Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Anaugust Gold ❯ 03 ( Chapter 3 )

Vejata swung a short series of punches through the air before ducking to sweep her foot in an arc just above the ground. "Shit," she growled, dropping the rest of the way down to the floor and settling into a workout of aggressive pushups. Why, why was he here? Now?

 

He'd been antsy about the topic—she was sure Prince Vegeta had been the cause of his distress, for she'd smelled something pent-up in him, and then, worse, he'd started sniffing at her. At this thought her mind surrendered itself to recollections of days she'd invested good time and effort in trying to forget—or at least push away until she could sneer at her own foolishness from afar. She shivered, recalling the sight of his spikes of hair multiplying into a golden mane, his feral Saiyajin grin as they had sparred, and quickly shook herself from the daze, flipping over and curling into her sit-up routine.

 

And he had to show up now—now, before she'd completed the task of bringing her people to new heights of glory, and as she searched still for someone, anyone but her to rule the planet well enough, or, better yet, anyone who could even hope to spawn offspring—her own blood—worthy of being called her heir, anyone—

 

She froze as her stomach seized, and she knew it wasn't just because of the sit-ups. Images flashed through her mind—his pain and longing, his nostrils flaring, his large eyes when she'd lowered her voice at him—

 

Her blood pounded viciously and her mind reeled as she quivered under the weight of it. A sly grin crept across her features. She knew what to do.

 

 

...

 

 

Goku soared over the villages, and as he found each had buildings in just as bad a state as the one Vejata had left, his frown deepened. He bit his lip, trying to decide if he had really been the cause of all this as she had claimed. Surely she would have found Super Saiyajin without his help—right? Vegeta had.

 

Vegeta.

 

He nearly dropped from the air as guilty thoughts jerked him violently back—back to what he'd left behind him on Earth when he'd disappeared without even telling anyone where he was going. Vegeta would guess—he knew it—but would he change his mind, come find him?

 

Exhaling slowly, Goku realized that he was almost as trapped here on this faraway planet as he had been on Earth—after all, would it even be possible to bring himself to go back before something had changed between him and Vegeta—either on his end or the prince's? He knew that the strange way his stomach squirmed sometimes when he was around Vegeta could be ignored most of the time, maybe, if he tried hard enough, and maybe he would have been better off not saying a thing to Vegeta, just keeping his mouth shut as he had been.

 

But as he'd said not so long ago to the prince himself, he was an honest guy—and if Vegeta had wanted so much to know what that tiny little twinkle of feeling had been, Goku couldn't just not tell him. He himself was still baffled by it, why he'd come to feel these weird things about Vegeta, and when, and how...but dwelling on that wouldn't help fix the problem now. Goku knew by the gnawing and chewing that had started in his chest but was quickly eating its way through to the base of his gut that the chances he could dismiss it altogether now were slim, and getting worse. He had to do something...

 

Vejata had said not to come back to her until he'd figured things out. But what was there yet to decide, really? There was only what was and that was the tingling of his curiosity about Vegeta, simultaneously amplified and drowned by the prince's rejection and hurtful words. He didn't mean what he said, though, Goku reminded himself. He's not always all nice to people...he...didn't mean the stuff he said to me.

 

But what if he did?

 

 

...

 

 

Vejata's ears told her of his arrival only moments before the tiny scouter Bulma had given her, set in her eye like a contact lens—and then she felt it herself, the ki that had just appeared outside the door. She was no master yet—but this one was easy to identify. Her mouth twisted into a smirk, which she forced away as she passed through the hall to answer the door, her cape flowing behind her as a blood-red curtain in the breeze generated by her movement. With a sweeping gesture she swung the wide door open.

 

"H-hey," Goku's forced smile told her immediately that he had not done as she'd asked when she'd last seen him.

 

"Kakarrot," she growled, her voice carefully neutral. "So soon?"

 

He shifted his weight, apparently not attempting in the least to hide his discomfort with his situation. "I wanted to talk about it," he admitted, and as Vejata spun on her heel and tread back through the hall, he trailed after her. She turned suddenly at one doorway and entered, and Goku paused just outside it. "V-Vejata?"

 

"Please, don't make me tell you again," she spoke evenly, back still facing the man. "My name is Vegeta," the last word she breathed through a velvety voice and proceeded farther into the room.

 

Goku took it upon himself to enter take a seat—the room was some sort of small, personal living or dining area, no bigger than the one in his own modest home. Across the room was a short hallway holding a series of other doors, and if he had to guess, they were meant to hold something valuable; the doors were like all the others he'd seen in the building, except for some strange buzzing emanating from them that he'd heard before at the Capsule Corporation compound wherever Bulma kept something big and important. Vejata's eyes narrowed and her fingers twitched anxiously when she noticed his interest in the hallway. "Right, um," he seemed to remember the last thing she'd said. "But, Vejata, I don't call you that. Just like you don't call me Son Goku."

 

"Your prince doesn't call you by that name," and Goku winced at the phrasing. "And nor shall I." She turned suddenly to face him. "Kakarotto, are you not proud to be a Saiyajin?"

 

The man shrugged, and a stretch of silence passed as Vejata turned away briefly to remove the small scouter from her eye. Goku fidgeted and grabbed at one of the pillows from the cushioned seat on which he'd placed himself. He took to inspecting it with care, picking at some of the stitching, and his mouth moved as if he was muttering something under his breath. Vejata noticed this, but couldn't make out the words, if he was saying anything at all. "Whispering to pillows?" she sneered, laughing to herself. "Been doing a lot of that lately?"

 

Goku's eyes widened in shock. "N-no...why would I?"

 

She strode to the other side of the small room. "Always by your head at night," Vejata's voice was a quiet suggestion. "Always close, to hear the words you'd say to someone else." She stepped closer to Goku. "What's on your mind, Kakarrot?"

 

"I...I think you know," he murmured, dropping the pillow guiltily. "Otherwise you wouldn't say that...that stuff." After a few moments, he raised his head with resolve, locking eyes with her. "It's just that I can't do anything about it!" he threw his arms up in frustration. "I dunno if Vegeta will ever even give me a chance to tell him what I meant...or anything else," he paused, raising his eyebrows, "do you?"

 

"No," she responded tersely, "he won't."

 

"Wha—you weren't even there!" Goku protested, squirming in his seat. "You didn't hear..."

 

"Dammit, Kakarrot, listen to me or don't!" Vejata stomped one foot down forcefully, gritting her teeth. She seemed to realize the expression she was wearing, for her irate demeanor quickly recovered to a calmer one. She took a seat in a chair near him. "You showed up here, like this, and that's all I need to know about what he said to you."

 

"I...I hope you're wrong," he decided, finishing the statement with resolve. "Otherwise," and his confidence fell again, "I just don't know how to fix it. I hoped...you'd have an idea..."

 

"Ah," he could feel from the small distance between them that her heart rate had shot up, and hoped that this was a sign she did have one. He grinned when she answered a carefully measured, "I may."

 

With bright eyes, words fluttered quickly from his mouth. "How can I make it better? I don't really care, y'know, I mean, I do, but I wanna be friends with Vegeta so if I've gotta I can forget about it," he breathed and the words came slower, less hopeful, "only I dunno if he'd ever believe I did, and I dunno if I can really forget...y'know?"

 

"How do you know that's what you want?" she leaned in closer, speaking in a near whisper.

 

Goku felt her eyes boring into him and leaned in as well, though his gaze was focused on his fingers, weaving and unweaving nervously. "I just feel this way," he tried to explain, his speech equally quiet. He grabbed at his stomach. "It's a lot like the feeling when I eat a hot meal...it sorta starts out hot in my chest, and then my belly's hot, and then it's like it keeps on going down," he paused, and Vejata nodded, waiting, "I, I don't normally feel like that when I'm not eating. And...and I figured out what it was, I guess, when I remembered that sometimes I got that same feeling," his voice grew quieter and his ears were bright red, "y'know, with Chi-Chi. B-but..." he shook his head, "That prob'ly sounds really weird, doesn't it?"

 

"Certainly not unheard-of," she breathed. "As I told your friend Bulma, many Saiyajin feel inclined to take multiple partners." Goku opened his mouth, but she continued, "It is," he seemed taken aback by her suddenly heady tone, "merely your natural state shining through."

 

"M-my...natural..." Goku mused on this for a while before he hung his head. "Then Vegeta didn't just turn me down because he already has Bulma," he seemed to realize. "He...he flat-out doesn't like me!" his voice was panicked as the momentum of the cogs in his mind bulldozed any other possibility. "He meant those awful things he said!" and Goku clutched at his hair, words shaky. "What if he never takes them back—what if he never ever wants to see me again 'cause he thinks I'll..." he paused, hiccupping as he felt control slip away from him. "I screwed up so bad..." Burying his head in his hands, he muttered, "He's one of my best friends—I should have thought first...I didn't have to do anything, or even say anything—I mean, why did I, it's Vegeta, he's...I hardly..." his wild eyes searched Vejata's, finishing weakly, "y'know?"

 

"Kakarotto," her eyes narrowed, and in its quietness her voice deepened enough to give Goku shivers. As she leaned forward even closer, his eyes jumped to the white gloves she wore, and the medallion he'd seen on Vegeta just after Vejata had first appeared on Earth, swinging low enough in her hunched position and close enough in their nearness that it brushed his knees. "I, too," she continued in the same tone, "am Vegeta."

 

He seemed to consider this for a moment before realizing just what she had said, and gasped audibly. "What are you—" as his head snapped up he came within inches of her face and he immediately let his chin drop back to his chest, avoiding her gaze.

 

"Prince Vegeta—when you first met him," she started, settling into the lower octave she'd taken up. "Why, he can't have been much younger than I am now."

 

"I..."

 

"You must have had quite the fight," Vejata continued, and Goku nodded slowly. "Did you know?" she curled and uncurled her fingers, "I haven't had a single good fight since I came back here?" A wildness came over her eyes. "Not a one; no one has challenged me," and she finished quietly, almost only mouthing the words, "since you."

 

Goku nodded again, the rumbling voice and the words it spoke gently rousing him enough from his misery that he took the time to smile apologetically—but when his eyes met hers, he found his mind swimming in foggy confusion. Since the last time he'd looked up, perhaps a minute ago, she'd removed the armor shell of her outfit, and the remaining clothing bore an undeniable resemblance to Vegeta's usual training garb. It was only as he noted the subtly more pronounced curves of her waist and chest that Goku became sure this was not the prince himself. "Look, Vejata..."

 

"Vegeta," she corrected, urging him.

 

He swallowed to moisten his dry throat. "Vegeta, I..." he paused, and his eyes widened as he seemed to finally snag the line she'd cast; he'd made his realization. His voice seemed to grow softer, more desperate, and his eyes were distant as they met hers. "Vegeta..."

 

"That's right," her words echoed through him soothingly, and she leaned in until their noses nearly touched. "That's right, Kakarotto," she assured him huskily, "I am Vegeta."

 

"P-Pr...P..." Goku stammered, reaching out for her as if dizzy, and she guided his hand away from her chest and around to her back.

 

"That's right," her quiet growls seemed to lull him, for he gripped her closer and buried his nose in her hair as she spoke, "That's right, Kakarotto—Prince Vegeta."

 

"I...I want..." he started, and she pressed a gloved finger to his lips.

 

"Good," her teeth gleamed, and she tilted her head back. "Then take."