Grape Soda and Magnets

One Through 25

All pretty much separate storylines, although some have a common thread. Over a hundred written and planned, here are the first twenty-five so no one is overwhelmed with a two hundred fic.

Rated light R in some parts.

It's not easy having yourself a good time
Greasing up those bets and betters
Watching out they don't four-letter
Fuck and kiss you both at the same time
Smells-like something I've forgotten
Curled up died and now it's rotten

I'm not a gangster tonight
Don't want to be a bad guy
I'm just a loner baby
And now you're gotten in my way

I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride

It's a bitch convincing people to like you
If I stop now call me a quitter
If lies were cats you'd be a litter
Pleasing everyone isn't like you
Dancing jigs until I'm crippled
Slug ten drinks I won't get pickled

I've got to hand it to you
You've played by all the same rules
It takes the truth to fool me
And now you've made me angry

I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride

Oh I could throw you in the lake
Or feed you poisoned birthday cake
I wont deny I'm gonna miss you when you're gone
Oh I could bury you alive
But you might crawl out with a knife
And kill me when I'm sleeping
That's why

I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride

I Can't Decide, Scissor Sisters

I never wanted to kill, I am not naturally evil

Such things I do to make myself more attracted to you,

Have I failed?

The Last Of the International Playboys, The Smiths

1. How to Impress a Woman

Yamcha's voice was wise. "What you need to do is impress her." He pointed a finger straight at Krillin's face.

"How? I," Krillin looked at his hands. "I mean, I fought against Cell for her, saved her life, used a wish from a magical dragon to help her…"

The index finger dropped. "I have no idea."

Now the shorter man wanted to raise his own finger at the bandit, but it definitely would not be the same one that Yamcha used.

Juuhachigou was a woman who did not seem to be at all impressed by much. Anything. Crazed ideas of setting an apartment on fire, and carrying out a family while she watched occurred to him, saving a bus full of children, stopping a bank robbery, throwing himself into a puddle of mud so she could walk over his back to step onto clean pavement, lighting himself on fire came to him.

Although he was willing to bet that she might be somewhat taken aback by setting himself ablaze, the burns would probably make any date not at the hospital rather uncomfortable.

He saw himself doing all those things, and her impassive face, the rolling eyes when he looked to her for some reaction.

There was nothing he could do to impress her.

Anything he could do, she would find boring, or pathetic, or could do it much better than him. The only thing he had on her was all negatives: he was shorter, weaker, whinier…The very fact that he was trying to impress her would probably not look good to her.

If she found out, Juuhachigou would flip her hair away from her face and sneer. "Why; you know you don't have a chance with me shrimp. And nice haircut. Is that supposed to make me like you more?"

"I just want you to like me at all!" Then him crying at her feet, spilling his guts and telling her things she already knew. "My best friend died because I didn't use that controller on you!"

"I threw myself at Cell to try and give you a chance to escape, and then I tried to fight him after I thought he killed you!"

"I picked you up, even when you were covered in slime after he spat you out!"

"You were technically vomit, and you were still the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on!"

"I think I'm in love with you!"

"Why did you kiss me, whyyyyyy?"

"Can't we be friends, at least?"

He needed a good cry. Nearly as much as he needed a girlfriend.

But now, sitting here as another hour passed, on his porch as the sun set and Yamcha flew away, he understood that he truly did not have a chance at making her even smile. There would be no date, no chance at romance, not so much as a smile from her, and vague dream of having a relationship with her, something long-term would never happen in a thousand years.

He would almost certainly never see her again.

2. No one has to know

There was little in his life, even when he included the giant monkeys and intersexed lizardmen and monster made of his and his friend's cells, that was more disorienting than one minute holding the woman he loved more than life itself, and then holding literally air. She was not only quick; her senses could pick up on a possible witness within seconds, and then she could shove herself into a clever, uncomfortable hiding spot. All while possibly gathering or zipping up her clothing. Somehow, it only added to her charm.

At best, he would fall forward and hit something and simply look clumsy.

At worst, he would just be standing or sitting there, arms around nothing, or worse, cupping around nothing, face in a ridiculous expression, and he would look deranged. Not even the destitute who walked around in West City, dressed in aluminum foil and spoke of the upcoming doomsday would have wanted to talk to him if they saw him at that moment. They would walk around him, mumbling to themselves about how bad the city was, and how they would be glad when the apocalypse came.

It was only compounded by the fact that whenever she disappeared, someone would walk into the room and find him that way.

"Jeez, Krillin," Yamcha looked at him, torn between disgust and sadness. "Stop practicing kissing with the pillow. I'll hook you up with that cute shopkeeper who was flirting with you, just stop that."

And then he would see a pair of amazing baby blue eyes peering at him from behind Yamcha's back, from the closet, hateful and assuring that as soon as his friend left, they were going to have a little talk.

"Alright, Yamcha, let's go right now. Come on, let's hurry up and get out of here!"

Or Bulma finding him in a loving embrace with a bush in the gardens. "You know," she toyed with her recently trimmed hair. "Maybe it's time you moved out of Roshi's house."

The look on Chi-Chi's face when she found him, instead of helping with the laundry, entangled in a sheet and still having Juuhachigou's name on his lips. "I think I can take it from here, Krillin." Carefully plucking the now stained sheet from his hands, and telling him that maybe, maybe it wasn't so great that he spent so much time with Gohan.

Master Roshi, seeing him stretched out on his bed, alone and his red face, hadn't said anything. But later, when Krillin opened the door to go down to dinner, he found a stack of dirty magazines outside his door.

Oolong now knocked on the walls or door before he entered a room, after having found him curled on the floor, holding his ears after Juuhachigou had hissed what she planned to do to him and that cute shopkeeper.

But, despite how loony his friends must have thought him, it was worth it to make sure Juuhachigou was comfortable in their relationship.

3. Sweet tooth

She had the most amazing blush on her face, the pink of the sky during a sunrise. "I can't cook. So I bought them."

He didn't have the chance to duck or run away as she shoved the chocolates into his face. So, instead, Krillin took the box with numb hands. The tide was coming in, and he jumped a little at the cold water hitting his feet. Juuhachigou however remained unmoved, perhaps because she was wearing boots and he was barefoot. Those boots were the last thing he saw as she flew away without another word.

"You know what this means, right Krillin?"

The short fighter rubbed a tear from beneath his eye. "Yes," if he could have sniffled, he would have. "It means she likes me."

"It means you have to give her something back. Something expensive." The shape-shifting pig raised a pink brow. "Something sentimental. And sexy." And Krillin learned something else that was new, someone with a snout should never say the word 'sexy.'

The chocolate's wrapping was growing slippery in his sweaty palms. He looked at them, wondering how much they meant exactly. Literally. In dollar and sentimental value. "…What are you saying?"

Oolong gave him a look. "You have to buy her lingerie, you know that right?"

4. All's fair in love and war

She looked up from her drink. Her hackles did not exactly raise, but were beginning to twitch. Juunanagou was looking at her, his mouth beginning to widen into a smile.

"What do you know, someone actually has a thing for shiny heads."

"He's growing his hair out," Juuhachigou growled, wishing he wasn't there. If he wasn't, well, she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Not that wanted to do anything.

…Well, alright, she did, but it was just because it was annoying to hear a bunch of stupid, empty-headed girls lose their head over some muscles. Pathetic. Krillin wasn't even as big his friend. He was slimmer as well as shorter, and much less ridiculously bulging than his other companions. They had no right to giggle over him.

Juunanagou was making another joke. It was remarkably easy to ignore him. Her twin was white noise to the sight of one of those ridiculous women with the most hideous makeup Juuhachigou had ever seen, grabbing one of Krillin's arms and squeezing. She giggled, and…despite what she might have thought, Juuhachigou did not see red. Instead, everything was vividly bright, clear, and her sensors told her that her heartbeat had lowered dramatically.

When she wandered over, a good-natured expression on her face, Krillin's hand spasmed around a squirt bottle of ketchup and a splat of it nearly hit his friend in the face.

They couldn't even stammer out the words "What are you doing here?"

Only those who knew what she was capable of would have been afraid. The other two girls looked perfectly content, while the men's faces went pale. Yamcha's swallow could be heard all the way to the next table over, and in it she could hear him being told about swinging one Saiyan into another. In Krillin's dark eyes, she saw Vegeta clutching a shattered arm, and shrieking.

She batted her eyelashes at the short man.

Neatly, she sat down next to Krillin and smiled. She rested an elbow on the table, then her head against her the palm of her hand. Her smile was sweet, and she knew that the light above hit her just the right way to emphasize her blonde hair. "Hi."

"Hi!" The other girls giggled back.

Juuhachigou motioned to the bartender to bring her whatever they were having; ignoring her brother's scandalized face. The expression that quickly began to turn confused, then scared, then terrified. When he fled, it was through the backdoor to completely avoid her. Juuhachigou was grateful he did not come over and literally drag her away.

Really, sure, she had beaten up his group of pathetic vigilantes and threatened several times to kill his best friend, but that didn't mean he had to be scared of her so much. When she ran the straw of her drink against her lower lip, teasing, she didn't want Krillin to flinch and scoot away from her. There really was no reason to squeak like that, and reach out for support from his equally terrified friend when she playfully squeezed one thigh and asked if he worked out.

She ran her hand firmly, confidently, up his leg and whispered sultrily just for him, "So, do you, work out?" His French fries went flying with that little move. Unfair, really.

Still, as the toyed with the umbrella of her drink, and plucked the cherry out to feed it to a sweating Krillin who swallowed, terrified, it was all worth it. For all her lost dignity, the lost expression on his face made her happy.

The girl hadn't touched him again. And look, from the help of the other thoughtful woman, the bartender was bringing over salt, limes, and tequila to do shots with. And she knew exactly whose neck she wanted to apply the salt to lick off.

5. An invasion of privacy

She was painfully aware that if she was found now, there would be no saving of face. She had to get in and out, and hope for the best. The door knob was sweaty in her grip. When she turned it, the sound echoed through the entire house. Thankfully, Krillin's singing in the shower went uninterrupted.

It wasn't her fault. When you did laundry in this house, as a woman, you did it quickly and hoped that you walked away with all your underwear. Juuhachigou had only pulled what she thought were only her clothes out of the dryer, and stomped away.

Only later, as she did her best to unfold the creases and do makeshift ironing with her hand, did she realize that this dark blue shirt was not hers.

Or this lime green t-shirt.

Or this pair of white boxer shorts.

The sight of which made her freeze, and stare up at her doorway, as though Krillin was standing there, asking if she'd seen some of his clothes. When he briefly passed by, carrying a towel and clean clothes, the blonde android tossed the garments hurriedly deep into the pile of the rest. Krillin didn't even give her a look. His whistling and pleasant mood made her feel like she was slipping right past the guards, smoking a cigar and baring a smile.

Her upper lip was sweaty.

What is wrong with you?

You're acting like that damn pig downstairs.

Which immediately made her bound to her feet and peek her head into the hallway. Empty, and she raced to find the rest of his clothes. Her sad attempt at stopping creases was foiled utterly as she threw the entire pile to the floor. As the categorized everything, damning herself for not taking more time to sort through her clothes in the first place, damning the pig, Juuhachigou wiped at her forehead. She was fairly sure that she'd gotten everything.

Just the two shirts and that other item. Carefully, aware she was being a child, but unable to rid herself of the blush, she sandwiched the boxers between the t-shirts and scooped the clothes up. She listened to his off-pitch nasally drone as she finally turned the doorknob and crept to his room.

It was one of the few rooms she'd never seen. Of course, she had never stepped foot into Oolong's or the old man's, and hopefully never would. But she had never been curious about what was in there. Juuhachigou had never wondered about what was hanging on the walls, or places on the shelves and whether or not the bed was made.

The sheets were the exact shade of white she'd expected. The shelves were full of books. The walls the same yellow as the rest of the upstairs. The pictures simple, a few pieces of stuff she thought might have something to do with something Zen, a holdover from his days as a monk as a child. Then there was a poster of a fancy red car that didn't fit at all with her previous image of the room. The dresser was plain and as white as the walls, the top littered with framed photos of him and his friends relaxed and laughing or caught at an embarrassing moment.

Not a speck of dust to be found.

Krillin's happy grin caught her eye, and she looked at the photo of him as a young teenager, arm around his best friend's shoulder. Both of them were nearly the same size, and she wondered what exactly had gone wrong with Goku's pituitary gland.

Juuhachigou smiled back at the snapshot.

This wasn't so bad. Not intimidating at all. Just Krillin's room. The place where he hung his ridiculous hats, the room he slept in every night, right there, there in that small bed with its neatly tucked sheets, and did Kami only knew what he did here. He could do whatever in here, whatever popped into his round head. There was his pillow, and she looked at it for a long time.

She could see him lying down, like a boy tired from his play, slowly closing his eyes and the dark hair spreading out like ink across its flat surface. Just there, being there and taking up room in existence. Him sleeping, lips pulled slightly into a pink pout, fist held close to his face.

Her breathe came short and quick. She'd been here in this sad pink house, living here to punish Juunanagou for leaving her, completely abandoning her at the mall, and since the moment that she'd been consciously aware of a place labeled neatly 'Krillin's Room' existing, she'd…okay, sometimes, had thought of this place. In general really. 'I wonder if Krillin's in his room.' Nothing, she was sure. Her grin was guilty and her stomach twisted.

What is wrong with you?

The clothes. Juuhachigou remembered the buddle in her hands, and strolled over to the small neat dresser. Even its nails peaking out through the wood had a shine to them. She had a brief image of Krillin, on bended knee, with a rag, shining them up to a brassy sheen.

That absurd smile came back.

Everything was so neatly arranged inside, she was wary of putting anything in. He probably was well aware of how things went as only a neat freak could be. But if he asked, she could shrug and say she had no idea what he was talking about. Flick back her hair and roll her eyes. "Do you think I came into your room to, what, borrow your clothes?" A disdainful look at whatever he was currently wearing. He would stutter and blush and apologize, never knowing how she'd pulled the knobs so gently on his dresser to never make a sound.

Everything in here smelled like him, and his own unique odor of sweat and clean laundry and the bright blue bar of soap in the bathroom that every time she was in there, she would have to look at closely for a second. For what, she wasn't sure. But there was something in its electric shade that drew her eye. She herself stuck with shower gel, since using a bar of soap seemed to be asking for trouble in this house.

He indeed had everything arranged just so. The shirts went here, unless they were polo's, then they went there. It was easy to slide the two garments into a place in the back. Of course, then she was left holding a white pair of his undershorts with one hand while the other slid open the top drawer. Juuhachigou had time exactly to wonder why his underwear was arranged into color, when the door opened, revealing a still damp Krillin.

He looked at her for a long time, not missing the boxer in her hand anymore than he could have overlooked someone missing a head. She felt as frozen as when Cell had been coming after her. Krillin sighed. "You've been spending too much time with Oolong."

6. Just because you can do it doesn't mean you should.

Whenever a squirrel was capable of causing you to freak out, there was a problem. He couldn't smile, even as his mind tried to distract himself by playing a theme to a spy movie.

They hadn't seen him.

In his sweaty, trembling hands, he held the controller. It was grey, and so small, so nothing for what it could do. His shoulders were hunched, held down by something even heavier than the turtle shell he'd worn as a boy.

Not quite in the center, its button was the shade of old blood.

He could see her, taking in everything about her, from the part in her hair to the color of her black, schoolgirl shoes, and even as he coldly tried to plan his next move, how he would blast her after shutting her down, and then run from the larger, hurt android, even as other images swirled and over and over again she bent down with a cruelly sweet expression on her pale face. Her teasing words.

He wished that she hadn't been here, that someone else was here instead of him, that someone had seen him, that he knew what to do, that…

But he did know what he had to do. There was really only one choice.

"Good luck."

7. Terms & conditions

From his friends, he had learned a lot. Aside from practical stuff like learning how to cook from Lunch, how to fix the TV from Master Roshi as well as how to throw a punch, how to dodge from Bulma, how to tune out someone from Chi-Chi, they had also taught him about relationships.

They had rules.

Just as Goku would never insult Chi-Chi's cooking, even when she made that blood pudding that one time. And in turn, she would…well, she never really completely forbid him from fighting in an emergency.

Even the most dysfunctional couple had guidelines, although they seemed to bend and twist depending on the day and what was being served for dinner. But on pot roast Tuesdays, Vegeta would no more insult Bulma's haircut than she would say something about his own hairstyle. Only after the plates were cleaned of food could they could begin screaming at each other and throwing pitchers of juice.

With Juuhachigou, you could never truly tell. Once he'd asked why she liked stripes so much, had she spent some time in prison or at least juvenile hall during her wild past, and she punched him in the arm hard enough to sprain it. Then he might say something about her brother being a weirdo in that blue coat, and she would laugh and agree. But if he said something about Juunanagou's socks, it was hell at the Kame house.

Eventually, when she came down to breakfast, Krillin sat at the table waiting for her. Instead of having a plate of toast or eggs and always, a mug of coffee to greet her, a pen was shoved into her face.

"Sign here."

"For what?"

"To agree that on Wednesdays, I get to say whatever I want about your brother."

For a second, she pulled a confused face, but the bullshit was quickly thrown out the window when she realized all of what she wanted. "Fine. And on Monday through Thursdays I get to insult Master Roshi all I want."

"Fair enough."

"And on the weekends—"

"You're free to hurt the perverts for whatever discretions they do to you."

"Thank you." They bowed to each other across the table.

"We see my friends on Saturday."

"Damnit." Then she perked up. "But this means we can visit my brother on Sunday, right?"

"Damnit." Krillin nodded his head slowly and wrote his initials on one form.


Gradually, the rest of the household gathered to watch.

"I'm surprised." Oolong looked over the list. "There's no mention of sex. Or any real sexual acts. Unless you count on the laundry being one. Which I do, by the way."

Juuhachigou leaned forward and took the pen from his smaller hand. "Remind me to always make sure to do my own laundry."

"Too bad it's Friday, huh?"

She smiled. "Just one more day."

"But, about the sex, you guys…"

Krillin predictably turned red. But the blonde cyborg shrugged. "I don't think we need any agreement about stuff like that. We're both pretty opened minded about our schedule."

8. Rearrange

The first thing that told the rest of the household that Juuhachigou was there to stay, aside from the blissful expression on Krillin's face, was the new table that arrived one day. No one saw as it was brought in, or assembled; only that they all barked their shins on the new piece of furniture.

They did not eat there the morning it arrived.

Instead they sat at their old, faithful, familiar table loyally, and gave suspicious stares to the plain wooden table, and wondered if perhaps, it had been there all along, and they had just missed it until now.

It was only after Juuhachigou came downstairs with a sweep of pale yellow and blue jeans, Krillin stumbling after her with a drowsy smile, and sat at the new table did the others understand. Her fingers trailed along the wood grain fondly, then she glared at the other people who did live there as well, and perhaps technically owned the right to the house.

"You will not ruin this."

She didn't need to say another word. The blocky, ugly table told them that she was there to stay. And since it was hers, guaranteed that they would always use a coaster if they sat there.

9. I have style: you don't.

He had the nerve to argue. "Juuhachigou, I don't know…"

"You really think you know more about what you should wear than me?"

Krillin paused at the doorway of the dressing room. "Alright, you have a point."

"But really, honey, a sweater vest?"

10. Pitch Black

"I thought," Krillin said slowly, "that you could see in the dark?"



"My eyes don't work like that. Just because you're alarm clock glows—"

"Fine. I guess we'll just sit here in the dark, and wait until someone fixes this."

"Well, I don't know how. Why do you always assume I can fix everything?"

"Because…you're so good at everything?"

"It's because of the cyborg thing, isn't it?"


"…well, yeah. But, really, why wouldn't you know how to fix the power, but know that your brother can have his memory erased by a day when you rub a magnet against the side of his head."

"Speaking of which…"

"OW! Not the head! My hair, Juu, my hair!

"…you could see this entire time, couldn't you?"

11. First Kiss

It was not technically their first kiss. That had happened under very different circumstances.

The last time, they'd been standing on even ground. It had only lasted a second, and she'd kissed him solely on the cheek.

Now though, he was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, trying to put the groceries away when she'd accosted him. Which, while hurting her back less, also made the position odd since if she moved up she would hit her head on the shelves stacked above, but Krillin was now the taller one, and they could just barely meet somewhere in the middle.

Another thing was that someone could come in any second now and see them, and now she was capable of being embarrassed, since it wasn't like she could just kill them for walking in on them. And for another difference, she was wearing better clothes. And she was also not mocking him. This was purely serious, even as she tore the box of cereal from his hands before silencing his alarmed cry.

Neither knew where to put their hands which definitely hadn't been a concern the first time. Although, perhaps Krillin had wondered if she would punch him in the chest. They settled for putting them on each others' shoulders and trying not to be conscious of the height of his hands.

There was no awkward worry if she would murder him, and whether or not he would faint and crack his head on the pavement. Here, the soft wooden floorboards would catch him.

No, this wasn't exactly their first kiss. This was better.

12. Imaginary Conversation

Mentally, verbally, physically, imaginarily, she swung a first at Krillin. He bounced right back like one of those ridiculous stress relief clown toys. They wore a similar smile.

"I do not!"

A left jab. "You don't even have a nose."

"You like my face, regardless. You think I'm cute."

A right fist to the stomach. "You're bald!"

"Don't you like how the light reflects off my head?"

"You're weak! Pathetic."

"Then you get to be the strong one."

"You look like a sad little puppy!"

His head was cocked in a way that even she, in the darkest part of her mind, could not deny was adorable. "Is that an argument for or against?"

"I do not like you."

"Then why do you keep thinking about me."

13. Stalking

This was not inappropriate. It only counted as stalking when someone found out about it, and used that word. It was whatever it was until someone used a fancy title like, 'harassment', or 'stalking' or 'boundary issues' or 'I'm calling my friends to scare you off before you hurt me.' Until then, Juuhachigou was free to swim in the gray zone all she wanted.

She was simply biding her time. It wasn't as though she was going to kill him. The blonde woman was just waiting, hiding behind this brick wall or this box of oranges or behind this cutout of this jackass man who kept sprouting phrases like "I beat Cell!" "Buy my video game! Buy my video game!" Eventually, she would find the right words and go over to him. They would come to her, the perfect phrases, and she would tell them to her, and he would smile.

And understand.

Until then, she would put on this baseball cap, these oversized glasses, and hope that Krillin didn't turn around as she followed him through the stores, streets, and his home.

14. My fancy way of saying hello

His friend, Yamcha, despite his questionable taste in clothes and girls, knew about all the clubs in the newly named Satan City. The scarred taller man had been or heard about all of them from a date or friend of a friend, and was always good at slipping the bouncer a fifty and making sure he and his short buddy got in. At first, Krillin had been reluctant, always shy around crowds; he wasn't so sure about this 'scene.' Then, after a few beers that Yamcha fostered onto him, he decided it wasn't so bad after all.

After a few more trips and widening his taste in alcohol to things much stronger than beer, Krillin could even bring himself to look up from his shoes and at the faces of the people there. There were lots of girls there, he saw with new eyes.

He found himself pathetically going after blonde girls, ones who never exactly could fit the bill, hoping with everyone that they, if not Juuhachigou herself, they could help fill that void. Thankfully, or not, the ones that showed interest he could never bring himself to go further than drink, dancing, and occasionally clumsily making out with.

It was all okay. He could shut off the voices in his head and the pictures and movies that played endlessly when he was in these dark places with the music like a heartbeat, until one night Yamcha disappeared with a girl and without him, he kind of...overdid it a little.

Krillin would have thought that the more you drank, the less it affected you over time. But then, there he was lying in bed, no memory of last night and aware that in books, they would have called this 'blackout drunk.' And that maybe, maybe, he 'had a problem' and was 'depressed.'

Krillin wasn't so sure about all that. In theory, yes. But right now, he was aware that he had a hangover and that was enough to swallow everything else, including the rest of his life. A relief.

What he needed now was not someone to talk to, but someone to hand him the Advil, and thank Kami, Dende, for that.

Someone pulled the sheets up and away from his side of the bed.

It is an amazing concept that sweeps the headache right out, this idea that he had a side to his bed, a half, an assigned, designated place, as opposed to the entire thing.

Well. Apparently he'd talked someone into coming home with him. They must have had more to drink than him.

When his jaw closed, it did so with a click sound. He stared up at the low ceiling, now cold in just his underwear, afraid of what would happen if his gaze shifted to the right. Who would have agreed to come home with him? He mostly paid attention to blondes, the more frigid and distant the better. There was no chance to get close to them for anything other than a dance and a kiss.

No matter how he tried to shake his mind and have a clear picture of what happened last night, it just wasn't coming. He had been at a bar obviously, sitting at a barstool and wondering something about the bartender, why he wore his shirt so tight, wasn't it harder to move like that, and then it was blackness.

He moved his gaze to the right.

She was wearing a pair of black female briefs that were much too small and revealed just short of everything. Her leg was drawn up, as though she was stretching, and one arm was pulled up to her chest like a shy child, hiding some of her bare chest. The small hand balled into a fist, and he remembered with clarity of how she drove it into Vegeta's hapless body. In the thickening morning light, her skin was cream. The pale hair that drove him insane was gold, and so luckily, the blue eyes that drove him even madder were closed.

It was nearly noon, Krillin realized, and was so grateful that he was the only one to wake up before two in the afternoon around here he nearly swooned.

At least no one would come in here and find them.

An insane thought occurred to him, so crazed and desperate that it would work. It had to, because there was no other option. This would succeed, because otherwise he would die a terrible, bloody death when those exquisite blue eyes with the startlingly dark eyelashes snapped open. Or worse: she would not murder him, and he would have to live with whatever happened last night. Such a fate he couldn't even properly imagine.

So, he got up, casually. Crawled from his place in the bed to the ground, careful not to touch her, fear giving grace to his movements. No need to hurry. Running and flailing would only awake the dragon. He had to creep past her inch by inch to get to the pile of gold that consisted of the clothes he'd worn last night. They, wrinkled and he was certain they smelled of booze and cigarettes and all, were amazing against his cold goose pimpled skinned chest. He clutched them, and felt like weeping.

He would flee into the noon light, and never return. Krillin did not know where he would go, perhaps to Gohan's to hide under his bed, but he knew he could never come back to this pink house. She knew this place far too well.

Just as he'd pull his pants on, gorgeous lovely pants that he would never remove again, he heard a voice. It was groggy and not completely unhappy. "Where are you going?"

Juuhachigou was resting her chin on the palm of her hand and looking at him. Her eyes were half-lidded and her hair was mussed and the pose was too enchanting for him to pull on his shirt. Obviously, she hadn't been drunk last night. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Where are you going?"

There is no real answer, so he doesn't say anything. Juuhachigou slowly rested her head back onto the pillow, still gazing at him expectantly.

He would never fit under Gohan's bed, even if he managed to make it there. So Krillin just lowered his pants and crept back into the bed. It was warmer with her in it.

Then she was leaning against his shoulder, falling back asleep like a large pale cat, and so didn't hear Krillin's whisper of "Good morning."

And, "What happened last night?"

And, "Where did you go this whole time?"

And, "Did we really have sex?"

15. Unintentional Sexual Harassment

Although he'd been on the island since he'd been a teenager, Krillin believe he had picked up few of his Master's bad habits. You would never discover a pile of dirty magazines lying about in his room, or any underwear, or ridiculous wigs. He did not spend his days and nights before a dirty movie or show, and thought that, considering, he was pretty well adjusted. The worst you could say was that he knew all the names of the types of magazines they hid behind the counters at the gas stations.

That was why, when he reached out to grab her cup and take it into the kitchen to put in the sink, he was just as amazed as her when his hand overreached itself.

If only he'd knocked the cup to the ground to shatter.

But no, the mug was fine. And his hand was resting, cupping gently her breast. It was the left one. More amazingly, his entire arm was numb, from the base of his shoulder to his fingers. There was a certain humor and unfairness in the fact that he was touching her so intimately that he couldn't even feel it.

The arm was preparing itself, Krillin realized, for when she ripped it out of the socket.

They looked at each other. Her face was frozen into a look of shock and disbelief. She didn't say anything, but gradually he managed out, "I swear, I never meant to do this."

Then Piccolo chose that exact amazing moment to walk through the screen door, literally bursting from it like an alien through an ironically named man's chest, screaming that Chi-Chi was having a baby and Krillin had to help him now. Through his panic, he could still see exactly where the ex-monk's hand was on the woman he had once tried to kill, and whose brother he'd fought with twice. Somehow, despite his anxiety and disgust at finding them like that, Krillin and Juuhachigou couldn't move.

"I'm not," the Namek growled. "Going to help you birth your offspring as well.

"You're on your own with that."

16. You are answerable for your fantasies

Juuhachigou had not known that she could get sick. She should have, after living in that half-finished house that Juunanagou swore he would one day put a roof on. Although he never got around to it, even when it rained and the temperature dropped to freezing. "I'll get to it later," he assured her, as she shoved aside a pile of snow and they both jumped when a deer stuck its head through a hall in the wall.

Sometimes, birds would make nests in their shelves and cupboards, and she would miss Juurokugou. Bears lumbered past her room on a daily basis, and it was not unlikely to find one of them in the kitchen eating their food, getting ready for their hibernation.

The blonde woman shivered, and rolled over. Bastard.

But she would get better. She was sure of it. For one thing, having Krillin at the beck of her call guaranteed that she was free to simply lay there in a warm, comfy bed and sleep. Soup and tissues were always on hand, and she didn't mind when he took her temperature with a thermometer and did so every hour. Although, Juuhachigou would have preferred if the short fighter had continue to do what he'd done when she'd stumbled to his home in the rainy night, half blind, when he'd pressed a small, firm calloused hand onto her forehead to check how hot she was. It was less intrusive.

She even had a bell.

But she was fine right now, and simply content to lie in his bed and not think thoughts like 'why did you come here for help' and 'welp, you're in his bed. What are you thinking? You pretty much told him this was the last place you would ever be,' and 'thank Kami he doesn't have any porn in here and that is a good thing, that really is, no matter how curious you are as to what he reads.'

In the clean sheets and soft blankets, Juuhachigou dozed. He was probably a really vanilla guy anyway.

Her dreams were scattered, and somehow drifted in an area they normally were never in. It was falling asleep wondering about porn that did it, she bet, half aware near the end that it was simply a dream. The porn, and the fever. So, ultimately, her brother and Krillin were to blame.

She was innocent.

In reality, anyway. In her dream, however, she hadn't been such a good girl. And she had to be punished for that. It was a matter of principle for Krillin, and he insisted on doling out the punishment himself. Only he insisted on doing it slowly, to draw out the torture, and so she was forced to take charge. If he wanted to make sure that she would never do it again, she would make sure he accomplished this task successfully. Principles, after all, were important.

There was a creak of floorboards that awoke her, sweaty and disoriented. What made it truly terrible was, she gradually recognized the sounds as not being ones of someone entering the room, but of someone in it simply moving. Her throat felt a little sore, and reminded her where exactly she was and why she was there.

When her eyes snapped over, she felt a dreadful sense of déjà vu. There was even the same man standing over her, although this time instead of a kind smile, his expression was one torn between embarrassment and oddly, horror. His mouth was hanging over, and there was a flush in his pale, normally good-natured face. The scarred hands clenched, then unclenched. Finally, he raised a hand to cover his mouth and just look at her with huge eyes. That was strange.

What's more, the perverts, the old man and pig, had the same expression. The turtle, thankfully, had the familiar dopey expression on his face.

A dawning sense of her own horror was descending on her. She…she hadn't said anything, had she? No, surely not. It had been a simple, stupid, embarrassing dream to be shared with only herself. That dream had not been the sort of thing you wrote down in a diary, let alone said aloud to the man who had been participating in it.

She'd never been more disappointed that a turtle could speak. "What did Miss Juuhachigou mean when she told Krillin to put it in her because she was so bad? Put what? Why was she yelling at you Krillin? I could hear her miles out to sea."

17. Guest Room

Krillin carefully dusted a piece of lint from his pillow, straightened the white sheet around it, then held it to his face. His scream lasted ten seconds, and the pillow did a good job of muffling it.

He could nearly hear her, when he fell out of the bed and had one ear pressed to the floorboards. That's where she was, down there, in his house, this house, and was just reading a book. Just turning the pages of a book he'd read before, sitting there, reading a book he'd touched, on a couch he'd sat on, just existing. There.

She was not, he assured himself, there to see him. It was just, she'd gotten sick of her brother, of the fighting at Bulma's (and, mustn't forget, Vegeta's) house, and found Kami's place too boring-she wasn't a big fan of flowers and meditating. After living alone for awhile, and for some reason, getting sick of that (he suspected that she had been lonely), she ended up at his front door.

Thankfully, since it had been eight in the morning, he had been the only one awake. If anyone else, exempting the ancient turtle, had answered the door, Juuhachigou might have leveled the place. Of course, the moment hadn't exactly been the romantic, endearing situation he'd dreamt of. There were no flowers or nice clothes involved, but it was close enough to what he wanted. She needed a place to stay, and he could provide that for her.

Her face was wary as though he might grab her or throw himself to her feet.

"Is it alright if I stay here for awhile?" Her face: blank, uncaring.

The stupidest thing came out. "Well, you'll have to ask Master Roshi, since it's his house."

You could already see her regret this trip out here. "And where is he?"

"Sleeping." Under a pile of dirty magazines and ramen rappers was when he decided to not mention. "But I'm sure it'll be fine." Lightly, he opened the screen door and showed her in.

"It's smaller than I thought." Juuhachigou's blue eyes didn't miss a thing, and Krillin dearly wished the porno tapes weren't so obviously stacked in the huge pile before the TV. Or if they were, maybe not so neatly. Like it was a point of interest, of bragging, and you had to keep it nice and organized. But then, what was the point? She would soon learn about his housemates as soon as one of them groped her. And there was no if's about that; one of them always would.

She didn't run in the opposite direction and so he pointed out directions to parts of the house that she was already aware of. He told her exactly where the guest bedroom was, and after she waved off him showing it to her, she sat on the couch and looked around. Krillin nearly chewed him own lip off watching her.

Just sitting there and looking curiously around the house, purposely avoiding looking at the direction of videos. He offered her a glass of water, breakfast, tea, anything, and his face he knew told her he was dead serious about that. If she wanted his arm, he would glad go upstairs to get his belt for a tourniquet and ask her politely if she thought they should run out to get a saw or if this butcher knife in the kitchen was sharp enough. She already had his heart, his soul, what was a limb or two?

But the blonde woman dismissed his inquiries and then, bored, reached for the book on the table. "Are you reading this?"

He had time to nod before she flipped it open and started to read it as well. His imagination provided a picture of her sitting on his lap, the two of them reading the same book, gently chiding the other to hurry up so they could change the page. Then he had to excuse himself to run upstairs and have a panic attack in his bedroom and bash his head on the walls to extract any thought of getting so close to her.

She was here, for an indefinite period of time, and things had never looked better. Krillin fell back asleep, wearing an idiotic grin, and was awakened hours later by Master Roshi's scream and Juuhachigou's voice asking what the hell he was doing and where did he get the idea that he could just touch her like that?

18. Everyone needs a hobby

Her brother had a gun collected that could rival another blonde that had lived on Kami Island, and Krillin seemed to remembe that as he watched the taller man apply another dab of oil and lovingly shine his shotgun. The message was clear:

Do not ever touch his guns.

Krillin made sure not to, although they were stack precariously close to him. Juunanagou stared at him sourly. "My sister is in her bedroom, why don't you go in there?"

"Really?" Of course, she was the reason he was here, but Krillin had been determined to wait until she came out of her bedroom. Which could take hours. It wasn't that she was making sure she wore the right outfit, but just another way of testing his resolve, her brother could tell. Besides, it was worth it when she came out and they could leave. Then Juunanagou would have the place to himself, finally.

"Yes, just make sure you never touch my Remington."

"Of course not."

"Never." His cold eyes were narrowed suspiciously, as Krillin stood up and walked a wide birth around his guns.

"I won't," the ex-monk swore, holding a hand up to his heart. Then he scurried with the weirdest, happiest grin into Juuhachigou's room.

Juunanagou continued wiping down the gun, suddenly regretting sticking it into a hollow in a giant oak tree, and pulled the trigger. Sure, it had been cool, especially the way the squirrels jumped out of the branches at the same time the birds did, but there was sap and bark all over it. Was that a scratch?

"Hey, Juunana?" His sister poked her head out of the door, annoyingly.

He didn't look up. Was that rust? "What?"

"Do you have that oil, for that leather case?"

"Yeah, fine," the darker twin tossed the bottle to the other.

"Thanks." Juuhachigou turned back into the room, and he could hear her say, "Now, where were we…" before Krillin yelped and the door slammed shut.

Juunanagou rolled his eyes, and wondered if those two were ever going to get a life.

Now, where was that revolver? Goddamnit, if that midget had taken it, there would be hell to pay.

19. Not Human

There were little things that set her apart. It wasn't so much that she could program the TV, but the fact that the reception came in better when she stood nearby it and leaned to the right. That she was paranoid about her hair not because she was fond of her hairstyle, but because her hair did not continue to grow. Going to certain parts of Capsule Corp and her complaints because she always set the metal detector off, and she was not talking about her belt buckle. She could pick up recipes and spend an entire night preparing a feast for the holidays easily since she didn't need to sleep very often and could read the cooking books in the dark.

Which was distressing when you wandered downstairs to get a cup of water or to take another glance at that new magazine, and found her there, reading or just sitting there, looking at you. Watching your every movement in her silent, judgmental, lizard like way.

Once, Oolong had come down the stairs to find her smoking. He'd been down there to go through her laundry and to find a drill to discover if she and Krillin were actually a couple, and he ended up with only a singed tail. "If I never tell Krillin about her smoking," the shape shifting pig had confided to the owner of the pink house, "She said she won't kill me over trying to drill in the wall." Then he shivered and they both agreed that it was a fine bargain.

Once Master Roshi stumbled down into the kitchen one night, hoping to snatch the last grape Popsicle from the freezer only to find her eating it. "I won't tell Krillin."

"Good." Her lips were stained purple and would have been fetching had there not been such a glare on that face.

"Just so long as you avoid the television's antennas when I'm watching my night programs."

"Fine." Then she murmured in the darkened kitchen. "If he asks, tell him the pig ate it."

Her face would remain unlined even when Krillin would eventually develop wrinkles and grey in his hair. Her brother was a psychopath who came by only to spar with her and set the small house on fire when they came too close, or he was there to mock her boyfriend. Her blue eyes were often emotionless, reptilian in their apathy and movements, and she could tell them the temperature better than the thermometer nailed into the wall outside. Her slim form had withstood the beatings of the strongest people on this planet, and indeed, had beaten Vegeta to a pulp. Her pretty hands remained uncalloused, even as she helped Krillin repair the burned roof.

No matter how cute she was, she wasn't human.

If they went by their own senses, she was not even technically alive.

Of course, the rest of the household found a way to overlook that. For Krillin's sake. And for when they lifted that first spoonful of stuffing to their mouths on the holidays.

20. Everything dies

"Juuhachigou." Carefully, he lifted the radar from her grasp.

"You can't."

"Yes I can. That's the entire point of why I'm here."

"This isn't what the dragonballs were meant for."

"Then what," her eyes tore him apart. "Are they good for?"

"So, what are you going to do?" Krillin kept his voice steady. "Wish that I'm…what, twenty every ten years?"

"No. Around twenty-five. You were way too short at age twenty. And then I would just wish you were immortal."

He pulled in a breath, feeling the radar beginning to grow slippery in his damp hand. "Do you have any idea what that would mean?"

"Yes. I have considered this."

But he doubted this was more than anything than her reacting out of pain.

"Since you couldn't wish me human, I probably can't wish that you were a cyborg. Not that I necessarily wanted that, exactly. But if I couldn't wish for you to be young forever, it was a backup."

"'A backup'," he repeated, softly. "Did it ever occur to you what I might want? That maybe I don't want to be the same age for the rest of my life?"

"I won't have you leave me." Her voice rose. "You're going to leave me, on that island, with the old pervert." He had never thought of it that way. Always, it had been him left alone with Master Roshi for the rest of his life. But now, he was married and to a woman that didn't seem to outwardly age.

"It was one grey hair, Juuhachigou! It might not have even been mine. It might have been Master Roshi's, or," Krillin touched the back of her head, running the tips of his fingers through her hair. Instead of swatting him as she normally did when he was affectionate when she didn't want him to be so, which was nearly every time, she leaned into him. "Some of your hairs are pretty light. It could have been one of those."

"It wasn't."

"I won't leave you, even if I die."

She grasped his hand in her, the voice low and sure. "I could make this better, if you would just-"

"No, Juu, not like this."

21. Scent

He could never smell a damn thing. Not a one, not really. Which, while helpful when Oolong or Master Roshi cooked, also made it difficult when he'd put something in the toaster and forget about it.

He could imagine smells though. Usually by comparing them to taste, sound, and his own dim sense of scent. The three were intertwined, and when he thought of people he knew, Krillin associated them subconsciously with those sensations.

Bulma he imagined smelled like the water from a tap, metallic and chemically.

Goku, the way clothes out of the dry smelled, especially if you threw in barbeque sauce onto some sheets.

Vegeta, that time he'd stuck his tongue against the TV antenna and been sparked.

Master Roshi, the feeling and sound of a book being opened.

Yamcha, sand in his shoes and mouth.

Juuhachigou…he still wasn't sure about. When he was with her, or simply thinking about her, he was reminded of learning to fly for the first time. That lovely sensation of weightlessness, and the fear that any second he could crash and die a horrible death with just long enough to think about how painful this was going to be.

22. Cause and Effect

What was his name again?

It clung to the back of her mind, and eventually, unable to remember it off the top of her head, her files flipped open. Hundred of images flashed through her mind, ones of him barring every expression he had. His particular fighting style and moves were listed and waved away. Videos of him fighting were catalogued although not watched. One photo of him in particular stuck in her mind, of him carrying packages from a store, and blushing when his date turned around and smiled at him.

She would know him anywhere now, no matter what disguise he might wear. Every angle of his face was analyzed and she could spot him in a crowd of any size. At the least, she thought, smirking and hardly listening to him and her brother argue over whether or not life was a game and who were the pieces after all, his size made him easy to pick out.

Weakness: Thousands of things on that list flashed through her eyes, but a one thing caught her attention. 'Women he finds attractive.' Adorable and pathetic. Just like the rest of him. To be fair though, he hadn't run away. She had to give him some respect for having the courage to yell and challenge them, while his friends bled into the dirt behind them.

Now he was beginning, and she was getting bored of standing here. Plus the breeze through her torn tights was distracting. Juurokugou and Juunanagou summed up their positions on whether or not to kill Goku and Krillin's shocked wide-eyed face over being outvoted made her smile. You nearly could feel sorry for him.

'Women he finds attractive.'

There was always something to be said for psychological war against the enemy.

His whimpered as she approached were like some scared puppy. You almost wanted to pat his head, and ruffle his…Too bad about the hair situation. The short guy twisted to the side a tiny bit, but otherwise did nothing to prevent her from coming right up to him. She leaned down and-

Up close, the cyborg could see the sweat on his face, the wide helpless mouth and huge panicked eyes that were communicating rather than fight or flee to just stand there like a rabbit before a hunter, the noselessness of it all. His cheek was smooth and vulnerable against her lips.

"Good luck."

Juuhachigou had a hundred pictures of him ingrained into her programming. Every expression that he was capable of. Although, this one on his face now was new somehow.

He was too shocked to be afraid, and that was a shame.

Juuhachigou walked away, and didn't give it a single thought to it again until he popped up from behind a rock armed with a remote controller that could shut her down and the most serious expression on his round, noseless face.

23. Color

Juuhachigou had the most interesting eyes.

When he'd met her, they'd been a pale, cruel blue. And the time he saw her again, and again, they were the same color as the light color of the sky at dawn.

But then, when they finally met again, they were something darker, cerulean maybe?

And now, as she finally snapped and began yelling at him, they were the same color of the sky that he had looked up at, holding her unconscious body while below them the fight for the entire universe raged below. Just like then, he could barely take his eyes off her, even when she finally threw a punch at him and told the short bruised fighter to stop staring at her.

24. Games

She would swear, to the day she died, on her deathbed, that she didn't understand how this happened. There was no booze involved, no dares besides a little teasing from Krillin's end, no one holding a ki blast to her head, or threatening to play a CD of Krillin's favorite songs, as preformed by the short fighter himself. He'd simply pulled out the box and given her a sad look. "It'll distract us from not being able to spar in this storm."

And yet, with no reason or rhyme, she was here, on her hands and knees, trying to flick the stupid spinny thing and find another damn red spot to put her right hand. Underneath her, Krillin was whining about her taking up the blue spot that he needed to not dislocate his arm. The air around her consisted of the smell of plastic and the soap Krillin had washed in, as well as their sweat that surprisingly dripped down their faces.

She had believed that no adult could play this game and not have it be an excuse solely to put your crotch in someone's face, but still, there they were. Somehow, even with the rubbing and grinding, there was little romantic tension. He'd even, at one point, given her a very sad lap dance when trying to find a blue spot for his right leg, and neither had even blushed. Their limbs hurt too much for it to be sexual.

When your shoulder was on fire, Juuhachigou discovered, you really couldn't care much about how close someone else's hand was to your chest. Or the way his hair tickled her chin, when he stretched out a right hand for another blue spot.

"Please, could you switch to a different blue dot? My arm…"

"You should have thought of that before you took that yellow circle earlier."

Finally, the spinner moved. "Green, left hand green."

"Where's the green?"

"Where's the damn green?"

He was shifting under her, and she was blind from hair own hair falling into her face, as from his spiky dark hair that stuck up in every direction. "Why couldn't we just play Parcheesi, Krillin?

"You know, I think I saw Sorry in your closet? Or chess? Or that game where we have to draw stuff?"

"I thought," his voice was strained, "this would be better. Like a workout to make up for not being able to train."

Her left leg on that horrible yellow circle ached. "Scrabble. Why not Scrabble?"

"Oh god, my arm!"

When he fell, he took her with her. But he had fallen first, and so, therefore, she'd won.

"I think you lose." It was hard to breathe, and the knobs on his back jabbed into her own.

"Let's try a different game," Krillin offered. "Connect Four?"

"No more dots," she wheezed. "Except for the ones on your forehead."

25. Role Reversal

(Partially inspired by the episode in GT where Juunanagou jumped Krillin and Juuhachigou, and kills Krillin because of his ridiculous outfit and my god, that mustache, even I wanted to shoot him through the chest for growing that thing. Juuhachigou's holding him and for some bizarre reason, I'm moved, honestly touched by her being so sad at losing her husband, it's sweet and painful, and then I'm laughing because the dialogue is ridiculous, and then laughing harder because of her memories of Krillin are so skewed and I want to tell her, 'hey, Juu, that's not what happened. Aw, that's so great, you really care, Krillin should die or pretend to die more often, but so wrong. He didn't say that at all, do you think that's what actually what happened?'

Then it occurred to me that maybe Krillin wasn't the only with the overactive imagination that could spin out of control with its grasp of reality so easily.)

(Also, I completely am aware of how messed up it is to go from Juuhachigou clutching her dead husband and crying out not to leave her, and coming to this)

(But come on Juuhachigou, he never said he was going to take Cell. And you were not that friendly looking when you kissed him. And he was way more terrified.)

Juuhachigou sneered when she caught sight of the magazine just barely tucked under the couch. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved that at least they'd tried to hide the stuff while she was living here, or be sickened by it. It was a special issue, the cyborg realized, focusing on exotic blonde woman across the world.

She sat there, on the small red couch, and stared at it, making the same disgusted face as though that could make it disappear.

Then she picked it up and flipped through it.

What exactly did they see in this?

It was just naked bodies, how great could those be, and they were even ones that didn't even move. There was no appeal to this. As the woman whose hair matched several of the women in this magazine breezed through it, her opinion didn't change. The articles were ridiculous, the stories crude, the ads in the back for either escorts or more porn or fake crap that would never work, and there was no way those were real.

She closed it, snorting. Then a phrase stuck out, a damning phrase that repeated over and over and over again.

Stupid, Juuhachigou told herself. It was stupid. Forget it.

Yes, it was idiotic.

The perverts were all gone, leaving only her and Krillin.


'…Kurt smiled pleasantly as always, his dark hair and short stature making him stick out like a sore thumb, always enjoying a woman with passion knowing how amazing they were in bed. Immediately the sunny haired woman felt herself growing w-'


Then she opened it up again.

What was that about the short, dark haired guy saving the blonde woman from an insane doctor whose 'ingenious' plan of turning her into a…robot of illicit nature worked, but, sadly, left her like an animal in heat all the time and could never be satisfied by herself alone.

Completely diabolical, this mad scientist.

'What she needed was not another toy of the plastic kind, but one that breathed and could fill every void she had, over and over again, until she screamed and writhed on the cold metal table.'

What she needed, Juuhachigou thought, was a therapist. And a gun to shoot the mad doctor, and then herself to purge those thoughts from her head.

She ignored the part describing her, her being the 'spectacularly curved and well endowed' woman, and instead mostly read the words 'slim, well-muscled if not particularly tall body' and 'dashingly charming smile', 'messy hair that was as black as the night.' At the words 'rock hard' she had to get up and get a can of beer, grateful for once about what the perverts considered necessities when it came to drinks. In the fridge, she made sure that her hands didn't touch a single can emblazoned with a grape.

Juuhachigou sat back, and placed her feet on the coffee. It was already marked from the others relaxing and carelessly resting their feet on it. Even Krillin had given up on ever cleaning it properly. Remembering him bent over, trying to rub Pledge onto it and grumbling, she stole a look at the stairs. She could hear him upstairs, vacuuming since it was spring cleaning time. Sure, it was nice enough having a neat freak around to wash the dishes, but then if you left one book on the floor, it was hell.

Her eyes were so guilty, she knew. What she needed was something to hide them from people's view. Something dark that no one could see through while she read this.

Really. It was simply curiosity that drove this madness. How often did someone short get to play the hero?

Yes, something snide told her, and nearly making her jump since she realized it wasn't her programming speaking, so rare, maybe you should show Krillin and get his opinion on this piece.

Shut up.

The time in the lab where they'd first met and she'd literally thrown herself onto him, pushing him down and unzipping his pants while simultaneously warning him that he shouldn't have come here, which was a bit of a mixed message in this blonde's book. And just as they were having another go, her showing off her quite acrobatic body as she was shoved against a tank filled with always energetic genitalia, the insane doctor came in to find them. And then of course the madman wanted to study them both, and Kurt thought this was unacceptable. Besides, he was there to stop the guy from taking over the nearby town with his Nympho-lazer-beam.

Very diabolical, this doctor.

But it all turned out to be okay. 'The feisty blonde with a daredevil smile and a pair of pouty lips' was saved, although unfortunately her clothes could not escape the disaster, and look, it turned out some of the insane doctor's modifications had actually come in quite handy.

Yes, Juuhachigou thought dryly, quite dryly, since with all that moisture dampening her see-through underwear, she could put out the fire in the lab all on her own.

'Oh, but shouldn't we wait until we know that he's dead?'

Kurt needed to shut his adorable face up.

'Oh no, her voice was a purr, and she easily was able to saddle the small man's hips. What I need right now is you.'

'I see, his grin was as happy as ever and he ran his fingers through his thick glossy black hair, well, then I'm glad to help. Although, you never told me your name.'

'Mm, you're so delectable, so hard,' Juuhachigou crumbled the magazine more, to hide the words in case someone looked over her shoulder.

'I just want to eat you up. You feel so good in me. I never got a name from the doctor.'

'You didn't? That's such a shame.' But he had a way of course of cheering her up. 'What did he call you then? And were you the only one in there?'

'Oh, I have a twin sister, she told him throwing back her head, groaning deep in her throat as she felt him stiffening through his pants, and the master always just called me Number 17?'

Krillin was right. It was spring cleaning time, and as a guest in his house, she should help him. Although, admittedly, setting all of the lower house on fire with a ki blast was not exactly what he had in mind. But really, looking at from a distance while he sent a kamehame wave into the ocean and the force sweeping the waves into the smoking pink building, it wasn't so bad.

They could rebuild. And then, maybe later, she could convince Krillin to grow his hair out.

25. That's Just Wrong

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to smooth it down but in a way that wasn't so obvious. Appearances were important, regardless of the fact that she looked to have a pillow strapped to her stomach. "Have you been drinking?"


"Then why are you here?"


'Here', was Krillin there, outside her raised window on the roof, legs spread and rocking back and forth on his heels. His grin was nothing short of goofy. "To say 'Hiiiiiii'." He waved at her, beaming.

Juuhachigou tried again for sanity. "Were you painting the room again? You know you shouldn't do that without proper ventilation."


"Then why are you so happy?"

"Because you're here." His smile was nothing short of brilliant.

"Where else would I be?"

"Anywhere else."

"With this thing?" She motioned to her stomach.

"Aw, come on, it's not so bad."

"How would you know? There's no parasite in you. Although," her voice became thoughtful. "You might have one or two from whatever the hell Chi-Chi serves."

"Well, it's our honeymoon, shouldn't you be happy?"

"I would be, if we weren't here with those perverts."

"Well, it is Master Roshi's house and all…I got the donuts you wanted."

"Good. And the mustard?"

"…yes. Oh please, no, Juuhachigou. That can't be good for the baby!"

"What," her words were muffled by the yellow smeared junk food. "It's fine."