Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Compromising Positions ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Author Notes: It’s AU. I changed one little wish just a tiny, tiny bit. Oh, it’s also yaoi, although I’m not entirely sure who I’m gonna have screw who. Also, it is entirely off the wall, so the first bit’s gonna seem like I don’t care if it reads well or not. It’s a tad mite jerky, it is. I intend to let it stay that way, because for once, I want something a bit more comedic than my usual dark fare. And simply because I like ‘em that way, male Saiyans can and do, have and probably will get pregnant.

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Gohan frowned. “Isn’t Master Roshi a voyeur?” he asked in confusion. “I heard Bulma call him that once.”

“Why don’t I want to know?” Krillin demanded, at the same time Bulma said, “He’s a pervert, Gohan.”

“But what’s a pervert?” Gohan demanded as Vegeta answered Krillin with, “He wanted to watch Kakarot’s brother rut with the pretty boy there.”

“I understood that!” Gohan crowed. A few seconds later, under the combined glares of most of the adults, he’d backed completely into Zarbon, who casually picked him up.

“Vegeta is crass, as usual. I did not rut with Kakarot’s brother,” he informed the child. “That’s what Jeice is for.”

“Hey!” an affronted voice complained. “I’m not a fuck-toy! OWWWIEEE!”

Bulma slapped him again. “Watch your language around the children!”

“Why aren’t you slapping him?” Jeice whined. “He said it first!”

“So my Uncle Raditz was going to have your baby?” Gohan twisted to see Zarbon more clearly as he asked, and caught the flash of sorrow in his pretty eyes.

“Yes, he was. Or so I thought,” Zarbon ended a little bitterly. “Apparently, he was no more willing to have a half-breed child than his prince.”

“Vegeta got pregnant?!” Gohan yelped.

Silence. Dead silence, as every single creature looked at the glaring prince. “Put the boy down, Zarbon,” Vegeta growled, “so you can answer for your lies.”

“I didn’t lie. You don’t want a half-breed child. He merely misunderstood. Here, Jeice, hold him for me.”

“Hey! Wait! I…” Jeice regarded the young Saiyan in his arms in horror. “What am I supposed to do with it!”

“I’m not an it, I’m a boy!” Gohan huffed. “Why do you have old man hair?”

“WHAT!???!” Jeice screeched, effectively disrupting the Vegeta-Zarbon deathmatch-to-be. “I do NOT have OLD MAN hair!”

“It’s white,” Gohan pointed out helpfully. “Only old men have white hair.” Vegeta snickered.

Jeice dropped him. “I hate kids. Hate them, hate them hate them hate them, and especially hate you!” he pouted. “I’m only twenty-four! I’m no old man!”

“Oh, twenty-four?” Bulma purred. “You’re the same age as Goku.”

“Kakarot is twenty-five, human.”

“The name’s Bulma, sweet cheeks,” Bulma snapped, sending Zarbon and Jeice into silent giggles. “Well, I guess you guys will be staying at my place, there’s no one else on this planet with the money to feed that bottomless pit of a Saiyan. That is, if you eat as much as Goku always does.”

“Undoubtedly,” the surviving members of the Ginyu force, and Zarbon, chimed.

“You can’t take them home with you!” Krillin protested.

“Why not? I’ve always wanted my own pretty boy collection, and most of them qualify.” That response had Recoomb scratching his head and looking askance at Gordo. “And it’s not like I have to put the ones that don’t anywhere in the house that would be anywhere near me. Besides,” she put her hands on her hips, “Capsule Corp. is the only place where ships could possibly be made to get them off our world again, and I’d rather have them easily found when a ship is ready, wouldn’t you?”

Gohan, feeling rather ignored as the adults burst into excited babble about that, crawled over to curl up by Vegeta’s feet. The prince offered him a glare, but didn’t kick him away. He didn’t, like Zarbon had, pick him up, or do anything much besides issue curt demands that were ignored. After a few minutes of that, Gohan wandered back over to Zarbon, and leaned against his leg.

Zarbon glanced down to see the youngest Saiyan’s rather lost-looking expression, just in time for the boy to yawn. He promptly picked the boy up and cradled him against his hip, with a softly muttered, “Sleep, boy, while we finish our talk.”

“Mmkay,” Gohan muttered sleepily, and promptly started mouthing the end of Zarbon’s braid. “What are you doing?”

“Mommy says big boys don’t suck their thumbs,” the little boy whispered, making Zarbon realize just how close to his mouth the child’s thumb was, and how well hidden that fact was by his braid. He smiled slightly, and tickled the Saiyan’s chin with the end.

“Go ahead, child. You’re young enough to still need a comfort.” It wasn’t long before the tiny bundle of muscle relaxed against him, snoring softly, Zarbon’s braid in his mouth as a replacement for the missing tail he’d be suckling if he still had it. “Vegeta?”

“What?” Vegeta shot a look at him, then glared. “Why do you have that boy again?”

“He likes my braid.” The taller man shifted so Vegeta could see more clearly, and saw the shock that momentarily lightened the scowl. “What do you know of this boy’s mother?” he asked, moving closer to the other compact bundle of muscles so they could speak more privately. Jeice, fully involved in a shouting match with Bulma and Krillin, failed to follow.

“She’s human.” Zarbon waited; Vegeta glared at him.

“That is all you know?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happened to the child’s tail?”

Vegeta sent a hateful look at the boy’s tailless backside, and a more hateful look at his braid-filled mouth. “No doubt the humans removed it to prevent him from going oozaru, as they did Kakarot’s and mine.”

“Kakarot allowed this?”

Vegeta growled. “He actively participated in ensuring the removal of mine! He has no memory of what it is to be Saiyan!”

Zarbon had no difficulty imagining Vegeta with his tail lashing in anger: He’d seen that more than once, after all. He shot a quick look behind him. “Perhaps it would be best if you took the boy now, and vanished?” he suggested.

“When the woman is offering what she is?” Vegeta countered sharply. “Why give up that up to train a third-class warrior’s half-blood brat? The boy’s father isn’t dead: let him train the brat.”

Zarbon looked down at the demi-Saiyan curled so trustingly against him, considering his options. Vegeta had beaten him, Frieza had beaten Vegeta, and the boy’s father had beaten Frieza. The boy wasn’t his concern, since he wasn’t Raditz’ cub, but the idea of sending the child back to a family that denied him his heritage galled. It was too like his own childhood. A tiny smile quirked his lips. Frieza, oddly enough, had been annoyed he knew little of his heritage, and had been the one to teach him his people’s history and customs. It had been Frieza, not his father, who had presented him with the headband and earrings that had marked his coming of age.

But Frieza was dead. The boy’s father had killed him, and the man apparently cared nothing for his people’s heritage. The prince had no wish to teach the child, and he himself had only a partial understanding of what had been a truly complex people. And, as the short, irritable man in front of him had mentioned, the boy was a half-breed. He was at least learning his mother’s culture.

“Miss, if you would, the child has fallen asleep. Do you know how to contact his mother? He should go home.”

“Oh, sure!” The blue-haired woman whipped out a phone as the boy was plucked from Zarbon’s arms. The Namek gave him a rather indecipherable look, then took off with the boy.

“Ah, never mind. It seems that one will be taking him home.”

“Eh? Oh, okay.” She flipped the phone closed. “All right, then. You guys can all load up in the air van. Housing’s all arranged, and we’ll get you a new place as soon as the dragon balls are back.”

Zarbon filed dutifully into the strange conveyance, and was shortly with a lapful of Jeice. “That woman’s scary. She gives Frieza a run for his money in scary,” the man confided. “Did you see the way she looked at you, though?”

“She saw my transformation,” Zarbon replied curtly, and shut Jeice up in the easiest possible manner. The Nameks around them drew back with sounds of dismayed shock. Vegeta, across from them, only snorted with snide amusement. “Something funny, Vegeta?”

“Prince Vegeta, to you, and yes.”

Vegeta was stronger than he now. He kept that thought in mind. “My prince, what has amused you?”

“The amount of drool that woman produced when she saw you kiss him.”

Zarbon groaned.