . . . the care was genuine and warming.
His musky scent filled her with a sense of outdoors, underlain with the tanginess of pine and the slightly metallic zest of falling snow. And though she would have liked to have stayed close to his strong presence for even longer, Akane knew that place was not hers. She pulled back and offered him a brilliant smile, holding his hands and leading him further into the room, into the warmth and apple spice. "You’ve come a long way, Ryoga-kun. Sit by the fire and warm up while I get Ranma."
"No, let me . . . " he shook his head, low tone a purr of happiness and anticipation. "I want to surprise him." Looking almost as excited and giddy as a little boy, he came to a stop before the fire and drew in an obvious breath, preparing Akane for what he was about to do.
"RANMA SAOTOME!!" he bellowed, the fierceness in his tone belied by the sparkle in his eyes and the wide silly grin on his face. "Prepare to die!"
Akane giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.
The door at the top of the stairs slammed open almost before the battle cry was completely out of Ryoga’s mouth, and Ranma appeared looking shocked, slightly bleary and ruffled. He paused abruptly, with his hands tightly gripping the birch railing around the landing, and stared down into the livingroom at the lean young man standing before the fire, splashed in its orange glow. "R - ryoga?!" he stammered in disbelief, mouth opening and closing as if the hinge that held it was broken.
Akane saw all of Ryoga’s cocky good-nature drain away as he was faced by his other after nearly an entire year. The grin faded into a frank gaze of longing and astonishment, and the sparkle in his eyes took on a softer more languishing quality as gentle crystalline tears formed within them, reflecting the white lights of the pine boughs decorating the staircase. He pulled in a breath and exhaled with a bit of a apologetic laugh. "Hai . . . " he answered, spreading his arms in a becking gesture.
Ranma blinked several times, as if still not daring to trust his own sense of sight. His hold on the railing constricted until the wood was splintering under his fingers, and his entire body tensed into springing readiness. In an instant, a torrent of emotions washed up from the silently raging river in his soul, all battling each other for attention. Disbelief, anger, yearning, the pain of a long lonely year . . . but it was finally unabashed giddy joy that won out. The young pig tailed martial artist grinned like a wild man, a fearsomely elated expression that would have sent most sane people running for cover, and launched himself from the landing with a happy "Hiiiiiyaaaaa!" war cry of his own.
Even though Ryoga was braced to receive him, the force with which Ranma hit bowled both men back onto one of the couches, which promptly tipped backwards, spilling them in a tangle of limbs onto a thickly thatched rug covering the wooden floor. Whether they even noticed or not was debatable, as they were locked in a tight fighting embrace, each doing their best to bestow more violent affection than the other, to make up for a year of separation and distance. Any outsider would have been startled by the ferocity of hits that were followed immediately by kisses, the shoves and kicks that were gentled with loving bites and touches, but Akane tearfully watched the two pelt each other with fury and love, understanding them completely. Battling was their way of expressing themselves, and had been since their time together in junior high.
The unfinished Christmas tree swayed from the strength of their happy war, decorations rattling.
"What in the world is all the noise?"
Akane looked up sharply, startled from the reunion of contrasts going on before her. Ukyo stood in the doorway of the kitchen, where she had barricaded herself hours previously so that she could prepare a Christmas Eve feast undisturbed by either Ranma’s taste testing or Akane’s good intentions. Holding both spatula and wooden spoon, the young women looked puzzled and faintly annoyed, her view of the wrestling martial artists blocked by the overturned couch. That annoyance became full-blown irritation when a table and lamp were sacrificed to the battle, tipping over with a crash and the explosion from a broken bulb.
Apparently unconcerned about the damage, the youngest Tendo daughter fairly flew to Ukyo, grasping her arm tightly and pulling her into the room. "Ucchan!" she piped happily. "Ryoga is back!"
"What? He is?" Ukyo gasped, her vexation melting instantly. A bright smile lit her face as well, and her storm blue eyes seemed to take on a brighter glow, as if lit by a candle that had lain dormant for nearly a year.
By the time the girls rounded the couch, Ranma had gained the upper hand and was sitting straddled on Ryoga’s hips, while the nomad’s chest heaved with panting breaths below him. Both were ruffled, probably battered and bruised, but that sort of thing had never matter to either of them. Rough and tumble was how they dealt with each other, how they communicated, and they were both as exhilarated by a good fight as they were by each other.
However, now that the initial greeting was out of the way, Ranma wanted some answers, some reasons for the pain he had endured. He grabbed Ryoga’s front while the other was still catching his breath, much as Akane had done, and yanked him up so that they were face to face. Ranma’s blue eyes blazed hotly as he demanded, "Where the HELL have you been?!"
Ryoga gave the same answer once again, his mouth forming into a content and weary smile. "It’s a long story," he said, leaning up a bit to nip Ranma’s chin with the tip of a fang, eyes drifting halfway closed as he purred with the pure joy of simply being with his Ranma again at last.
Mollified for the moment by the loving gesture, Ranma let go of Ryoga’s shirt and hugged him instead, with an embrace of iron, pulling the wandering young man tight against his chest. They were joined a heartbeat later as Ukyo, blithely calling out Ryoga’s name, knelt beside them and wrapped her arms around them both, followed by Akane mimicking the gesture on their other side. Thus the four young people locked themselves in a tight knot which fairly vibrated with happiness and relief, the object of their former worry encased securely at the center.
The embrace lasted forever, and it was over in just a few moments. The two girls retreated, but stayed hovering close, while Ranma helped Ryoga to his feet, unarguably glowing with joy. As soon as he was freed, and had straightened his rumbled clothing, Ryoga offered them a deep apologetic bow. "Gomen nasai," he said in his usual low tones, though meaning the words with every part of his being. "I did not mean to be away for so long."
"Well, you never do, Sugar," Ukyo winked teasingly at him, delighted when he colored faintly. "But we forgive you anyway. Ne, Akane-chan?"
"Of course we do, Ryoga-kun," Akane tipped her head with a fond tender smile and moved closer to Ukyo’s side. The two girls stood in remarkable contrast with each other, Ukyo’s slender height shadowing Akane’s curvy, smaller and more compact figure. But as mismatched as they seemed to be, they fit together perfectly when the chef wrapped her arms around the other young woman and embraced her tightly.
Ryoga regarded them warmly. As both Akane and Ranma had matured attractively, the young okonomiyaki chef had likewise blossomed into inarguable handsome beauty. Tall, slender and willowy, Ukyo nonetheless retained an attractive figure that was at once feminine and masculine, moving with a strong dominating grace and elegance. She was clad in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that might have been a bit too revealing had it not been covered with a slightly girly apron, and her long chestnut hair was currently pulled back into a functional tail, leaving curling tendrils to frame and soften her slightly squared face.
"And now we have a real reason to celebrate," Ukyo decided, squeezing Akane. "C’mon, Akane-chan. Give me a hand in the kitchen," she offered, knowing full well that she was taking not only her own life in her hands, but Ranma and Ryoga’s too. Ah well, if worse came to worse, they would have over a week to recover before college classes started up again. And the anxiousness in Ranma’s expression showed that he clearly wanted to be alone with Ryoga for at least a few moments before holiday festivities began.
"All right," Akane agreed. Arms wrapped loosely around waists, they headed toward the kitchen, with Ukyo tossing one more pleased glance toward the boys, her heart glad to see them standing close together again, a perfectly matched pair. A prettier sight than any Christmas package or holiday greeting card.
Her storm-like greyed blue eyes reflected the twinkling colors of the tree, which brought Ryoga’s thoughts back to the present, and to the treasures he had been carefully hauling with him for quite some time now.
"Oh," he said, blinking as if suddenly roused, while the kitchen door swung shut behind Ukyo and Akane. "I’m glad you guys haven’t finished the tree yet. I have something for it."
He moved back to his pack where it had been abandoned by the door, Ranma shadowing him as if fearful of letting his other get further than arm’s length from him. Together they pulled the pack to a couch close to the tree, while Ranma complained good-naturedly about how frickin’ heavy the thing was, and Ryoga sat to open it, glad weariness evident in each of his gentle graceful movements. Resting cross-legged between the pack and the tree, Ranma gazed at him, swallowing down the extreme longing and loving concern that thrummed within his chest.
Ryoga dug through his pack and in short order had retrieved an armful of brightly wrapped - but a little worse for wear - packages which he handed to Ranma with the instructions that they be put under the tree. Ranma complied with all of the gifts, except for one which was marked with his own name. Eyes sparkling to rival any child’s on Christmas morning, the pig tailed martial artist turned the gift over in his hands repeatedly, then shook it, pouting when it didn’t make any noise.
"What’s this, Ryo-kun?" he asked eagerly, shooting a winsome smile up at Ryoga.
"You just wait," was the scolding reply, as the depths of the traveling pack were further explored.
Clutching the package like the handy excuse it was, Ranma crawled up onto the couch and mooshed himself to Ryoga’s side, rubbing head and body against him with rather catty guile. "C’mon . . . let me open it?" he purred, leaning up to nuzzle into the nomad’s neck.
Ryoga scrunched his shoulder up against his ear and leaned away, still trying to pull things out of his pack. His serious commanding voice was negated by bits of unintentional escaped laughter and the happy twinkle in his eyes. "No, Ranma. Stop it."
"Ryo-kuuuun! Kudasai kudasai kudasai!" Ranma leaned heavier on the other young man, gradually smooshing him sideways into the couch and forcing him to abandon his search through the pack. He insinuated himself over the top of Ryoga’s giggling body and his hands began a rather heated invasion into and under articles of clothing, finger’s seeking a warmth that was uniquely Lost Boy. The present rattled around between them as Ryoga squirmed in half-hearted playful protest, twisting himself so that he was laying on his back, head resting against the arm of the chair.
"Ranma! Ranma, matte yo!" he laughed yipingly, worming under the pig tailed martial artist’s assault, frenetically attempting to fend off the advances of his hands with ineffectual blocks and counters. He did manage to get his fingers around one of Ranma’s wrists and hold that wandering appendage at bay, but there was still the other to contend with, and Ranma knew all of Ryoga’s ticklish spots. "Ah! Iie, Ran-MAH! Ranmaaaa!"
Ranma’s laugh was a bit reminiscent of an evil triumphant cackle as he found his way under Ryoga’s shirt to encounter silken skin at last. He leaned up and splayed his fingers over the nomad’s right pectoral, clutching slightly, and the touch canceled out all of Ryoga’s struggles immediately. He drew in a soft gasping breath, only to find himself drowned by Ranma’s kissing mouth and invading tongue.
They broke a few minutes later, and Ranma gazed down at Ryoga, the thick fall of their bangs mingling together, breaths warm on each other’s faces. The flickering colors of the tree washed over Ryoga’s face and into his eyes, making him seem at once pale and gaily wrapped. They gazed at each other until Ranma felt overwhelmed by the sheer painful joy in his heart and closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against Ryoga’s, kissing the wolfish curve of his face.
"I can’t believe you’re finally here . . . " he ventured hesitantly, as if afraid to tread into a territory of his heart that had been firmly fenced off for nearly a year. Afraid that it would all turn out to be a terrible mistake and that when he woke from this dream, his world would be grey and dreary once more.
"I’m sorry, Ranma," Ryoga whispered, his breath ruffling the soft hair around Ranma’s ear gently, the tone saying so much more than the actual words ever could have. Of all the people in the world, Ranma was the absolute last that Ryoga would ever want to bring pain to now. Perhaps it had been different in their youth, but that was then and this was now. Now, their battles were waged with weapons of love and affection, and though no less bruising, were far more satisfying. Things had changed when Ranma and Akane stood together before their parents two years previously and declared their love for two other people of the wrong gender. Things had changed when Ryoga and Ukyo were shocked to discover that those two were indeed themselves.
Ranma tightened his embrace. "I know. It’s okay." As he had told Akane, he’d known what he was getting into when he fell in love with Ryoga. He’d been prepared for the long stretches of time that might pass between seeing the beautiful wanderer, the longing, the anxiety, and perhaps even the jealousy that he would feel when watching Akane and Ukyo together. At least, he’d thought he was prepared. The reality had been far worse than he’d expected, but the joy he felt upon seeing Ryoga waiting for him amidst holiday lights and in the warm glow of the fire almost made up for it. Such a holy sense of utter completeness was a rare thing that most people would never know, but Ranma felt it each time he laid eyes on his other. His Ryoga.
"Look . . . " Ryoga reached a hand over himself to retrieve something he’d spotted on the end table. With a shine in his gentle smile, he held up the Chinese dragon Christmas ornament which Akane had abandoned. The gold glitter sparkled twinklingly in the light from the fire as it turned on its hook, and both young men sighed softly in contentment as they regarded it dreamily.
"Our ornament," Ranma confirmed, folding his arms over Ryoga’s chest and resting his chin against the back of his hands. "You brought it back from China for us last year."
"Hai," the wandering martial artist nodded, lifting his other hand to cup the bottom of the glass ball, gazing starrily at it. "I forgot how pretty it was."
Ranma smiled, pulling in a long deep breath of the scent that was the Lost Boy, and the heavy spice that surrounded them both. "Did you bring another one?" he asked in a reminding tone. "You said you had something for the tree."
Ryoga looked adorably blank for a moment. "Huh?" he said intelligently, then he blinked rapidly as memory appeared to come back to him. He pecked Ranma’s cheek with a kiss and nudged him with his hips. "Let me up," he requested quietly. Ranma complied, sitting beside the wandering martial artist, and taking the dragon ornament so that Ryoga could resume exploration of his pack.
After a few moments, he finally found what he was looking for. "I know we already have one, but this was too beautiful to pass up," he said, removing a fairly flat square box from the depths of the pack, where it was carefully wrapped in several shirts to keep it safe. He handed it to Ranma, accepting the ornament back. "Here, open it." Leaving the pig tailed martial artist to that task, Ryoga stood up and moved to the tree, looking for the perfect spot to hang their dragon ornament.
Ranma slid the top of the box off and pawed gently through the tissue paper that he was confronted with, being remarkably careful on the likely chance that the contents were breakable. Beneath three layers of packing, he finally found what he had been assigned to look for, and as he lifted it from the box, Ranma’s heart pounded hard and healed itself, as if the year of loneliness had never occurred, for just this single object made everything complete. Everything perfect.
It was a star for the tree. A beautiful creation of delicate silver filigree that had been hand tooled into lovely Victorian-esque shapes, patterns and whorls. At the center of the design - a gold wrought sprig of mistletoe surrounded by gentle holly patterns. Aside from the well-hidden clip that would serve to attach it to the tree, there was also a small hole near the bottom, through which one of the colored bulbs of the Christmas lights could be slipped. The light would then shine through the design.
Ranma swallowed hard and looked up at Ryoga, holding the beautiful star to his chest as if it were a substitute for the nomad himself, one which could never be let go. Ryoga had found a spot for the dragon ornament and had moved to the storage boxes were the remaining decorations still waited, looking for something else to put on. The fire light and the twinkling glow of the tree battled silently for the privilege of highlighting his long lean body, a myriad of colors sliding over his dark hair and wind tanned skin, skittering over his earth-toned clothing. His eyes were as bright and happy as a child’s, telling all the world without a doubt that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Ranma was simply lost in the sight for a long moment, but as his hearing slowly tuned in, he became aware that Ryoga was softly singing along with the Christmas carols that were still playing and sliding as a perfect backdrop out of the speakers. The Lost Boy’s low tenor wrapped around the English words with his rich Japanese accent, adding syllables here and there, muffing up some of the sounds, but the effect was no less than beautiful, and the fast-running longing that Ranma felt for his other intensified as Ryoga turned back to the tree with a new ornament in hand and sang while he looked for a spot to put it.
"~I’ll be home for Christmas,~" he sang gently, the low purr of his voice blending well with the spices in the air. "~You can count on me.~ ~Please have snow, and mistletoe~ ~And presents on the tree . . . ~"
Ranma stood and moved to his side, still holding the star tightly. Ryoga paused in his song, though the music continued unabated, and smiled at Ranma. "Do you like it?" he asked, indicating the star.
"Hai, it’s beautiful," Ranma nodded, holding it away from himself so that he could look down at it again. "We couldn’t find the star for the tree this year, you know. Me an’ Akane looked everywhere for it. So this . . . " he paused for a moment, overwhelmed by the tight joy in his chest, by the now fading memories of how upset and hurt he’d felt when the star couldn’t be found, how it’s disappearance had seemed so prophetic and haunting. "This is perfect."
"Yosh!" Ryoga beamed and nudged him playfully. "Well, you’re the man of the family. It’s your job to put it on."
Ranma blinked and scowled with mock annoyance. "Wait a minute. We had this argument last year, didn’t we? Men’s duties fall to setting the tree up, stringing the lights and putting the star on. I already did the first two, so you have to do the third."
The wandering martial artist shook his head. "Iie. The star has to be put on by the head of the house. That’s you." He took a step back, returning to the boxes of decorations. "Don’t argue with me, Ranma. Just do it, or I’ll have to hurt you."
Ranma rolled his eyes. "Yes, Akane," he retorted teasingly, but nonetheless going to retrieve a chair that he could stand on, avoiding the plastic Santa Claus ornament that Ryoga threw at him. As he climbed up and jiggled the tree around in an attempt to secure the star to the top, Ryoga took up his singing again, catching the last bit of the song just as it was ending.
"~Christmas Eve will find me~ ~Where the love light gleams. . . ~
Ranma looked down to find the wandering martial artist gazing up at him, watching his efforts to secure the star with that same expression of contentedness and quiet joy that had visited him earlier, a miscellaneous ornament held in his strong slender fingers, an essential part of the very feeling of Christmas in the room. Ranma once again knew the absolute completeness and tight longing that came from just knowing Ryoga was here, where he belonged, with him.
"~I’ll be home for Christmas,~" Ryoga purred up at him. "~If only in my dreams.~"
That was the last that Ranma could take. Star placed, he hopped down from the chair and wrapped himself bodily around Ryoga, attacking him with a desperate kisses that pelted all around his mouth, pulling downwards at the same time so that the other would be forced to follow him to the soft rug that lay in front of the fireplace. Ryoga made a surprised sound, but apparently wasn’t too interested in resisting, offering only token protest as he was pushed onto his back.
"Ranma . . . " he whispered, tipping his head upwards to better accommodate the pig tailed man’s traveling kisses and nibbles. "Nmm . . . Ranma, the tree isn’t finished."
It was as far as Ranma was concerned. He pushed Ryoga’s shirt up, seeking the warmth of his belly as the firelight splashed over it, highlighting dramatically the lean strong lines of the wanderer’s muscles. His mouth had to be one with that silken flesh, and his hands had to know the sensation of those muscles quivering with happy arousal beneath them. Ryoga shifted, only to make himself more comfortable, the ornament he had been holding rolling out of his hand and off the rug, making a slight noise as it retreated across the wooden floor. His back arched, bringing his abdomen closer to Ranma, and he lifted his hands to bury his fingers into the fire warmed depths of his other’s ink black hair.
"Ranma . . ." Ryoga moaned softly, overcome by the soft feel of Ranma’s mouth and tongue as it explored him all over again, as if the territory of his flesh was new and virgin. He felt the corresponding heat that rose within himself, flickering through his body just as the glow of the fire flickered over it, centering itself in his lower regions which Ranma was pressing against so enticingly. He felt his hips move of their own accord, eager to experience what they had been missing for so long. "Ranma . . . "
"Shhh," Ranma responded, not willing to break his rhythm of kisses. His own body demanding satisfaction even at this early stage of the dance, he found himself tightening with control and anticipation, as his hands slid into the inviting heat encased within Ryoga’s pants, fingers searching through fabric until they found what he wanted. He gripped the Lost Boy in what was near desperation, prompting a groan of need and desire from deep within his other’s chest. Flesh hardened beneath his touch, and he felt his own tightening synchronously. This first would be fast, Ranma knew, to satisfy them both. After that, they would have all night to go slowly and lovingly, but for right now . . . they wanted only the joining, only the satisfaction of being together.
Being so wrapped up in what soon became a heated moving battle of passion and want, neither young man heard the creak of the kitchen door opening slightly so that a single storm blue eye could peek out into the softly lit livingroom. Ukyo pulled back almost immediately, letting the door swing back into place, and turned to Akane, who was pressed in close behind her.
"I think," the chef began with a warm fond smile, eyes twinkling. "I think we’ll just hold off on dinner for the time being."
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Epilogue:
The snow had stopped falling by morning, and the early Christmas sun glinted off fields and hills of sparkling white, catching each crystalline tree on the mountain in the same way that light catches a prism. Everything seemed to glow, from the icicles hanging on the eaves of the resort cabin, to the layer of frost which covered Ranma’s vehicle. All was an undisturbed layer of angelic pureness.
Within the cabin, Akane trailed down the stairs, dressed in a warm sweater of holiday colors and a wool skirt, smiling at the bright morning just outside the window, and the presence of the two young men who were waiting on the couch closest to the tree. From within the kitchen, the sounds of Ukyo already hard at work on breakfast seemed only to punctuate the perfection of the early hours, generating a sense of warmth and home. The tree had been finished late in the night, after certain martial artists retreated to the privacy of Ranma’s room, and stood now twinkling, hanging tinsel swaying gently in the currents that her movements through the room caused. The light shining through the filigree star cast intriguing patterns on the slatted ceiling of the cabin.
She took note of Ryoga’s pack, which had been returned to its place by the door, ready for the inevitable moment when he would walk out and find himself someplace else. It had been joined by another sometime in the night, one that was equally as stuffed and prepared for any eventuality, one that she recognized as Ranma’s. Rounding the bottom of the stairs, Akane stepped into the livingroom and regarded the young man questioningly.
He was sitting on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, while his other hand trailed fingers gently through Ryoga’s hair. The wanderer lay stretched out with his head resting in Ranma’s lap, looking young, vulnerable and very tired as he napped there close to the warmth of his lover’s body. Both were dressed in warm clothes appropriate to the season and day, and were serving as a dance floor for the flickering of newly re-lit candles, which filled the room with delicious aroma once more, this time with a lighter carnation scent more suited to the bright morning.
The pig tailed martial artist returned Akane’s look with a contented smile, appearing far happier than she could remember him being for a long time. Even the aura of melancholy was gone, replaced instead with the pleasure of having Ryoga at his side once again. And she understood immediately the reason for the second pack. He was not about to let Ryoga disappear alone again.
"I gave Ukyo the keys to the truck," he said quietly by way of explanation, setting his drink aside and forsaking the combing of Ryoga’s hair in favor of resting his arm around the nomad’s shoulder.
Akane only nodded, sitting on the other couch, resting her hands in her lap as she watched them. Ryoga stirred a bit at Ranma’s movement, but otherwise stayed asleep, exhausted and content from the night’s activities. Together, the two young men were the perfect picture of love and Christmas, both bathed on one side by the lights of the tree, and on the other by the sunlight streaming in from outside. Ranma’s eyes were dark and heavy with abandon, with the heady feeling of giving up everything - his truck, his home, two years of college - for the soul he cradled now in his arms. The decision had been a remarkably simple one to make, when all was said and done.
"Akane," he called softly, the tones of his voice completely void of the sadness that had been his blanket the evening before, when the star was missing and the night seemed slow and empty.
She looked at him. "Yes, Ranma?"
"No regrets."
The words did not surprise her. They were as simple and straightforward as the scent of carnations and the winking of the tree. Akane smiled warmly, knowing that Ranma spoke from his heart, and that his casual words were a perfect reflection of the rolling emotional river that flowed within him. The river that only Ryoga could cross. Any concern or worry that she might have still harbored over Ranma’s welfare vanished instantly when held to the light of this Christmas morning, to the quiet happiness that seemed to lift as one spirit from the two young men, and to the glimmering shine of the star at the top of the tree.
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