Pacifist
Chapter 13—What Spikes?
Disclaimer: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. "This Could Be Love" is by Alkaline Trio.
Author's Note: Yes, that stupid thing. Drunk Saiyans ahead!
Chessa had long since lost count of the number of pitchers of punch she'd polished off with the help of her two friends slash bodyguards, all three talking, giggling, dancing together and oddly oblivious of the world. Around them, couples wrapped around each other on the dance floor and curled up in corners, so the Saiyans' inattentive state was probably the best way to deal with that, anyway.
"… and then Vegeta popped up, scowling something awful. Trunks and I just froze, and then he dropped the Dragonball radar right on Vegeta's foot!" Goten waved his arms widely to emphasize the point, grinning more stupidly than his father ever had. Chessa doubled over in giggles, clutching her bare stomach, but Trunks glared at his best friend.
"I wasn't the one who begged dad not to hurt us!" Trunks added, his speech slightly slurred. He passed their current pitcher to Goten. "You've got a bit of punch right here," he told Chessa, reaching out to rub the corner of her mouth gently with his thumb.
Chessa blushed, ducking her head. "Really?" She rubbed the spot with the back of her hand, the tips of her ears decidedly pink.
"It's gone now," Trunks murmured. Goten smirked at the pair, leaning against a tree with the pitcher in hand. "I get this dance, okay?" Chessa nodded, lips parted slightly, and as the next song started she turned her attention to the violet eyed hunk before her.
I've got a book of matches
I've got a can of kerosene
I've got some bad ideas involving you and me
I don't blame you for walking away
I touched myself at thoughts of flames
I shat the bed and laid there in it
Thinking of you wide awake for days
Wide awake for days
The music was not something she'd usually dance to, but Chessa didn't object as Trunks pulled her close, his hands on her hips. The beat pumped through her, though them, and in the light of the stars and ornamental lanterns, she gave herself over to the music.
And I found you tongue-tied;
My twisted little brain
You couldn't crack a smile
I didn't catch your name
I don't blame you for walking away
I'd do the same if I saw me
I swear it's not contagious
In four short steps we can erase this
Trunks' eyes were fixed on hers, the usual intensity in them doubled, tripled, so much more. She hadn't ever seen him like this, all of his being so very focused, turned on one thing so acutely that everything else was blocked out of his world. It frightened her to be the focus of his gaze; the strength of his attention excited her. The emotions wouldn't quite settle long enough for her to catch them, flowing out through the dance and the music, their bodies never touching except for Trunks' hands resting so very firmly on her hips.
Step one—slit my throat
Step two—play in my blood
Step three—cover me in dirty sheets and run laughing out of the house
Step four—stop off at Edgebrook Creek and rinse your crimson hands
You took me hostage and made your demands
I couldn't meet them so you cut off my fingers, one by one ...
One by one ...
His hands slid slowly upward, resting on the exposed skin of her waist. He tugged her forward, a low, possessive growl growing in his throat. Her body brushed lightly against his and she turned her face up, eyes slightly lidded, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. For a moment, they stared at each other, their eyes caught in some strange trap. Trunks leaned in slowly, stopping as his breath played on Chessa's lips.
I'm like a broken record
I've got a needle scratching me
It injects the poisons of alcohol I.V.
I don't blame you for walking away
I'd do the same if I saw me
I swear it's not contagious
I swear to God it's not contagious
Goten cleared his throat, and the spell was broken. "Y'know, everyone can see you two."
Chessa blushed, stepping back from Trunks and grabbing the pitcher out of Goten's hands. There was a good third of it left and she downed it all. The jug hit the floor as she panted, eyes closed. What had—how—gods, he was her best friend!
"I'll go get some more," Trunks said gruffly, his ears red, carefully not looking at Chessa. He leaned down to pick up the fallen pitcher, the lantern light playing on his muscles as he did. Chessa's breath caught in her throat as she watched him walk off towards the refreshments, now mostly picked over. There was absolutely no way—
"There must be something in the punch," she muttered, blushing. "We should probably stop." Smiling at Goten, she brushed loose hairs out of her face, tucking them behind one ear. "After all, I feel the same way about both of you!"
Step one—slit my throat
Step two—play in my blood
Step three—cover me in dirty sheets and run laughing out of the house
Step four—stop at Lake Michigan and rinse your crimson hands
You took me hostage and made your demands
I couldn't meet them so you cut off my fingers, one by one
"Sure you do," Goten chuckled. "My mom wants to set the two of us up, but if I'm doomed to be the best friend, I can deal."
"There's nothing to deal with," Chessa said firmly, leaning against the tree by Goten. "We just got caught up in the moment."
"Really."
"It could have happened with us, too," she said firmly, grabbing Goten's shoulders. It had to have just been the night, the music, even the punch. "Dance the rest of the song with me."
Goten shrugged, placing his hands on her waist. "Whatever you say. You're the boss and all that," he replied, grinning at her as foolishly.
This could be love—love for fire
This could be love—love for fire
This could be love for fire forevermore
Chessa let the music sweep her away again. Trunks was taking longer than was necessary—he must have been as flustered about almost kissing as she was. "I absolutely love having friends like you two," she murmured, smiling at Goten.
"That's good—you're stuck with us." Goten's grin turned cheeky for a moment. His hands were much gentler on her waist than Trunks' had been.
Chessa smirked back. "Good. Then everything is going according to my plan." She giggled, leaning in to nuzzle Goten's nose. He was safe, someone she could trust absolutely. Tentatively, she brushed her lips against his.
Goten responded immediately, one hand sliding up her back to cup the back of her head. He kissed her eagerly, as if he wanted to show her everything that a kiss was as fast as he could without overwhelming her. His tongue brushed her lips, seeking permission. Before she had time to make any sort of decision, however, someone cleared their throat and the two Saiyans pulled apart.
Step one—slit my throat
Step two—play in my blood
Step three—cover me in dirty sheets and run laughing out of the house
Step four—stop at Berkley Marina and rinse your crimson hands
You took me hostage, made your demands
I couldn't meet them so you cut off my fingers, one by one
Trunks was standing there stoically—too stoically—with a fresh pitcher of punch and a plate of cookies. "Here," he said gruffly, shoving the pitcher at Goten and the plate at Chessa. "I'm going home. I'm sure you can manage to get Chessa home safely when you two are done here, Goten." Then, turning on his heel, Trunks stalked off into the trees, taking off a moment later.
One by one