This involves a yaoi pairing. If you have problems with that, don't read this.
And I mean it. I really seriously mean it. If you send me a flame and it's because
I used a yaoi pairing, I will send it back to you cussing in three different languages
saying I frickin' warned you, you stupid @$$!!!!!!! It's Tien-Yamcha. I think we all
know there's something going on there. I'm just guessing as to what it is.
All standard disclaimers apply. I do NOT own DBZ, its characters or its
trademarks. They belong to Funimation, Akira Toriyama, Pioneer, and so forth. I made no
profit off of writing this. There's no point in suing, I don't have any money anyway.
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Something to Remember-- Tien's Story
By Mako-chan the 384th
I was bored. I mean very seriously bored. I mean, I had never been this bored
before in my life. I desperately needed something to do. I had trained, and trained,
and *trained.* I was bored with that. I had spent far too much time with Tiaou-zu. We
were sick of each other at the moment, and seeing as it was a mutual thing, we had
agreed to stay apart for a bit. It wasn't a good thing for friends to be sick of each
other and still spend time together, and we knew it.
Finally I had an idea. It was a good one. I would go down to the bar. I hadn't
been there in ages. It was a really good idea. I could show my face around there again
and make the bartender remember me. His name was Tony, some sort of half American. He
had long orangey-red hair and Asian eyes. He also had these little brown dots on his
skin that he said were freckles. They were really kind of cute. But then, so was Tony.
"What to wear, though," I muttered to myself. A shopping trip was in order,
really, but I was bored. I wanted to go now. An older outfit would have to do.
I opened my closet, and pulled out a long-unused ensemble of pleather pants--
they weren't even trying to be leather, they were pleather and proud of it-- and a
large, loose, satin-silk baggy shirt. I laughed as a crazy thought ran through my head.
In this, I laughed, I could almost pass for a wannabe Lord of the Dance.
I slipped on the pants. They were every bit as tight as I remembered them
being, I thought. Maybe even a little more. I had been training, after all. My muscles
had probably grown just a bit. Looking in the mirror, I grinned. I definitely needed a
new pair. While I did like showing off, I didn't like the package outlined quite so
well as it was at the moment. The shirt went on next. Then the hard part. I shoved the
end of the shirt into the pants. That took me a long time. A really long time. The
pants were tight enough as it was, and yet here I was trying to put more in them. Next
time, I swore to myself, I would put the shirt on first. Then I put on some black
shoes-- I think it was a pair of boots. I laughed. My god, anybody who saw me would
know exactly what I was.
Well, I thought to myself, you *are* going to the bar. You might as well look
like you belong there.
My somewhat modest other self said to me, it's a good thing you have a car.
There is no way they'd let you walk down the street dressed like you are.
I told them both, shut up, I might be bored, but I'm not bored enough to make
up different personalities for myself yet. They complied. I heard nothing more from
either as I walked out the door to get out the capsule car.
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I got there, and said hey to Tony. He was ecstatic. Sometimes I think it's just
wrong to let a bartender make friends with the clientele.
"Hi, Tien," he had said, grinning from ear to ear and grasping my hand, "I
thought you had been dead for at least a week by now."
"Missed me?" I asked him cutely.
"I missed looking at your gorgeous ass," he replied, chuckling.
"Oh, come on, in these pants you can see it's not that great," I laughed. "I
missed you too, Tony."
"What did you miss the most about me?" he asked eagerly.
"The fact that I can always wheedle you into giving me at least one free drink,"
I said, laughing again. Man, this guy really knew how to cheer me up.
"Oh come on," he said, pouting.
"Oh, alright, I hate to admit it but I missed your cute face too," I told him.
He grinned again.
"Yeah, everybody thinks I'm pretty," he said, happy. "Want that free drink now?"
"Later," I answered. "I'm gonna see if anybody's here first."
"Kazu-chan moved," Tony informed me, frowning finally. "I miss him."
"Oh, that's too bad," I said. "He was really cute too." We spared a moment of
silence for Kazu-chan. "Alright, I'll have that drink in honor of him."
"Killian's Red?" he asked. "I hope I remember right."
"As always," I told him. "Just a ten ounce, though."
"You got it, bishounen," he said, grinning again. He passed it to me. I lifted
it.
"To Kazu-chan," I said. Then I drank most of it. I put the almost empty glass on
the counter. "I'm really going to go see who's here now," I repeated. "Thanks for the
drink, Tony."
"You know I only give them to my favorites," he grinned, winking at me. I spent
the next hour or so flirting with every regular and most of the not-so-frequent visitors
in the club. Someone walked in. He looked familiar somehow, but he wasn't dressed like
the rest of us.
"Hey Tien," somebody said, laughing. "Bet you can't get him to let you sit with
him."
"Oh, I bet I can," I answered, laughing. "What's the bet?"
"Twenty bucks says you can't do it," was the answer.
"Fine then. I can handle that." I removed one of the smaller, more feminine men
from around my neck and stood up. For all my nonchalance about being around other guys,
however, I really hadn't gone too far with it. There was somebody in my life who just
happened to be the center of it. He didn't know it, and I didn't think at that point that
he ever would. He was completely straight-- he even had a girlfriend that I had heard
many people say was pretty. Myself, I thought she wasn't all that great, but then again,
I wasn't all that interested in girls, and I wanted her boyfriend.
I walked over to where the man had just seated himself at the bar. Tony slid him
a glass of Killian's Red as I approached, a twenty ounce glass. Must have been thirsty, I
thought, as he sipped at it. I approached, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned
around. "Do I know-" I stopped as I took in his face. Beautiful thick black hair, warm,
almost black eyes, dark skin, and a scar across one side of his face. It was a face-- and
a body-- I would know anywhere. There he sat in all his glory: Yamcha.
He grinned at me, showing his perfect teeth. "Hey Tien!" he said. He held the
Killian's up to me. "Want some?"
I absolutely could not, and I mean could *not,* figure out what he was doing here.
It was a gay bar, for god's sake! He had a girlfriend!
However, I was not about to waste a chance to sit with my secret crush and possibly
get drunk with him. "Yeah, sure," I said, sitting on the barstool next to him. I took the
glass and took a moderate sized gulp. I just had to get to the bottom of this. "What are
you doing here?" I asked him. "I mean, I didn't think that you were....." I really didn't
know how to say it; I normally didn't have to.
He looked around a little. He grabbed his glass back and drained about two inches
deep of it at one go. Then he said, "Yeah, well, me and Bulma just broke up, and I'm
celebrating by getting myself gloriously drunk," he said to me. My mind stopped. They
broke up? "Plus, you know, I figured it was time to explore a few new horizons." Oh my god.
He was kidding. He had to be kidding. If he meant that, then that meant..... that I
actually had a...... a chance!!!
I felt myself break out into a silly grin. "Yeah?" I asked. I found myself
gesturing to his clothes. He was dressed like he always was, and while I wasn't complaining,
it really wasn't the fashion of the moment in a bar like this. "You're not really dressed
for the occasion, though."
"I'm not, am I," he said softly. It almost sounded like a purr. He reached out and
grabbed a fold of my shirt, playing with it for a bit. "I didn't know I was supposed to
dress differently. Maybe you can help me out," he said. It sounded like he was flirting with
me. In fact I could swear to it. Well, that was Yamcha for you. He loved to flirt with girls.
I guess he loved to flirt with guys too.
"Sure," I offered. "You know, I thought I was the only one in our little group who
was this way." I waited for my answer. Maybe he knew something I didn't.
He paused. "I wouldn't be so sure," was his answer. "After all, I didn't know about
you." He finished his beer, and we both ordered another. And another. And another. And yet
another still. He got up to use the bathroom. I was still about half sober. Tony grabbed my
shoulder.
"What?" I asked him.
"That the guy?"
"Yup." I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had told him all about Yamcha--
most likely more than the poor guy wanted to know.
"One lucky guy," he said, shaking his head and smiling. He walked off. To this day
I am not sure which one of us he meant by that.
"Hey Tony!" I called to him. He turned around.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Look, can you drop us off?" I asked him. "On your way home, I mean. He's already
pretty drunk, and I will be by the time it's time to go home."
"Sure," he said, smiling. "Long as you don't chuck on the seats."
"I promise," I laughed. Then the one guy who had given me the bet came over.
"You did it," he said. "And really fast. I want to know how. He didn't hardly look
approachable." He pouted, then handed me the twenty dollars.
"Pleasure doin' business with you," I said, smiling. I slipped the money into my
wallet, and back into my shirt-- hey, there was absolutely no way in hell I was getting
that wallet in a pocket of those pants! I ordered another Killian's, and things finally
started to get a little blurry. I do remember that when Yamcha came back he tried to sit
on his seat, missed it entirely and ended up on my lap instead, and didn't move. It was
really too bad I was drunk, but I *was*. I don't even remember Tony driving us anywhere.
*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
I woke up with the worst hangover I had had for the past six months. To top it
all off, the curtains were open. I groaned, and then shot a hand out to close the
curtains. "Much better," I muttered to myself. Then my arm went out to the nightstand.
"Damn. Where did that Advil go?"
A hand and an arm traced from the middle of my chest to my shoulder to my elbow
to my hand, slow and sensual. "Don't worry about it. We can sleep it off," a familiar
voice said. The voice of my own personal god. Yamcha.
My muscles all tightened at once. I could not, for the life of me, remember so
much as one moment of last night. At least, not last night in bed with him. "Yamcha?" I
asked.
He cuddled up against me. I relaxed. It felt so good to have him there against
me. "Don't worry, Tien," he said to me softly. "I don't remember either."
Well, that was a relief. At least it wasn't just me. "I was hoping that at least
one of us would remember, but it makes it less embarrassing that we both don't," I told
him. Then my headache reattacked. I groaned. "Damn, I hate hangovers."
"So do I," he said. I hugged him. It felt so good just to have him there. Next
to me. Like we had been..... Well, we *had* been intimate last night! That just might
have had something to do with it.
"This feels so right," I thought out loud. I loosened my grip on him slowly and
reluctantly. Then I had a thought. Yamcha might have liked a bit of a wake up call. "Do
you want some coffee?" I asked him.
"Not really," he informed me, "but I think I should. Maybe it would help with the
hangover just a tad bit."
Great, I thought. This means moving. I sat up. At which point I found my legs
twisted up in his. We finally managed to untangle ourselves. Then I said, as cheerfully
as I could, "If I have to get up, you do."
"Fine then. Give me your robe," he demanded.
I was surprised, to say the least. "What?" I asked.
"If anybody's going to have to wrap your sheets around their waist, it's going to
be you," he said, laughing. "Now hand it over."
He had engineered it so that we didn't have to look at each other. He had some
modesty and so, I discovered uncomfortably, did I. I stood up, pulling a sheet with me
and doing just as he had said, wrapping it around my waist. I moved to where my robe
normally was, found it, and tossed it at him. I had expected him to catch it, of course.
He did... with his head.
"Tien, don't throw things at me in the morning," he said, his voice muffled by
the terrycloth. I couldn't help it. I laughed. He didn't tell me to stop or anything,
just removed the robe from his head and covered the rest of his body with it. Then we
both went to get some coffee.
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I watched him. He kept shifting in his seat, and he was looking none too happy.
I wondered what was wrong, but didn't say anything until he asked for painkillers. "I
would take that Advil now," he said, shifting again.
I hated seeing Yamcha uncomfortable. I went over to his side of the table and
draped an arm around his shoulders. "What's wrong, Yamcha?" I asked him softly.
"I hurt," he said, wincing and making a face. Instinctively I hugged him, trying
to make him feel better.
"Where?" I asked him. I swear, I have no idea why I asked such a stupid question.
But he gave me this look that said 'how stupid can you get'. I sweatdropped. Apparently,
things had not gone the way I would have thought they did. Poor guy, that must have hurt
him. I looked later-- not very much later-- and the lubricant I had gotten a few days
before was still unopened. "Oh. Sorry," I said. I couldn't believe I had been so
incredibly stupid to ask that. I also had never, and I mean *never*, intended to cause
him pain. Then I had an idea that might make up for things a little. "Stand up," I told
him.
"Wha-- okay." He stood up, and I sat down in his chair. He gave me a 'you've gone
nuts' look. I sweatdropped again.
I patted my leg a bit, feeling pretty stupid. "Come sit down now," I invited him,
feeling extremely weird about all of this. "Maybe it'll be a little better than sitting on
hardwood."
He slowly sat down on my lap. He sipped his coffee. Then he stopped for a second,
turned around, held it up and grinned at me. "Hey Tien," he said. "Want some?"
I laughed. "Haven't we had this conversation before?" I asked him. However, I did
take the coffee and drink a bit of it, then handed it back to him. He put it down, then
looked at his hands. While he was looking down, I noticed the curve of his neck. I couldn't
help it.
I kissed him.
His neck, to be precise.
Then I moved down a little, to the little dip he has between his shoulder and his
neck. One of my hands slid up to his hair, the other one held him tightly to me. "You are
so beautiful," I murmered to him. He turned his head and our mouths met. He tasted like
mocha. As, I'm sure, did I.
"Ease up around the abs, wouldya?" he groaned. I stopped kissing him. My arms slid
back away from him.
"Sory, Yamcha," I started to babble. "I wasn't really meaning for things to get
started this morning again. Or ever, really."
He stopped me, grabbing my hand that still played with his hair. "Please tell me
you don't mean that," he said, pleading, almost panicking.
Ashamed of myself, I studied the pattern of the wood in the floor. "No. Only I
thought you wouldn't.... want me anymore," I confessed.
"Why not?" he asked me. "For one, I can't even remember having you having you in
the first place." I almost winced. That hurt. Then he turned my face gently towards his.
"And for two, I never have a one night stand." Great. So he was going to pursue this
relationship because he felt obligated. Then he kissed me. "And for three," he said
breathlessly, "I like you too much for that."
I couldn't help it. I smiled a bit. "Really? You mean it?"
"Definitely," he replied. I kissed him, long and hard. When I drew back, he made
a comment. "Now tell me more about myself," he commanded.
I smiled. "Egomaniac," I said, not really meaning it. "I wonder how much hairgel
you use a day."
"Not as much as you'd think," was the cheerful answer.
"Well," I said, grinning, "however much it is, keep it up. You look really great."
Then I went back to paying attention to his neck until I heard him say something a little
disturbing.
"From the neck down, maybe," he muttered. I almost didn't hear him.
I stopped completely. "What did you say?" I asked him.
"Nothing," he said. It was too late. I had heard him.
"No, I heard that. Why would you think that?" I asked him.
He sat for a long moment. Then he took one of my hands in his and guided it slowly
to the scar on his face. He had to be kidding, right? That had to be at least half of what
made him so cute. I bent down and kissed his scar, tracing it with my lips. "Do you believe
me now?" I asked softly. After all, I didn't have to be loud. I was right next to his ear.
He nodded, and looked at me. His eyes were shining. "Good," I said quietly. I worked my way
to his lips, then stopped for just a second. "Let's go to the bedroom," I said. He nodded
again. We stood up, still kissing. Stumbling, we made our way down the hallway. My hand
found the doorknob, and I both opened and closed the door. I remembered it this time.
And I mean it. I really seriously mean it. If you send me a flame and it's because
I used a yaoi pairing, I will send it back to you cussing in three different languages
saying I frickin' warned you, you stupid @$$!!!!!!! It's Tien-Yamcha. I think we all
know there's something going on there. I'm just guessing as to what it is.
All standard disclaimers apply. I do NOT own DBZ, its characters or its
trademarks. They belong to Funimation, Akira Toriyama, Pioneer, and so forth. I made no
profit off of writing this. There's no point in suing, I don't have any money anyway.
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Something to Remember-- Tien's Story
By Mako-chan the 384th
I was bored. I mean very seriously bored. I mean, I had never been this bored
before in my life. I desperately needed something to do. I had trained, and trained,
and *trained.* I was bored with that. I had spent far too much time with Tiaou-zu. We
were sick of each other at the moment, and seeing as it was a mutual thing, we had
agreed to stay apart for a bit. It wasn't a good thing for friends to be sick of each
other and still spend time together, and we knew it.
Finally I had an idea. It was a good one. I would go down to the bar. I hadn't
been there in ages. It was a really good idea. I could show my face around there again
and make the bartender remember me. His name was Tony, some sort of half American. He
had long orangey-red hair and Asian eyes. He also had these little brown dots on his
skin that he said were freckles. They were really kind of cute. But then, so was Tony.
"What to wear, though," I muttered to myself. A shopping trip was in order,
really, but I was bored. I wanted to go now. An older outfit would have to do.
I opened my closet, and pulled out a long-unused ensemble of pleather pants--
they weren't even trying to be leather, they were pleather and proud of it-- and a
large, loose, satin-silk baggy shirt. I laughed as a crazy thought ran through my head.
In this, I laughed, I could almost pass for a wannabe Lord of the Dance.
I slipped on the pants. They were every bit as tight as I remembered them
being, I thought. Maybe even a little more. I had been training, after all. My muscles
had probably grown just a bit. Looking in the mirror, I grinned. I definitely needed a
new pair. While I did like showing off, I didn't like the package outlined quite so
well as it was at the moment. The shirt went on next. Then the hard part. I shoved the
end of the shirt into the pants. That took me a long time. A really long time. The
pants were tight enough as it was, and yet here I was trying to put more in them. Next
time, I swore to myself, I would put the shirt on first. Then I put on some black
shoes-- I think it was a pair of boots. I laughed. My god, anybody who saw me would
know exactly what I was.
Well, I thought to myself, you *are* going to the bar. You might as well look
like you belong there.
My somewhat modest other self said to me, it's a good thing you have a car.
There is no way they'd let you walk down the street dressed like you are.
I told them both, shut up, I might be bored, but I'm not bored enough to make
up different personalities for myself yet. They complied. I heard nothing more from
either as I walked out the door to get out the capsule car.
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I got there, and said hey to Tony. He was ecstatic. Sometimes I think it's just
wrong to let a bartender make friends with the clientele.
"Hi, Tien," he had said, grinning from ear to ear and grasping my hand, "I
thought you had been dead for at least a week by now."
"Missed me?" I asked him cutely.
"I missed looking at your gorgeous ass," he replied, chuckling.
"Oh, come on, in these pants you can see it's not that great," I laughed. "I
missed you too, Tony."
"What did you miss the most about me?" he asked eagerly.
"The fact that I can always wheedle you into giving me at least one free drink,"
I said, laughing again. Man, this guy really knew how to cheer me up.
"Oh come on," he said, pouting.
"Oh, alright, I hate to admit it but I missed your cute face too," I told him.
He grinned again.
"Yeah, everybody thinks I'm pretty," he said, happy. "Want that free drink now?"
"Later," I answered. "I'm gonna see if anybody's here first."
"Kazu-chan moved," Tony informed me, frowning finally. "I miss him."
"Oh, that's too bad," I said. "He was really cute too." We spared a moment of
silence for Kazu-chan. "Alright, I'll have that drink in honor of him."
"Killian's Red?" he asked. "I hope I remember right."
"As always," I told him. "Just a ten ounce, though."
"You got it, bishounen," he said, grinning again. He passed it to me. I lifted
it.
"To Kazu-chan," I said. Then I drank most of it. I put the almost empty glass on
the counter. "I'm really going to go see who's here now," I repeated. "Thanks for the
drink, Tony."
"You know I only give them to my favorites," he grinned, winking at me. I spent
the next hour or so flirting with every regular and most of the not-so-frequent visitors
in the club. Someone walked in. He looked familiar somehow, but he wasn't dressed like
the rest of us.
"Hey Tien," somebody said, laughing. "Bet you can't get him to let you sit with
him."
"Oh, I bet I can," I answered, laughing. "What's the bet?"
"Twenty bucks says you can't do it," was the answer.
"Fine then. I can handle that." I removed one of the smaller, more feminine men
from around my neck and stood up. For all my nonchalance about being around other guys,
however, I really hadn't gone too far with it. There was somebody in my life who just
happened to be the center of it. He didn't know it, and I didn't think at that point that
he ever would. He was completely straight-- he even had a girlfriend that I had heard
many people say was pretty. Myself, I thought she wasn't all that great, but then again,
I wasn't all that interested in girls, and I wanted her boyfriend.
I walked over to where the man had just seated himself at the bar. Tony slid him
a glass of Killian's Red as I approached, a twenty ounce glass. Must have been thirsty, I
thought, as he sipped at it. I approached, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned
around. "Do I know-" I stopped as I took in his face. Beautiful thick black hair, warm,
almost black eyes, dark skin, and a scar across one side of his face. It was a face-- and
a body-- I would know anywhere. There he sat in all his glory: Yamcha.
He grinned at me, showing his perfect teeth. "Hey Tien!" he said. He held the
Killian's up to me. "Want some?"
I absolutely could not, and I mean could *not,* figure out what he was doing here.
It was a gay bar, for god's sake! He had a girlfriend!
However, I was not about to waste a chance to sit with my secret crush and possibly
get drunk with him. "Yeah, sure," I said, sitting on the barstool next to him. I took the
glass and took a moderate sized gulp. I just had to get to the bottom of this. "What are
you doing here?" I asked him. "I mean, I didn't think that you were....." I really didn't
know how to say it; I normally didn't have to.
He looked around a little. He grabbed his glass back and drained about two inches
deep of it at one go. Then he said, "Yeah, well, me and Bulma just broke up, and I'm
celebrating by getting myself gloriously drunk," he said to me. My mind stopped. They
broke up? "Plus, you know, I figured it was time to explore a few new horizons." Oh my god.
He was kidding. He had to be kidding. If he meant that, then that meant..... that I
actually had a...... a chance!!!
I felt myself break out into a silly grin. "Yeah?" I asked. I found myself
gesturing to his clothes. He was dressed like he always was, and while I wasn't complaining,
it really wasn't the fashion of the moment in a bar like this. "You're not really dressed
for the occasion, though."
"I'm not, am I," he said softly. It almost sounded like a purr. He reached out and
grabbed a fold of my shirt, playing with it for a bit. "I didn't know I was supposed to
dress differently. Maybe you can help me out," he said. It sounded like he was flirting with
me. In fact I could swear to it. Well, that was Yamcha for you. He loved to flirt with girls.
I guess he loved to flirt with guys too.
"Sure," I offered. "You know, I thought I was the only one in our little group who
was this way." I waited for my answer. Maybe he knew something I didn't.
He paused. "I wouldn't be so sure," was his answer. "After all, I didn't know about
you." He finished his beer, and we both ordered another. And another. And another. And yet
another still. He got up to use the bathroom. I was still about half sober. Tony grabbed my
shoulder.
"What?" I asked him.
"That the guy?"
"Yup." I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had told him all about Yamcha--
most likely more than the poor guy wanted to know.
"One lucky guy," he said, shaking his head and smiling. He walked off. To this day
I am not sure which one of us he meant by that.
"Hey Tony!" I called to him. He turned around.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Look, can you drop us off?" I asked him. "On your way home, I mean. He's already
pretty drunk, and I will be by the time it's time to go home."
"Sure," he said, smiling. "Long as you don't chuck on the seats."
"I promise," I laughed. Then the one guy who had given me the bet came over.
"You did it," he said. "And really fast. I want to know how. He didn't hardly look
approachable." He pouted, then handed me the twenty dollars.
"Pleasure doin' business with you," I said, smiling. I slipped the money into my
wallet, and back into my shirt-- hey, there was absolutely no way in hell I was getting
that wallet in a pocket of those pants! I ordered another Killian's, and things finally
started to get a little blurry. I do remember that when Yamcha came back he tried to sit
on his seat, missed it entirely and ended up on my lap instead, and didn't move. It was
really too bad I was drunk, but I *was*. I don't even remember Tony driving us anywhere.
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I woke up with the worst hangover I had had for the past six months. To top it
all off, the curtains were open. I groaned, and then shot a hand out to close the
curtains. "Much better," I muttered to myself. Then my arm went out to the nightstand.
"Damn. Where did that Advil go?"
A hand and an arm traced from the middle of my chest to my shoulder to my elbow
to my hand, slow and sensual. "Don't worry about it. We can sleep it off," a familiar
voice said. The voice of my own personal god. Yamcha.
My muscles all tightened at once. I could not, for the life of me, remember so
much as one moment of last night. At least, not last night in bed with him. "Yamcha?" I
asked.
He cuddled up against me. I relaxed. It felt so good to have him there against
me. "Don't worry, Tien," he said to me softly. "I don't remember either."
Well, that was a relief. At least it wasn't just me. "I was hoping that at least
one of us would remember, but it makes it less embarrassing that we both don't," I told
him. Then my headache reattacked. I groaned. "Damn, I hate hangovers."
"So do I," he said. I hugged him. It felt so good just to have him there. Next
to me. Like we had been..... Well, we *had* been intimate last night! That just might
have had something to do with it.
"This feels so right," I thought out loud. I loosened my grip on him slowly and
reluctantly. Then I had a thought. Yamcha might have liked a bit of a wake up call. "Do
you want some coffee?" I asked him.
"Not really," he informed me, "but I think I should. Maybe it would help with the
hangover just a tad bit."
Great, I thought. This means moving. I sat up. At which point I found my legs
twisted up in his. We finally managed to untangle ourselves. Then I said, as cheerfully
as I could, "If I have to get up, you do."
"Fine then. Give me your robe," he demanded.
I was surprised, to say the least. "What?" I asked.
"If anybody's going to have to wrap your sheets around their waist, it's going to
be you," he said, laughing. "Now hand it over."
He had engineered it so that we didn't have to look at each other. He had some
modesty and so, I discovered uncomfortably, did I. I stood up, pulling a sheet with me
and doing just as he had said, wrapping it around my waist. I moved to where my robe
normally was, found it, and tossed it at him. I had expected him to catch it, of course.
He did... with his head.
"Tien, don't throw things at me in the morning," he said, his voice muffled by
the terrycloth. I couldn't help it. I laughed. He didn't tell me to stop or anything,
just removed the robe from his head and covered the rest of his body with it. Then we
both went to get some coffee.
*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
I watched him. He kept shifting in his seat, and he was looking none too happy.
I wondered what was wrong, but didn't say anything until he asked for painkillers. "I
would take that Advil now," he said, shifting again.
I hated seeing Yamcha uncomfortable. I went over to his side of the table and
draped an arm around his shoulders. "What's wrong, Yamcha?" I asked him softly.
"I hurt," he said, wincing and making a face. Instinctively I hugged him, trying
to make him feel better.
"Where?" I asked him. I swear, I have no idea why I asked such a stupid question.
But he gave me this look that said 'how stupid can you get'. I sweatdropped. Apparently,
things had not gone the way I would have thought they did. Poor guy, that must have hurt
him. I looked later-- not very much later-- and the lubricant I had gotten a few days
before was still unopened. "Oh. Sorry," I said. I couldn't believe I had been so
incredibly stupid to ask that. I also had never, and I mean *never*, intended to cause
him pain. Then I had an idea that might make up for things a little. "Stand up," I told
him.
"Wha-- okay." He stood up, and I sat down in his chair. He gave me a 'you've gone
nuts' look. I sweatdropped again.
I patted my leg a bit, feeling pretty stupid. "Come sit down now," I invited him,
feeling extremely weird about all of this. "Maybe it'll be a little better than sitting on
hardwood."
He slowly sat down on my lap. He sipped his coffee. Then he stopped for a second,
turned around, held it up and grinned at me. "Hey Tien," he said. "Want some?"
I laughed. "Haven't we had this conversation before?" I asked him. However, I did
take the coffee and drink a bit of it, then handed it back to him. He put it down, then
looked at his hands. While he was looking down, I noticed the curve of his neck. I couldn't
help it.
I kissed him.
His neck, to be precise.
Then I moved down a little, to the little dip he has between his shoulder and his
neck. One of my hands slid up to his hair, the other one held him tightly to me. "You are
so beautiful," I murmered to him. He turned his head and our mouths met. He tasted like
mocha. As, I'm sure, did I.
"Ease up around the abs, wouldya?" he groaned. I stopped kissing him. My arms slid
back away from him.
"Sory, Yamcha," I started to babble. "I wasn't really meaning for things to get
started this morning again. Or ever, really."
He stopped me, grabbing my hand that still played with his hair. "Please tell me
you don't mean that," he said, pleading, almost panicking.
Ashamed of myself, I studied the pattern of the wood in the floor. "No. Only I
thought you wouldn't.... want me anymore," I confessed.
"Why not?" he asked me. "For one, I can't even remember having you having you in
the first place." I almost winced. That hurt. Then he turned my face gently towards his.
"And for two, I never have a one night stand." Great. So he was going to pursue this
relationship because he felt obligated. Then he kissed me. "And for three," he said
breathlessly, "I like you too much for that."
I couldn't help it. I smiled a bit. "Really? You mean it?"
"Definitely," he replied. I kissed him, long and hard. When I drew back, he made
a comment. "Now tell me more about myself," he commanded.
I smiled. "Egomaniac," I said, not really meaning it. "I wonder how much hairgel
you use a day."
"Not as much as you'd think," was the cheerful answer.
"Well," I said, grinning, "however much it is, keep it up. You look really great."
Then I went back to paying attention to his neck until I heard him say something a little
disturbing.
"From the neck down, maybe," he muttered. I almost didn't hear him.
I stopped completely. "What did you say?" I asked him.
"Nothing," he said. It was too late. I had heard him.
"No, I heard that. Why would you think that?" I asked him.
He sat for a long moment. Then he took one of my hands in his and guided it slowly
to the scar on his face. He had to be kidding, right? That had to be at least half of what
made him so cute. I bent down and kissed his scar, tracing it with my lips. "Do you believe
me now?" I asked softly. After all, I didn't have to be loud. I was right next to his ear.
He nodded, and looked at me. His eyes were shining. "Good," I said quietly. I worked my way
to his lips, then stopped for just a second. "Let's go to the bedroom," I said. He nodded
again. We stood up, still kissing. Stumbling, we made our way down the hallway. My hand
found the doorknob, and I both opened and closed the door. I remembered it this time.