Yamcha sat on one of the many benches lining the busy streets of West City's shopping district, watching with furrowed brows as the various shoppers walked by on their business. Before, he might have focused on the couples, staring at them with unrequited longing at what they had. Now, however, he hardly took notice of them at all. He stared right through the bustling crowds, ignoring all of their chattering and laughter. He no longer had any reason to be jealous of them. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
He'd come alone, leaving both Piccolo and Puar at home. Piccolo never had the habit to badger him about where he was going, being of the opinion that Yamcha was a grown-ass man and deserved some moments of privacy, even if they were a couple. Yamcha certainly appreciated that level of trust and respect for personal space – something he supposed, upon reflection, Piccolo of all people would understand – but he had no intention of abusing it. Today, however, he was rather glad that he was allowed such freedom. It served his purposes quite nicely.
Yamcha had spent the majority of the morning hunting through shop after shop, desperately searching for… Well, he wasn't sure what he was looking for. Alas, with Piccolo, he'd run into the same problem he'd faced when he used to date Bulma; the guy was impossible to buy a gift for.
With the approach of summer came one event that Yamcha was completely unprepared for; Piccolo's birthday was fast approaching. It wasn't his real birthday, of course – Yamcha was sure of that much. The true date of the ancient Namekian warrior's birth was likely lost to time and the reaches of space. What took its place was the date that he'd been taken in by his adopted mother. He wasn't sure if his lover had ever celebrated the date, but he was certain he hadn't done so for many centuries regardless. That afforded the former bandit a chance to surprise him, something he rarely got to do.
But then, what could he possibly buy that would mean anything to Piccolo? The guy seemed to have the ability to create literally anything he wanted out of thin air, making anything he could get him superfluous. He had only two options when it came to getting a meaningful gift; he could get him something with some historical weight behind it – something that would be meaningless if it was simply replicated. Such a thing was hard to come by, especially since what constituted as 'history' for Piccolo that wouldn't remind him of painful times would have to have been well over nine-hundred years old. The only other thing he could think of was something intangible – an experience rather than a material gift. The former would likely be far outside his budget, even considering his substantial fortune gained from his last season of professional baseball, and the latter… Well, he had no idea where he'd even start with something like that.
"Yamcha..?"
Yamcha jumped slightly when he was addressed out of nowhere. He looked up, his eyes widening when he came face to face with a familiar figure. Bulma stood over him, her clear blue eyes gazing at him in genuine surprise at finding him there. The shopping bags dangling from her arm suggested that she'd come for a bit of what – for her – was a bout of light shopping. She stared down at him in mild bewilderment, unused to him frequenting such a place. Yamcha was overcome with mild embarrassment, greeting his ex with a nervous chuckle.
"O-oh, hey, Bulma! What're you doing here?" he asked, trying to appear as casual as possible. It didn't seem to work.
"I think a better question would be, what are you doing here?" she questioned, cocking a thin blue eyebrow suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be off with your boyfriend or something?"
"Yeah, about that…" he replied with an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. "That's actually why I'm out here alone. I'm looking for a gift for him."
"Oh, really?!" she asked excitedly, immediately settling herself on the bench seat next to him. "What's the occasion? It's way too early for any sort of anniversary, unless you two were secretly dating during that whole Cell thing."
"N-no, nothing like that!" he said, his cheeks growing hot despite himself. "It's, uhh… Actually, his birthday's coming up in about a week, so I just thought—"
The gasp that interrupted his thoughts was so high-pitched that he was sure there were dogs for miles that would hear it.
"It's his birthday?!" she squealed out, staring up at him with stars sparkling in her eyes. He couldn't help but let out a groan, already seeing the gears start to turn in her head. "Oh my gosh, when is it?! I simply have to plan a par—"
"No!" Yamcha interrupted rather forcefully, cutting her off before she could utter that dreaded word. "H-he's a really reserved guy, y'know? He'd absolutely hate to have a big party, especially one where he's the center of attention. If you don't mind, I'd like to keep this kinda on the down-low…"
Bulma stared up at him for a moment, at first seeming a bit offended at him for interrupting her favorite past-time of party planning. Then, as he explained his reasoning, her expression dissolved into a soft smile.
"Y'know what? That's actually really sweet of you. Alright, I promise there won't be a party. I'm sure you'd prefer to celebrate in private anyway." That last sentence was spoken a bit suggestively, complete with a teasing elbow jab to the ribs. Yamcha couldn't help but blush even harder than that, averting his eyes to somewhere on the floor to avoid her teasing gaze.
It was in that moment that something occurred to Yamcha. He felt different around Bulma than he had the previous year. No longer did he pine to have her back, no more was he stricken with intense jealousy anytime he thought of her being with Vegeta. He ventured to guess he could even look Trunks in the eye without flinching anymore. He didn't need to think long on the reason for this startling change; he'd found all he'd ever needed in Piccolo.
Bulma, for her part, seemed to regard him differently as well. No longer did she react with that same sort of jealousy when the subject of him dating someone else came about. The both of them seemed to be content with how things were between them. Finally – finally – it seemed like each of them had managed to move on from one another. It felt like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and he was sure Bulma felt that same relief. Now that he wasn't aiming to woo her, he felt that he could now be his honest self in front of her. He felt free to just be her friend. Ironically, he'd never felt closer to her than in that very situation.
"So, what were you thinking of getting him?"
Yamcha was tugged from his thoughts abruptly when Bulma continued their conversation from a moment ago. He glanced down at her briefly, before looking away awkwardly and blushing once more.
"Th-that's sort of my problem, actually… I've been trying to figure out something all day, but nothing comes to mind. Anything I could buy for him wouldn't really mean anything, since he can make anything he wants out of thin air. I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"
Bulma's face twisted into a mild pout, her eyes staring off into the middle distance as she thought on it for a moment.
"Hmmm… Well, what are his interests exactly?"
"Well… He seems to like music quite a bit. He even plays the piano, violin, and cello."
"Jeez, you'd hope a guy like that would like music, with a name like 'Piccolo…'" she mumbled mostly to herself. "Anyway, it's a start. What genres of music does he seem to like?"
In any other situation, Yamcha was sure he would be forced to stare at the blue-haired scientist with the look of a dear in headlights, at a complete loss for words. Now, however, he found that recalling the answer to such a question was as easy as though he'd literally just been given the information seconds ago.
"Mostly classical and opera, though he seems to enjoy jazz as well."
"Huh. Interesting…" she mulled aloud, leaning back against the bench and staring up into the sky as she thought to herself. "I suppose he already owns any instrument he could play, and hunting down a working Stradivari for him would not only be next to impossible, but waaay out of your price range…"
After a while more of thinking about it. she suddenly stood up from her seat on the bench, turning to look down at him with renewed vigor.
"Well, in this case, it sounds like the only thing for us to do is go window shopping!"
"What do you think I've been doing? I've been up and down this street for hours, yet I haven't seen anything even close to something he'd like…" Yamcha replied with a dejected sigh. However, rather than accept his defeatism, Bulma tugged the ex-bandit up by his arm, coaxing him out of his seat.
"Yeah, that's because you've been looking in the wrong area! C'mon, I've got an idea."
And with that, she dragged Yamcha over to the edge of the sidewalk, raising her free arm to flag down a taxi. Once one such vehicle came to a stop in front of them, Bulma swung open the door, shoving both Yamcha and her shopping bags across the seat before getting in herself. She then instructed the driver of the cab to take them to a certain address, one Yamcha wasn't entirely sure he recognized. The driver seemed to have no such problems, and he immediately took off towards another part of West City.
"So…" Bulma began once the cab started on its way to their destination, "That Ivan guy… The one from your last baseball game… That was Piccolo, wasn't it?"
Yamcha looked down at the woman by his side, his eyes wide with shock. How the hell did she figure that out?! He hadn't told anyone the truth of what had happened during that baseball game, not even Puar. Bulma seemed to notice his surprise at the situation, responding with a small smile.
"Don't worry, I only recently figured it our myself. I looked through those files you had dad look up, remember? I didn't notice it before, but… That man you had him look up, he looked exactly like the guy that beat you out there. Same exact name, too. Coincidences might happen, but not like that. Who else could live for almost a thousand years but a Namekian?"
Yamcha, despite Bulma's amiable and understanding tone, tensed up at hearing that.
"So… You know what happened to him…" he replied softly. He didn't like it. What had happened to Piccolo in the past… That felt like such a personal thing for him to know about, it felt wrong that someone else knew of it as well.
"Not everything, no. I only know what was in that file, but I'm sure there's more to it, isn't there?" she asked, her soft smile shifting to a somewhat sad one. "But what I did read… That's horrible, what happened to him… I can kinda understand why he is the way he is. I think I'd be anti-social too if all that happened to me."
Yamcha wasn't sure how to reply to that, eventually just opting to sit there in silence. Luckily, Bulma was more than happy to do all the talking.
"Honestly? I think you two are good for each other," she added, drawing an audible gasp of surprise from him. She let out a small giggle of amusement at that. "I'm serious! I never would have imagined it, but you guys seem to play well with each other's strengths and weaknesses. I know it doesn't sound like much, but that's a rare thing to find. I'm happy for you, I really am."
At first, Yamcha was at a loss for words. Bulma was… happy for them? Even though he knew everything was good between them now, it felt odd to hear something like that from someone he used to be romantically involved with. Still, he appreciated the sentiment, and eventually a pleasant smile spread across his lips.
"Yeah… Thanks."
After about a ten minute drive, the two of them arrived in a part of town that Yamcha honestly couldn't remember ever having been to. The shops seemed quite a bit less uniform than the ones in the main shopping district, though that seemed to have been a design choice rather than a lack of care. Quite to the contrary, everything around them seemed to be obsessively made to look a certain way, with each little shop having a drastically different look from its neighbors. Some were fitted with sleek, minimalistic window displays that didn't detract from the art pieces proudly displayed within. Others were somewhat garishly decorated to the point where you could hardly tell exactly what it is they sold within. No matter the store, however different from one another, one could rest assured that they held one thing in common; they all had something to do with the arts, whether it be musical instruments or painting supplies or even a few small dance studios here and there.
It dawned on Yamcha that this was the sort of place that Piccolo might actually enjoy visiting from time to time. Bulma was right; he had been looking in the wrong place before. If there was something out there that would make a suitable gift, it would certainly be here.
"So, anything catch your eye at all?" Bulma asked as they made their way past the eclectic collection of shops together.
"Kinda… That record shop looked interesting, but I somehow doubt they'd have anything he'd like. It all looked a little too new for his tastes."
"Yeah, I guess…" she mumbled out in reply, biting at her bottom lip in thought. Then, out of nowhere, she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes lighting up as though she caught sight of something up ahead.
"I've got it! Come this way!" she said, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him quickly down the street. He followed along easily enough, though he had no clue what she could have seen to prompt this newfound energy. After turning a corner and venturing into a slightly busier section of the downtown area, she finally came to a stop.
"Tada!" she announced victoriously, if a bit out of breath from their brief run, and gestured towards a large building across the street. It was a large Broadway-style theater, one Yamcha could actually recall passing a few times. It staged mostly plays and musicals, with the occasional concert renting the venue from time to time.
"Well? Think he'd like something like that?" she asked, staring up at him expectantly. Yamcha tilted his head to one side as he looked over the various posters advertising the current and upcoming shows, as though looking at them at a different angle would help him decide.
"You really think he'd enjoy going to something like that? I don't know how he'd feel about a musical…"
Bulma couldn't help but roll her eyes at that.
"Hey, you said he was into opera, right? An opera is just a glorified musical! Trust me, I don't think we're going to find anything better than this."
Just as she said that, something seemed to click in Yamcha's mind. He quickly looked over to the posters once more, zeroing in on one in particular. Slowly, his unsure expression dissolved into a confident smile. The next thing he knew, he was jogging across the street to the theater's ticket office.
For the next week, it took all of Yamcha's willpower to not accidentally spoil the gift he'd gotten for Piccolo. He'd nearly let it slip several times right to his face, but always managed to cut himself off before giving away any vital details. Piccolo was curious about what his lover was hiding, but, to his credit, he seemed to understand that it was something harmless and decided to indulge him. He'd made a point not to pry into what it might be, even pretending to have not heard him whenever he'd almost spilled the beans on the whole thing.
Finally, mercifully, the date Yamcha had been waiting for arrived. He knew Piccolo wasn't the type to enjoy any sort of fanfare, so he waited until later in the morning to casually spring it on him. He found him in the library mulling over a few of his old books. The former bandit gave the table a light knock so as to not startle him out of his concentration. Once Piccolo looked up, he held out a small envelope for him.
"Hey, so… uhh… Happy birthday!"
Piccolo looked mildly surprised at hearing that, as though he himself had forgotten all about his birthday. He accepted the envelope and, after deftly slicing it open, pulled out his gift: two tickets to a stage production of The Phantom of the Opera. A faint purple blush spread across his cheeks as he looked back up towards Yamcha, as though to confirm that no mistake had been made.
"What do you think?" Yamcha asked with a nervous grin. "The show's later tonight, so we've got a few hours to get ready. I've never been to something like this, so you'll have to tell my what clothes are appropriate to wear to this sort of thing."
"I… I'd love to go, but…" Piccolo began, much to Yamcha's dismay. Did he perhaps underestimate how much the stoic alien didn't like public spaces? Fortunately, his explanation cleared up those particular fears. "Are you sure you want to go to something like this? I'm afraid you might find it terribly boring, and I wouldn't want you to go to something you didn't enjoy yourself…"
"Honestly, I've never been to see a play or anything like that. It could be fun! Besides, you're interested in stuff like this, and I wanna do stuff with you that you like, too! Who knows? Maybe I'll like it just as much as you?"
After that, Piccolo's hesitant expression warmed into a serene smile.
"Thank you… But, you know you didn't have to get me anything. I haven't celebrated my birthday in centuries, and I certainly wouldn't have noticed if it passed by like any other day this year."
"Well, yeah, but… What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't remind you of important dates like your own birthday? You already know I'd do anything you ask me to, so I gotta go above and beyond every now and then, y'know?"
Piccolo let out a light chuckle at that, standing up from his seat at the library table to pull the other man into a warm embrace. Yamcha wrapped his arms around the giant's neck as their foreheads came close enough to touch. Piccolo's lips brushed lightly against his own and, just before they kissed properly, he whispered out something in that deep, sultry voice of his.
"Love me… That's all I ask of you."
