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Yamcha was beginning to find himself gulping at Tien's figure and didn't know why.
Or rather, he knew why and didn't want to believe it. Yamcha, the ladies man, the 'handsome' one of the group couldn't be falling for someone like Tien. Hell, he couldn't be falling for a man period. What, was he fucking nuts?
.. Was he crazy?
Because every time he thought about it, Tien was.. everything he would want in a woman. Responsible, brave, determined and.. oddly charming. Not only that, but Tien had the balls to try and kick his ass and make fun of him while doing it. Not many people could get away with that, but Tien.. did. Tien got away with a lot of things, and Yamcha didn't quite know how to deal with it.
Particularly, Yamcha let Tien get away with awing him in sheer and utter bravery.
You see, Yamcha had seen Tien face the demons of himself and fight himself back. Mercenaries, leaders, murderers and more had trained Tien to be a calculated killer, and Tien had even abused Yamcha from that mind's eye. But even so, Tien broke free. His strong, determination-willed soul had saved him from falling to the horrors that Mercenary Tao committed. Then, Yamcha was able to see into his true self, the side that Chiaotzu loved. He found himself falling in love, too, in a much different way than anticipated.
"Yamcha," Tien breathed as he rushed into Kame House. Yamcha took a glance over from his magazine.
"Whad'ya want, Triclo- Oh, my god."
Tien's chest wound from the World Martial Arts Tournament was wide open, rivulets of blood flowing down his chest. His chest wound was exposed, fairly deep, and Tien's whole body was pale and clammy. Yamcha found himself standing up, rushing, moving to hold Tien before he could fall down.
"I," Tien stammered, out of breath, "my wound- I was picking up my shirt- it ripped open, I saw it in my mirror-"
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Yamcha soothed, trying not to lose his own shit, "it's okay, buddy. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get to the doc right away, and they'll be able to fix it up for you."
Tien's breath slowly increased in hitch. "..find me," he incoherently mumbled amidst his mental descent, ".. kill me, I can't run, no.."
Yamcha remembered that no one was in the house. Krillin, Goku, and Master Roshi were grocery shopping. He would have to take Tien himself. "Hey, buddy," Yamcha gently soothed, "I'm right here. I got you safe and sound." In one casual movement, Yamcha found himself lifting Tien wedding style to avoid putting weight on his reopened wound.
".. What are you doing?" Tien weakly muttered, Yamcha noticing how much he was shivering in his arms. All Yamcha could do was smirk sadly.
"Takin' 'ya to the hospital, Three-Eyes. C'mon, let's go," Yamcha said, gently maneuvering Tien through the front door and off to West City Prompt Care.
"Yamcha," Tien weakly muttered somewhere over the Pacific, "I feel like I'm gonna be sick." Yamcha's mind immediately went to disgust but managed to shake it off. He quickly found a small inlet of land to stop on, and, as expected, Tien indeed got sick into the ocean. Tien's entire body was shaking, sheet white and clammy. Yamcha felt extreme concern.
"Tien, what the hell's going on..?" Yamcha asked, kneeling by Tien and holding his shoulder while he recovered. The summer heat roiled, uncaring as Tien spit into the sea.
"I feel like I'm going to die," Tien choked, coughing remnants of his sickness into the sea. Yamcha rubbed his shoulder softly, trying to avoid carressing the weak, warm muscles.
"I'm gonna get you somewhere safe, okay? Once they stitch up that wound, you'll be good as new," Yamcha said, trying to be encouraging as he moved to pick Tien up once more. What he didn't expect, however, was a dazed Tien to hold his arm, keeping him in place. Yamcha caught his gentle stare, one of thankfulness, kindness, so.. odd to see.
"Yamcha," Tien trailed off weakly, finding it hard to focus. He said nothing more, his expression saying the words that he couldn't.
Yamcha felt his heart flip in his chest. A smile rose.
"You're welcome, knucklehead," Yamcha said, smiling as he flew off with Tien in his arms.
If he was a lunatic, he could've swore he felt Tien's hand lightly clutch to Yamcha's shirt. He didn't know what to do about it, so he let it be.
"The doctor said to stay put. Now, sit the fuck down or this soup'll burn," Yamcha said, stirring the pot of tomato soup on his cruddy apartment stovetop. Tien huffed loudly from the living room.
"I'm not a child, Yamcha, I can at least help stir the damn thing," Tien said indignantly as he flopped back on the couch, Yamcha immediately 'up-up-up-up!'-ing him.
"No, you're not! I'm not dealin' with you bleeding all over Puar and I's shit. Just sit the hell back and let me do something nice for you," Yamcha said, moving to get the glass bowls from his cupboard. Tien groaned loudly.
Puar was trimming up the flower bushes in the sunset-lit yard; the landlord took a bit of money off of their rent for it, and Puar found keeping things clean a fun way to chill out. Some music was playing through Yamcha's old radio, Yamcha humming along with the tune as he put the bowls on the counter. It really was a good song, though. Too bad Tien wasn't allowed to listen to music under Tao and Shen's instruction.
"You taught me how to speak in love," Yamcha hummed under his breath, "your kisses taught me how to speak in lo~ve." Tien snorted.
"..Kisses? How the hell does that work?" Tien snickered, eyebrows furrowed in mocking amusement. Yamcha shook his head and waved him off.
"Poor Tien, not knowing good music when it hits him. Poor damn soul," Yamcha sighed dramatically, wistfully 'mourning' at Tien's direction. Tien glanced at him, eyes pierced and smile snarky.
"Uh-huh. Y'know, I think I've heard donkeys sing better," Tien commented, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. He then hissed in quiet agony at his chest scar before moving his hands away.
"Oh, yeah?" Yamcha scoffed, "Let me hear you try, Earth's-Got-Talent. C'mon, let's hear it." Tien immediately went red from his chin to his forehead.
"Hell no. I don't need to; I already know I'm good," Tien said, closing his eyes as he tried backing up from Yamcha's dare. Yamcha laughed loudly, rapping his wooden spoon against the pot of tomato soup.
"Now, I know I'm smelling tomato's asshole right now, but I think I'm also smellin' a quitter!" Yamcha proclaimed. "Don'tch' think so, Puar?" he called out the window to the front yard.
"Pretty stinky!" Puar's voice yelled from a few floors down. Tien's expression bittered before gritting his teeth and shaking his head.
"If I didn't have this scar problem, I'd be point-blank from beating your ass into submission," Tien said angrily, face tinged red from embarrassment.
Yamcha raised his eyebrows and whistled in amusement. "Atta'babe, Tien. Slavin' over a hot stove, makin' you some fuckin' food from your fuckin' scar bein in the fuckin' way, and this is how I'm repaid. I'll keep that in mind when your headwax runs out, you bald little asshole."
Tien immediately startled into attention. "I'm not bald, you twit! I just shave my head!" Tien cried out defensively. Yamcha just giggled and moved the soup pot to the side, getting a ladle.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Baldy. Now, c'mon, soup's done."
Tien's face burned, hesitant, before moving up to get soup. Yamcha couldn't help but smirk; God, was he fun to mess with.
The lights of the 7-Eleven glimmered neon on Yamcha's hair, smoke from his cigarette wafting into the cold autumn night air. The moon shimmered crescent-shaped above them, Yamcha weakly staring at his cigarette before tossing it onto the ground and crushing it harshly with his foot.
Traffic moved all around them, car tires rolling against hard asphalt and horns honking from somewhere in West City. Indigo drowned out color, sounds, feelings as they stood against the large glass panes of the convenience store.
Tien stood by his side, cold in the night air with only a t-shirt and jeans. Honestly, there was nothing Tien could say. Nothing he ever could say could soothe him, heal the burns inflicted on his desert-made soul.
Yamcha sighed and took a breath in.
"Maybe this is where I belong."
Tien glanced at him, numbness in his stomach. Yamcha looked back. His dark eyes were full of vulnerability.
"The darkness. The night. Maybe this is all that's left," Yamcha said, eyes never leaving Tien's. Someone in the distance honked loudly, a loud, cursing argument following. Tien's stare never left his.
Yamcha's eyes watered, from the wind or from his own internal loss he wasn't sure. God, he wanted to love Tien so bad. His friend, the one he just.. was with. But, alas, just as life, he would never be able to. The world just didn't work that way. He hated it, even wondered why he even protected it if he couldn't even love his stupid fucking fighting partner.
The world dusted in dark, in a vivid indigo as it brushed past them. A bright set of car lights flashed across Tien's face, an expression blank and gentle remaining. Red was dusted across his cheekbones, the color of desaturated stoplights.
His stare never broke.
He was why.
Yamcha collapsed one blizzard morning, head flushed with a roaring fever. He remembered faintly the blurs of snowflakes in the front lawn, how the sky seemed to gray and shift upwards before he found himself staring into the ground. The world was so.. cold. The snow was cold on his face, and he couldn't find the energy or will to move. He would never get the mail checked at this rate.
Puar came out screaming before flying over and begging him to get up, what happened, oh, no!
His mind blurred; first, he heard Puar talking, then mid-sentence it was completely silent. Weakly, barely managing to move his head upwards, Puar was nowhere to be found. Yamcha blinked, attempting to wiggle his fingers before realizing he was in the apartment. A blanket was wrapped tightly around him, head clouded with pain.
"Yamcha!" Tien yelled from the kitchen, Yamcha hearing a scrape of a chair before quick footsteps, "Good lord, what the hell were you thinking?!"
Yamcha, face red as a cherry, giggled sickly. "What the hell are you talking about..?" Yamcha croaked, clearing his throat to no effect. Tien was all fear, Yamcha finding himself almost.. upset at how concerned Tien was. He never wanted to see Tien that worried again, not for the world. Tien sighed and kneeled by the sofa, placing a hand gently on Yamcha's covered chest.
"You blacked out for hours, Yamcha. Something about hyperpyrexia; your body temperature could have caused brain damage at how high it was," Tien said softly, Yamcha's eyes widening.
".. God, it was just a fever," Yamcha muttered in weak confusion, "It wasn't even that bad, Tien.."
Tien smiled softly. "Well, apparently it was. Tell that to the house call doctor that came in a while back. You were out like a light," Tien said, relieved at Yamcha's awakening.
"How did I even get here..? How did you? All I remember was falling down in the snow, Puar was flipping her shit, and, well, here I am," Yamcha said, resting his head against the sofa pillow.
Tien gently kept his hand at Yamcha's chest and scooted closer to the sofa. "Chiaotzu felt like something was wrong and telepathy'd Puar. Puar was, as you said, 'flipping her shit.' Puar called up a doctor at Chiaotzu's suggestion, and, well, I ended up coming over to make sure everything was alright," Tien said, smiling gently. Yamcha glanced back behind Tien into the kitchen and saw a chair, tissues on the kitchen counter. Tien's boots were off, glazed with ice and snow.
Yamcha wanted to do much more than what he could, but he just smirked at Tien and chuckled.
"Thanks, honey," he teased quietly, knowing full well he wasn't wanting to be joking.
Tien went a smidgen red before gazing at him with that blank look again.