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supersaiyanjisoo · 2 years ago

Note

"There's no shame in crying. I promise." (Cheelai to Broly) All the fluff, with some angst. Please??

Anon, I'm so sorry, you waited more than two months for this... I really have no excuse. I hope you will be able to enjoy this still, and thank you for your request and patience!

Wet Towels, Broth and Trust

Rating: G

Warnings: Sickfic/Sick character, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Also on AO3!

“Mmh. Cheelai was right. Your temperature is quite high.”

Lemo let out a sigh, shaking the little device he stuck into Broly’s mouth minutes prior– which was apparently called a thermometer.

Broly frowned. “But– what does it mean?”

“It means you’ve got a fever. That you’re sick.”

The word reverberated within his skull a few times. He ended up nodding absentmindedly as Lemo disinfected the thermometer with a wipe. By the side of the bed, Cheelai gave him a bit of a conflicted look, torn between worry and uplifting, her fists clenched upon her knees despite the smile she displayed.

“So, even big guys like you can get sick?” She teased to light up the atmosphere.

Broly’s forehead met the foreign feeling of a wet towel as Cheelai gently applied it on. Though it wasn’t unpleasant, the Saiyan did not know how to react in any other way than to look awkwardly at his hands on the blanket in which he was wrapped in like a child.

To be honest, if it wasn’t for the little woman, he certainly would have never noticed something was wrong with him in the first place.

Ever since leaving Vampa for the second time, which hadn’t been without troubles, he felt a restless feeling stirring in him every now and then. But, wasn’t it to be expected? It would be a lie to say the first time he left the hostile planet did not bring its share of misfortunes.

On the day of departure, he thought himself to be ready; yet he found his breath short, his heart throbbing in his throat and cold sweats trickling down his temples. But then, making him open his eyes abruptly, a warmth spread across the back of his trembling hand. On top of it was Cheelai’s. She shot a confident smile, yes, one that was… What was the word?

Friendly. Reassuring. Comforting.

“Trust me. This time, it’ll be alright.”

So he believed it would be.

However, as days spent between space travels and stopovers for food supplies or secondary duties went on, Broly still couldn't shake that feeling of unease that had penetrated his body. He felt like freezing in place, only to burn hot in his clothes a second later. Yet he endured it in silence, for he was so unfamiliar with the concept of expressing his emotions, as his father used to read him like an open book.

Cheelai was the one to step towards him in that moment, again. She always did.

“Hey, how you’ve been doing up there, big guy?” She slightly grinned at him. “You’ve kinda seemed under the weather lately.”

Broly blinked twice at the question. “There’s no weather in space.” he said, pointing a porthole aside that showed nothing but the infinity of space.

Cheelai could not help but laugh, and he did not get what was so funny about what he said in the first place.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” She gestured to him to bend down to her. “Come down here, I want to check something.”

He had no reason to refuse, and did as asked, but when Cheelai abruptly closed the distance between their heads, he stepped back dramatically.

“Why are you trying to hit me?!”

“Wha– I’m not trying to headbutt you, dummy!” She put her fists on her hips. “Would that even hurt you anyway?”

Broly gave a hesitant look, pretty much unconvinced, came down again nonetheless and let her connect her forehead to his. Surprisingly, hers was much cooler than his. The turmoil in him somewhat subsided to that soothing impression spreading.

But, before he could dwell in the sensation enough to enjoy it, she backed off, drawing a groan from him.

“That’s what I thought! Leftovers at lunch, and now you’re burning like a furnace! Lemo, get the health kit, Broly isn’t feeling well!”

Not feeling well?

He barely had the time to realize what she had said: he was guided to bed by his two friends, overwhelmed with attention in such a way it made him feel kind of awkward. Not to help, the moment Cheelai had stated that he wasn’t feeling well, the heat muted, becoming more tangible than ever and starting to toast his brain. His body could seemingly not decide between hot and cold, and so heavy sweat drops were only rivaled by mad shivers climbing his spine like frost spiders. Yes, he was… Sick.

Lemo shrugged. “Well, I can’t say it wasn't to be expected. Now that we’ve left Vampa, your body must adapt to a lot of new environments, and among them come bacteria and viruses it has never encountered before. Besides, there may still be traces of your fight on Earth… You’re still recovering, though it may not look like it. It’s quite normal that your immune defenses would be weakened.”

Weakened…

“Tch!” Cheelai huffed as she folded her arms, frankly annoyed. “And Goku said that junk he gave us only works on injuries, didn’t he? Geez… What do you think, Lemo?” She turned to her friend. “Wouldn’t it be safer to take him to a doctor?”

He thought out loud, scratching his chin. “Mmh, I’d like to avoid that if possible. A Saiyan never goes unnoticed nowadays and if it tumbles into the Freeza army’s ears, they could see a perfect opportunity to seize and attack us. I doubt Broly would even be in a state to defend himself properly… We’d be an easy target more than anything if taken by surprise.”

Broly’s fists tightened. Sick. Weakened. An easy target…

Each word said put an heavier weight on his sternum, and confused him much more than the fever itself. Their echo within… It brought his voice, father’s voice, to resurface in his feverish brain.

Crying is for weaklings, Broly. You should be ashamed of yourself…

Ashamed… Shame. Yes, that was it.

Right now, he was feeling ashamed of being nothing but a dead weight. Of what use was he if in no measure to defend his friends? Even in health, he could not have saved his own father…

A morbid shadow passed on his face.

Lemo pursued. “Of course, if his state worsens, we’ll have no choice but bring him to a doc. Just seems wiser to wait and watch for now”, he concluded, nodding to himself.

Cheelai agreed and gently tapped the Saiyan’s shoulder. “I’m sure Broly is plenty capable of kicking a virus’ butt in no time! Isn’t that right?!”

The call of his name and contact pulled Broly out of his thoughts. He couldn’t bring himself to share her enthusiasm, but agreed out of habit.

“Yeah... What’s a doctor?” He asked plainly, finally realizing he never heard that word before.

He could see the complete surprise in both his companion’s eyes. It was not the first time one of his questions provoked such a reaction, and though Cheelai did her best to retain herself from saying insensitive words, there had been numerous times where she could not help but exclaim: really, you don’t know what that is?!

Each and every time, it hit him a little more. How little he knew about the world...

“A doctor is a person that specializes in curing people that have diseases or injuries”, Cheelai started to explain. “They give you stuff you have to eat to feel better, like pills, or open your body to fix what’s wrong with it –hey, don’t give me that frightened look! It doesn’t hurt one bit, they make you inhale a gas that makes your body all numb beforehand! And they only do that to the poorest people, now… Healing capsules have become super sophisticated.”

“Right, medecine is practically automated these days… And if someone hadn’t spent a quarter of our money on clothes, we could have even got an automatic diagnosis device”, Lemo added, the tone in his voice leaving little doubt as to who that someone could be.

“Hey!! You spent as much as me, as long as I remember! Sorry I didn’t want me or Broly to rot in those uniforms forever, unlike others!”

“...So you don’t have to worry, Broly”, the other continued, ignoring Cheelai as she stuck her tongue out at him. “The absolute worst you could get is a medicine that tastes like sand, or a shot.”

“A… shot?” Broly arched an eyebrow.

“Yep! They put the cure into a syringe, and inject it into your veins using a needle.”

Broly’s eyes popped open at the mental image of a needle plunging into his arm– for if he did not know what a doctor or a syringe were, the vision of Vampa’s beetles and their hooked tongue remained very vivid in his mind. He backed up towards Cheelai, a very faint whimper escaping his lips, as if Lemo was the one on the point of stabbing him with that Hell-bound needle.

The girl chuckled as she spared him a pat on his back.

“You’ll be alright, Broly! With plenty of rest, you’ll escape the needle just fine!”

As if fate indulged in contradicting her, his lungs and throat started itching and he began coughing. Her hand went up and down his back, a sympathetic pout on her face.

“Maybe some syrup would help?” She suggested, but as soon as she grabbed the bottle amongst the medical kit’s mess and opened it, Broly snatched it out of her hand and swallowed its whole content in bare seconds. Not a single drop was left.

She gasped. “Broly! That could have been dangerous if it hadn’t just been syrup!”

His itching somewhat fading, Broly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s fine. Until now, everything you gave me was good.”

Cheelai’s little mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise before she turned away from him, muttering a flushed “Still!”.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you back up a bit, Cheelai?” Lemo interrupted. He had been careful staying afar from Broly’s bed ever since the conversation started. “This could be contagious, as much as we know.”

She scrunched up her face. “Naaah, it’s fine. I got pretty much everything as a kid. Heck, almost thought I'd been done for twice, but I'm still here! My body’s defenses are used to the deal. I haven’t been ill in years now."

The old man tried to convince her still, with little success. She remained by Broly’s side all while arguing. Meanwhile, her unfortunate patient watched her very intently.

“Mmh? What is it?” She asked when she finally noticed.

“Cheelai… You must be incredibly strong to have survived this so many times…!”

His eyes were sparkling with admiration –if Broly had sometimes been too weak to move, pinned to the ground of a cavern because of either Vampa’s rough life conditions, the exhaustion of training or the stabbing pain of a new wound that was deep enough to leave another scar on his body, it was pretty much the first time he was… sick. It was still new to him, but one thing was for sure: it was not enjoyable. At all.

To win a fight by resting –kicking the virus’ butt, as Cheelai said– and be patient seemed more than oxymoronic to his Saiyan nature. He only knew of himself strong and thriving –and yet, he was now rendered powerless.

Therefore, imagining Cheelai, Cheelai who was so very small and fragile like a porcelain figure compared to him, defeating again and again what put him in such difficulties right now… That impressed him. It truly did.

Meeting his boyish gaze, Cheelai snorted, a proud blush and grin animating her traits. She passed her finger under nose, a hand on her hip. “Well… I guess I am pretty tough, yeah!”

“Please don’t flatter her ego like that, Broly”, Lemo sneaked in. “I don’t want the ship to deviate because of that infatuated head of hers.”

Broly let out a little smile, but instantly stopped when Cheelai puffed in disdain as she adjusted the covers upon his shoulders and straightened them with her palm.

That gesture…

“Sorry, Lemo. We don’t talk to cowards who’re scared of a little flu.”

“When did I say I was scared?”

“Well, why don’t you come and help change Broly’s towel, then? It’s already dry.”

Lemo gulped. “Eer… I-I think I’ll let you handle it this once! You’re closer to the basin, anyway!”

Cheelai let out a mischievous giggle of triumph. “Hey, Broly–”

The end of her sentence was lost in the air. Smothered under soft covers, Ba’s ear lying above them all, and his head on several pillows, Broly was fast asleep. Though he wanted to laugh along with his friends, Cheelai’s simple gesture –her hand smothering the end of the cover, again and again–, had taken him back to the times his father had done the same in his childhood. Fluctuating in his imagination, the hazy memory sometimes reminded him the warmth of Ba’s ear he let himself entirely drown in, only to show his father’s cape the second after, reminiscing even before his friendship with the giant animal.

In the end, he could not pinpoint it exactly, the times that happened, yet he remembered it, the soft pressure of that gigantic, rough hand stroking his hair, giving him a sense of security, and… One would probably call it love.

Slumber had hit him before anyone could react, and as Broly and Cheelai turned down the lights and left the room, nothing but gentle smiles hovered over their face.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

The lights of the corridor behind Cheelai made her shadow stretch from the entrance to the feet of Broly’s bed, her small voice distracting him from his initial contemplation of the void of space through the room’s porthole.

“No, I woke up earlier.”

“Yes, but you’re resting, I mean…”

“...Not really.”

“...What are you doing in the dark, then?”

“I can’t light the room.”

“Huh? You forgot how to do it? You gotta clap your hands, remember?”

“I know that, but I can’t.”

“...Why?”

“When I tried with Lemo, it exploded.”

“...Oh, so that was why he insisted on buying two whole sets of lightbulbs… Erm- try doing it again, very slowly?...”

Broly looked at his palms with what little luminosity came from the corridor, a bit uneasy. He clapped as calmly as he could manage, and yet the sound was deafening enough for the lights to go full power and blind him. Thankfully, his eyes quickly accommodated themselves, and Cheelai’s figure, still in the entrance, greeted him with a smile.

She congratulated him with a flash of her ‘thank you’ gesture, to which he responded… almost perfectly. “See? You did just fine! Phew... I’m sure Lemo exaggerated your condition, he always does. So, got enough of an appetite to care for dinner?”

While talking, she pulled in a trolley on which a huge pot, large enough to feed a whole regiment of soldiers, was standing in a precarious balance. Cheelai had come to know that what she thought was enough to keep her stuffed and satiated for one week was merely an appetizer in Saiyan terms. Really, out of all her years spent meandering in space here and there, they had to be one of the most glutton species she ever encountered.

“I have to warn you though, it’s just broth. It ain’t good to eat greasy stuff in your state.”

Broly sat up straight on his bed and nodded energetically. Ah. Not surprised. Food was still food!

Carefully, Cheelai pushed the trolley further inside, and took an ample bowl which she started to fill after positioning herself on the stool nearing the bed.

“Where is Lemo?” Broly asked as he peered at the open door, expecting to see him appear anytime.

“Fella fell asleep on the job. Good thing autopilot mode got our back, isn’t it? Ah, wait–!”

The instant she had just finished filling the bowl, Broly tried to snitch it away of her hands along the large spoon she held –sick this, sick that, regardless of it his stomach was still rumbling!-, but before he could, Cheelai both backed up and put a foot on his torso to keep him away, all in one movement.

“Oh no, you don’t!” She groaned in her awkward, nearly-acrobatic posture. “I know you, you’ll gulp everything down before I even get the chance to say anything! You back up, sir! Shoo, shoo!”

Broly frowned, but ended up doing as advertised. Cheelai sighed, just glad she hadn’t spilled the burning hot broth on any of them.

“You’ve got to take it slow! How can you even savor your meal if you throw yourself at it?! Oh, wait, I know…”

The Saiyan blinked twice as the little woman got up her stool, put one knee on the mattress. Before she proceeded further, she looked up to him with her almond-shaped, smiley eyes, and asked him in a kind voice: “Allow me?”

Broly hadn’t the merest idea of what she wanted him to allow her for. With the fever still messing and flaring his mind, all thoughts went blank when addressed him with such a soft, gentle gaze.

It was so… She was so…

Without really realizing it, he acquiesced, but it was just his silly squeezing heart’s fault, making him feel weird, and nothing else.

Cheelai helped herself to the bed, and presented to his lips a soup-full spoon with a happy smile. “Come on!”

The gesture still confused him. With quite a bit of difficulty, he had finally learned how to get ahold of both cutlery and chopsticks alongside his two little friends –but how was he supposed to take the spoon without splattering the bed with broth?

“Don’t bother”, Cheelai said when he went in to pick up the spoon. “Today, you can just eat and not worry about the rest. I’ll be your nurse, I guess– so let me take care of you! You better enjoy it, because I won’t do it everyday!”

Her laughters had always been somewhat contagious, but Broly could only address her a shy and clumsy smile as he took the spoon in his mouth. Then another, and another, Cheelai drawing the warm broth from the bowl, then the pot.

If it wasn’t for the vacuum of space and the regular, soft puffs of air Cheelai blew upon the hot liquid, there would be no sounds around them, leaving them in a little bubble of their own. Somehow, each sip he swallowed reminded Broly a bit more of the first time he met her. Oh, for sure, the taste of a chocolate bar and a broth were nowhere near alike, but, in all truth, so were the feelings that agitated him then and now.

He remembered her taking the time to open the packaging, and in that split second of waiting, his stare drifted from the offered food to her face as she turned back to him.

What weird eyes… He wondered, meeting her flamboyant irises, then didn’t give anymore thoughts after she shook the snack.

‘Weird’ was the best word he could come up with to describe what sensation these eyes ignited in him. It made him slightly curious. He had never seen such a vivid color before. All colors Vampa ever offered to the eye were nuances of green and dusty orange, after all.

Yet, what was originally nothing but an object of curiosity became associated with other words over time, and other feelings, which fever only seemed to tremendously exacerbate.

Broly was hence once again disobeying and, instead of enjoying his long-awaited dinner, he kept glancing at Cheelai. At her eyes mostly, of course, but neither were the pearl-like hue of her white hair, the softness of her traits and jaw, or the grace of her ungloved hands spared by his stare. He kept looking so long that what was meant to be the slowest meal of his life seemed to pass way too fast.

He didn't know a person could be so pleasing to the eye, before.

He had come to appreciate Ba's scary figure with time, and associate it with joy then happy and bittersweet memories, but he certainly couldn't fool himself into thinking the beast crimson-blood eyes weren't terrifying.

But Cheelai? Cheelai had always been pretty.

The prettiest... Beautiful.

“Here we go!” She exclaimed when there was nothing left in the pot but thin leftovers of minced vegetables. “Was it that hard?”

He shook his head. Gently, she then raised her arm to wipe some oil in the corner of his lips. Even then, he couldn’t detach his gaze from her, and he felt the heat on his face intensify as she unintentionally grazed his cheek.

“Mmh.” She emitted with a frown. “Your face is still hot.. I’ll refresh your towel, alright?”

As abruptly as it came, the warmth let him as Cheelai slipped off the bed, took his dry towel and went to the basin. Unknowingly followed by Broly’s eyes.

How dismaying it was to be… taken care of.

“Here you go”, Cheelai hummed, applying the fresh towel on his sweaty forehead.

Her hand met his cheek again, sending another shiver. This time, he instinctively jerked out of her way, startling her. A sudden troubled look passed on her face as he now avoided her eyes.

He did not know if he liked it. Being taken care of.

He enjoyed company. He enjoyed resting to a certain extent –a rest that felt like the first ever in his life, a rest that wasn’t plagued by the anxiety of survival, loss of control, the pain of electrocution. He enjoyed the warmth –the good kind of warmth– Cheelai spread so easily in his chest with a single touch of her magic fingers, contrasting with the raging fever that came from within.

And yet, each time he thought it was enjoyable, the image of Father and his own powerlessness flashed in him. Making him feel miserable.

Father then, and now them…

He realized it now. All he was good at was being taken care of. Even if it was in his own way, Father did take care of him. He taught him how to talk. How to survive.

The sole memory of that soft gesture on his chest that would always distill tranquility within him, was enough of a proof for his care.

It did not matter if the sweet touch of warmth and security was replaced with the cold tightness of a collar. It did not.

It was still care. He repeated it to himself. Father took care of him.

...And yet he had failed him as a son.

Broly... Broly was no good to anyone. No good to Father. No good to Ba, either. He was no good to anyone –and now, in this pathetic state where Cheelai wouldn’t let him feed himself, he couldn’t even protect those who had saved his life and had come to… take care of him, whether they admitted it or not, in Father’s stead.

“Hey, what’s with the long face suddenly?” Cheelai called him back to reality.

He considered pretending his fever was simply bothering him, but, no matter how hard he tried, he never managed to resort to lying. Only closing himself off in silence.

Nevertheless, emotions suddenly rolled on his tongue with such fluidity it astonished even himself. To leave the comfort of silence so easily… Surely, his fever was no stranger to this. The words blended in his mind and mouth, coming out only half-thought.

“I’m sorry… For putting you in danger… Not being able to… Protect you and Lemo right now…”

For all response, Cheelai smiled.

“Ah! What danger? Freeza may have eyes everywhere with his minions, but I know for sure he doesn’t know the big Saiyan is pinned down to his bed! Besides, even if we end up having to get you to a clinic and get spotted, I’d rather much take the risk than letting your condition worsen here. We’re ex-Freeza Army soldiers, remember? Okay, sure I wasn’t one for a long time, but it still counts. Fear was pretty much the usual for us. Hell, a little before we found you and your father on Vampa, I was bad mouthing that sucker and, well, when we accompanied you to his room in the ship, I felt like I was gonna piss my pants remembering what I said! Scooters are treacherous little bastards, you know. And yet I’m still here, with you and Lemo, aren't I? Sick or not, I know I'm much safer with you right than any second I passed in that damn army. We're a team! We'll manage our way out somehow, I'm positive!"

She had obviously thrown that fit of blabbers and giggles to distract him from his sudden gloom, but it didn’t remotely uplift his mood. He remained immobile, his eyes downcast.

“Still… Without my strength… Or even without… I’m not any good. If I wasn’t born like his… Even my father… Probably wouldn’t have come for me...”

As he talked, tears formed in the corner of his eye without him even realizing. Somehow, all of it had flown out of his control, in a way he poorly experienced before –blurring his vision, then dripping down his face, the teardrops falling upon Ba’s thick fur. They were small, quiet tears.

The brutal squeal of the stool’s feet rubbing the floor made him cringe.

Her cheeks flushed and her fists tightened alongside her thighs, Cheelai made her steps heavy on the floor as she began to adjust Broly’s pillows, a bit rougher than what she visibly meant to do.

“Put your head on your pillow. You’re too tired to think about all that, it’s not doing you any well. I can tell– you’re not making any sense behind those eyes.”

Unable and unwilling to protest, Broly put his head down, his tears now running across his temples. Though the blur in his eyes, he could make out Cheelai’s figure above him quite well.

“Close your eyes, Broly.”

He closed them with a deep breath, that for once had nothing to do with his coughing.

Shortly after, a soft, delicate pressure pushed down the mattress, and another rested upon his forehead, the thin wet towel being the very only border between him and the alien touch.

His eyes quickly flew open, but a little hand covered them right away, spurring his eyelids to go back to where they were.

“Keep them closed, Broly. Keep them closed.”

She pressed her forehead closer, wiping his tears and her indexes following their trail.

“We all have times of vulnerability, Broly. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, or bad. On the contrary…”

Her whispers were hot and wet to his ears.

“People think one is strong when they can take care of themselves… Or themselves and others. But, what takes real strength… It’s allowing others to take care of you when you need it, and not reject them out of ego or shame. Trusting others, during that time… It’s a strength very few people have. So, don’t reject us, Broly. Nor Lemo, nor me.”

Broly let out a small cough despite himself. The fever, and the warm words that created strange sensations he couldn’t bear to comprehend in him, all of it teased the border of his consciousness.

His tears doubled. It took Broly a moment to get where they came from so suddenly.

It was… tiredness. A good tiredness, with which also came another thing –relief.

His hand flew to his face, aggressively wiping what it could before being rejoined by a light, comforting weight on its back.

“There’s no shame in crying. I promise.”

“Mmh. Broly was right. Your temperature is quite high… Looks like you’ve got yourself a fever.”

Cheelai coughed in defeat, smothered under a sea of covers and pillows, while Lemo flaunted a wry smile as if to say “told ‘ya!”.

At the very least Broly had had the delicacy not to add Ba’s stinky ear to the pile of covers –she meant it with all due respect to the big beast and its Saiyan friend, but damn, no matter how many washes it got, it still stank to no end!

“You can only blame yourself.” Lemo taunted her with tongue click, as if she wasn’t already down the very bottom of shame. “If you two didn’t get so lovey-dovey when Broly was sick…”

“We WEREN’T lovey-dovey!!” Cheelai screeched from the dead (or so did it seem, considering how hoarse her voice was) and raised her fist in protest, followed by her upper body. Broly, who was sitting beside the bed, gently pushed her back down the mattress.

Lemo turned around, raising his non-existent eyebrows. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say, tough girl.”

“Why, you!...”

“Broly, you seem excited enough about this, though.”

The huge Saiyan, now all cured and swell, nodded quickly and nimbly.

“I’m not happy about Cheelai being sick, but…”

“Say, are you two really going to continue talking about me as if I wasn’t just here?”

“...it means I get to take care of her, now. She gets to be all mine.”

Lemo choked on his own spit and a millisecond Broly deadpan dropped that –then bursted out into laughter when Broly blinked at him in disbelief.

“Why are you laughing?”

He turned to Cheelai in confusion, only to get more confused. She was practically hiding herself, covering her very red face with both her hands and whining in embarrassment.

“Broly, for the love of EVERYTHING, don’t say things like that out of the blue!!”

“Huh? What things?”

Cheelai bolted out of her lying position, pointing a finger gun right between the poor guy’s two eyes.

“Oh, really, you DARE act like you have no idea what that means?!”

Broly looked back at her intently, actually genuinely interested in learning what was the issue. “Did I… offend you?”

At the sight of his innocent face –you could draw a question mark above his head and it wouldn’t feel out of place–, Cheelai suddenly lost all her resentment and strength, then melted back into her bedding, shoving her blushing face underneath the covers once and for all.

“...Nevermind…”

It did not take him long to forget the matter anyway. He reached to stroke the little white locks of hair that got past the covers, falling cutely on the humid fabric of the towel.

“I’ll refresh your towel.”

#brolai #broly x cheelai #cheelai #broly #fanfictions requests #my fanfiction #my writing

58 notes · View notes

supersaiyanjisoo · 3 years ago

Note

On behalf of myself and @hayyie , may i also request the prompt: Sweaters -”Don’t show that cute face to just anyone" for Z Broly and Cheelai? 👀👉👈

Thank you for both of your requests! I'm answering this one first because the first one you submitted will be a bit longer, so it'll take me a bit more time. Sorry for the delay!

There also may be incoherence with the original Broly movies bc I haven't watched them in a long time, sorry. I also hope you don't mind language mistakes because there's a tone of it. You can beat me for it

Rating: M

Warnings: AU, angst, toxic relationship, physical abuse, err OOC MUCH?? help

Against his skin, even silk felt cold, rough, sickening.

“Ugh… Gh…”

Cold sweats ran along his spine, streamed down to his loins as groans made their way through gritted teeth. The sheet he clung to in his trembling fist barely resisted a second, and when he tore it off, conscience resurfaced instantly, breaking the slumber.

He jumped awake, his fingers digging holes in the mattress, his face wincing.

“Ah… Gh…”

Broly put a hand on his head in an attempt to hush the growing headache that was getting to him, as the other one searched along the bed for a source of warmth. But all it met was coldness.

“Cheelai!...” He grunted, his taps becoming impatient. “Cheelai!”

Stiffness was all there was in the air, and it grew nothing in him but anger. His nails slowly scratched the place where she was supposed to be. He felt not a hint of warmth nor presence; he bitterly found she was long gone.

Regaining his senses, he instinctively looked for her energy, only to feel it peacefully vibrating a few rooms away. However, this information, which would reassure any ‘companion’, only made the frustration greater.

Exhaling furiously, Broly jumped out of bed and rushed into the corridor. If the door had not been automated, he would have certainly blown it open from the rage alone.

The lousy creatures he met on his way fled away as soon as they saw him and his clenched fists. These people were pitiful, but nobody was enough of a fool to risk themselves around him in this state. Thankfully for them, all he thought of in this instant was Cheelai. Putting down these maggots that disgusted him would be nothing but lost time.

He felt her energy sparkle a little brighter in the meanwhile.

That little wench!...

Among all the repugnant creatures that seemed to proliferate around him, she certainly was the strangest. The most irritating of it all was by far these expressions of her.

The only emotion eyes turned toward him ever expressed was fear and dread. Even his father’s, though he thought he hid it well.

But not her.

Mad enough to play with him and not deal with the consequences. To grimace at him. To frown at him. To pout, even. Teasing. To provoke and despise him, and yet revolve around him like an excited bug around a flame. Why he hadn’t squashed her as such as soon as she began playing that game remained a mystery to him.

Perhaps because among all these diverse expressions, she never showed that fear he took delight in, nor did she spare him a smile. She grinned and beamed to anyone she encountered –anyone but him.

That struck down a nerve.

Especially when he finally found her sniggering in delight, gambling with a couple of maggots that were from the spaceship’s crew, in a storeroom.

“There we go, losers, jackpot’s mine!”

Cheelai giggled and laughed as she embraced the money that laid upon the gaming table, blatantly not noticing the mortified expression of the players. That until the freezing silence that distilled between them made her look up to them and frown deeply.

“Huh? What’s gotten all into you so suddenly?”

She eventually followed their gaze. Needless to say, the sight of the two-meter tall Saiyan with a stare so fierce it seemed he could break them with a blink kept them shut.

Cheelai, on the other hand, just sighed plainly, losing her joyful expression.

“...Damn. I guess it’s useless for me to try to run now, isn’t it?”

Broly said nothing, but the irritated yet still mocking grin he showed was enough of an enlightenment on the question. She sighed again, pushed her chair and stood up, surrendering. Yet before she could put a hand on her totally-legitimately acquired pot, Broly crudely grabbed her arm and began walking up to the front door. The small woman uttered an outraged gasp, he pulled her along.

“Oh, come on! I gained that money fair and square– I’m not even putting on a fight, let me at least–”

No.

He kept walking. In one last desperate attempt, she shot a provocative smirk at the dumbstruck table behind her, all with a pointed finger accusing them when they had done nothing still.

“You better give me back my money, you hear me?! It’s mine, I won it–”

Broly shoved her across the door before she could finish her sentence, not letting go of her, however. On the contrary. His grasp on her was firmer.

They tensed him. All those sarcastic smirks and happy smiles she scattered all the same to the lowest scum, they tensed him.

His fist firm upon her upper arm, he dragged her more than they walked along the spaceships’ corridors. Or rather, he walked and she jogged when she didn’t have to run to follow his pace. It couldn’t be helped: what she did in three steps, he did in one.

“Hey! Hey, slow down, will ya?! Don’t you know that short people have short legs?!”

In all honesty, though he could have simply flung her upon his shoulder like a vulgar sack and arrive much faster, watching her struggle and complain pleased him.

…Pleased him.

How pitiful it all was.

In his current situation, that was as much as he could afford of an entertainment –tssk, just thinking about it was absolutely infuriating. To be reduced to finding a semblance of amusement at night, when his father was asleep and the control device’s effect somewhat wavered, in a weak woman trying to keep up with his pace, almost stumbling in the process, threatening him with hits and words that barely felt like a tickle against his skin. She threw excuses at his face, as if it would ever change anything.

“I was hungry, alright?! You shouldn’t be surprised! You slavers barely give us anything to eat, then they invited me and–”

Slavers? Now that was a big word for someone privileged by chance. Not everyone was allowed to sleep in a wide and comfortable bed, snuggled under the warmth of covers. He could have let her sleep like any of the ships' servants: curled up in a corner, with nothing but her own arms to find a little comfort.

Why she did not try to drag on his favor as soon as she noticed his unusual interest in her was beyond him.

“Ugh, whatever, I don’t even know why I’m trying to argue with you!”

She puffed, avoiding his gaze and finally giving in.

Her always ending up either throwing a fit or childishly ignoring him was always where their fights ended up anyway. Sometimes, he wondered if she ever expected anything more from him than this.

If she did, then she was a fool.

Was she ever to annoy him too much, he could just crush her, couldn’t he? Nobody would ever notice. His father himself wouldn’t care if it did not go further than that, if he did not let himself get drunk on the pleasure of destruction again. He did not care about his son keeping her as a pet, after all.

As far as he knew, she had no family, and as far as friends were concerned, there were none. All that tied the worms working for him and his father in this ship, what they believed to be ‘friendship’ and ‘solidarity’, was simply the fruit of promiscuity and shared hatred for their masters they were too weak to defend themselves against. Were she to disappear, they’d never protest, or even open their pitiful mouths to utter a cry that could be held against them. Because they were weak cowards.

And yet she refused to see it.

He despised those delusions of her to no end, but… that had to be what made her different.

She was undeniably, indisputably weak. Yet she was strong.

And he wanted to see to what extent she could remain so. Yes, that was certainly why she interested him. It was a game of resistance.

He could kill her whenever he wanted, however he wanted to see her break, slowly, day by day, until, finally, she’d freeze in horror, kneel and plead like anyone else. Only then would he lose interest, after this brief moment of bestial pleasure, and he’d finish her.

Not tonight, though. No, she was still resisting. No, he wanted to sleep, first. Sleep, and then he’ll see how far she’ll go down that silly little path of hers.

He wanted her to lose sleep fearing being beside him, a fear not even a nice bed could make up for. Indeed, that’s what he needed.

Nevertheless, when they passed through an intersection, he did not choose the corridor that led to his quarters. Cheelai noticed it, and her voice came back out of the blue:

“Didn’t we just pass by your chamber? Where’re you taking me?”

As always, he did not answer nor let go. They walked for a few minutes still, minutes that felt like an eternity to Cheelai. Then a massive door appeared. Unlike the others they went through until now, it did not automatically open.

A soft, delicate perfume of freshly cooked meat and vegetables wafted near it, caressing Cheelai’s nostrils. She did not even try to hide the drool running down her chin.

“Hey”, she gulped, “isn’t this…”

Broly put his large palm upon the digital scanner attached to the wall. With a single beep, the screen became green, and the door opened.

He let go of her as the door shut behind them.

“Eat,” he ordered bluntly, “then we’ll go back to the chamber.”

He left her stunned then sat on a stool, put his feet on the table in front of it, and chewed on a piece of dry meat that was loafing there. Cheelai watched, and closed her eyes as her brows went up in disbelief.

“You really don’t know anything about women, do you, Broly? Scratch that, you don’t know about people at all.” She sighed. “You’re so bad at basic communication. Can’t you just show a little consideration? Like a ‘I’ll get you to the kitchen’ beforehand? Or just admit you’ll do me a favor? Anything really, other than ‘eat’?”

Broly scoffed.

“A favor? You’re delusional. I’m just making sure you’re not troubling my sleep again tonight.”

“Yeah, right, because your sleep is sooo peaceful whether or not I’m sleeping on your bedding!” She said with a solid dose of sarcasm, raising her arms. “Gu, gha ha, boo hoo, ee, ee! You always sound like an animal in rut!” She exclaimed, putting a hand on her heart to emphasize her imitation of him. “And you’re the one complaining?!”

He stood up abruptly, his eyes shooting daggers, startling her a bit.

“If you are not eating, then I’m taking you back.” He said matter-of-factly, though it was clear in his tone of voice that her words hit a raw nerve.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, geez! I didn’t know it was such a touchy subject. You really have a short fuse.”

He hummed grumpily and settled back down on the stool as Cheelai turned around and served herself a bowl of soup from a still steaming cooking pot. The generous taste of vegetables and spices warming her tongue and belly changed her pouting attitude instantly; a myriad of stars sparkled in her mauve eyes.

She mumbled to herself, “Oh shoot, that’s good.”

She quickly refilled her bowl, though it was not empty yet, as if scared that someone would soon take it away from her, and gulped it down.

Witnessing her messy manners and overly moisturized lips from the corner of his eyes, Broly snorted.

They stayed so, in a moment in silence, each one simply enjoying the midnight snack. It was only when the young woman had emptied her third bowl, let out a happy sigh of solace, and stared back at him curiously, that Broly knew that his moment of peace was over.

“Say… Did something… happen before?”

He arched an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes.

“I mean, no one is born with a sleep THAT tormented. And certainly not a Saiyan.”

His expression darkened, but not for long. He glanced at the door.

“Someone is coming”, he announced abruptly.

“Wha–”

The door opened, and Cheelai went rigid as she looked at it. Thankfully, the stare she met was none other than one of her friend’s, a stubby middle-aged alien lady that worked for the canteen. She glared at her with round eyes.

“Cheelai! How did you get here?!”

It only occurred now to Cheelai that she could not see Broly. Though he had not moved an inch, he was actually sitting at a table in a narrow space that looked more like a forgotten portion of corridor than a corner, and while Cheelai could see him as she was on the same level as him, he was in a total blind spot for the old woman that remained in the kitchen’s entrance, a whole wall comfortably hiding him. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and all he did was continue eating without a single care in the world.

He knew she was calling him a jerk internally, but that wasn’t his problem.

“I, huh, got a special authorization?...” She shrugged.

The lady deposed a pile of dirty dishes down a sink that was thankfully close to the entrance.

“You managed to sneak in again, didn’t you? My goodness…” She sighed. “Do you know what’ll happen if you continue like this? I can’t cover up for you eternally!”

Cheelai emitted a light “mmh-mmh”, at the moment way more concerned about not letting her friend discover Broly’s presence in order not to let her have a heart-attack. Babbling nonsense as she tried to distract the lady in any direction but his. That was quite entertaining for him to watch, honestly.

“Listen”, the woman finally said as she grabbed Cheelai’s shoulders and stared into her eyes –and though she knew her to be considerate, that was quite unsettling for the poor girl as the lady’s eyeballs were pitch black. “I know we gotta stick with one another in this situation.” (She hadn’t wanted to end up here neither, as the entirety of the crew.) “You know you are precious to each of us– you’re like us, but do you know what they'll make of me if they knew I let you in and out as you please?”

“Err, do we need to have that conversation now?”

“Yes, because you don’t listen!”

The lady puffed, but instead of directly giving Cheelai a dressing-down, she turned around the stove and, with a mechanical movement, filled with food clean dishes she added to her second pair of arms. At the same time, she flooded Cheelai with a handful of blames, telling her she was not careful enough, that she just heard that the younger Saiyan –she only called them masters in front of them– had woken up and was looking for her, that they were all on the same boat but that she needed to think of the security of the community first.

It amused Broly, seeing them believe they could unite or something. Against his father? Maybe. Against him? Ah! What a bunch of dreamers.

“You’re lucky I’m in a rush right now”, the woman blurted out when she finally directed back to the entrance, her four arms full of dishes. “By the time I’m back, you better be gone! This man– he’s already terrifying, I don’t even want to imagine him being angry –do you remember what he did to that poor guy that tried to fight back? Oh, I can’t even think about it. It’s bad for my heart. Come on! Shoo, shoo!”

Cheelai protested. “Hey, don’t be so cold-hearted! I feel like you’re kinda forgetting he could kill me as well!”

The woman stared back at her, and blinked. “Oh, who, you? But there’s no way. He’s the nastiest man I’ve ever seen, but each one has their flaws, and him… He likes you too much.”

Cheelai went mute, her eyes wide.

The woman shrugged.

“I know it’s not pleasant for you, but we’ve got to exploit that if we want to get out of here. Hang in there, Cheelai. Oh, by the way, there are some leftovers in the fridge. Take that to your room if you’re too hungry –I’ve got another way to help the others.”

It took a second for Cheelai to take a hold of herself, but when she did, she offered nothing but the brightest smile to her friend, unfortunately her cheeks were now brighter in color. Scratching her head as she tried to hide away her embarrassment, she responded in an unsteady voice:

“R-Really? Thanks! I’ll take the offer!”

Her friend smiled back, and finally, finally exited the room.

Broly said no more, moved no more in his corner. But Cheelai surely refused to think about his train of thought right now.

Each one has their flaws, and him… He likes you too much.

Surely those words would have an impact, and she knew they couldn’t do any good to his oversized ego.

If he ultimately decided, because of those words, that leaving her alive was not worth it, because Saiyans had no flaws, and he above all had no flaws, that he should kill her, right here, right now, then she did not want to think about it.

If she left now, he’d know she guessed, and what he would do then, she did not want to think about it.

No matter which way she looked at it, the only way she could perhaps escape this nightmare-like situation, was acting… natural.

“Man, you really didn’t help, you know?!” She burst out, clenching her fists. “Couldn’t you at least try to hide? Or to show up? I don’t care which one! Since when do you do things by halves?!”

He did not answer. Instead, he indicated her to come to him with a gestate of his index.

Cheelai lost her breath. That was it. She was done for.

But instead of fearing for her death and feeling the urge to flee, it struck a sparkle of rebellion within her. Besides, she knew that if she ran away now, he’d slaughter everyone on the ship until he found her. She could not put the others in danger. There was no way around it.

Though he was not even sparing her a glance, she gave him a black look.

Oh, so you want to kill me? Fine. But I’ll warn you. I’ll bite.

She approached, tense and alert, ready to react, and yet he was faster than her. As always. Before she could do anything, he grabbed her wrist, and she felt herself falling for a second. Instinctively, she closed her eyes.

Damn!...

She couldn’t even fight back.

She waited for the pain to come, hoped for the agony to be short, but what she found instead was an unexpected heat under her legs and around her wrists.

She opened her eyes. He was staring back at them.

“Don’t show that cute face to just anyone. That’s how you’ll get killed. Didn’t you hear? She said she’d denounce you. That she’d abandon you for her own safety. That she’ll betray you. And of all things you smile. I don’t understand.”

Her mouth formed a slight ‘o’ of surprise. She now realized he had sit her down upon one of his thighs, which was wide enough for her to be comfortable, yet he still had to look down on her. He just let go of her wrists, and her hands obliviously fell upon his chest.

The difference between what she expected and what happened was so great that, for once, she did not know what to reply. She was too astounded to rely on her usual provocations. Her thoughts were simply blank.

“These men, too”, he growled, his pupils diverting from her. He was alluding to the gamblers he found her playing with. “You smiled at them when they did nothing to help you and kept your money. At least I am honest with you. But you just glare at me. I hate it.”

She shook her head slightly, her mouth opened but no sound coming out, dumbstruck by the words he was uttering, but even more by the behavior he was showing.

Childish. He was childish.

The man that kept them all trembling in fear was childish.

“Wo-o-ow, hold on”, she said, finally regaining her senses and showing her palms, “Just hang on a sec– are, are you saying, you’re, jealous?” She squinted her eyes, emphasizing the fact that even her could not believe what she was saying.

He frowned, looking honestly extremely offended.

It was too late. Cheelai now had her hands on her mouth, her shoulders already jerking off every now and then from the laughter she was holding in. The second Broly’s eyelids opened a little bit wider, she exploded and hold her tummy as her laughter resonated against the suspended utensils of the kitchen.

It was not only just the situation that felt so hilariously out of character from him– it was her previous stress that made these giggles so relaxing. She honestly couldn’t care about his reaction, at this point. She swung her legs up and down, wiping the tears that came out of her eyes.

“Oh, oh my God, ah ah ah, you’re such a weirdo!”

He was puzzled.

Whatever he expected her first smile for him to be, it was not… that.

Sometimes, he imagined a fully pained smile. Most of the time, a provocative one. Rarely, a sad one, perhaps. To which he would all respond with a sadistic one.

This one, however, it displeased him.

It displeased him, for he did not know how to respond. For he seemed not to mind.

He took her back to the chamber after that. Their little escapade seemed to have stimulated her a bit too much however, and it took her a long time to find sleep. When she did, nonetheless, she seemed overly peaceful and calm, as if that laughter of her had exorcised all of her demons.

The fear he wanted on her face had never been so far.

He couldn’t understand that woman.

He expected an even greater frustration to arise within, and yet nothing. In the bed, beside her, all he felt was a certain emptiness, punctuated by her slow breaths.

He couldn’t understand himself.

Say… Did something… happen before?

I mean, no one is born with a sleep THAT tormented. And certainly not a Saiyan.

She had completely forgotten her question. And he was not one to remind it back to her.

Slowly, he moved to his side, facing her sleeping figure, and cupped her waist in his hand. Careful not to wake her –all he got from her was a sleepy whimper–, he dragged her body like a ragdoll near him, and stuck his head against her tummy, between her breasts and belly button, feeling the curves of her ribs heave up and down. He closed his eyes.

He just enjoyed a warmth in his bed. Nothing more.

He just enjoyed nights without cries. Nothing more.

He just enjoyed nights where he had the slightest sense of himself again.

It did not matter if the warmth and breaths he listened to came from a woman he planned to kill one day. It did not.

He’s the nastiest man I’ve ever seen, but each one has their flaws, and him… He likes you too much.

We’ve got to exploit that if we want to get out of here.

His eyes flew open. His grip on Cheelai’s body became tighter, dragging a mewl from her.

If this woman were to become his weakness, then so be it.

He just had to get rid of those who knew.

It wouldn’t be that hard.

Too easy, even.

#*sighs* i can't wait for this semester to be over so I can finish all my requests and write more chapters for this #bc standard brolai may be number 1 but i love z broly x cheelai too 😔#self-reblog #brolai #z brolai #my fanfiction

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