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It's been a long while since I posted any fanfiction, and never have I posted anything for DBZ. But I've been reading a number of really remarkable K18 stories lately and felt compelled to share one of my own. This one won't be more than a couple or three chapters, and it's more introspection than action. I'm trying to work out the kinks in my writing muscles in preparation for a return to fiction, and what better way than to contribute to the fandom of one of my favorite vastly underrated couples.

By Any Other

by koinekid

Sunlight streamed through the window, warming Lazuli's face and drooping her eyelids. Of all the rooms in this small pink house, Krillin's caught the best late afternoon sun, and his bed was positioned to take full advantage. Her gaze drifted to the man himself, seated at his desk reading a book, and she wished he would lie down and enjoy the sun next to her. He might if she invited him, but something stayed her tongue. They'd never even sat on a bed together, much less laid beside one another, and she hesitated to push. This thing they had mattered to her, and she refused to risk damaging it.

In an effort to fight off her drowsiness, she sat up and swung her feet onto the floor. She'd fallen asleep in his bed once before and still remembered the blush burning in her cheeks when she awoke. Mercifully, Krillin had also fallen asleep at his desk. Lazuli flew to her room—both figuratively and literally. The floors in the house creaked, and she was desperate not to wake their roommates. But the old man was awake already, and the slow grin that formed on his face when he encountered her in the hall left no doubt about the perverted thoughts swirling around in his head. It took everything she had not to reduce him to a pile of ash. She settled for giving him a dirty look before easing her door shut to avoid waking Krillin.

The next day, as she paced the floor, debating the merits of permanently barricading herself in her room, Krillin strolled in, turned the desk chair to face her, and sat. They chatted awhile before dinner as if nothing had happened. The way he acted, maybe it hadn't.

Good thing too. Truth is, if the two of them wanted to spend an afternoon lazing about indoors, it had to be in one of their rooms. Their roommates hogged the downstairs most of the day, watching endless hours of exercise tapes or other unsavory material. Upstairs, the sound of the programs barely registered as a muffled one-and-two-and-one-and-two, and they could pretend not to hear. Sometimes she and Krillin talked or listened to music. Other times they barely interacted. One would cross the hall and enter the other's room, plop down on the bed or in a chair and continue reading or whatever else they were doing without saying a word. It was enough being near one another.

That arrangement started off as infuriatingly one-sided. Lazuli would enter Krillin's room and act as if she owned the place, rearranging items on his shelves, rifling through his books, commenting that he should see her superior book collection. Try as she might to encourage him—leaving her door open, moving her desk so they could see one another from across the hall (if they turned), smiling at him when he looked over—he never took the hint and visited her. Were it not for the grin that sprang to his lips whenever she walked through his doorway, she'd have suspected him of merely tolerating her visits. She was starting to get miffed until struck with sudden insight—an occurrence that was becoming more common the longer he was in her life. Krillin was intentionally respecting her space. He wanted to visit but had to be certain that she wanted it too.

The next time she entered his room and was greeted with his customary heartfelt smile, she snatched away the book he was reading, took his hand, and wordlessly walked him across the hall.

"Eighteen?" he had asked.

Lazuli didn't reply but instead sat him at her desk. Tempted though she was to deposit them both on her bed, she knew better. Returning his book, she sank onto her bed and began thumbing through a fashion magazine. After a few moments of blinking wonder, he opened his book to resume his reading.

From that day forward, he entered her room as freely as she did.

They were progressing slowly and steadily on this road to somewhere, and while the journey might take longer than she would prefer, she'd trust him enough not to press—too hard—and travel at a rate comfortable to them both.

Another one of those sudden insights struck as she sat on his bed fighting off sleep. She did trust him. Completely. Their casual intimacy was of a type she had never shared with anybody—not even her beloved brother. And yet there was something she had never shared with Krillin, something so basic that an ordinary person might tell it to a stranger. But she had never told the person closest to her.

As quickly as the realization struck, the request escaped not entirely bidden from her lips.

"What was that?" Krillin said.

A blush as fierce as the one of all those nights ago returned to Lazuli's cheeks. "I said that you should—you should call me by my human name." Overcome with a shyness completely at odds with her normal personality, she looked away. A moment later, she felt a weight beside her on the bed and a hand grasp her own.

Krillin interlaced his fingers with hers. Red sprinkled his own cheeks. "Okay," he whispered. "What is your name?"

She very nearly told him, but their faces were now closer than they had ever been, and if she dipped her head just a little, she could brush her lips against his. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he groaned. That was all it took.

The kiss started as a gentle exploration—

Is this all right?

What do you think?

—before an undercurrent of passion swelled—

Can't believe we waited so long.

Give me more!

—and left them panting for one another.

"Oh, Krillin," she moaned, clinging to him.

He held as tightly to her. "Oh...you."

He chuckled, and so did she. But even so...

"Just for that," she said, giving him a quick kiss before disentangling herself from his arms and heading for the door, "I'm not going to tell you my name—"

"But, Eighteen—" He looked crestfallen, and she felt a little guilty.

"Yet," she amended. "You are going to have to guess."

"But—but, there are thousands, millions of names in the world."

"It's a female name," she said. "There, I just eliminated half your options."

"How many letters? What's it start with?"

"Let's go, Krillin. Dinner must be on the table. I can smell it from here."

He stood beside her in the doorway. "Come on, Eighteen. One hint?"

"No, and no talking about it during dinner either. The old man and the pig don't get to know. Only you."

"What's to know? You haven't told me anything."

"That's your punishment for that lame joke."

"The one you laughed at."

She nodded. "Besides, aren't good things worth waiting for?"

He paused, his eyes meeting hers before nodding. The slow smile spreading across his face sent a thrill up her spine. "They sure are."

TBC?

Shall I continue? I had a few ideas of where I can take this.

Thanks for reading; reviews are appreciated.