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“You died again….”
Piccolo grumbled as he picked himself off the tiles of the Lookout, ghosting his hand over the hole in his chest that had magically healed. Flesh knit perfectly back together, even as the hole in the fabric remained. It always shocked him, even after all these times, the way it didn’t hurt, the quick jump from waiting in the endless line to receive final judgment back into his body. He always wondered if he’d make it to hell before coming back one of these times.
“You didn’t have ta’ do that Piccolo”
Piccolo rolled his eyes over to Son, squatting on the balls of his feet, far too close to Piccolo. Hovering, clearly waiting for his resurrection. When had he been brought here? How long had his corpse been in the dirt in front of Frieza? When did Goku finally arrive to save the day?
You were gone again.
Piccolo didn’t need to speak, the message rang psychically through Goku’s brain and the Saiyan frowned. Piccolo must be pretty mad to let a thought get through his usually impenetrable psychic wall. Goku bit his lip, mad Piccolo was mean Piccolo, but he was concerned.
Every time they used the Namekian Dragon Balls Goku was reminded how lucky they all were to be able to come back more than once. Still he’d like it if no one had to come back. If everyone tried a little harder to stay alive. If he didn’t have to arrive to the screaming and the blood and seeing Piccolo prone in the dirt, dead or half alive, again and again.
Piccolo looked at the other man scrunch up his face, clearly trying to construct an argument as to why Piccolo should stop flinging himself in front of ki beams. As if it wasn’t to protect Son’s children and friends.
As it wasn’t Son’s fault for not being there to protect them himself.
The other man’s orange gi was striped with dirt and gore and Piccolo desperately wanted to know how the battle had played out, who had dealt the final blow, if Gohan was still alive, if his death had meant anything in the end. Instead he drew his mouth into a straight expressionless line. He wasn’t going to give Goku the satisfaction of questions, not when the first thing he heard was an accusation.
“You knew I was commin’”
Piccolo rolled his eyes back up to the blue expanse of the sky. Goku had been off planet, unreachable despite Bulma’s best efforts. This wasn’t the first time, hell, it wasn’t even the second. For fucks sake, It wasn’t even the first time Frieza had been involved. Gohan had once used an expression about having coins in exchange for experiencing something uncommon. Piccolo would have so many coins by now, not that he had anything to use them on. Maybe he’d throw them at Goku. Hard enough to bruise at least.
“Did I?“
His voice was icy as Piccolo heaved himself to standing, noticing Dende had made themselves absent, it was just the two of them on the tiled edge of the Lookout. Good.
Goku also stood trying to close the gap between them, emotional and physical. Things felt awkward, Goku knew that, he hated when things felt like this with Piccolo, when they fell out of the easy rhythm they normally had.
“Besides I was counting on there being some brat from the future to save us again.”
Goku narrowed his eyes trying to figure out if that was a joke? Or was Piccolo just reminding him that they had been here before? They’d been here too many times. Piccolo didn’t look like he was going to crack a smile and Goku sighed, rubbing his head.
Piccolo moved to the edge of the Lookout with Goku close on his heels. Piccolo still had the power unique to Kami to see down to the earth below, which luckily, didn’t appear to be a smoldering ruin. He also sensed everyone from the fight alive and well at Capsule Corp. So at least no one else was on the docket for resurrection. At least his death wasn’t completely in vain. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Goku touched his back softly and Piccolo bristled.
“It doesn’t always have ta be you, ya know”
It was the same argument every time.
Dende had been right to make themselves scarce, Piccolo thought as he turned snarling toward Son who didn’t even have the good sense to look scared, just sad.
Piccolo hissed and stepped away from the comforting touch. How could Son say that to him?
Piccolo at least knew the hand he’d been dealt in battle. It wasn’t like Son wasn’t aware that Piccolo’s life and body had somehow become a bargaining chip to buy some more time, until someone else could save the day
.
That’s all he could do now. There was no illusion of winning the battle, only making sure it lasted long enough for his loss of life or limb to count. A delay tactic.
So Goku could heal in a sensory deprivation tank,, or come back from space, or the dead, or unlock some new rainbow coloured bullshit.
“Who should I let die in my place then?”
Goku shook his spiky head, frowning.
“Piccolo, you know that’s not what I mean!”
Those stupid sad brown eyes, boring into him, making him almost regret what he did. So what if Son had to come back to his corpse? So what if that made him sad? Piccolo refused to watch anyone die in front of him, not ever again.
“Pick one of your children then Son, both of them were close today. Gohan had already gone down once.”
Piccolo’s breath hitched, stupid brain, replaying the scene, Gohan shot through, the sound of his heart stopping.
Goku felt Piccolo’s psychic energy shift, anger to anguish. Goku knew that when he had got there Gohan had been close to death. He felt the energy of Piccolo’s sadness at witnessing it flow over and around him.
“I won't watch that happen again!” Piccolo thundered, anger coming in waves off of him, fists clenched.
Goku paused, trying to take in both the words and the feelings. Both stirring up something in his gut. He remembered Piccolo threatening to jump in with Cell, just to stop Gohan from getting hurt. Piccolo would have been killed instantly to spare his son that moment of pain. Goku’s stomach twisted, he hadn’t liked seeing his son hurting, but he knew it would be worth it in the pursuit of power.
In the pursuit of a win.
He realized that maybe he had hoped going up against a powered up Frieza may have awakened something again in his son. Something strong enough that Goku wouldn’t need to come at all. And once Gohan had unlocked that he had expected him to be thrilled. Pain forgotten.
Just like it was supposed to happen when he’d been a kid.
He hadn’t been right to think that then. Piccolo had been right, with Cell, with Frieza. Pain wasn’t how to unlock Gohan’s abilities. Gohan would have died if Piccolo hadn’t jumped in this time. The power boost was never going to happen that way. Gohan would have died many times if Piccolo hadn’t jumped in.
“You’re right.” Goku sighed, sitting down heavily.
Piccolo’s ears twitched. He kept his arms tightly crossed still. Goku could read his body language from a mile away. Not ready to forgive, certainly not ready to forget, but close. Piccolo hadn’t even brought out the eye lasers so he still had a chance here. A chance to make things better.
Goku smiled up at him, “Ya know, Gohan’s power up after you died got me to earth. He gave everythin’ he had so I could use instant transmission to get there in time.”
A peace offering.
Piccolo smiled and uncrossed his arms. “Good, I’m proud of him, even after all of this, he gave it his all.” Piccolo paused once again looking stern. “though don’t tell him that. I want to see him sweat a bit when I come back.”
Piccolo huffed as he sat beside Son. Goku took the opportunity to move closer to Piccolo leaning against his side, when Piccolo didn’t push him off right away. He leaned closer, taking in the Namekians scent. It had been a while since Piccolo had let him this close.
“As long as you don’t tell Chi Chi that Goten showed up.”
Goku felt the rumble of Piccolo’s chest as he suppressed a laugh.
“No promises, I may need that in my back pocket next time she’s mad at me.”
Goku groaned. “Please don’t she’s already mad I didn’t remember to rotate the crops.”
Piccolo leaned back into him, and Goku once again noted how cool his body was, unlike the heat that always radiated off him and the other Saiyans.
“I did have one more question though.” Goku felt Piccolo stiffen next to him.
“What’s with Gohan’s outfit? Did he lose his gi?”
This time the laugh wasn’t suppressed and Goku smiled into the deep rumble of Piccolo’s laugh.
“It seems to have inherited your fashion sense, despite my best efforts.”
Goku pretended to pout for a moment before leaning back into the bigger man. He felt an arm drape over him and draw him in closer as Piccolo’s laugh petered out echoing across the lookout and into the clouds. They looked over the world in silence. Goku drew Piccolo’s cape around him. He didn’t mention Gohan’s taste in Superhero costumes that he may have gotten from someone on the Lookout. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. Goku was glad Dende had disappeared into the palace, Piccolo would never let him get this close with a living witness.
They stayed silent for a moment before Goku looked up at Piccolo’s face. Unlike the rest of the world Piccolo’s face had stayed the same over the years, no extra wrinkles or lines, an anchor in a world that changed too fast every time he left.
Piccolo could feel Goku squirming against him, warm and vibrant. Full of static energy. Something is still on his mind even after all of this. Goku reached up and softly touched his face and Piccolo turned towards it, closing his eyes.
“Just say it Son.”
Goku teased at his lip while still looking up at Piccolo.
“You could come with us to Beerus' planet and train with us, he’d definitely train you, there’s somethin’ strong in there we can all feel it.”
Goku didn’t say it could be like before. He didn’t need to since it hung in the air between them.
They could go off together and wrap their whole world up in training, in the pursuit of power. Piccolo swallowed as Goku still looked up at him. Piccolo could feel it too, he knew it was under his skin, something strong and new and powerful, it would take a few years, maybe a decade of throwing himself into nothing but the harshest training and combat could let it out.
They could go off together.
Throw everything else away for strength, for the next rush, the next life threatening battle. Training had been his life, the pursuit of power at the cost of everything. Even after he’d killed Goku he’d kept at it since it was the only way he knew how to live his life. The life of a warrior, of a tyrant, was all he could strive towards back then. He’d tried to make it Gohan’s whole life as well. How had he failed so spectacularly?
Piccolo pulled Goku in closer as he mused. He felt the familiar weight of him, the smell of dirt and sweat and blood. Such human qualities. Except they weren’t human. They were both so alien, even now after all this time, alien to one another.
Piccolo suspected that the Saiyans felt time differently than humans did, definitely different than Namekians did. Not that he could ask Son, explaining abstract concepts like time or perception were not his strong suit. He probably would ask to eat chronology if Piccolo asked him about it.
But the Saiyans were definitely out of sync with human time, the way they all seemed to stay the same for so long and then changed so quickly. Growing several feet in months after years of being the same height. Explosive bursts of power after almost dying. Decades spent in their fighting prime.
Namekians were supposed to stay the same for eons, growing old slowly as they farmed trees that grew inches in centuries.
Piccolo was the exception. He was always the exception.
He had finally found a place he wanted to stay for those centuries, only to find out the people he had chosen to spend them with would barely last through one. Far fewer if he didn’t get between them and a stray energy beam.
Even the one next to him.
If he did go. If he took Goku’s hand again. He’d miss Pan’s first words, and Goten finishing grade school. He’d miss helping Chi Chi get the barrels of rice she needed to feed her family. He’d miss the opening of Videl’s martial arts school.
He’d miss so many of the too short years the people of Earth kept speeding through. He may miss the next world ending threat. Someone else's body would have to be on the line to save his friends while they tried to delay a world ending threat long enough for him to arrive.
It couldn’t be his whole life anymore.
He could get hurt. He could heal. He could come back to life.
But he couldn’t leave for that long.
“You know I won’t”
Piccolo tried to meet Son’s eyes. His face felt flush, surly Son could feel it under his palm, so much warmer than Piccolo had ever been.
Goku smiled at him, eyes soft and warm, if there was disappointment his face didn’t betray it. He stroked the side of Piccolo’s face with his thumb.
“I know.”
Goku hugged his free arm around Piccolo’s waist. “And you know I’ll always show up, and wish ya back.”
Piccolo snorted, a challenge. “You think you can always save the day?”
Goku smiled back at him, eyes narrowed, accepting the challenge, a promise.
“So far so good.”
Piccolo twitched and they both detached as they stood. Goku was glad he’d got Piccolo back into his normal sort of grumpy mood, Piccolo usually argued longer when Goku pointed out he didn’t always need to sacrifice himself, even though he knew Piccolo would never change, that neither of them would really change.
Piccolo would stay, Goku would go, and they’d find their way back together. An endless dance they had both found their places in.
Goku slipped his fingers into the larger hand threading them through. Five fingers in four. Quick and practiced. He could feel the other man’s pulse in his palm. Strong and steady, and alive.
“You know the worst part.” Piccolo grumbled
Goku looked up from their hands, trying to hide his concern.
“About dying?”
“No, about Frieza, I don’t think he even remembered who I was.”
Goku frowned. What? Well that’s rude ya kicked his head in back on Namek!”
Piccolo sighed, “That’s what I thought as well, he called out Krillin AND Gohan specifically as being there on Namek, but not me.”
“If I hadn’t just killed him, I’d kill him again just for that.”
Piccolo smirked, “Who knows next time maybe I’m saving the day.”
“That’s what Vegeta thought this time too.”
Piccolo looked down at Goku eyebridges raised, “Okay that I do need to hear.”
Goku turned toward the edge of the platform leading Piccolo, “I’ll tell ya everythin’, but the others are waitin’ for us. Bulma promised a barbeque and Beerus and Whis probably won’t wait much longer.”
Piccolo allowed himself to be led. Feeling the rough hand and hot skin in his cool grip. How he had managed not to be able to stay mad at Son these days was beyond him. Annoyed, but never mad.
“Fine I’ll come, but I’m grilling.” Piccolo leapt off the edge still holding Son’s hand.
Purple and orange streaked through the sky, flying perfectly in sync.