in the middle, somewhat elevated
"What do you think is taking Vegeta so long?"
There was something about Goku's voice that made Bulma glance up from the table where she was busy pouring herself a glass of white wine.
"Well, we have some time until dinner," she said, checking her wristwatch before going back to pour. And pour. And pour – enjoying the pleasant sound of the liquid bouncing against the curvature of the glass. She rolled her eyes thinking about Vegeta's excruciating slowness with everything that was considered normal and sighed. "He's probably still in the shower."
"Oh."
This time, Goku's voice definitely caught in his throat and Bulma knew she had to give her undivided attention to her old friend or else she would regret it for the rest of her life – something was up, it was official. Something sketchy. And interesting. But mostly sketchy – if what had happened earlier on the green couch of her laboratory was anything to go by.
God, Bulma thought, shaking her head and then taking a sip of her wine, glaring at Goku over the rim of the glass. That had been weird. Granted, Son Kun was usually a pretty unpredictable guy, but one thing was for sure: Son Kun did not flirt. He just did not – he had never shown interest in that kind of stuff – regrettably – not once, not now, not ever, so there had to be another perfectly logical reason for him to spend the afternoon seated next to Vegeta, thighs against thighs, arm almost wrapped around her husband's shoulders, talking in his ears and giggling like an idiot. Bulma scowled and took another sip of wine. Like an idiot school-girl.
And Vegeta just sat there, letting him.
And now they were going to spend three years in each other's company. In the middle of nothing and nowhere.
Those assholes.
Bulma huffed to herself, running a finger up and down the stem of her glass as she pensively examined the Saiyan standing in front of her through narrowed eyes.
For all the unwarranted excitement he had shown earlier, Goku was now uncharacteristically sullen; he was leaning back against the balcony, all his weight on his elbows, and was staring at nothing, a thoughtful look on his face, eyes a little bit narrower than usual, his mind obviously somewhere else. It was an expression Bulma had never seen on Goku; it went past dumbstruck into – lovestruck.
But that's just insane, she thought, shaking her head and scoffing to herself – wondering what Son Kun was thinking would drive Bulma crazy. And it wasn't like she could just ask. That would be weird other than insane. And suspicious. And awkward. And weird. No, what she had to do to expose Son Kun's agenda was to act like a silent cobra: the smart tactic was to take the indirect approach and rustle up a clinical trial to measure and compare Goku's levels of touchy-feelness. Yes! Of course! He wouldn't know what hit him – no wonder she was a genius, Bulma thought, a smug smile slowly spreading on her face.
She took a large swallow from her chalice, set it aside for later and then, her shoulders straight and her head high, with measured steps she sashayed away from the table to go stand beside Goku. Close. Very close, but not that close – the outlines of their bodies were barely brushing against each other. Goku sent her a brief, quizzical glance but other than that, he did not move from his almost stranded position against the railing. Bulma wasn't worried, though – her experiment was still at time zero. She figured she could give it at least five minutes to see if Goku's weird, inappropriate and untimely loss of any sense of personal space applied to everyone or just to – the one.
She was optimistic, though – any moment and Goku's inherent tomfoolishness would get the best of him; he was just bound to say or do something wacky, she was pretty sure.
A few seconds went by in complete silence and Bulma sent a furtive glance to Goku's profile. His eyelashes were casting dark shadows on his cheeks and his lips were relaxed, but still unsmiling – Bulma scowled as her eyes lingered on his arm, on the muscles tense and sleek under the skin. He had a surprisingly good scent – woodsy but clean. Bulma cleared her throat. Nothing happened and she looked away with a haughty snort.
Another moment stretched by. The evening was still warm, the heat of the day was reluctant to leave West City but, after a few more moments, Bulma's skin started to tingle for some reason and she scooted a little bit closer, suddenly in need to make contact with the other's skin. Nothing. Goku didn't notice and Bulma leaned her weight against the balcony and looked down with a casual sigh. Nothing. Suddenly agitated, Bulma bit her lower lip; she switched her weight from one leg to another, she cast another sidelong glance at her friend, she drummed the palms of her hands on the top of the railing. Nothing. He wasn't even looking at her and Bulma felt her left eye starting to twitch, her pulse beating oddly in her throat – the clinical trial was bullshit.
"Ok, what are you pouting about?"
"Huh?" Goku said, blinking at Bulma's scowling face. "What?"
"You're weirding me out! You're standing there like a dog waiting for his owner and you know what, it's weird!" Bulma barked, all in one breath. And you haven't invaded my personal space once, she thought and the thought made her head explode – she blushed so hard that her temples started to pound from all the blood rushing to her face. "You're weird!" she yelled.
Goku scratched his cheek with one finger. "Huh…"
"Why don't you go home?" Bulma said. "I'm pretty sure Chi-Chi will blow a gasket if you don't show your face sooner rather than later. I'll say goodnight to Vegeta for you if that's what you're worried about," she concluded passive-aggressively and she finally saw Goku's cheeks flush a little and she squinted, but before she could say anything about it, Goku covered whatever uneasiness he was feeling with a crisp, clear laugh.
"Nah, I can wait for Vegeta no problem!" he said waving a hand, his face animated, an oddly naughty sparkle suddenly appearing behind his eyes. Bulma faintly thought it looked good on him – but she was damned if she was going to stop glowering daggers at him, even if the idiot was obviously oblivious because he was giggling in the silliest and shadiest way she had ever seen. "If Chi-Chi gets mad I just have to use my secret weapon and everything will be juuuust fine," Goku explained and he flashed Bulma a cheeky smile and an even cheekier victory sign with his fingers. "Hehehe."
Bulma felt her soul leave her body. A vein popped on her forehead. "Your what?" she croaked, staring at Goku with eyes big as saucers.
Goku raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, my secret weapon," he said again. "A picture of Pan, what did you think I meant? A kamehameha?"
"That's..." Bulma swallowed dry and looked away to gather herself. "One way to put it," she muttered under her breath.
Goku missed it entirely. He shrugged and explained. "You see, whenever I sense any danger coming from Chi-Chi I just have to pull out this picture where Pan's smiling and she has these two cute little teeth here in the front, right?" he said, all business, as though he was actually explaining a secret martial art technique to his pupil. "And poof! Chi-Chi starts going crazy about it and she forgets she was yelling at me in the first place! Pretty neat, huh?" he finished with a wink. Then, out of nowhere, he sighed deeply and let his glance meander all around the balcony. "But anyway, when do you think Vegeta's coming out?"
Bulma wished she could just unsee the spaced out, yearning look that had just crossed Goku's eyes. She could not believe her own eyes – or her ears for that matter.
"Poof?" she yelled, glad she had a tangible reason to do so. "Poof?! Are you kidding me? Are you saying you use your barely one-year-old granddaughter as a human shield against your wife instead of taking responsibility for your actions? Really Son Kun? Do you know how bad that sounds? And anyway just what is this nonsense? What, you're gonna die if you spend a couple of hours away from your –
Bulma stopped talking abruptly. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"
Goku nodded, his eyes alarmingly wide and dazed. "I don't know."
Bulma narrowed her eyes to slits. "You don't know if you're listening?" she said, an edge of disbelief in her voice. "You don't know if you'll survive? I'm onto you, Son Kun!" she roared. "Start talking!"
"I…" Goku gulped, then he shook his head forcefully and before Bulma knew it there was a huge, tense grin on his face, a grin that threatened to split his stupid mug in two. "...think you're right, I have to go!" he said and he dashed madly toward the french windows, leaving Bulma to stand beside the railing like a complete moron. He turned his head to speak over his shoulder. "Catch you tomorrow, or around or – bye!"
"Oh, no, not so fast!"
Bulma leaped. A jump so impressive that it came as a surprise even to herself and she glomped Goku from behind, almost tackling him to the floor. Goku yelped and the two of them stumbled as he doubled over – the opportunity to put him in a choke-hold gleamed in front of Bulma and she took it – she looped one arm around his neck and with her other hand she pushed his head into the crook of her elbow.
"Ow, Bulma!" Goku whined. "What are you doing!?"
Bulma growled, baring her teeth. "Oh, shut up, I know I'm not actually hurting you!" she said and she jostled his upper body around a little, purposefully ignoring his weak and unconvincing-to-her-ears 'you are!', before leaning closer to the side of his face. "We're friends, right?" she hissed, her teeth and breath just grazing his ear, teasing and tickling.
Goku's whole frame shuddered and he stopped squirming. "Right…" he replied warily, his answer coming out like in a question.
"And friends tell each other everything," Bulma continued, not loosening her hold around his neck. "So if you're going to steal my husband from me for the next three years, the least you can do is look me in the eyes and say so – hey!"
Bulma hadn't even finished the sentence that Goku had effortlessly freed himself from the choke-hold, straightening his back and spinning around to face her, all in one perfect, swift move. "Nu-uh!" he said, a big, beaming smile on his stupid face, holding a stupid finger in front of Bulma's face, finger that was promptly swatted away. "Three days!"
"Ah-ha!" Bulma screamed, almost in exultance, because it looked like she was right and she loved being right even when it was detrimental to her own interests. She poked an accusing finger right in the middle of Goku's chest. "So you are planning on stealing Vegeta!"
"What?" Goku said, his eyes enormous. "No! I was just being – what's that word?"
"A douchebag?" Bulma said, with another poke at his chest. Goku grabbed her wrist to stop her and, in retaliation, she tried but failed to kick him in the shins.
"Accurate!" Goku said, poking the tip of her nose with his free hand. "I was being accurate! Isn't that what you like?"
Bulma knew Goku didn't necessarily mean anything by that; but standing there trying to wrestle him, while he towered over her, while his hand was still closed around her wrist, with a little kick in her stomach she was suddenly reminded of how her heart had never really stopped racing since their bodies brushed together for the first time that night.
She tipped her head back to better look at Goku and she rolled her eyes at the beauty of those black eyes.
"What?" Goku inquired, raising his eyebrows.
Bulma huffed. Suddenly she was back at being a twenty-something years old staring in wonder for the first time at the weird creature in front of her, daydreaming about the adventures they could go on together and wondering what it could be like if. And, god help her, sometimes she still wanted to have it, all of it – to live the daydream, the shiver, the tension of walking on a thin line, the thrill of the adventure violent and unmitigated on her skin.
The clinical trial really was bullshit.
"What do you know about what I like?" Bulma said, and though she was doing her best to look calm and somewhat collected, her heart was thumping in her chest so loud she could hear it.
"Hum…" Goku let go of her wrist and drew back a little, the flush from earlier back on his cheeks. "Not much?" he said and Bulma closed the distance between them again.
"I agree! For instance," she continued, lifting her chin and looking square into his eyes. "I've always liked you, Son Kun. Did you know that?"
"Hehehe," Goku's little giggle was strained thin. He averted her gaze, looking right, left, up, down, then he gulped, he scratched the back of his head. "W-what do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," Bulma said.
For a moment, Goku frowned, he blinked, seemingly still unsure of what he'd just heard. Bulma just kept looking at him and then, without thinking, she reached out with a hand, letting her fingertips trail down Goku's upper arm in a gentle, almost drowsy movement. Goku gasped faintly in surprise. He swallowed noisily.
"…it tickles…" he said in a soft gasp, so soft that Bulma wouldn't have heard it if they hadn't been touching.
"I've always really, really liked you, Son Kun," Bulma said again in a low murmur. She didn't stop running her finger on his arm and she never took his eyes off his face – and Goku amazingly didn't back down from the stare. His glance was open, filled with curiosity. She had dreamt about it once, a long time ago – to have Goku's eyes all for herself. And to think that Vegeta, of all people, had that kind of attention, that kind of puppy-like shameless adoration – it was crazy. She was jealous. Not just jealous of her husband; she was jealous of it all. She wanted it all too, the eyes, the grins, the laughs, the way they unbelievably got each other with a glance. She wanted all of that and maybe she wanted more a little bit more.
Goku's taste. His skin.
Bulma bit her lower lip and smiled a little – she could feel the goosebumps rising on Goku's skin under the feathery touch of her fingertips. It was an odd, exhilarating sensation – the feeling of his skin crackling with electricity under her hand.
She inched a little closer still, and then closer. Goku didn't move even though he could have. He was staring – his lips parted, his eyes wide. Then he lifted a hand to her face, touching her cheek, caressing it slowly, looking at it like he had never seen it before. Bulma swallowed dry. Whatever was going on was making her suddenly very aware of the heat of that summer night, of her clothes on her skin.
Her breath quivered, she exhaled through her open mouth – Goku's hand slid down her neck, slowly, and to her collarbone, and then on her breast and she gasped sharply when a sensation like fireworks exploded all across her skin – it was pleasure, sure, but aching, pulsating in her bones – Goku's eyes didn't change. They were clear and curious, unlike anything she had ever seen before – he ran his hand down her side, on her waist – then slowly past her hips, down her thigh, lingering, and when his fingers finally reached the inside of her thighs, scraping slowly on her blue jeans – it was like an electric shock. Like a bell ringing in her ears.
"God…" she breathed softly, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt the desire rising violently from the base of her spine and outward, making her shudder, and shiver – she was already wet. It was his turn now to be tortured to death – she reached with a hand again and traced with her fingers the blue sash fastened around his waist and then she traveled down, until her palm was hovering right above the crotch of Goku's pants and trembling with tension – Bulma felt Goku's breath hitch and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She ran her hand down Goku's cock, and up, and then down again, feeling as it throbbed and tightened beneath the orange fabric in response to her. Goku whined faintly, his eyes going wide and then fluttering shut and Bulma glanced down; she saw the erection straining from the inside against the crotch of his baggy pants – she stopped and slowly, slowly trailed her palm upward, on Goku's stomach, and then up to his exposed chest, smoothing his skin, feeling the muscles – and she knew it was an unbearably frustrating treatment when Goku let out the most erotic, helpless moan.
Oh, yes. Bulma smiled in satisfaction – then she felt Goku's hands under her white t-shirt; he could hold her entire waist in his two hands. He picked her up effortlessly so that their faces were at the same level, the tips of their noses touching and Bulma snaked her arms around his neck.
"Will you guys think about me in the Room of Spirit and Time?" she breathed, and she closed her eyes, feeling his hot breath fanning all over her face – she was flying and they were about to kiss, she knew they were, she parted her lips in anticipation–
"Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!"
Bulma fell flat on her ass with a loud, painful thud. Her eyes snapped open and the first thing she saw was Goku rolling on the floor holding his left cheek.
"Ow!" was all he could say. "Ow ow ow!"
"What the hell?!" Bulma yelled, annoyed beyond reason. She got to her knees and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sudden glaring, blue light that was trying to pierce a burning hole through her retinas. Huh, that's weird, she thought faintly. What is this, a crime scene? Squinting, she craned her neck to look up tentatively –
"Ow ow ow ow ow ow!"
"Vegeta!" Bulma gasped.
And there was Vegeta – in all his Super Saiyan Blue glory, hovering above the balcony, bathrobe swirling around his legs. His blue aura was flashing and flaring all around him and everything about his posture said he was a tense line of heat and outrage – his arm was still stretched, his fist still clenched after the punch – now Bulma was sure – he had gently delivered to Goku's cheek.
Bulma felt her insides freeze over as she took in her husband's murderous expression while he touched down on the floor. "Vegeta, wait! I can explain!" she said breathlessly, jumping to her feet, but Vegeta ignored her altogether, much to her dismay. "Hey!"
"You…" Vegeta roared, hauling Goku to his feet and slamming him hard against the wall. Bulma winced at the sound of the impact and she watched with eyes out of their orbits as the wall around Goku started to crack and fall apart.
She gasped. "My house!"
"Hey, Vegeta!" Goku yelped, a large, dopey smile spreading on his face while the Super Saiyan Blue grasped his shoulders and slammed him against the wall a second time.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't skin you alive, right here, right now!" he said, planting his face merely inches from Goku's. Oh, no, not good, Bulma thought. Goku's eyes held the same glint of wonder and curiosity she had seen a moment ago – and she could suddenly feel in her bones what was about to happen next.
A moment went by–
Bulma tried to squeeze her head between her hands–
Goku closed the space to Vegeta's face–
And crushed their mouths together roughly and desperately.
Bulma's jaw went slack.
"Oh… my... god…"
Bulma blinked watching the scene unfold before her eyes. The curve of their profiles fitting together, the way their eyes were squeezed shut in the exact same way – the way Goku's fingers were clutching Vegeta's shoulders tightly – Bulma tried to breathe deeply. She felt like dying, but at the same time she couldn't stop her brain from formulating an unrestrained thought –that – it was –
Delicious.
Goku drew back, leaning his head against the wall – he smiled, a little shy, a little boyish, while Vegeta was panting out careful, measured breaths through his open mouth. His face was red, there was a vein popping in the middle of his forehead – he was fixing Goku with a very strange stare. Disgusted maybe? Scared? Or was it unyielding rage? Or – hunger? Bulma shook her head in disbelief. She came to the conclusion that Vegeta looked petrified. And she also came to the conclusion that if Son Kun valued his own life he'd better run now, but what happened next made her head explode for the third time in the span of a half an hour.
Vegeta cupped Goku's face, and slowly, imperceptibly, he started inching toward him. Goku looked galvanized – Bulma could practically feel the erratic beat of his heart, she could see the air sizzling in the space between their mouths, that space that was getting progressively, inexorably smaller – and Vegeta did kiss him again. Tentatively, at first, lips against lips – then Goku parted his lips and Vegeta unfurled his tongue into his mouth, sucking the breath out of him.
Bulma's heart was in her throat – overwhelmed, all she could hear were the hungry sounds of love, yes love, and lust Vegeta was making, the liquid swish of the tongues wrestling with each other. It was a sensation somewhere in the middle, between pleasure and pain, between a slap and a caress – she felt a familiar warmth spread in between her legs when Goku, never breaking off the kiss, smoothed his hands over Vegeta's hips, when he cupped his ass, gripping the muscle with his fingers.
A moment later, or a lifetime later, they broke apart, breathing heavily. Bulma let out a shuddery sigh.
"I…" Vegeta was saying. It was a low growl purring from his throat that Bulma had never heard before. "You… Kakarot..."
He sounded like a wolf, she thought, ready to bite at any moment – and Goku – Goku had this blissfully happy expression – Bulma wanted to get closer. To make contact. She felt her legs moving and her mouth emitting sounds before she even had a chance to wire her brain.
"Hey, hey, hey!" she said, going to stand beside the pair. "Come on Vegeta, there's no need to get all worked up," Bulma let out an high-pitched laugh and patted Goku on the chest and Vegeta on the back. "Let's aaall be really nice to each other, I'm sure Son Kun didn't mean anything by–
Bulma stopped talking abruptly. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"
It took a lot of effort, it seemed, for Vegeta to unglue his eyes from Goku's face, it was like they were having a silent conversation. Eventually, Vegeta fixed his ice-blue eyes on her. Bulma bit her lower lip and smiled - she felt Goku's black eyes on her face as well.
"You were saying?" Vegeta drawled, and the weird, cunning interest in the eyes of the two Saiyans made Bulma's heart start tumbling in her chest all over again.
Bulma swallowed dry. She shrugged. A sly smile slowly spread across her face. She nodded.
"I'm game if you are."
Bulma woke up, wet between her legs.
The first she was aware of was the pain in her lower back – she looked around, bewildered – she saw the green couch to her right, no one was sitting on it and there was a piece of paper sticking to her cheek. She yanked it off and squinted against the bright daylight – she groaned. She had fallen asleep at her desk.
"Oh, god..." she moaned, rubbing her hands all over her face. When she lowered it, she was greeted by the cheerful face of Son Kun standing way too close to her for her likenings–
"Sweet dreams?" he asked.
Bulma stared for a moment, jaw-slacked, her cheeks burning – then she ground her teeth. Her eyes were twitching, her hands were tingling–
"SON KUN!" she exploded and, focusing all her strength into her right hook, she socked Goku right in his left cheek, sending him reeling and spinning backward. Then, with an indignant huff, she twirled on her heels and stomped out of the laboratory.
"Ow!" Goku whined, holding both his hands to his offended cheek. "What did I do now?"
Vegeta let out a haughty snort. "Whatever, Kakarot," he drawled, crossing his arms on his chest. "You deserved that either way."
Author's note: well, I missed writing Goku and Bulma together together, so I came up with this silly thing based on the infamous green couch scene of DBS! Let me know if you liked it or hated it or if you were indifferent to it if you want!:D Bye... for now! XD