Warning!: Crack pairing! (Is it really?) The REAL reason that Ranma and Ryoga fight in the morning... By: Hayley
Ryoga strolled into the Tendo's kitchen, just in time to see Ranma finish off a bag of salt-n-vinagar chips. " Damn you Ranma!! Why're you such a frigin' idgit?! " The war was on again. Ranma looked up, completely not understanding why the pig boy had just yelled at him. " You ate my chips!! " Ranma stood up, glaring at Ryoga. " We'll maybe I wouldn't have ate your stupid chips if they weren't just laying there on the counter! It's not like this is YOUR HOUSE you know!! " Every time they yelled back it was a dare. A dare to push to the inevitable. " Shut up you morron!! It's not your house EITHER!! " " Hey! Who do you think you're callin' a morron buddy?! you can't walk two blocks without getting lost!! " By now they were yelling right in eachothers faces. The fighting always continued untill one finally caved. It was a ' winner takes all ' battle. " I sill can't believe you ate every last chip, it was a FULL BAG!! You're even more of a pig than- " " What Ryoga? YOU? " " Nooo, I was going to say ' your whorish girl side ' !! " Fighting fair? Who needed it! This WAS combat after all. And everyone knows in any type of fight you go for the weak-spot. " You take that back Ryoga!! " " Feh! Not a chance you pansy!! Not until you say you're sorry about eating my chips!! " The demand for the surrender hung thick in the air. A sigh excaped Ranma and he stepped back in defeat, decidedly making the self-excuse that it was ' to early ' . The white flag had been raised. " Yeah yeah. whatever. " Suddenly Ryoga pulled Ranma forward, cupping his chin. " That makes you uke today! " Ranma sneered. " Good for you. Ryoga - for once in like forever, Me - so many times I've lost count. " Ryoga simply smirked, placing a kiss on Ranma's chapped lips. " Don't make an even bigger ass of yourself uke. " Ranma growled and puched Ryoga. " You dumb jerk-face!! " Pretty soon the sound of an all-out frenzy of blows had the intire Tendo house-hold up from their beds and into the kitchen, placing bets on who would win. Because some wars wadged forever.