It's in His Kiss - Part Seven

Adult Warning for this Part

For all of his self-proclaimed bravado, confidence and much acclaimed fearlessness, Ranma couldn’t find the guts to approach Akane about his decision until the next afternoon. Aside from the fact that she was still in a foul mood over his actions the day before, and he knew better than to cross her when she was like that, the young man was simply finding it difficult to summon up the gumption to go through with his monumental revelation.

He brooded around the house all morning, wondering about his hesitancy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Akane, because he knew that he did, or . . . he thought he did. He was simply feeling rather unsettled about the entire affair and the events of the day before. He tried to chalk it up to eating too much right before bedtime, but truthfully knew that wasn’t it. It may have been anticipation over the multiple poundings he was sure to receive from the many people he’d carelessly kissed, but he was fairly used to abuse and knew that this time he deserved whatever they wanted to dish out. No, there was something else bothering him. A feeling that he had left something undone or unsaid.

But whatever that something was, he couldn’t say. Grumbling to himself on the roof of the dojo, Ranma wished that Ryoga had stuck around. The Lost Boy was always a good sounding board, and Ranma would have liked to talk to someone about this strange feeling. Ranma simply wasn’t the type to hesitate about anything, so it was really bothering him that he was doing so now.

Trying to shrug it off, Ranma finally gathered his nerve and cornered Akane in her room, as she was putting away some laundry that Kasumi had done for her. The young man knocked on the edge of her doorway, leaning casually against the jamb. "Hey, Akane?"

She barely looked up at him as she folded one of her sweaters neatly into its proper drawer. "What do you want, Ranma?"

"I want to talk to you about something," he took her tersely delivered words as an invitation and stepped in, sliding the door shut behind him. "It’s kinda important."

"If it’s about yesterday, I’m not interested in hearing it," she informed him firmly.

"Well, it is sort of about yesterday," he admitted, slinking in to sit on the corner of her futon. He watched her as she went to the closet to hang up a dress, admiring the easy way she moved. Akane wasn’t exactly slender, but she made up for her baby fat with a certain grace that came from long hours of practicing the Art. It wasn’t quite the cat-like grace that he found attractive in Shampoo or Ryoga’s predatory grace, but. . . uh . . . Ryoga? Er . . . well, it wasn’t Ryoga, but it was appealing nonetheless. Sort of. Kind of . . . in a not-quite-perfect way.

Ranma frowned at himself and shook his head to clear it.

Akane turned and looked at him expectantly, crossing her arms. "Well, what is it?" she demanded. "And if it’s not important, you’re going through the roof again."

That prospect produced a wince from Ranma. Attempting to steel himself for what he wanted to say, he looked up at her speculatively. Okay, so she was kinda cute, especially when she was angry as she was. Her scowl was very attractive, and the way her soft brown eyes flashed with heat and snapped when she spoke was familiar and appealing. He liked the way her thick bangs fell across her brow, shadowing her eyes and making her seem even darker than she was. The way she was standing, poised as if ready to strike, arms folded in front of herself like a barrier against being hurt, was also appealing, as it just further illustrated those conflicting qualities that he had targeted as the reasons for his attraction to her. She was hard and fearsome, but fragile and breakable at the same time.

Ranma stood and stepped close, taking her hands as he had the day before and gazing down at her. As he had then, he again saw the uncertainty and softening in her eyes.

"Akane, I just want to tell you . . . " he began and then trailed off, staring at her for a long moment, analyzing the feel of her hands in his. They were soft and small. Too soft. Too small.

Huh? What was that? Okay sure, she wasn’t -entirely- perfect, but who was? Why was he hesitating?! Why couldn’t he just come out and tell her that he was pleased to be her iinazuke, that he thought he could really grow to love her, that she wasn’t just some violent uncute tomboy to him? Why was that nagging feeling of having left something unfinished growing ever stronger?

"Yes?" Akane raised an eyebrow, now looking more intrigued than annoyed.

"I want . . . I want to say . . . " Ranma began again and stopped once more. The words were on his tongue! Why weren’t they coming out? Every nerve was screaming "No!" at him, every beat of his heart was pounding in his head, trying to remind him of something . . . of what?! What was it? What?!

"Ranma?" the girl seemed to be quickly losing patience. The softness in her eyes was fading, and she was frowning at him heavily. "Will you get on with it?"

Ranma fidgeted. Why was this so hard?! Why did it seem . . . wrong? Wrong? But how could it be wrong? She had all of the qualities that he was attracted to, so what was the problem? Why couldn’t he bring himself to say what he wanted to, and why wouldn’t that nagging inner voice fricken shut up already?!

Ranma closed his eyes briefly, seeking understanding and trying to analyze the picture of Akane that he held in his mind. But in the after-image that appeared behind his eyelids he didn’t see Akane . . . huh? . . . an unexpected image came unbidden to his mind in her place, a different but similar set of deep brown eyes . . . a different tousle of dark hair . . . a different strength and vulnerability . . . and . . .

And sadness.

The disappointed feel of his aura as he left the house deep in the night, going out to get lost once again . . .

Ryoga?! Wha - - ?

"Hello?" Akane asked in a tone meant to remind him that she was still there.

He blinked his eyes open and looked down at her. Yes. Yes! He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen it before! Was he really so blind? Was he really so completely caught up in his own interests that he hadn’t noticed what was right in front of him?

He hadn’t kissed Ryoga yet!!!

He was startled at how swift the realization was, and how immediate the gratification. As soon as the thought of Ryoga entered his mind, a strange foreign sense of peace and joy filtered into his heart. Ranma had never felt anything like it before in his life. The heat that Shampoo had generated, the challenge of untouchable Akane, the thrill of all the other kisses . . . none of it compared to what he was feeling now.

He didn’t have to kiss Ryoga, he already knew! The Lost Boy was it! He was -the- one! Of course, that knowing certainly wasn’t going to stop him from trying to kiss Ryoga. You know . . . just to be sure.

"Akane," Ranma breathed, a smile lighting up his face the likes of which she had never seen. His distracted attention snapped to her once more, even as he was removing his hands from hers. "I’m sorry," he told her, in a sincere and believable tone. "I apologize for teasing you, for making fun of your cooking, and for trying to take advantage of you yesterday."

Had she not been so surprised, Akane might have asked who he was and what he had done with the real Ranma. Instead she just blinked and nodded faintly. "All right, Ranma," she said haltingly. "I forgive you."

"Thanks! Excuse me!" A great silly grin on his face, Ranma turned and jerked her bedroom door open, fairly flinging himself out into the hallway. Startled, Akane went to the door and listened as he thundered down the stairs. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut behind him, shaking the entire house.

"Honestly," Akane frowned to herself. "I wonder what in the world that was all about?"

After putting away the rest of her clothes, the dark haired girl decided to go down and see what was on television. As she made her way down the stairs, however, the front bell rang and she heard Kasumi go to answer it. Akane reached the livingroom and was about to turn on the TV, when Kasumi interrupted her, poking her head into the room.

"Akane-chan? Some of your friends are here to see you," Kasumi smiled vacantly.

"Friends? I wasn’t expecting anyone." Akane stepped out into the front hall to find the absolute last three people she would classify as friends waiting for her expectantly.

"Nihao, Violent Mallet Girl!" Shampoo greeted, the usual sparkle of elegant haughtiness in her vivid amethyst eyes.

"Akane Tendo," Kodachi nodded politely, while eying her in a refined but vicious manner, twirling her deadly ribbon absently.

"Hey there, Akane," Ukyo managed a slight smile, standing with arms crossed and armed to the nines with what looked to be every spatula in Nerima.

"Shampoo? Kodachi? Ukyo?" Akane blinked and mentally readied herself for trouble. These three in the same place at the same time was never a good thing, and Akane was already fixing the blame firmly on a certain pig tailed egomaniac. "What are you doing here?"

"Well sugar, we’ve all been comparing notes," Ukyo began, her tone deadly serious. "And we’d like to get your thoughts on Ranma’s behavior yesterday."

***************************************

Ranma had no problem getting into the Hibiki’s locked and darkened home, having sniffed out where the extra key was kept hidden years ago. It was a little trickier getting past the first line of defenses devised by Ryoga’s mother as bugler-discouraging tactics, but still, the swinging concrete blocks that whistled through the air like pendulums, aimed for his head, were easy enough to avoid.

As they crashed and splintered against the front door, Ranma stepped into the entry hall of the house, taking note of the dust that had settled on everything, and the quiet darkness that seemed to envelope the entire residence. He’d hoped that, by some cosmic chance of fate, Ryoga might have made it home after all, but it looked as if he were mistaken. With a heavy sigh, Ranma reflected that the Lost Boy could be half way to anywhere by now. That was certainly a downer. He’d really been looking forward to getting his kiss.

He made his way into the silent livingroom, skillfully ducking a net-full of pots and pans that tried to rain down on him as he walked beneath it. Wincing lightly at the clamor, the pig tailed boy continued into the hall leading towards the stairs, fully expecting the barrage of knives that pelted into the wall in his wake. It seemed that Ryoga’s mom was getting ever more aggressive with her home protection techniques.

He bounced up the stairs, thinking that perhaps Ryoga was in his room and, being the heavy sleeper that he was, hadn’t heard him arrive. Though how anyone could sleep through the bedlam that ensued when a bag of cow bells dropped out of the linen closet at him, was quite a mystery. Ranma easily side-stepped the bells, confident that the traps set by the matriarchal member of the Hibiki family were coming in singles, only to be hit by another one that had been devised specifically to be triggered when he was avoiding the first.

"Yiiiiiieerrrr . . . " Ranma started out yelping in surprise and ended up groaning on the floor beneath the weight of a heavy stone statue, depicting some very large fat benevolent deity, or something.

His eyes little Dreamcast whirls, Ranma looked up dizzily to see the door to Ryoga’s bedroom open. Actually, he saw about six doors, and they were all sort of spinning around each other, but he somehow managed to grasp the implications of this event. From his viewpoint level with the floor of the hallway, Ranma perceived several sets of legs walking towards him, all familiarly wrapped with leather laces. He managed a rather lopsided smile, accompanied by a "Heeee!" sound before he was able to produce an almost coherent sentence.

"Hey . . . hey there, Ryoga . . !"

The Lost Boy easily lifted the statue from Ranma’s squashed body and set it aside as if it were made of nothing more substantial than Styrofoam. He then crouched to peer down at Ranma, looking tired and bleary, apparently having just woken up even though it was late afternoon.

"Ranma, what the hell are you doing here?"

He didn’t sound very happy to see the pig tailed boy, who considered taking offense at the tone, but resisted the urge. He sat up instead, rubbing ruefully at a rather large bump which now adorned his head. "Tell yer mom she hasn’t lost her touch."

"What are you doing here, Ranma?" Ryoga repeated tersely, obviously not interested in making small talk of any sort concerning his mother’s home protection. His brown eyes were dark with a shimmering ire, though the set of his mouth was more reflective of a pensive pout.

Ranma stared at him for a moment. Yep! That was it! That was the unique combination of strong and vulnerable that he was looking for. Gazing rather vacantly at the Lost Boy for several long blissful moments, Ranma considered those eyes, that face, the dark ink spill of hair. The rumpled clothing that had obviously been slept in for a couple of hours at least. Geeze, Ryoga was cute! Way cuter than Akane, who always had to look perfect. Ranma loved this lost and unkept appearance that Ryoga had mastered. How could he have been so stupid and so blind as to not have seen this? And how could he go about pulling off this final and most important of kisses without Ryoga clobbering him?

"Ranma!" Ryoga snapped, yanking his attention back to reality.

"Oh yeah, heh heh heh!" Ranma laughed nervously before dropping dead into a serious expression. He got to his feet. "Look Ryoga . . . I need to talk to you a minute."

"About what?" the bandanna’d boy questioned suspiciously, crossing his arms in front of himself and turning away slightly.

"About yesterday. About my decision."

"Oh yeah," Ryoga looked elsewhere, apparently quite interested in a picture of rather tacky scenery hanging on the wall. "How’d Akane take it? Did she hit you with Mallet-sama, or just her fist?" His tone was bitingly caustic.

Ranma fell to staring again, a bit derailed. Why was Ryoga acting so hostile? Was he just pissed about being dragged all over town the day before, or was there something more to this? The events of the Quest for the Perfect Kiss flickered through Ranma’s mind falteringly. Blushes and nervous shredding of napkins and tablecloths, looks of shock, expressions of dismay, the Lost Boy’s alternately angry or subdued behavior after each kiss . . . his disappointment as he left the house in the middle of the night . . . it suddenly all clicked in Ranma’s head!

Did Ryoga feel the same way? Was he . . . was he jealous?

A slow sly smile spread over Ranma’s face, like a fox slinking through tall grass. Well, of course Ryoga was jealous! Who wouldn’t be? After all, he -was- Ranma Saotome! But regardless, this was perfect! It was great! The thought that he had been the inspiration for such feelings of angst made the pig tailed boy feel all gooshy and wiggly inside, and it certainly helped to inflate his ego considerably. With a barely suppressed devious chuckle, Ranma stepped forward, grabbed Ryoga by his rather rumpled shirt and spun him around.

"Hey!" the Lost Boy protested, jerking away as a pale pink blush spread over the bridge of his cute little nose, confirming Ranma’s guess. "Let go! What are you doing?"

Ranma grinned and transferred his hold to the front of the boy’s shirt. "Its your turn, P-Chan," he began, tugging just slightly to entice Ryoga to move closer. "And I’ve definitely been looking forward to this one."

The nomadic young man paled at these words, turning the very definition of white, as dangling memories of his mushroom hallucination flitted in and out of his head, like an enticing carrot held in front of a stubborn mule. He drew back against Ranma’s pull, eyes large and wide, any trace of anger evaporating in favor of severe shock. "Wh - wh - wh - " he wheezed.

Ranma laughed. "Come on, Ryo-kun! This is what you wanted, ain’t it? What you were hoping for? Listen," he firmly yanked Ryoga closer, playing tug-o-war with the young man’s shirt. "I’m sorry that I overlooked you yesterday, okay? I guess . . . "

The pig tailed boy paused for a moment, his smile fading and his dark blue eyes growing soft and serious. "I guess that I just couldn’t see what was right in front of me."

Ryoga’s eyes made a piku-piku sound as he blinked. After a long moment of stark terror, he slowly reached up and untangled Ranma’s hand from his shirt, managing a nervous and insincere laugh.

"Y - yeah right, Ranma. Whatever . . . I just . . . just . . . I gotta . . . you . . . I’m gonna . . . " Backing up and casting quick glances for a ready hiding spot, Ryoga rubbed the back of his neck frantically.

"Ryoga, relax," Ranma smirked, reaching for him again. The Lost Boy evaded him in what would have been a skillful manner under normal circumstances, had he not backed up and tripped over the bag of cow bells. There was quite a clamor as he fell all over himself in an attempt not to lose his balance, failing spectacularly. He landed on his rear in the hallway, gazing up at Ranma with wide startled eyes and a rather sizable sweatdrop.

Ranma offered him a hand up. "This -is- what you want, right?" he asked, hoping that he hadn’t somehow misread the situation, though it was perfectly obvious that he hadn’t. The rosy warm blush that spread over Ryoga’s face and disappeared below the collar of his shirt pretty much told the whole story. Ah, the Lost Boy was so wonderfully transparent!

"Ah y - yessss . . . I mean, no! I mean . . . ah . . . huhn . . . eerrr . . . " Ryoga babbled senselessly, punching unconscious holes into the floor. After a moment of vacillation, he slowly got to his feet, stared at Ranma for a few heartbeats, then took off like a startled rabbit, darting down the hallway. Ranma barely had time to draw a breath in preparation to call after him, when the Lost Boy slid open a door near the end of the hall and disappeared through it, violently closing it up behind him.

This time it was Ranma who blinked, then smiled. He casually made his way over to the closed door and leaned jauntily against the wall beside it. Rapping lightly on the frame, his eyes twinkled in merriment. "Ryoga, c’mon buddy."

There was slight rustling noise from within.

His smile widening, Ranma knocked again. "Oh Ryoooogaaa!" he sing-songed. "Come out of the closet!" Unable to control his snickers, Ranma put his hands over his mouth and succeeded very poorly in muffling himself.

"This isn’t funny, Ranma," came a small scornful-sounding comment.

"Sure it is!" the pig tailed boy replied gleefully. "All right then. If you won’t come out, then I’ll come in." He slid open the door and found Ryoga hiding behind years worth of out-grown or worn family winter coats, brown eyes peeking from between the folds of heavy material. Ranma pushed his way in, shutting the door and sliding aside several garments until he had effectively trapped the Lost Boy against the back wall of the closet. There was very little available space, so Ranma had to press in close, much to his delight and Ryoga’s near-heart attack.

Ranma placed his hands on the back wall, on either side of Ryoga’s head and leaned in, settling his weight on the bandanna’d boy’s chest. Giving him a moment to get his hyperventilating under control, Ranma smiled, blue eyes in full twinkle.

"This is cozy," Ranma commented as their combined body heat quickly filled up the small area. He didn’t have to move far to get his lips close to Ryoga’s, noticing as he did the gentle slightly-roguish curl to the Lost Boy’s upper one, evident even with his mouth hanging open. Very attractive in a much-younger Harrison Ford kind of way. Letting a mild purr escape the back of his throat, Ranma moved in and as carefully as if he were kissing a fragile piece of glass sculpture, made the connection between himself and Ryoga.

Warm. Ryoga was very warm, and his lips were soft, yielding. Vulnerable in that perfect way that Ranma found so stimulating. He felt the Lost Boy trembling under his mouth, thought that was delightful and pressed in a little tighter, forcing Ryoga firmly against the back wall of the closet. The young man made a small gasping noise as Ranma carefully nudged him, both hands moving to grasp the side of Ryoga’s face. He maneuvered his tongue into his partner’s unresisting mouth and explored with the sense of touch, a shivering surge moving up his spine as he encountered the sharp tips of Ryoga’s fangs.

He was kissing Ryoga! And damn! It felt wonderful!! There were twin splintering noises as Ryoga dug his fingers into the wood of the wall behind him, liquid brown eyes closing in surrender as he somehow came to grips with the fact that Ranma had him in a tight lip lock. Ranma increased the pressure, looming in even closer, and was rewarded as Ryoga’s mouth hesitantly firmed and the Lost Boy began to return the kiss. That was even better! Better than Shampoo, better than Kodachi, better than ANYTHING! That wonderful uncertain reciprocation sent an uncomfortably warm shiver down Ranma’s body which settled in his nether regions and started to throb insistently at him. In retaliation, Ranma attacked Ryoga’s mouth with increased intensity.

The Lost Boy moaned a soft sound of surprise, and his hands fluttered upwards rather helplessly, fingers seeking the material of Ranma’s shirt. He was feeling incredibly dizzy, not only from shock, but from the sudden and unexpected stimulation of his long-dormant pleasure center. He dug into the pig tailed boy’s clothing, trying to hold onto something substantial, trying to ground himself. This had to be another hallucination! It had to be! What other explanation could there be? Heat and desire like this had no basis in reality. At least not in any of Ryoga’s realities. Oh Kami-sama . . . he was certain that if this kiss lasted much longer, he would self-destruct somehow, yet he didn’t want it to end. Oh please, please don’t let it end.

Needing to catch his breath, Ranma pulled out of the kiss, but only slightly. He now had most of his weight pressed into Ryoga, grinding the boy firmly against the back wall of the closet, and he could feel the heat from both their bodies rising in a little whirling tornado. A soft smile brushed over his lips as Ryoga’s eyes opened and the boy exchanged his gaze for a rather dumbfounded and bewildered one of his own.

Ranma drew in a long breath and released it with a throaty whisper of, "Oh yeah . . . that’s where it is . . . "

A violent tremble wracked Ryoga’s body and he tipped his head backwards. " . . . hyyiiii . . . " he wheezed and promptly swooned. The tight press of Ranma’s body was the only thing that kept him in an upright position.

The pig tailed martial artist slipped his hands under Ryoga’s arms and supported him with a fond smile and a vainglorious sparkle in his eyes. Knowing that he could cause the Lost Boy to pass out simply by planting a kiss on him was certainly a stroke to his ego. Ah, the power he wielded! Chuckling, Ranma backed up, slid open the door and exited the closet, dragging Ryoga with him. Hefting the addled boy into his arms, Ranma carried him the short distance up the hall to his room.

Ryoga’s personal inner sanctum was undeniably an outward expression of his conflicting personality. The futon was rumpled and un-made, clothing and personal articles were laying about all over the floor in a haphazard and careless manner, and there was a general disorder to the room, which looked like it wasn’t straightened up very often. Granted, Ryoga wasn’t home more than a few weeks out of the year, which left little time for cleaning. But it appeared that even Ryoga’s mother wasn’t willing to venture into the mess, though the rest of the house was tidy, though dusty.

But despite the disorder, there were a few surprises as well. Movie posters, extensive video and CD collections, two shelves filled with books ranging from old textbooks to poetry tomes, old toys and yellowing works of childish art, souvenirs from all over the world. Ranma was a little amused to find a few worn stuffed animals amidst the ruffled bed clothes as he laid Ryoga out on the low futon mattress. Ranma returned to slide the door shut, then after a moment’s consideration, he also made sure it was locked. One could never be sure when members of Ryoga’s nomadic family might show up unexpectedly.

Picking his way around clothing and various manga books, Ranma returned to the bed and knelt beside Ryoga, smiling as he smoothed back the Lost Boy’s unruly hair. "Hey," he said quietly when the young man stirred restlessly. "Way to break the moment, there, P-chan."

Ryoga’s eyes opened blearily and he blinked several times at Ranma, as if doing so would either fix the boy permanently or make him go away. A fierce blush rose to the surface of his skin, and his fingers immediately located the sheet beneath him as appropriate nervous fiddling material. "D - did we . . . ? Was that . . . ? Did wh - what I think just happened . . . actually h - happen?"

"Yeah," Ranma grinned. "Nice, wasn’t it?"

Ryoga looked as if he were threatening to pass out again, but managed to maintain his senses. "Hhhhnnn . . . " he replied, nodding rather dumbly.

Ranma was pleased. He leaned down and pressed his hand against Ryoga’s chest, which had the same effect as a hot iron, causing the boy to jump involuntarily. Ranma injected as much twinkle into his eyes as he was consciously capable of. "Wanna do it again?" he asked.

He was answered with another shaky nod, as apparently the Lost Boy had gone beyond the capacity for coherent speech. That was just fine with Ranma. He wasn’t particularly interested in talking anyway. With a grin that was half-way to maniacal, Ranma climbed on top of Ryoga’s body and proceeded to attack him with another kiss.

*******************************************

Six hours later, the two boys found themselves wedged under the table in the dining room, tangled together in a pleasant knot of flesh and limbs. Ryoga was panting heavily, on the verge of passing out for the uncountable time that afternoon, as Ranma worked diligently on his erection with mouth and hands that had become supremely skilled over the course of their frenzied marathon through the house. Ryoga had vague recollections of his own room, his parent’s room, the hall closet (again), the cupboards under the kitchen sink, and his father’s wine cellar, among other locations.

He was almost to his limit, but somehow Ranma was able to coax one more out of him, before gathering him up into his arms and showering tired kisses on his flushed and sweaty face. Both boys were sticky, dusty and exhausted, but neither had ever been happier.

"Man, I’m an idiot," Ranma nipped Ryoga’s left nipple lightly, pleased to produce a groan from the worn-out nomad. "If you had just said something to begin with, we could have spent yesterday doing this too."

"Before yesterday, I wouldn’t have even considered this . . . " Ryoga admitted, letting his head fall against the floor with a tired thump.

"This certainly lends new meaning to the term ‘sparring partner’, don’t it?" Ranma grinned, lounging beside his lover with his head propped up in one hand, while he used the other to trace down the contours of Ryoga’s body. "Hope your parents don’t get home any time soon. I’d like to clean up that mess in the pantry before your mom sees it."

"I don’t think I’d be able to explain what happened to her box of Shake’n Bake," Ryoga agreed. "At least, not without running the risk of being disowned."

Ranma grinned wildly, as he reluctantly sat up, flipping the dining table over to accommodate himself. "Let’s go hit the bath, then we can clean up and scrounge for something to eat. I’m starving!"

"-Hot- water this time, got it, Ranma?" Ryoga said threateningly as he too sat up and flicked a few renegade cheese puffs off of himself. Hmmm, he could have sworn that they’d eaten all of those.

Ranma plastered an innocent look on his face. "But . . . but I thought you enjoyed our romp in the cold shower?"

"That was indecent," Ryoga shot him a glance that was heavily laced with disgust, but tempered by the playful twinkle in his eyes. "Especially since I had no choice in the matter. Aren’t there laws against the exploitation of animals?"

"Yeah, I’d like to see you walk into the nearest Humane Society and try to explain that one," Ranma challenged, getting to his feet and offering the other boy a hand up. He smiled at the sight of the strong firm body that he was now intimately familiar with. A new warm flush whispered through his body, despite how hungry and tired he already was. Damn! Ranma mentally kicked himself for having missed out on the Lost Boy all these years. Ryoga’s father had been right. As far as Ranma was concerned, the entire world was lit up and he had been on fire all afternoon.

The Lost Boy turned, with every intention of heading for a desperately needed bath, but Ranma stopped him, yanking him back by the arm.

"Ranma, wha - ?" Ryoga caught himself against the pig tailed boy’s chest as he was spun.

Their eyes met in what had become their unspoken signal, blue ones twinkling in readiness and brown ones widening with acceptance and surrender. Ryoga did let out a tired groan as Ranma kissed him, however, feeling shaky in every joint. Ranma went with that, lowering them both back to the floor and straddling Ryoga’s lap.

"Ran . . . Ran . . . ma . . . Ranma . . . " Ryoga managed between kisses, yipping softly as the pig tailed boy snaked his hand between them and grasped him, now possessive over what he considered to be his property. "Ranma . . . I don’t think . . . don’t think I can . . . I’m tired . . . I can’t . . . "

"Sure, you can," Ranma told him, his hand squeezing firmly, causing Ryoga to squirm and turn red once again in response. His head began to swim again, and he had to wonder how he was able to remember anything that had taken place that afternoon, after having passed out so many times.

"No . . . no . . . I can’t . . . " Ryoga continued to protest, even as his tired body proved him wrong by coming to new life in Ranma’s hands.

"Liar," Ranma breathed, leaning in to kiss him again.

***************************************

"Okay," Ranma mused, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of Ryoga’s pants that he’d thrown on that morning. "How’s this sound? ‘Hey Pop! Sorry I didn’t get around to calling you last night, but you’ll be happy to know that I’ve become a man’s man at last!’"

Walking beside him, Ryoga rolled his eyes. "I thought I was suppose to be the one with the death wish."

"You’re not being much help!" Ranma exclaimed, drawing the attention many of the early morning shoppers already out and about on the streets of Nerima. As usual, everyone gave the two boys wide berth. "C’mon Ryoga, this is your problem too. How am I suppose to break this to my father, huh?"

"Shouldn’t you have thought about that before you ran around kissing everyone?" Ryoga replied a bit tensely, feeling mildly insulted. "You could have just married Akane, you know."

Ranma sighed, now connected enough with Ryoga to be able to recognize when he’d hurt the Lost Boy. "Look, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m not ashamed of this, Ryoga. Its just that Pop is gonna blow a gasket when he finds out about us, and I’d like to soften the blow as much as I can, for our sake. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen him really angry, and we’ll have the added problem of Tendo-san and Akane. Trust me on this, buddy, it will be horror beyond your worst Trakal-induced nightmares."

Ryoga winced, shivering deep down to his very core, then was quiet for a long moment as they walked, each reluctant step bringing them ever closer to their destiny at the Tendo Dojo. Finally, he looked up at Ranma with a soft gentle sparkle in his dark eyes. "My folks have a vacation house in the Azores," he began. "You could phone you father from there."

"Now, that idea has merit . . . " Ranma considered thoughtfully. "Is it an unlisted phone number?"

He looked up when the other young man didn’t answer, and paused to glance back. Ryoga had stopped in his tracks and was gazing up the street ahead of them, his eyes narrowed and the beginnings of worried panic flickering through his expression. Ranma frowned. "Ryoga?"

"Uhm, Ranma?" The Lost Boy pointed. "What’s that?"

Ranma turned to look up the street in the direction of Ryoga’s gesture. At first he couldn’t really make out what he was seeing, and squinted in an attempt to focus better.

It appeared to be a large cloud of dust, rolling and rollicking down the road, heading straight for them. Ranma became aware of a low rumbling sound and a vibration in the pavement beneath his feet. All around them, pedestrians looked up in alarm and local shop keepers wisely decided to close up until the whatever-it-was passed. They’d had plenty of experience in these sorts of happenings, and now considered them just one of the hazards of doing business in Nerima.

As the dust cloud drew closer, the two young men both crouched slightly into more defensive stances, hands coming up at the ready. A dark writhing shape, the cause of the cloud, became visible. On-lookers began to run, but the martial artists held their ground. Whatever the threat, be it monsters, magic or other adversaries, they were ready and willing to meet it.

To a point. Within seconds, the dark shape coalesced into individual forms and the shaking in the ground became ever more intense. Ryoga was the first to falter, as his eyesight was better than Ranma’s and he was able to pick out the multiple causes of the disturbance far sooner than his companion.

He took a hesitant step backwards. "Uhhh . . . Ranma . . . "

"Stand your ground, Ryoga!" Ranma ordered, a look of fierce determination on his face. Nothing threatened his town and got away with it.

"Ranma . . . I think you’re gonna want to run in this case," Ryoga insisted, taking several more steps back. "Run, and run fast!"

"Huh?" annoyance crossed his face and froze as the first sound reached his ears. It was shrill and strident, and it seemed to be calling his name. Curiously enough, it almost sounded like . . . like . . . Akane? Shampoo? Ukyo?

Oh Kami-sama! Now Ranma could make out exactly what was coming at him. Beneath the rolling cloud, just about every person he knew was running in a tight close group, most brandishing weapons, all of them yelling something typically threatening. The young man felt all the blood drain from his face as fear, stark real terror, slammed into him like a storm front. Even though he remained standing, he felt as if he’d been knocked flat.

The girls were in front. Pretty clothing ruffling in the wake of speed, each was yelling various threats and curses according to their individual natures and mannerisms. Mallets, bonbori and gymnast ribbons all flashed in the light of the morning sun as they were flourished. Rapid fire spatulas tore into the concrete all around his feet, inspiring him to dance in order to avoid being skewered.

"Ranma no hentai!!"

"Ranma-honey! Hold still so I can kill you!"

"Ranma-darling! Your Kodachi wants to have some ‘words’ with you!"

"Ranma! Korosu!"

A whizzing sound cutting through the air alerted Ranma to his next problem, a series of ornately bladed chains which tore from within the sleeves of a very angry-looking Mousse and headed toward him with deadly precision. Dodging and ducking, Ranma somehow managed to avoid all of them. Landing beside Ryoga, he looked up and saw that Kuno and Mikado were also in the thundering group, the Blue Thunder with a blade that looked very un-like a practice bokken, and Emperor Sanzenin on roller blades.

"Damn you, Ranma!! How dare you kiss me?!"

"Saotome, you foul Sorcerer! Stand your ground and face the wrath of Tatewaki Kuno!"

"Saotome, you are going to pay for humiliating me!"

But almost more frightening than any of these others was the sight of gi-clad Genma trailing behind the main pack, a disapproving and disgusted scowl on his face. He was backed by a gigantic Soun Tendo demon head, complete with long lashing tongue. Apparently, Ranma’s worries about breaking the news to the two patriarchs was a moot point.

"BOY! Get back here and face your punishment like a MAN!"

"RRRrrwwwwwlllllllrrrrrrrrrgghh!!"

"I am soooo dead," was the only thing Ranma could think to say as the dark cloud closed in on him.

Ryoga grabbed him by the sleeve, turned and ran, having no second thoughts whatsoever. He’d faced some pretty scary things in his life, but nothing was as starkly terrifying as this mob that was coming for Ranma. Though Ryoga reflected that only two days previous not only would he have left Ranma to the throng, but probably would have been among them, things were different now. He hadn’t yet decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The angry riotous mob following them through the streets of Nerima, the two boys raced for all they were worth. As they ran side by side, Ranma chanced a glance at Ryoga, sweat flying from his brow.

"Where did you say your family’s vacation house was?!"

________________________________________________________________________________

1999 raptor@LD4.com

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