Author's note: A touch of absurdity, a touch of affection, equals...
Repetition was good, Akane thought. Repetition meant reliability; it meant nothing new would upset the system, allowing them to live their lives comfortably and calmly. The less change, the better. Repetition meant expectancy; it meant she can go to bed and wake up everyday knowing exactly what to expect every minute of her day. She was prepared.
Therefore, it was perfectly reasonable for her to panic when Ranma, of all people, decided to break the custom.
She was in the kitchen doing the unimaginable – cooking. Heaven help Ranma, she viciously mused to herself. She was well aware her skills in the culinary arts were less than par, to say the least. Just recently, the arduous task of creating edible curry proudly slapped itself on her list of accomplished deeds after 12 years of trial and error. That was tragically the only edible dish on the list.
Sadistic… that was what she was. A sadist.
And could anyone blame her?
It was really all his fault. Maybe if he just wasn't so dumb, she wouldn't feel the overwhelming, all-encompassing desire to torture him so. Honestly, would any girl stand there silently while some macho, self-absorbed jerk called her horrible names? Uncute? She'll show him uncute! Built like a brick? She'll knock him out with one! Thighs too thick? She'll kick his sorry ass to the high heavens! How did the saying go? Be careful what you wish for…
Thus, she decided to skip curry and "surprise" her beloved wayward fiancé with uh something green and apparently moving.
Akane stared at the so-called food on her plate.
With one big sigh, she called out melodically from the kitchen, "Oh Ranma!"
She barely finished singing his name when he materialized in front of her with inquiring eyes.
Ranma stood in front of her, head cocking to one side, slightly apprehensive. But his hidden smile, the laughing eyes, his twitching fingers did not escape Akane's surprised state. She was almost afraid to conclude that he looked – eager.
She blinked, the dish in her hands forgotten.
"This is … different," she finally uttered. She didn't know if she meant his behavior or the food itself, most likely both.
A grin still stretching his face, Ranma grabbed the offered dinner from her gently. He gave a nod of gratitude and strolled to the table where the Tendo and Saotome patriarchs sat in catatonic shock. With morbid fascination, they stared as the spoonful of primordial guck filled Ranma's mouth.
If the fatal substance made him want to keel over and gag his brains out, he didn't show any signs. His face was, in fact, rather blank, and Akane watched, without blinking, a noticeable gulp slipping down his throat. She took a step back, alert as to run to the medicine cabinet at the smallest sign of death.
His rigid form sat stiffly on the chair and not a muscle twitched. Open eyes stared straight ahead at the wall. Genma curiously waved his hand in front of Ranma's eyes receiving no response.
Akane sighed, there, she had gone and done it again. She almost laughed. Almost.
"I think he fainted," Nabiki observed from her seat. She languidly leaned on the table on her elbows, her chopsticks held loosely in her hand.
"No!" Akane protested immediately. She bit her lip and thought of an alternative, "He's just – assessing the taste."
"Where is Kasumi anyway?" Soun asked meekly, the impending doom of sharing Ranma's fate hanging over him like a dark, stormy cloud. In the farthest corner of the kitchen, a rather large panda was seen rolling around with a tire, nibbling on bamboo leaves.
Nabiki shrugged, and Akane remained silent. Soun glanced from one daughter to the other before sighing and slapping a pile yen on the table. Grumbling, he slid the said money to his middle daughter.
"She's at the market, picking up some extra groceries for tomorrow," Nabiki flippantly spilled as she licked her thumb and forefinger to sift through the wad of yens.
"But couldn't she wait till tomorrow to pick them up?" Her father whimpered pathetically.
His youngest daughter breathed out exaggeratedly, her shoulders sagging. "Well, no, she had to pick them up today for tomorrow's meals, dad." Soun looked at Nabiki again.
"Why didn't she just send Ranma instead?" He grasped at straws, avoiding Akane's glare, "I'm sure he would've been faster and he is stronger."
"Because," Akane mumbled, "she wants to stop by Dr. Tofu, first, to return a book."
The Master of the Tendo School of Indiscriminate Grappling watched his daughters with moist eyes and quivering bottom lip and his mustache twitched under his nose. "But…Why couldn't Nabiki cook instead?" He finally wailed.
The said daughter shrugged pitilessly, "I don't do cooking," she said deadpanned. "Besides, aren't we forgetting a certain comatose person?" She asked and gestured towards the silent pigtailed boy. As if on cue, Ranma fell off his chair to the side in his frozen, unconscious state.
The remaining conscious members in the room peered at the stiff form before regarding each other at the table. Nabiki blew on her nails. Soun twirled his mustache. Genma chomped on a bamboo stick. Akane twiddled her thumbs. Somewhere outside the Tendo Dojo, a dog barked, a bird chirped, a cat meowed, and lost pig tumbled into a manhole.
Akane let out a loud sigh shoving herself away from the table. "Fine, I'll get him." With a twinge of guilt, she gingerly slung Ranma over her shoulder and trudged her way to the guest room.
In the guest room, dubbed as Ranma's room for the time being, she kneeled by his prone body clenching the hem of her skirt. There was still no response from the boy and Akane was reluctant to admit she was worried. He should've been moaning and groaning and basically acting like a big baby. But he remained silent.
"Ranma?" She called out softly. "Are you okay?"
At his lack of response, she scowled.
"Baka," she muttered, if affectionately.
To her amusement, he reacted to that, and he immediately started his cries of pain. Rolling from side to side, he clenched his jaw and sweat dripped down his forehead. A little more than alarmed, Akane rushed to retrieve a towel to pat his head. In the midst of her panic and his pain, her left hand grasped firmly onto his right hand, her thoughts in turmoil.
"Geez, Ranma, you didn't have to eat it," she mumbled with guilt, "and you looked so happy, too." Akane sighed as tears brimmed her eyes.
"Oh man," he rasped, but bit his lip from saying anything more. His arm protectively wrapped around his stomach, he curled up towards the warmth of her body. His breathing grew heavy and sweat continued to soak up the towel.
"Ranma?"
He only groaned, clenching his eyes shut tightly.
"Damn it," she cried out in frustration. "I'll be right back."
Akane thundered down the stairs and nearly crashed into Kasumi who had just walked in the front door.
"Kasumi!" She hugged her sister fervently, "help! You gotta help Ranma! He's really sick. His stomach hurts a lot!" She pulled at her sister's hand urgently towards the stairs. "Hurry!" When her sister didn't budge, Akane turned back surprised.
"Now, now, Akane, I'm sure he'll be alright," Kasumi smoothed Akane's hair in a motherly fashion. "This is not the first time he got sick from your cooking, ne?"
Akane winced.
"Do you remember what mother used to do when one of us had stomach aches?" Kasumi smiled warmly as she inched her way to the kitchen with her grocery bags. "I have to put these away. Why don't you go and try what mother did, I'm sure that'll do the trick." With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Akane by the stairs.
"But…but…" Akane's eyes glazed over as she pictured a memory of her mother soothing her stomach aches. She replaced her mother with herself, and her younger self with Ranma. A shudder racked her body. "But I can't do that to Ranma!"
Hearing nothing from the kitchen but her sister's humming, she dragged her feet up the stairs and back into the guest room. She warily eyed Ranma's curled up body and knelt quietly next to him once again. Gently, she nudged him onto his back, ignoring his mumbled protests.
She took a few deep breaths, a red hue already spreading across her nose. She glanced down at Ranma's face and almost lost her will. But his expression of pain made up her mind. Slowly, twitching, her hand slipped under his shirt barely coming in contact with his skin.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she rambled under her breath. She clenched her eyes, her entire face glowing red. Her hand barely rested against Ranma's abdomen, and her throat clogged with the urge to squeal. Unexpectedly, Ranma moaned and slightly shift to his side, her hand now firmly spread on his stomach.
Akane froze.
She stared at his face, uneasily. Her hand jerked, ready to pull out and just run back to Kasumi for help. But his eyes peaked open and pale blue eyes vacantly gazed back at her. In his dazed state, he didn't notice her hand resting against his stomach.
"Akane?"
"Uh, yeah?" She prayed he wouldn't say anything about their current predicament.
"It hurts," he barely whispered. He hissed, and she felt the muscles in his abdomen clench and unclench. Akane melted with his words, and her face softened. He appeared so utterly helpless, and she felt her heart break. Her fingers brushed his damp hair from his forehead, his body relaxing with her touch.
"I'll make it better," she murmured.
Her hand firmly but gently, rubbed his stomach in a circular motion feeling the taut muscles flex under her fingers. Her face permanently scarlet, she tried to ignore his smooth, tight skin as she repeatedly massaged his abdomen. Her heat and friction from the motion warmed his middle, spreading throughout his body. Akane felt his body slacken as he let out a sigh.
Pleased with herself, she continued her circular massage, and began to hum a lullaby, similar to the one her mother used to sing.
After a long moment, his hand came up and loosely held her wrist, stopped her movement. Her hand stilled directly on his stomach. She attempted to pull away, suddenly extremely self-conscious, but his hold tightened, preventing her from removing her hand.
She glanced at his face in confusion. But his eyes were still closed, his face revealing no emotion.
A few minutes later, she sighed and rested her tired body next to his, her hand still atop his stomach. She dozed off, not noticing a small smile curling on his face.
Hours later, a pigtailed martial artist quietly crept out of his room, leaving a girl curled up in his futon. He headed to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk whistling softly to himself. As he headed back upstairs to his room, he passed a smirking Nabiki who was leaning in the doorway of her room.
He saluted playfully at her before slipping into his room.
She shook her head, turning back into her own room, "Third time this week. She's gonna figure something out, and then you'll be in for it. Don't say I didn't warn you," she muttered, knowing Ranma would hear her from his room across the hall.
Inside the guest room, he chuckled quietly. Somehow, he doubted that.
Agilely, he plopped himself back to his original position on his back, next to Akane. He picked her hand up and rested it against his stomach again, laying his hand on top of hers. A soft smile lingered in his face, and he fell asleep for a good nights rest.
End notes: uh yeah... something my mah used to do when i was just a little girl with stomach aches. It actually works! um... yeah... -.- I'm sorry this story didn't make any sense.