Oceans

“Piccolo”

The former demon clenched his eyes and thought a very forceful “go-away” at whoever was talking to him. He didn’t know what time it was, but it sure as Hell felt too early to be getting up.

“Hey, Pic…c’mon. My arm’s asleep.”

‘Not my problem,’ Piccolo thought, curling into himself a little more pronouncedly, something like a hedgehog. He thought bristly thoughts.

“Y’can’t sleep all day, you know.”

‘Watch me,’ Piccolo thought, by now recognizing Son Goku’s voice. ‘Behold. Me…sleeping. All damn day if I want.’

“…I’ll tell Gohan you’re ticklish.”

One of Piccolo’s eyes snapped open. “I am not,” he growled.

Son Goku grinned down at him lazily. “Are too,” he said.

Wait a minute. Piccolo blinked, clearing the last filminess from his eyes. Realized, slowly and detachedly, that he was actually not curled around himself so much as around Son Goku – clinging to him, almost, like a child in a thunder storm. He scrambled back immediately, feeling his skin peel from the other as if reluctant to let go – and stared at Son Goku as if he’d never seen him before in his life.

Son was still on his back, partially under the covers…and Piccolo couldn’t help but see that the other’s pale skin bore a few faint bruises…a reddening mark or two. His stomach lurched.

Goku tilted his head at him. “Uh oh,” he said. “You’re not gonna flip out, are you?”

“Tell me,” Piccolo said, keeping his voice steady with a monumental effort, “this isn’t what it looks like.”

Goku looked down at himself…then over at Piccolo. Himself…Piccolo. Scratched his head. “Um…well, it’s not a slumber party,” he said.

For a moment, Piccolo could easily envision himself flipping out. Flailing arms, running around in circles, maybe even fainting dead away like some idiot female. But no, damnit, he’d never had hysterics before, and he wasn’t going to start now. Instead, he flopped onto his back, snagged a pillow, and pulled it over his head, concentrating avidly on his breathing. In…and out. Nice and slow. Don’t think about it…don’t hyperventilate.
Piccolo felt the bed shift nearby – knew that Son Goku had just rolled onto his side, a little closer to him. “I knew you were gonna be upset,” Goku said, his voice low, even reassuring.

The former demon did his best to block the other’s voice out entirely. ‘Alright,’ he thought. ‘Nice and easy. It can’t be that bad. You slept with Son Goku.’

It was that bad.

It was that bad because he really WAS attached to that idiot, because now he knew that. Because it never just stopped with sleeping with someone. Because from now on, every time he looked at him, he’d be remembering what he was like in bed.

Which by itself wouldn’t be so bad, maybe. A little distracting in a spar, sure. Maybe awkward at Capsule Corp picnics. But there were other problems. Like, oh, a wife. A son that Piccolo actually liked and who, incidentally, would probably not handle the idea of his father sleeping with his teacher any better than most seven-year-old boys would. And what the Hell were they going to tell any of them?

“Y’know,” Goku’s voice again, nearby. “It’s probably not as bad as you think it is.”

Piccolo did not remove the pillow. “How the Hell do you figure?” he asked, his voice muffled.

Son put his hand on Piccolo’s stomach…a light gesture that came as such a surprise to him that he jumped. “Well,” Goku said, beginning to rub slow, light circles. “I mean…things don’t have to be as weird as you think they do.”

“Son,” Piccolo growled, very pointedly ignoring the feeling of that palm on his body – and how naked he suddenly felt under that sheet. “In case it’s flown out of your damned empty head in the past few days – you’re married, I’m a megalomaniac, and our lives just turned into a really fucked up episode of Jerry Springer.”

“Jerry Who?” Goku asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Deciding that punching his former rival in the face was not going to solve anything (no matter how nice it might feel), Piccolo took a deep breath. He planned to let it out slowly, through a ten-count. This effort failed when he felt the Saiyan’s lips brush over the pink patch on his abdominals; all the air left his lungs in a sudden whoosh.

Goku chuckled. “Would you relax?” he said.

“Relax!” Piccolo hissed, sitting up, tossing the pillow aside. “Are you OUT of your mind?”

Goku tilted his head at him…sprawled on his side, still, and visibly confused by Piccolo’s distress. “Y’know, Pic, you ask me that all the time – but you never actually give me time to answer it.”

Piccolo slapped his hand over his eyes. “It’s rhetorical,” he said. “You remember rhetorical?”

“That ‘what are you doing with my wife’ thing?”

Piccolo put his second hand over his eyes right along with the first one. “That’s the one,” he said. He tried very hard to convince himself that curling up in the fetal position under the bed actually WOULD further damage his dignity.

…he felt a light touch on his arm…a shifting on the bed, and then Son was sitting up beside him, a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said. His voice filled up with worry. A light shake. “Hey, are you alright? I didn’t think you’d freak out this bad.”

Calm. He needed to be calm. Piccolo took another deep breath. “Son,” he said. “What now? Did you ever think about that?”

A heavy pause. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“What now,” he said again. He did not look up yet. “When we get back to earth, you’re going to want to go back to your family, and what the Hell are you going to tell them? M’pretty sure your wife didn’t like me before, and…what about Gohan?”

“Actually…I wasn’t gonna tell them anything.”

At that, Piccolo did look up. Turned his head and stared at Son Goku so hard he was surprised that he didn’t accidentally blast him with his eye lasers. He didn’t LOOK like he was joking. The Saiyan was kneeling there, right beside him, brown eyes slightly arched with concern…but there was no trace of humor there.

“What?” Piccolo asked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to ask.

“You’re right, Pic,” he said. “Chichi wouldn’t understand, and Gohan, well…he’s too young, I think.”

Piccolo blinked. “So what – we just…we act like this never happened?”

Goku grinned at him, but with a caution he didn’t usually use – he touched his arm as if he were made of eggshells. “I think we both know that’s impossible, Pic. And I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”

Piccolo opened his mouth, closed it again. “You mean…you want…” he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore.
“I mean,” Goku said, and then he touched his cheek with that weirdly soft hand of his, “that…well…no matter what your head’s telling you right now, you wanted this, and I did too. So why pretend we didn’t? That just gets you in trouble.”

“But your f…”

The hand that had been on Piccolo’s cheek slid down, covered his mouth. “I mean…maybe we should just see what happens.”

Piccolo reached up, closed his hand over the other’s wrist, slid his hand out of the way. “But…you’re married,” he said, and even to his ears, it was a pretty feeble protest. He realized the irony of his statement almost immediately. He, the demon king, was concerned about having an affair because it violated marital sanctity. What the Hell was the world coming to?

Goku blinked at him. “And?” he said.

Piccolo stared at him blankly. “And,” he said. “Son, you…I…you know that you’re supposed to do the whole fidelity thing, right? It’s part of being married.”

Goku leaned back against the headboard, regarding Piccolo curiously. “Fid…um…is that like getting a job?”

This, Piccolo decided, could NOT be happening. “No, it’s…damnit, Son, I KNOW they covered this at the wedding…weren’t you listening during the ceremony?”

The Saiyan averted his eyes, a faint flush coming up over the bridge of his nose. He put his hand behind his head. “Well…I tried to. I mean, I started out pretty well, but…y’know, it was one of those days, birds everywhere, nice weather, and…well, there was food right over on the table, so…? The Saiyan averted his eyes, a faint flush coming up over the bridge of his nose. He put his hand behind his head. “Well…I tried to. I mean, I started out pretty well, but…y’know, it was one of those days, birds everywhere, nice weather, and…well, there was food right over on the table, so…”

At first, Piccolo was pretty sure he was going to be angry. Then, he thought he was going to be annoyed. Then, he thought he was going to punch himself in the face and see if he was still dreaming. But then…then he felt something else…a weird tickling in the gut that wasn’t chi. He recognized it a split second before it happened, but it was too late. He leaned over his legs…and he started to laugh, just a low chuckle at first.

Goku looked really and truly alarmed. “Piccolo – hey, Pic.” He put both hands on his shoulders, shook him. “Pic, snap out of it, c’mon, you’re starting to scare me.”

Piccolo made a real effort to get himself back together. It was not easy. Breate in, breathe out – think about purple elephants. No, purple elephants are funny. Think about…think about King Kai’s jokes. Okay, all better. Piccolo smirked over at Son Goku, feeling a bit more like his old self. “Alright,” he said. “We’ve figured that Saiyans don’t mate for life, and you’ve got the attention span of a flea. Now I got maybe two more questions for you.”

“Okay,” Goku said, sitting back a little, and still eyeing Piccolo with some concern. “What are they?”

“My first is,” he said, holding up a finger. “How in the Hell do you know NOTHING about marriage, and all this about gay sex.”

“Um…well, Master Roshi, I guess,” Goku said, putting a hand behind his head.

The wheels in Piccolo’s head screeched to an abrupt halt. He knew that Goku had trained with the old master Kamesennin when he was a boy and, especially thanks to his own sire, he had a pretty good grip on the old man’s reputation as something of a pervert. But he hadn’t thought…not ever…

“Oh,” Goku said – apparently noticing the look on Piccolo’s face. “Oh, sorry…not like that,” he said, a massive sweatdrop appearing at his temple.

Piccolo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Then how,” he said, tone short.

“Um…he had a pretty big video collection. And some of them were…well…”

Piccolo held up a hand. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, enough.” Questions, he decided, could be very, very dangerous. He was never getting some of those images out of his head. But still, he had another. “So...how many times have you done this. With people who aren’t your wife.”

Goku tilted his head at him. “Just this once,” he said.

And that wasn’t what Piccolo had been expecting, either. “Just one time,” he said. “With me.”

Goku nodded.

“Not Bulma, not Yamcha, not the runt, not any of your other little posse?”

Goku chuckled, “Piccolo…you’re not getting jealous, are you?” He sounded amused.

Piccolo growled. “I do NOT get jealous,” he said. “I just…I wanted to know.”

“Right,” Goku said, wearing his I-don’t-believe-you grin.

“I don’t,” Piccolo growled again – realizing simultaneously that he didn’t sound very convincing, and that his face was heating up again. He quickly looked away. “It’s just…why me.”

“Well…I dunno, Pic. I know that’s not the answer you want, but I don’t know.”

“Just…impulse?” the Namekian ventured.

“No, not like that.” Piccolo felt the Saiyan move again and bit the inside of his cheek. A second later, he felt the other’s chin come to rest on his shoulder – his chest press against his back. “It was more like…like…”

Piccolo kept still, didn’t interrupt, not even when the room went suddenly, awkwardly quiet. “…like when we were on Namek, and I thought you were dead…something just went wrong inside me.”

Piccolo blinked. “And then…”

“Yeah…that’s how it happened. The whole Super Saiyan thing.” Wryly, “Gold hair and all.”

Piccolo could not quite understand what that meant. But he had an inkling. And it made him suddenly very cold inside, cold enough to shudder. “Son, I…”

The Saiyan kept talking. “And then, later…here, when I was kinda taking care of you, I just…there was a lot about you that I didn’t know. Like that you’ve never had anybody hold you before. Or that you’re…well…lonely.”

Piccolo’s eyes clenched involuntarily – and just when the Hell had this gotten serious? – feeling an odd twist happen in his chest. “Son,” he said, more forcefully than he meant to. “I’m not…”

“…So I wanted to help you, and…well, the rest just kind of happened,” the Saiyan finished quietly. “And when I figured out you wanted me, I just kind of thought…why not?”

“…it was that obvious?”

“Well…not usually. But I mean, the way you were looking at me right after that whole nosebleed thing…m’not very bright sometimes, but even I can’t miss that.”

Piccolo slumped, slightly. “Y’don’t see it, do you? We’re NOT going to be able to hide this. Someone’s gonna notice. And then what?”

Goku chuckled. “Pic,” he said, “you got a real good poker face, y’know? And I promise not to bring you flowers or anything. Nobody’ll know. And if they do…well, we’ll worry about it then, okay?”

It made a lot of sense…an alarming amount of sense. Or at least, Piccolo thought it did. But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he was willing to agree with this logic because it was good, or because…because the thought of never touching the other again was almost physically painful.

‘Good job, Piccolo,’ he thought sourly. ‘Get involved with somebody for ONE day, and already you’re thinking with your dick. Keep this up, you’ll be human in no time.’

Only that wasn’t it, not completely – and on some level, Piccolo knew it. On some level, he thought it might actually be better if his dick WAS what he was thinking with, because that was simple, direct, and could be sated. No. This was different. This was…

Son kissed him right behind his ear, which sent his thoughts scattering like so many dark-winged butterflies. “Careful,” Piccolo growled. “That’s the kind of thing that got us into this mess in the first place.”

“Yeah, I know.” A lick, right there behind the curve of his ear. Piccolo shuddered.

“Son,” he growled, starting to sit up – but he was stopped by a hand around his waist.

“Shh,” the Saiyan said. And kissed the back of his neck.

Piccolo turned his head to look at him – he wasn’t sure why. To assess him, to tell him that no was NO, or to tell him to bite a little next time. It could’ve been anything. But he found himself nose to nose with the other, and just like that, he was kissing him.

And this time it was slow. Lazy, almost; a slow push, slide of tongues on each other…his eyes drifted shut of their own accord, and there was nothing but that.

It was Son who finally broke the kiss, and grinned at him. “If you pick up fighting that fast, m’glad you’re on our side now.”

Piccolo smirked – trying to forget the tingle on his lips. “Don’t count on that,” he said.

Goku chuckled. “Right, right, gonna kill me someday – I got it.” He sat up, a little gingerly. “Now I don’t know about you, but I think m’ready to get up…I need a bath, and some food’d be good.” Son swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. Much more slowly than usual. Paused for a moment, leaned against the bedpost.

Piccolo blinked as it dawned on him that his shipmate was…well, something wasn’t right. “Are you…” he bit off the rest of his question.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Goku offered him a wry grin over his shoulder. “Just a little stiff is all.” He took a step forward and promptly fell over – would have hit the ground if Piccolo hadn’t gotten there first.

Rather than become alarmed at this turn of events, Goku chuckled. “Sorry,” he said. “Guess my legs aren’t as good as I thought they were.”

Piccolo sat back on the bed, pulled the other down with him. Those marks he had seen earlier were no myth…and there were enough brusies and faint prick-marks around the other’s hips that he was surprised he hadn’t broken them.

He hadn’t honestly intended to be that rough with him. Carefully, he drew a thumb over one particular mark…right at the top of the thigh…and shook his head.

Goku peered up at him through his bangs…offered him another one of those knee-buckling smiles. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said.

Piccolo gave him an incredulous look.

“No, Pic...seriously. It’s just…I’m a little sore, is all,” he said. “From..” slight blush. “You know.” He paused a second, then said, “You didn’t hurt me.”

Piccolo nodded, but…on some level, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d done the other some kind of wrong. No matter that Son Goku was stronger, maybe, than he’d ever be. No matter that TRYING to hurt him hadn’t worked out all that well. Son just…well, looked fragile next to him, so much smaller, wrapped just in that pale, soft skin.

Piccolo stood up and didn’t say anything – talking would’ve made it more awkward. Instead, he slid both of his hands under the Saiyan and lifted him as easily as some parents lift very small children. He found that he liked the weight of him.

The startled look on Goku’s face was almost comical. But he didn’t comment either. He seemed to know better.

The two of them left the room in near-perfect silence. Piccolo tried not to let himself think of this as symbolic, a carrying-over-the-threshold. A change.

But that’s what it was.