Akane rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a moment. The words on the page were starting to run together. Yawning, she reached forward, bringing the can of acrid-smelling energy drink to her lips with a shaking hand. I don’t know how Ranko drinks this shit, she thought, swallowing a mouthful with a grimace. Nap in a can? More like crap in a can.
Her final term paper of her freshman year of college was due tomorrow afternoon, and between studying for all of her other exams, the assignment had been pushed off to the last minute. The last minute had arrived, and Akane was exhausted. It was just after two in the morning, and she was still about three pages short of the minimum the professor had required for the assignment. She glared at the pencil that lay on her notebook, willing it to leap up and continue writing on its own while she rested. It did not.
She was shocked out of her torpor by the sound of the front door opening, whirling in the creaky wooden chair to spy her future wife entering the apartment. Ranko hung her little black purse on a nail behind the door, kicking off her shoes at the door and carrying them into the bedroom. The redhead gave a small frown at the sight of Akane still seated at the little study desk in the corner of their room.
“You’re still fighting with that, Akane?” Ranko sighed, tossing her black platform heels into the closet as she walked past, on the way to wrap Akane in a supportive hug from behind.
“Mmm.” Akane leaned back into Ranko’s arms, resting the back of her head between the singer’s breasts. “Yeah, and I’m beat. But it’s gotta get done. I shouldn’t have put it off this long.”
Ranko frowned, stroking her partner’s hair softly with her fingers. “What can I do to help?”
Akane chuckled, shaking her head gently even as the back of it rested in Ranko’s bosom. “Not much, honestly, unless you think you can learn enough about all the Renaissance painters to write this essay in the next few hours.” Cracking the tiniest of smiles, Akane tilted her head back to look up. “Just go to bed, princess. You had a show tonight; you must be exhausted, and you’ve got school in the morning. I’ll move out to the table so you can turn the lights out.”
Akane started to gather her writing materials, but Ranko leaned down, kissing her fiancee on the nape of her neck. “When’s the last time you took a break? Have you eaten anything?”
Akane shrugged. “Three, maybe four hours ago, and no. I lost track of time working on this crap.”
With a nod and a supportive smile, Ranko reached down for her hand. “Come on. Staring at the desk isn’t getting it done any faster. Time for a break. Let’s get you some dinner and a rest.”
Akane shook her head. “I really should stay at it, and you don’t need to be cooking at 2:30 in the morning. I’m not going to ask that of you.”
Ranko pulled at her arm gently, encouraging her fiancee to stand until she did. “Then it’s a good thing I offered. C’mere, you. You’d say the same thing to me if I was the one working all night.” Having done so through most of the early part of the school year – thankfully, less the offer to cook – Ranko was quite confident in her assessment. She pulled Akane out to the living room, leading her to the couch. “Now, you sit right here, and I’ll be right back.” She leaned down as Akane plopped down onto her backside, parting Akane’s bangs with her fingers and kissing her on the forehead. Akane closed her eyes, breathing deep of her. Just the scent of the redheaded girl that had once been Ranma Saotome was enough to put her in a better state of mind.
“I love you,” Akane called as Ranko flitted to the kitchen, pulling her black vinyl apron on over the yellow skater dress she’d worn on stage. Ranko wanted to make extra sure not to get anything on the dress; it was Akane’s.
“I love you too, Akane. Give me just a few minutes!” Ranko looked around the kitchen. What can I get going fast, where I don’t have to stay in here and watch it?
She spied the white plastic rice cooker on the kitchen countertop next to the refrigerator. Okay, first things first, let’s get you going. She poured a few cups of dry rice and some cold water into the device, closing it and pressing a few buttons. Popping the refrigerator door open, she stuck her head in, shivering a bit with the sudden rush of cold on her bare legs. Let’s see… chicken will take too long, breakfast stuff like takoyaki needs too much attention… She spied a pair of salmon filets wrapped in white butcher’s paper on the second shelf. Perfect! Here, fishy, fishy…
Ranko pulled out the fish, unwrapping the filets and reaching into the cabinet beneath the kitchen counter for a cookie sheet. Spreading a tiny bit of olive oil on the pan to prevent the fish from sticking, she lay the filets on the pan skin side down. Humming the song she’d been practicing for Saturday’s television appearance to herself, she quickly drizzled the fish in a bit more olive oil, teriyaki sauce from a half-empty glass bottle she’d withdrawn from the fridge, and a pinch of salt each. She pushed a few buttons on the stove, beginning the preheat process and sliding the pan onto the top oven rack. Over a year of cooking, she’d gotten fairly good at adjusting the timing of things so she could put the food in the oven without waiting for the preheating process to finish, so as not to have to stick her head in a hot oven and endure the blast of heat that was so uncomfortable on her fragile skin.
She hadn’t wanted to admit it to Akane – not that her perceptive fiancee hadn’t picked up on it easily anyway – just how utterly terrified she was at the prospect of singing on television in less than thirty-six hours. Plus, there would be an interview - what if she said the wrong thing? What if they trapped her into giving away too much?
Her humming gave way to quiet singing. Practicing was the one thing she could do to make herself more ready.
“Don’t jiggle the antenna or adjust your set! Though I’m the best you’ve ever seen, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”
Pushing a few buttons on the microwave to set a seventeen minute timer and hanging her apron back on the nail in the pantry door, Ranko walked back through the living room on her way to the bathroom. “Almost done, my love.”
Akane blushed with a weary smile as Ranko disappeared into the bathroom. My gods, that girl is incredible. I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with her.
The redhead returned in just a moment, carrying a small white tube that tapered into a wedge at one end and came to a round spout at its base. She stood in front of Akane, crossing her ankles and bending her legs as she lowered herself into a cross-legged seated position on the floor at her fiancee’s feet. Ranko unscrewed the deep violet cap of the tube, squirting some of the lavender-scented lotion into the palm of her hand. It always made her a little sad to look down at her hands and not see her engagement rings - the sapphire promise ring Akane had given her at Christmas and the diamond solitaire Aki had given her on Valentine’s Day - but she’d left them on the bathroom counter to spare them from getting caked with the lotion.
Akane watched her lover shiver ever so slightly as the sudden introduction of the cold, slimy liquid to her palms triggered the “skin condition” that had changed Ranko’s life forever. It had been intended as extortion and punishment so long ago, and had instead been the catalyst that turned the brash, abrasive boy that Ranma had been a lifetime ago into the budding young lady who now sat smiling at Akane’s feet in her girlfriend’s yellow skater dress. Akane chuckled quietly to herself, imagining not for the first time what Shampoo’s grandmother would think if she knew that her master plan to force Ranma to be her “son-in-law” had instead made her into a sweet, caring, and content young woman who was about to be a bride. Didn’t quite work out as you planned, did it, you old ghoul? But hey, thanks. I owe you one. You gave us everything we ever wanted, and then some.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Smiling with a little purr, Akane reached down and stroked Ranko’s hair. “You don’t have to do that, you kn… mmm.” She closed her eyes, leaning back on the couch as Ranko finished rubbing her hands together to warm the lotion and began working it into the soles of Akane’s feet.
Ranko nodded with a bright smile, not that Akane saw it. “I know I don’t have to. But I want to. I always want to take care of you, Akane. You should know that by now.” She sighed happily. “There’s nothing in the world that makes me happier than making you smile or making your day easier.”
Whimpering softly as her body relaxed under Ranko’s efforts, Akane opened her eyes to smile down at the girl sitting on the floor. “I don’t want to wait another three months to marry you.”
Ranko leaned forward, kissing the bare skin of Akane’s left calf, just below where the hem of her green denim skirt lay. She rested her chin on Akane’s knee, looking up at her with a smile. “In that case, I do.”
Giggling quietly, Akane shook her head with a tired, playful smile. “I think there’s a little more to it than that.”
“Only because you want there to be, Akane. I told you before.” Ranko kissed her leg again, pressing both thumbs firmly into a knot on the sole of Akane’s left foot to begin loosening it. “I’m already yours. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve been yours for a long time now.”
Akane flashed her a goofy grin, running her fingers through Ranko’s wavy hair as she massaged her feet. “I’m yours too, you know. I always will be. But we should still do it right. You’re way too pretty not to get a chance to be a bride.”
Ranko blushed deeply, lowering her face until her forehead rested on Akane’s leg to hide it from her view. “Akane…” It still felt so strange for her to smile at being called pretty; to take it as a compliment and not as a reason to be on her guard. She never really used to want to be pretty as a girl unless it served her ends. She usually preferred to be invisible. But now? She wanted to shine. For her. She wanted to make Akane proud to have her on her arm. Sometimes, it was just still hard for her to admit it.
Akane beamed lovingly at the woman who held her heart, as well as her feet, in her hands. “I know I say this all the time, but sometimes, I just don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
Ranko smiled, using her fuchsia-manicured thumbs to knead in opposite directions away from the knot’s center to encourage it to dissipate into the surrounding muscle tissue. “You gave me a chance when no one else would.” She kissed Akane’s knee again, nuzzling her leg with her cheek even as her hands continued the massage. “You saw the person I could be – the person I was trying to be – and not the disaster I was, and you never judge me for the parts I’m still working on getting right. You put what was broken in me back together better than it was before.”
Akane purred quietly as Ranko kissed her leg softly again, this time a bit above her knee, and Ranko continued. “You didn’t care how far I’d fallen, and you picked me up, time and time again. You support me, you take care of me, and you protect me. Even from myself, sometimes.”
The redhead switched her hands to Akane’s right foot, and her lips followed to Akane’s right thigh as well. “You make me laugh. You make me smile. You make me…well, you know.” She giggled deviously, blushing bright red and letting Akane fill in the rest of her salacious thought. “You make me feel safe, and warm, and special.”
She looked down, away from Akane’s eyes as she replenished the lotion in her hands from the white tube, finding a new knot in Akane’s right foot to work on. “You make me feel… pretty. And cute. And sexy. And… you make me feel like it’s okay to want to feel like that around you.” She beamed brightly up at Akane, her eyes sparkling with adoration. “To feel like that for you.”
Ranko nuzzled her cheek gently against Akane’s thigh, acutely aware of every tiny little hair on both her skin and Akane’s. “And I am so thoroughly, completely, utterly, insanely in love with you. Sometimes I look at you, and I feel like my heart’s gonna explode because it’s so full.”
Akane sat up and reached down with a loving smile, cupping Ranko’s chin in her left hand and turning her lover’s head up to face her. “Ranko Tendo, did you know that you are going to be the most amazing wife anyone’s ever had?”
Ranko nodded, bobbing her chin in Akane’s palm. “I’m damn sure gonna try, Akane. You deserve no less.”
She tittered cutely, breaking eye contact as her hands began kneading the outer edges of Akane’s left foot. “And one day, I’m gonna be all rich and stuff from music, and you can just spend every day shopping and drinking little fruity cocktails with umbrellas in ‘em by a pool somewhere.” She traced a little heart on Akane’s thigh with a lotion-slick finger. “Until I come home from the studio, in the shortest little skirt I can find, and I curl up right next to you in your beach lounger. I’ll forget I’m a famous singer, and I’ll just be yours to do whatever you want to with all night.”
Akane blushed, stroking Ranko’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “You’d better be careful, girlfriend. Talking like that is gonna get dinner burned and my paper turned in late if you keep going.”
Ranko grinned up at her, nudging her cheek firmly into Akane’s hand. It was almost cat-like, Akane thought, but she dared not say those words. “Don’t worry, Akane. I’ll still be here when your paper is done.” With a little giggle, Ranko turned her head enough to kiss the palm of Akane’s hand. “I shouldn’t keep teasing, though. You still have to go look at all those paintings of naked girls in your art history book, and I don’t want you getting too distracted.”
With a loving smile, Akane stroked her cheek again. “Nothing like that will ever be as beautiful as you, Ranko. I love you so much.”
Ranko kissed the hand that bore Akane’s promise ring once more, hopping to her feet as the microwave timer beeped. “I love you too, Akane. Always. Now, let’s get you some dinner.”
Akane stood, following Ranko toward the kitchen, but before the redhead could turn into the narrow aisle formed by the two sides of the kitchen counter where their stove was, Akane tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, you want me to get that out for you?”
Ranko smiled, washing the lotion off her hands with what was, to her, ice-cold water in the sink. “I can do it, but if you wouldn’t mind.” She always appreciated that, despite Akane’s utter lack of culinary prowess, she was willing to do what she could to help and mitigate the numerous challenges the Cat’s Tongue caused her in the kitchen.
Slipping on a pair of pink oven mitts styled to look like pigs, Akane opened the oven door and pulled out the aluminum cookie sheet. “This smells fantastic.” She rested the metal pan on the stovetop, turning off the oven and tossing her oven mitts aside as she closed the oven door.
Ranko stepped back into the kitchen as she dried her hands with a red dish towel, having taken a few steps back out of the kitchen while the oven door was open and radiating its heat. “I hope so. It’s not much, just what I could throw together real quick.”
Akane wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, lifting her up and sitting her on the kitchen counter. She brushed the curtain of red hair away from her beloved’s right eye, ignoring the merry tune that began to chirp from the rice cooker on the counter behind her. “It’s perfect. And so are you.”
Akane smiled, feeling the whole of her future wife’s body quiver as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss the side of Ranko’s neck.