Author's Note: There be MATURE content ahead in this chapter, of the lemon variety! So be warned! Thanks for sticking with this fic, everyone! I'm glad everyone is still enjoying it. I love when I get the time to write for it, because I have my ideas all fleshed out in my head by the time that I do. Thanks for the reviews and the patience. Y'all are da best.
"I think she's about ready."
The doctor's voice hit him like a gong. Goten reared his head up from where it hung between his shoulders and sprang from the chair. He all but leapt the two bounding strides to reach the side of the regeneration tank Bulla had been healing in for the better part of two hours, and it was all he could do not to break down the glass that separated them.
"Slow down!" The doctor scolded him with a clicking of the pincers on his face. "You rushing doesn't make her come out any quicker!"
The doctor grumped to himself as he shuffled around to the control panel of the machine. His claws tapped at the buttons and multiple screens, and from the machine came a whirring and guzzling as the fluid inside began to drain into the floor underneath the tank. Goten resisted the urge to push his face against the glass like an eager child at the zoo, opting instead to fold his arms across his chest as he waited impatiently, foot tapping wildly at the floor.
The glass top of the tank cranked and rolled back into a space at the back of the hull, as the front portion began to mechanically descend. With a hiss, the tubing and sensors covering Bulla's mouth and temples retracted, leaving her drenched and sitting with eyes closed on the bench inside the machine. She almost looked mannequin-like, shiny from residue and still as a statue.
Goten swallowed when she didn't move. Tentatively, he shifted forward a step.
"Bulla…?"
Slowly, Bulla's chest - bound only by several layers of bandages - began to inflate as she inhaled, and her azure eyes fluttered open.
Relief hit him like a truck. Goten's knees threatened to buckle under the pressure of it. She was okay; he hadn't realized how much he needed her with him until this moment.
It was almost crushing.
Her glassy eyes wandered over his rapidly crumpling features, and her eyebrows drew inward in confusion. As awareness began to filter in stronger, Bulla started to sit further upright, and Goten shot out an arm to steady her as she stood up abruptly. Growing more frightened, Bulla's wild gaze flitted back and forth about the med bay.
"...Where are we?" She whispered up at him, and Goten's fingers flexed over her shivering shoulder where he held her still. Her ki was fluttering in panic.
"The infirmary," he spoke low and tugged gently to coax her closer to him and out of the machine. Realization dawned on her as she crowded herself against him, and he squinted at her wondering expression. "You don't remember?"
"Not really," she admitted, glancing downward. Bulla peeked back up at him, a dusty pink coloring her cheeks. He furrowed his eyebrows with uncertainty down at her. "Uhm ... where are my clothes?"
With her question, Goten became acutely aware of her nakedness huddled up close to him. Spare the bandages around her chest, Bulla was donning naught but a pair of white boy shorts similar to the spandex-like material of the guards' suits, leaving the majority of her lithe, alabaster form undressed.
His fingers threatened to squeeze her shoulder too hard. "I, uh-"
"You need an exam, first," the doctor interjected, and Goten was startled by the reminder that they were not alone. The cricket pointed at a long table nearby. "Go lie down."
Wary was the glance Bulla traded between the doctor and Goten. He sympathized; of course she would be unsure. But if they wanted to get back to their homing room, he knew she'd have to comply. His hand smoothed over the roundness of her shoulder, and Goten mustered the most reassuring smile he could down at her.
"I'm not going anywhere," he told her, and that seemed to be enough for her, as she only nodded silently in response.
Bulla crept toward the bed and crawled atop it with Goten's (unnecessary) assistance. She slipped down to a flat position on her back, and Goten caught himself staring as her chest moved slowly in purposeful, measured breathing. The doctor didn't take long in his once-over of her physical exterior, moving about her prone form and inspecting her from head to toe. When he was satisfied, the alien commanded her to dress, tossing Bulla a fresh jumpsuit from one of the cabinets against the wall.
Goten caught it mid-air between them in one hand, and he extended the other to help her climb down from the table. Blushing, Bulla took his hand and slid down. The sound of her bare feet against the tile floor made his stomach flip.
Swallowing against it, Goten proffered the suit, offering, "Want some help?"
"I feel fine, Goten," she told him softly and took it, unfolding the garment with a familiarity that made him sad.
He watched as she hurriedly redressed, only looking away when she lifted her eyebrows pointedly at his staring. Goten tried not to pay too close attention as the suit slid over her figure, his breathing suddenly becoming a lot harder than a few moments ago. When Bulla had gotten it over her arms and up, Goten butted in, his fingers taking the zipper at her back and dragging it up before she got a chance to argue against his chivalry.
Her cheeks were dark when she turned around.
"Thank you," she mumbled. Her hand tucked limp, damp blue strands behind her ear. It reminded him of high school.
"Don't mention-"
"So," the doctor interrupted them again, startling them both. "You say you don't know what happened, then? You were in quite a miserable way when I found you in here."
When Bulla shook her head in confusion at the doctor, he indicated toward the bloody cot she had been deposited on hours ago. Goten watched her inhale a shaky breath, eager to find out what had happened and worried whether or not they'd do so. If she couldn't remember, that was bad, right?
"I know what happened before that," she answered his unspoken question and turned away from the cot, clearly set at unease by the visual. He couldn't blame her; the thing was still wet with how soaked through it had been with her blood just a few hours before. It still was uncomfortable for him to spare a glance, too. "I don't know how I got here."
"It was Veron, right?" Goten spoke up, and Bulla raised her eyebrows in surprise at him. "I felt you. The both of you. What happened?"
"Let's see, shall we?"
Bulla glanced at the doctor, who had returned to his chair behind a small desk. He was busying himself with a thin hand-held device, clicking at the screen, and it wasn't until both Saiyans fell silent that he looked upward at them. Though hard to decipher initially, Goten could tell the creature was skeptical of Bulla, eyeing her from head to toe.
"It seems MAR-02 was dumped in another infirmary wing, a few floors down," the doctor announced as he set the electronic aside. "He's in critical condition. Apparently, the attending physician of that wing doesn't know how he arrived, either."
Goten heard Bulla swallow, and he chanced a peek at her. Unapologetic was a prime word to describe her, yet apprehension of what that might mean for her was clear across her pretty face.
"She defended herself," Goten broke the silence stretching across the room, defensive the accusation that hadn't yet been posed. "How about what he did to her?"
"Harm is harm," the alien shrugged and tipped back in the desk chair. "We'll see what's what when the soldiers get here. Don't get so ruffled."
"Soldiers?" Bulla and Goten chorused.
The doctor nodded and appeared nonplussed by their reactions of surprise and affront, respectively. "Of course. According to your profiles, you're both to be held in lockdown until the higher ups figure out to do about this … situation."
"And what is it we are supposed to have done?" Bulla snapped.
"Well," the cricket alien drawled as he retrieved his device once more, clicking it open, "it appears this one - " a claw gestured at Goten, " - abandoned his post abruptly, and you've put the last known male of a species on the critical list."
The doctor dropped the tablet again, and Goten was infuriated by the seemingly bored expression he wore now. "Doesn't an escort seem reasonable to you?"
The doors opened to the bay, and all three parties glanced over to find five guards spill into the room with arms held at the ready. With a chuckle, the doctor stood up from behind the desk, one talon clinking against the device screen. In that motion, Bulla and Goten's braces fastened together, each one's wrists bound with extremely powerful magnetism. Goten grunted from the force of it, his shoulders sagging in disappointment at being rendered useless in this way again. Bulla, however, shrieked and jerked her arms down, in a futile attempt to separate her cuffs.
"Be still!" A tall, hulking guard barked at her, and he menaced a thundering step toward her when she insolently continued to yank her arms.
When he growled another warning, Goten shuffled into the space between them, hissing at Bulla to stop her fussing. Reluctantly, the younger girl listened, dropping her arms in defeat and whipping her red face away from him.
/*/
The extra force of the gravity simulator was increasing the temperature around them drastically. Vegeta and Gohan were engaged in a furious sparring match, blipping in and out of focus from one another and meeting explosively in flurries of blows and blasts. Gohan's breathing had started becoming ragged in his exertion to keep up with the older man, and he thought fleetingly of when he was a child an probably would have kicked Vegeta's ass with ease.
A small part of him longed for that time.
With a cry, he struck toward Vegeta, but was only met with a smirk in reply. Vegeta twisted and kneed Gohan in his left rib, and he went down to his hands and knees with a burning cough.
"Get up," Vegeta panted, the back of his hand wiping at the beaded sweat on his brow. "We're not finished."
"I need… a second," Gohan heaved as he strained to even out his breathing. He squinted through the sweat dripping down his face to find Vegeta sneering at him.
And then Gohan only saw stars, when Vegeta open-palm smacked him across the face. Gohan flung to the side with the force of the hit. He groaned and rolled over to push up on one arm, listening as Vegeta's boots stomped closer.
"I said, 'get up'," Vegeta commanded once again. His arms had crossed over his puffed-up chest. "We don't have time for you to take a nap."
"I'm not napping," Gohan ground out and hopped to his feet when strength found in deep reserves urged him on. He shook his arms loose of growing tension, bouncing from toe to toe as he glowered across at Vegeta, burgeoning contempt for the man boiling toward the surface. "I'm trying-"
"You're not trying!" Vegeta barked over him, and suddenly the mood had shifted quite dramatically. "Or if this is your 'trying', then there certainly isn't hope for you and your brother!"
Gohan grunted and swung toward Vegeta, who canted back a couple of easy steps from his reach.
"We're all going to make it, Vegeta! Why are you being like this?"
Another attempt to connect, but the Saiyan Prince dodged effortlessly, never even bothering to uncross his arms.
"Being like what, then?"
"Like you don't care what happens to us!"
At that, Vegeta unfolded his arms and leveled a single ki blast at Gohan's feet, causing him to flip backwards out of the way to avoid damage.
"You're being an idiot," he growled and advanced. He punched forward, with Gohan blocking, and Vegeta pushed him further away from him. "I have already said my peace on the matter, boy."
"I'm here for Goten AND Bulla!" Gohan spat. "I would never leave without her! But you've made threats that you'd do just that to us!"
"Your view of what we're up against is limited," Vegeta snapped.
Both dove at one another again, a renewed vigor behind every one of Gohan's grapples. He was determined to knock that grouchy frown out from between Vegeta's eyebrows before this set was over.
"And I'm not willing to risk losing my daughter because of your short-sightedness!"
Gohan hollered loud as he lunged, throwing handfuls of ki at Vegeta in the small space between them. The older Saiyan dodged back and back, looking ever more furious with each blast, until he launched one of his own that consumed the onslaught.
The pair stood feet apart, each breathing heavily amid the smoke as it dissipated between them. Gohan rubbed at his face, his head shaking without him realizing it, and he wiped the gathering sweat from his nose, temple, cheeks with the collar of his shirt. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and he could tell his lungs were beginning to struggle under the severe gravitational pull they were under.
A beeping sound from the console, and the fluorescent lights illuminated overhead as the gravity relieved back to Earth's normal. Gohan gasped as his lungs expanded seemingly twice as full, and he coughed into his fist fitfully. The standstill had begun to drag an ache through his muscles, but Vegeta was still standing apart from him, unmoved and - perhaps - disappointed.
"...Y'know, yeah, you're right," Gohan assented with a nod after a moment. "Maybe I haven't been all that concerned about the Institute. It's hard to imagine someone we - you," he amended carefully, " - can't face."
In his chest, something tightened, and Gohan turned from Vegeta to spare him the tears burning his eyes. "Since my father's been gone, sometimes - rarely, but sometimes - you've filled that role for me." He clenched his fist, then opened it to himself, wondering when his hands began to look so old. "...Even more so to Goten."
There was another imperceptible shift between them. Gohan felt Vegeta's energy tense and release beside him, and he looked up to find the alien man he had somehow come to know as 'family' looking back at him with what Gohan could only describe as bewilderment.
Vegeta opened his mouth then closed it again, and if Gohan wasn't mistaken, a faint blush was tinting his cheeks. Vegeta looked away from him when he realized Gohan was watching him so carefully.
"I ... would never leave you and your idiot sibling behind," Vegeta begrudgingly admitted after a moment, tacking on with a sour glance, "Bulma, my children, and your harpy mother would never shut up about it."
"You needed to be inspired to fight harder and be ready for what's to come," he grumbled, half under his breath, as he stalked over to the console to conclude shut down of the gravity simulator. The machine hummed around them, as though the walls themselves sighed in relief.
Gohan nodded, feeling his own decompressing relief at the other man's confession, a barely contained smile edging at the corners of his lips. "Yes. Don't worry, Vegeta. I will work twice as hard to keep up with you!"
Vegeta humphed when he strode past Gohan. "You'll need to do better than 'twice as' to keep up with me, boy."
/*/
"Impressive."
"... That's all you have to say?"
Vatet smirked with an arched brow and tossed her the chart to the side of her desk. Her fingers laced delicately as she leaned forward, and Renken edged back in his own seat across from her, clearly on edge from her sudden proximity.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Renken. Would you like me to say anything more?"
Renken shook his head before words came. "N-No, ma'am, no! I-I…"
The red-skinned woman waved breezily across the table, an additional flick of her wrist summoning the soldier Pajeth from beside the office door.
"Oh, Renken, don't look so glum," she sighed, pretending to ignore the other scientist's gasp of shock as Pajeth boosted him up from the chair under the arm. "We appreciate your invested interest in our Saiyans. The Commander will be pleased with the findings from your -" Vatet glared at him from the corner of her eye, "- 'freelance' examinations. Thank you for your time."
Squirming in Pajeth's grasp, Renken pleaded with the head scientist as he was carried from her office, a high-pitched squeal sounding from the hall when the doors had closed behind them.
/*/
The Saiyan captives were unceremoniously returned to their homing room. The group of guards escorting them reminded them of the consequence of their second demerits. When the doors shut behind the soldiers, their cuffs detached instantly.
It wasn't clear which moved first, but at once they were upon one another. Goten's arms wrapped tight around Bulla's back and hers wound about his neck. He buried his face into her shoulder as she craned her neck up, pushing herself up on tip-toe into his embrace, both inhaling the comfort of being returned to one another. During the time waiting for her to recover, Goten had grown painfully aware of how very alone they were without the other - it was a feeling he never wished to be acquainted with again.
"I can't believe I'm glad to be back here," she hissed tearfully, and he laughed into her hair, agreement that his relief was just as unsettling. Bulla pulled back first, her eyes shining with fresh tears. "That was really awful."
Goten's hand brushed her teal waves over her shoulder and out of her face, the sentiment behind the gesture bringing a wilted smile to her lips. "You shouldn't be punished for this. It isn't fair."
Bulla grimaced and her eyes danced away from his face guiltily. "You didn't see Veron," she muttered, and shame was evident in her admission. Her gaze slipped further, beyond the walls of their chamber, somewhere he couldn't see. "I've never had to do that before."
"Are you okay?"
She nodded and turned her face downward, long hair hiding her features from his view.
"Yes." But he knew a lie when he heard it. "I mean, I guess I will be."
The amendment didn't make him feel any better. Goten crooked his index finger and hooked it around the point of her chin, tipping her head to look up at him again. He deflated at the sight of conflict written upon her features. Bulla had never seen this kind of violence in her life, let alone had to be the reaper of it; born in a time of peace and living a life of innocence had rendered her unprepared for the harsh realities of survival in the universe.
Hell, he wasn't even sure he was totally prepared for it all, either.
"I know you will," Goten agreed, the thumb of the hand holding her brushing over the round of her chin. Her jaw quivered in his hand.
"...I want to go home," her voice cracked over the words, and so did his heart as he witnessed tears splash over her lashes. Her eyebrows wiggled, struggling to reign the emotions in, but Bulla gave in and hiccuped and ducked her face away. "But it's getting harder to think we ever will again."
"Hey, hey," he shushed her, as her anguished belief cut him deeper than he'd like to admit. Goten tried to pull her close, but she resisted with a sniffle, her tiny fists pushing against his hard chest. "Bulla, c'mon. We're gonna get home. We can-"
"I think they know about me."
"Eh?"
"I had to turn Super Saiyan to beat him," Bulla rolled her shoulders in apology when his face must've fallen. Shit. "He was so strong. I didn't know what else to do! I'm not a great fighter, that's all I had."
"We can find another way," Goten supplied hopefully as his hand cupped her shoulder. "Just stop pouting and let's think about it."
"I'm not pouting!"
Goten rolled his eyes. "Tell your bottom lip that."
Bulla reared her head away from him, and her hand flew to cover her offending mouth. He couldn't help but find a small amount of delight in the indignant scoff she breathed into her palm. Getting her riled him made it all feel normal for a moment.
"Don't be a jerk! I'm being serious!"
"I am too," Goten told her firmly. "We gotta at least try. Please don't give up on me."
Her downcast gaze wandered across the space between their boots. Eventually, she turned her face back upward, unimpressed but not as hopeless as before. The weight she had leveled on his heart in the moments prior alleviated.
"...Okay," she sighed. "We'll try. But…" Bulla's eyes slipped to the side, and Goten grew curious over her words left unspoken.
"'But' what?"
His attention caused the pink upon her cheeks to blossom further into red, spreading down her neck and up to her ears. Goten opened his mouth to ask after her, until Bulla's watery eyes found him again, startling him quiet. Her lips flattened into a sad smile.
"Nothing," she cleared her throat. When he made to ask of her again, Bulla wondered a little loudly, "What should we do now? Lockdown kind of implies…"
"That we can't leave, huh?" Goten grumbled and scratched under his chin. He hadn't really considered that aspect of their consequences. "I guess I should take a shower. I haven't in a couple days…"
"Sounds like a plan, count me in," Bulla agreed, though she paused when she realized the implication of her statement. Horrified, she gaped up at him, holding her hands up in defense. "N-not like that! Not, like, with you! Just that I also need one!"
"Uh, ha," Goten chuckled weakly, as a bazillion scary and tantalizing visions scattered across his imagination in the fleeting entertainment of her not-suggestion. "No, no, I-I didn't think that's what you meant."
"I can go after-"
"You should go first."
The two hesitated as they interrupted one another, staring at each other in unease. Eventually, Bulla gave a breathless chuckle and began past him toward the bathroom with a murmured thanks. Goten watched after her, his skin prickling in the rippling waves of tension left in her wake.
His nerves were stretched thin as she disappeared further in the bathroom, each one plucking in agitation as he listened to her shuffle, heard the shower head start, and there was the sensation of - annoyance? Aggravation? Something left unfinished.
Before he could think better of it, Goten's booming heartbeat and quick feet had carried him after her. He had barely raised his fist to knock at the bathroom portal when it swung open, revealing Bulla standing just on the other side. Her suit was unzipped part way, the top folded up over her chest by the arm not holding open the door. Goten's face blazed hot and furious at being caught, his hand left hanging in the air.
"Come here, please," she breathed, and he could've wept in relief when she surged forward on tip toe, planting a sweet kiss against his mouth.
Her suit top fell away as she dropped it to hug her body against his, and Goten welcomed her with open arms. He shuffled forward to usher them into the bathroom, and he was unsure if it was the steam from the shower warming him up or the burn of her skin under his palms as he skated his hands up her waist and around her back. Bulla's hands clutched tightly into the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer into her embrace, an unspoken urgency sweltering between them.
Goten's hands slid over her bandaged breasts, down to where her suit was bunched at her waist, before gliding down further under her backside. She squeaked into the space between their lips as he lifted and deposited her little figure atop the bathroom sink counter, her breath fanning against his mouth, but undeterred her legs parted to provide a space for him. Delicate fingers tickled down the top vertebrae of his spine, her hands searching for the zipper of his suit, and a vague sense of dread trickled over him.
When Bulla discovered it at last, she pulled eagerly, and it was the burning desperation to finally feel her skin against his that made him forget danger, forget propriety, his shoulders shrugging the suit down as her deft fingers peeled his arms out of the sleeves. The torso of his own suit fell loose between them, and Bulla gasped, a delightfully girlish noise that made every drop of his blood rush south, when his firm chest pressed against hers.
Her skin where they touched was so soft, so smooth. His hands flattened against the counter top, fingers flexing, his forehead pushing into hers as Goten pulled their mouths apart with a wet pop. They paused, both panting hotly into the other's air.
Fleetingly, Goten considered that he might be suffocating with her here, and whether or not that was a good thing. But her nose butted his, and he caught her eye. Her gaze was cloudy with lust, and there behind her deeply blue irises shone a hungry longing he felt, too.
"What are we doing?"
Bulla made a soft sound, somewhere close to a whimper and a sigh, and his dick throbbed when her knees tightened around his sides. Neither spoke for a moment, just breathing in the other's exhaling, and he could feel her heartbeat just as fervid so close to his own.
"What… what if we don't get out of here?" Bulla piped up softly. When he glanced up, her eyes had settled upon his collar bone, and her right hand was creeping up to follow her wandering gaze. "What if we really are here, forever?"
Her nails sunk gently into the skin there, and he sucked in a sharp breath when she released, leaving behind four pink crescents.
"I don't want…" Bulla swallowed, then attempted once more, a little less feather and a little more sure when her eyes found his again. Her hand smoothed back out over his pec. "They shouldn't get to choose for us. I want it to be different."
"Me too," he found himself agreeing, surprising himself with how much he truly wanted it to be so.
Goten's hand fell upon her waist, in silent acknowledgment of the intention behind her wish and his consent of the terms. In muted awe, her pinkened lips parted, and he stole forward with an eager kiss at the opportunity. Her fingers slid down his chest, over his stomach, to the stretchy material dangling open at his waist, making the muscles beneath twitch in anticipation. With little preamble, her hand snaked into his suit front, and his entire being strained to fold into her.
A groan fell out of his mouth and into hers when velvet fingers finally wrapped around him. Her hand worked him tentatively in the snug space between them, and Goten dug into the slab of the counter beneath her for support as ragged breaths stung his lungs and the most exquisite waves of relief rolled over and over him. A torrent of wild thoughts flooded him, Goten ducked his head to rest in the crook of her neck; had anything felt so satisfying? How long had he actually wanted this? Was this really happening? And how could he make her feel the same?
Did she know what this could mean?
"Bulla," Goten whispered her name out and pulled up, and blessedly her hand barely stuttered a beat. "I-"
"Don't say something stupid," she hissed at him. "Please, just pull your suit down."
Goten's throat went dry. That hunger reflected back at him had blown her pupils wide, flushed her cheeks, and commanded he comply. Hastily, his hands shoved at the suit, shirking it down to his knees. Sweaty palms returned to her hips where Goten held himself anchored to her, bowing over her petite frame to catch her lips messily once more.
Her steady hand had found a cleaner rhythm unrestrained, and it was all he could do to hold himself upright. Deep in his gut, he felt his release rising, faster than he'd like but crescendoing all the same. Desperately, his hand coasted up her front and tugged at the bandages over her chest, ripping them with ease. He caught a breast in one hand, the weight and warmth causing his throat to constrict in a moan, his hips canting into her stroking when she arched into his touch.
The coil bound low in his spine was tightening, tightening with every pump of her hand, and white hot and blinding, it came upon him almost by surprise. Goten grunted into her mouth and spilled into her palm, her own tiny moan reverberating all way through him. He continued to thrust shallowly into her gentle hand, breath heaving and white noise humming around him in the seconds after.
His name, spoken softly, roused him. Goten opened his eyes to peek at her, and he became altogether humbled under her patient stare.
"I'm sorry," he huffed, half a laugh and half a sigh. "I didn't mean-"
"I said 'don't say something stupid'," Bulla reprimanded him kindly, her right hand slipping away from his groin as the other framed his jaw.
Her lips pressed to his tenderly, and Goten exhaled through his nose. When they parted, her smile was a new one - he almost could place it, but not quite. It made him nervous.
He cleared his throat around the lump forming there, only just realizing his hand was still cupping her breast in that moment. Bulla seemed to mirror his realization, her eyes flicking down where he was loosely fondling her, then back up with a hint of a smirk twisting that foreign smile and lusty blush still coloring her skin.
"Yeah?"
"Sorry," he muttered again, dropping his hand after one (unapologetic) farewell squeeze. "So, uhm..."
"The shower stopped," she announced suddenly, effectively cutting through his awkward attempt at transition. She slipped down from between his torso and the counter and padded over toward the stall, while he busied himself with yanking his suit back up over his hips.
Ducking in, Bulla fiddled with the buttons on the shower wall, and the spray kicked on once again. "It must be on some kind of automated system. I don't even think I heard it."
"How … conservational of them," Goten mused with a snort, and he was pleased with the eyeroll Bulla threw his way. "That was a poor joke. My bad."
Why he was surprised, he didn't know, when Bulla began to undress her chest the rest of the way. She winced as she peeled the bandages apart from her sides, and Goten's body moved into action of its own volition. As his hands coaxed the strips away from her back, she hesitated in place, and he fell hypnotized by the goosebumps scattered across her flesh under his trailing fingertips.
Bulla began to shiver despite the heat radiating from the shower once more. Exposed completely from the waist up, her arms began to reflexively slide up to conceal her chest from his view. However, Bulla appeared to reconsider her modesty in the next second, and Goten's heart ceased its pounding altogether when she boldly dropped her limbs and allowed him unburdened view.
It wasn't the most attractive thought, but Goten considered how much she resembled her father in this small defiance, and quickly he derailed that train of thought by scooping her up into an embrace born of coursing affection for her.
"I think I changed my mind about the shower."
He tried to think about words hitting his ear softly, and definitely not the plush push of her breasts against his chest. "You don't want to take one?"
Bulla shook her head. Her shaky breath warmed the side of his neck as she seemed to nuzzle in against him. "I mean I want to take one with you."
Everything in him froze as his brain malfunctioned. He drew back just far enough to meet her gaze. Finding no uncertainty staring back at him, Goten could only nod in meek agreement.
/*/
Trunks exhaled the plume of smoke slowly, his tired eyes watching it bend and twist as the wind drifted it away. He flicked the ashes and they tumbled off the edge of the ashtray but he paid little mind. He was trying to focus most of his attention on seeking out two familiar ki, both once so common place he would practically forget them and now so markedly absent he felt a vast emptiness without them present.
"That's a disgusting habit, y'know," Pan drawled, and he didn't turn as he listened to the sliding door close behind her. Her boots stomped up to join him at the table, a brusque movement from her causing the patio chair to squeak against the balcony floor. "I thought you quit?"
"Old habits die hard, I guess," Trunks shrugged, but put out the half-finished cigarette all the same. "Anything new?"
Pan shook her head with a sigh. "No. We've got almost all the dragon balls collected, we've got two left to get, but your dad said to wait on it. I don't know what he's thinking-"
"He's thinking we may need the balls for something else, obviously."
"Like what?"
"Like what if they're dead? Or if Gohan or Vegeta die?" At Pan's silence, Trunks nodded up at the sky. "Yeah, something like that."
"I don't think any of them are going to die. Stop being so macabre," Pan scolded him after a moment, though he could hear in her inflection she didn't quite believe that either. "Bulla might not be the best fighter, but she can hold her own. Goten and Gohan are strong enough, and your dad-"
Trunks sighed heavily to cut her off, his icy eyes glowering across to her. "My dad's scared," he told her. The heaviness of those words brought her wide eyes surprised to meet his. "We should've all gone."
"Right! That's what I was thinking! Why didn't they bring you and me?" Pan pouted as she toed the nearest patio chair leg.
He had an inkling. Trunks had voiced it before, but Bulma had forbade him from echoing it ever again. But here, after a few drinks and a smoke, lost in morose thought, he couldn't help but let it slip again. "Probably because they didn't want you and me to get caught up in it either. … And probably because if Goten touches Bulla, my dad'll probably beat the crap out of him, too."
Both musings brought Pan to pause. She stared over at the older man, the drumming of her fingers on the table previously having ceased, and when Trunks looked over at her he was almost amused to find her so deep in consideration of his suggestions. Had she been naive enough to not understand either of those possibilities?
"Like, you and me being the next Saiyan Adam and Eve?" She grumbled, nose gradually wrinkling. "Ugh, gag me."
There was an innuendo in there somewhere; Goten would've found it. Trunks merely chuckled and shook his head at her. "I'm sure they're saying the same thing, huh?"
Pan scoffed, and Trunks arched a brow at her suspicious reaction of… amusement?
"I dunno, I'm sure Bulla may not have too many qualms about it."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh… you never noticed?" Pan chuckled. "Bulla has the hots for Goten."
Trunks blanched. "Excuse me?"
Now it was Pan's turn to raise her brows, but instead of suspicion, she burst into full laughter. Trunks sat up a little straighter in his seat, caught off guard by this information, as his brain snapped through every childhood memory to try and dig up such a recollection.
"Oh yeah, Bulla's had a crush on him since she was, like, five," Pan rolled her eyes. "It's super gross. She's gotten better about it lately, though-"
"Dude, that's so weird," Trunks groaned, low and long, pushing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "Why, why did you have to tell me that?!"
Pan shrugged, and Trunks privately hated the knowing smirk on her face. "I thought you knew! I didn't think she was that covert about it... I mean, obviously Goten's an idiot and never noticed, but you're her brother - I'd think you'd have known!"
"No, never," Trunks admitted and now his horror was beginning to morph somewhat into … shame. Shame that he maybe hadn't known his sister as well as before, shame that maybe he had squandered that opportunity to get to know her better.
The mood shifted. Silently, Pan scooted around so that her hand could settle firmly over Trunks' forearm, and his gaze met hers across the table. Her smirk had softened sadly, and her fingers squeezed him reassuringly.
"Hey, our dads will get them back," she told him with a positivity he wished he felt, too. "Stop moping and why don't you come help me get the last couple of dragon balls? Get your head out of here?"
Trunks considered this; he had been upset he couldn't be of more assistance in the rescue mission, left feeling useless while waiting. If anything, the trip to find the balls could at least provide a short escape. He nodded and agreed, and Pan flashed him a wide smile at his acquiescence.
"Alright! I get to take lead!" Pan crowed, victorious, as she leaped up from the table, and Trunks scrambled to follow close behind.
"What! No way, I'm lead!"
"First one to the Dragon Radar!"