Fic: "Sparkle" (Ranma 1/2, for kink_bingo)

[terajk]

Title: Sparkle
Fandom: Ranma 1/2
Rating: PG
Characters: Ryoga, Akane, Ranma
Ships: canon
Word count: 536
Content notes: Underage, someone uncomfortable with their own kink
Summary: It is the sparkle that steals his breath.
For kink_bingo, bodily secretions

Also at AO3

When he walks into the Tendo dojo (he is practiced at not looking like he had to stop for ramen just to find the damned place, more practiced than he is at the baksai tensetsu), Akane says, "....You jerk!"

"Yeah, Ryoga, you jerk." Ranma's hand is curled over her fist. Ryoga would never fight a woman, ever, but if he did, at least he'd give her punches a proper block.

"I was talking to you." Akane aims for his ribs with her free hand, but he lets go of the other one and twists out of the way with time to spare, the coward. Because he let her go so suddenly, Akane loses her balance, becomes a windmill. Ranma leans over her, a flash of dead fish in his face. Then it's gone. "Huh. And here I thought you were supposed to be the best martial artist in--"

Akane uppercuts him in the chin. Ryoga laughs, once--more of a cough, really--and he would do it again except for the sparkle on her upper lip.

And it is the sparkle that steals his breath, makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He's seen her flushed and dripping before, many times ("Should we get ready for beddy-bye, P-chan?"), but this is different. This is a whole universe of stars twinkling in the hollow under her nose--except it isn't, because stars are dead balls of gas and this is something alive, writhing like--

Writhing? Did he just think that? Oh, God. 

It's Ranma's fault, not taking his punches like a man. "Geez," he says, head cocked like a puppy's, "you even stink like a guy. Or a pig. Maybe you should fight Ryoga next."

"What?!" he bursts out before he can stop himself, and is immediately horrified. Akane will surely think he doesn't consider her worthy of him--that he's a bigger jackass than Ranma. But just as his heart of glass is about to explode into powder, she says, "That joke....hasn't been funny....since...ever!"

Her (armpit) forearm is raised now in a block, and Ryoga suddenly wishes he did fight women, because she only smells like shea butter or jasmine or strawberry for him ("Ryoga's a good friend," she had said, once), and it isn't fair that Ranma should have the smell of her.

Then they bow to each other, and she's leaning over him--bangs plastered to her forehead, crystal droplet dangling from her nose--and suddenly, it's his. Her smell is his.

It is vinegar and ginger and lilacs and punching-Ranma-in-the-nose ("like a guy," his steely buttocks), and he barely hears her say, "Welcome back, Ryoga. Would you like some tea?"

(" 'Welcome back'? He doesn't live here!"

("Oh, shut up, Ranma. You don't even say it to me.")

All he can think is that he would like to steep the vinegar and ginger and lilacs in water and drink it, but he manages to say, "Yes. Tea," and tries to smile. He's sure he looks like a (good friend) moron. But she smiles back anyway and as they leave the dojo together, he breathes her in as silently as possible. Ryoga doesn't fight women, not ever, but he might fight this one, if she asked.