Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 29: Pangs ( Chapter 29 )

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 29"Class dismissed," Gohan announced. As his class began to quickly vacate the premises, he shouted after them, "Don't forget your papers are due on Monday, and we'll start reviewing for your final!"

In the past, some of the students would lag behind to talk with him. But that didn't happen this semester. Word had gotten out through the underground gossip network that Professor Gohan was -not- his usual, cheerful self this semester. And as time wore on, his students came to him less and less in need of advice or help. Even his colleagues didn't want to have anything to do with him this semester. Which was just as well. He was very lucky to have his lecture notes saved up from previous years, as he just wasn't in the mood to do the research it would take to create new ones.

He picked up his books and notes, packing his small bag. His mind wasn't on his studies. Or rather, his heart wasn't into it. He sighed as he closed the clasp to his bag. He looked up, ready to leave, when he realized that there was indeed one brave soul who wanted to speak with him. "Yes? What is it?"

"Gohan," she said, bowing respectively as she did so, but only to show respect as she was actually above him in the hierarchy of the school's system. In fact, she was the chair of the department, which made her his boss. "May I have a word with you?"

"Sure," Gohan replied stiffly, wanting to deny the request but at the same time knowing he was obligated to accept it.

"I sat in on class today," she started off, clasping her hands in front of her. "It wasn't the first time I've done so this semester. I've been getting some complaints about your performance this term, and I must say I'm in agreement with the students. To use one of their terms, 'Your game is off.' So, would you care to explain what the problem is?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Gohan said, bowing in respect while flushing in embarrassed shame.

"Yes, I can tell. But I don't suppose that's the answer you want to give me, is it?"

"No, ma'am," the demi-saiyajin replied. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, which was growing shaggy since he hadn't bothered to have it cut in a while. "My mind... or rather, my heart is dealing with other... issues presently. It's very distracting."

"What other issues?"

His mind slid back to the beginning of the year when he hadn't left his bedroom except in the middle of the night to grab the leftovers Videl had put away in the refrigerator. All the nights he cried, all the days he dreamed. And when the semester had started and Videl busted down his door to make him go to class, he'd been distant. Though he never spoke about it, all of his time -- class time included -- was spent thinking about that one horrible development that had started with the new year. "Personal ones."

"Talk to me, Gohan. I can't help you if you won't talk," she stated, moving to sit at a chair close by.

"I don't want to talk about it," Gohan answered.

"You must be very frustrated with how your work and personal life are in conflict now."

"Yeah. But, it's not like it matters," Gohan said softly. Despite the fact that he didn't particularly trust her, he rather thought it might be cathartic to get even just a small part of his problem off his chest. He pulled up a chair so that he could sit across from his boss, but he didn't actually look her in the face as he began to speak. "It's like this: I know how things are supposed to go, and I know that people are supposed to be content with their lives. But... It's like I found out that everything I thought was true was suddenly wrong. Very, very wrong. And I don't know how to make it right. I can't use physical force. And I can't use any kind of book learning I'm familiar with... I want to fix it and make everything right. But the only person who sees things as being wrong is me, so if I'm the only one who's seeing it as wrong, does it make the situation wrong, or does it make me wrong?"

"Tell me. For everyone else involved in this situation, are they happy with it?"

"Yes. Yes, they're very happy with it."

"And it's healthy."

"Yes. It's all fine. It's just... it's wrong. The entire situation is wrong!"

"Why?"

"Because! Because they're wrong. They're both wrong."

The department head pondered this for a moment. Clearly, Gohan's problem was relationship-associated. Perhaps to do with his wife? Was his wife cheating on him, and he found out about it? Or maybe... "Because you're not a part of it?"

Gohan pressed his lips in a tight line, his eyes practically boring a hole into the floor. He didn't want to answer her. He couldn't. He wasn't willing to cross that line.

"Because they don't include you in it?"

"... I don't want to talk anymore."

"So be it, Gohan," she replied, having learned a great deal by what was said and what wasn't said. She rather thought that she knew him well, so this semester's departure from his normal self had her worried. "Well. This semester is almost over, and then you'll have a nice, long summer break to straighten out your... issues. If, however, you come back in the fall and things have not changed, we -will- meet with the dean and discuss your future here. So. I suggest you get your act together. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gohan nodded, standing up as she did.

"Good," she said, bowing slightly again. "Go home, Gohan. Get your life in order."

Instead of going to his office like he normally would have done, and instead of going to his home as his boss had ordered him to do, Gohan remained in the room for some time. He didn't know who to talk to about his situation. How could he tell someone, anyone, that he couldn't stand his wife? They had separate rooms for a reason. He didn't like her hands on him. He didn't like her voice, even when it was a low purr whispered in his ear. He had married her to please his family and hated himself ever since.

If he had been able to choose his own life mate, he would have chosen Piccolo. He had loved Piccolo with his entire soul and would have done anything the namek asked without question. He still felt that way. Yet for some inexplicable reason, they never progressed much into the physical side of their unspoken relationship. But they had kissed. And they had held each other. And that had been enough until his mother insisted he get serious about Videl.

Gohan sat down again as he thought of kissing the namek. He let out a soft groan as the only mental picture that came to mind was of that moment when Piccolo stood kissing Prince Goten. He remembered how Piccolo tasted, as if it were yesterday. It wasn't yesterday, though. It had been a long, long time since he had been able to give in to his desires. The professor placed his head on his folded forearms. He knew he had betrayed Piccolo by bowing to the wishes of his family. But he had always hoped that, one day...

That day hadn't come, though. And it seemed that that day never would.

His body began a fine trembling as Gohan fought back the tears. He had tried to make everyone happy, but no one had been. He was a coward. He knew it. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to live in peace, and in happiness, but those two things -- those two simple things -- were denied to him. Worst of all, his actions had caused Piccolo to find someone else, someone who he obviously loved. Now, no matter what Gohan did, he knew that he would always be alone.

He hadn't gone back to visit with Piccolo since he had returned from the parallel world; it had been too... well, it was awkward for him. Gohan rather thought that it would be best if he didn't go see him, as it was just a painful reminder of what he couldn't have. But he needed to. He needed to see Piccolo. He was the only person who understood him. He was the only person who knew what it was like to be denied.

Only... Piccolo wasn't denied anymore. He had someone who loved him and whom he loved. He was happy. And it wasn't Gohan who made him happy. That thought only made Gohan feel even more alone and abandoned.

Checking the clock, the demi-saiyajin stood up. It was almost time for the cleaning crew to lock up the room. He needed to get out of there. 'I need to get my life in order...'

***

The bass drum pulsating through Vegeta's club was threatening to give its owner a headache. Pulling back the sleeve on his left arm, he raised his wrist to read the time on his watch. 'I can't believe it's only 10 o'clock. Can't 17 play something slower? Grrr. I'm going to blow up those fucking speakers.'

He knew that the music wasn't the reason for the headache, but that didn't stop the noise from making it worse. He knew the real reason for his headache was Yamcha.

Not too long ago, he had finally caught on to the song that Yamcha was always humming. Of course, he hadn't realized what it was until he had heard the human actually singing it. He had come home one night, early from the club, and found the entire condo cast in darkness. At first, Vegeta had thought nothing of that small fact, as it had still been late, and the scarred human had taken it upon himself to become active again, succeeding in occupying himself enough so that he was rather tired by 11 at night. But on that night, he had found Yamcha was still up. He was sitting on a chair, leaning on the railing of the balcony. And he was singing.

Vegeta had walked softly to the boundaries between the balcony and the living room, simply listening to the almost forgotten lyrics. He had never thought to actually hear that song sung by anyone else, even if he had heard it in his dreams. When it was over, Vegeta had, without thinking, informed his companion, "That was beautifully done."

"Vegeta!" Yamcha spun around, nearly tripping as he more or less fell out of his chair. "What are you doing here? Did you actually hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you," Vegeta replied, leaning up against the doorframe. "I enjoyed hearing you sing it."

"Oh. Well..." Yamcha flushed. "It was the only song Geta taught me. It's... just a lullaby."

Vegeta stood straight at that, his eyes glinting dangerously in the pale light of the clear night. "It is not -just- a lullaby."

"Huh?" Yamcha asked, taken aback by how quickly Vegeta had taken offense, though he knew that the prince had a short temper.

"That song is -not- a lullaby to begin with," Vegeta snorted before he smirked. "It's a betrothal song."

"What?!" Yamcha exclaimed, jerking back.

"It's... a custom. And you singing it -- out in public, I might add -- just confirms my earlier statements. You are mine," Vegeta took a single step out onto the balcony, stepping close to the ex-bandit.

"Like hell I am," Yamcha retorted. "I thought it was a lullaby."

"Now you know otherwise," Vegeta answered him, his voice soft. It took all of his control not to grab the taller male. Not to touch him. "So, unless you want to publicize our engagement, -don't- go singing that in a place where others might be able to hear. And unless you want to admit that you -are- mine, don't sing it so that -I- can hear you."

Yamcha glared down at him, and bit out, "Don't worry. You won't be hearing me sing it. Ever." And then he slid past Vegeta, who was willing to let him retreat, and walked back into their home and back into his room. Vegeta had watched him go. That was the beginning of when his headache started, and even though the incident had occurred several weeks beforehand, the ache still hadn't let up.

Vegeta spotted Piccolo and Goten in the crowd beneath him, speaking with some blonde girl. Catching Piccolo's eyes, he gave the namek a sharp nod in greeting, which the other man returned. Suddenly, the beat changed slightly, and Vegeta froze. He recognized that particular piece, appropriately nicknamed 'The Headache Song' due to its high-pitched and speedy melody. He absolutely -hated- it. 'I thought I told him never to play that goddamned song again!' Swiftly rushing down the stairs towards the DJ booth, Vegeta pushed by his son and Chibi grinding on the dance floor, effectively breaking up their raunchy dance style. "17!" Vegeta shouted over the music. "Don't play that song!"

"Why?" 17 replied. "Everyone likes it."

"Take a look out into the crowd and see if you can pick out something tall, green, and easily able to kick your mechanical ass!"

The raven-haired android peered out among the masses and quickly spotted Piccolo, who he knew to have sensitive ears. Even though his excellent eyesight could see that the taller male appeared to be wearing earplugs of some sort, he had resolved not to give the namek a reason to try to injure him, so he concurred with Vegeta. "All right, all right. I'll mix it to something else. Now, get out of my booth."

"It is -my- booth, android," Vegeta hissed, grabbing his arm roughly. "You'd be wise to remember that."

17 jerked his arm out of the saiyajin's grasp, rolling his eyes. Ignoring the unspoken threat, he went about his job. In a few seconds, he had removed the offensive music track out of rotation. "Happy, now?"

"Get rid of that song. I don't ever want to hear it in my club again. Is that understood?"

"Fine, fine, fine. You'll never hear it in here again," 17 replied. As he watched Vegeta stomp away, he smirked. 'But that doesn't mean I won't play it when you -aren't- here.'

Vegeta made his way back through the crowd and over to the bar, snagging himself a glass of scotch rather than trusting one of his employees to pour it for him. Taking a swig, he saw Piccolo give Goten a kiss and then head for the front door. The short saiyajin moved over to Goten and the girl with whom he was speaking. Nodding to Goten, he asked, "Where did he run off to?"

"Home," answered the younger male. "He was up early today taking care of some things for Dende."

"Hn," Vegeta replied, as he turned to look at the girl for a moment.

The blonde female with Goten scrutinized Vegeta quickly. "You're... the owner, aren't you?"

"I am," he nodded.

"I think I know a friend of yours. Used to come into my shop all the time. He came in just the other day," she said, "which surprised me because I hadn't seen him in, like, a year."

"Who are you?" Vegeta asked surprised, because he didn't have that many friends. Or at least, he didn't have anyone who would volunteer that information without some kind of fighting being involved.

"Opal," smiled the petite blonde. "I'm the sales manager at Malfaire on Third Street."

"Vegeta. I think I've been there," he commented. "With the big, round red couch."

"That's the one."

"So what friend is it that you think you know?"

Opal looked pensive for a second, then said, "He's a baseball player--or he -used- to be a baseball player. Good-looking guy. He has a scar? On his face." She ran her finger down her face, to indicate what the scar looked like. "But what is his name..."

"Yamcha," Vegeta managed.

"Right! Yamcha," she smiled. "I was telling him he should check out this club, and then he told me his friend owned the place. Spoke very highly of you."

"He did? What did he say?" demanded the saiyajin.

Trunks and Chibi abruptly popped out of the crowd and into the group, cutting off any response the blonde was about to make. "Hey, Goten," Trunks greeted. "Are you sure you don't want to dance with us? I mean, now that Piccolo's gone and all..."

"No," came the curt response.

Chibi grinned at their blonde companion. "How about you? You wanna dance with us?"

"As long as it doesn't bother you that I'm gay," Opal answered as she tried to figure out if this new person and Goten were twins.

"Not at all," Chibi laughed. "So are we."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'd love to," she laughed.

"Great!" replied Trunks, grabbing her hand. He waved to Goten and Vegeta. "See you later."

She managed to wave to Goten as she disappeared into the crowd with the two males.

Vegeta watched her go, biting his lip. He wanted to know what Yamcha had said about him. At home, Yamcha seemed to hate him. So how was it in public the human spoke well of him? Vegeta scowled. His headache was getting worse.

Goten looked at the shorter male. He could see Vegeta's confusion and knew that it was there because of Opal's reference to Yamcha. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Vegeta had feelings for the human, though Goten surmised that this attraction only began -after- Yamcha wasn't a constant presence in his life. He crossed his arms. "So, Vegeta... How is Yamcha?"

"He's not holed up in his room, crying, anymore," Vegeta stated, taking a swig of his drink again. He turned to look at the younger male as he spoke, just so that he could be heard over the noise most everyone else called music.

The demi-saiyajin raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What does he do all day now?"

"He goes out. I don't know where exactly," answered the older male. "Baseball games or something. I can usually hear crowds and cheering in the background."

"In the background?" Goten asked, moving with Vegeta away from the dance floor and towards a quieter area. One that wasn't so crowded. He had gradually been learning to relax a bit since he came to this dimension. He had learned that there wasn't a need to be on constant alert. Things were peaceful here, for the most part, and almost everyone with whom he had come into contact was more than trusting with him. It was as if they thought that there wasn't such a thing as evil. He knew better, though, and knew that no matter how relaxed he was, he wasn't quite capable of relaxing all the way.

"On the phone," Vegeta nodded. He preferred it upstairs, where there was room to breathe and room to move. Downstairs, on the dance floor level, there wasn't even room to think.

"You... talk to him on the phone while he's... out and about?" Goten asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Cell phone," clarified Vegeta. "He's supposed to call me every other hour on the hour."

The young male couldn't hide his smirk. "Well. I see you're still obsessive over his care."

"I am not obsessive," the saiyajin grounded out.

"As you say," Goten bowed, as if giving the other prince his due.

Goten stood next to Vegeta along the catwalk railing of the older man's nightclub, gazing down into the throngs of bodies moving to the energetic beat of the music. His eyes drifted over the crowd to 17 in the DJ booth. Smirking, he could see that some of the people near him were more interested in their DJ than his music. Currently, a tall, thin young girl had herself draped on the android. Squinting his eyes, Goten recognized her as Julia, the other salesgirl in Opal's shop. "17 seems to be quite popular," the demi-saiyajin commented.

"Yes. Very popular," Vegeta nodded. "Highly selective in the music he chooses but not so much in the company he keeps. Keeps him very popular, indeed."

"What do you mean?"

"Sex is his favorite pastime."

"Oh."

Vegeta glared at him for a moment, still unable to let go of the comment about his 'obsession'. "So, what do -you- do all day while Piccolo is out helping save the world from the trivial disasters that threaten it?"

"I work for your ex-wife," Goten replied, moving to sit down at a corner table, with his back to one of the walls. He made sure to leave another wall open for Vegeta, so that they could both watch the rest of the area around them. Even though they were vastly more powerful than anyone who might have given them trouble, it was always best to remain alert and able to see an attack coming. Even a weaker opponent could take the strongest fighter down if there was an element of surprise involved. "I design houses for her."

"Oh? You can actually tolerate that harpy?" Vegeta asked with an almost affectionate smirk. As much as he liked to fight with her, and as much as she hurt him, he knew he had hurt her as well, and that their fighting was about the only way they ever managed to show affection for each other.

"She's... an interesting person to work for," Goten replied. Truth to tell, sometimes she scared him, but it wasn't as if he was frightened of her overpowering him. More like, he was afraid that, at times, she was quite insane. But then, she'd run off and start to create some miracle machine that he would never have thought the world needed. "But I only work for her a few hours of the day. The rest of the time, if I'm not with Piccolo, I explore or watch television, trying to learn some of the human culture."

"Oh, and what have you found?" Vegeta asked with a smirk of his own, thinking of all the shows out there that would give the younger male all kinds of wrong ideas about the world around them.

"I've learned that I never want to be on a talk show," Goten said with a stern nod. "And heroes never really die."

Vegeta blinked at him a moment, and then smiled. "Hn. Interesting things you've discovered."

"Yeah. But... I rather think I'd prefer a good sparring session to watching another soap opera. In fact, I know I'd rather spar against someone far stronger than me before I watch another episode of 'Passions'," Goten said, eyeing the saiyajin next to him.

"That bad, huh?" Vegeta snickered. "Don't you and Piccolo spar?"

"Yes. And he's helping me become a better fighter, as well," Goten nodded. "When he's home and willing. Speaking of home and willing... what do -you- do when Yamcha's not at home?"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the insolence of his companion. True, for the first time in his life, he wasn't training every day. In fact, it had been well over a few months since he -had- been training. He felt it was best to divert attention away from himself by asking, "Is Piccolo gone all that much that you want a new partner?"

"Quite the contrary. He's home a lot," Goten replied, blushing profusely. He cleared his throat as Vegeta grinned at him, knowing the elder male understood that while Piccolo -was- home a lot, they weren't using that time to simply spar. "And we do spar a bit. But, I'd still like the opportunity to learn from someone else as well as Piccolo."

"Hn." Vegeta began, "Well, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I do believe you have the best teacher you could find already training with you."

"What about you? You're supposedly strong. Capable," Goten stated, well aware of how much pride Vegeta had to have swallowed to admit that Piccolo was better at something than he was.

"I've neither the patience nor the skill," Vegeta returned. "And honestly, I don't have the inclination. He's the one who spent practically years training Gohan. He's spent a fair amount of time teaching the two brats, even if was just temporary. I swear, if I had to train either of them, much less both of them at the same time, I'd have just signed over this world and said good riddance."

"Still," Goten sighed, "it would be good to see how someone else fought."

The saiyajin turned that over in his head. Admittedly, what the younger male was saying was true. Despite the namek's strength, Vegeta knew that as far as skill alone went, there was no better teacher than Piccolo, as he relied on that more than anything. But brute strength could overcome skill if it was strong enough. Yes, Goten did have a point. "All right."

"All right?" the demi-saiyajin asked.

"Heh. You know...," Vegeta said, inwardly pleased at the prospect of getting back into the routine of fighting again. "I think I'd rather enjoy myself, kicking your ass with Piccolo around and him knowing I was doing it. And him knowing that you asked for it."

"Heh. Don't be so sure you'd beat me," Goten grinned. "Keep in mind, you're going to be getting phone calls every two hours. I guess that will be a good thing, as it will allow me the opportunity to kick -your- ass, and then have Yamcha come pick you up."

Vegeta's smirk suddenly turned into a frown. Pulling up on his sleeve again to see his watch, he saw that it was a quarter after 11. He grabbed at the cell phone clipped to his waist and flipped it open. His scowl deepened.

"What's wrong?" inquired Goten. Noticing the look on Vegeta's face and the phone in his hand, he put two and two together. "Did you miss his call?"

"He didn't call," Vegeta groused. Pressing the first speed-dial number on his phone, he heard it ringing and ringing until Yamcha's voice mail picked up. He shut the phone angrily without breaking it. "I have to go."

***

It was raining, heaven's tears falling to earth and mingling with those of the demi-saiyajin across from him. Piccolo stood under the downpour, at a total loss.

He had left Goten at the club, feeling Gohan's presence nearby and knowing that his former pupil was upset. He could feel the young man's confusion even through the distance that separated them and even through the static that was the rest of the world. He and Gohan had been close, once. But even after all that time, there was still a bond between them. Gohan was still his friend. So, Piccolo knew he had to see what was troubling him. Strangely, it had seemed as if Gohan were trying to find him, as the demi-saiyajin had been flying straight towards him. They met up in the sky, almost halfway between Vegeta's club and the university.

And there they floated. Gohan tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing, but he couldn't find the words he wanted to say. Finally, he gave up and simply shook his head as he began to cry, hugging himself as he did so.

"Gohan," began Piccolo. He took in the state of disarray in which the demi-saiyajin was, from the completely rain-soaked clothing to the drenched mop of ebony hair to the tears the rain could not mask. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was looking for you," he answered, drinking the sight of Piccolo dressed in normal clothes like a drunkard would his alcohol.

"Well, I figured out that much," Piccolo stated. He smirked a bit to take the edge off of his words, fully aware of the mental and emotional fragility that his companion suffered.

Gohan gave him a half-hearted smile. "Still that in tune with me, huh?"

"Old habits die hard," admitted the namek. "Do you need to talk to me?"

"Can we go somewhere?" Gohan asked, visibly shaking. Just hearing Piccolo's voice was soothing. "Just... somewhere. Please."

"What about your office? That's nearby," Piccolo suggested.

Gohan nodded his head vehemently, before he took off in that direction, Piccolo right beside him. It felt good to be like that again, side by side, flying. But it was indeed a short flight and over far sooner than Gohan would have liked. They landed on the cobblestone sidewalk before Gohan produced the key to allow them into the warm, dry interior of the building. They walked in silence towards the demi-saiyjin's office, both of them trying to collect their thoughts and trying to figure out what to say.

Piccolo closed the door behind him and turned to see Gohan stepping out of his wet shoes and socks, and tossing his wet shirt to the back of the chair behind his desk to dry. There were other, more comfortable chairs around the room and a fluffy couch against the wall. Piccolo opted for one of the chairs, sitting with one ankle propped up on his knee. Gohan sat on the couch, his head lowered, his hands clasped in front of him, and his elbows resting on his knees. The pale-skinned professor looked very young at that moment.

All at once, Piccolo broke the uncomfortable silence. "You're going to have to tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you won't tell me."

"My life is falling apart," Gohan stated.

"I... I don't think I understand," Piccolo spoke softly, as Gohan fell quiet.

"My mother is raising my daughter. Videl and I have been sleeping in different bedrooms for the past several years. I'm in danger of losing a job that means a lot to me. I lost my best friend for a year, but now, he's back, and he has someone else," Gohan rattled off. He didn't think about what he was saying; he just knew he had to say it. All of it. And he knew that he could trust Piccolo; no matter what else happened, he knew he would always be able to trust Piccolo.

"Gohan...," Piccolo said. It was the only thing he could think of to say. How had his friend come to such a state?

The tears began to fall again, but they didn't stop the demi-saiyajin from continuing. "I know I betrayed you. And I know I never should have married Videl. And I know that you deserve to be happy, regardless of whether or not I'm happy. And I know I don't deserve to be happy after I did what I did."

"Wait...," Piccolo tried, sitting forward.

"I know you love him," Gohan interrupted. That hurt. That hurt to admit. He still didn't want to believe it, that Piccolo had fallen for someone else. His tears fell freely, and he didn't bother wiping them away anymore. "I saw the way you looked at him. And the way you kissed him. He's... He makes you happy. And I know you deserve that. I really do. But I hate it. And I hate myself for hating it."

"Gohan, stop..." With every word that Gohan said, the demi-saiyajin's control broke a little bit more, and the green male was afraid that by the end of the tirade there wasn't going to be enough left of friend to piece together.

"No, I have to say this. I can't stop yet." Gohan brought his head up and looked Piccolo directly in his eyes. "I am so sorry for everything I've done to you. I'm so sorry I fucked everything up. I never wanted it to be like this. I love you, Piccolo. I have always loved you. And I'm not going to stop. I can't."

Before Piccolo could do or say anything else, Gohan lowered his head again. The younger male's tears soon drove him to his knees, falling off of the couch. Piccolo was at a loss as to what to do. He had never felt so incredibly helpless in his life. 'This is not happening. This cannot be happening. What the -hell- am I supposed to do -now-?' He tried to talk to Gohan, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he found that he didn't have a thing to say.

Gohan wasn't paying any attention to the turmoil he was causing in the green warrior, as he was too wrapped up in his own pain. Still crying, he leaned forward, resting his head on Piccolo's lap. He closed his tear-filled eyes as he felt the namek rest a hand on his head, wanting the contact more than he wanted anything else. The feel of Piccolo petting his hair and head soothed him some, so that he was able to catch his breath. "I'm so sorry. Don't hate me. Please, don't hate me. I couldn't bear it if you hated me."

"Shhh," Piccolo said, managing to scoop up the large male in his arms. Holding the demi-saiyajin in a way that he never would have while they were training all those years ago, he cradled Gohan to him, as if the tall adult was nothing more than a child. He tucked Gohan's head into the curve of his neck, kissing his forehead lightly as he began to rock him. In turn, Gohan clutched at his still wet clothes. He held the scholar to him tightly, rocking back and forth. "I know, Gohan. I knew. Shhh. I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"I love you, Piccolo," Gohan whispered, over and over again, as if it was a mantra or prayer. He wasn't even fully aware of saying it, he just felt better each time he did. His tears were slowing in their course, and he felt safe and content for the first time in a very, very long time. And if he could fool himself into thinking that that moment would last forever, he was sure that he might even be happy.

"Shhh." Piccolo tried not to listen to what he was saying. He had wanted to hear Gohan say those words for so long. But his timing couldn't have possibly been worse. Running his fingers lightly through the younger man's hair, Piccolo knew he'd always feel something for Gohan; he'd spent so much of his life loving him that he couldn't fathom stopping altogether. However, he was no longer in love with him. He was in love with Goten.

Outside, the rain was still falling.

***

Vegeta was angry. And he was wet. And he was worried. And he was just getting home, from the nightclub. It was the first place he was checking, and he wanted it to be the only place he was checking. With his heart beating in his chest, harder and faster than it did when he was in mortal combat, he burst in to the condo.

Yamcha looked up from where he was laying on the couch. The rest of the house was cast in complete darkness, but the television was on. Yamcha was in his sleep pants and held the remote control in his hand. Glancing over to the digital clock on the disc player, he read the time. "It's 11:27."

"You didn't call," Vegeta stated, ignoring Yamcha's announcement of the time. He shut the door with barely a flick of the wrist, mindful that he had to keep his temper under control.

"Twenty-seven minutes," the human continued. "Pretty late, considering your club can't be more than five blocks away."

"You were supposed to call at 11," responded the saiyajin, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh, I know," Yamcha said, turning back to look at the television.

Vegeta waited to see if he would say anything more, but when Yamcha didn't, he asked, "Why didn't you call when you were supposed to?"

"I just wanted to see how long it'd take you to come find me if I didn't call."

"... Is that supposed to be funny?" Vegeta growled, allowing his anger to show.

"Well, I'm amused," Yamcha retorted dryly, still laying down.

"You mean you have me half-worried out of my mind just because you wanted to yank my chain?!" The saiyajin's voice rose with each word, but he held his temper in check as best as he could. He knew that he would have to keep his temper under control. This game of seduction was mostly a game of strategy, and Vegeta was almost to the point of giving up. Either give up or force the issue. But he didn't want to force the issue! He wanted Yamcha willing.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"You--you--you--ARGH!" Vegeta stomped past Yamcha into his room, slamming the door shut, though not hard enough to break anything.

Yamcha sat there for a few minutes, and after not hearing any more sounds coming from Vegeta's room, he went over to the door. He knocked once and leaned forward, trying to listen in. He had expected the prince to get a bit testy at having been snubbed. He hadn't expected him to be so angry. After a moment's more thought, Yamcha figured that the shorter male was also hurt by his actions, though he wasn't sure why. "Vegeta?"

"Go away!"

"Vegeta... I didn't think you'd take it so hard," Yamcha reasoned.

"I said, go away!"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" apologized the human. When he didn't hear anything again, he leaned his back up against the door. 'Crap.'

Vegeta was sitting on the floor against the foot of his bed. He had his forehead resting on his fists, but he perked up at Yamcha's apology. He had never had anyone apologize to him. For anything. "What?"

"I said I was sorry. I didn't think you'd take it so hard," Yamcha sighed. "I mean, I'm not about to do anything stupid. I--"

Vegeta yanked open the door. Yamcha, unprepared for the act, had most of his weight resting on the piece of wood, and when it disappeared from behind him, he fell backwards. As Vegeta was behind him, the prince easily caught the ex-thief, but that meant they both fell to the ground.

Yamcha quickly turned over where he was laying, but he didn't get off of Vegeta. Instead, he was more or less on all fours over the shorter male. Vegeta rose up on his elbows, his dark eyes full of confusion. They were so close to each other, their faces mere inches apart, that Yamcha felt burned by the heat radiating off of the prince. They stared at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to react first.

Vegeta felt his pulse pounding in his throat and knew that he was trembling. He wanted to reach up and pull Yamcha down to him. He wanted it so badly it was physical. 'Fuck it. I'll deal with the consequences later.' He narrowed his eyes and leaned up slowly, brushing his lips under the other male's.

Yamcha gasped at the delicate caress, surprised by it and by the sudden flash of heat that flared through his entire body at the contact. In retaliation to Vegeta's move, Yamcha dipped his head and captured the prince's lips with his, pressing them together for a moment. In that moment, his heart rate accelerated and his body began to hum.

Vegeta's eyes flew open before closing to slits. He couldn't believe Yamcha was kissing -him-! Or was he? Before the prince had time to mull the thought over, Yamcha's tongue was slipping across the seam of his lips, and Vegeta couldn't deny the other male's request.

Yamcha pressed forward, dipping his tongue into the heat of Vegeta's mouth, savoring the prince's flavor. He fairly purred as he felt Vegeta return the kiss, matching his hunger. He felt fingers running through his hair before cupping the back of his head, tilting his head in a different angle. He was happy to oblige, as long as he got to play first. He broke the kiss for a moment, taking Vegeta's lower lip between his teeth.

Vegeta, the proud Prince of All Saiyajins, whimpered. He burned. He wanted. His blood was like lava as it flowed through his body, burning him from the inside out. He had wanted this for so long, to feel the flesh the phantoms and dreams had promised. But to his disappointment, Yamcha suddenly pulled away.

Yamcha blinked glazed eyes down at him, surprised at the sound, before blushing a shade of crimson Vegeta had never seen on any human. The scarred human began to stammer an apology, though he was pretty sure that it wasn't coming out in any kind of discernable or decipherable way. He moved off of Vegeta, falling back instead of standing up like he had been planning to do.

Vegeta sat up, watching the human's lips moving, but his pulse was pounding so loudly that he couldn't hear what was being said. With a sigh, he leaned forward and placed a single finger on Yamcha's lips, silencing him. When he was sure that the human would remain quiet, he removed his finger. But then, there was only silence between them.

Yamcha licked his lips as Vegeta removed his finger, flashing his tongue out before the prince had moved the digit far enough away. The short saiyajin closed his eyes a moment, before sliding them back open. The desert bandit's brow creased as he realized with a start that Vegeta tasted... different. He was different from Geta. He had known that Vegeta and Geta were different. This just went to prove it further. After an unbearable amount of time had passed with no one moving or talking, Yamcha couldn't take it anymore. Blushing, he murmured, "I'm sorry. Again."

"Don't apologize to me. I should be apologizing to you," Vegeta said as he stood up, offering his hand down to Yamcha. It was a gesture he didn't make often. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he -had- made it.

"What? Why?" Yamcha asked, taking the proffered hand. When he was up, he noticed that Vegeta held onto his hand just slightly longer than needed, which made him blush delicately.

"The two brats... They used the dragonballs and... wished that someone would know what was happening wherever you were," Vegeta remarked, turning partially away from his human companion.

"In... the other dimension."

"Yes," Vegeta nodded, looking towards the ground. The prince knew Yamcha had a right to know, though.

"So, someone saw everything? Knew exactly what was happening?" Yamcha asked, not sure what that had to do with anything, or why that would be a reason for Vegeta to apologize.

"In a manner of speaking." He had walked a year in another man's shoes, and only now was he stumbling so badly that he wasn't sure he'd be able to regain his footing.

"What does that mean?"

"They weren't very... specific... when they made their wish."

"What happened? Who knew?" Yamcha practically demanded, worried that someone might have hurt themselves or caused hurt to themselves because of what they saw in the other dimension.

Vegeta turned to look at Yamcha again, his dark eyes confused yet piercing at the same time. "I knew."