Oh, to see without my eyes

The first time that you kissed me.

iv

They collapse in a heap to the floor, starburst bright and warm behind her eyelids and "good thing these walls are soundproof," is what she remembers thinking, awash in bliss and release, pondering if this is what is like to get well and truly fucked: backed into a wall, her oldest, married, Super Saiyan (best?) friend working over her and the end of the world hanging above their heads.

Her heart is battering against her ribcage with the unbearable urgency of a war drum – her thighs are still trembling and clenching. She can hear Goku's breathing, fast and close, and she runs a hand through her hair and then through his, reaching blindly, around the back, by his neck, still panting, and there's this new, salty, piercing note breaking through his scent and okay seriously, she thinks, let's do it again – and then there's a chuckle and a shaky "wha…?" – more an exhale than a whisper in her ear, but more than enough to make her wonder if she's spoken out loud and that is how she abruptly comes back to herself.

Her eyes fly open. "Did you – did you lock the door?"

"Uh," Goku says. "The door?"

"Shit!" Bulma wheezes, pushing him off of her and fixing her panties back in place, ignoring his groan of protest and hissing a "get dressed!" while scrambling to recover her own clothes from the floor. Her legs feel boneless but she jumps up nonetheless and hastily pulls the dress over her head. When she reemerges, Goku still hasn't moved; he's sprawled on the floor, giving her this odd, wide-eyed look and –

"Shit!" she says again, the word just a small whistle between clenched teeth. The sheer magnitude of what they've both said and done hits her like a fist to the windpipe, pushes her down and knocks the wind out of her and she can't even look at him – she feels sick with guilt, suffocated, bothered by his presence, by his existence even, and she wants to scream, to tell him to get the hell out of the world for bringing them to this and – and yet there's part of her that just wants to touch him one more time; part of her that wanted to say again 'Goku, Goku, Goku' as if it was the only word that she knew – that wanted to say stay, stay, stay with me just a little longer –

She moans and covers her eyes with both hands, moves them away briefly and slaps them back in what is like the world's most deranged peek-a-boo game, while Goku finally catches the hint and stands – he sighs and picks his briefs and pants from around his ankles, pulling them up with a silent rustle of cotton over skin.

Something indescribable is happening inside Bulma's chest, beneath her ribs. Something is expanding, painfully, taking her breath away, threatening to explode – a nuclear bomb, or a much more mundane heart attack because what else could that feeling be – she starts pacing back and forth, turning her head back and forth, savagely, then halting, then pacing some more. She runs her hands through her hair over and over, restless, unable to stop.

"This," she says, twirling on her feet one final time to face him – but there's a turbulent gasp in her voice and she has to try again. "This can never happen again."

Goku pauses from where he's busy with his belt buckle. He looks up and Bulma knows what is going to happen before it does –

"Bulma…"

She wishes he would never say her name like that.

"Don't," she warns, though the word ends on a pathetic rising note. "Don't say anything stupid."

Goku doesn't answer right away. Instead, he gets this petulant face and once again she's struck silent by how human he is today, in this room, in front of her, even with the blond hair, even with the alien eyes – and that she's the one who can get him to look like that – but it only lasts a few seconds; he turns away, bending to retrieve his shirt from the floor and she's left there standing like an idiot, staring at his back, her arms hanging loosely at her sides: she watches this teasing flash of pink and white skin, and the cords of his muscles, the way they tense and flex while he puts his shirt back on. She blinks and thinks about his sweat-damp hair between her fingers just moments ago. Blinks again and feels his hands grabbing her hips. Again and hears the way his breath stuttered in her ear while he was about to come.

She thinks she wants to hear that sound again.

"I wasn't going to," Goku says, and tucks his shirt into his pants; Bulma's hands are trembling, minute spasms running through the fingers when he turns around to face her. She sucks in a breath. His gaze drops to her mouth and flicks back to her eyes.

"You're forgetting," she says carefully. "That we have more important things to do right now."

It's cruel, she's well aware of it – but unexpectedly Goku one-ups her.

"I know that."

"Right," she snarls. "Then why the hell are you still here?

Goku lets out this breath like she's finally succeeded to piss him off completely and that is alright by her.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asks and she scoffs, shaking her head, and though she wants to say 'no' what comes out is:

"What?"

"Don't come to the Cell Games." It barely sounds like a request. It sounds like a command and Bulma frowns, but Goku's expression softens a bit. "This time just – stay where it's safe. Okay?"

"Oh." Bulma swallows. "Okay." She says it quietly, with a tenderness in her tone that she didn't mean and that she almost doesn't recognize. So, she tries to counter it. "I wasn't planning to, anyway."

He delivers a look that makes her wonder why she even bothered, but he doesn't say anything and she just watches as he fetches his jacket from where she had discarded it earlier. He shrugs into it and there's this itch on the surface of her brain that she can't bring forward.

"But," she hears herself blurt out, "you'll win." Her throat tightens around the next word. "Right?"

There's a moment, fleeting, but that Bulma feels clearly; Goku stares at her the same way he kept staring at her the first time Trunks showed up, like there's something huge he wants to say – then it's over when a weird smile that doesn't part his lips stretches on his face.

It's his turn to spin his words carefully. "It's going to be alright, one way or the other."

She doesn't want to know what that means. "What do you mean?"

Goku moves closer, deeper in her personal space. For a moment, it seems like he's about to pull her in his arms, but he just settles his hands on her shoulders.

"Nothing's gonna happen to you, Bulma," he says and he's so earnest, so sure, that her breath catches and the force in her chest lurches but she says "It'd better not," instead of doing something stupid like kissing him or telling him that no matter what, even when she doesn't want to, he will always be the only one she will always trust with her life.

(Later, she will wonder if and how their definitions of stupid match).

She reaches out and wipes with her thumb the lipstick stains around his mouth. Goku smiles, his real smile this time, a gorgeous grin that makes his green eyes sparkle. He flexes his fingers around her shoulders, pressing into her skin a little before letting go, and picks the dragon radar from his pocket, clicking a few time on the button on the top. The radar bleeps to life.

His eyes move to meet hers.

"See ya," he says, and disappears into thin air.

"Yeah," she whispers, but she's already breathing a little bit easier. "See ya."

.

.

.

What about you? She knows she should have asked. What's going to happen to you?

.

.

.

tbc