Work Text:
What about yamtiens first kiss? First kiss? How about all the potential first kisses?
At the 22nd Budokai- Angry and passionate, all teeth and hands.
At Kame House, recovering from the storm that escaped an old rice cooker- Yamcha tends to Tien’s wounds, quiet and soft.
Training, its dark and everyone else is sleeping, the morning dew setting in as crickets chirp, Yamcha’s lips are soft and warm, unlike the hard dirt Tien lays upon.
They’re dead, the sky is pink and never sets, their bodies feel heavy as the lay on the soft grass, chests rising and falling in unison, but they have each other- a stolen kiss, while the others turn their eyes, cheeks as pink as the sky above them.
Kame house, the whole world is on their shoulders again- tv static fills the dark room, though others sleep beside them they only see each other. A hand feels for a phantom wound, sadness coats Tien’s lips.
7 years, yet it feels as if no time has passed at all, eyes crinkle, the sun shines- they kiss as if they were 20 years old again, messy and beautiful- all is right with the world, or maybe all’s wrong? They don’t know, they can only see each other.
A quiet mountain farm, though outside is icy cold- warmth permeates every nook and cranny, the aches of middle age forgotten for a moment as strong hands cradle warm cheeks- cheeks sore from smiling, a smile that remains as they kiss. Bliss.