“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it aw… hey!”
Ranko giggled brightly, losing track of her singing as she felt a tickle on the side of her neck. “No sneaking up on me like that when I’m cookin’!”
Akane draped her arm around her wife’s waist, spinning the slight redhead around in her arms. She wiggled the fluffy white cotton puff dangling from the top of Ranko’s green plush Santa hat, tickling her bare shoulder with it again. “It’s not my fault you went and got all irresistibly cute. It can’t be helped.” Grinning, Akane slipped her hand around her lover’s back again, laughing heartily over Ranko’s loud yelp as her hand slid up the back of the skirt of the singer’s green velvet dress and forcefully grabbed a handful of her backside. “See? Powerless to resist.”
“Listen here, you. You think just because you went and married me, you get to just put your hands on me whenever you want?!” Ranko planted her feet, resting her fists on her hips in a defiant stance.
Akane nodded matter-of-factly, answering in a chipper tone. “Yep.”
“Well, okay.” Ranko tittered again, stepping forward and letting Akane envelop her in her strong arms. She curled her arms against her chest, tucking her hands under her chin to curl up as tightly as she could in her wife’s embrace. “Just making sure we agree.” She nuzzled her cheek gently against Akane’s chest through her white lace dress, careful not to smudge too much of her foundation on it.
“Akane, do you have any idea how much I love you?”
Rubbing Ranko’s back through her velvet dress and grinning at the purr it elicited from her ever-sensitive young wife, Akane nodded. “If I had to wager a guess, I’d say, about as much as I love you.”
Ranko sighed happily, nodding in agreement. “I feel so lucky that we get to be together for Christmas, and not have to hide like so many of our friends do. It kinda kicked our asses a little getting here, but now I get to melt into your arms whenever I want, and not feel anything except proud of it.” She giggled quietly. “And I always want.”
“I know, princess. Me, too. That’s why I think it was so sweet of you to want to throw this party, for our friends who can’t.” Akane grinned, brushing a strand of Ranko’s shoulder-length hair out of her lover’s eyes and tucking it behind her left ear. “Gods, what I’d give to go back to three years ago and show you this moment. You standing there in that adorable dress, dancing and singing while you cook Christmas dinner for fourteen.”
Ranko sighed quietly, but her cheeks reddened slightly. “So you could tease me about what a silly girl you were gonna turn me into?”
Akane shook her head, running her fingers over the smaller girl’s cheek and restoring the smicker that had momentarily vanished from it. “No. So I could show you this glorious, beautiful smile on your face, and the joy I see in your eyes right now. So you’d know there was hope you could be this happy one day.”
Without warning, Ranko jumped upward into Akane’s chest, wrapping her arms tight around her wife’s neck and letting Akane catch her. The raven-haired young woman gripped her left wrist with her right hand, creating a ledge behind Ranko’s backside for her to sit on. Ranko dove forward, pulling Akane into a kiss. She whimpered quietly as Akane responded in it, the sound muffled somewhat by Akane’s tongue. She could have stayed in that mid-December moment for the rest of her life and been content, but Akane pulled back at the sound of a chime from just behind her.
“Sounds like our first guests are here, princess.” Akane bounced her once in her arms, stepping forward and depositing her wife on the edge of the kitchen counter. Before she turned to the door, Akane reached out, gently tapping the younger girl on the nose. “My beautiful girl.”
Ranko’s cheeks were still aflame as Akane pulled the door open, waving exaggeratedly. “Hey, girls! Merry Christmas!” Akane’s hands flew into a series of gestures, translating her words into sign language for the young woman holding Nanami Ikehara’s arm.
Mitsuru made a flurry of gestures, grinning up at Ranko as the redhead crossed her ankles, which still dangled from the kitchen countertop. Akane cackled, and Nanami joined her in a laugh and a blush.
“Okay, I’ll bite, what did I miss?” Ranko smirked, hopping back down to her feet.
Akane shook her head, grinning ear-to-ear at her wife. “Mitsuru saw the look on your face, and asked if we needed them to take a walk around the block and come back in an hour.”
The redhead’s cheeks warmed again, and she shook her head, hiding her face a bit. “Was it that obvious?”
“Only a little, babe.” Akane laughed, leading their guests into the living room as Nanami relayed Ranko’s words to her girlfriend. Three plastic tables had been set end-to-end, surrounded by the four wooden chairs from the girls’ dining room set as well as ten plastic folding chairs. The long table was tiled in festive red and green tablecloths, with a pair of potted silk poinsettias dividing the long dais into thirds.
Ranko slipped back out of the kitchen, leaning against the countertop dividing the alleyway kitchen from the living room. “I’ll start the chicken once a few more people get here; I don’t want things getting too cold. The potato salad and most of the other sides are ready to rock, and the cake’s in the oven.”
“Sounds amazing, Ran-chan! Anything I can do to help?” Nanami grinned, her hands flying in front of her as she echoed her words with her hands for the benefit of her longtime girlfriend. “We really appreciate you inviting us tonight.”
The redhead shook her head emphatically, the silver jingle bells dangling from her earlobes tinkling merrily. “Nope! We’re kind of in a holding pattern right now. Just relax! You girls want some wine, soda, or anything? There’s wagashi on the trays over there if you want.”
Nanami shook her head. “We’re golden right now, hon.” She slipped her blue bomber jacket off, starting to set it on the couch next to her, but Akane stepped forward to take it.
“Here, I’ll throw the coats in the other room.” With a few signs to Mitsuru, Akane indicated her intent, and soon had two heavy jackets in her arms to trundle off to the bedroom. She heard a pair of chimes as she slipped behind the half-closed door, and when she returned, two young men had joined the celebration in her living room.
“Hey, Akane! Merry Christmas!” Ryo waved with a grin, setting the festive gift bag in his hand down on the counter.
“Merry Christmas to you guys, too! Aw, you didn’t have to dress up! We’re not that formal around here. Want me to take your coats?” Akane reached for Ken’s navy blue blazer, which the young drummer had already slipped his arms out of and draped over his forearms.
“Bro! How you feelin’, man?”
Ken turned to the redhead in the alley kitchen with a bright smile after offloading his coat to one of the hostesses, wrapping the other in a tight hug. “Alright. Damn bug just kicked my ass again.”
Ranko nodded. “It’s something going around. Shit burned through my cheer squad like the fucking plague. I’m not sure Aoi and Ishii are gonna make it tonight; Aoi’s pretty much over it but Ishii was still feeling like ass the other day.” She flitted back into the kitchen, returning with a pair of dark brown bottles and offering one each to her drummer and his date. “Beer?”
Ryo laughed, untwisting the cap of his bottle. “Depends. Am I breathing?” Before he could lower the bottle from his lips after the first sip of the hoppy libation, the other bottle was thrust into his hand.
“You mind, babe?”
The elder of the two boys laughed, setting his open beer on the corner of the long row of tables. He unscrewed the cap from the second beer, tossing it in the trash can and handing the opened bottle back to Ken. “There ya go.”
Ken smiled, leaning against Ryo’s chest with a happy sigh. “And this is why everyone needs a boyfriend.”
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“I’m good, thanks,” Ranko replied from the kitchen with a bright laughter in her voice.
“You’re just saying that ‘cause your wife’s stronger than any boy you know,” Nanami called back, playfully punching at Akane’s shoulder.
“Cuter, too,” Ranko shouted over the loud whir of her stand mixer as she began working on a strawberry glaze for one of the desserts she’d prepared.
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Ranko giggled as the tails of the ribbon cinching the white apron she wore around her waist tickled the back of her knees with every move of the little salsa-inspired dance she performed alone in front of her stovetop. She swished her hips joyfully as she sang along with the radio, almost wishing she’d worn a petticoat under the dress just to make her skirt more playful. Still, the infectious Latin beat pouring from the little portable stereo on the kitchen counter refused to be denied.
“Feliz navidad! Feliz navidad! Feliz navidad, prospero año y felicidad…”
Damn straight, Akane. You’re right. The guy from three years ago would never recognize me. And I don’t fucking care. Fuck that guy. He wasn’t happy, and I am. And you know what? I friggin’ deserve it.
She reached over the bubbling pot with her hands in bright yellow rubber gloves, pinching at a drumstick with a long pair of tongs and plucking it from the oil. She rested it on a paper-towel-covered plate, searching for another piece of chicken. The deep fryer at the bar would have made it a lot easier to cook for this many people, but, gotta go with what I got.
The last of the current batch of chicken having been rescued from the Dutch oven full of boiling peanut oil, Ranko set her tongs down on the counter. A few more pieces and we should have enough, I think. But, before she could reach for another raw drumstick, she was grabbed around the left wrist and jerked backward. She spun around, and Akane caught Ranko’s rubber-gloved right hand in her left, stepping forward with a sway in her hips.
Ranko beamed, understanding her wife’s unspoken invitation perfectly. She stepped back, following her lover’s lead as her left hand took Akane’s right. The ceaselessly fluid motion of her hips carried her as she stepped backward again, nearly to the end of the narrow alleyway kitchen. She arched her back as Akane lifted her hand above her head, spinning her body around and slamming her back into Akane’s chest. Akane did not care in the least that the plush tassel at the tip of Ranko’s hat hit her in the face as she wrapped her hands around her beloved’s waist. Ranko took Akane’s hand in her own, wrapping her wife’s arm around her waist like a belt and taking two exaggerated steps forward with the woman in the white dress in tow. Akane pulled back her hand just for a fraction of a second, pulling Ranko’s left glove off of her hand and tossing it to the counter. A similar move in the opposite direction whipped the smaller girl around to Akane’s other side, and as she spun Ranko around her body, she quickly divested the beautiful redhead in her arms of her second rubber glove.
With a nudge on her back from Akane’s left hand, Ranko spun thrice, orbiting her love as she twirled on her ankles until it was Akane being backed into the kitchen alley.
“I wanna wish you a merry Christmas! I wanna wish you a merry Christmas! I wanna wish you a merry Christmas, from the bottom of my hea-aaart!”
Of all the new dance styles Ranko had learned in Ms. Kanzawa’s class, salsa was her favorite, especially when Akane danced it with her. The showy arm movements and the constant wiggle of the waist felt especially feminine, and not in the silly fluffy tutu way that ballet did. Coupled with the emphasis on holding each other close, and the way the dance’s leader manipulated their partner physically, it made her feel unabashedly sexy, and in Akane’s arms, there was little she’d rather be.
Ranko crashed forward into Akane’s chest, writhing in time against her lover’s body as she felt Akane’s hand take a handful of her ass through the skirt of her green velvet dress. She lay a gentle hand on Akane’s right breast, dancing with no discernable gap between their bodies, or between their hearts.
She beamed as Akane’s strong arms lifted her from the ground, holding on around her partner’s neck as Akane spun on her feet. On the third such spin, Akane released her waist, tossing her a little more than a meter. Ranko twisted twice in the air before landing just outside the entrance of the kitchen, facing into it. She stalked forward, flaring her arms above her head fluidly as she closed the distance to rejoin her partner. Akane took her hand, whirling the smaller girl around her again, and Ranko couldn’t help but giggle at the little jingle bells dangling from her ears joining the rhythm of the music as Akane’s hands took a commanding grip of her hips.
Don’t ever take your hands off of me, Akane. Never.
“Feliz navidad! Feliz navidad! Feliz navidad, prospero año y felicidad…”
Akane lifted her arm over her head again, spinning Ranko around her body and again pulling her into the corner of the alleyway kitchen. Ranko whirled backward until she was as far from her wife as she could be while still holding her hand, but then Akane yanked her back. Letting go of Akane’s hand, Ranko spun through the gap, rolling her body along the length of Akane’s arm until her hip collided with Akane’s, and the larger girl’s arms coiled around her again. Ranko lifted her right leg, resting her knee against Akane’s hip and arching her back behind her, Akane’s right hand supporting her as she was dipped back to look up at the white popcorn ceiling in time with the song’s ending.
“I wanna wish you a merry Christmas, from the bottom of my hea-aaaart!”
Ranko blushed breathlessly at the sound of cheering and clapping from the other side of the kitchen counter, having all but forgotten the presence of her dinner guests.
“Dinner and a show! Whooo!” Tamiko laughed at her blushing friend and captain, popping a wagashi into her mouth.
“Speaking of dinner,” Ranko said, reaching for her right glove on the counter where Akane had tossed it. “Food’s almost done, so everybody might wanna get settled.” She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her right forearm, having worked herself up from her vigorous dance in the heat of the kitchen. “Akane, you wanna start pouring drinks?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Akane replied, all smiles as she reached for the handle of the refrigerator door.
“Thank you, lover,” Ranko giggled as she dropped another chicken thigh into the boiling cauldron of oil on the gas stovetop with her tongs. Yori took her seat next to Tamiko, whipping the match in her hand through the air to extinguish it after having lit all of the white tapered candles in the two centerpieces between the poinsettias on the table.
Nanami turned the volume down on the portable stereo before sliding into a chair to Mitsuru’s right, between her and Ken. Aoi and Ryo shuttled between the counter and the table, placing serving dishes of fried chicken, potato salad, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese on each side of the table as well as a small wooden caddy full of various dipping sauces and condiments.
Ranko turned the burner of the stove off, using her still-greasy tongs to turn the knob at the back of the stovetop rather than reaching over the blue flame. She slipped her gloves off, tossing them aside and reaching behind herself to untie her apron. “Anybody need anything else before I sit?”
Akane pulled out the chair to the left of her own at the head of the table, motioning to it. “Come on, babe. You’ve done plenty, and you haven’t sat down in hours.”
Blushing at the idea of having her chair pulled out for her, Ranko made her way from the kitchen, but a loud chime from the door startled her as she passed it. Dusting her hands off, the redhead reached for the doorknob, pulling the door inward and smiling up at the two young men waiting in the hallway.
“Hey, Ranko! Are we too late?”
Ranko beamed, stepping out of the doorway to admit the tardy couple into her aromatic apartment. “Actually, Eiji, your timing’s perfect.”
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“Hurry up, Santa!” Aoi giggled, tossing a balled-up red paper napkin at the young man bent under the base of the sparsely-decorated Christmas tree in the corner of Ranko and Akane’s living room.
“I’m workin’ on it,” Orochi said with a laugh, straightening his back with a brightly-colored gift in each hand. “Some of you guys’ handwriting sucks! Okay, this one’s for Mitsuru and Nanami.” He handed the shiny silver bag in his right hand off to the tall green-haired girl to his left. “Sorry, still learning everyone’s names. Who’s Hitomi?”
A whoop and a hand rose from the floor, where Ranko’s backup dancers cuddled with their backs to the kitchen counter, and Orochi stepped forward to deliver a small box wrapped in festive green paper pocked with red reindeer to Emi.
“Okay, and then this one’s for Aoi and Ishii, and this one’s…” Orochi squinted down at the small tag and the tiny kanji scrawled messily on it. “Ken and Ryo.” He distributed the last two couples’ Secret Santa gifts before taking one of the wooden dining room chairs next to Eiji. “Before we start, I just wanna say thanks for tonight, Ranko and Akane. It was so nice to get to do this. Me and Ei-chan hardly ever get to do holidays as a couple, and I think I speak for everybody here when I say it means a lot that you thought of us.”
“Hear, hear! We love you, gay Mom and Dad!” Emi giggled, whooping as she smiled warmly at her friend and fellow vocalist.
Ranko’s cheeks flushed, squirming a bit in Akane’s lap on the couch as her wife squeezed her tight around the waist. Not sure how I feel about anybody calling me ‘mom’, she thought, her blush deepening when she realized she’d not even for a microsecond considered the possibility that the dad in Emi’s affectation could have been meant for her.
Akane must have picked up on her discomfort, because she laughed heartily, reaching around Ranko’s shoulder to softly poke her nose with an outstretched finger. “See, Ranko? I always knew you’d make a good mom someday.”
Gross, but okay. You wanna tease, Akane? Well, two can play that game, babe.
Ranko leaned back against Akane’s chest with a devious grin, lifting her lips until they were mere centimeters from Akane’s right ear as she reached up behind herself to cup her lover’s cheek in her hand. Her voice was a quiet, lusty purr.
“Mm. You know it, daddy.”
Akane sputtered, choking on air as her cheeks caught fire to a chorus of tittering from their guests and the beaming young woman wiggling in her lap.