Summary: Twelve things Broly experienced for the first time.
This Fragile World
Intoxication -
When Cheelai found the cabinet with the capsules full of alcoholic beverages, and convinced Broly to have his first taste of "the good stuff", she honestly hadn't expected much to result from the evening.
In her defense, Broly was a big guy. He was a big guy, with a bigger appetite, and the biggest reserves of strength of probably any warrior in the whole universe. It did not seem outlandish to assume that it would require copious amounts of alcohol for him to even feel it. In fact, she had had half a mind to think that getting drunk would be impossible for him altogether.
She had been wrong.
She had been so wrong.
To be fair, Broly at least wasn't that sloppy in his drunkenness, which she was eternally grateful for. Admittedly, she had been a bit apprehensive once she noticed how the alcohol was beginning to affect him. Part of her couldn't help but worry when men in general drank. The way that jerk acted in the canteen on Frieza's ship—the day she first met Broly—hadn't been some fluke occurrence, at least not for her. She knew very well how men could get when they were deep in their cups. Not all, of course. Lemo, for one, only liked to sing songs and sleep (which he was doing right now, snoring very loudly over on the second couch), but enough that she had had to worry about it far too often. She couldn't deny that her feelings would have been very hurt if Broly turned out to be that way, too.
Evidently, though, she found herself feeling guilty for doubting his integrity. Broly was actually a rather amusing drunk. Kind of like an underage kid drinking more than they knew better too. Mostly, he sat there, staring into space while repeatedly wondering why his face felt numb. He stumbled a lot too, which was always a slightly horrifying experience for someone of her stature, but he wasn't loud or combative or anything else she didn't have the patience to deal with. Rather, he was...
Cuddly.
She hadn't expected that. Perhaps that was her own fault—Broly had proven more than once that she ought to expect the unexpected when it came to him. Even more for his defense, it wasn't like it had come out of nowhere. Ever since the alcohol had hit his system, he had gravitated towards her. He sat closer and closer as the night progressed, brushing his feet against hers enough that her toes were warm from the contact. In hindsight, it was very clear just where exactly they would end up.
Nonetheless, she was still wholly unprepared for when he promptly laid his head in her lap.
She felt distinctly too sober for this. She hadn't, after all, had any drinks herself other than the initial sip to help Broly feel more comfortable. After analyzing her bit-too-dark of a history with alcohol, she found it to be in her best interest to simply stay away from it altogether. Never had she regretted that choice more than now. She definitely wasn't in the right mindset to deal with the situation before her.
Broly really was too cute for his own good, she couldn't help but think as she looked down at him. He reminded her distinctly of a full-grown dog unaware that his puppy years were behind him. His cheeks were flushed a warm pink for the first time that she had ever seen. His eyes held a layer of gloss on them, so thick she wondered if he could even see her through the film. The way his eyes refused to move from hers told her he probably could.
She spent far too long staring, trying her best to catch her mind up to the current situation. It seemed more likely that Broly wouldn't even know what cuddling was, much less enjoy it. Yet here they were. Cuddling.
She laid a hand in his hair, stroking the strands in a way that was just a bit awkward. She had never been big on cuddling; probably because she had never really been conditioned for it. She couldn't remember if her parents had ever cuddled her but given how quick they were to abandon her when their family gained too many mouths to feed, she doubted they had. Likewise, the "aunts" and "uncles" who ran the orphanage that eventually picked her up also weren't big on physical touch beyond punishments. Even once she had grown up, she had never really had any boyfriends—just a handful of one-night stands with guys who were just as uninterested in cuddling as she was.
She had never really thought about that, her inaptitude in this area, that is. Was her lap too hard? Did running her fingers through his hair even feel good? He seemed to like it, but he also seemed to enjoy tripping over his own big toe not ten minutes ago so perhaps his judgement was less than reliable right now.
... Did she like it? Did she like the warm, solid weight of his head on her thighs, his coarse hair on her skin?
That was a dangerous question. The whole situation was a bit dangerous, actually. It had been a long time since she had had a guy close to her like this. Particularly a guy that... looked... like Broly.
She really shouldn't be thinking this way. Letting these thoughts develop into feelings would probably be the worst thing she could possibly do. All it would result in was a whole lot of trouble. Cheelai didn't do feelings. Cheelai could barely manage maintaining friendships. Having a relationship was so outside her realm of possibility that the physical essence of the concept might as well be back on that Earth planet entirely.
Broly hummed, breaking her from her thoughts. His eyes were narrowed and his nose was scrunched up in thought. No man his age should be able to be compared to a cute little bunny rabbit, and yet here they were.
After a while, he said, "I don't think I like this."
"No?" She stilled her fingers.
"No," he grunted, sounding very dissatisfied. "I like that."
Her heart fluttered stupidly, just a little. She started stroking again. "What do you mean then, Big Guy?"
He said, "'Feel... fuzzy."
"Fuzzy is bad?" she replied, her voice a light, teasing tone.
He seemed to think about that quite seriously. He said, "Moving feels weird." He demonstrated by raising his arm in the air. The motion was, indeed, very unsteady.
"Well, you could just not move." She pointedly did not think about how a part of her really didn't want him too.
"No. It's—it's," he huffed, looking the most frustrated she had seen him in a while.
She scratched closer to his ear. "It's okay. Tell me what you're tryna say, Big Guy."
He looked as if he were in deep thought, even as her ministrations had his eyes closing in contentment.
"Don't like not being in control," he said after a while. "Hurt people when I'm not in control."
She paused at that. Once again, he was dissatisfied, but figuring out how to word her response correctly took precedent.
"Well," she said, gently, like her own fingers in his hair, "you're not hurting me now."
"Don't ever want to hurt Cheelai."
She smiled. "I doubt you even could, Big Guy."
He hummed in agreement. "Cheelai's too nice to hurt."
She giggled, like a schoolgirl talking to her crush. Beyond ridiculous. "You're probably the only person in the world who thinks that."
"It's true," he said, stubbornly.
He was so badly misinformed, the poor thing. She would hardly call someone like her—someone who once made a living pickpocketing and scamming, someone who threatened more people than she could count with her beloved ray gun, someone who couldn't even say that the ship she and Lemo had taken from Frieza was the first or even the second ship she had stolen—a nice person.
She tried to fit Broly into even one of those scenarios and found that she couldn't. She supposed she was nice to him. She didn't think that was a reflection of her, though. Rather, she thought it was a reflection of him. It was Broly who brought the kindness out of her. It was Broly who reminded her what it was like to simply look at the world around her and see something worth treasuring. It was because of Broly that she was able to look at him and Lemo and see friends.
It was Broly who was, currently, nuzzling his nose against her stomach.
"Broly?" she said, squeaking only a little.
"Smell good," he said, sleepily, sweetly, dangerously.
She... might be in trouble.
TBC