Pillow

By The Chichi Slaughter House

Warnings: BrollixNappa, shounen ai, oneshot, based on dakimakura pillows, not much else.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or any of its characters.

Written for lordofthepies, whose birthday it was yesterday, and because she inspired it with her talk of hugging pillows. I apologise for the lack of smut.

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Down in hell, Nappa was having a problem. It was not any sort of normal problem, either. By name, it was Brolli; whose arms were wrapped snugly around his waist with his body pressed up against his back. Struggling in the grip yet again, the bald Saiyan recalled how it had all happened.

Life in this place was always unpleasant; the temperature ranged from freezing to burning hot with very little alternative, there was almost never any food to eat, and the other members spent a lot of time bitching or trying to fight each other, so the noise level was unbearable at times. He'd been jeered at, beaten to a pulp, burnt and frozen several times a day, but to be used as a pillow? That felt like an all new low, and a worse punishment than hell itself.

It didn't help that the Saiyan body behind him was extraordinarily hot, causing him to sweat uncomfortably in its heat. He hated being overheated; it was one of the few things that irritated him, and right now, he was so angry that steam could have been blowing out of his ears.

The worst part of the situation was that he wasn't quite sure how it had all come about. As far as he could remember, one minute he was sitting around talking to Radditz and Turles, and the next, he had been swept away. His mind had even started to taunt him with images of what it must have looked like, a sly voice telling him that he was in better use as a pillow than he had ever been as a warrior. That Vegeta had been right to kill him for his failures. Everything was grating on his nerves, yet he couldn't get away.

Every moment that ticked by felt like a millennia. The arms holding him were strong enough to kill him with a gentle movement, and he felt like he would be hugged to death. Well, if he wasn't already dead, of course. Yet it was entirely possible for him to die again down here and disappear into nothingness though he was certainly not alive.

He half-expected someone to find them like this and to mock him whilst he was unable to fight back. In fact, there was only one person he was thinking of that would do that, and he had already chickened out from the fight when he had seen Brolli. Turles could be such a little bitch at times, so watching his tail fluff up as he ran off was moderately amusing, and the only thing he found favourable right now. Radditz had tried to send a ki blast at the huge Saiyan when he had turned up, but when he had seen how it hadn't affected him in the slightest, he had apologised and fled too. At least he had had the manners to apologise before wussing out.

Feeling the weight behind him shifting, he turned his head to look at the other Saiyan's face; surprised by how attractive he looked when he was relaxed. The long hair which had reverted back to its original black hung lightly across his face, causing him to appear gentle and quite handsome. To Nappa's annoyance, he found himself staring, his cheeks feeling a little hot. Turning away hurriedly, he noted the body behind him was smaller when compared to the super Saiyan transformation of earlier as well.

Even Brolli's power level seemed smaller like this, but his own power was still insignificant to the giant behind him. Even without the super Saiyan status, Brolli's power was leagues above his own, and he felt a little jealous. Where had the guy come from anyway? Why was he so powerful? Did he need to sleep holding something? And, if so, why him, of all people? There were plenty of other people in hell, after all. He wasn't particularly attractive, nor was his body soft in any particular way, so it didn't make sense.

He jumped in shock when he felt the other's face press against the back of his head and the arms move to pull him even closer, tail fluffing in shock. Like this, he could feel the sweat rolling from the strong muscles behind him, which insisted on squashing themselves onto his back as if they had a mind of their own. The breaths against his neck were uncomfortably warm and starting to feel damp, and he could have sworn there was something else up against his body that he didn't want to think about. It was much easier that way.

Yet it didn't stop him from being angry. Or wiggling. Or yelling.

"I am not a goddamn pillow!"

Unfortunately his protests fell onto deaf ears as Brolli slept on, holding him tightly as if he were some sort of possession. When a tail coiled his thigh, he just gave up. He had been starting to feel tired from all the struggling, and the heat was making him sleepy and unable to fight back as well as he could have. At least, that's what he told himself. As his eyes began to drift shut, he thought that perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing after all.