A/N: Sorry 'bout that Tokyo thing in the last chapter; it was supposed to say America. Guess my brain was on cruise-control. Fixed now.

KINDA WARNING: This chapter has some extremely mild lemonade.

CHAPTER 8

Ranma was pacing

Back and forth, back and forth.

He'd started with the waiting room, but the small space wasn't enough to calm him down. So he'd started making laps around the floor. When that wasn't enough, he added the stairs and the floor below.

Two hours into Mousse's operation, his 'laps' had grown to cover the entire ten-floor hospital and part of the parking lot.

He was driving Akane crazy.

Especially since each lap was taking less than a minute.

"Ranma," Akane moaned as he started his 137th lap, "you're making me dizzy. Sit down for a few minutes."

"'M too nervous." Ranma replied, bouncing on one foot impatiently. "If I sit still, I may die. Was it supposed to take this long?!"

"Three and a half to four hours, Ranma. At the quickest. You don't want them to do some hurry-up job on Mousse, do you?"

"Of course not!" Ranma glared.

"Then calm down. It'll be over when it's over."

"Easy for you to talk." Ranma muttered. "Ryoga's right next to you."

Akane and Ryoga exchanged glances, and Ranma suddenly found himself pinned between them in a crushing hug.

"We know you're worried," Akane soothed, "it'll be all right."

"Yeah," Ryoga said, slightly embarrassed at being so mushy. "Mousse'll be fine."

"Yeah," Ranma pulled away from them, blushing slightly. "He'll be fine." He didn't look totally convinced.

But he did sit down.

*

People looked a lot smaller when they were in hospital beds. Even in rooms like this one, decorated for people who weren't really ill, who were there for specialized surgery like Mousse was. It might be bright and cheerful, with pictures on the walls and a vase of flowers, but it was still a hospital room.

And there were white bandages wrapped around Mousse's eyes.

That didn't help their sudden nervousness.

Mousse was still asleep, under the light anesthesia that made sure he wouldn't move during the delicate surgery. The nurse had told them he would wake up any time now, and it would help him if he knew they were here. Ranma swallowed nervously and moved to sit beside the bed, taking a limp hand in his. Akane and Ryoga sat together in the only other chair, Akane perched on her boyfriend's lap.

The nurse had been right - within a few minutes, Mousse stirred, moving his head restlessly on the pillow, black hair slipping down to puddle against his neck. Ranma gently stroked it back and Mousse's free hand caught his.

"R-ranma?" he whispered.

"Yeah. 'S me," Ranma said softly, letting go of Mousse's hand to stroke his cheek.

The slender white hand he had released lifted slowly, searching, and Ranma moved his head so the fingers bumped his chin. Mousse immediately began a hesitant exploration of his features, as though he didn't quite trust his ears with the truth of Ranma's voice.

After a long, quiet moment with delicate fingertips barely brushing Ranma's face, Mousse sighed. "Good," he whispered, and let his hand drop back to the bed.

Ranma shifted, feeling guilty and a little turned-on. The feathery touch of those fingers never failed to arouse him.

"Doctor... say any... thing yet?" Mousse was still very drowsy.

"Not yet."

"...kay." Mousse lay quiet for several moments, content to just lay still, his hand held firmly in Ranma's. Akane and Ryoga were satisfied just watching them, not worried about whether Mousse realized they were there yet.

The nurse came in and smiled at them. "Awake?"

"Yes." Mousse answered before any of the others could, his voice stronger than it had been before.

"Good!" She bustled over to the bed and quickly checked his vitals. "Very good! The doctor will be in to speak to you soon. You can have ice and water, but don't eat anything just yet. The anesthesia will leave you nauseous for awhile. Call me if you need anything." She vanished out the door.

A few more quiet minutes passed before the doctor came. At one point, Ranma got Mousse a glass of water, and at another point Akane's soft voice informed him that she and Ryoga were there.

Both incidents were replied to with the same appreciative humming noise.

The doctor came in, finally, and beamed at the teenagers before his eyes settled firmly on Mousse. He'd always been a bluntly-spoken person, and more than one patient had told him they appreciated the way he simply got to the point. He saw no need to change his ways now. These children wouldn't appreciate having things sugar-coated. "Well, son, you came through the surgery just fine, and I think you'll be pleased when those bandages come off. Now, I have good news and not so good news. Which do you want first?"

*

Two boys sat quietly in a dark room, neither willing to break the silence.

Mousse sat on his bed, dressed in loose pants and an oversized t-shirt. In the soft dimness, the bandages around his eyes were startlingly white.

Ranma sat with his back against the door, feeling the need to guard the room even though none of his enemies knew that he and his vulnerable love were in this dingy boardinghouse.

They'd left the hospital soon after the doctor had left the room. The nurses had been inclined to make Mousse stay longer, but the boy had insisted on leaving and he was an outpatient. They couldn't make him stay once the anesthesia had worn off.

Akane and Ryoga had gone reluctantly back to their respective homes, but Ranma knew he'd not see his own bed tonight. Not for a few days more, either. There was no way he was leaving Mousse until those bandages were off. No way at all...

"Five years." Mousse's soft voice was rather dazed.

"It's better than a couple of months," Ranma was more inclined to be cheerful. Five years was wonderful! "And then they'll try the surgery again."

"What if it doesn't work?" Mousse had thought he wasn't hoping for miracles with this operation, but now he realized his subconscious mind had been. The doctor had said he was very pleased with the results, that Mousse should have three or four years of very good eyesight, then some deterioration over the course of a year. Then he could have a repeat of the procedure, which would either be totally successful or have the same result.

Or leave him completely blind, but that was a very weak possibility. One in several hundred thousand, the doctor had said.

So he'd try his best not to worry about it.

A sudden dip in the mattress, a weight at his side, told him that Ranma had crawled onto the bed.

"You worry way too much," the younger boy teased him, then he felt firm, sweet lips press against his. He sighed and opened his mouth without any prompting, letting Ranma explore the hot wet depths as much as he liked.

And Ranma liked to a lot.

"You really taste good," he whispered, lifting his lips away after a long, pleasant moment of kisses.

"You do, too," came the even softer reply.

"Have you stopped worrying yet?"

"No."

Ranma sighed. "Okay. Then tell me what you're worrying about."

"Well... I have to pay Akane and Ryoga back, and save up for the next surgery, and even though five years is a lot better than not-quite one year, it still..."

"First off," Ranma interrupted, "It's we have to pay them back and save up, not just you. And Akane has some ideas about it that we were going to talk over with you the next time we saw you, but you were too busy with some surgery thing. And five years is great, and we're going to enjoy it. It's not like that's the length of time you have left to live, you know?"

Mousse was silent for awhile. "You're absolutely right," he finally answered, "and I'm going to try not to worry so much. Want to make out some more, instead?"

"Of course!" Ranma laughed, and pounced on him again.

*

Akane's idea, as it turned out, was more of a proposition. She and Ryoga had decided, after their recent experiences, that there were two kinds of eating establishments in Nerima. The kind with good food that you had to pay lots of money for, or the cheap kind with mediocre food. Well, really, there were four - you could pay good money for horrible food at the few 'status' restaurants in town, or pay a quarter for really crappy food.

So Akane proposed they start a restaurant of their own.

"With good food and reasonable prices. Nothing fancy. Like the Nekohanten, only - without the chaos. And with better decor."

Ryoga was looking for a good building in a nice location, while Ranma was beating himself over the head with schoolbooks, trying to get enough work done to graduate early, and Akane was going around trying to find out how much money they would have to borrow and who could loan it to them.

Mousse was trying to get used to sight.

Real sight, sharp and clear without the weight of glasses across his nose - and anyway, it was better than it had ever been when he'd worn glasses. The doctor had been rather disappointed that his vision wasn't even better, but Mousse was grateful.

He thought his brain would explode if he could see any better. He didn't know how other people could stand it.

There was so much detail in the world. Not even his latest pair of glasses had been strong enough to show him what he was seeing now. He couldn't get his brain to process it.

There were all these things that he had known only because his fingers had told him so - that hair was made up of millions of fine strands, that trees had thousands of separate and distinct leaves. He'd only had his ears, before, to tell him that rain was made of thousands of tiny drops of water. He kept getting caught up in little moments of sight; Akane turning her head and making her black hair dance around her shoulders, a sunbeam breaking through the clouds and beaming light down onto the earth, wind blowing over a field of grass and he could see all the blades bending and waving before the rush of air.

His friends were getting used to snapping their fingers in front of his face.

They didn't mind.

Mousse had agreed to Akane's restaurant plan almost before she'd finished telling him about it, more than happy at the idea of being the cook. He'd always secretly liked that part best; it was much nicer than dealing with irritable customers. He accepted Akane's word that she enjoyed being the wait-person. She could do that all she wanted to.

Ranma was slated for deliveries, Ryoga wanted to keep to his wandering ways but promised support when they needed it and to bring back unusual recipes.

Life was almost perfect.

Would have been perfect, if it hadn't been for Shampoo.

The lavender-haired maniac had followed Ranma one evening to see him meeting the other three in the park, where they'd talked for about a half an hour and then reverted to being teenagers and started chasing fireflies. She'd been stunned when she'd seen Mousse - it had taken her a few minutes to realize the lovely boy with the braid and the blue jeans was her former suitor - and then she'd realized he was chasing and catching the little lightening bugs with perfect ease.

And he wasn't wearing his glasses. They weren't even pushed to the top of his head like usual.

He could see.

That changed a few things. She'd gone running back to Cologne and the Nekohanten, where the two Amazon women had a long discussion that resulted in Shampoo appearing at the park the next day - she'd followed Ranma again - and informing them that as the future leader of her tribe, she was allowed as many 'airens' as she felt she needed. And she had decided to take both of them back with her.

She was a little insulted at the way they rolled on the ground, howling with laughter.

She'd tried ordering Mousse to stop and get up, and was angry when he didn't obey. She'd aimed a kick at him and Ranma had blocked it, then calmly threatened to rip her head off.

Something in his tone made her listen, for once.

She hadn't given up, though she had refrained from physical violence against Mousse, even when he made her furious at his continued disregard for her orders. She'd threatened to kick him out of the tribe and he reminded her of the many times she and Cologne had told him he was 'useless' and 'not worthy of being in their tribe' - he considered himself no longer a member, anyway, so he didn't have to listen to her.

Ranma had shouted with laughter at the dumbfounded look on her face, then slid his arm through Mousse's and they'd strolled off together.

Shampoo had retreated, wondering if she was going to be able to come up with a plan good enough to get both of the boys she now wanted.

*

Ranma and Mousse didn't care about Shampoo and her plans.

They went back to enjoying firsts.

The first time they shared a bed all night, although they did nothing more than some groping.

The first time they called the new apartment over the new restaurant 'home.'

The first time the kisses and touching after they were alone had led to something a little more serious...

That, by the way, was Ranma's absolute favorite first.

They had been painting the still-empty restaurant, trying to get it ready before the new month started. They were a little tired and covered with streaks and splotches of paint. Mousse had used the shower first - when Ranma came out after he was finished washing off, his koi was sitting on the bed, wearing a loose pair of pajama bottoms, his head bent over to brush the 'underneath' part of his hair.

The long black strands were like a waterfall of silk, so long it puddled on the floor. His elegant, pale-skinned back was curved slightly, showing the clean, smooth lines of his muscles. The motion of his strong, slender arms was mesmerizing.

Ranma had stared for thirty-seven long, slow seconds.

Then he pounced.

Mousse went from sitting on the edge of the bed to flat on his back on the mattress, with an enthusiastic whirlwind attached to his mouth, about six dozen hands exploring his body. He returned the favor with some exploration of his own.

They both got carried away, caught up in a blissful fog of passion. When they had come back to themselves - oddly enough, at almost the exact same moment - Ranma's towel had been thrown across the room and Mousse's baggy pants were around his ankles.

And they were grinding against each other in a very interesting way.

They'd blinked at one another for a moment, thought it over, and kept right on going.

Then tried a few other things.

Later, they lay curled up together like sleepy puppies, Ranma stroking Mousse's hair while Mousse drew circles on Ranma's stomach with a lazy finger. Both of them were perfectly content - neither felt any desire to talk.

If they had spoken, they would have discovered they were thinking pretty much the same thoughts.

That this was the best they'd ever felt.

The only time they had no trace of loneliness inside them.

And they weren't going to worry about the past or the future or the crazy people who wanted to rule their lives.

Who cared if they didn't know whether their story had a happy ending?

They had food, shelter, each other, and the certainty that it was going to have some sort of ending, and whatever it was, they would be together.

They were happy enough for now.

~owari~

These things always I must place;

The taste of your lips

The sound of your voice

The shape of your face...

- T.D. Rowe

- from the poem 'And They Blind Me'

A/N: Mousse's eye condition in this fic is a real condition. I don't know the medical name of it - it's about six yards long and would make a dandy tongue twister - but the six year old child my cousin adopted last year has it. It is caused by malnutrition during the formative years and can usually be corrected with surgery. Without surgery, your eyes get more painful and your vision gets worse until eventually you go blind. The surgery is usual outpatient and about 80% successful. The sooner it is done, the better. I thought it was easily a condition Mousse could develop, it also usually occurs when the eyes are already weak. As uncaring for Mousse as the 'Amazons' are portrayed in this anime/manga, I can stretch my imagination enough to see them neglecting a less-than-perfect child to the point he would be malnourished. I probably don't have every fact about the condition right.