Plus One

by Team Dragon Star

Tired of being pursued by the gold-digging, glory-seeking, Satan obsessed freaks of the world, Videl will resort to the only method open to a celebrity like her to find Mr. Right.

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Brought to you by Boboleta, Gue22, and ShadowMajin.

...

Reality didn't catch up to him for the longest time, suspending the truth in such a way that was making the air around his body feel vacant and missing. Gohan wanted nothing more than to rush after her, hold her tightly against him and smother her with his affection, but what would that accomplish? More distance. More anger.

If only time could go back… If only he wasn't so desperate for her to see things for what they were, and not for what was fabricated in their stead. Lies could so easily become facts if there's nothing to shed them light, so what reason did she have to question anything, let alone believe his words?

He forced her and she'd broke. How did one glue trust together? Or one's heart, because he might be needing it later.

Looking around at the naked walls and bare floorboards, he felt just as empty, wondering how the sight of her, exquisitely flowing towards him in that flimsy golden package forever ago, had turned into stomps of fury running the other way.

Why did he have to go show her his stupid Ki? Stupid, stupid, stupid. For a second he felt like crying, but luckily the urge left right after over the numbness of the realization: His stupid Ki was a part of himself. Of his past, of his whole life. How could he ever tell her about all the rest if this - the simplest of things - had already created such a rift between them?

Mindlessly, he stepped back, thumping himself against the cold wall and letting gravity bring him down to the floor. He looked up into the skylight and the stars that were witnessing his dismay. One of those must've been New Namek, but Videl would never learn about it.

He sighed and closed his eyes, surrounded by the darkness.

...

Urgh!

How could someone be so stubborn and aggravating? He was the phony one, he was the liar! Who made him king and ruler of the truth, anyway? And the nerve of him to actually think some pitiful balls of light would be all big and scary in her eyes. What was she, four? Videl stomped through the cobblestone path that led directly to the mansion's side entrance, cringing a tighter frown when her wounded foot landed a little too harshly on the rocks.

Urgh! The nerve!

With one final step she was inside, slamming the door shut behind her with as much force and the loudest grunt she could muster. She spun around right after and leant back against it, crossing her arms over her chest in a strained pout. There was a fire crackling inside her, but it wilted beneath the silence that filled the small vestibule - both deafening and loud - melting the tightness of her expression into a ball of heat at her throat. Swallowing it dry didn't help; the hurt was turning out to be just too real and too deep. Who would have guessed that being so different from all the other guys would turn out to be a bad thing…?

Gohan was so sweet and perfect. Why did he have to hate Daddy so much?

"Ms. Videl?"

The startle jolted right through her spine, making her jump up straight and hide away from the familiar voice. "Hey, Charlie," she was quick to answer while wiping the dampness at her eyes. Surely it wouldn't go by unnoticed, but she couldn't be bothered right now. Charlie had always been good at keeping to himself, anyway - as etiquette demanded of becoming an upper-class butler - ever since she was a little girl.

With the characteristic dismissiveness, he continued to ask, "Will you be joining Master Satan for supper?"

"Yes, I will," she said in a coarse whisper.

"Very well, then. I shall inform the chef accordingly." He began to walk away, escorting her to the nearby dining room without the proper request for her to follow, such formalities were thankfully reserved for all others but herself. That and addressing her on a first name basis, although try as she might he couldn't lose the damn "Ms".

"Sweetpea!" her father practically yelled over the screeching of the dining room chair as it flew behind him. "What are you doin' here? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Daddy," Videl assured. "I just thought we haven't had dinner together in a while, so…"

Hercule was on her in a flash, patting her down in that annoying way that he did whenever he wanted to make sure her bones were still intact. It was from out of love, of course, and tonight more than any other night, she truly felt it in her heart.

"Charles," he called, guiding her to take the seat next to him and pulling the chair out. "Go tell the cook to make some Mac n' cheese with those lil' pickles on the side. And make'em step on it!"

"Right away, Sire," Charlie said and left right after. Mac n' cheese with pickles; her favourite comfort food. Gohan could say all he wanted but her father wasn't a phony; he was the coolest, sweetest man in the world. He was honest and funny, and he had a heart of gold. Why couldn't he just see it, too?

"Honey, you sure you're all right?" Hercule asked again, sitting down, his words increasingly low and wary. And he was frowning too… she just hated when he frowned. "Your eyes are all red and shiny."

"I just hurt my foot a little bit, stepping out of the car. It's no big deal," Videl fabricated without hesitation. "How was your day?"

The big man bloomed in full, huge grin and creased expression lines all over his forehead. "Oh, it was the best! First of all, Mike calls me asking about this Gold bridge thing, ranting about how some news lady wanted an interview and why he hasn't been told I was even involved in the first place!" He chuckled loudly. "That always cracks me up cuz he starts to hiccup non-stop whenever he gets all nervous like that. And then…"

Videl lost him after that, staring mindlessly his way, and throwing a nod and a smile in there every once in a while. Even if she had never been the one to pull the trigger before, she knew very well how things went about in these cases: Hercule's name would be thrown around, he'd make some sort of appearance that his sleazy manager Mike would deem fitting, and the big guy would play along with what sometimes struck her as genius improv capabilities. Daddy would go stressed-crazy if he followed up on every single one of these occasions with the police. Hopefully, he'd never learn who put his name up this time around, but all and all she didn't quite care, miles away in her mind, alternating thoughts between Gohan and anything else but him whenever she felt her eyes starting to well up. Hercule kept speaking while carving up his humongous steak, and eventually her Mac had arrived, but the scent turned out to be making her sick, so she stuck to playing around with the thing between one or two nibbles.

How in the world was she going to tell Gohan of her father? There was no way she could do it now, after that display of hostility. She should've known it was just too good to be true. A guy like him was nothing less of a dream - kind, funny… hot - surely there must've been someone more suited, someone better.

Oh, wonderful, now she was running on pity…

No! It was his fault! Her father was a wonderful man, and it was his damn loss if he wanted nothing to do with the guy. How dare he make her feel like crap over his "interpretation of the evidence"?

Okay, so maybe Daddy came out of it surprisingly unscathed, but he was the best in the whole world - the Champ! - so maybe Cell didn't even have the chance to lay a finger on him.

He did throw Daddy off to the side like it was nothing…

But that was because he'd lost his balance, and he was having those stomach pains he normally got. It wasn't his fault! Those other fighters held the monster off for a bit, but they did nothing more than their jobs! The world was at stake, every single living being on Earth. If Daddy needed some time, it should be an honour to help him out, and he would've been back on his feet in no time, for sure.

But the transmission...

"Daddy?" she asked on auto-pilot over whatever he was saying. "Can you tell me the story again?"

Hercule gave it a second of wondering, but there was only one story she'd ever asked him to tell when she was a little girl. Honestly, there was only one story - period. He promptly produced one of his thunderous laughs. "I've told you that story a million times already."

"I know, but-"

"I got there half an hour before the deadline," her father began, needing no further arguments when he stepped into the zone she'd ended up referring to as "Cell mode". At least in her head, and occasionally to Erasa.

"All it took was one glance at your old man and the thing just froze in place, right there in the middle of his pathetic 'arena', or whatever he called it." He took his glass of red wine and chugged it whole. Charlie filled it up again. "I betcha he was pissing his pants too!"

"What about the other people there? The other fighters."

His tone changed - just a smidgen lower, deeper. No eye contact. Observation and the interpretation of physical evidence. "Just a handful of avid fans," he said dismissively, almost solemnly, before returning right back up into bragging level. "Gotta hand it to them, though, they landed some sweet front row seats to the gun show! I should've charged for tickets!" Another vibrant laugh.

A handful of avid fans… A million times already and always the same five words. To the letter. A handful of avid fans…

"What about the lights they made?" she asked. "With their hands." They were flying too, she remembered. They appeared right out of the sky - one, and then another, and then the big group of them. It was right at the beginning, just a few minutes after her father had gotten there.

"Light shows, of course!" he almost squealed, but what did that even mean, "light shows"? Light didn't tear mountains in half, and light didn't produce craters the size of volcanoes like it was nothing. Although… light also didn't come all the way from the Sun to blind one's enemies at their beckoning…

"You're really tired, aren't you, Sweetpea?" Hercule spoke really quickly. "Y'sound like it. You should get some rest. I'll have the maid prepare you a warm bath and-"

"I'm not tired, Dad."

"Nonsense," he injected with a wave of his hand. "Charles, go tell the maid, and while you're at it, grab some extra pillows for her to put her leg on. It's much more comfortable to sleep that way." Hercule got up and threw his cloth napkin onto the table, walking over to Videl and kissing her on the head. "Nighty night, Sweetpea," he murmured, and then left.

…

"That was so awesome, Dad! I knew we would win. I just knew it!"

Goku chuckled, stepping further inside their provisional home. It would always warm his heart whenever he managed to get Goten excited like this. It was way easier when the boy was little - bugs and dirt had always done the trick - but nowadays things got a little trickier. Chi-Chi would say it was his hormones starting to act up, but he disagreed; the boy was simply growing up. Everybody grows up. "Well, I don't think we actually won, but-"

"No way! We totally won!" Goten jumped around him and stopped them both on their tracks. "Trunks was panting when we broke it off, and I wasn't so I won! And Vegeta didn't really show it but he was tired too, so you also won. We're the best!" The boy put up his hand, and Goku took his part on the high-five, letting his proud grin keep to himself how his whole body was crying out with numbness, just as much as Vegeta's would've been. It'd been a while since they went all out like this.

"Goten, go wash up, okay? I'm almost done here," Chi-Chi called from over her shoulder, returning right after to the stovetop and the goop she had been stirring. Mmm, tomato sauce… Pasta for dinner!

"'Kay, Mom!" Goku snickered at his enthusiasm as the boy bolted away towards the room area, but what really topped things off was Chi-Chi giggling in that cute way that she did - with the adorable piggy snort at the end. It made him giggle too, right after.

As mandatory after training, he took off his muddy boots by the door before stepping over, slowing his pace when the gentle sway of his wife's hips caught his eye, as it accompanied the wooden spoon she was conducting. His hands wanted to take part on the dance, but as he got behind her, other urges took precedence. "Wow, Chi, that smells amazing!" She always got the thing to be so thick and juicy, and sweet instead of acid like the one Bulma's mom would make for her renowned meatballs. He ventured a finger into it but it didn't go very far.

Splat!

"Don't even think about it, Mister!" Chi-Chi scolded. He would see that wooden spoon come flying against his wrist every single time, but he'd never flinch aside since he did it on purpose anyway. That fire in her eyes was always worth the slap. "Look at you," she continued, eyeing him quickly from behind her shoulder. "You're so dirty!"

Goku smirked, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her back into him, breathing his words onto her ear in soft but fully charged whispers. "Am I?"

"Y-Yes," his wife said after a quiet gasp. She had always been quick to regain herself, but that jump in her Ki was always so delicious. Very, very much so. Her attempts to hide it, however, were as fruitless as that wiggle to get away from him.

Ring, ring! Ring, ring!

"Goku, the phone!" Chi-Chi urged with another wiggle that he didn't fight this time, letting her flee away to answer the thing, though he couldn't resist a playful slap at her amazing ass - his favourite bit of her, if he had to pick just one. Though her hair… and her breasts… Nah, he couldn't choose.

She yelped girlishly at the touch before picking up the receiver with a blushed grin and a giggled, "Hello?" It faded right the next second, however, when the person on the other side brought on the worry lines. "Gohan?" she asked, and the name took his smile right along.

Instantly, as per instinct, Goku found himself tracking his son's Ki - as he would every once in a while, or whenever he knew the boy was due for a rough day, like a test back at college. Even if his son was now a grown man, he never managed to leave him be completely, so his energy signature became easily traceable over the years.

It felt strange this time… for some reason.

"Hum…" Chi-Chi continued to say, looking back to Goku. "Yes, he's here. Is everything okay, Honey?" She paused, listening. "Okay, I will. See you soon." Click. "You have to go pick him up."

"Did something happen?"

"He said he's fine but…" A sigh. "I just hope everything's okay with that girl… what's her name."

Goku reached over to her, massaging her shoulders and kissing her forehead. "I'm sure everything's fine. I'll be back in a jiffy."

Two fingers on the forehead and a second later, he felt the distinct tingling all across his body just before the jump that brought him to a whole new location. Outside, darkened and quiet, on the back of a house.

"Dad! That was fast," Gohan said, sitting on the tiny porch of what he now assumed to be his son's new place. It was neat but a little too crowded for his taste: a neighbour on each side and not enough room for a proper spar.

"Yep! Your Ki was a bit funny feeling so I picked up on it right away," Goku responded, spirits sky high as was expected of him, though curiosity was eating up his insides. He sat down next to his son. "Is everything okay?"

That small glint of energy from before was quick to vanish from his son's expression, their eyes unlocking when Gohan's prefered the dirt by his feet. "I made Videl angry," the younger confessed. Videl! That's her name. Hopefully he'll remember it long enough to tell Chi-Chi. "And then I scared her off. I'm such an idiot."

Scared her off? That doesn't seem right. Not from his son, no way. "How did ya scare her?"

"I showed her this." He rolled a teeny-tiny ball of Ki, bouncing it up and down like a tired ping pong.

A ball of Ki? Nah, that couldn't be it. How could that ever scare anyone? He must've meant, "Ya blew something up?"

"No, Dad, I just… showed it to her, gently, just like this. And she… fled."

Just like that? How strange… Maybe there was something else behind it, or maybe Gohan was making a big deal out of nothing, since it had happened multiple times in the past. "Are you sure you didn't blow something up? 'Cause that doesn't look all that scary to me."

"Dad… I think I'd remember if I blew something up."

True. It wasn't one of those things a person could simply wipe from their memory, he guessed. But surely the girl couldn't have been that scared. She was probably just having a bad day or something, though he knew how that train of thought wouldn't be enough to soothe Gohan's weird Ki… So weird that it was actually making him feel uncomfortable; it was so unlike his son's but unmistakably his at the same time. He didn't like it one bit.

Maybe nothing he could say would bring his "real" son back to himself, right now, but at the end of the day, Goku's never ending energy was world-renowned at making people around him feel good about themselves, so he pushed the feeling aside and patted his son on the back. "Well, take it from me, Son, the making up is the best part," Goku said, flashing him one of his sly grins. On more than one occasion had he been guilty of purposefully lighting his wife's fuse just so he could reap the delicious fruits of her anger later that night. Dear God… make up sex was the best!

"If we make up," Gohan muttered.

"Don't be silly, of course you'll make up," Goku dismissed instantaneously. Why wouldn't they make up? He had done much worse things than displaying energy balls - much worse - and Chi-Chi had always forgave him. Always. Heck, Gohan wouldn't even have had the opportunity to be born if his wife wasn't able to make up and move on - on those first few months of marriage, until he got the hang of what exactly constituted "being married". Even more so, Goku was mostly certain that Gohan was conceived in a particularly raunchy make up session that lasted til dawn. He controlled the fire that was sliding down his belly at the memories, and toned things down, seeing as his words only managed a slight shake of the head from his son, side to side. Was he ever this sullen before? He must really like that Videl girl. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"I don't want to get into it right now," Gohan responded, slowly rising from his seat. "Let's just get out of here."

"Alright," his father said, also getting up while regarding him keenly. This dejection was just too much for him take on his son's expression, the morbid mood just too foreign and out of place. Goku couldn't avoid a concerned frown that lasted only a couple of seconds, until he reminded himself to keep smiling. If anything could help a fallen spirit was a friendly grin, for sure. "Don't worry, Son," he added, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Mom's making pasta with that yummy tomato sauce! Things will look brighter with a full stomach, you'll see." His mantra if he ever had one.

Gohan smiled back and snickered. "I bet." He paused, somewhat hesitant. "Actually… I could really use one of your hugs right now."

No need to say it twice. In the very next moment, Goku was bringing his son into his embrace - a little too eagerly, maybe, making the boy chuckle at the roughness, but that was a win in his book. They stood like that for a while, Goku gently massaging the back of Gohan's neck like he always did, and eyeing the darkness around them while wondering how many years had passed since they'd last hugged like this. Too many, but alas his boy wasn't a boy anymore. It felt really nice to see that Gohan still needed his hugs though, all grown up and independent as he might be. His grin grew wider on its own accord. "Let's go home, Buddy," Goku half-whispered after a while.

Gohan nodded, leaning away, staring at his father in what Goku translated to be a silent "thank you". He nodded back. Two fingers on the forehead and they were off.

…

"You're an idiot," he told her bluntly. It was the only conclusion he could come to after listening to her story. He tried not to laugh when she tried to hide an appalled gasp with one of her trademark menacing frowns. How cute of her to think he wouldn't notice it.

"Why did I even come to you for advice?" Videl snapped at him. He didn't mind, he'd known her a long time, her and her quick temper.

Sharpener merely shrugged, blond hair swaying as he turned back to his painting. "Who knows, Babe? I gave up trying to figure you out a long time ago."

He would maintain his nonchalant attitude till the very end. He wouldn't let her rattle him, not this time. She'd just shown up at his place - in her pajamas; after months of disappearing from his life, months of writing him off like she was so prone to doing to people. Meh…he figured she must have been pretty desperate to climb out of bed in the middle of the night, throw away her pride and come knocking on his lowly door. Yeah, pretty desperate alright. Still, he wasn't one to hold a grudge, so he'd do his best to help. She may have shunned him, but he still loved her as a dear friend.

"I'm not asking you to figure me out, I'm asking for advice!"

His hand stopped mid-stroke as he turned away from his painting to face her. "No, you're not. You're asking for vindication so you can bail on your guy," he accused.

Videl flinched, but that didn't deter him. It was the truth and she knew it. "From what I understand, you promised to go to this fundraiser with him knowing very well that your secret was likely to be exposed that night." He held her gaze meaningfully. "Cancelling at the last minute is a dick move. Even I realize that."

Her aura flashed in anger. "Screw you, Sharpener. You're one to talk."

"Oh right, I forgot. I'm the King of dick moves according to you," he said, failing to mask the bitterness from his voice. He was trying here, trying not to let the old wounds re-open, but she wasn't making it easy. "Since I'm such an expert, I should know what I'm talking about."

"Are you still on about that? How many times do I have to say I'm sorry before you'll let it go, Sharpener, jeesh!"

This girl! She had some nerve. "Let it go? Let it go?" he snapped, bringing up the subject he had sworn to stay away from for the sake of a peaceful visit. "How can I let it go when you still don't trust me?" He couldn't help raising his voice. "You've never looked at me the same since that day. Damn it, Videl, the three of us were as close as close can be but it had to take some kind of crisis like this to get you to knock on my door, and that's only because Erasa's fucked off out of town to her cousin's wedding and thus unavailable!" he huffed, having to take a deep breath to replenish his air supply.

She didn't speak, she merely turned away. Typical.

In three steps he closed the distance between them. "I'll say it again, just so we're clear." He towered over her. "Yes, I sometimes hung out with those guys. Yes, I knew about their website and yes, I watched the podcasts on occasion, but no, I didn't know that you were supposed to be the so-called 'celebrity special' that day. Like hell I'd just sit on my ass while some loser tried to get in your pants, broadcasting the whole ordeal to the world."

"If you knew what kind of guy he was, if you knew about the website and all the girls they'd schemed, then why in God's name did you introduce him to me?" she yelled, blue eyes burning with a fury that proved that she was still blaming him for the whole thing.

"Oh come on, Videl!" He threw up his arms, angry and exasperated. "Because he begged me to, that's all. It never occurred to me that you'd actually fall for him, jeez! Why did you have to go off and date him in secret, huh? I had no way of knowing there was something going on between you guys." He sighed, pushing his hair away from his face. "Man, I still can't believe you fell for his act."

"I let my guard down because I thought he was your friend! I let myself relax because I thought he liked me for me, but all he wanted was the glory of nailing Videl Satan on camera. I was such an idiot. Thank God Erasa showed up to warn me, otherwise…" She shuddered, turning away from him.

Ah crap, rehashing the details wasn't getting them anywhere. There was nothing more he could say; it was either she chose to believe him or not. He was so done trying to exalt himself. "When all else fails, trust in Erasa's extensive gossip network," he forced himself to laugh. "That girl sure is something."

"She is," Videl agreed. "She really saved me that day."

Sharpener nodded, he would forever be grateful to Erasa as well. He could still recall the horror and disgust he'd felt that day when he'd accidentally discovered the identity of that week's target. By the time he'd busted into the rigged dorm-room, Erasa had already saved the day. A furious Videl was standing over the culprit, having beaten his ribs in. If he hadn't been planning on doing the same or worse, he may have found the charity to feel sorry for him.

But the worst aspect of that whole sordid affair was he'd lost one of his best-friends that day. Blue eyes that had always been warm and trusting had glared at him with a frigid frost that had sent chills down his spine, so much that he hadn't even been able to enjoy the rare sight of catching her with her bra in plain view.

"Uh jeez," he shook his head at the memory, golden locks swaying to the movement. "I still can't believe you came that close to letting that guy into your pants."

"Shut up, Sharpener," she screeched, picking up the first thing in her path. "It's none of your business!" She chucked it at him.

He laughed, dodging expertly on instinct. The glue stick swooshed passed him, bouncing harmlessly on his canvas. "Watch it, Satan, that's my master-piece you just attacked."

"That ugly thing?" Videl mocked. "What's it supposed to be anyway?"

"So says the uncultured tom-boy. This beaut here is a portrait of my girlfriend's beloved puppy. It's 'spoil-your-chic-day' tomorrow, so I wanna have it finished by then."

"It's her birthday?" she quirked.

"No dummy, it's Valentine's day."

"Oh," she frowned, as if he'd said it's the "end-of-world day".

"That's why you can't afford to bail on your guy tomorrow. Not only is it an important work function, but I'm sure being a guy, he must have something planned. You have to go. You cannot stand him up."

Her shoulders slumped, a sight so rare he'd never expected to see it ever again. And it worried him. This was not the girl that he knew.

"I do want to go," she said in a foreign, mousy voice. "Of course I do. But I can't risk it."

He really felt like shaking her now, she could be such an idiot! "See, you're being an idiot again. You can't keep your identity a secret forever. Man-up and face the consequences already!"

"I don't want to man-up! Besides, I'm a girl, Stupid!" she snapped, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

"Oh, so now you want to embrace being a girl," he threw in carelessly, until he saw the expression on her face. He sighed. He didn't want to be harsh with her, but Videl could be so infuriating. She was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. So what if the guy didn't like her father? He was probably just jealous of the Champ's riches and awesomeness - what a petty jerk.

"You've always, always had trust issues," Sharpener said a little more gently. "I know you've had it rough but not everyone out there is in it to use you." He forced a pause, considering whether or not to go there and deciding to risk it at the end. "Or abandon you, like your mom."

Videl stiffened. "So now you're a shrink too?" she said icily, after a moment.

Typical. For all her claims to not care about her mother's choice to leave her family for the order of Monochus, she sure was testy whenever it was brought up. She excelled at erecting walls around her emotions, that's for sure.

"I'm leaving," she continued. "Coming here was a waste of my time."

Sharpener watched as she struggled to her feet, the brace on her leg making the task less graceful than it otherwise would have been. He wouldn't dare offer any help though - broken leg or not, the girl's pride was just plain unbearable at times.

"Go on then, run! Get the hell out of my house." He called her bluff, knowing very well that with Videl it was no bluff at all. "That might give me time to figure out when it was that the fearless girl I knew turned into such a coward," he added, goading her deliberately, expecting her typical arrogant snort.

"When she realized just how much she had to lose!" She astonished him with the raw emotion in her voice, lashing out at him like a thorned whip. "Judge me all you want, but I don't want to lose him, Sharpener. Is that such a terrible thing?"

Tremors, quivers… all things that should never be associated with her voice, he realized with alarm. Who the hell was this guy who'd managed to rile Videl up so much that she was terrified of such an insignificant detail? It made him want to punch the bastard.

"Look, Babe," he spoke more softly. "He's dating you, not your father alright? If he turns his back on you because of who you are, then he's no better than the douchebags who've pursued you because of the very same. Better find out now before you get in too deep, don't you think?"

"I'm already neck deep," her voice completely broke, making his heart squeeze. "I'm already…" She hiccupped, and Sharpener went into full panic mode when he witnessed tears - real tears falling down Videl Satan's face.

This isn't happening.

"Come on, Babe, don't be like that." He was at her side in an instant. "I'll let you beat me to a pulp if you want, just please don't cry." He swiped at the tears with his calloused thumbs.

"I'm not crying. I don't cry."

"I know, I know you don't." He wrapped paint stained arms around her back and held her.

Ah crap... That asshole had better be worth it.

…

"See, don't you feel better after one of your mom's meals?" his father spoke, such a peacefulness in his tone that almost made it feel like he was saying it to himself. A full happy tummy would do that to a Saiyan. He rubbed his in satisfaction while laying back onto the couch.

Gohan had to agree; he did feel better now that he'd had an adequate amount of his mother's delicious spaghetti bolognaise. She kept serving him more and more portions, always watchful for when his plate was nearing empty so that she could fill it up to the brim again. And again. And again. Perhaps it was true for every family, but his more than any other would have a direct link between stomach and heart, he reckoned; both of his were serene, right now. His mother knew him better than he'd give her credit for; but then again, so did his dad, apparently. He smiled, pulling out his phone. It was time to put an end to this madness. "You're right Dad, I feel much better. I'm gonna call Videl and apologise again."

Even though the whole thing still pained him, and even though he still had no idea how to go about it, he wanted nothing more than to patch things up as soon as possible. Tomorrow was the day of the ball, not to mention Valentine's Day - the first one he'd actually be qualified to celebrate - so he really, really, wanted to start off on the right foot. Please don't be mad...

She picked up on the first ring.

" Hey," she answered with a clogged voice. "I was um... just about to call you," she added before he could sneak in a word. "I'm coming over."

Eh? "C-Coming over? To the house?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Is... that okay?"

"S-Sure," he squeaked, his trusty hand flying up to the back of his neck while something else crumpled his gut to shreds. "How far are you?" He looked at his father nervously. Why did the same things keep happening to him? Why was he destined to never be where she expected him to be?

"Not long, maybe twenty minutes. Am driving so gotta go. See you soon." And the beep in his ear was the end of that.

Thank God. He sighed in relief. Twenty minutes was more than enough time to get back to Blue City.

"Gotta go, Dad, Videl is coming over." He stuffed his phone deep into his pockets. He didn't want it slipping out and falling while he was in mid-air.

"She's coming here?"

"No, back to my new place. She'll be there in twenty so I gotta hurry!" He patted himself to make sure he had everything he needed but froze the very next second, thinking. Maybe he should bring some food with him; at least that way he'd have something to offer his girlfriend in his own house. But then he sighed and slouched: what was the point of bringing food when there wasn't glass or plate at his place? He'd already made her sit on the floor, was he going to feed her off of it too? Oh man, he raked a hand through his hair. Never mind the food, he didnt even have a chair for her to sit on. What should he do?

"What's wrong, Son?" his dad asked.

"It's just the worst place for a make up of any kind," he whined. "I don't even have a damn chair to offer her. And with her injured leg, no way should she be sitting on the hard floor."

"Easy. Bring one of the capsules and take some of the new stuff your mom has been buying for your new room." Goku suggested. "She's bought a futon and some other stuff. No chairs though."

Gohan's eyes widened at the idea. Wonderful! "Awesome, Dad! Thanks!" He bear-hugged the man really tightly, unconsciously chuckling right alongside him before dashing around the house to do just that. It took him no more than two minutes to grab whatever could be encapsulated. "Bye, guys! See ya tomorrow!", he shouted from the sky as he raced to Blue City at top speed, hurtling through the air like as sonic boom.

…

He stood in the parking-lot with his hands in his pockets, staring at the distant twinkling of street lights and hover cars alike. A silhouette in the night, he was a maelstrom of emotions as he focused on tracking her Ki. He followed it steadily as it made its uninterrupted approach towards his new house. Throat bobbing, head plagued by a million and one samples of inadequate apologies, his shoulders sagged in relief when he finally spied the familiar car alighting his driveway. She'd made it, and with time to spare. Setting up the meagre items he'd brought along had been a cinch.

Poles of ultra-bright blues and whites blared at his eyes, momentarily blinding him as the headlights fell on his spot. Turning away, Gohan covered his face with his arm, stepping out of the way to make room for her to land. Wheels popped out and began to unfold, virgin blades of grass vibrating beneath them as the car completed its descent onto the ground. A second later, the headlights retracted as she killed the engine, leaving him struck by a momentary abyss of no color and no light, and just a small hope for absolution when his eyes readjusted.

He refocused to discover the driver's door in the midst of a painfully slow mechanical glide of opening, shooting a mad turbulence of impatience down his spine. Heart flapping wings in his throat, he wanted to rush the door and sweep her into his arms. He wanted to crush her against his body so there may never be a breath of space to separate them again. He wanted...

Every muscle, intercostal, tendon or sinew was fraught with tension as he stood on the same spot, watching with a clenched stomach as her car-seat first swivelled to the right, then all the way out the opening in the door. It then lowered to the ground with a smooth mechanical croon, allowing her to disembark and stand without any hassle at all.

She looked so tiny standing there, barely illuminated by the scant glow of the fading indoor lights from her car. Her hair fell carelessly around her face, brushing down to her shoulders and she'd obviously been in bed or close if those red drawstring pajama bottoms had anything to say on the matter. The wide elastic waist sat nice and snug so low below her navel that his eyes lingered there longer than intended. A grey short-sleeved vest that looked at least a size too small hugged what little it covered of her upper body, its inadequacy leaving a belt of exposed skin for his perusal. Not that he dared linger on such thoughts when he didnt even know where they stood.

With swift precision, the car-door slid shut, extinguishing the low glow of light from inside the vehicle.

It was such a short stretch, this dark distance between them, but under the weight of his uncertainty, it felt truly indomitable.

Idiot! Don't just stand around chewing on your tongue! Apologise! He took a miniscule step towards her, needing to express how sorry he was with incomparable urgency. But, a thousand balls of cotton wool came out of nowhere, cramming down his throat instead.

"I was upset." She took the reigns, her words wisping out as little more than broken breaths, "I'm sorry I just... up and ran off like that," she added quietly, arms wrapping protectively around themselves.

He sucked in a breath as all the villains of the universe fused and punched him in the stomach. She was... she was... God! She shouldn't be the one apologizing in the dark for his careless words and scaring tactics.

"No," he closed the distance between them, gently grabbing at the band of protection that was her arms. "I'm sorry." The remorse had him hauling her against him, hugging her tightly. "I was too rash," he said hoarsely, pulling back slightly to cup her face. "And I... I scared you."

"Surprised me," she added quickly as if to correct him. Exonerating him from what he'd feared he'd done. "You didn't scare me," she reinforced as if sensing his lingering weariness. "You just caught me off guard."

He searched her face, brushing the hair from eyes so he could read for himself if what she said was true. He hated that he'd scared her. "Really?"

"Really," she absolved him completely, even going as far as throwing him a small boon in the form of a warm smile.

"Thank goodness," he pulled her back into his arms, burying his head in her hair. "We're okay?"

"We're okay." The muffled words were warm and damp on his shirt, kissing right at his heart. He closed his eyes, pulling her closer, so... so... grateful she was here in his arms and not angry with him. In fact, he was grateful for a lot of things that had transpired since meeting her. There was no question that flying to Orange Square that night had changed his life. Did he dare tell her? Did he dare confess how inextricably she was wound into and around his heart?

"I'm so glad you came back," he spoke into her hair. "I should never have confronted you with everything so abruptly," he told her, leaning back a smidgen just so his eyes would sign off on the words as well. "I know how much you respect Mr. Satan. I won't ever bring him up. Ever. I promise."

"You don't have to go that far," her lips twitched into yet another smile that blasted away at the remainder of his tension. "I'm not some dictator who doesn't allow her subjects any freedom of speech you know."

Their chuckles were heaven.

"We'll just have to learn to disagree with each other amicably from now on. Deal?" she offered.

"Or," he insinuated, playfully stretching the word. "You could just allow this lowly subject to exercise his freedom to never disagree with you again, your Dictatoress."

"That is so not a word," she laughed. "In any case, lowly one, we should get going."

"Where are we going?"

"To check you back into your hotel."

"Uh..."

"You might be happy to sleep on that barren floor in there," she scolded while pointing past his ear, her finger spearing at his house, "but I for one, would really prefer a mattress of some kind."

She... wanted to spend the night. She - his girlfriend - had driven all this way just to apologize and spend the night with him. Thank goodness, they were actually gonna be okay. The relief was so immense it felt like a second breath at life itself. Everything in him relaxed and was re-energized at the same time, thanking every and all deities in existence for the blessing of having her body heat lull him to sleep just one more time. And no matter the issue, regardless of whichever hurdle they'd have to overcome, he vowed that it wouldn't be his last. There would never be a last.

"I'm tired of driving back and forth all the way to Satan City," she added over his musings, "so it'll have to do for tonight. Go grab your stuff so we can go, okay?"

He frowned, calculating the hours she must have spent driving up and down between the two cities. And all on his account. God, he really wasn't much of a gentleman, or a boyfriend for that matter. He should have been the one coming and going, not her. Especially not with her leg the way it was. "No, you're right."

With firm determination, he took the car keys from her hand and clicked the lock button on the remote, right before carefully but quickly scooping her up onto his arms. She gasped a little and asked, "W-What are you-?"

"It's late," he explained. "No more driving around. I'm taking you inside."

"Hum… Perhaps I didn't make myself clear about sleeping on the floor."

"You made yourself adequately clear, Ms. Grumpy," Gohan teased with a smirk forged from the anticipation. She was in for a surprise, that's for sure. "Don't worry, I did a little decorating while you were away."

"You did what?"

He chuckled, mostly at the cute wrinkling around her perfect little nose. "Let me show you."

…

The beat-up van cruised down the street, keeping with the speed limit so as to not draw any attention. Then again, most people wouldn't give the time of day to a vehicle that looked like it belonged in a junkyard other than someone's driveway. It was all part of the cover.

The driver checked his mirrors to make sure he wasn't being tailed. So far so good. Returning his eyes to the road in front of him, he could see a large, circular building far ahead of him. That was the city's convention center, and his destination for the job. His contact had been very adamant that this went without a hitch, unlike his partner's botched job in the mountains.

Raising a hand, he pulled at the collar of his full-body work uniform. The place he had purchased it from didn't have his size, and the only one that fit him had the tightest damn collar he had ever worn! Part of him wanted to take a knife and cut it somewhere to relieve the pressure, but that wouldn't do for such an upscale place as the convention center. They were sticklers for presentation and a torn up work uniform would not fly with them.

Traffic was light, so it wasn't long before the driver reached the building. Pulling into the parking lot, he headed for the back of the building, where the employees parked their cars and trucks. Once there, he found a spot and pulled in, setting the van in park and turning off the engine.

With a practiced motion, he climbed out of the van and walked to the back of it, opening the rear doors. Lying on its side was a maintenance cart, one that the driver hauled out and set on the ground on its wheels. There were a few more things scattered about the back of the van and the driver went to work collecting them and placing them on the car. A bright yellow bag, a broom, mop, a mop bucket with the wringer attachment, and various cleaning supplies found their way onto the car. Once he had everything, the driver slammed the van doors shut and began pushing the cart towards the convention center.

The wheels made a loud noise as they bounced and rattled on the uneven parking lot pavement. A deaf man could have heard the commotion a mile away. It was quite grating on the driver's ears, but he bore it like he had every time before that.

Eventually, he reached the back of the convention center, specifically the employee entrance. Stopping the cart, he walked up to the door and swung it open, grabbing the front of the cart and pulling it in. Once it was through the doorway, the driver walked in himself and resumed pushing.

Barely feet away was a security checkpoint, metal detector and guards galore. Confidently, the man made his way to the metal detector and pushed the cart through, the detector alarm blaring instantly.

One of the guards glanced to him before greeting "Heya, Roach, back again already?"

Roach merely grinned back, a wry one with just an underlying touch of mischievousness. Not that he needed reassurance of any kind, but it helped to know was nothing more than a familiar face with a weird nickname. "Same time, same place."

The guard nodded back in acceptance, a bigger smile on his face than the driver's. "This will only take a second," he said as he began rifling through all the stuff on the cart. For the most part, he'd push a bottle or a broom handle to a side but never picked anything off.

That all changed when the guard seemed to have spotted a black case beneath the yellow garbage bag. Sliding it out, he held the case and unzipped it, giving a low whistle at what he saw. "What is this thing? It looks like a gun."

Roach glanced at the case and the gun-shaped object in it. There was also a tube lying next to it but that wasn't noticed at all. "It's a high-pressure water gun."

The guard gave him a queer look. "And what do you want to use this for?"

"It's for the outside of the building, you know, to wash off all the grime. It's very expensive though, so I wanted to bring it inside with me instead of leaving it in the van."

The guard nodded again before closing the case and zipping it back up. "I hear ya." Handing the case back to Roach, the guard then gestured down the hall, saying a dismissive, "You can go."

He nodded one final time, silently in acceptance, as he placed the case back under the yellow bag. He went on his way, further inside, an ordinary man doing an ordinary job.

Invisible.

…

"Well it's very comfortable," she smiled, demonstrating just how comfortable it was by childishly spreading her arms across it, moving them up and down in a butterfly movement.

"What are you doing?" he chuckled.

"Breaststroke."

Gohan couldn't help himself then. His eyes ditched her beautiful grin and immediately darted to her breasts as they moved slightly with each ministration of her arms. "Wrong direction," he said sheepishly, trying with all his might to focus on a safer place.

"I suppose," Videl said through a laugh, then stopped moving her arms all together. "Why are you just standing over there?" Blue eyes watched him with something he couldn't quite read. "Did I steal your side of the bed or something?"

Okay, so maybe he could read them a little. They were definitely teasing him. But... this was all so new to him. He had his girlfriend in his bed - check. Now what?

"Come," she patted an empty spot on the futon. "It's after midnight now, so I demand my Valentine's kiss."

His eyes widened at the realization, it was after midnight which meant it was Valentine's day now. After all that fuss he'd gone to for her present, he suddenly felt uncertain. Maybe he should have gone with jewellry. But to be honest, she dressed so simply, he'd never seen her wear any. Not even for that funeral she'd gone to. So… maybe she just couldn't afford it? No, that was impossible; her car - with its state of the art disability adaptations - had to have cost a fortune. Maybe the police had paid for it as compensation for her injuries? Probably… Someone with her background most likely had to be real careful with money.

Oh man, now he felt bad. He should have gone with the gems after all - opals or topaz, like that one he found that matched her eyes; that would have been a good gift. He sighed. Well, she was here now, and if she was terribly disappointed, he still had the rest of the day to go get it from his parents' and make it up to her.

He took two steps to the shelf where he'd put his laptop bag and a few other belongings. "Um… I didn't think I'd be giving you this so early." He reached into the side-pocket of the bag and pulled out a small soft-covered booklet. "So I didn't get to wrap it," he confessed sheepishly as he walked back to the futon, sitting down beside her. "But hum... I hope you like it. Happy Valentine's day," he concluded shyly, awkwardly handing it to her.

She flushed, her movements shy and surprised. Blue eyes turned it over, widening inch by inch. The second her brain registered just what it was that her eyes were looking at, those eyes grew bigger than he'd ever seen them.

To his utter surprise, she let out a delighted scream. It was loud - too loud, because his ears were still suffering from the assault when her arms flailed wildly in the air before wrapping themselves around his neck, effectively choking him.

He was so shocked by the strong reaction that he remained frozen in that air-crushing embrace without moving a muscle. Luckily he didn't have to worry about suffocating to death, because a second later, she pulled back to gaze affectionately at the object in her hands.

"Where did you find this?" Her eyes shimmered up at him, her hand caressing the cover so lovingly he almost felt jealous.

"It's a secret," he quipped with a grin, genuinely feeling proud of himself. "Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding? I've hunted for this for eons!" she stared at it again like it was an apparition. "Besides," she grinned. "how can I complain when I have Phoenix this up close and personal? I could just kiss him." And to his dismay she did exactly that. She planted a kiss right on the cover where the super-hero's brooding lips were sketched.

"I regret it already," he grumbled.

She laughed. "Seriously though, this is an incredibly rare collector's item, number thirty-five, the last of the original works. You can't find these anywhere anymore, and I would know 'cause I've tried." She gave it another loving look, much like the look Lime had worn on her face when he'd made true on his promise and brought her a copy of an enlarged photo of Trunks. It was one of the last pictures Bulma had taken of him before he'd departed back to his own time. Good thing Phoenix was strictly fictional, otherwise his jealousy would know no bounds.

"I don't know what to say." She turned to him, that pleased expression making him want to puff out his chest. She hugged him again with a final "Thank you", gently this time.

"You're welcome," he said softly against her delicate, warm neck. The hug lasted a little longer before she pulled back while maintaining her arms wound around his neck.

"I'll take that kiss now," she told him. Then gently tugged on his neck, pulling his face down to meet hers.

He met her gesture without hesitation, his body responding with a natural impulse that he wouldn't have recognized in the past. No more mimicking her actions, no more doubting himself. As much as this kissing business relied on practice and chemistry, he found that a lot simply relied on instinct as well.

And it was that instinct that had him dare to drift his hands from her back to the exposed belt of flesh on her waist. The same instinct that had his lips drifting from the hotness of her mouth, breathing in her fragrance as he began to taste more of the offerings of her skin. He sampled it all down her chin, trailing hot slow kisses down her neck, only to languorously circle back to wrap his tongue around her earlobe, nibbling on the soft flesh as she turned her neck to allow him more access.

His heart quickened at the taste and smell of her, reminding him that instinct or no instinct, he was still as inexperienced as before, while at the same time stubbornly making him urge to kiss all the places he'd imagined he'd kiss a girl if he ever got within touching distance of one. Places that, just thinking about them made him blush. But of course he knew better than to start groping where his hands were probably not welcome. How did that work anyway? How would he know if… if… something would be welcome or not? Should he just ask? Or plead, rather. Because if not, he'd definitely be willing to dare a slap right about now.

She moaned as he explored the area under her neck. It sounded like a good moan to him - the kind of moan that said "thank you God, I'm doing something right" - so he pursued that area, and the more she made of that soft sound, the more his nerve endings and pride alike soared. I… I might actually be good at this!

But she kept going, moaning in his ear with such guttural intensity and such desperate gasps for air in between. He was the one doing this to her. This woman - this gorgeous, sexy woman - was begging him for more. For all that he urged to give her. His body responded in spite of himself, throwing him of the logic that had kept him in control of his actions so far. His hand rushed down her waist, her hip, her good leg and bent it up for better access at her behind. It filled his hand so perfectly, enticing him with its heat, that it made him want to claw it bare of anything that would keep him from her flesh. The barrier of cotton was taunting him with the proximity; it just wasn't enough. The kissing just wasn't enough. In a moment of eagerness he sucked a little harder and gripped a little tighter. She plain out yelped.

What was that?

Startled, he pulled away, the fogginess clearing from his brain with worry taking its place. Did he hurt her? What was he thinking? This was way too much! He had no idea what he was doing, he couldn't just let it all go. Instinct was one thing, but as much as he forgot sometimes, something deep inside him could turn natural instinct into a carnal bloodbath without so much as a warning. Who knew how his Saiyan heritage would play out in these types of situations. He had to be careful.

He opened his eyes a little fearfully only to find that he'd worried needlessly. Her arms were already pulling him back to her neck, trapping him in a lock so he would not escape - fat chance he'd want to. He pressed further into her, continuing with what he'd been doing before, while reminding himself now and then to reel it back in when things would start to grow too bold. It wasn't long before he became aware of just how hard he'd become in just a span of minutes.

A warm blush heated his cheeks. Oh God, what will she think is she feels that? He felt embarrassed to have his erection pressing against her thigh so brazenly, and the worst part was: there was no chance she couldn't be feeling it. Ah shit, what should I do about this?

Inexperienced as he was, he was quite worried about it. He didn't want her to misunderstand and think he was like that because he was somehow gunning to take things that far. Sure, a guy could dream and fantasize, but he wasn't exactly gunning to "seal the deal" as his father would put it. He was not that brave or better yet, that shameless.

She shifted against him, trying to get more comfortable, and Gohan berated himself for his lack of concentration. I'm thinking too much about useless things. This is not the time to think!

Beneath him, she was moaning again, tiny pants echoing in her throat while her good leg bent even further up. It curved, then wrapped around his waist. She forced his body to come even closer until his full weight was atop her, careful to keep an angle so as to not put any pressure on her bad leg.

Wait… I'm on top of her. What am I doing on top of her? I've never been on top of anyone before! He gulped, feeling a little nervous about being there. She's injured, I could crush her leg like this. I should stop this now. But the temptress beneath him seemed to have other ideas; as he tried to roll off of her, she merely trapped him there with her leg, a certain part of him agreeing with her decision as it found a new, more comfortable spot to rub against.

He groaned. Didn't she realize what she was doing to him? She was making him too damn hot for his own good! He was definitely not prepared for this level of stimulation. Trying not to let the feeling in his pants take him over yet again, he reasoned that he had to do something to slow down their pace. And his brilliant plan was to begin a hot, moist path back to the safety of her lips. Yes, restricting himself to the lips was a good idea. This would hopefully minimize those enticing gasps she made, for God knew they drove him to want to do more than just kiss her.

So he cupped her face and chose to content himself with just the lips. Even so, she was still just too delicious; her warm breath alone was enough to make him shiver in places that...

His movements stopped. What was she…O-Oh…She'd just slipped her hands inside his shirt somehow, running them lightly across his abdomen. Oh God, this was giving him goose bumps and- "Ah!" he gasped as her fingers brushed against his nipples, rubbing and pinching and eliciting reactions he didn't know his body could make.

Some kind of unrecognizable groan escaped from his throat as her mouth began to kiss and tease the flesh of his neck. Between that and the busy fingers on the hard buds of his pectorals, he was quickly being rendered incapable of thinking about anything but the sweet sensations. Was that ragged breathing really coming from him?

He fought the liquid heat building in his stomach, funneling the fog threatening to overwhelm his senses. His hands struggled to maintain their calm as the moist sensations on his neck and his ears, and the electric torture of her warm hands inside his shirt continued to fuel him higher and higher until it became too much.

He ought to beg her to stop. This was just too much action for a novice like him, not if he was expected to maintain control. But he'd sooner let Cell trample him than admit it. So he endured the sweet torture instead, willing the throbbing in his groin to be eased by rubbing - hopefully imperceptibly - gently into her thigh.

But then... the hands that had been moving inside his shirt were now busily… unbuttoning it? Was she really going to unbutton it? Uh… yeah, she definitely was, he realized. So, what did that mean? She was taking off his clothes, so did that mean… He swallowed, his throat completely dry. Does this mean…

One by one the slits of his buttons fell open. She slipped his shirt off his shoulders and helped guide it down his arms and off him completely. Now he was supporting himself on his elbows but for just a moment, since she hinted rather forcefully that it was time for a change. They spun around each other, and for a minute he actually had to remind himself to keep breathing, his attention divided between the sight of her, a vision sitting on top of him - albeit crooked due to that damn splinter - and the pressure, heat, pulsating fervor of his member as it was constricted torturously by her weight.

She was staring at his torso, he noticed, and he couldn't think of doing anything else but stare back at the lovely pink that was staining her cheeks.

It was just a chest, he told himself. He was a guy after all. There was absolutely nothing for him to feel shy, worried or pleased about. Lime had seen him topless many, many times, and it had been nothing, he'd felt nothing. But... under the scrutiny of her heated gaze he found that he felt more than just a little nothing. Actually, he felt all three of those things, no matter how he tried to talk himself out of it. He did feel exposed, and he did feel unsure of what she could possibly be thinking. But more importantly, he felt pleased that she was interested enough to keep looking.

She leaned into him then, his breath catching in his throat as her mouth circled one of his nipples without warning. Her dark hair spilled all over his torso, fanning out the deliciously fruity smell of her shampoo that only helped to reinforce his hopeless moaning, as he threaded his impatient hands through it.

She kissed each spec of him, sucking, nipping and lapping at her leisure, blinding him with passion and desire as she rendered him helpless under her ministrations. He twitched and gasped and moaned, and yes he suspected he might have even whimpered some, in those cold moments in-between kisses that dug and penetrated the open curvature of his navel.

His eyes flew open with shock as warm slender fingers began to work the buckle of his belt. Wha...what...? The cylindrical bones in his throat twitched up and down repeatedly as a blurry swirl of heat burned when his buckle was no more, and his zipper happily gave. And now, there they were, those lovely hands just going ahead and plunging inside his boxers and… t-touching what they found there as they pleased.

His own throaty groan rumbled in his ears at the first fleeting contact, shocking his heart and trapping his breath yet again, while paralysing the rest of him with anticipation and pleasure alike. Only his eyelids were able to move, blinking erratically when she slid her fist up his length from root to tip, her breath catching when he quivered under her touch. Everywhere. Thoroughly, and definitely as she pleased. It was just so… there was no word to describe it but it scared him just the same. He closed his eyes, giving into the moment while surrendering to her attacks, however unfair and of unspeakable sensations. One hand cupped and stroked expertly at that hard and desperate part of him, so grateful to her that it could actually weep - although he certainly hoped it wouldn't do any weeping anytime soon. That would just be so embarrassing and messy and… Oh God, she was squeezing him, upping the tempo and it felt so good he didn't even care what happened anymore.

Her free hand trailed electric paths along his sides, while her lips worked at carving a path up his collar, his neck, and a single fiery nibble at his earlobe before finally finding his mouth. The kiss was hard and hungry this time, her urgency and his desperation further upping the rhythm with which she stroked him. He was officially done for now, his brain was melting - harder and faster was all his body was capable of pursuing.

"K-Kata," he rasped in a ghost of a voice, tearing his mouth from hers, arms encircling her, clinging to her. He was reduced to nothing but the sum of gasps and pants and the moans he made as his body climbed higher and higher, lost in a devastating wave that exploded and spread across his nerve endings. With the dawn of the dizzying spasms that rocked his body, he buried his face into her neck as his body finally jerked, hips twitching then finally bucking uncontrollably into her hand with a pleasure his own hands had never been able to achieve.

His speedy heart was still pounding furiously in the aftermath as his breathing began to even. He held her tighter, kissing her jaw, the corner of her mouth, and finally on the forehead before he tucked her head under his chin, staying there for a while, whilst his body calmed in ethereal numbness.

.…

Roach pushed the door to the ballroom wide open, and held it there with his foot as he wheeled in his janitor cart. The room was large and circular with a stage on one end, tables and chairs set up in the middle, and a little place off to the side that was clearly being used as a dancing floor. Workers had been in the process of decorating the place, hanging large, richly colored drapes along the walls.

Wheeling his cart to the tables, the man was glad to see that the staff hadn't gotten around to placing tablecloths and silverware on it. It would've been tedious to move it all off, do what he planned to do, and then replace everything.

Reaching the nearest round wooden table, Roach stopped his cart and leaned down next to the furniture. Grabbing the legs, he lifted the table up, tilting the thing down until it rested on the floor on its side, and then finalizing the action by laying it on its top, the four legs pointing at the ceiling. It was time to get to work.

He pulled out the case for his water pressure gun and opened it. Setting the gun apparatus back on the cart, the man removed a small remote device and pressed the "on" button. A green light appeared on the device, informing him that it was indeed working. Pressing another button, he acknowledged a soft, barely audible click, and turned to look at the table legs. Towards their bottoms, little portions of the leg had flipped up, revealing a hollow space within them.

A smirk appeared on his face. His work hadn't been for naught. Because of the party that was going on at the convention center, tables had been ordered and shipped in for the occasion. What no one knew, however, was that the shipments had made a detour to a little workshop, and he'd had some modifications done to them; his little workshop to be exact. Hollowing out the legs and placing trap doors in them had taken a lot of work, but they were paying off handsomely.

Placing the remote into his pocket, he picked up his water gun and began securing all of its attachments. A narrow barrel was screwed onto the handle along with a long tube coming out of its base. Moving back to the cart, the man reached into the yellow garbage back and removed, one at a time, several small tanks, each loaded with dihydrogen monoxide in its liquid state - or water to the layman.

Linking up the tube to the nozzle of one of the tanks, he then turned back to the first table leg and got to work, hearing the water shoot out instantly, and filling up the the hollow cavity. It was done in no time at all. Retrieving the remote from his pocket again, he pressed the same button once more and watched with satisfaction the trap door swinging open. It was all going according to plan.

Shutting the door, he repeated the process with the other three legs until they were full, carefully standing the table back onto its legs once he was done with it. When he was sure it was stable, he then moved onto the other tables and did the same thing. It took awhile, but he got the job done.

And since Roach was a professional, he had done his work in a way that ended up with him next to the stage. Taking apart his pressure water gun and placing it back into its case. The water tanks had been put back into the yellow garbage bag as well.

Reaching towards the bottles of cleaning agents, he gently pushed them aside until he pulled out a pair of wire strippers. Getting onto his knees then, he crawled under the stage, searching for the stereo system wires and promptly locating its power supply and respective cables. These professional, top-of-the-line types would do the trick just fine, and as with any function, the convention center guys liked running all wires underneath the stage so as to hide them from sight and leave the backstage area clear of obstacles.

He disconnected some of the wires, and one by one, he placed them on the tool in his hand and jerked them clean, removing the insulating sleeve around them and revealing the copper wiring. He repeated this with three other wires, leaving large sections of naked wiring in his wake. Once done, he held onto the wires and began arranging them neatly towards the front of the stage leaving them just deep enough so as to be out of sight. One final step: he took his rubber gloves out of his pocket - one could never be too careful - and slowly reconnected the cables back to the active power supply. It was done; he crawled out from under the stage.

Roach knew he would have to come back at least prior to the party. He wanted to make sure everything went according to plan, so a couple more adjustments might need to be made. And of course he would have to be within range so he could put everything into motion.

But for tonight his work was over. Making sure that everything was still in place, he grabbed his cart and began pushing it back to the door.

…

Enlightenment. Life-changing clarity.

Admittedly, his life had been a rough one. No matter how he tried to cover up his existence with a happy, loving family and amazing friends, fact of the matter was that no child should have to face death at age five - give or take - and intermittently ever since. Or have the weight of the world on their shoulders at six. And again at eleven and seventeen. Admittedly, but how was he thankful for all of it right about now.

Long into the aftermath of their ministrations, after he'd calmed down fully enough to brave opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling, did Gohan venture thoughtfully into some sort of epiphany regarding the matter. This moment was worth everything: the precious curve of her back as he traced it over and over, and all the rest of her beautiful body on his, resting in a peaceful silence where it lain after his journey to the moon was done and over with. It was delicately weighing him with all the feelings so incredibly deep he'd never be capable of making them up in his dreams, but as unbelievable as they were, they also brought unfathomable transparency. This moment was what he'd fought for, and it was with no shame that, even though he had this perfect woman in his arms, his thoughts had drifted to an old pervert of all people. As did his most sincere esteem and respect.

Elder Kai, for existing just as much has his wonderful girlfriend… Thank you.

Had it not been for him, if he hadn't brought out his latent power - the same power he used to kill Majin Buu… They all fought so hard that day, but only now was he able to see just how much he would have lost to that monster. Never knowing her. Never holding her like this, or recognizing this scent, experiencing this warmth and this touch and this desire to never let her go. The world had been at stake - the Earth, the Universe, and every life-form on it, but selfishly that didn't even matter, nothing more than side-effects for what was being robbed of him. His Videl, and all that she encompassed.

To never be this certain of himself, so secure of his own being in such a way that assured him no more worries or doubts about her past, or her crimes and subsequent obligations to the police. He belonged to her - as surely as his heart was beating in his chest - and he'd defeat all of her enemies, even if they came in the form of archaic magical constructs with no sense but destructive purpose.

To never comprehend that his life-long aversion to violence meant nothing when there was so much to protect... This peacefulness for finally being able to grasp it, unquestionably, within his very soul… To never have lived this.

Thank goodness for Elder Kai.

Time was up, though, the present was calling. He shifted his weight, wondering where to begin. Sure he was inexperienced, but he was definitely well read, and as amazing as what had just happened between them had been, it had all been about him. He wanted to attempt to make her feel half as good as she'd made him, being extra careful to maneuver himself in a way that wouldn't disturb her leg too much.

He disconnected his chin from her head and started furrowing his nose down to her temple and her cheek, placing small kisses here and there. Maybe he should start at her earlobe, since that bite earlier almost drove him crazy all by itself. He had teased hers before too, but didn't quite get if it was as pleasurable as he wanted it to be for her. Okay, Gohan, think. Erogenous zones in the female body… There was the breasts, sure, but he couldn't jump right to that just yet. The feet, the inner thighs...

"There are things I haven't told you about myself," she interrupted his flow.

Gohan paused his motion, threading a hand to brush dark locks away from her face. "You can tell me anything," he murmured.

A sigh. "Apparently I have trust issues," she said almost bitterly, like a confession to an unpleasant truth.

"You can trust me," he assured her, kissing her cheek a few more times before cupping her chin and forcing her eyes to look up at his. "You can trust me," he repeated. Whatever it was, whatever trouble she was in or had been in, it didn't matter. He would move mountains, or planets, or time itself if he had to - Trunks had.

"There's a reason… I mean, the online dating thing... I know it's becoming rather popular now, a fad of sorts, and most people will try it at least once you know?"

Err… well, actually he didn't know, he wouldn't have a clue about the statistics. He could do a study on it though.

"…curiosity mostly," she was saying. "But, for me it was more… necessity."

"Why?" he croaked. So she really was hiding.

"It's complicated," she said.

"I'm listening." And he was. Only, his heart was beating so fast he was worried it might pound louder than her voice.

"Have you ever heard of S-Stripped?" He could hear her holding her breath.

"Um, no. I can't say that I have. What is it?"

"A very popular university podcast last year. This group of guys - idiots really. They… they had this scam going." She paused as if thinking over her next words. "They would… I guess dupe girls into these faux relationships."

"Faux… how?"

"Easily, they just pretend to like you, date you, and as soon as the girl is ready to take the relationship to the next level…" There was anger in her voice now, and… tension.

"Go on," he coaxed gently.

"The guy would set it up so the girl… so the girl would be caught undressed on camera - with a live feed," she spat bitterly, "to any low-life watching on the internet."

"Wow," he couldn't fathom why any guy would want to do that. "That's just… that's just low, not to mention a violation of the privacy laws - Intrusion upon Seclusion, I think." He began to ponder on the morality and legalities, eying the white ceiling as he accessed the respective memories when… he suddenly paused, an inexplicable feeling grabbing his heart and holding it stationary, the air blocked on his airways. Warily, he brought his gaze down again almost in fear of what her stiffness was trying to tell him.

God... It was slow coming, but the realization finally hit home with a pang and a wave of absolute coldness that flowed from his chest and through his members, evaporating out his fingers and toes. It was short lived but enough to enhance the fire that was left in its stead, burning deep from within his very core and sputtering at his muscles with controlled twitches of anger.

How could anyone have... to her... to his... His mind was racing, eyes focused on nothing in particular but scorching it dead anyway. He needed the bastard's name to get his address, and then-

"I thought I knew him you know?" she filled the tense silence with betrayed words that showed her hurt and diverted his focus from a murderous craze. "But it was all one big set up."

"Videl," his voice trembled, arms tightening around her in resolve. "I don't know what to say." He wasn't one to abuse his connections but… he would visit Bulma and see to it that every server in the world that had even a trace of those pictures was destroyed. Then he'd-

"You don't have to say anything. Unlike many other girls, I just so happen to have a best-friend who was undoubtedly the nosiest, most annoying busy-body on campus." She chuckled fondly. "She's always poking into my business, always. Somehow she got wind of everything; she saved me in the nick of time."

The tension in his shoulders subsided, but his outrage and anger did not. "No wonder she was so suspicious of me," he whispered to himself. "And the guy?" He had to ask what had become of that worm. With his strength, it couldn't be considered as anything but petty bullying - he saw that now, blind rage dissipating - but… he still wanted to deck the guy, at least once.

"Oh, him?" She turned away guiltily. "I may have overdone it a bit, but I was just, so angry - still, I should have held back." She frowned.

"You… punched him?" he couldn't help but hope so.

Videl scoffed. "The last I heard from my dad's lawyers, he was finally making a full recovery post rib-replacement surgery."

Gohan gaped. "Y-You… you shattered his ribs?"

"Three. Like I said, I was angry. I have better control of my temper now."

Well then… apparently his father was not the only Son with a taste for temperamental and dangerous women. He grinned, he wasn't vindictive by nature, not at all, but he'd never had someone in his life that jumbled his feelings quite like her, before. This need to protect her... he could just imagine the scolding she'd give him for ever even considering that she'd need a bodyguard of any kind, but it was his necessity more than anything else. At the end of the day, he just felt glad that the guy had suffered for his tryst and pulled her closer. "I keep telling you - cruel woman."

She laughed, a dance of blue mist glittering in her eyes. Frankly, he couldn't find it in him to feel any kind of sympathy for the guy. Three ribs was the least he deserved. It was clear to him now: her entanglement with the police was because of this incident. Invasion of Privacy was a tort at best - the most the law could do was enforce a hefty fine- but Videl's case was different. Assault, no matter the extenuating circumstances, was still very much a crime. What he wouldn't give to un-make the whole ordeal for her, to make it so she'd never even met that lousy guy, let alone having her forced to deal with the lingering legal consequences of their faux relationship. "I guess I understand how you got entangled with the police now."

She stiffened once again, turning up to face him cautiously. "W-What do you mean by that?" There was a squeak in her voice that was totally new.

"Well, I kinda worked it out a few days ago," he said sheepishly. "I didn't want to bring it up until you were ready to talk about it."

"W-What are you saying? What do you know?" Wide eyes stared at him with alarm.

"Videl, it's okay," he assured her. He might as well tell her everything he knew so they'd get this whole business out in the open. "I've already guessed that you're some kind of high-level CI."

Gobsmacked didn't even begin to describe the expression on her face. It had been three years since he'd seen such a devastatingly astounded expression. He could very well be on the Kai planet, staring at Kibito's poleaxed face when he'd retrieved the Z-sword. The blue-eyed beauty lying on top of him was just that shocked.

It took her a moment to recover, and then she hid her face on his chest and began shaking from laughter. "All this time," she heaved. "Y-You've... you've been…you've been thinking I was a CI?"

"Aren't you?"

"What could have possibly convinced you to leap to such a far-fetched conclusion, Mr. Scientist?" She was still laughing, her body imbued in delicious quakes against his chest.

"Well, all your connections for one," he pointed out. "You made one call, and the entire Gold-City and Blue-City police forces were suddenly bending over backwards to co-operate. Plus!" he added rather loudly. "All that 'volunteer' work?" he inverted "volunteer" with his fingers.

She narrowed her eyes at the implication. "What about it?"

"I thought you had some kind of legal obligation to them! Why else would they keep harassing you, forcing you to consort with hardened criminals on their behalf?"

"Wow," she stared in disbelief. "You thought I was… some kind of reforming criminal? Some kind of out of luck snitch? I'm speechless."

"So," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Incorrect interpretation?"

She chuckled good-naturedly. "Very, incorrect. Though, not entirely baseless."

He chuckled as she cupped his face. She looked inexplicably pleased for reasons he couldn't quite point out, though the peacefulness was always welcome.

"It's good to know," she began with a smile, "that you would have stuck with me even if I was some kind of post-delinquent youth."

"I'm sticking with you no matter what," he declared, planting kisses at the corners of her mouth. "No matter what." His hands cupped the back of her head, fingers threading lines and circles down her scalp as he kissed her even more.

"Even if..." she pulled back, lips rosy and bruised. "Even if..." An exhale through the hesitation, the inch of air separating them warm and tantalizing. "Even if my father happens to be the one person you want absolutely nothing to do with?"

Thin, stringy cobwebs weaved a net of confusion around him. "What do you mean?"

"You asked me earlier." She swallowed dry. "You asked me why I was taking it all so personally, remember?"

He felt her retreating from him, a strange sort of sad look shadowing her features. His heart immediately hammered in a panic. How could it not when she was telling him so much with her eyes alone. They had that look of cornered prey, and it knocked the breath out of him because he had no idea where it was coming from.

His fingers threaded through her hair, massaging, reassuring. "You're losing me here," he murmured gently. "What are we talking about now? What did you take personally?"

"Urgh!" Her hands shoved at his chest, attempting to push him back as she yelled. "Just what did we argue about earlier, huh? Do you have the memory of a fish?" she fired in rapid succession, attempting to disentangle her head from his hold. But his fingers held, gently cradling her head. He wasn't about to let her go, lest she run from him again while he was trying to figure this out.

His thoughts reversed, as quickly as he could follow them, the sharp edges of his mind working quickly to clear away all the unwanted cobwebs of confusion. Eyes fixed on the flighty contours of her face, it didn't take him long. His pulse shot up as the picture cleared, recalling exactly what they'd been arguing about. Every sordid last word. And just like that he was swaying in place, his blood dizzied by the only conclusion he could reach.

"You're…" He swallowed, the truth hitting him bits at a time like a sudden and entirely unexpected hail storm.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I'm Videl Satan. The Champ is my father."

…

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