Earlier That Morning
"Are you INSANE?!"
Lunch's voice ricocheted through Bulma's bedroom after she'd hung up with Yamcha.
Bulma sat cross-legged on her bed, arms crossed defensively, chin raised in that stubborn way that meant she'd already made up her mind. "It's not insane. It's scientific."
"You're going on dates with TWO guys on back-to-back days," Mai said slowly. "That's not science. That's asking for drama."
"It's a controlled experiment!" Bulma insisted, snatching her notebook from the nightstand and thrusting it toward them. The pages were covered in neat columns, observations, hypotheses scribbled in her precise handwriting. "Look, Goku said dates aren't what I think they are. He said that years ago when I asked him about that promise. So I need a baseline to compare against. A control group."
Chi-Chi leaned forward, curiosity breaking through her skepticism. Her eyes scanned the notebook pages. "So Yamcha is..."
"The control group," Bulma confirmed with scientific authority, even as her fingers worried at the edge of the notebook. "My normal date experience. Standard variables, predictable outcomes. Then tomorrow, Goku is the experimental variable. If there's a significant difference, then I'll know what he meant."
She paused, and for just a moment, her confidence wavered. Her voice became smaller. "If there isn't..."
"Then?" Lunch prompted, softer now, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Bulma looked down at her notebook, her thumb tracing the margin where she'd doodled without realizing it, small stars and what might have been spiky hair. "Then I'll know I've been building this up in my head for nothing. That it's just... me being stupid. That whatever I've been feeling is just." She stopped herself.
The three girls exchanged glances, a whole conversation passing between them in that moment.
"So we're spying on both dates?" Mai finally asked, breaking the tension.
"Obviously," all three other girls said in unison, and despite everything, Bulma smiled.
"I'll get the trench coats," Lunch announced, standing up with theatrical determination.
---
Bulma waited on a busy street corner, leaning against the iron railing, arms crossed loosely over her turquoise dress. The afternoon sun painted everything in warm gold, making the city look almost romantic. She'd dressed carefully, not too fancy, not too casual. The kind of outfit a girl wears when she's trying but pretending she isn't.
Her eyes were wide open, but not seeing the street. Nervous energy, but not for today. Not for the date happening in the next few minutes.
No, her mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow.
To him.
Without meaning to, she found herself imagining it. Tomorrow's date with Goku. Those big hands reaching for hers, fingers intertwining. Looking up, having to crane her neck because he was so damn tall now, and seeing his jaw, that sharp line, those piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through every defense she'd ever built.
Heat bloomed across her cheeks. Her heart kicked against her ribs.
"Stop it," she whispered to herself, but her treacherous mind kept spinning the fantasy. What would he wear? Where would they go? Would he smile at her the way he sometimes did, like he knew exactly what she was thinking.
A shadow fell across her.
Bulma's breath caught. Her heart lurched with sudden, fierce anticipation. This was it, he came early to—
She looked up.
Yamcha stood there, hands in his pockets, that easy confident smile on his face.
Reality crashed back like cold water. The flush in her cheeks faded. Her eyes, which had been bright with expectation, dimmed. That small, unconscious smile she'd been wearing, the one she hadn't even known was there, slowly disappeared from her lips.
She'd woken from an involuntary dream and found herself in the waking world again.
"You're late," she said, her voice flat, sharp-edged.
Yamcha didn't notice the shift. He'd caught the tail end of her expression, the flushed cheeks, the slightly dazed look, and completely misread it. *She was flustered waiting for me,* he thought with satisfaction. *That's so cute. She's nervous for our date. Look at her now, trying to appear calm and collected.*
Completely oblivious to the fact that she'd been dreaming of someone else entirely.
"Sorry about that," he said, his smile widening. "Ready to go?"
"Where are we going?" Bulma asked, falling into step beside him.
"It's a surprise," Yamcha said, hands still in his pockets. He maintained a careful distance, exactly the space the magazine had recommended. Close enough to seem interested, far enough to respect boundaries.
*Mental note,* Bulma thought as they walked. *Immediate start: walking side by side, no physical contact.*
Behind them, maintaining a respectable surveillance distance, the three-girl reconnaissance team moved like terrible spies.
"So I've never actually been on a real date," Mai whispered, adjusting her oversized sunglasses. "Is this how they're supposed to begin?"
"I've read in magazines that you mustn't hold hands or get too close at the beginning," Chi-Chi explained, consulting a small notepad she'd brought specifically for this purpose. "So Yamcha is going completely by the book."
"That sneaky little fox," Lunch muttered with grudging respect. "He actually studied the magazine."
Ahead of them, Yamcha was mentally reviewing his checklist. *Step one: casual walk to build comfort. Check. Step two: compliment her appearance—but not too much. Now.*
"You look good today, Bulma," he said, glancing at her outfit.
His eyes traveled down, the dress, her legs, her shoes. She was wearing strappy heels, delicate things that showed off her small feet, toes painted a soft pink. Pedicured and perfect, like something out of a fashion magazine.
"Meh," he said under his breath before he could stop himself.
*Her feet... small, soft, all pampered and pedicured like some delicate princess. Pink nails, smooth soles that've never seen a real scrape. It's cute, but it just... doesn't do it for me.*
His mind, traitor that it was, immediately conjured a different image. *Kakarot's feet. Strong, with high arches toughened from years of training barefoot. Toes that could grip the earth, feet that had crushed rocks, dirt-caked from the arena. That wild, raw strength. The kind that pins you down and makes you beg for—*
Yamcha's face flushed hot.
"Did you say something?" Bulma asked, not particularly interested.
"Nothing! Just, uh, nice day."
Behind them, the spy team had noticed his blush.
"Look how red he is!" Mai whispered excitedly.
"He must really be falling for Bulma!" Chi-Chi added.
Lunch looked suspicious, her eyes narrowing.
They walked for twenty minutes in awkward silence. Yamcha mentally checked off his route, perfectly timed. Bulma made mental notes about the complete lack of conversation.
Finally, they arrived.
The aquarium rose before them, all blue glass and curved architecture designed to look like waves.
Bulma stared at it. Her expression remained completely neutral, no happiness, no disappointment. Just... flatness.
Yamcha, meanwhile, was internally celebrating. *Nailed it! Girls love cute animals! This is perfect. Magazine said aquariums are romantic but not too intense for a date.*
In the back, trailing at a safe distance, the three girls exchanged looks of profound disappointment.
"The aquarium," Mai said flatly.
"The most generic date location in existence," Lunch added.
"It's so... textbook," Chi-Chi sighed.
---
The next two hours passed with all the excitement of watching paint dry underwater.
Yamcha guided them through the exhibits with the enthusiasm of a tour guide who'd memorized a script. "And here we have the Pacific Northwest habitat, featuring various species of salmon and—"
Bulma walked beside him, her face an expressionless mask, but inside, she was screaming.
*This is torture. Actual, literal torture. I could be in my lab. I could be building something. Hell, I could be alphabetizing my capsules and it would be more interesting than this.*
"Aren't they beautiful?" Yamcha gestured at some jellyfish drifting in their tank.
"Mm," Bulma responded, which could mean anything or nothing.
Bulma was seething, but she kept it locked down tight. Under normal circumstances, she would have flipped him off and stormed out after the first fifteen minutes. But this wasn't normal. This was science. This was understanding.
And maybe, though she wouldn't admit it, her heart needed to know if this hollow feeling was just what dating was, or if tomorrow would prove something different.
*Just endure it,* she told herself. *For science.*
---
Next came the movie theater, another magazine checkpoint. This was supposedly the moment where you "closed the distance" and initiated light physical contact.
The film was a romantic drama, something about a poor man getting run over by a CEO's daughter, and love blooming across class lines. Standard fare.
The lights dimmed. The movie started.
On screen, the CEO's daughter began to see the world differently through the poor man's eyes. She started to fall for him, for his genuineness, for the way he showed her life beyond her gilded cage.
Bulma's mind drifted without her permission.
In her imagination, she wasn't watching the screen anymore. She was the screen. She was that woman, and Goku was the man showing her a world she'd never seen. Not wealth or poverty, but something else. Something real.
In her fantasy, he turned to her. Those eyes intense with emotion. He extended his hand, those large, hands that had probably crushed rocks.
"I want to show you everything," fantasy-Goku said.
His hand reached for hers. She felt it, really felt it, warm and rough and gentle all at once. Her heart thundered. Heat flooded her cheeks.
The hand closed around hers.
And squeezed.
Bulma's eyes snapped back to reality as Yamcha's hand gripped hers, clammy and awkward.
The fantasy shattered like glass.
"AHHH!" The sound escaped her throat before she could stop it, surprise, disappointment, and frustration all rolled into one.
"Shhhhh!" Multiple voices hissed from the darkness around them.
Bulma's face burned, but now with embarrassment rather than romantic fantasy. She sat rigid in her seat, hand trapped in Yamcha's grip, trying not to scream or cry or possibly both.
Yamcha, meanwhile, was mentally high-fiving himself. *Perfect! She gasped and blushed! Just like the magazine said, hold her hand during the emotional part of the movie. If she blushes, it's working! Nailed it!*
In the back row, the spy team's faces were buried in their hands.
"I can't watch this," Mai whispered.
"It's like watching a car crash in slow motion," Chi-Chi agreed.
"Except more painful," Lunch added.
The rest of the movie passed in uncomfortable silence, Bulma's hand going progressively more limp and dead in Yamcha's grip, like her soul was slowly leaving her body.
—
Then came the café terrace.
By the time they reached the café terrace, Bulma was beyond exhausted.
It wasn't physical tiredness. It was the bone-deep weariness of suppressing her true self for hours. Of biting back every sarcastic comment, every eye-roll, every urge to just end this farce and go home.
Bulma wasn't built for keeping things inside. She was fire and opinion and sharp edges.
They sat at a small table facing each other. The café was sunny and charming, with fairy lights strung overhead and the smell of fresh coffee in the air. It should have been romantic.
Bulma looked like a zombie. Eyes vacant. Expression dead. Her soul had left the building somewhere around the second hour of the aquarium.
Behind them, the spy team had completely abandoned their disguises. They sat at a nearby table, openly watching, looking just as disappointed as Bulma felt.
"Is this a real date?" Mai asked, genuinely confused. "I mean, they did all the things..."
"All the things from the dramas," Chi-Chi agreed, consulting her notes. "But it didn't feel the same. Something was missing."
"Yeah," Lunch said, her eyes suddenly widening as realization struck. "I know what was missing."
She grabbed Mai's face and physically turned it.
Mai's eyes went wide too. "Oh my—"
"What?" Chi-Chi turned to look, and her mouth fell open.
At a table across the terrace, clearly visible now that they were actually looking, sat two figures.
And one of them was unmistakably Goku.
"Are you enjoying the date?" Yamcha asked, oblivious to the seismic shift that had just occurred in the atmosphere.
Bulma was melting in her chair, a puddle of exhaustion and boredom. "Yeah..." Her voice was barely there. "I guess."
Then her eyes landed on something past Yamcha's shoulder. They widened, pupils dilating.
Her entire body went rigid.
*She's looking at me with such intense focus,* Yamcha thought, a little smirk forming. *I must be her whole world right now.*
Bulma stood up abruptly, chair scraping against stone.
She walked past Yamcha without a word.
"Bulma?" He turned, confused, watching as she approached another table.
And then Yamcha saw him too.
Goku.
That commanding presence, even while sitting casually. One ankle crossed over his knee, leaned back in his chair like he owned not just the table but the entire establishment, possibly the whole city block.
But it wasn't just him that made Bulma's breath catch in her throat and her stomach drop like a stone.
It was the woman sitting across from him.
A gorgeous woman. Mature. Professional. Composed in a way that screamed confidence and competence.
She had black hair pulled back in a sleek high ponytail, not a strand out of place. Thin-framed glasses perched on her nose, giving her that attractive intellectual look. She wore a white button-up shirt, tailored perfectly to her figure, and black dress pants that hugged her long legs with professional precision.
The woman held a manila folder, reading from it with focused attention, occasionally glancing up at Goku as she spoke. Her red lips moved, forming words Bulma couldn't hear. Her posture was perfect, her demeanor controlled and businesslike.
*Who the hell is that?*
Goku leaned forward slightly, said something. The woman responded, referencing something in her folder. Their conversation looked professional, business-like, but there was an ease between them. A comfort.
*What is this? What am I looking at? A business meeting? At a café terrace?*
Bulma's mind raced through possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.
*Who is this woman? Why does she look so comfortable sitting across from him? Why is the sight of them together making my chest feel tight? Why do I want to walk over there and—*
She stopped that thought before it could complete itself.
"Bulma?" Yamcha's voice seemed to come from very far away.
She didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
Because at that moment, as if sensing her gaze like a predator sensing prey, Goku's eyes flicked up from his conversation.
Their gazes met across the terrace.
Black eyes locked with blue.
And then Goku smiled.
Not a friendly smile. Not a pleasant "oh hello" smile.
An *knowing* smile. Amused. Provocative.
That smile said: *Having fun? Is your date going well? Because mine seems pretty interesting.*
Something hot and sharp flared in Bulma's chest. A cocktail of emotions she couldn't name, anger, confusion, and something else. Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy, though she'd die before admitting that last one.
*How dare he. How DARE he.*
She wasn't even sure what she was angry about.
Or was it that smile—that infuriating, knowing little smile that suggested he understood exactly what she was feeling?
Before she consciously decided to move, Bulma's body was already in motion. Her heels clicked against the stone terrace as she crossed the distance between tables, each step sharp and purposeful.
"Bulma?" Yamcha stood as well.
"I'll be right back," she said tightly, not even looking at him.
The three spy girls, still supposedly hidden behind their menus despite the fact that everyone could clearly see them, watched with wide eyes and open mouths.
"Oh no," Mai breathed.
"This is about to get *interesting*," Lunch said, barely able to contain her glee.
Chi-Chi just looked confused, her romantic drama experience failing to provide a framework for whatever was happening. "Why is she angry? I don't understand. They haven't even started their date yet."
Bulma reached Goku's table and stopped, hands finding her hips in a power pose that she hoped projected confidence rather than the chaos she felt inside.
Up close, the woman was even more striking. Sharp features, high cheekbones, calculating eyes behind those glasses that assessed Bulma in one glance.
"Bulma," Goku said, his voice carrying that same hint of amusement from his smile. He didn't seem surprised to see her at all. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Goku." She forced her voice to remain level, professional. "What are you doing here?"
"Having coffee," he replied simply, gesturing to the cup in front of him with those large hands. "You?"
"I'm on a date," she said pointedly, her eyes flicking deliberately to the woman, then back to him. "Though apparently I'm not the only one."
The woman's eyebrow raised, the barest acknowledgment of the implication, but she said nothing. She simply closed her folder with a soft snap and sat back to watch.
Goku's smirk widened just slightly, and Bulma wanted to punch it off his face. "This isn't a date, Bulma. This is business."
"Business." She gestured vaguely at the impeccably dressed woman, at the café setting, at the entire situation. "At a café terrace. With her."
"Yes," Goku said, offering no further explanation, clearly enjoying how much this was bothering her.
Behind Bulma, she could sense Yamcha approaching, could hear his footsteps, his voice cutting through the tension.
"Bulma? Is everything okay?" He arrived at her shoulder, then spotted Goku and his expression brightened with oblivious friendliness. "Goku?! Hey, man! What's up?"
"Yamcha," Goku acknowledged with a nod.
"You're here too! Are you on a date?" Yamcha's hand found Bulma's, grabbing it with possessive enthusiasm. "'Cause me and Bulma are!"
Bulma's entire body tensed. She started to wiggle her hand, trying to extract it from his grip without making a scene. Yamcha didn't notice. Goku did.
Goku's eyes dropped to their joined hands. His smile never wavered, but something shifted behind his eyes.
"Hey, I know!" Yamcha continued, completely oblivious to the mounting tension. "Let's do a double date!"
Bulma's face was turning red. Not from embarrassment. From suppressed rage. Her vision was starting to tinge crimson at the edges.
*Let. Go. Of. My. Hand.*
"Look at her blushing," Yamcha said, squeezing her hand tighter. "She's so shy."
Goku and the woman exchanged a glance. Both thought the same thing simultaneously: *What a dense asshole.*
The spy girls in the background were bracing themselves.
"Here it comes," Mai whispered, covering her eyes.
"She's going to explode," Lunch predicted.
"Should we take cover?" Chi-Chi asked nervously.
In Bulma's vision, the world had gone red. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight. She was about to detonate, about to unleash years of pent-up frustration on this oblivious, magazine-reading, hand-holding—
A touch.
Different from Yamcha's clammy grip.
Rough but gentle. Warm. Large.
Goku's hand closed over hers, over where Yamcha was holding her, and gently but firmly pulled her hand free. The relief was instant and overwhelming.
Bulma's eyes went wide, her anger short-circuiting into confusion.
Goku's hand completely enveloped hers. She could feel the strength, the warmth.
"By the way," Goku said casually, his voice easy like he was commenting on the weather, "I forgot to give you back your bracelet."
Still holding her hand, he slipped something onto her wrist with his other hand. A delicate golden bracelet, simple but elegant.
Bulma stared at it. At her wrist. At his hand still holding hers.
Her brain had stopped working.
"Son-kun, th-this isn't—m-my—" The words tumbled out half-formed, her usual eloquence completely deserting her.
Goku cut her off smoothly. "Yamcha." He turned his attention to the other man. "Could you take her home please? She's not feeling well."
"Oh!" Yamcha, as always, took things at face value. "Yeah, okay! Of course!"
Goku's hand began to retreat from hers. Slowly. His fingers trailing across her palm, caressing the sensitive skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
"See you tomorrow, Bulma," he said, his voice dropping just slightly, meant only for her.
Then his hand was gone, and she immediately missed its warmth.
Yamcha was already guiding her away, one hand on her lower back, steering her toward the exit. "We should get you home. Did you eat something bad at lunch?"
Bulma wasn't listening. She glanced back over her shoulder.
Goku was watching her go, that small smile still playing at his lips.
At the spy table, Mai and Lunch had melted into their chairs, practically panting, faces flushed. Chi-Chi was blushing too but looking determinedly away, refusing to acknowledge Goku's effect on women even as her own body betrayed her.
The woman beside Goku cleared her throat delicately. "Mister Goku," she said, "that was my bracelet. When exactly did you snatch it?"
Goku picked up his coffee cup with those large hands, took a slow sip, and watched Bulma disappear around the corner. "I'll buy you another one."
"How generous," the woman said dryly.
Goku set down his cup, and for just a moment, his expression changed. The playful mask slipped, revealing something darker.
*She's completely in love with me,* he thought. *What am I doing? Nothing changed from before.*
He was talking about his previous life. About playing with people's hearts. About pursuing women who were already spoken for, who were in relationships, who deserved better than his games.
"Mister Goku," the woman said, adjusting her glasses, pulling him back to the present. "Shall we continue?"
Goku blinked, the dark reflection fading from his eyes. He picked up his coffee again. "Mm? Oh yeah. Where were we?"
The woman opened her folder again, all business. "You were telling me about the property in the East District."
---
The ride back to Bulma's house was a blur of streetlights and Yamcha's concerned chatter that Bulma didn't register. Her mind was elsewhere, trapped between the ghost sensation of Goku's hand and the reality of sitting in Yamcha's car.
Her wrist felt warm where the bracelet sat. She kept touching it without meaning to, fingers tracing the delicate gold.
*It wasn't even mine,* she thought distantly. *He took it from that woman just to... what? Make a point? Create a moment?*
And it had worked..
"...so I was thinking maybe next time we could..." Yamcha was saying something about a next time, already planning date, completely oblivious to the fact that this date had been a disaster of epic proportions.
When they pulled up to her house, relief flooded through her. *Finally. Home.*
She reached for the door handle.
"Wait," Yamcha said.
Something in his tone made her pause. She turned to look at him, and her stomach dropped.
His expression had changed. More focused. Determined. He was looking at her with an intensity that would have been flattering if it didn't make her skin crawl.
*Oh no.*
"Bulma, I had a really great time today," he said, shifting in his seat to face her more fully.
"Uh-huh," she managed, hand still on the door handle, ready to bolt.
"It's been 7 years of dating, we didn't really see each other but I think we really connected time." He was leaning closer now, unbuckling his seatbelt.
*We did not connect. We had parallel experiences in the same physical space. That's not the same thing.*
"I should really go inside, I'm not feeling—" Bulma tried, but Yamcha was already moving.
He got out of the car, and in her exhausted, flustered state, she didn't react fast enough. He was at her door, opening it, offering his hand to help her out like a gentleman.
*The magazine,* she realized with creeping dread. *He's following the magazine steps. End of first date protocol. Walk her to the door, and then—*
"Let me walk you to your door," Yamcha said, and it wasn't really a question.
Bulma's legs felt like lead as she let him guide her up the walkway to her front door. Every step felt wrong. Her body was screaming at her to run, but exhaustion kept her moving forward.
*Just get inside. Just say goodnight and get inside.*
They reached her door. She turned to face him, putting on her best polite smile.
"Thanks for today, Yamcha. I'll just—"
But he wasn't listening. His hand found her arm, gentle but firm.
"Bulma," he said softly.
And then he pulled her closer.
Time seemed to slow down. Bulma's eyes widened as she registered what was happening.
*Oh god. No. No no no no—*
Yamcha's other hand came up to cup her cheek. His face was moving closer. She could see his eyes starting to close, his lips parting slightly.
*Step Eight: The First Kiss. If the date went well, initiate light physical contact. Gauge receptiveness. If positive signals continue, go for the kiss. Confidence is key.*
Her mind was screaming at her to move, to pull away, to say something, anything, but her body had frozen. Complete paralysis.
It was like watching herself from outside her body. She could see it happening, his face getting closer, his lips approaching hers, the inevitable collision course, but she couldn't make her muscles obey.
*Move. MOVE. Why can't I move?!*
His lips were inches away. She could feel his breath on her face.
*Please, someone—*
"THANKS YAMCHA!"
A hand shot out from seemingly nowhere and grabbed Bulma, yanking her backward with surprising force.
Mai materialized like an avenging angel, her arm around Bulma's shoulders, physically inserting herself between them with a bright, aggressive smile.
"She's really tired!" Mai announced cheerfully, her grip on Bulma protective and firm. "She's gonna go sleep now! Right, Bulma?"
Bulma couldn't speak. She just nodded frantically, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Before Yamcha could process what was happening, Lunch appeared on his other side, her hand on his arm, gently but inexorably steering him away from the door.
"You did great today!" Lunch said with false enthusiasm, turning him around.
"Really textbook stuff," Chi-Chi added from his other side, appearing like the third point of a triangle, helping corral him back toward his car. "Very... thorough. And long. So long. She's exhausted. We all are."
"But I—" Yamcha tried to look back at Bulma, confused. "We were just—"
"Goodnight Yamcha!" All three girls said in unison, practically shoving him toward his vehicle.
"Sleep well!"
"Drive safe!"
"Don't forget to text when you get home!"
Yamcha found himself at his car door, completely bewildered about how he'd gotten there. He looked back at the house. Mai had already gotten Bulma inside. The door was closing.
"Uh... goodnight?" he called weakly.
The door shut with a definitive click.
Inside, Bulma stood in her entryway, breathing hard, her hand pressed to her chest. Mai still had an arm around her, protective and steady.
Their eyes met.
Mai's expression was soft. She smiled, a real smile, warm and genuine.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
Bulma nodded, then shook her head, then laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. "I froze. Why did I freeze? I never freeze."
"Thank you," Bulma whispered.
"I know." Mai squeezed her shoulder. "That's what friends are for."
*Friends.*
They'd known each other through Goku, all of them had been drawn into his orbit in different ways.
Lunch and Chi-Chi came back in, shutting the door firmly and locking it for good measure.
"Is he gone?" Bulma asked.
"Driving away as we speak," Lunch confirmed, peering through the window. "Looking very confused."
"Good," Chi-Chi said firmly. Then, softer, "Are you alright, Bulma?"
"I am now," Bulma said, and found it was true.
The four of them stood there for a moment in the entryway, a unit, a team.
"Come on," Mai said gently, guiding Bulma toward the stairs. "Let's get you to bed."
---
She sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing her date outfit, and finally let herself process the day.
The aquarium. The restaurant. The movie theater. The café.
*Yamcha.*
She thought about his careful distance, his scripted compliments, his programmed affection. Every step calculated, every move planned, following rules from a magazine like they were gospel.
And the kiss attempt. She shuddered. Not from fear, but from the wrongness of it. How desperately she hadn't wanted it. How her body had known before her mind caught up.
*That's not what I want. That's not what any of this should feel like.*
Then she thought about the café terrace.
*Goku.*
Her hand went to the bracelet on her wrist. She touched it, feeling the cool gold against her skin.
The way he'd looked at her. That knowing smile. The mysterious woman, *who even was she?*, and how Bulma had felt seeing them together. That sharp, hot feeling in her chest that she was still refusing to name.
And then his hand.
The way he'd pulled her free from Yamcha's grip so smoothly, so naturally. How his hand had completely enveloped hers. The warmth, the strength held in check. The way his fingers had trailed across her palm as he'd let go, leaving fire in their wake.
"See you tomorrow, Bulma."
Tomorrow.
Their date was tomorrow.
The thought sent a jolt of electricity through her exhausted body. Suddenly she wasn't tired anymore. She was awake, alert, her mind racing ahead.
*What would it be like? What would he plan? Would he follow any rules at all, or would he just... be himself?*
She thought about the control group and the variable. About her scientific method. About how the control group had been an unmitigated disaster, a textbook example of how not to make someone feel special or seen or wanted.
*But what about the variable?*
What would Goku do differently? Everything, probably. He didn't know the rules. He'd never read the magazine. He didn't follow social scripts or worry about proper timing or acceptable distance.
He just... did what he wanted.
And somehow, that three-minute interaction at the café, with her angry, with another woman present, with Yamcha standing right there, had felt more real, more intense, more *something* than the entire day she'd just spent with Yamcha.
Bulma fell back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, a smile slowly spreading across her face despite her exhaustion.
*Tomorrow.*
Whatever happened tomorrow, it wouldn't be boring.
It would be Goku. Which meant it could be anything.
*What are you going to show me?* she thought, as if he could hear her across the distance. *What's a real date supposed to feel like?*
Bulma closed her eyes, still smiling, and for the first time all day, she felt something close to peace.
*See you tomorrow, Goku.*
—
Bulma couldn't sleep.
She'd tried.. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw *him*. That knowing smirk. Those piercing eyes. The way his large hand had enveloped hers, fingers trailing across her palm like fire.
The bracelet on her wrist felt heavier than it should.
She tossed. She turned. She stared at the ceiling. She checked her phone, 1 AM. Then 2 AM. Then 3 AM.
*It's just a fake date. Just a demonstration. For science. There's nothing to be nervous about.*
The lie didn't help.
Around 4 AM, exhaustion finally, mercifully dragged her under.
And then she dreamed.
She was back at the café terrace, but this time it was just the two of them. No Yamcha. No mysterious woman. Just Goku sitting across from her with that maddening smile.
"Come here," he said, and it wasn't a request.
She found herself standing, walking around the table without deciding to. He pulled her down onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, one arm around her waist, solid and warm.
"Those hands~" she heard herself whisper, echoing words she'd never actually said aloud.
His other hand came up, cupping her face. So large her entire cheek disappeared in his palm. Rough against her soft skin. Thumb brushing her lower lip.
"Is this what you wanted?" His voice was lower, darker, intimate in a way that made her stomach flip.
She couldn't speak. Could only nod.
His hand slid from her face down her neck, across her collarbone, lower—
The sensation was so vivid, so *real*, that her body responded like it was actually happening. Heat pooled low in her belly. Her breathing quickened. Her back arched slightly into the touch.
"Say my name," dream-Goku commanded, his mouth at her ear.
"Goku," she breathed.
"Again."
"Goku..."
His hands were everywhere now, her waist, her thighs, tangling in her hair. Each touch left trails of fire. She was burning up, drowning in sensation, completely lost to—
Bulma jolted awake.
Sunlight streamed through her curtains, bright sunlight, the kind that meant it was late morning, not dawn.
She lay there for a moment, disoriented, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her skin felt feverish. Her breathing was irregular.
*Oh no.*
Slowly, cautiously, she looked around her room. The clock on her nightstand read 11:47 AM.
Her eyes went wide.
*CRAP!*
She tried to sit up and immediately froze.
Something felt… Uncomfortable. Wet.
Heat flooded her face as realization.
*Oh god. Oh god no. Did I—*
She lifted the bed sheets slightly, peeking underneath, and immediately dropped them again. Her face went from pink to scarlet in record time.
*I did. I absolutely did. I had a— because of a dream about— oh my god I'm going to die of embarrassment.*
She launched herself out of bed like it was on fire, desperate to get to the bathroom, to shower, to wash away the evidence of her incredibly inappropriate unconscious response to—
She yanked open her bedroom door and practically sprinted down the hall.
"OCCUPIED!" Mai's voice called from behind the bathroom door.
Bulma skidded to a stop, hand on the doorknob. "Mai?! What are you doing in there?!"
"Getting ready!" came the reply, followed by Lunch's voice: "We need at least another fifteen minutes!"
"FIFTEEN MINUTES?!" Bulma pounded on the door. "What are you doing?! Are you planning something?! Anyway, EMERGENCY! LET ME IN!"
The door cracked open and Chi-Chi's face appeared in the gap, taking in Bulma's disheveled appearance, sleep-mussed hair, flushed face, desperate eyes.
"They're getting ready for your date with Goku," Chi-Chi said.
Bulma blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Chi-Chi just lifted her shoulders in a shrug, her expression unreadable.
Behind her, through the crack in the door, Bulma could see Mai applying mascara with precision while Lunch worked on her hair with a curling iron. Both were already dressed, Mai in a cute sundress, Lunch in fitted jeans and a crop top.
They looked good. Suspiciously good. Date-ready good.
"Why are you guys—" Bulma started, but Mai cut her off.
"Thirty minutes, Bulma! We promise!"
The door shut firmly in her face.
Bulma stood there, thighs pressed together uncomfortably, face burning, anxiety and embarrassment warring for dominance in her chest.
*This is a nightmare. This is an actual nightmare.*
The shower, when she finally got access to it, was a forty-minute affair.
Not because she was taking her time. Because she kept spiraling into panic.
*What am I going to wear? What if I'm awkward? What if yesterday was a fluke and today is terrible? What if he can somehow tell I had a dream about him? What if I had a dream about him and he can read minds? Oh god, what if he can read minds—*
"BULMA!" Mai's voice through the door. "You've been in there for forty minutes! He's going to be here soon!"
That got her moving.
She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, and sprinted back to her room.
Clothes everywhere. Nothing looked right.
*It's a fake date. It doesn't matter what I wear. Except it does matter because I need to look good but not like I'm trying to look good but also not like I'm not trying at all—*
Finally she settled on something—a light blue sundress that hugged her curves but wasn't overtly sexy, paired with sandals that showed off her painted toenails. Casual but cute.
Makeup took another twenty minutes. Not too much. Just enough to look naturally pretty. Which ironically required significant skill.
By the time she was done, she looked in the mirror and saw someone who appeared calm, collected, ready.
The reflection was a liar.
Inside, she was a mess of nerves and residual arousal and embarrassment and anticipation all tangled together into an anxious knot in her stomach.
She checked her phone: 12:43 PM.
*He'll be here at one, right? That gives me time to have coffee, eat something, maybe calm down—*
The doorbell rang.
*He's early. Of course he's early. Why would anything go smoothly today?*
Panchy hummed to herself as she walked toward the front door, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Coming~!" she called in her perpetually cheerful voice.
She opened the door expecting Yamcha again, sweet boy, if a bit dense, and instead found herself looking at a torso.
A very well-built torso.
Her eyes traveled upward.
White sneakers, sockless, revealing strong ankles. Grey dress pants that fit perfectly, hugging long, powerful legs in a way that was just this side of indecent. A white polo shirt that clung to a broad chest and shoulders, the fabric stretched across muscle in a way that suggested both strength and style.
Everything looked expensive. Designer. The kind of outfit you saw in fashion magazines, not standing on your doorstep.
Her gaze finally reached his face.
Handsome, devastatingly so. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones and those eyes, dark, intense, with a hint of amusement at her obvious appraisal.
He gave her a little smirk.
The hair, the build, something about the facial structure reminded her vaguely of—
No. Couldn't be.
Then she saw it.
Behind him, swaying lazily in the afternoon breeze, a long, thick, brown monkey tail.
Panchy's eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Long time no see, Ma'am Panchy," he said, and that voice, deeper now, mature, but with that same playful edge.
"Goku?!" The name came out as a squeal. "Is that really you?!"
She didn't wait for an answer. She launched herself at him, arms around his torso, because that was as high as she could reach now, hugging him with genuine delight.
"You got so much bigger!" She pulled back to look up at him, having to crane her neck. When did little Goku become this towering, gorgeous man?
His tail swayed behind him, then curved around, the soft fur brushing against her arms where they held him.
The sensation sent an involuntary shiver through her body.
Her face flushed. Her breathing hitched.
Without thinking, her hand reached out and caught the tail delicately, feeling the muscle underneath the soft fur, remembering.
*Three years ago. That night.*
"You've gotten a lot bigger too~" she breathed, her voice coming out huskier than intended, her mind definitely not on his height.
Goku returned the hug, his large arms easily encompassing her small frame.
The role reversal wasn't lost on either of them. Three years ago, she'd been the one towering over little Goku. Now he could rest his chin on top of her head if he wanted to.
"Panchy?" Dr. Briefs' voice came from inside the house. "Who is it?"
He emerged from his lab, adjusting his glasses, and stopped short at the sight of his wife wrapped around a tall, well-dressed stranger with a monkey tail.
His expression didn't change. "You're jumping into strangers' arms now?"
"Shush, you silly man!" Panchy swatted at him without letting go of Goku. "It's little Goku! Look how big he got!"
Dr. Briefs squinted, then his eyebrows rose fractionally, which for him was the equivalent of shocked surprise. "Goku? Well I'll be damned." He walked closer, examining him like an interesting specimen. "The growth spurt is remarkable. And the fashion sense. Interesting development."
"Don't just stand there!" Panchy pulled Goku toward the house. "Come in, come in!"
Goku stepped inside, his footsteps heavy, confident. His tail swayed behind him with each step.
Panchy's eyes tracked it. Her breathing was becoming irregular.
"So," Dr. Briefs said, already walking ahead of them toward the kitchen, "what brings you by today, my boy?"
"I'm here for Bulma," Goku said easily. "I promised to take her on a date. Well, not a real date. It's... complicated."
Panchy stopped walking so abruptly that Goku bumping into her.
Her head whipped around, eyes wide and sparkling with sudden interest. "What?!" She grabbed his arm, pulling it deliberately between her breasts, pressing close. "Me too! Next is me! Take me on a fake date too!"
"You're going to take my wife too?" Dr. Briefs said from ahead, his tone completely nonchalant. "Not that I'm against it. Go ahead. She's always destroying my inventions anyway. Might as well have some fun."
*What the hell is wrong with them?* Goku thought, not for the first time.
He turned his head to look at the woman clinging to his arm. Her cleavage was right there. Her eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated, breathing hard. The look on her face was unmistakable.
*She's serious. She actually wants*
"Pleaaase~" Panchy breathed, the word dripping with suggestion.
But she was looking at him with such hopeful desire, and she'd always been kind to him, and—
*And this is exactly the kind of situation my past-life self would have gotten into and enjoyed way too much.*
"Okay, okay, Ma'am," he relented, gently extracting his arm. "Maybe someday."
Panchy glowed with delight.
They reached the kitchen. Dr. Briefs disappeared back into his lab, already bored with the whole situation. Panchy busied herself making coffee, humming happily, shooting Goku looks.
Thirty minutes passed.
Then—
"HURRY MOM! I NEED COFFEE AND SOMETHING TO EAT BEFORE GOING!"
Bulma's voice preceded her entrance like a thunderclap.
She stormed into the kitchen, not looking at anything except the table, and threw herself into a chair. She pulled out a compact mirror and started fussing with her hair, her makeup, her everything, making micro-adjustments.
She hadn't noticed Goku standing in the corner. Hadn't noticed her mother's disheveled appearance or flushed face. Hadn't noticed anything except her own reflection and her mounting anxiety.
"Uuuh, honey-" Panchy started.
But Goku had already moved.
He held up a finger to his lips, giving Panchy a conspiratorial smirk that said *don't say anything*.
Panchy bit her lip, nodding, practically vibrating with excitement to see what he'd do.
Goku moved silently behind Bulma, impressive for someone his size, and picked up the coffee Panchy had just finished making. He set it down in front of Bulma with careful precision.
She didn't look up. Didn't notice the large, masculine hand that had placed it there.
"I need something to eat too! Hurry!" she demanded, still staring at her mirror, adjusting her eyeliner for the third time.
Goku grabbed one and set it on a plate, bringing it to the table.
Bulma picked it up absently, still completely absorbed in her reflection, tilting her face this way and that.
Goku bent his knees, lowering himself until he was almost at her head level. His face appeared in her compact mirror behind her reflection.
"No need for so much," he said, his voice low and amused. "You look good."
The effect was instantaneous.
Bulma's eyes went wide in the mirror. The compact fell from her hand. She made a sound, something between a squeak and a gasp, and jerked sideways so violently that she tipped her chair.
She was falling.
Goku's arm shot out, catching her. He pulled her upright, one arm around her waist, steadying her against him.
She was small in his grip. Tiny. Her hands had flown up to her chest defensively, eyes enormous, looking up at his face with an expression of pure shock.
They were very close. Close enough that he could smell her shampoo, something floral. Close enough that her rapid breathing made her chest rise and fall against his arm.
"I haven't even started my boyfriend-for-rent duties yet," he said, that teasing edge in his voice. "This is extra."
For a moment, she just stared at him, lips parted, face flushed, completely frozen.
Then her brain rebooted.
She pulled herself away from him abruptly, puffing out her cheeks indignantly, turning her face away with exaggerated huffiness.
"You better do a good job today!" she snapped, trying to sound imperious and mostly just sounding flustered.
Goku straightened up, smiling.
"This attitude used to piss me off," he said, almost to himself. "But now I find it cute."
Bulma's face went from pink to scarlet. She spit out the sip of coffee she'd just taken.
"I'll wait for you outside," Goku said, already heading for the door before she could recover enough to respond.
Goku closed the kitchen door behind him and found himself face-to-face with Mai and Lunch.
He stopped short.
They were stunning. Both of them. Mai in her sundress that brought out her dark eyes, Lunch in jeans that hugged her curves and a top that showed just enough skin to be enticing. Hair perfect. Makeup perfect. They looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
"Oh," Goku said, genuinely surprised. "What's up? Why do you look so good? Y'all going on dates too?"
They exchanged glances, then looked back at him with practiced casual smiles.
"Yes, kinda~" they said in unison, their voices pitched in that way girls do when they're trying to sound confident and flirty.
City girl voices. The kind of affectation his past-life self would have seen through immediately.
*They're lying. There are no dates. They dressed up to make Bulma jealous. Or maybe to catch my attention. Or both.*
Goku's expression shifted. The playful smirk faded into something more serious. More genuinely concerned.
"Look," he said, and his voice had changed too, dropping the teasing edge, becoming more direct. "This might be overstepping, but... I want to meet them."
Mai blinked. "What?"
"Your dates. The guys taking you out." His eyes moved between them with real intensity. "I want to see if they're good enough for you."
The statement landed like a bomb.
Mai's practiced composure crumbled. Lunch's confident smile wavered. Both of them stared at him with wide eyes, faces slowly flushing.
It was devastatingly effective.
"There's... no one..." Mai whispered, the lie dissolving under his concern.
"We just wanted to..." Lunch couldn't finish the sentence.
They were melting. Literally melting, shoulders dropping, eyes getting watery, the emotional walls they'd put up completely disintegrating in the face of his sincere care.
*Damn it,* both girls thought simultaneously. *How is he so...*
"Goku."
The voice cut through the moment.
All three turned to see Chi-Chi standing at the end of the hallway, her posture tense.
"Can we talk for a moment, Goku?" It wasn't really a question.
Goku looked at Mai and Lunch, who both nodded quickly, still too emotionally overwhelmed to speak. He followed Chi-Chi toward the front door, stepping outside into the afternoon sun.
The door closed behind them, leaving them alone on the front porch.
Chi-Chi stood with her back to him for a moment, gathering her thoughts, her courage. Then she turned, her hands clasped together in front of her like she was about to pray or make a formal appeal.
"Goku," she started, her voice steady despite the emotions churning in her chest. "What are you planning to do?"
"About what?" Goku's response was immediate, his tone genuinely confused.
"Those girls." Chi-Chi's hands tightened their grip on each other. "They're deeply in love with you. Mai and Lunch are at a stage where they don't even care if you already have someone. Bulma is heading the same way. And I haven't even mentioned Kakarot." She took a breath. "You have five girls after you. That's what I'm talking about."
Goku's usual smirk faded. That playful, confident mask he wore so easily slipped away.
He put his hands in his pockets and moved to sit on the porch railing, crossing one leg over his knee. For a long moment, he didn't say anything.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "I don't know."
Chi-Chi said nothing, just moved closer, giving him space to continue.
"I know about their feelings," Goku said, not meeting her eyes. "You know that, right? I'm pretty good at reading people. Too good, maybe." He let out a bitter laugh. "And I use it. To get what I want. Sometimes consciously. Sometimes..." He shook his head. "Sometimes it's just habit. Reflex. Like now."
He finally looked up at her, and his eyes were intense, piercing.
"I can see that you have feelings for me too."
Chi-Chi's breath caught. Her face flushed, but she didn't look away.
"Less intense than them," Goku continued, his voice analytical. "And you're conflicted about something. There's a hesitation." He tilted his head slightly. "And then I can manipulate you to-"
"Stop."
Chi-Chi's hands shot out, grabbing his hand where it rested in his pocket. She pulled it free, held it between both of hers.
Goku fell silent, looking intrigued by her sudden boldness.
Her eyebrows were drawn together, her face set with determination even as color flooded her cheeks.
"My feelings are genuine!" Her voice came out fierce, almost angry. "Don't you dare doubt them! That day seven years ago, I knew. I knew you were the right one." She squeezed his hand tighter. "And how could you have manipulated me then? You barely spoke to me! You were just... you were just you, and that was enough!"
Goku stared at her, caught off-guard. He wasn't used to being challenged like this.
His eyes drifted downward, fixing on her lips.
Those small, pink lips moving passionately, forming words of conviction, defending her own heart against his cynicism.
His breath quickened without his permission.
*What is this? Why am I—*
"But manipulation isn't just words," he managed to say, though his usual confident tone had vanished. His voice came out rougher, less controlled.
He couldn't stop looking at her mouth.
Chi-Chi noticed. Of course she noticed. The power dynamic that had started with him in control had somehow shifted.
"I said no!" Her voice dropped lower, became more intimate. "I am not under your spell. With my genuine heart, with everything I am- I love you!"
The declaration hung in the air between them.
Chi-Chi's eyes widened as she registered what she'd just said. The words that had burst out in the heat of the moment, that she'd meant to keep locked away until the right time.
But she'd said them. And she couldn't take them back.
So she committed.
Her face moved closer to his. "Let me prove it to you~"
She was approaching his face, moving slowly but deliberately. Intent clear in every inch she closed between them.
Goku's body reacted on pure instinct. His head tilted to the side, muscle memory from a past life, from a time when he'd done this countless times. His lips parted slightly in preparation.
Chi-Chi, inexperienced and running on courage alone, kept her lips closed as she moved in, not quite knowing the mechanics, just knowing she wanted, needed, to show him that her feelings were real, that she wasn't just another girl caught in his orbit.
Their breath mingled in the narrow space between them. Hot against each other's lips. Hearts pounding. Time slowing to a crawl.
—
*SLAM!*
"GOKU!! I'M READY!!"
Bulma's voice exploded across the porch as she burst through the front door with all the subtlety of a hurricane.
Chi-Chi jumped like she'd been electrocuted.
Goku's head snapped toward the noise.
Bulma stood in the doorway, looking proud of herself, one hand on the door frame, striking a pose. She looked to her right where the noise had come from and spotted them.
Goku was sitting on the porch railing. Chi-Chi was standing in front of him, very close. Too close. Her face was bright red. Sweat beaded at her temples. Breathing hard.
"What's wrong with her?" Bulma asked, genuinely confused by Chi-Chi's expression.
Chi-Chi didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Without a word, she turned and ran back into the house, disappearing so fast she might as well have teleported.
Bulma blinked, watching her go. "Huh. That was weird."
Goku stood up smoothly, brushing off his pants, and lips, his face already back to its usual composed expression.
"Don't know," he said casually. "You ready?"
Bulma grinned and threw up a peace sign, her earlier nervousness apparently forgotten in her excitement. "Ready!"
He started walking toward the exit, Bulma following close behind.
"So before we start," he said, stopping suddenly and turning to face her.
She bumped into his chest.
"Everything that happens today is pretend. Just so there's no confusion about—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know!" Bulma interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "Now come on, let's start already. You're my boyfriend for the day!"
Goku sighed, looking up at the sky.
"This isn't gonna end well."
The car pulled away from her house.
"So what's the plan?" Bulma asked, trying to sound casual.
Goku glanced at her, a slight smirk playing at his lips. "You'll see."
"That's not an answer."
"Sure it is. Just not the one you wanted." He was teasing her, that playful edge in his voice.
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. Behind them, three girls crammed into Mai's car followed at what they hoped was a discreet distance.
"I still can't believe we're doing this," Mai muttered.
"Educational purposes," Lunch said with a grin. "Totally scientific."
Chi-Chi said nothing, just watched the back of Goku's head through the windshield, touching her lips unconsciously.
—
The Zoo
Goku led the way through the entrance gates, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding their tickets. He moved with easy confidence, like he owned the place.
Bulma hurried to keep up in her heels, her sundress swishing around her legs.
"Could you slow down ?" she complained. "Not all of us have giant legs."
He glanced back with that infuriating smirk. "Not my fault you dressed like you're going to a cocktail party."
"I look cute!"
"Never said you didn't." He stopped walking, letting her catch up.
Her face flushed. "Well excuse me for wanting to look nice for our- for this-" She caught herself. "For today!"
"Uh-huh." His smirk widened. "Come on, Princess. Let's see if we can find some animals as high-maintenance as you."
"I deserve to be high-maintenance!"
"Yes my queen." He said, rolling his eyes and started walking again, heading toward the primate exhibit.
She swatted his arm. He didn't even flinch, just kept walking with that annoying confident stride.
She swatted his arm, and the gesture felt so natural it caught her off guard. Yesterday with Yamcha, even holding hands had felt wrong. But annoying Goku? That felt right.
---
They stopped at the glass enclosure where several monkeys were swinging from branches and playing.
Bulma pressed close to the glass, watching them with fascination despite herself. "They're actually kind of cute."
"Yeah?" Goku leaned against the railing beside her, arms crossed. "Which one reminds you of me?"
She turned to glare at him. "The one picking bugs off the other monkey and eating them."
Goku was grinning. "I was thinking more..." He pointed to a monkey grooming another one gently. "That one. Taking care of someone."
Bulma's breath caught slightly. She looked away quickly. "You wish. You're clearly that one." She pointed to a monkey stealing food from another.
"So I steal your food?" He leaned closer, voice dropping. "Or steal something else?"
Her face went bright red. "I- you- stop saying things like that!"
"Like what?" Pure innocence in his tone, but that teasing glint in his eye.
"Like- never mind!" She marched away toward the next exhibit.
He followed, hands in pockets,smiling.
---
The tiger paced in its enclosure, powerful and graceful.
"Now that's beautiful," Bulma breathed, watching it move.
"Dangerous though," Goku said, standing just behind her. Close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Beautiful things usually are."
She glanced back at him. He wasn't looking at the tiger.
He was looking at her.
Her heart did something weird in her chest. "What are you- stop looking at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like- I don't know! Just stop!"
He stepped up beside her, leaning on the railing. "You're the one who wanted a boyfriend experience. Boyfriends look at their girlfriends."
She blushed.
"Oh my god, they're SO CUTE!" Bulma practically squealed, rushing to the penguin exhibit.
Goku watched her light up, genuine joy on her face as she watched the penguins waddle around.
"Look at that one!" She pointed excitedly. "He's so clumsy!"
"Reminds me of you this morning."
"I did NOT see you! I was focused on the mirror!"
"Is that so?"
She turned to snap at him, but he was smiling, and watching her with softness in his expression.
It made her brain short-circuit for a second.
"What?" she managed.
"Nothing." He looked back at the penguins. "You look happy."
Her face heated again. Why did he keep saying things like that? Things that made her feel...
She didn't know what she felt.
"Of course I'm happy," she said, trying to sound normal. "Penguins are objectively adorable. It's a scientific fact."
"Uh-huh."
They stood there together, watching the penguins. Bulma became acutely aware of how close he was standing. Their shoulders almost touching.
---
Bulma stopped at the stuffed animal display, eyes immediately going to a small penguin plush.
Goku noticed. Of course he noticed.
He picked it up before she could say anything. "You want this one."
"I didn't say—"
"You've been staring at it for ten seconds." He stepped closer, examining it. "It's cute. Like you."
Her face heated. "I'm not cute, I'm—"
He was already walking to the register.
"Goku, you don't have to buy me things!"
"I want to." Simple. Matter-of-fact. He pulled out his wallet.
She followed him to the counter, flustered. "But—"
As he paid, his free hand reached back and found hers. Pulled her forward against his side. His arm sliding around her waist naturally.
Her breath caught.
The cashier smiled at them. "You two are adorable! How long have you been together?"
"Not long enough," Goku said smoothly, his hand squeezing her waist.
Bulma's heart hammered. He said it so easily. Like he meant it.
They walked out, his arm still around her. She clutched the penguin, very aware of every point of contact—his hand on her hip, the warmth of him against her side.
"Thank you," she managed quietly. "For the penguin."
"You're welcome." He glanced down at her, and something in his expression made her chest tight. "You really like it?"
"I do."
"Good." His thumb rubbed a small circle on her hip—absent, natural, like he'd done it a hundred times before. "Then it was worth it."
She looked down at the penguin to hide her burning face.
This was what a real boyfriend felt like.
And it terrified her how much she liked it.
---
"Please tell me you didn't pick a romantic drama," Bulma said as they approached the theater.
Goku looked offended. "Do I look like the type to pick a romance?"
"Then what-"
"Action movie. Explosions. Maybe some terrible one-liners. The good stuff."
She laughed. "Okay, I can work with that."
*Yesterday was a boring romance she didn't care about, where Yamcha grabbed her hand at the wrong moment and ruined her daydream about-*
She cut that thought off quickly.
They bought tickets, popcorn, drinks. Found seats in the back, good view, not too crowded.
The lights dimmed. Previews started.
"Want some?" Goku held out the popcorn bucket.
She reached in. Their fingers brushed. Neither pulled away immediately.
The movie started, exactly what he'd promised. Ridiculous action, physics-defying stunts, explosions every five minutes.
"That's not how gravity works," Bulma muttered during a particularly absurd scene.
"Shh, you're ruining the magic," Goku whispered back, grinning.
"There is no magic, it's just bad science-"
"Bulma."
"What?"
"Shut up and watch the explosion."
She hit his arm but settled back in her seat, smiling.
Halfway through, during a tense scene, she tensed up. Goku's hand found hers on the armrest between them, not grabbing, just... there. Present.
She laced her fingers through his without thinking.
They stayed like that for the rest of the movie.
*Yesterday Yamcha's hand felt wrong. Clammy. Unwanted. This feels...*
Natural. Right. Like it belonged there.
When the credits rolled and the lights came up, they separated slowly, reluctantly.
"Good movie," Goku said, standing and stretching.
"Terrible physics," Bulma countered, but she was smiling.
"Best terrible physics you've ever seen though."
"I'll give you that."
---
They arrived at the café terrace, claiming a table at the front overlooking the horizon. The city sprawled below them, golden in the late afternoon light.
Goku leaned back in his chair, leg crossed casually, watching her from the corner of his eye.
Bulma was still feeling phantom traces of his fingers tangled with hers. She caught herself smiling at nothing, staring at the view without really seeing it.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. His own smile tugged at his lips. *She's enjoying this*, he thought.
"Well," he said, breaking her reverie. "What are your thoughts so far on a 'real' date?"
She snapped out of her melancholia, looking up at him with practiced indifference. "Ah-!? No-nothing special. You're basically doing everything one-to-one. Not very original."
She threw the words at him like a challenge, her typical deflection.
Goku chuckled, knowing exactly what she was doing. "Oh? Really?" He leaned forward slightly. "Then let's call it a day. I was wrong, couldn't show you a real date after all. You should finish this date with yamcha."
The thought of replacing Goku with yamcha, the whole day, every moment, sent a chill through her spine.
"Stop joking!" She sat up straighter. "You're not getting out of this. You promised me a full date, so commit to it fully!"
"Fully?" His smile turned dangerous. "We push the pretend line further?"
She blushed but lifted her head proudly. "Of course! It's pretend! And I'm allowing you to act like a real boyfriend to me. Be honored."
His eyebrow went up. "Honored?"
She put her hand on her chest dramatically. "Yes, honored! I'm beautiful, perfect body, perfect personality, rich, everything everyone wants to be and wants for themselves."
Goku just looked at her, something soft tracing across his face. Not his usual smirk or teasing expression. Something warmer, appreciative.
"I think you've grown on me, Bulma," he said suddenly, genuinely.
Her eyes widened, face flushing. "Wh- yo- I- mea-"
"Did I fluster you?" The side smile was back, but his eyes were still soft.
"Wha- you! You always play these games!" She waved her hand dismissively. "Of course you'd fall for me, like I said!"
She brushed it off as his usual joke, but the words had been genuine. Even he seemed surprised they'd slipped out.
---
"Okay," he said, standing suddenly. "Let's get back in it. I'm your boyfriend."
She twitched, ready to slip back into the role.
He put his hands under the table and lifted it with ease, pushing it further away. Then he grabbed his chair, repositioning it to face the horizon directly.
Bulma watched, confused, as he approached her, still seated.
"If you'll excuse me," he murmured, grabbing the sides of her chair.
He lifted it, with her in it, like it weighed nothing, placing her right next to his chair.
He sat down, their shoulders touching as they both faced the sunset.
He was so much bigger than her, solid and warm.
"It's pretend," he said quietly, then slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him.
She was tense at first, blushing furiously. But the longer she stayed, the more right it felt. Easy. Like coming home.
Her head found his collarbone naturally. His chin brushed her forehead.
She looked up, studying his sharp jaw from this angle. He looked down, catching her gaze, and smiled.
She couldn't smile back—too flustered, too aware. His mouth was so close she could feel his breath. Her lips parted, breathing shallow.
They stayed like that, suspended in time.
His free hand found hers, covering it completely. His thumb rubbed delicate circles on her skin, hypnotic and gentle.
The world narrowed to just this—his warmth, his scent, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her.
---
"Bulma," he said softly, finally. "Time to go."
It was like an alarm jolting her from the most perfect dream.
She pulled back abruptly, rubbing her eyes, smoothing her hair like she'd actually been sleeping. And maybe she had been, lost in something that felt too good to be real.
Goku stood, extending his hand to her.
She looked at it for a moment, that hand that had been driving her crazy all day, before taking it, letting him pull her up.
"Let's go," he said simply.
But he didn't let go of her hand as they walked to the car.
And she didn't pull away.
---
As they drove, Bulma stared out the window, her mind drifting.
*Zoo, movie, coffee. Same as yesterday. Aquarium, restaurant, movie, café. Same structure. Same activities, basically.*
The thought circled in her mind, not quite landing.
*So why was yesterday torture and today...*
*Why did time crawl with Yamcha and fly with Goku?*
*The activities were the same. The order was the same. So what's different?*
The answer hovered at the edge of her consciousness, close but not quite there.
*The variable...*
But the thought slipped away, lost in the comfortable silence of the car, the warmth of the day still glowing in her chest.
She didn't quite grasp it yet.
But somewhere deep down, her subconscious knew.
*It's not what you do. It's who you're with.*
The city lights blurred past. Bulma's head felt pleasantly tired, the good kind of exhaustion that came from a full day.
The car pulled up to her house. Engine idling. Neither moved immediately.
This was it. End of the fake date. End of the experiment.
*So why don't I want it to end?*
Goku walked her to the door. They stood facing each other on the porch, the outside light casting shadows across his face.
Awkward silence.
Bulma touched the bracelet on her wrist, the one he'd given her yesterday at the café.
"So..." she started, then stopped. "This is where... I mean, protocol says..."
"Protocol says the date ends with a kiss," Goku finished.
Her heart kicked against her ribs. "W-well, you're still my boyfriend. For today. You should commit to the role."
*Weak. That sounded so weak.*
Goku took a step closer. "Bulma." His voice was serious now, no teasing. "Are you sure you want to kiss?"
"It's just pretend," she whispered. The lie was transparent.
Goku's hand came up, cupping her jaw. His thumb brushed her cheek. "Just pretend," he echoed quietly.
Bulma didn't wait for him to decide. She surged up on her toes, too fast, too eager, and pressed her lips to his.
Too hard at first. Clumsy angle. Their noses bumped.
She adjusted, tried again, and this time their mouths aligned. She'd never done this before and it showed. Her lips were closed, then she remembered, *you're supposed to—*
She opened her mouth, too much. Her tongue darted out experimentally, awkward and uncertain.
"Sorry," she mumbled against his mouth, but didn't pull back.
Goku made a low sound, surprised, amused, and then he took over.
His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. His hand on her jaw guided her gently, slowing her frantic pace. He tilted his head, showed her the rhythm, patient and sure.
*Oh. Oh, this is-*
She melted into him, following his lead. The kiss shifted from chaotic to something that made her knees weak. Her hands fisted in his shirt, holding on.
When they broke apart, breathless, foreheads touching, Bulma's eyes fluttered open to find his half-lidded, dark with heat.
Goku's thumb swept across her swollen lip.
He smiled, and she did, then embarrassed she ran in her house and went to her room.
Upstairs, Bulma collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, fingers ghosting over her lips. The kiss replayed endlessly, Goku's mouth, warm and certain against hers. Her thumb traced where he'd been, pressing gently, smiling and blushing.
Chi-Chi lay on her back, in her room, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above. Her fingertips rubbed slowly across her lower lip, remembering this morning kissing Goku, then cupped her face with her hands.
Goku stood in front of the Capsule Corp house alone in the night, remembering Bulma's and Chi-Chi's clumsy kiss. He smiled and turned to leave, then paused. It was late. He turned back and entered the Brief house.
The massive house was silent at this hour, everyone likely asleep. He walked down the corridor searching for a guest room, remembering the last time he'd accidentally stumbled into Bulma's parents' bedroom. He tried every door, but each room was filled with mechanical parts and electronics from Dr. Briefs' and Bulma's various projects.
"Isn't that Goku?" a voice called out. "How was the experiment with Bulma?"
Goku turned to see Dr. Briefs approaching through the dim hallway, cigarette smoke curling around him, coffee mug in hand.
"Doc. Well, you'd have to ask her. A maiden's heart is something strange," Goku said, knowing exactly what was in her heart even if she didn't yet.
"Coffee at 11 PM? Bold," Goku observed.
"I don't sleep at night. It's the only time Panchy isn't a walking tornado," Dr. Briefs said with a tired chuckle. "Except for that one day when she was too tired and didn't wake up early... three years ago, was it? Curious how memory works."
Goku was half-listening, his mind drifting toward the promise of a good bed. "Damn, that's crazy... By the way, don't you have an unoccupied bedroom? I need to sleep."
Dr. Briefs started walking, Goku following. "All our guest bedrooms are currently occupied by your girlfriends. Why don't you join one of them?"
Goku made a face. "I'd rather not. I don't feel like being alone with any of them right now."
"Well, there's my spot. I won't be using it tonight, I'll be in the lab."
Goku's eyebrow rose, thinking about Panchy for a moment, but he brushed it off. What kind of man would let another man sleep in the same bed as his wife? They probably had separate bedrooms anyway.
"Lead the way, Doc!"
After a few minutes walking through the gigantic house, they arrived at a bedroom door.
"This is it," Dr. Briefs said nonchalantly, hunched over his coffee.
"Thanks, Doc," Goku said, advancing toward the door.
Dr. Briefs started walking away, then paused. "I just remembered what happened the day Panchy didn't wake up early..." He took a sip of coffee. "Please, go all out."
He continued walking, muttering, "Crap, my coffee got cold."
Goku stared after him, confused, then pushed the door open with a big sigh.