Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 06: Surprise ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 6

It had taken him a week to design a safe pathway. But it was a week well spent in Trunks' opinion. He sighed as he waited on the connectors of Yamcha's roofing tiles. Soon. He grinned to himself, proud of his silent work. No one knew.

His own father didn't know that the path had been cleared, and that he would soon be having a visitor. Of course, that was Yamcha's idea. He wanted it to be a surprise.

When Trunks thought it was safe, he removed a ceiling tile. They were heavier than one might first imagine, but he managed it with muffled sounds. He peeked his head down. Yamcha was already waiting for him. With a wink and a smile, the human jumped up and entered the shadow ways.

Outside, the three guards were waiting for their relief to come. 17 heard the light sounds coming from Yamcha's room, but acted as if he didn't. 18 saw her brother's indifference, and knew that the human was too weak to be of any concern to her, so she ignored the sound as well. Captain Ginyu, unsure of his station and the reason he had to be there, looked at the door, but then simply returned to his silent position. If the androids didn't make a scene of it, then what he heard was probably normal.

Piccolo was acutely aware of every movement the pair made as they traversed through the ceiling above him. Normal ears or even fairly sensitive ears wouldn't have been able to hear them, but the two pointed auricles on either side of his head made sensitive hearing seem average. Trunks had explained to him earlier that week, a day or two after Vegeta had been replaced, his plans to allow Yamcha to see the saiyajin, and while Piccolo didn't approve of the unnecessary risk, he wasn't going to stop them. He knew the human was unhappy without his guard. And he understood that misery very well. After all, he'd been living for years without his Gohan.

The tall being stretched out on his bed. He didn't really require sleep himself, but he thought he may as well partake in it to some extent. Plus, it gave him an excuse to get out of his clothes for longer than just a bath. He still left on his gi pants while he slept, however. Crossing his arms behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, noting that Trunks and Yamcha had very quickly moved almost outside of his hearing distance. Thoughts of this world drifted into his resting mind. What a strange and ridiculous reality this was turning out to be.

***

Vegeta continued his concentrated pushups in his room. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose onto the cold metal floor. How many different exercises had he gone through today? He'd lost count in the early afternoon, and it was nearing midnight. He'd thought that the more active he kept himself, the less he'd think about the human and his new guard. Gods, how he hated Ginyu for taking over his position! He growled as the tall, purple warrior came into his mind and popped up off the floor, swiftly moving into shadow boxing.

As his fists punched rapidly in the air against a nonexistent opponent, he tried desperately not to think of Yamcha, but the effort was futile. He couldn't help wondering if Yamcha had taken it all into stride, becoming friends with his new guard. What was he doing now? Was he happier now without him around? Did it even matter to him that Vegeta had been dismissed?

This was what he got for being attracted to the scarred warrior, he supposed. Why did Yamcha and his companions even have to come here? He knew they didn't do it on purpose, but still. If they'd never come here, he would've never had to know the pain of being separated from something he had begun to hold closer to his heart than anything else. But if he'd never met Yamcha... No, that would've been worse.

He missed him. His smile, his eyes, his voice. To think, he'd wanted nothing more than to be replaced in the beginning, to be spared the humiliation of guarding a mere human. But now that he had been relieved of duty, all he wanted was to get back to him. He wanted to guard him. Gods, he wanted so much more than that. But he'd settle for just guarding him, even if that's all he was allowed. Just... anything. As long as he could spend more time with Yamcha.

The furious shadow boxing turned into slightly more, kicks intermingling with the jabs. Why? Why was this happening to him? He'd gotten so good at ignoring his wretched lot in life, so apt at burying his emotions until he'd thought they'd vanished for good. But along comes this beautiful, kind soul, undoing decades of hard work in a couple of months. "Unacceptable!" Vegeta shouted to no one.

He didn't worry about someone hearing him talk to himself. He could do whatever he wanted, be as loud as he wanted. None of the other palace inhabitants had a room anywhere near his; he was situated in the smallest room at the end of a long corridor. In reality, it was just shy of a segregated prison cell, a continual reminder of his near-captivity. And now, he was more like a prisoner than ever, having been confined to his room with the door locked from the outside. Food was delivered to him a few times a day by robots, but otherwise, that door did not open. There was no escape.

His quick feet danced him towards the door as he fought his absent adversary. How he wished he could break that door down. But it was very reinforced, as was his entire room. He didn't even have a normal ceiling. It was solid. This truly was a cell.

His eyes focused on the door again. He couldn't break the door, but he could certainly punch at it, though. Sure, his hands might break before it did, but then again, maybe that pain might take his mind off the other pain he felt. Just as he took his first swing at the solid metal entrance, his fist came into contact with something far softer and more pliable. He jumped back, shocked.

There, before him, Yamcha was sprawled out in the open doorway. The human rubbed at his scarred cheek. "Ow, shit," he muttered.

In the hallway, Trunks was crouched over, pushing the dark-haired fighter into the room. The moment Yamcha's backside had been beyond the door's parameters, the svelte demi-saiyajin pressed a few buttons on the panel on the outside wall, effectively shutting and locking the door as it had been when they'd found it. He raced back to the end of the shadow ways where they'd exited to get to Vegeta's room. He hadn't had time to be concerned with the fact that Vegeta had punched Yamcha, though now he wondered. Would Yamcha be okay? Did Vegeta know how to care for injuries? The lavender-haired youth shook his head as he crawled through the walls. He knew his sire had been injured many times in the past. Surely he could take care of Yamcha.

Yamcha picked himself off the floor, touching his cheek, pretty sure that it wouldn't even bruise. He'd been caught off-guard is all. He smirked a little at the saiyajin. "Do you always greet visitors by punching them?" he queried.

Vegeta stood motionless, his eyes fixed on Yamcha. Was this a trick? Was his mind so far gone that it had created this illusion to prove it? He blinked hard then, slightly shaking his head as if to clear it. The human was still there. "I'm delusional," he answered finally. "You're not real."

For that statement, he received a hard poke in the chest. "How's that for real?"

In return, Vegeta jabbed a finger at Yamcha's chest. "Real enough." His eyes roamed over the taller male. The yellow suit had been exchanged for a fighting gi similar to that of his green companion, except that it was dark green with an orange sash. "You changed your clothes," he commented.

"Yeah," Yamcha smiled. "Piccolo has this neat way of creating clothing out of nothing. I don't know exactly how he does it, but it comes in handy from time to time. Especially if you don't have anything else to wear. The same thing every day gets a little boring for me."

What a strange ability. Making clothes? Was that a sign of the greatness of the green man's power? Or was that just really, really weird? Oh, well. Piccolo did good work. Yamcha wore the gi well. "You look...," Vegeta trailed off. "Nice."

"Thanks."

The saiyajin took a few steps back and grabbed a towel. He was suddenly very conscious of his sweat-drenched body and the fact that he was only wearing a pair of tight black shorts. Wiping himself off, he asked, "What are you doing here?" It sounded far colder than he'd intended it to sound.

Yamcha held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Vegeta didn't sound like he was pleased to see him at all. He'd thought they were becoming friends. Was he wrong? "I--I wanted to see you," came the reply. He turned away, facing the door. "I thought you might want to see me. I guess I messed up. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here."

"No." Vegeta cursed himself inwardly. Yamcha wanted to see him, and this is how he treated him? What was he thinking?! The shorter male reached out to him, but his hand faltered just before it touched the other man. His arm dropped to his side. "It wasn't a mistake. I'm... glad you're here. I do want to see you."

Before either of them knew what was happening, Yamcha had his arms wrapped around the short saiyajin in a tight hug. He was so happy that he hadn't been wrong. "Good," he said.

They stood there in the embrace for just slightly longer than they probably should have. The smaller man relished the first real contact he had with the human. To touch him, even in this mostly innocent way, was more than he could have asked for. When Yamcha pulled back, he found himself terribly missing the contact. But at least then he could see the face, the smile, the eyes, of the scarred fighter. Being able to see him was enough.

Other thoughts began to sift into his head besides having this welcome visitor. "How did you get here? I doubt Captain Ginyu just let you leave your room in the middle of the night to wander around by yourself."

A snicker met his ears. "That guy's an idiot." Yamcha walked over to Vegeta's bed and sat down. "Trunks helped me find a way to get here without being seen."

"So no one knows you're here except Trunks."

"Right. Oh, and Piccolo and Krillin. But that's it."

"I see."

"So, um," Yamcha began as his eyes took in the tiny room. He'd die in a room like this. He wasn't claustrophobic, but he would be in here. How did Vegeta stand this? "What have you been doing this whole time?"

"Training." The saiyajin couldn't help but let the sarcasm tinge his response. This was hardly an area for training, but he did what he could. Plus, it wasn't like he could do anything else, seeing as how he was locked in there. "What have -you- been doing?"

"The same," he replied. "I've pretty much just stayed in my room since they replaced you. I don't want to walk around with Ginyu. Krillin has been bringing me food, and -- gross as this sounds -- I hadn't bathed until today, since I knew I was going to see you." The human leaned back on one arm and smiled again. "You know, he didn't stay in the bathing garden while I bathed like you would. He just stayed by the door. Which was good, you know, because he's like the last person I'd want to see me naked."

Vegeta wrung the towel in his hands, trying not to let his eyes stray from the motion. On one hand, it pleased him to know that he hadn't wanted Ginyu to see him naked and that the guard hadn't seen him. On the other hand, just hearing him talk about being naked gave his body a stir. When he looked back up, he still saw that warm smile Yamcha almost always seemed to wear.

"So. What would you like to do?" Yamcha inquired.

"What do you mean?" Vegeta was having trouble concentrating. Yamcha was in -his- room, and he wanted to be there. Once he'd allowed himself to look at the human again, he looked him over completely. The saiyajin hadn't been lying when he said that Yamcha looked nice. He did. Of course, the more he thought about it, the more Vegeta thought the human would look even better without the clothes. Without anything on except a bedroom sheet. -His- bedroom sheet. Vegeta shivered, trying to rid his mind of such... distracting thoughts.

"Well, I can't leave until Trunks comes to let me out. So you're stuck with me for at least a few hours." The taller male cocked his head to the side. "What do you want to do until then?" The saiyajin just stared blankly at him. It became clear to Yamcha that maybe Vegeta thought he would only be there for a few minutes, not hours. "Um, is that okay? Me staying that long? I mean, I didn't really think about it before, and it's kind too late to be worrying about it now, but... Is this okay?"

"Hm?" Vegeta shrugged. He didn't mind. He liked having Yamcha here. He still couldn't believe he'd come to see him. Just to see him. It was just unfathomable that he'd gone through the trouble to do that. "I don't have any cards."

"You play cards?" Yamcha asked, surprised. He had never figured Vegeta for the kind to sit down for a game of poker.

"A little. I learned," Vegeta replied, keeping the towel in his hands. If he didn't, he knew he would go over and rip off Yamcha's new clothes. He wasn't sure, but he didn't think that would be a good idea. The saiyajin tried to get a hold of himself, tried to curb the natural inclination to just go over there and lay next to the human, but it was taking more effort and will than he really had. He knew, though, that he couldn't make a fool of himself. He had to remain in control, or how else would Yamcha respect him?

"Wow. That's... huh. So, what else do you do when you're bored?" Yamcha asked, his eyes giving Vegeta his full attention.

For his efforts, Vegeta stood as tall as he could, his tail curling up behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back somewhat to his companion. He tried to think of what he did when he was off duty. "Well, when I'm allowed, I like to go to a large lake that's about two hundred kilometers to the south. And I like to swim. I like it there because the water is always warm, no matter what time of year it is. I like to read. There's a few old earth libraries still standing, though it has taken me a while to learn the languages."

"Sounds very lonely," Yamcha said softly. He stretched out onto his stomach, resting his head upon his folded arms. "I don't think I'd survive like that. I couldn't bear the silence."

Vegeta smirked, though he wasn't looking at Yamcha. He was looking at something in the far distance. "Yeah. The silence sucks. So..."

"So?" Yamcha encouraged. "So, what do you do?"

"Sometimes I sing," Vegeta answered softly, a light blush dancing over his features. He couldn't believe he just admitted that. No one knew that. NO ONE! How could he have just said that to the one person he had been trying to impress?

"You sing?" Yamcha asked, his voice containing a world's worth of shock and curiosity. Grinning wide, he began to beg, "I want to hear! Please! Please, just one song."

"No." Vegeta shook his head adamantly, getting up off the bed and beginning to back away from the human on his bed. The same human who looked good lying there on his bed. The same human who was begging for something from him while lying on his bed.

Vegeta looked at the ground, at the walls, anywhere and everywhere except at his bed where Yamcha was looking at him, begging him. Finally, his face a contradiction of scowl and blush, he glared at the human. "Fine, I'll sing for you. But what are you going to do for me?"

"Me?" Yamcha asked, his smile still in place. He had won the song, after all. "I dunno. What do you want me to do? I can't sing. I don't dance. In fact, I'm not very good at anything. Well, there's baseball, but that doesn't count as that's a team sport and requires a LOT of room."

Vegeta couldn't control the all-body shiver that coursed through him. There were a lot of things he knew he wanted Yamcha to do, but he didn't think that the human would agree that the songs warranted them. It would be like trying to buy the royal crown with the money it takes to buy a couple loaves of bread. He tilted his head to the side, noticing the way Yamcha covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned. That would have to do.

"Um," Yamcha said after he finished his yawn, slightly embarrassed. He hoped he didn't fall asleep. That would ruin everything. "Well..."

"After I sing, you have to be willing to go to sleep with me," Vegeta stated softly.

"Huh?" Yamcha sounded, startled wide-awake. He couldn't have heard that correctly. Could he?

Vegeta shrugged. He looked down at the floor. "I only know lullabies. And since you're already tired, as am I, and I know there's room on the bed for both of us, it only makes sense to share the bed until Trunks returns."

"Ohh." Yamcha smiled and nodded his head, though he wasn't sure that Vegeta saw him as something on the floor had the saiyajin's attention completely. "Sure. I'll sleep in your bed with you."

Vegeta looked up, a small, grateful smile on his face. He nodded his head and climbed onto the other side of the bed. Yamcha straightened himself out, tossing off his shoes and climbing under the thin covers.

With that, Vegeta began to sing. His voice was low, soothing, soft. Very mellow. It had a slight lilt to it, as if it were supposed to be accented, but seeing as how Yamcha didn't understand a word of it, he wasn't sure. Yamcha watched as the shorter male smiled while he sang, tilting his head to one side as if listening to someone else's voice from long ago. Dark eyes were closed with soft memories. Yamcha wasn't sure, but he thought that was as close to rapturous as he'd ever seen Vegeta get.

He was already beautiful in a very masculine way, but in that one moment, he was stunning. The sound of his voice, combined with his expression, left Yamcha longing, not wanting or lusting, but longing for the other male.

The lullaby ended, and Yamcha laid on his side, gazing in awe at the saiyajin prince. Vegeta turned his head to the side to look at the silent man. "What?"

"That was... wonderful," the man whispered. "I didn't know what you were saying, but it sounded lovely."

Vegeta turned his head again and stared at the ceiling. "Hn. You're just saying that."

Reaching his hand over, he lightly caught the smaller man's chin in his fingers and gently swiveled the regal face towards him. "I meant it. Really."

Their faces couldn't have been more than six inches apart, probably less. The natural thing to do in a moment like this would have been to kiss, but both men were entirely too insecure about the other's feelings to do so. Instead, Yamcha let his hand fall to the pillow beside his face and smiled. "This is strange," he remarked.

"What is?"

"Sharing a bed with someone." He looked pensive for a moment before continuing. "I think I told you that once, didn't I? That I always slept alone."

Vegeta nodded. "Yes. You told me that," he murmured.

"It's just strange that I don't have to sleep alone tonight."

Frowning slightly, the prince asked, "Is that strange in an unpleasant way?"

"Not at all," Yamcha replied before stifling a yawn with his fist. "Better here than anywhere else." His eyelids started to droop a little, and unconsciously, he scooted closer to Vegeta under the covers. "Will you teach me one of your songs?" he requested.

Vegeta raised his eyebrows. "Right now?"

"No, not right now," Yamcha chuckled. "But some day in the future."

"Perhaps." The saiyajin rolled onto his side to face the scarred male. "We will have to see."

"Good enough for me," replied the human.

Vegeta stayed nearly perfectly still until he heard Yamcha's breaths fall into the even pace of sleep. He moved to lie on his side to watch him sleep. In sleep, the scarred warrior looked so peaceful and innocent, like he'd never seen a battle, had never known pain, had never known loss. He wondered if he looked that way when he slept. Did everyone appear heavenly in repose?

The human eventually flipped over onto his other side, his back fully facing the saiyajin. The smaller male took the opportunity to get a little cozier and aligned himself directly behind the other man, draping an arm over his waist. Yamcha snuggled backwards into his form, taking the hand near his stomach and holding it close to his chest. At first, Vegeta thought Yamcha had awakened, but upon checking, the human was still deeply asleep. The saiyajin accepted the gesture and nestled closely to him, burying his face into the other man's neck. He wasn't going to pretend this was more than it was, but at least it wasn't just a dream. Yamcha was really there in his bed, sleeping with Vegeta's arms around him. Thinking how lucky he was that this wasn't some reverie, he fell asleep. He'd never fallen asleep so quickly... nor so contentedly.

***

The door to the room slid open easily, quietly. Trunks peeked inside, and remained as silent as a shadow. He smiled as he looked at how his father clung to Yamcha, his tail wrapped around the human as if his very life depended upon it. Trunks was a bit embarrassed that he had waited so long before returning, but he had gotten carried away last night talking with Piccolo.

He had taken to talking with Piccolo whenever he could, since the large warrior was always willing to discuss things. Things like how to stay hidden. How to use strategy. He also told great stories about places that were just too fantastic to be real. Like his home, where there was someone who looked just like him but was a super-saiyajin. Where there was nothing like the galactic empire. Yes, Piccolo told some amazing stories.

Trunks hadn't made a sound, but Yamcha was already removing himself from the tangle of limbs that he and Vegeta made. He was flushing slightly, reluctant to remove himself from the warmth that was in the bed. But also, he had enjoyed the feel of the other man pressed up against his back for most of the night. He glanced over his shoulder, but Vegeta was still asleep. He nodded as the door shut behind him. "Lead on, Trunks."

Trunks leaned into him a moment, taking a deep breath. "You smell like him."

"Huh? Oh, well, yeah...," Yamcha grinned, not understanding.

"You're going to have to make sure that you have another bath today, so that others won't be able to smell him on you. Captain Ginyu, 17, and 18 don't have the sense of smell that some of the others do, so you might make it to the bathing chambers without incident," Trunks whispered fiercely. "Otherwise, they'll catch us. And I don't know what they'd do to you, but I do know that they'd torture me, and then kill me. This could classify as being traitorous. After all, I'm showing you some of the most secret passages there are here."

"I promise, Trunks, they won't catch me," Yamcha vowed. He crept after Trunks' retreating form, following the younger male into the shadows.

Inside his room, Vegeta stirred awake. He knew it was too early to get out of bed. He knew that he didn't have anything to get out of bed for. It took him a few moments to realize what had awakened him. Over the years, his mockery of a life had left him hopeless. As a warrior, the side effect of hopelessness turned into a form of depression and suicidal tendencies that allowed him to sleep rather hard. He had slept through Yamcha's departure. Vegeta buried his face into the pillow, moaning and cursing in frustration. He clutched at the sheets where Yamcha had been sleeping; feeling the heat that remained even after the other man had left. Moving his head to eye the spot, Vegeta contemplated the rather silly notion of leaning over and trying to fall back asleep.

In the end, that's exactly what he did. He moved his body, wrapping his tail around him defensively. He found the place where Yamcha had been sleeping, turning his face into the pillow. It smelled of the human. Strongly. And it was still warm from body heat. Vegeta whimpered softly. They had slept together. It had been... good. A bit torturous, as he was left alone in the morning after all night of holding the other, as if they were very close friends. Or as if they were more than friends. Gods, his body ached. He wanted to do it again.

Only, without as much clothing on.

Vegeta grinned into the pillow, continuing to inhale the other's scent. He feel asleep again, a small smile on his face, without bothering to take the edge off of his lust. He could wait. He'd done it before. He didn't want to rid the room of Yamcha's smell just yet by overpowering it with his own. He wanted to savor the remnants of his midnight visit.

***

Dawn washed over the outside landscape like water flowing over tile. Captain Ginyu looked up as Krillin left his room. The short human and 18 walked away without a word to him, which was just as well. 'That lady creeps me out.' Next out was Piccolo, whose dark shadow followed him easily away from the corridor. The large, horned guard snorted in displeasure. He was sure that Yamcha wasn't going to show up, AGAIN, and he'd have to spend his entire day standing out in the corridor like some idiot.

So, it came as a great surprise when after Krillin brought the other human breakfast, they both decided it was time for another bath. Ginyu groaned, yet 18 remained as eerily silent as ever. She had a strange look on her face, though, as if something wasn't going according to her plans. The larger guard wasn't about to ask her what her damage was, though, as he knew the lovely android could wipe the floor with him if she even thought he was mocking her. Self-preservation was sometimes the best incentive for intelligence the galaxy ever provided anyone.

The blonde android was not happy. It had been nearly two months since Lord Kakarrot had decided to play his little joke on her and the Ginyu Force by allowing the humans to stay as honored guests, complete with personal guards. She wasn't thrilled at first, but she had thought that this little, weak, pathetic, emotional human would be of some entertainment value over the course of his stay. Perhaps by hitting on her, flirting with her. Perhaps, if she was bored enough, she might have even allowed him to become her lover. But as it was... Krillin hadn't made any kind of overtone that might even suggest actual interest. There was flirting, but one might guess that he flirted with almost everyone. She was beginning to think that he liked guys. After all, he spent all his time with his own sex. One could assume... Well, all in all, it was a rather depressing train of thought. Besides, how could she win if he didn't even want to play the game?

Krillin and Yamcha strode out of the room casually. Krillin stopped, motioning 18 forward with a formal bow and sweep of his hand. The female gave a very unladylike grunt before taking the lead. Krillin and Yamcha followed her. Ginyu took up the rear, bored out of his mind and not paying the slightest bit of attention to his charge. After all, they were only weak humans. When they arrived at the guest bathing pool, they found 17 was there, leaning under a tree. Piccolo was already in the water, obviously finishing up his mediation. Ginyu stopped at the door, turning his back on the scene. If they had been females, the good captain would have naturally have watched, but as it was only a group of men, he did not feel so inclined.

"Hey, Piccolo," Krillin and Yamcha greeted.

Piccolo nodded his head as he leaned back in the heated pool. He didn't particularly care for the heat, but it was close at hand, and it allowed him the opportunity to talk with the others about their situation. Granted, there were eavesdroppers present, but he couldn't get around that. Not yet at least. "Krillin. Yamcha."

"Water good?" Yamcha asked.

"It is the same as it was yesterday," Piccolo replied. Then, with an evil smirk, he had to ask, "So, did you sleep well, Yamcha?"

"Quite well, actually," he answered, the faintest of blushes creeping across his cheeks. "Best night of sleep I've had since we came here."

Reaching the water's edge, Yamcha jumped right into the pool, not even bothering to strip. 18 snorted at the display and went to sit on a rock near her brother. 17, who couldn't smell the human at all, realized that the human's clothes must have reeked of his visit with his former guard. And that was, of course, not a good thing in the palace. 'So,' 17 decided with a smirk, 'Yamcha isn't as dumb as he seems. Good for him.'

The dark-haired human popped his head out from underneath the water, but rose no more than that, and removed his clothing while submerged. He soaped up himself and his clothes while eyeing Piccolo warily. Did he know? Yamcha knew the other male knew he went to visit Vegeta the night before, but did he know how he felt? Could he have figured that out? Maybe. Probably. The human sighed as he continued to scrub himself and his clothes. How much cleaning did they require for Vegeta's smell to no longer linger on them? Maybe he'd just have Piccolo make him some more. Yeah. Maybe so. "Hey, Piccolo, do you mind if I ask for some new clothes?"

"Do you want them now, or when you're out of the pool?" Piccolo asked dryly, softly chuckling at Yamcha's discomfort even as Krillin entered the pool, sans his clothing.

"When it's time to go," Yamcha replied, a slight smile on his face.

"Very well," Piccolo agreed. He looked at the positions of the guards, noticing that Ginyu was again ignoring his duties. The namek sighed in disgust. How the horned warrior had survived this long was anyone's guess. Pitching his voice low enough so as not to be heard, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to the two humans while scanning the area. "So, anything new?"

"Not a damn thing," Krillin remarked. "Though, it's rather hard to explore the place with my blonde and bloodthirsty shadow."

"Yes," Piccolo concurred. "We need to discover the whereabouts of the Mirror of Janus, and we need to discover it soon. It's our only way out of this place. I'm considering asking Trunks for information. He seems to be the most knowledgeable ally we have here. He's also our only ally, so far. Also, as the tournament is fast approaching, and we aren't making any headway in that area, I'm going to start visiting the practice arenas more. Might as well see their moves. I want to learn the rules of their fighting styles. They might be different."

Yamcha and Krillin then began talking in hushed tones about whether or not they thought it would be wise for them to start sparring, or at least practicing in public. Piccolo was trying his best not to glare in the direction of a certain demi-saiyajin. He knew Goten was there, trying to hide away from him. It seemed that no matter where he went, Goten was following him, like someone dressed in yellow trying to blend in with the shadows and not be seen. It was rather silly, but Piccolo didn't know how to discourage the attention. Plus, if Goten was following him, then he wasn't bothering anyone else. Sometimes, though, he just wished the demi-saiyajin would leave him alone. Didn't Goten have better things to do than follow him around?

Piccolo could also feel the presence of Trunks, though how the lavender haired male was staying awake was anyone's guess. Trunks had stayed most of the night with him, talking and retelling history so that Piccolo might have a better understanding. But, what Trunks knew and understood the most was what was currently happening in the Palace. And that was of a great deal of importance, too. There was also the fact that as long as Piccolo knew where Trunks was, he felt a little better about the demi-saiyajin, as if he alone protected the younger male. It was his paternal reaction to children coming out again, like it had when Trunks and Goten, and even Gohan, were younger and less competent.

Goten gazed out from where he sat, hidden amid the shrubbery. He knew the others didn't see him. He knew that no one was wearing a scouter, so therefore they couldn't detect him. But none of that really mattered, considering the only thing, the only person, who held his attention was the large, green, naked man sitting in the pool talking so softly to his companions that it was almost an intimate conversation. He wished he were closer, or had better hearing so that he could hear what they were talking about. Goten knew, however, that he'd have to be part of the conversation to actually hear it, their voices were that low.

Goten scowled in frustration. He didn't really understand why he was there. He knew Gohan was after the strange warrior, but he continuously followed him anyway. It wasn't as if Piccolo had displayed any kind of overt rebelliousness; in fact, he appeared to be quite tame compared to some of the other lower level fighters out there. His train of thought suddenly derailed as he found his eyes locked with the steady gaze of his prey. The prince found himself feeling very much like the rabbit at that moment, not the fox. He knew, he just knew, that Piccolo knew he was there, but he didn't know how. Then even that thought left him as Piccolo stood up out of the pool, water rushing down his green skin.

The dark-haired demi-saiyajin's eyes darted between the other people in the area. 18 was gazing at the sky. 17 appeared to be staring at his own feet. Yamcha and Krillin were so absorbed in their whispering that they noticed no one else. That left him and Piccolo. Piccolo, who was lightly patting himself down with a fluffy white towel. Piccolo, who was still completely without apparel. Piccolo, who seemed to have his eyes locked onto Goten's, even though the smaller male was totally concealed behind the garden foliage. His tongue flickered out over his parched lips as his dark orbs drank in the sight of the green man.

And then the eye contact was broken, and Goten was free to remind himself how to breathe, which he knew, was a very important thing to do. His body was humming again, as if it wanted something, but he didn't understand the tune well enough to give it whatever it was craving. He ached, though. He ached in ways he usually was much better at ignoring. With large, riveted eyes, he watched as Piccolo's clothes magically appeared on him. Amazing. Cautiously, the demi-saiyajin followed the green warrior away from the garden, aware that not only was he hiding from Piccolo, but also from 17, who sometimes seemed to have a sixth sense about where he was.

Far enough behind to remain out of detection, Trunks trailed the other demi-saiyajin. He was positively exhausted, but he wanted to follow Goten a little more before he retired to 17's room. His mother had asked him to do that, after all, and she so very rarely asked anything of him. He wanted to comply as best as he could. So far, all he'd had to report to her was that Goten did nothing but follow Piccolo. He'd seen that the royal made time for his actual work, but there wasn't much of it to be done, so he'd filled the rest of his time with watching the green man. It was odd, he'd surmised, that the prince should take such an overwhelming interest in one of the palace's guests.

Then again, Trunks had already begun to guess why his mother truly wanted him to follow the other demi-saiyajin. There was something about the way that that Goten looked at Piccolo. It wasn't a harsh, cruel, manipulative look. It wasn't the face he'd worn for as long as Trunks had known the dark-haired male. Goten appeared... confused. And he was never really confused. Confusion wasn't all, however. There was something else. Like... Like the way Vegeta looked at Yamcha. Or Zarbon looked at his mother. Trunks frowned deeply as he crept behind Goten. Was there... love? Was this what his mother had theorized? No, surely not. Trunks shook his lavender head. Goten couldn't be in love with Piccolo. Could he?