I Ask and You Smile

He hated hospitals. They were full of needles and uncomfortable beds and weird, unwelcoming smells and no one who worked there ever seemed all that happy. Goku wriggled restlessly in his bed, absolutely aching at every joint and throughout every limb. It was like having an itch he couldn't scratch, but all over, and it was driving him slowly insane … especially when, in all actuality, it was a real itch bothering him most.

"Gyaaaah…. This is the worst…" he bemoaned to the empty room and twisted at the waist. It was a mistake, as almost immediately he was howling in agony as his ankle bent awkwardly in its hammock.

The door floor open, revealing to him a flustered rush of blue and red, a panicked and wide-eyed Bulma shaking at the portal. "Son-kun, daijoubu ka?!" She gasped all at once, her hand trembling at the doorknob as she surveyed her friend across from her. "Did you hurt yourself? Should I get the doctor, or-"

"Bulma-chan!" Goku exclaimed merrily, his distress abandoned, and he arched his neck in an effort to beckon her closer. "Nah, nah! I don't need any doctors! I been tryin' to get rid of them all afternoon!" As she approached, his smile widened considerably in relief from her presence. "I'm sure glad it's you. You ain't got a clue how terrible it is to be wrapped up in all this stuff. I feel like I'm trapped!"

His petulant scowl toward his bandages and the machines to which he was wired threatened to spur a grin upon Bulma's face, and she fought her hardest to work up a disapproving glower. "Well, it's all in place so you don't hurt yourself any more than necessary, you know?" Delicately, she perched at the edge of his bed, the book in her hands folded neatly down into her lap. "How are you doing, aside from … this?" Vaguely, she gestured across his recumbent form. "At least you're not in that confining healing bed chamber anymore, right?"

"Eh," was his noncommittal reply, and Bulma couldn't help but giggle at his lingering discontent. "What I really wish is that I was goin' to Namek with y'all. But right now, I'm just grateful Chi Chi went to lunch with Gohan," he stage whispered up to her, sparing the door a harried glance. "She's been all over the place, cursin' up a storm, yellin' at everyone! I thought hospitals were for restin'!"

Bulma laughed outright, a gentle hand pressed to his shoulder. "You know she just … cares, Son-kun," she offered as pleasantly as she could. Truth be told, Bulma had never been a huge fan of Chi Chi's incessant doting and her highly flammable temper. Particularly when it came to the way she berated or belittled Goku. To her, it seemed as though the woman lacked any appreciation whatsoever for her husband, which quite frankly bothered Bulma in ways she tried not to acknowledge.

However, when she saw that he was not taking her reply under consideration, she broke instead into an indulging smile. "You should enjoy this quiet time while you can then, ne?"

Her conspiratorial whisper ushered in another wide grin across his lips. He was certainly glad she had not stayed on Chi Chi's side for very much longer and with her dismissal of the subject, Goku nodded then to the book in her lap. "So, what's that you got? Somethin' for me?"

"Oh!" Bulma half-laughed, flashing him the very bland cover of her notebook. "Not unless you want to brush up on your Namekian dialect." She barely missed his grimace of disinterest as she looked down and began to flip through the college ruled pages. "These are words I'm practicing that Mr. Popo's taught me for the trip. It's actually a fairly interesting language. The phonological changes can be pretty challenging and don't get me started on the graphemes—"

"Bulma-chan?" She looked up at the sound of his voice, blinking at him expectantly as he offered her his most somber look. "Did you really come all the way here to bore me back to sleep? They got medicine for me, to do that, y'know."

Huffing in irritation of his mockery, Bulma reached up and flicked the tip of his nose with her forefinger. "You'd better be glad you're injured all over, Son-kun. If it were otherwise, you'd regret what you just said. Besides!" She leaned apart from the bed, depositing the notebook into a nearby chair. "You should be thankful that someone as lovely, charming, and brilliant as me," she flourished her hand before ducking it through her long blue locks, "is gracious enough to be your friend and pay you a visit in this sorry hospital."

Goku blinked up at her, bemused by the massive ego that seemed to swallow the whole room. He swore he could swim in it. "Wow," he breathed, willing himself to shake his head dazedly. "You really are full of yourself, eh?"

Bulma scowled and nudged the bottom of his bed with her heel, nastily wishing she could do much more than simply jostle the wounded man. "Oh, will you stop already? Or do you just want me to leave now?" She growled and leapt to her feet, snatching up her book in her haste to retreat.

"Oh, don't go!" He called after her with a hint of desperation, pleased that she stopped after only a couple paces toward the exit. "C'mon, Bulma-chan, you know I didn't mean anything by it." As she twirled to face him again, Goku mustered up his most innocent look – that one that he was pretty sure was what won him a couple arguments with Chi Chi. He was proud to find Bulma conceding and deflating as she made her way towards his bed again. Hapazardly, she tossed her notebook into the chair it had previously laid. "Here," he offered, scooting as much aside as his harnesses would permit. "Sit with me."

"You're so silly," she laughed softly at his poor attempt to make room for her, though she obliged him and settled on the bed again. Bulma tilted her head down to examine him closer, a sudden pang stealing through her chest. "It's so lucky you didn't die, Son-kun. It … it really could've been worse for you, you know."

"I know," he responded spiritedly, and she was amazed to find his broad smile still intact. "It sure was great that Gohan and Kurririn and Yajirobe were all there, huh?"

She didn't understand it. How he could be so buoyant, even after such a close brush with death? Only after having just returned from the afterlife, at that? And if he had died, it's not as though they could've used to Dragonballs to bring him back, whether Piccolo was alive or not. Bulma was struck instantly by a tragic feeling that overwhelmed her head, and she pushed her palm through the loose bangs across Goku's forehead. "You're so optimistic," she sighed, concerned fleetingly with whether her fingers trembled too much.

He furrowed his brows at her in silent question, and Bulma snorted self-deprecatingly.

"It's just, here I am, worried if I'm going to get eaten in space and freaking out that I have to cut my hair today," she mumbled toward the bedspread, momentarily awash in shame at her shallowness.

His heroics always put into perspective how almost light-hearted her own concerns seemed to be, and she often found herself quite shameful of her woes. However, Goku seemed content to thoroughly investigate her features, as though trying to discern something hidden there. What was he looking for, she wondered. Could he see her trepidation? Her fear that wasn't just about monsters on foreign planets and getting lost in the blackness of space? It was doubtful, as she assumed there was little in the world Son Goku understood about dread of peril.

"So ... you're cutting your hair?" Goku finally queried into the silence around them. Bulma's blood ran cold, and she felt her cheeks burn suddenly as he continued, "I mean, why? You just changed it, didn't you?"

"Stop it!" She ferociously commanded, her hands reaching to clutch at the long azure tendrils. "I have to! It wouldn't be prudent to have such long hair in space, you know. It might be hazardous!" Bulma sniffed haughtily and turned her face away, tossing a long lock over her shoulder. "You have to think of these things, Son-kun. I know I do."

She was startled as she felt his hand brush through her mane then, and she looked down at his face. He was struggling just to rake his fingers between the strands, the movement undoubtedly arousing unnecessary pain throughout him. Bulma wanted to swat his hand away and reprimand him, but something tight in her chest made her refrain. Goku's fingers were warm in between her tresses, his calloused fingertips barely brushing her shoulder and neck in their journey through her curls.

"I like your hair like this," he supplied then, much quieter than before, and with a lopsided smile. "You used to wear it long before, remember?"

Bulma nodded mutely, entranced by the determination on his face as he twirled a curl around his finger. "It just gets in the way now," she told him softly, a flame tickling traitorously in her lower belly as his caressing slowed. She hated that her face felt so hot, and she prayed desperately it did not show on her cheeks. Not that there was any reason at all that it should, of course.

"Chi Chi won't wear her hair down," Goku grumbled, finally withdrawing his digits out from the blue depths that framed her face. For a moment, it was regret that passed through him as he leaned back down from her. With a heavy exhale, as though it had cost him much of his energy, he explained, "She says the same thing. 'It gets in her way.' It's just hair, how can it cause so much bother?"

"Well," Bulma cleared her throat and tossed her hair again, still perturbed by his unsolicited show of affection. "You're lucky you don't have to worry about that, huh? Yours just kind of stays like that!" She giggled then, swatting at one of the stray branches of dark hair that sprung from his crown from between bandages wrapped about his skull.

They both laughed aloud as it wobbled slightly, unaffected for the most part by her playful batting of his locks. When she looked down at him, his face full of unabashed warmth, Bulma couldn't help herself from feeling that bubbling sensation that sometimes rose around her heart when he was near. So kind and adoring, she often thought that he had to be the personification of dearness and light.

She puffed out a pent-up breath, one she hadn't known she was holding, and a spare glance was thrown across the room – toward the door. Wordlessly, she turned back to him, her pink lips pulled tight and her eyebrows knit together thoughtfully.

Goku arched a brow at her, curious and uncertain. Her face in that moment … he could see her lips pucker in that way they did when she was thinking something over, trying to unpuzzle something he knew he'd never figure out. He had seen it a million times before, sometimes he thought her face just came that way, but for some reason now it made something odd flip over in his stomach. He recognized that it was not entirely unlike the foreboding sense that came before a battle.

Suddenly, she began to move at his side, shifting further down the mattress. As she began to draw her legs up alongside his, it occurred to him then what she was doing, and Goku gasped softly when her figure turned beside him and pressed nearer. He could feel her flush against his prone body, and an unwarranted heat filtered up his chest and neck as her light breath fanned over him. It did not remind him of shared childhood bunks or raucous adventures in the woods, as often she would. That weird turn in his stomach rolled again as pain still twinged within every bone and muscle set inside him, yet it was all somehow negated by the warmth of her body so close next to him.

"Bulma-chan…" He began, the noise stuck somewhere deep in his throat.

She bent her head, her legs tensing beside his. "I know I'm being forward," she admitted, and he wanted to look down to see the expression on her face; the way she said it was cause for curiosity. "It's just … I might not see you again, Son-kun, and—"

"That isn't true," Goku spoke firmly over her. He was happy to catch her eyes as they swooped up to find him. Regrettably, though, those eyes were not alight in the way he was accustomed.

"But it is," she sounded so grave. It unsettled him a little bit. "I almost didn't see you again a couple of days ago. You would've come back, and I never would've seen you again." Bulma hesitated, her fingertips plucking anxiously at the bedspread. "That would've meant forever."

Goku sorely wished he could've rolled over and embraced her. Lying there beside him, as close as he could possibly fathom them ever being, she looked so distant and separate. He wanted very much to hold her and remind her and himself that such ifs and maybes were not to be contemplated. And yet despite his urgency to do so, he could not find the strength necessary to accomplish this task. It frustrated him and made his skin burn in a completely different way than her closeness did.

His heart sank as her eyes drifted back down to where her fingers played at the sheets between them. "I know it's not what happened. And I'm glad of that. But it could've, you know. And it still could." She glanced back up, then over his chest and toward the open window. "So, I just thought…"

But what she thought remained unspoken, as Bulma merely let the sentence settle, her eyes glazing over with foreign thoughts momentarily. He studied her, thinking her lost somewhere on the horizon behind him. Goku half-wanted to look back to find what had her so fascinated. With quiet determination, she turned her gaze back up toward him and eyed his wary expression, knowing that he was trying to search her out.

Bulma wondered in that instant if he ever had the same kind of hindsight she did. Probably not, she considered with a tiny smile, knowing full and well that he was the most forward-thinking individual. It was part of his charm, wasn't it?

Slowly, she lifted her head up, past his shoulder, until her lips could press soundly against his cheek. Goku jumped at the intimate contact, at the wetness that lingered when she drew back again. The chill of the room hit the spot where her mouth had been, and he felt a shiver run through him.

"Bulma—" He stuttered out, his mouth hanging open in something akin to awe. This was unfamiliar, and he was not sure what he intended to offer.

"I, uhm." The spontaneity of her actions rushed swiftly through her brain. With both hands, she pushed herself up from the tiny mattress and away from the heat of him. "I should really go, or I'll be late for my appointment!" Immediately, he felt the loss of her warmth as she planted her feet to the floor and briskly jumped up. "There's still a lot to do for the ship, back home, too! Just … so, so much!" Her thumb gestured for the door as she spun on her heel to face him, all shaky smiles and rosy cheeks and floundering in embarrassment. "So, I'll just—"

"Bulma!" Goku started again, trying to raise his voice from wherever he had lost it. She froze and he watched her eyes go wide. He thought it might be fear, and he suddenly felt bad about that. "You'll-- you'll see me again, before y'all leave, right?"

His questioned softened her, and Bulma's mouth moved to permit a much more forgiving smile. "Oh. Of course I will, Son-kun," she assured him, her head ducking slightly as she willed her blush to diminish. "I mean, I'll need you to lend me some of that unsinkable courage, won't I?"

When she tipped her head back up for him, he found her eyes pleading just quietly with him. The corner of his mouth turned up in an effort to assure her, and he saw at once the shift in her irises. Her eyes flickered in the way he remembered, lit up like the dawn and filled with a kind of knowing. It soothed his rapidly beating heart, placating that flare of worry, and allowing for a grin to blossom further across his face.

Author's Note: Another Goku/Bulma one-shot! This one's a little more romantic than my other one, though my thirst for canon still prevents me from going anywhere further with these two. Besides, the will-they-won't-they is kind of an addiction for me, so it's nice to think that there's this untapped need for one another buried somewhere inside them. Maybe that's just me. ;)

This is set in the 10 days just after the Saiyan Saga and right before the trip to Namek.