For the second day...
Dec. 15th, 2009 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
staricelingTitle: What the Cat Dragged In
Prompt: Cute Animals
Pairing: hints of Ryoga/Ranma (both male!Ranma and female!Ranma)
Warnings: Yaoi. Het. Descriptions of nudity. Kittens.
Summary: Ranma doesn't like cats. Cats like Ryoga. And Ryoga likes...
A miserable yowl right over his head prompted Ryoga to look up in surprise. Perched precariously in the top branches of a large cherry tree was a black-and-white kitten. Even as he watched the kitten reached one paw tentatively down at the next branch before backing off and letting out another distressed cry.
Never one to leave a weak creature in danger, Ryoga was up the tree and at the kitten’s level in a single controlled leap. He didn’t even notice that his sudden movement made the kitten arch and fluff up in surprise. He simply plucked the stranded kitten off of its branch and tucked it safely in the crook of his arm for the descent.
Strangely, once he reached the ground, Ryoga found he couldn’t put the kitten down. Four sets of sharp claws were suddenly locked in the material of his shirt.
It didn’t hurt, but Ryoga found he couldn’t pry more than one paw free at once. The kitten, more a wiry half-grown cat now he had a good look at it, obviously had no intention of being set down.
Now what? Ryoga stroked one finger over the kitten’s head, prompting a low, stuttering purr. The kitten squeezed its eyes into affectionate slits at him, and Ryoga could feel the vibrations of that purr through his clothes.
It wouldn’t do any harm to hold onto the kitten for now. A little company after wandering in the wilderness for so long alone. And, he thought as he gently stroked his new friend’s head and back with one finger, at least someone was happy to have him around. Ryoga started walking again. The Tendo dojo was around here somewhere. Probably.
---Four months later---
“Ya!”
Ryoga looked up, not at all surprised to see a large black-and-white cat sitting on a nearby wall, nearly over his head. The same kitten he had pulled out of a tree only a few months ago had grown into a tough stray who was a terror of neighborhood dogs and accomplished thief of unattended food.
With a graceful wiggle, bunch, and launch, the cat leapt at him and landed squarely on top of Ryoga’s pack. Then, purring that same deep, rusty purr, the cat kneaded at Ryoga’s shoulder and butted its head into his cheek.
Ryoga spared one hand to scratch gently around the cat’s ears and neck. He was something of a friend and landmark. The Tendo dojo was around here. Whether he found it this time or not was the question, but it was somewhere close.
Five minutes of affection was about all his stray friend seemed comfortable with. A graceful dismount from Ryoga’s shoulder to the ground and the cat trotted off with tail erect, across the street and through a hole in a nearby fence. Ryoga was about to continue on his search when he heard an anguished shriek from the behind the same fence. Human this time, he was pretty sure.
Ryoga was over the fence in an instant, but there he stopped. It was Ranma he found sprawled out on the ground, arms and legs half curled in like a crab, with the stray cat sitting in the center of his chest.
It was surreal to see his rival laid out like that. Ryoga stared for a few seconds, taking it in as Ranma twitched and the tip of the cat’s tail tapped against him in precise time.
He couldn’t leave Ranma like that. Ryoga hopped down and gently removed the cat from Ranma’s chest. When that wasn’t enough to revive him, Ryoga simply lifted the catatonic martial artist and tossed him over one shoulder. He was on his way to the Tendo dojo anyway. He would just drop Ranma off when he got there.
It was simple enough to say he would drop Ranma off, but half an hour later he still hadn’t seen anyone or reached anywhere he recognized. He had seen a lot of places he thought he’d been before, but he would turn around and suddenly he was somewhere else again. It was worse because the Tendo dojo was one of the few places he could usually find, eventually. And if Ranma would just wake up he might actually be able to find it.
Finally it got to the point where Ryoga was aware he was not in an urban, or even particularly suburban, area anymore. Ranma still hadn’t woken up, and it was time to fix that.
There was a well nearby, and Ryoga kept his gaze fixed firmly on it until he reached it, one of the tricks he’d learned to navigate short distances without getting turned around. He unslung his pack and dropped it before depositing Ranma in an ungraceful heap on top.
A few light smacks that would have left bruises on a normal person did nothing to rouse Ranma, so he had no choice but to take more drastic measures. Ryoga set up his travel stove first to heat some well water, then got a second bucketful and sloshed half of it into Ranma’s face.
Predictably, his rival jerked out of his fetal position and sat up with a dramatic yelp as he was changed to female form. What Ryoga didn’t predict was Ranma grabbing the bucket out of his hands and throwing the remaining cold water all over him with a cry of, “What was that for!?”
Ryoga was too furious to even spare a thought about how that was the absolute last time he helped Ranma with anything ever. He was the pig again, and if anyone could have known how he hated this it should have been Ranma. Ryoga burned with fury from hooves to curly tail and the sound of his own squeal of anger only made it worse.
Before he could even launch himself at his foe, Ryoga found himself pinned under Ranma’s foot, hooves scrabbling useless tracks in the dirt.
Ranma pulled off his shirt to squeeze the water out, muttering something under his breath about cats and abductors and probably maligning Ryoga’s sense of direction while he was at it. Ryoga was too busy trying to bite Ranma’s toes to listen.
He did notice when Ranma spotted his travel stove and the heating water kettle, mostly because Ranma’s weight shifted enough to squish the breath out of him.
“I guess you can be thoughtful sometimes,” was what Ranma said, sitting down and picking Ryoga up in one arm.
Ryoga was too winded to do more than gasp and glare his hatred. He was going to wipe that smirk off of Ranma’s face in a few seconds, or at least once he was able to breathe normally.
“Awww, P-chaaaan.”
The next thing Ryoga knew he was being squished again, this time into Ranma’s chest. Ryoga found his whole body pressed neatly between Ranma’s soft, warm breasts. Lips brushed the top of his head, the tip of Ranma’s braid tickling the underside of his chin. It didn’t matter if Ranma’s high-pitched coo was mocking him, because his brain had completely short-circuited from the sensory overload.
“Heh,” Ranma laughed softly, “You’re still a perverted pig.”
The feeling of Ranma’s fingers rubbing lightly up and down the back of Ryoga’s neck was so soothing that he might as well have not said anything rude. Maybe. . . maybe it was okay to be small enough to be completely pressed into those ample assets.
Ryoga missed whatever Ranma did next, but the next thing he knew there was hot water trickling down Ranma’s chest, and then over the back of his own head and down his neck. It felt like he was melting, like an unnecessary layer of skin was dissolving into steam as he grew back to his normal size.
The world righted itself and left him naked, kneeling over Ranma, with both hands cupped to Ranma’s hard chest. They both looked down at the position of his hands, and Ryoga dimly realized he was unconsciously fondling his obviously male rival.
“Perverted pig,” Ranma repeated.
It didn’t matter how limited Ranma’s stock of automatic insults were when they stung so effectively. Those words were enough to unfreeze Ryoga and make him take a swing at Ranma’s head. The fact that Ranma sprang up and out of the way before his fist could connect did absolutely nothing to appease Ryoga’s frustration.
Ranma feinted backward, moving only enough to avoid Ryoga’s fists without even bothering to move into a fighting stance. Ryoga knew from the start nothing was going to hit. They both knew it. When his fist finally slammed into the wide tree trunk he had backed Ranma against, there didn’t seem to be a reason to swing anymore.
Ryoga was far too out of breath for their short chase. Ranma just stayed put, head tilted delicately out of the way of his fist.
“You’re not really mad, are you?”
No, but he should be. At the very least he should be angry with himself for not being furious with Ranma. Ryoga ground his fist into the undeserving tree, hardly hearing the wood creak and groan under the pressure.
“Ryoga, are you angry with little ol’ me?” This in a cute sing-song voice that didn’t suit the male version of Ranma at all.
“No.”
Ryoga unclenched his hand, raised it to Ranma’s face and delicately flicked away a few stray splinters of bark that had landed on his cheek. He couldn’t meet his rival’s eyes, because he wasn’t mad. He should rise to Ranma’s taunting and be furious, but. . . his finger traced uncertain spirals over the firm arch of Ranma’s cheekbone instead. Maybe he really was perverted, if getting up close and personal with Ranma for a few seconds made it this hard to summon up his usual temper.
The next thing he knew was the feeling of Ranma’s fingers on the back of his neck, stroking firmly up and down his spine. That simple touch seemed to be encouraging Ryoga to let go, give up all rationality. He wanted to lift his head and move into the soft warmth of Ranma’s breath until he reached the source.
“I’m not even a girl right now,” Ranma pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Ryoga wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or not. He dared look Ranma in the face, and suddenly it did matter. He should have known that Ranma was teasing him. Ranma was always teasing him, flirting as a girl and then turning it right around on him the minute he was back to normal.
“Idiot.”
Of course he was an idiot! He should have known, just thinking of touching Ranma with that sort of affection. . . Ryoga slammed his forehead into the tree trunk to drive that thought out.
Ryoga didn’t know what to think when the tree cracked in half under his headbutt and fell across his back, heavy enough that he sort of felt it. When he opened his eyes he found Ranma had ducked under him to get out of the way of the falling tree, and was looking up at him as if he really had gone crazy.
Maybe he had gone crazy. Ryoga smiled sadly, closing his eyes to the confusion on Ranma’s face.
“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to face you until I regain my pride as a man, Ranma.”
Ryoga shook off the felled tree, ready to find a new training regimen to devote himself too. That weakness to Ranma’s feminine charm, that unexpected affectionate thought that had carried over in spite of the change, Ryoga would have to find a way to purge that before he could face his rival seriously. He saw that now. Ranma deserved no less.
“Be ready for my challenge when I return.”
“Your clothes are that way,” Ranma interjected, turning Ryoga’s face toward them with one hand.
Ryou thought he started in that direction, but his mind was too full with the need to better himself and the sky seemed to spin over him, and the next thing he knew Ranma had to grab him by the hand and forcibly lead him to where he had left his clothes and pack.
“You have such a bad sense of direction, it’s a wonder you ever find me at all,” Ranma was muttering. Ryoga was momentarily transfixed by the surreal sight of Ranma’s hand clasped around his.
“Of course I can find you, idiot.”
“Don’t call me an idiot when you’re the idiot! You don’t even know where you’ve dragged me to, do you?”
That wasn’t the problem, Ryoga thought while he dressed again. He always found his way eventually. Even if he took a little longer than expected, he had always found his way to where Ranma was.
---One week later---
It was only a week later when Ryoga found himself confronted by a familiar feline face. He hadn’t meant to be anywhere near the Tendo dojo so soon, but that didn’t stop him bending to rub behind his friend’s ears.
The cat purred and nuzzled his hand for a moment, and it made Ryoga smile that at least someone was happy to see him here.
With an agreeable purr and a characteristic meow of, “Ya,” the cat took a few steps away, then looked back at Ryoga. It took a few repeats of taking a few steps then looking back with a vocal reprimand for Ryoga to decide he was supposed to follow.
Bemused, he followed the stray cat about half a block and into a narrow allay. He found Ranma flat out on his back, apparently in cat-shock. Even as he watched, the stray cat hopped onto Ranma’s chest and looked back at him with a delicate tail-flick.
It was as if his friend was saying, ‘look what I caught for you.’ At least that was how Ryoga interpreted it. He bent down and scratched behind the cat’s ears. It was no mean feat for a small cat to catch a whole person, after all.
“Good kitty. I think. . . .”
Prompt: Cute Animals
Pairing: hints of Ryoga/Ranma (both male!Ranma and female!Ranma)
Warnings: Yaoi. Het. Descriptions of nudity. Kittens.
Summary: Ranma doesn't like cats. Cats like Ryoga. And Ryoga likes...
A miserable yowl right over his head prompted Ryoga to look up in surprise. Perched precariously in the top branches of a large cherry tree was a black-and-white kitten. Even as he watched the kitten reached one paw tentatively down at the next branch before backing off and letting out another distressed cry.
Never one to leave a weak creature in danger, Ryoga was up the tree and at the kitten’s level in a single controlled leap. He didn’t even notice that his sudden movement made the kitten arch and fluff up in surprise. He simply plucked the stranded kitten off of its branch and tucked it safely in the crook of his arm for the descent.
Strangely, once he reached the ground, Ryoga found he couldn’t put the kitten down. Four sets of sharp claws were suddenly locked in the material of his shirt.
It didn’t hurt, but Ryoga found he couldn’t pry more than one paw free at once. The kitten, more a wiry half-grown cat now he had a good look at it, obviously had no intention of being set down.
Now what? Ryoga stroked one finger over the kitten’s head, prompting a low, stuttering purr. The kitten squeezed its eyes into affectionate slits at him, and Ryoga could feel the vibrations of that purr through his clothes.
It wouldn’t do any harm to hold onto the kitten for now. A little company after wandering in the wilderness for so long alone. And, he thought as he gently stroked his new friend’s head and back with one finger, at least someone was happy to have him around. Ryoga started walking again. The Tendo dojo was around here somewhere. Probably.
“Ya!”
Ryoga looked up, not at all surprised to see a large black-and-white cat sitting on a nearby wall, nearly over his head. The same kitten he had pulled out of a tree only a few months ago had grown into a tough stray who was a terror of neighborhood dogs and accomplished thief of unattended food.
With a graceful wiggle, bunch, and launch, the cat leapt at him and landed squarely on top of Ryoga’s pack. Then, purring that same deep, rusty purr, the cat kneaded at Ryoga’s shoulder and butted its head into his cheek.
Ryoga spared one hand to scratch gently around the cat’s ears and neck. He was something of a friend and landmark. The Tendo dojo was around here. Whether he found it this time or not was the question, but it was somewhere close.
Five minutes of affection was about all his stray friend seemed comfortable with. A graceful dismount from Ryoga’s shoulder to the ground and the cat trotted off with tail erect, across the street and through a hole in a nearby fence. Ryoga was about to continue on his search when he heard an anguished shriek from the behind the same fence. Human this time, he was pretty sure.
Ryoga was over the fence in an instant, but there he stopped. It was Ranma he found sprawled out on the ground, arms and legs half curled in like a crab, with the stray cat sitting in the center of his chest.
It was surreal to see his rival laid out like that. Ryoga stared for a few seconds, taking it in as Ranma twitched and the tip of the cat’s tail tapped against him in precise time.
He couldn’t leave Ranma like that. Ryoga hopped down and gently removed the cat from Ranma’s chest. When that wasn’t enough to revive him, Ryoga simply lifted the catatonic martial artist and tossed him over one shoulder. He was on his way to the Tendo dojo anyway. He would just drop Ranma off when he got there.
It was simple enough to say he would drop Ranma off, but half an hour later he still hadn’t seen anyone or reached anywhere he recognized. He had seen a lot of places he thought he’d been before, but he would turn around and suddenly he was somewhere else again. It was worse because the Tendo dojo was one of the few places he could usually find, eventually. And if Ranma would just wake up he might actually be able to find it.
Finally it got to the point where Ryoga was aware he was not in an urban, or even particularly suburban, area anymore. Ranma still hadn’t woken up, and it was time to fix that.
There was a well nearby, and Ryoga kept his gaze fixed firmly on it until he reached it, one of the tricks he’d learned to navigate short distances without getting turned around. He unslung his pack and dropped it before depositing Ranma in an ungraceful heap on top.
A few light smacks that would have left bruises on a normal person did nothing to rouse Ranma, so he had no choice but to take more drastic measures. Ryoga set up his travel stove first to heat some well water, then got a second bucketful and sloshed half of it into Ranma’s face.
Predictably, his rival jerked out of his fetal position and sat up with a dramatic yelp as he was changed to female form. What Ryoga didn’t predict was Ranma grabbing the bucket out of his hands and throwing the remaining cold water all over him with a cry of, “What was that for!?”
Ryoga was too furious to even spare a thought about how that was the absolute last time he helped Ranma with anything ever. He was the pig again, and if anyone could have known how he hated this it should have been Ranma. Ryoga burned with fury from hooves to curly tail and the sound of his own squeal of anger only made it worse.
Before he could even launch himself at his foe, Ryoga found himself pinned under Ranma’s foot, hooves scrabbling useless tracks in the dirt.
Ranma pulled off his shirt to squeeze the water out, muttering something under his breath about cats and abductors and probably maligning Ryoga’s sense of direction while he was at it. Ryoga was too busy trying to bite Ranma’s toes to listen.
He did notice when Ranma spotted his travel stove and the heating water kettle, mostly because Ranma’s weight shifted enough to squish the breath out of him.
“I guess you can be thoughtful sometimes,” was what Ranma said, sitting down and picking Ryoga up in one arm.
Ryoga was too winded to do more than gasp and glare his hatred. He was going to wipe that smirk off of Ranma’s face in a few seconds, or at least once he was able to breathe normally.
“Awww, P-chaaaan.”
The next thing Ryoga knew he was being squished again, this time into Ranma’s chest. Ryoga found his whole body pressed neatly between Ranma’s soft, warm breasts. Lips brushed the top of his head, the tip of Ranma’s braid tickling the underside of his chin. It didn’t matter if Ranma’s high-pitched coo was mocking him, because his brain had completely short-circuited from the sensory overload.
“Heh,” Ranma laughed softly, “You’re still a perverted pig.”
The feeling of Ranma’s fingers rubbing lightly up and down the back of Ryoga’s neck was so soothing that he might as well have not said anything rude. Maybe. . . maybe it was okay to be small enough to be completely pressed into those ample assets.
Ryoga missed whatever Ranma did next, but the next thing he knew there was hot water trickling down Ranma’s chest, and then over the back of his own head and down his neck. It felt like he was melting, like an unnecessary layer of skin was dissolving into steam as he grew back to his normal size.
The world righted itself and left him naked, kneeling over Ranma, with both hands cupped to Ranma’s hard chest. They both looked down at the position of his hands, and Ryoga dimly realized he was unconsciously fondling his obviously male rival.
“Perverted pig,” Ranma repeated.
It didn’t matter how limited Ranma’s stock of automatic insults were when they stung so effectively. Those words were enough to unfreeze Ryoga and make him take a swing at Ranma’s head. The fact that Ranma sprang up and out of the way before his fist could connect did absolutely nothing to appease Ryoga’s frustration.
Ranma feinted backward, moving only enough to avoid Ryoga’s fists without even bothering to move into a fighting stance. Ryoga knew from the start nothing was going to hit. They both knew it. When his fist finally slammed into the wide tree trunk he had backed Ranma against, there didn’t seem to be a reason to swing anymore.
Ryoga was far too out of breath for their short chase. Ranma just stayed put, head tilted delicately out of the way of his fist.
“You’re not really mad, are you?”
No, but he should be. At the very least he should be angry with himself for not being furious with Ranma. Ryoga ground his fist into the undeserving tree, hardly hearing the wood creak and groan under the pressure.
“Ryoga, are you angry with little ol’ me?” This in a cute sing-song voice that didn’t suit the male version of Ranma at all.
“No.”
Ryoga unclenched his hand, raised it to Ranma’s face and delicately flicked away a few stray splinters of bark that had landed on his cheek. He couldn’t meet his rival’s eyes, because he wasn’t mad. He should rise to Ranma’s taunting and be furious, but. . . his finger traced uncertain spirals over the firm arch of Ranma’s cheekbone instead. Maybe he really was perverted, if getting up close and personal with Ranma for a few seconds made it this hard to summon up his usual temper.
The next thing he knew was the feeling of Ranma’s fingers on the back of his neck, stroking firmly up and down his spine. That simple touch seemed to be encouraging Ryoga to let go, give up all rationality. He wanted to lift his head and move into the soft warmth of Ranma’s breath until he reached the source.
“I’m not even a girl right now,” Ranma pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Ryoga wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or not. He dared look Ranma in the face, and suddenly it did matter. He should have known that Ranma was teasing him. Ranma was always teasing him, flirting as a girl and then turning it right around on him the minute he was back to normal.
“Idiot.”
Of course he was an idiot! He should have known, just thinking of touching Ranma with that sort of affection. . . Ryoga slammed his forehead into the tree trunk to drive that thought out.
Ryoga didn’t know what to think when the tree cracked in half under his headbutt and fell across his back, heavy enough that he sort of felt it. When he opened his eyes he found Ranma had ducked under him to get out of the way of the falling tree, and was looking up at him as if he really had gone crazy.
Maybe he had gone crazy. Ryoga smiled sadly, closing his eyes to the confusion on Ranma’s face.
“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to face you until I regain my pride as a man, Ranma.”
Ryoga shook off the felled tree, ready to find a new training regimen to devote himself too. That weakness to Ranma’s feminine charm, that unexpected affectionate thought that had carried over in spite of the change, Ryoga would have to find a way to purge that before he could face his rival seriously. He saw that now. Ranma deserved no less.
“Be ready for my challenge when I return.”
“Your clothes are that way,” Ranma interjected, turning Ryoga’s face toward them with one hand.
Ryou thought he started in that direction, but his mind was too full with the need to better himself and the sky seemed to spin over him, and the next thing he knew Ranma had to grab him by the hand and forcibly lead him to where he had left his clothes and pack.
“You have such a bad sense of direction, it’s a wonder you ever find me at all,” Ranma was muttering. Ryoga was momentarily transfixed by the surreal sight of Ranma’s hand clasped around his.
“Of course I can find you, idiot.”
“Don’t call me an idiot when you’re the idiot! You don’t even know where you’ve dragged me to, do you?”
That wasn’t the problem, Ryoga thought while he dressed again. He always found his way eventually. Even if he took a little longer than expected, he had always found his way to where Ranma was.
It was only a week later when Ryoga found himself confronted by a familiar feline face. He hadn’t meant to be anywhere near the Tendo dojo so soon, but that didn’t stop him bending to rub behind his friend’s ears.
The cat purred and nuzzled his hand for a moment, and it made Ryoga smile that at least someone was happy to see him here.
With an agreeable purr and a characteristic meow of, “Ya,” the cat took a few steps away, then looked back at Ryoga. It took a few repeats of taking a few steps then looking back with a vocal reprimand for Ryoga to decide he was supposed to follow.
Bemused, he followed the stray cat about half a block and into a narrow allay. He found Ranma flat out on his back, apparently in cat-shock. Even as he watched, the stray cat hopped onto Ranma’s chest and looked back at him with a delicate tail-flick.
It was as if his friend was saying, ‘look what I caught for you.’ At least that was how Ryoga interpreted it. He bent down and scratched behind the cat’s ears. It was no mean feat for a small cat to catch a whole person, after all.
“Good kitty. I think. . . .”