jively :: iii
-in flight;
FANDOM: Dragonball.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Tenshinhan/Yamcha; mentions: Kuririn, various.
RATING: T.
WORD COUNT: 555.
PROMPT: 10pastryhearts; nostalgia/wanderlust.
SUMMARY: They were different, then; and still.
and you fade
[change the world.]
The flicker of a midnight fire no longer heats his skin and the null voice of campfire songs no longer fills his ears. Instead he finds comfort only in clutching Tenshinhan's shoulders, moving forward one step at a time.
Barely a day before, they'd cleared the way of a deadly twist of stones and molten; together, saved a small village from being swept away like they were true-blue heroes. ("Hah," Yamcha interjects. Tenshinhan shushes him, holds him just a little tighter.) As nightfall quickly sank, it was logic and logic alone to say they stay just a little longer, indulge in a few final festivities and keep on to Karin Tower in the morning.
Even as the aftermath approached, the jog and jitter of dancers slowly fading, Yamcha collapsed. Tenshinhan had caught him even before he hit the ground, grabbing him about the waist and willing his feet to move. Now, now-doors to a small hut come into view through his haze, the itch of dying carpet scratching effortlessly at his toes though the wear of his shoes. Next, he feels soft-cotton sheets.
"You're drunk," Tenshinhan says simply, curtly, fumbling in the dull-lit for a blanket to warm him.
The mute sound of Kuririn's snores breaches the walls. Yamcha laughs, a low grumble, tongue all of a sudden feeling bitter and raw. Inhibitions usually tight-nit begin to rumble. "And you broke my leg."
Calloused palms sink him into the mattress, breath brushing over his nose. He doesn't move in those first few seconds, doesn't wriggle doesn't shift doesn't jolt; merely stares. Tenshinhan's eyes are no more wild than they are calm, but Yamcha doesn't dare feel uneasy. He simply smiles; smiles a cutting smile.
A tension etches. Yamcha's skin is flushed and hot beneath Tenshinhan's hands, the roll of his shoulders lax and soft and not without vulnerability. The stench of alcohol begins to creep up. Tenshinhan moves away, sits at the edge of the bed and looks to his lap. "I'm not a murderer."
Yamcha's not sure how he's feeling in that moment, too intoxicated to even blink. But he bites back, then, bites back and lets his smile drop. He's settled on his elbows; he reaches. "Huh? No, you-"
"I wanted to kill you, Yamcha," Tenshinhan cuts in, "I thought I wanted to kill you."
(There's a whirl, a whirl, of things he could have done; none seem to make so much sense:) His eyes are glazed and half-lidded when he finally acts on instinct alone, and in the end he's falling back down to the mattress, tugging Tenshinhan along with him; and he's kissing him-tongue and teeth and desperate and oh so sorry. "Damnit, Tenshinhan," he groans, and he feels stupid; stupid for so many things. "D-Damnit."
Tenshinhan's silent and still, only for a moment; he takes a hold of Yamcha's wrists and coaxes him away. Yamcha squirms, just a little, reaching and grasping sudden-empty air. A flood of light sweeps in, shadow shaking, from the crack of the open door. "You're drunk." It clicks shut. He's gone.
"Tenshinhan," Yamcha heaves, breathless. He's fully-clothed, dusty dirty tired and worn. His mind's neither flaming nor serene as he rolls onto his side; pulls his knees up, hugs the grit wall, feels the graze against his fingers. And he falls asleep, then.
The fire outside finally dies away, a blast and a boom and a spark.
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Finally! I have written for this pairing! Haha. (I hope I actually did them justice.) The changing tense was intentional, by the way; damn thing didn't want to be written any other way. If you're wondering: the timeline for this actually involves the two-part filler/anime-only episode where, on their way to Karin Tower, they save a small village from an erupting volcano. ~!
* This drabble won best overall for week 11 at 10pastryhearts.
FANDOM: Dragonball.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Tenshinhan/Yamcha; mentions: Kuririn, various.
RATING: T.
WORD COUNT: 555.
PROMPT: 10pastryhearts; nostalgia/wanderlust.
SUMMARY: They were different, then; and still.
and you fade
[change the world.]
The flicker of a midnight fire no longer heats his skin and the null voice of campfire songs no longer fills his ears. Instead he finds comfort only in clutching Tenshinhan's shoulders, moving forward one step at a time.
Barely a day before, they'd cleared the way of a deadly twist of stones and molten; together, saved a small village from being swept away like they were true-blue heroes. ("Hah," Yamcha interjects. Tenshinhan shushes him, holds him just a little tighter.) As nightfall quickly sank, it was logic and logic alone to say they stay just a little longer, indulge in a few final festivities and keep on to Karin Tower in the morning.
Even as the aftermath approached, the jog and jitter of dancers slowly fading, Yamcha collapsed. Tenshinhan had caught him even before he hit the ground, grabbing him about the waist and willing his feet to move. Now, now-doors to a small hut come into view through his haze, the itch of dying carpet scratching effortlessly at his toes though the wear of his shoes. Next, he feels soft-cotton sheets.
"You're drunk," Tenshinhan says simply, curtly, fumbling in the dull-lit for a blanket to warm him.
The mute sound of Kuririn's snores breaches the walls. Yamcha laughs, a low grumble, tongue all of a sudden feeling bitter and raw. Inhibitions usually tight-nit begin to rumble. "And you broke my leg."
Calloused palms sink him into the mattress, breath brushing over his nose. He doesn't move in those first few seconds, doesn't wriggle doesn't shift doesn't jolt; merely stares. Tenshinhan's eyes are no more wild than they are calm, but Yamcha doesn't dare feel uneasy. He simply smiles; smiles a cutting smile.
A tension etches. Yamcha's skin is flushed and hot beneath Tenshinhan's hands, the roll of his shoulders lax and soft and not without vulnerability. The stench of alcohol begins to creep up. Tenshinhan moves away, sits at the edge of the bed and looks to his lap. "I'm not a murderer."
Yamcha's not sure how he's feeling in that moment, too intoxicated to even blink. But he bites back, then, bites back and lets his smile drop. He's settled on his elbows; he reaches. "Huh? No, you-"
"I wanted to kill you, Yamcha," Tenshinhan cuts in, "I thought I wanted to kill you."
(There's a whirl, a whirl, of things he could have done; none seem to make so much sense:) His eyes are glazed and half-lidded when he finally acts on instinct alone, and in the end he's falling back down to the mattress, tugging Tenshinhan along with him; and he's kissing him-tongue and teeth and desperate and oh so sorry. "Damnit, Tenshinhan," he groans, and he feels stupid; stupid for so many things. "D-Damnit."
Tenshinhan's silent and still, only for a moment; he takes a hold of Yamcha's wrists and coaxes him away. Yamcha squirms, just a little, reaching and grasping sudden-empty air. A flood of light sweeps in, shadow shaking, from the crack of the open door. "You're drunk." It clicks shut. He's gone.
"Tenshinhan," Yamcha heaves, breathless. He's fully-clothed, dusty dirty tired and worn. His mind's neither flaming nor serene as he rolls onto his side; pulls his knees up, hugs the grit wall, feels the graze against his fingers. And he falls asleep, then.
The fire outside finally dies away, a blast and a boom and a spark.
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Finally! I have written for this pairing! Haha. (I hope I actually did them justice.) The changing tense was intentional, by the way; damn thing didn't want to be written any other way. If you're wondering: the timeline for this actually involves the two-part filler/anime-only episode where, on their way to Karin Tower, they save a small village from an erupting volcano. ~!
* This drabble won best overall for week 11 at 10pastryhearts.
