Chapter Text
The situation was this.
After the longest, most bullshit forty-eight minutes of everybody's lives, the Tournament of Power was finally over. Android 17 claimed an unexpected victory, and used his wish upon the Super Dragon Balls to restore the seven erased universes. With that, everybody returned to Earth in high spirits to greet the coming dawn. It was an unambiguously happy ending.
Except for one problem: Frieza.
Specifically, his complete revival. Not because of any far-reaching or long-term consequences, or the ethical dilemma of granting a genocidal tyrant a second (well, third or fourth, really) chance at life as a mere reward for good behavior. A reward he had earned, certainly, but perhaps not one he deserved in the first place. Was it morally just to uphold the promise Goku had made and let him live, or plunge him straight back into Hell to prevent further evil? That was neither here nor there.
No, Frieza being alive posed a far simpler problem: for the time being, he was stuck on Earth.
And nobody was happy about this.
Mere minutes after arriving back at Capsule Corp, Frieza cleared his throat to attract Whis's attention. "So, ah… seeing as how I've been revived, I assume you'll be escorting me back to the seat of my empire now?"
And Whis.
The absolute fucker.
Just laughed.
"Oh, Frieza, why such a hurry? Lord Beerus and I aren't going anywhere. At least, not until we've had a chance to properly celebrate our universe's victory!"
Whis laughed again, lilting and smug, and a collective look of horror dawned on everyone's faces—Frieza included—as the implication of Whis's words set in.
Eventually, his laughter trailed off, and he smiled. "We'll drop you off on the way back."
And that was that. Their fates were sealed. Frieza was forced to party with his foes, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it.
Vegeta pushed his way to the front of the group. "You cannot be serious, Whis!" he yelled. "I will not stand for having Frieza on this planet a second longer, let alone in my house!"
"Settle down, Vegeta," said Whis. "Lord Beerus and I will be here to make sure he behaves himself. Besides, it'll only be for a short while."
"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"
The pre-dinner entertainment continued for several minutes. Vegeta pushed with increasing irritation against the placidly amused Whis, accompanied by the occasional interjection from Beerus, as everybody else stood in wide-eyed, awkward silence. Neither of them were budging until properly fed.
Eventually, Bulma shot to her feet. "I'll get the food," she said, then added, "And the booze…"
The prevailing hope had been that Whis and Beerus would be satisfied after a round of food and drinks, strap Frieza into the metaphorical cosmic baby carrier, and be on their merry way. Unfortunately, it turned out that they were very, very hungry, and the afterparty-turned-existential-nightmare overstayed its already tenuous welcome. The lucky ones found excuses to leave. Gohan and Piccolo had a baby to look after, and Roshi's old bones couldn't handle an all-nighter of fighting and partying like they used to. The rest were stuck there.
Frieza sat off in a corner, well away from the festivities, almost wishing to be back in Hell just to be free of this unfathomably awkward situation. Vegeta refused to budge an inch—not while it meant leaving Frieza unsupervised in the same house as his newborn daughter. As impressive as his stink-eye was, and as tempted as Frieza was to mock how far he'd fallen to be living on a backwater planet like this, quite frankly he hated being stuck in Vegeta's home just as much as Vegeta hated having him there. In any case, the stand-off only lasted until he and Goku got into a squabble, which devolved into a drinking contest, ending in Goku shitfaced and Vegeta passed out cold. Frieza snorted at the predictable outcome. Vegeta never had been able to hold his liquor.
It wasn't all bad, though. Despite lacking any appetite, the food was quite good, and so was the wine—like hell he was getting through this sober.
And there was, at least, one person he genuinely didn't mind being forced to hang out with.
"No, no, nobody uses Space Skype anymore," said Android 17. "We all switched to Space Discord while you were dead. It's so much better, you wouldn't even believe it. You should make one, I'll add you there instea—"
A loud sob brought the conversation to a halt.
"I can't believe nobody even thought to invite me to the tournament!" cried Yamcha, who was also there for some reason, drowning his sorrows and bawling his eyes out. "This whole time I was waiting on you guys, and not one person thought to invite me! It's like… it's like my entire life is just one big joke!"
Krillin patted him on the back with a sympathetic smile. "That's not true, Yamcha! That's just the alcohol talking! You're our friend, and we care about you! We just already had a full roster!" Not… entirely true, but considering how crucial a role Frieza had played in their victory, it didn't seem right to split hairs over it.
Yamcha sucked an unattractive wad of snot back into his nose. "I just feel so pathetic and unappreciated… I'm forty-seven years old and don't even have a girlfriend! Tell me, Krillin, am I ugly?"
"Of course you're not!" said Krillin. "I mean, I don't swing that way myself, but you're a very attractive man, and I know there's someone out there for you! You shouldn't be putting stock into anything superficial like that, anyway. It's not about looks, it's about—"
"Please don't say, 'what's on the inside'…"
The corner of Krillin's lip twitched into a smirk. "Actually, I, uh… was gonna say 'technique.' How do you think a guy like me was able to land a girl like 18?"
Yamcha sniffled. "W-What do you mean?"
"Aha. I don't mean to brag, but let's just say that when you're my size, you have to find ways to compensate for… certain deficiencies, if you know what I mean." He winked.
Bulma snorted from across the table, face flushed from alcohol. "Oh, so you eat your girl out. Big deal. That's not a sex tip, that's a basic standard of decency. Do you guys wanna hear how Vegeta won me over?"
Yamcha planted his head on the table, and groaned. "Please, no."
"Well, I'll be merciful and spare you the details." With a laugh, she downed another shot of rum. "We switch roles nowadays, but in the beginning, it turned out he just wanted to be dommed, if you can believe it! People always say the man has to be the dominant, aggressive one, but no. It's all about communication, and knowing what your partner is into."
Vegeta snored loudly from under the table.
Bulma turned to Krillin, grin widening. "So, have you and 18 ever done anything actually interesting?"
Krillin blushed. "U-Um, well…"
"Krillin's into pegging, I'm into light-medium bondage, but I don't mind being top or bottom." 18's tone was nonchalant. She leaned against the balcony railing, and took another drag of her cigarette. "We experiment with new kinks and positions every now and then, but now that we're married with jobs and a daughter we aren't as sexually active as we used to be. Craziest thing we ever tried was petplay, but we couldn't get into it."
Krillin's face grew redder and redder with each successive word, until he was a sputtering tomato, face buried in his hands.
17 whistled. "Not bad, not bad! My wife's pretty vanilla, but she likes having sex in weird places. We're proud members of the mile high club."
"But… 17." 18 stared at him. "You can fly. Why were you on a plane in the first place? Did you really buy a plane ticket just for plane sex? That's so financially irresponsible!"
He shrugged. "Don't kinkshame, sis."
Frieza, unfortunately, was still present, mind struggling to process what the actual fuck he was being forced to listen to. He had no desire whatsoever to learn about the details of Goku's friends' sex lives. Though not at all shy about the topic of sex, he really did not want to think about this particular group of people in that way. And now he would never be able to scrub away the mental images. Wonderful. He glowered, and poured himself another glass of wine, suddenly feeling deeply envious of Vegeta.
Apparently, he wasn't the only one more than a little uncomfortable with this line of conversation. Tenshinhan, when questioned about the particulars of his relationship with some woman named Launch, turned beet red and flew away, fast, without saying a single word.
Bulma pouted. "Damn, and here I was actually curious. We haven't heard from Launch in so long, y'know?" Speech slurring ever so slightly, she turned to Whis. "What about you? You've been around a while. I'm sure you've got some interesting stories to tell!"
Whis flushed, touching a hand to his cheek. "Oh my, I suppose you could say that. Well, I'm not one to kiss and tell, but I suppose you could consider me something of a… hm, what's the phrase… ah, yes! A pussy destroyer."
Beerus choked, spit-taking dramatically and squawking like a dying parrot. Unable to form coherent words, he instead threw his drink at Whis, who dodged it expertly, shoveling forkfuls of salad into his mouth and laughing all the while.
Yamcha's jaw dropped. "I knew it! Krillin, you owe me two thousand zeni."
"ANYWAY! ENOUGH OF THAT!" cried Beerus, still a very conspicuous shade of red. He cleared his throat. "Moving on! Goku, you've been quiet this entire time! Tell us what you and your wife get up to!"
Goku looked up, reddened cheeks stuffed with food, blinking in confusion. He let out a muffled laugh, but swallowed before answering. "Wait, what are we talking about?"
"We're discussing our sex lives, Goku," said Whis, smiling.
Frieza looked up. He couldn't help being slightly curious, where the topic of Goku was concerned. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bulma pouring herself another shot of rum, muttering something about how depressed she was on Chi-Chi's behalf.
"Huh? Sex?" said Goku. "I mean, yeah, I've had sex. After we got married, Chi-Chi wanted kids, and she explained what to do. Then when she wanted Goten we did it again. Not sure what's so interesting about that, though?"
Everybody, Frieza included, stared at Goku in stunned silence.
Yamcha spoke up. "You know, suddenly I feel a lot better about my life."
"Wait, seriously?" said Krillin. "Goku, you've really only had sex two times in your entire life?"
"Um, yeah?" He scratched the back of his head. "Two kids is plenty."
"That's not even the worst of it," Bulma muttered, slouched on her elbow. "Apparently, he's never even kissed his wife. Or anyone. Vegeta was on the verge of having an aneurysm when he told me. Honestly, I have no idea how they managed to get it on in the first place."
Frieza's fork clattered to his plate. Wait, Goku had never… what?!
"That again?" said Goku. "C'mon, Bulma, it's kind of a weird thing to do, isn't it? I don't see why everyone keeps making such a big deal out of it."
This really put his worst adversary in a whole new light.
Yes, Goku was a naïve fool, but this was bordering on comically absurd. Admittedly, Frieza knew nothing about Goku's wife, but how had he been able to keep a wife long enough to rear a child to adulthood without kissing her even once? Moreover, how had she and apparently everyone else let Goku (who, despite their animosity, Frieza took no shame in acknowledging was objectively quite the hunk) go without being smooched for all his forty-some years?!
It made no sense. It was just so, so stupid. He would not accept this reality—that this was the man who defeated him. He couldn't.
And this was something Frieza could hold over him for the rest of his life.
So he stood up, marched over to Goku, yanked him by the collar, and smashed their lips together. Right there in front of everyone. With as many witnesses as possible. He heard the distinct sound of someone choking on their drink.
The kiss tasted like alcohol. Frieza kept his eyes open to savor Goku's look of absolute bewilderment. After several seconds, he broke away, and looked down on Goku's confused, sputtering, idiot face with deep, smug satisfaction. The weight of everyone's flabbergasted stares bored into them. Good.
Frieza licked his lips with a devilish smile. "Well?"
Goku snapped out of his daze. He blinked a few times, mouth falling open… and then the surprise and alcohol must have caught up to him all at once, because he then proceeded to keel over backwards, knocking his chair over, snoring the moment he hit the ground. Frieza curled his lip in disgust, but nevertheless turned to the stunned partygoers with a bow, grimace composed to a smirk. Whis broke the silence with a golf clap.
"More wine, please," said Frieza, holding out his empty glass. "I do believe our dear Son Goku's first kiss is cause for celebration."
(There was a silent, mutual understanding that nobody would tell Vegeta about this.)