Back Against the Wall
Chapter 3
Whiskey
Piccolo could clearly hear the sharp snap of steel hitting steel in the kitchen from the small bedroom. He had declined dinner twice before Bulma and Gohan had left the room, offended but with a silent promise to return regardless. He scowled at the thought. The novelty of waking up in this world, of wearing these stupid clothes, of feeling tired and sore and irritated; it had worn off. A slow, boiling temper had brewed into a vicious headache and he had snapped at the other two. Gohan had closed the door calmly behind him, unfazed. If it were physically possible to be angrier, he would be.
He stood and walked to the window, rough fabric scratching ever so slightly as he walked. Denim, his mind supplied. Images of advertisements stretched across billboards at the side of the road, framed by glittering metal in the sun, with humans dressed in various colours of denim. The contrast between those memories and the actual view from the window was staggering. A two metre gap between the window pane and the burgundy wall of the next building greeted him with a closed stillness; one that only inanimate objects can properly convey. The pale pinkish curtains were faded, as if pretending they had ever seen the sun, framing a windowsill with a dust layer so thick he felt unclean. Piccolo felt his throat close up. He needed to be outside, away from this strange situation and the faux Gohan mixing pots of who cares what in the room adjacent.
He placed one strong hand flat against the window pane. A moment went by before he withdrew it, realising quickly how childish and self indulgent he was being. He had fought so many battles, put himself through hell and back training, he had even died. If in doubt, he also had his father's horrific memories to fall back on. So what's the problem? This is just another shit situation like so many others. His mind answered the rhetorical question against his will. It's because this isn't a battle, no one is fighting.
Gohan pushed the bedroom door open slowly, as if expecting to be pounced on by a wild animal. Piccolo continued to look into the glass as the half Saiyan's reflection came into view. The scar on his face stood out, angry and unwelcome. He remained in the doorway, voice booming into the quiet room.
"I know this isn't ideal. But you should eat, it will make our water supplies last longer"
The Namek almost smirked at the use of inarguable logic. Before taking the young Gohan in he would not have given a second thought to anyone's supplies, or their survival. How things have changed. He's using my weaknesses against me. He swallowed his rage.
Piccolo turned and nodded. Gohan flashed half a smile and left the room.
The wooden table held a modest amount of food, and Piccolo raised a brow ridge at just how Gohan was going to feed that outrageous appetite. He had prepared some meat, the smell of which the Namek wrinkled his nose at, and some rice for himself and Bulma. Once again, he gingerly sat down on the spare chair, as if it would easily crumble into a thousand pieces. A bowl of hot vegetable soup sat obnoxiously in front of him.
"Sorry, it probably won't be the best thing you'll ever taste. Vegetables only come tinned these days!"
Gohan's words had mirth, and he swallowed with a smile. How do you stay so optimistic?
"Bulma was just telling me what her tests had come up with"
Her small hand rested the fork for a moment and she smirked sadly.
"It's not much I'm afraid, but I don't think you are here intentionally...exactly" she leaned back in the chair and it creaked in protest "the ions I detected where you arrived, they're similar to the ones I postulated would exist in a temporal event. In that, when something travels back or forward in time it displaces the volume it...arrives in, and leaves a trace behind"
Piccolo stared, not really following, and so she elaborated, picking up her fork in full teacher mode.
"So if this fork travelled forward in time it would appear in exactly this spot but say...tomorrow. So my theory goes, that the air it displaces when it arrives, must be transported back in time 1 day to replace the vacuum the fork created when it disappeared"
Gohan tapped his forearm. Piccolo's face remained impassive as he processed the information, finding the tapping distracting and loud. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of fine black hair covering the half Saiyan's skin. His deep voice made Bulma jump slightly.
"So, someone or something travelled back in time to the precise place I occupied, and you think we...exchanged places?"
Bulma grinned, Piccolo was known for being intelligent but she'd had few chances to witness it. Gohan hummed, as if not quite believing the theory.
"I'm not sure, if that's the case, something from our time must have travelled back...and who would be capable of that now? I mean except you Bulma, of course"
She stabbed the silver fork into a chunk of unnameable meat.
"That! Is the question. I'll have to work on it. But if it's true, maybe there's hope for us to go back and change all this. Even if it takes years, which I imagine it would. But if someone has done it already..." she trailed off.
Piccolo dipped the spoon into the soup before raising it to his lips tentatively. Gohan mulled over Bulma's ideas and had stopped eating altogether for a moment as he watched the Namek. Very little passed for entertainment these days and he couldn't help but be fascinated with their newcomer. Piccolo's hand dwarfed the small spoon, and he smirked, they had lost all the big ones a year ago or so. Bulma wolfed down the rest of her modest dinner, and stood rather dramatically.
"Right, thanks for dinner sweetie, but I've got so much work to do." She kissed Gohan's cheek and he laughed as she walked away with purpose.
Piccolo wondered again if they were in one of those romantic human relationships, not that it should matter to him. It brought up a strange feeling, like he found it interesting, like he cared. He ignored it and continued to eat the soup. Gohan's fork dropped rice as he raised it, he longed for chopsticks, but with a chipper voice he changed the subject.
"How are you feeling? Settled in a bit more?"
"Fine"
Piccolo felt dreadful, but it was not in his nature to admit such a thing. He had as much soup as he could manage, the weight of the nutrients felt like thick watery bricks in his stomach but he still felt thirsty. He wondered if this was a feeling he should get used to sooner rather than later.
"I know this is all kinda strange, and I know you'd rather be outside training by a waterfall, but just bear with us ok?" And don't leave.
The Namek grunted his agreement and Gohan gestured towards the bowl with raised brows. It took a moment for Piccolo to understand that Gohan wanted the rest of his soup.
"Oh...sure"
In the soft light of the kitchen, Piccolo watched Gohan eat. Soft shallow wrinkles would appear when the older man laughed or smiled, and stubble on his cheeks would glint in the light as he moved, a shade lighter than the rest of his dark hair. He knew little of humans but knew enough that the other man looked older than he was, like he had been responsible for too much already, world weary.
That had been a Wednesday, he had found out later, and the days had continued on in the same fashion. He would not intend to sleep, but would sleep anyway, then he would wake, meditate, they would eat soup, he would hate it, he would meditate. Trunks would try to make conversation with him but the young man would grow tired quickly of Piccolo's stoicism. Bulma made a comment to Gohan in the kitchen, forgetting that he could hear them.
'I feel like he's distancing himself Bulma'
'...he's not the same Piccolo, you have to remember that'.
The comment had stuck in his mind like an annoying tune Gohan used to whistle, playing over and over. He absolutely didn't care. He didn't.
That was nearly two weeks ago. Piccolo sat in the little room he had been unintentionally assigned, the pale cream bed sheets had been stripped that morning by Trunks, one of his chores apparently, to be cleaned. It hardly seemed necessary, since he had avoided the bed entirely after the first couple of days. He contemplated, like every other day, just leaving but like every other day, the knowledge that his doing so may expose them made him grimace. He could leave quickly and just keep going, lead the Androids away from them even, and every time he stood up to do exactly that, he didn't. These conflicting, contradictory feelings were making him irritable. A voice in his mind somewhere told him he didn't even know where on the planet he was.
The Androids were in the region at the moment apparently, but Bulma had loudly complained that they had run out of essentials. Gohan had been gone for several days, scouting for materials, food and water, and had asked the Namek to stay and protect Bulma and Trunks. Piccolo knew that this was 100% bullshit but had grown past protesting. It's because I'm not strong enough to fight the androids. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was purgatory.
Anger brewed and he still felt tired. Every now and then he wondered if Gohan was coming back, maybe he had been killed. Would I even sense it? The thought tasted sour. These ideas circled for hours before Gohan did finally return later that evening and in good spirits, chatting avidly with Bulma in the kitchen. The sound of liquids in bags hit the floor and thirst stung in the back of his throat. A knock at the door disturbed him from his dark musings.
"What?"
Gohan walked in, seeming a little sheepish and maybe even a little guilty. He knew Piccolo wanted to leave, but he was so terrified of losing him again. He had the self awareness to know how selfish he was being, but no desire to do anything about it.
"Hey...How have you been? Still under the weather?"
Ah yes, the false condition I have been diagnosed with.
"I'm fine." He still had his pride.
"Well, I've got something…" he flashed a bottle of some amber liquid "it's not quite medicine but it will have to do"
Piccolo just looked up blankly, not really having the will to engage. Gohan's face dropped and he sat down, mirroring the Namek's cross legged stance. He noticed that Piccolo was wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. The t-shirt, he remembered had been snug on the first day, fitted him now. He had also brought two very small glasses, so small as to be incredibly inefficient, Piccolo thought.
"I've done a thorough check of the region, and I've found a pretty good area we can use to train. Bulma is designing a portable shield device for us at the moment"
Piccolo did light up slightly at the news. He tried not to show it, but Gohan could see it. Those dark orbs didn't lie, they hadn't done then and they didn't now.
"I...know how it must be, we've been living like this for so long I forget what it was like in the beginning, you know?"
He poured the pungent liquid into both glasses. It had been so long since he heard Piccolo say anything more than one word, he almost jumped at the low, rumbling tones.
"I know it's necessary"
He reached out a jade hand to Gohan's wrist and wrapped long fingers around it. The memory of his own tanned hand on the Namek's chest, as he took one last shuffling breath, came to his mind and he swallowed the guilt as Piccolo spoke.
"You have to let me help. Let me fight if I have to. I will not be a caged animal Gohan"
The authority in his strong voice sounded so much like his own Piccolo, the mentor he had always looked up to. He nodded mutely.
"You're right. I'm sorry"
Piccolo released his hand and took the proffered glass of golden liquid.
"What is this?"
Gohan laughed.
"Just...swallow it as quick as you can. It will burn but it might help you feel better for a while"
Piccolo didn't know any better, and followed the instruction without argument. Gohan cleared his throat, enjoying the sting for a moment whilst Piccolo coughed and looked at the half Saiyan accusingly.
"It's...it's poison"
"Haha! No, I know it's a little unpleasant at first but trust me, you'll learn to like it"
Piccolo did trust him. He hadn't really acknowledged that before. He also trusted that everything was unpleasant here, at first. Maybe he would get used to it. Gohan filled the glasses again and this time raised his, gesturing for the Namek to do the same.
"Ok, this time, we knock them together" Gohan tapped his glass against Piccolo's unmoving one "to...old friends!"
Piccolo sniggered softly.
"We're new friends"
"Oh, of course! To...just friends then!"
This time Piccolo did knock his glass against Gohan's and they both swallowed the bitter alcohol. White fangs touched the rim of the glass as he grinned and the half Saiyan hadn't seen such a sweet, almost flirtish smile in so long. His stomach stirred slightly, but he quickly quashed that feeling. He was projecting.
Ten minutes turned into two hours, Piccolo was resting against the wall with one leg bent, looking down the bridge of his nose at the older man. Gohan was leaning back on his hands with legs crossed and outstretched. He wondered if Piccolo had ever sat comfortably and had a drink with a friend, and then immediately felt stupid, Piccolo had probably never even contemplated sitting around just for pleasure before, let alone drinking. He had told Piccolo all the torrid stories of the Androids, of Trunks growing up and of his own family, meeting Videl. Bleak topics gave way to lighter things as Gohan told Piccolo about his alternate self, about his bravery and heroism. A light purple dusted the Namek's cheeks at the attention, and the alcohol.
Another round of drinks was poured, this was their 6th. Gohan was relatively unfazed but he could see Piccolo's eyes glazing over slightly. He leaned forward to look closer at the Namek, and sniggered. Piccolo barked.
"What?"
They were inches apart, and Piccolo immediately felt his pulse quicken.
"Do you know that you have blue, no...dark violet eyes?"
The Namek didn't answer, he was taken aback by the other man's proximity and the strange question. His answer was delayed, and speech slurred.
"They've always been that way"
Gohan shook his head and leaned back.
"No...I mean, Piccolo, the one I knew. He had black eyes, so deep and black. Isn't that interesting!"
He passed the drink to Piccolo and they knocked their glasses together once again. This time, Piccolo leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak.
"What shall we-
He continued moving forward and he landed ungracefully on Gohan and knocked the half Saiyan onto his back. Gohan exhaled loudly and laughed. After a moment, the Namek shifted, bracing his hands against the demi Saiyan's chest. Dark coloured eyes blinked at Gohan, probably unable to focus at the proximity. Gohan put his own hands over unsteady jade ones, and indulged for a moment in the warmth of the other man's body pressed against him. Felt the body heat thrum through the thin white fabric over his chest, thighs bracing his own. His body reacted too quickly and a bucket load of shame and awareness hit him square in the morals. He jerked to sit upwards, nearly sending Piccolo hurtling backwards. The Namek was laughing, properly and for no reason, and Gohan loved it. The alcohol must have tipped him over the edge now from adorably tipsy to ridiculously drunk.
He blamed his burgeoning erection on loneliness. His being had been yearning so much for contact and affection; he even found himself practicing pick up lines to a pretty girl's face on a billboard last week. He sighed internally, he knew well that this was different, his affection for Piccolo ran deep. Even deeper than that water table Bulma kept rabbiting on about. Piccolo appeared to be completely unaware of the cacophony in Gohan's head, as he continued.
"I said, what shall we raise our glasses to this time?"
The Namek seemed to belatedly realise his position and shuffled back to sit opposite Gohan again. The half Saiyan bent his knees a little and relaxed, somewhat aware that they should stop drinking before he did or said something utterly stupid, but unable to pull himself away. He raised the little glass.
"To sparring like old times"
Piccolo liked that but tried to hide it, choosing to nod instead.
"To old times"
Of course to Piccolo they were recent times but his mind was muggy and he didn't care. They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two before Piccolo blurted out a rather direct and unexpected question.
"Is that child yours?"
Gohan balked, hiccuping his response.
"Trunks? No! No...he's Vegeta's son"
Piccolo seemed to accept that readily enough, wondering if he should have guessed it. The boy did have an ego on him. Apparently, alcohol loosened Piccolo's tongue more than Gohan would have ever guessed, because he continued.
"Did you have any?"
"Children?"
"Yes"
Gohan looked down for a moment before smiling. He had forgotten that Piccolo loved children, of course it would be a topic he would bring up.
"No, we didn't really get a chance to get that far. I met her when the resistance was still around and, we think she died fighting"
The Namek felt bad, stupid for asking, then irritated for caring. He didn't know what to say so opted for silence, his go to method of dealing. The other man sensed, or rather could see the emotions playing on his companion's intoxicated features, and changed the subject. So much had happened, it was too easy to move on.
"You know, you're pretty chatty when you're drunk"
Piccolo visibly recoiled at that, purple dusting his cheeks and ears, nostrils flaring at the accusation.
"How dare you"
Then Gohan couldn't help himself, he poured them another. He shifted his behind forward so he was closer to the Namek and could see the other man swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing, too large for his now younger, lithe throat. He passed the drink over, encouraging Piccolo to drink it with competition in his eyes. Beating the Namek in battle? Difficult. Manipulating him in human settings? Easy peasy.
"I missed you"
There, he said it. The words he had wanted the world to hear since the Namek's arrival. Once he started, he found he couldn't stop. Whiskey fuelling his passionate release.
"I missed you so much, when I saw you...I couldn't believe it was really you"
He moved his scarred hand to graze his thumb over prominent cheekbones, fancying he could feel the violet blush underneath. Piccolo just stiffened, out of his depth and unable to think quickly. All the height and attitude advantage he had thought he had dissolved and suddenly, he was a hatchling caught in headlights.
Then it was happening, the thing that even Piccolo knew was coming. Gohan's other hand came to cup the back of his jade head, sliding rough hands up his neck, the contact made him shiver. No one had touched him so carefully. It was an attack he couldn't defend, he had no idea what to do. His slurred mind reached for Nail's memories in blind panic but came up short. Gohan's mahogany eyes were lidded, warm and damp. He felt himself leaning forward, lulled into the other man's warmth and kindness. He felt drawn to the strong hands that held him still, relaxed by his charming demeanor. He licked his lips without realising, and then, he bolted up and fell back onto the bed. His words had less malice in them than he had wanted.
"What are you doing?"
The demi-Saiyan looked momentarily stunned, closely followed by muted horror. What had he done? Piccolo was far too drunk. He stuttered slightly, before clearing his throat.
"Sorry, I...I guess i'm more drunk than I realised"
The white lie felt dirty on his tongue. Oh, nice one Gohan.
Having more experience with turning shitty situations into better ones, Gohan stood abruptly, brushing off his clothes as if nothing had happened.
"Well, I had a nice time. We should do it again. You might want to sleep that off though"
Piccolo looked incredulous, but didn't reply as heartily as he might have done sober. Gohan left the room, closing the door softly behind him. The Namek did sleep it off, through until the middle of the next morning. He woke up conflicted, with the mother of all headaches and a bitter taste on his tongue.
W.
