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It was a good thing they’d started work on the farm as soon as they’d traded greetings because now the sky was a few minutes away from turning angry. Thick grey clouds rolled overhead, threatening to spill it’s icy water. A fat droplet landed somewhere in the wilderness that was Yamcha’s hair, just as he curled his fingers around the emerald green leaves of a radish. His nose twitched against the sting of the cold air, the musty smell that came before rain and the aroma of freshly moved soil. With little effort, Yamcha disturbed the radish and pulled it from it’s home in the ground. He dusted it off, a habit of his, and reached over his shoulder, then dropped the radish into the basket strapped to his back.
A few steps away from him, Tien was standing up straight, one hand occupied with a radish as the other tilted up his straw hat so he could peer into the sky. Yamcha figured that Tien would also notice the shift in weather, as the man travelled a lot more than he did. Tien regarded Yamcha with a raised brow to which he responded with a shrug. Despite being from the desert, precipitation didn’t bother him very much and it definitely wasn’t something that’d stop him from doing a task. Unless it was heavy rainfall, Yamcha didn’t see the need to stop their work because of a few droplets of water. Tien seemed to agree, because the man focused his attention back on pulling out the last few radishes.
By the time Yamcha’d begun to sort the crops into crates, the rain began to pour down. Strands of his hair uncomfortably clung to his face and his bangs made seeing much more troublesome than it needed to be. A hand tapped his shoulder and Yamcha looked over to see Tien who had crates in his arms whilst he cocked his head towards the house.
The two shuffled inside - they nearly got stuck in the door frame due to their haste - and were comforted by the warmth of the fireplace. Yamcha let a brrr escape his mouth before his muscles fizzled against the sudden temperature change. Tien had disappeared as soon as they’d entered and only just came back with a towel in his hands. After Yamcha placed his coat on the coat rack, Tien handed the towel over to him. Yamcha made sure to thank him and then began work on patting down his wet hair and face. It was so soft that he had to fight against drowning in it’s comfort.
“Talk about a surprise attack, huh? The weather report said it’d be clear skies today.” Yamcha muffled against the towel and hoped Tien had heard him.
“The weather has always been unpredictable around these parts in the mountains. Did you bring any spare clothes?” When Yamcha shook his head, Tien continued, “That’s fine. I think you might’ve left some from your last visit. If not, I may have something that will fit you.” The statement was followed by the heavy ruffling of a coat and the rhythmic thumping of his familiar footsteps disappearing into the hallway.
Yamcha paused. Thoughts of wearing Tien’s clothes around his slimmer frame resonated through his mind. He had no doubt that they’d be comfortable, Tien had always been a comfort over fashion type of guy, but there was also something very intimate about wearing someone else's clothes that brought warm blood to his cheeks. The only time he’d shared clothes with someone was with Bulma. When they were together, she’d often steal his jumper or he’d take off his jacket and lay it around her shoulders when the evening got cold and wet, much like this one.
Instead of dwelling on unreciprocated feelings, Yamcha reminded himself of why he’d visited in the first place. Tien just came back from the Tournament Of Power and Yamcha was excited to hear about how it’d went. Though he wished he’d been able to go himself, hearing the story from Tien’s perspective was pretty much the same as seeing it in person because he always described scenes in great detail. Tien’s third eye was obviously not just for aesthetic purposes. The things it was able to pick up on and observe never failed to amaze Yamcha.
Another reason was that Tien had seemed rather down. From the little that Yamcha saw of him (the man always looked intensely busy so Yamcha had chosen not to disturb him), at first he thought that Tien was just in a sort of training rut, or perhaps his students hadn’t been performing well lately, but that was denied by Chiaotzu who’d come to visit one day. He said, “Tien’s been training non-stop since he got back, Yamcha. I know we usually make fun of that but something’s different. He’s doing it more than ever and I’m concerned that he’s pushing himself too hard! He isn’t listening to me when I tell him to slow down.” After that, he'd asked Yamcha if he could talk to him, and Yamcha had quickly agreed.
Yamcha folded the towel and set it on the side. Tien appeared back in new, dry clothes: a simple white top and his familiar green gi trousers. A flurry of nostalgia fell over him, Yamcha hadn’t seen that specific outfit in a long while.
“I found clothes for you until yours dry. I’ll hang them up later so just leave them in the clothes basket.” Tien told him and moved into the kitchen. “I’ll brew us some tea while you change.”
“Thanks, man.” Yamcha replied and made his way to Tien’s room, the whistling of the kettle died away as he stepped foot into the chamber. A pale-yellow top and another pair of gi-trousers (was that the only style of casual clothes he owned?) was laid out neatly on the edge of the bed. Yamcha peeled his clothes from his frame before he changed into the fresh ones and felt a little silly when they were a size bigger than what he was used to. He grabbed a belt and tied it around his waist to stop the trousers from falling and dumped his drenched clothes in the basket as Tien had ordered. Water residue hung to his fingers but he quickly, and apologetically, wiped it on the back of the gi-bottoms.
The air of the main room was accompanied by a homely scent of ginger tea. On the couch sat Tien, a steaming cup smothered between his martial artist hands and a hard look on his face. Yamcha refused to fidget when Tien noticed and scanned him with his curious eyes. “My size is a bit big for you, hm?”
If it'd been said by anyone else, Yamcha might've taken offense to that. “Hey, believe it or not, some of us aren’t built like warehouses. Besides, Wolf Fang Fist requires a leaner body.” He sat beside him and reached for his own cup on the side table. “Where’s Chiaotzu, anyways? His room’s empty.”
“I was wondering when you'd ask. Other farmers like to hire him because of his expertise with telekinesis. You already know how much more efficient farming is when he’s working alongside us.” Tien sipped his tea and sighed in satisfaction before he asked his own question, “What about Puar?”
“At Bulma’s place. Trunks and Goten are having a sleepover and he was invited.” Yamcha told him and touched the cup to his lips, “So, are you going to tell me about it?”
“Tell you about what?” Tien peeped at him with interest. Yamcha put his cup back down after deciding the liquid was much too hot and scrunched his brows slightly. It was a surprise that Tien didn't immediately understand what he was asking.
“The Tournament Of Power,” Yamcha pushed, “I couldn’t go so I want all the details!"
“The Tournament. . .” Tien nodded and went on to explain everything he'd seen: the different universes, the wide range of lifeforms, the expansive uses of techniques. He detailed each battle he'd observed, relayed the fight in a simple, report style way which made it easy to picture. Tien didn't talk much when conversations concerned other subjects, but when it came to martial arts, suddenly his speech knew no bounds. After adding in a few details about Zeno, Tien lifted his tea cup and drank, a telling sign that he was done.
Yamcha processed what he'd been told. It seemed that the Tournament Of Power really had been as insane as he'd thought. He could hardly imagine the power levels that had been on display, the uniqueness of every Martial Artist and their styles, even though Tien had just taken his time with describing each one. After a moment, Yamcha felt that something was missing. Tien had relayed everything but his own fights, which was very out of character for such a prideful man like him. "Hang on, I said I wanted all of the details."
"I told you all of the details." Tien frowned.
"Yeah, but you hardly mentioned your own opponents. What's up with that, man?" Tien, the most impulsively fearless man he knew, winced. It was slight, but Yamcha caught it. He also caught the way Tien's hands clenched around the cup. Yamcha was concerned that he'd crush the thing in his ever so tightening grip.
"I didn't do much," he gritted out, "I was one of the firsts to get disqualified; right after Krillin."
Now everything made sense. Tien had always been one to train harder than ever when he thought he wasn’t good enough and being one of the firsts to be defeated must’ve pushed a button or two. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him since Yamcha’d met him during the 22nd Tenka-Ichi Budokai.
Tink!
“Tien?”
Tea secreted into the fabric of Tien’s bottoms. He opened his fists to reveal the now destroyed tea-cup, his hand red from a stray shard that’d cut the skin. “I know I have limits,” he said, “but I never thought my progress would end so underwhelmingly. I feel as though I haven’t truly become the best that I could be, yet the tournament seemed to have proven otherwise.”
Without hesitation, Yamcha went to go get a first aid kit - he’d been here so many times that he didn’t need to be told where it was - and then kneeled in front of Tien. Gently, he picked up the pieces from Tien’s hands and set them aside before he wiped away the liquid with a cloth. The cuts weren’t deep enough to cause much concern, they’d both suffered worse, but Yamcha’d be lying if he said it wasn’t upsetting to see. “Here’s what I believe,” Yamcha made his voice as soft as he could, “sure, we’re not like Saiyans or Namekians or any other race you’ve mentioned. We don’t have transformations we can go through to up our power levels or we aren’t born specifically to be fighters, but I think we do have something special to us. Our brains, man, are always learning stuff, you moresore because of that third eye you’ve got. People say that the sky’s the limit and I didn’t believe that at first, but after meeting you and going through all this mess with you, I think you can really prove just how far us Earthlings can go. And hey, I’ll be here to support you every step of the way. Who knows? I might even challenge you at some point, too.”
He ripped the bandage and tied it. Tien was staring at him, his face unreadable and something very hidden behind his eyes. Yamcha looked back down, a slight blush on his face, and continued, “That’s why you gotta take more care of yourself. Training and self-improvement is great but what good will it do if you destroy yourself in the process?”
Tien let out a breath of hot air, “I know. I suppose Chiaotzu must’ve told you about my situation.” The corner of his lip quirked up.
“Just enough to know what was up with you.” Yamcha subconsciously rubbed the pad of his thumb over Tien’s fingers, failing to notice how much he’d affected his friend not only with his words, but also that small, caring touch. Tien moved his hand away and instead placed his knuckle beneath Yamcha’s chin and pushed his head up to view him. The action caused Yamcha’s brain to shut off for a second, his face undeniably a cherry red as the man in front of him gazed down at him with something akin to a blazing yet gentle flame of passion.
“You’re too good to me.” Tien stated, his voice just above a whisper. Yamcha sputtered. Tien leaned down, determined eyes magnetised to Yamcha’s lips. He paused, seemingly waiting for something and Yamcha understood immediately. The raven head nodded once, slow and small, then let his eyelids close.
The first one was a hesitantly soft peck on the corner of Yamcha’s lip, like Tien wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Yamcha felt himself smile and moved his hands to the sides of Tien’s face so he could use his experience to fully guide them together. It was magically, Yamcha supposed, the way they simply locked together like it was natural - like it was meant to be. Even when it became open mouthed and Yamcha could feel Tien twist to better fit them together, the whole thing was so innocent and perfect and just everything Yamcha could’ve hoped for, despite the awkward positions they were in.
They pulled away simultaneously, Tien’s eyes wide, the tips of his ears and even a part of his neck crimson. “I- uhm, that. . . Was that okay?”
Yamcha snorted. “Tien, that was much better than okay,” he grinned at him, “It was perfect.”
A smile graced Tien’s lips. “Good, because I’d like to kiss you again.”