Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 30: Triangle ( Chapter 30 )

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 30Vegeta sat at the table across from Goten, stuffing his face. He decided the younger prince was a decent cook, though not as good as Piccolo, strangely enough. But Goten was a quick learner, and since he loved the Food Channel, he'd taken to cooking pretty well. 'Better than the woman's, at least,' he thought.

It still amused the saiyajin to think about Piccolo cooking. He'd been taken aback, at first, as he was pretty sure that nameks only drank water for sustenance. Apparently, that just wasn't so. Vegeta had even asked him where he'd learned to cook.

"You don't think Chichi was around the whole time cooking for Goku and Gohan when we were training, do you?" Piccolo had said.

The tall warrior had further elaborated slightly, and truth be known, it made sense. He knew, after all, that Piccolo was the fastest learner amongst them all, and the fact that he had picked up cooking quickly didn't surprise him as much as the fact that Piccolo had picked up cooking in the first place.

A flick of a brown tail caught the saiyajin's eye, and he broke out of his reverie to look at the demi-saiyajin prince across from him. He and Goten had been sparring for the past six weeks, and it felt good to be back in the habit. He only sparred in the afternoons, though, as he tended to go to his club and view the happenings until it closed. That meant he was sleeping in later than to which he was accustomed. But the time of the matches didn't concern either of them anymore. Not since Piccolo started working as a doorman for Vegeta.

It had been an interesting idea, one that Vegeta had been thinking about since Piccolo's first appearance at his club. He knew that Piccolo was strong, but he had been suppressing his chi that night. Even so, the crowd parted for the green man wherever he went, and he somehow managed to be an island surrounded by a small sea of space in the usually packed first floor. The prince knew that Goten was leading an increasingly busy life, so the namek did have time to kill. And since the demi-saiyajin's business schedule was flexible, Piccolo would want a schedule equally as flexible. The fact that he had gone through over two-dozen doormen in the past year also played a part in his plan, and he knew that Piccolo, if committed to the job, wouldn't give a horrible excuse to quit as most of the others did. Piccolo would never say, "I'd really like to stay and work for you... but I can't. I've got the chance to be a stand-in for the next Mr. Satan movie!"

With the addition of Piccolo as his doorman, the club had slowly been transforming into something it hadn't been before. He still wasn't sure what that something else was, but he wasn't about to complain or to question it. He was still making a profit. Though, he didn't really know what to do with that profit anymore.

The saiyajin prince shook his head, droplets of water spraying everywhere. Everyday after they sparred, they returned to Piccolo's and Goten's home to shower and to eat. Which was how and when Vegeta discovered the discrepancies between the demi-saiyajin's and the namek's cooking skills.

Out of nowhere, Goten asked, "So, did Piccolo and Gohan used to fuck or what?"

Which caused Vegeta to spray the water he had been drinking all over the floor next to him.

"You -are- cleaning that up, right?" the demi-saiyajin further inquired, raising his eyebrows.

Once he'd recovered, Vegeta finally sputtered out, "What did you just ask me?"

"I asked if you were going to clean up the water you just spit all over my floor." The younger man hid his grin behind the action of taking a bite out of a large piece of bread.

"No, before that," Vegeta retorted, though his voice still sounded a bit strained, even to him.

"Oh. I asked if Piccolo and Gohan used to fuck. But I just said that to get your attention."

"Well, it worked," the shorter male replied. He wasn't sure if the younger male was or wasn't serious about wanting to discuss the namek's sex life, or love life, or however anyone wanted to phrase it. He had done a lot of things in his many years of life, but gossip wasn't really one of them. Granted, he had given information in the past. But that was different. That wasn't as... embarrassing.

"I know they didn't, by the way," Goten informed his royal companion. He grinned as Vegeta looked at him, but the smile quickly disappeared. "But I was hoping you could help fill in the blanks. You've known them for a long time, haven't you?"

"I have," Vegeta agreed cautiously.

"What can you tell me about their... relationship?" Goten asked, trying to be careful in how he phrased the question.

"That's a question for Piccolo. You should be asking him."

"I don't want to embarrass him by calling his past relationships, whatever they might be, into question. Besides, you're here, Piccolo isn't, and it's bugging me now," Goten sighed, leaning back in his chair. He had been wondering about it for the past few weeks, truthfully. Ever since the night that Piccolo came home and...

When Piccolo came home late, after leaving the club early, Goten had been in the shower. Piccolo had joined him, but they had simply bathed together, touching each other. There had been nights when there had been no sex of any kind, but that didn't mean tactile affection was missing. And this was one of those nights. Goten had asked where Piccolo had been, and why he had been so late. The larger green male had answered and answered honestly. He had been with Gohan, trying to help the younger man deal with the fact that things change. After they had showered, they had dried off and climbed into bed. Goten automatically moved in to be close with Piccolo, wrapping his tail around the taller male's leg. He remembered how Piccolo pulled him close; holding him tightly far longer than he usually did, as if the young prince was the only defense against some threat.

It had been the first night that Goten realized that while he loved Piccolo and trusted him completely, and that Piccolo loved and trusted him and was completely loyal, there was a complication. Or rather, complications. The other demi-saiyajins.

Vegeta could understand that for the most part. He'd sooner ask one of Yamcha's other friends about him rather than Yamcha himself. The objectivity of an uninvolved party was always safer. "All right. But I don't know any details."

"That's fine," Goten replied sitting forward, eager for any information he could get.

"So, what do you want to know?"

"Do you know how... close they were?"

"Piccolo died for Gohan once. Or twice...," Vegeta began, trying to think back. He tried to remember his first appearance on the planet known as Earth, and then the traveling to Planet Namek. And then the times of crisis thereafter. "No, I think it was just that one time. They were best friends from childhood, but only after Piccolo stopped trying to destroy Earth. Or take over the world. Something."

"Piccolo tried to destroy this planet?" Goten asked, more than a bit surprised by this new piece of information. No one else had bothered to mention it to him.

"Yeah. Back when he was still the Big Bad," Vegeta smirked, an evil glint to his eyes. "Then I came along, and he joined forces with the 'heroes'. That's when he died for Gohan, by the way. He was just a kid."

"Ah. I see." Goten paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to properly word his next question. "But did they ever... get together?"

"In that... 'I-love-you-You-love-me-Let's-live-happily-ever-after' crappy kind of way?"

"... Something like that."

"Not really."

"Um, 'not really'? Can't you be a bit more specific than that?"

"They were never officially...," Vegeta paused, trying to find the proper term. He knew that they were in a relationship, but he didn't know how to phrase it so that Goten would understand the context. "... Dating, I suppose is the right word."

"But?" Goten encouraged him. He needed to know. It was part of Piccolo's past, and he needed to understand it. He may not -like- it, but he needed to know it just the same.

"They clearly had affection for each other in that way."

Goten sat back as he thought on this. A slow scowl began to form on his face at the possibilities that presented themselves to him. This Gohan was an unknown with very deep ties to Piccolo. Granted, Goten knew that Piccolo was completely loyal and trustworthy. But Gohan wasn't.

Vegeta sensed Goten getting too deep into his own thoughts, so he continued, "Nothing ever came of it. Gohan married Videl. Piccolo has been alone ever since. Until you."

"Okay. Thanks," Goten replied, still scowling, but willing to dismiss the conversation. Vegeta, on the other hand, wasn't going to let it drop just yet.

Vegeta growled low in his throat. He didn't like the idea that he might have somehow managed to screw up a relationship for the other prince or for Piccolo, for that matter. He liked them. He liked them both as individuals and as a couple, which was interesting since he didn't often like anybody. However, this Goten was sensible, quick to learn, and quick-witted. He was very worthy of this royal status. In fact, he'd have almost been a worthy heir to the throne of Vegeta-sei, unlike his own son. And Piccolo had always been someone he respected. As such, Vegeta decided that he'd do something a bit foolish and try to -help- the younger prince with his concerns about the green fighter. "Listen to me. Piccolo has never been happy. Even back then when he might have had some secret thing with Gohan, he wasn't happy. He was anti-social. He was boring. He never went out in public. Getting him to be around people at all was like pulling teeth." The saiyajin stopped for a second, apparently pondering something. "Of course... the same could be said about me. Except that I was married. Sort of."

"Does any of this have a point?" asked the demi-saiyajin flatly.

"My point is he's happy. He has a regular job, a house, and wears human clothes, for fuck's sake!" Vegeta exclaimed. "He laughs! He smiles! He shows you affection -publicly-. No one could make that happen except you. -Now- do you understand what I've been tying to hammer through your thick skull?!"

"Yeah." Goten gave a small but appreciative smile before he took a bite out of the sandwich in his hand. In all honesty, he was incredibly grateful that Vegeta was so observant and had been willing to share so much. No one had exactly been forthcoming with much information about Piccolo before Goten had met him. "He was anti-social? Really?"

"Yes. He'd often grunt rather than speak."

"... I can see that."

"Good. Now. No more talking about this relationship crap," Vegeta ordered, digging back into his food. He couldn't believe he'd just spent the last several minutes boosting someone else's self-esteem and making them feel -better-. 'Next thing I know, I'll be turning into the woman. ... Oh, well. I can't cook too well either.'

***

There were a few gauze-like clouds in the sky, only enough to pass between the sun and earth to provide minimal shade. In the Capsule Corp back yard, several figures took advantage of the warm day. Meat grilled over a sizzling grill. There was a table set up with various platters of different snacks and deserts and drinks. Other tables decorated the grounds around the pool, room for all the people at the gathering. There was a volleyball net set up, and teams of two dueling it out as if the game alone would determine the fate of the earth.

"This is, like, the best picnic -ever-," Bulma gushed.

"Why do you say that?" asked 18 in return, though not really interested in the answer.

"Well, just look at everyone!" The sheer glee in the blue-haired woman's eyes could've lightened even the darkest mood. "First of all, everyone showed up with -no- arm-twisting. See? Over by the pool? Vegeta is actually being sociable! Well, even if it is with Piccolo and Goten, still. Sociable! Talking! Laughing! Not being a scowling spoil-sport."

"Will wonders never cease," 18 commented dryly. The blonde android had seen the show before; whenever Piccolo was off-duty and Goten would come to the club, Vegeta would always willingly talk with them. And they would laugh, too. Or at least, snicker. 18 knew that if Bulma had ever bothered to come to the club, she'd have found all this out as well.

Bulma frowned a little as her eyes fell on her son and his boyfriend stuffing their faces at the snack table. "And Trunks and Goten just have no manners!"

"They're saiyajins. Isn't that how they all eat?"

"Still, you'd think they'd learn something after all these years," Bulma snorted. "Little pigs."

18's eyes fell on her daughter across the yard playing volleyball with her father against Pan and Yamcha. Gohan sat nearby on the grass, giving Pan encouragement and little pointers about the game. "Marron's going to freckle like a red-headed stepchild. She needs sunscreen."

Fishing around in a large tote bag behind her, Bulma produced a bottle of sunscreen. "Here," she said, handing the bottle to the other woman. "Why don't you take this to Marron? I'm going to see if my mom and Chichi need any help with the food. Though I doubt it with Mr. Popo being around, too."

At a nearby table, Dende was shuffling cards. At the sound of the playing cards slapping together, both Goten and Trunks looked over at the small namek. He grinned at them both and indicated that he'd be willing to play them if they wanted. "Wanna play?"

"Sure, but do you think we'd need a fourth player?" Trunks asked as he left his empty plate and wiped his hands.

"Not really. Besides, do you see anyone who isn't busy?" Dende asked, grinning.

"No," Chibi said, looking around. But then he saw a dark figure moving in between people, hustling with an empty platter towards the table. "Wait. What about Mr. Popo? He might want to play."

"No. Not Mr. Popo. He cheats," Dende said, a slight scowl on his face.

"Dende! I heard that," Mr. Popo exclaimed, surprising the young Kami, who hadn't seen him coming. "And I do not cheat!"

"Do too!" Dende retorted.

"I do not cheat, and you know it. I cannot help it if I know all your tell-tale signs of when you are bluffing," Mr. Popo said.

"See. He can't play. I want a shot at winning for once," Dende admitted, shuffling the cards like a Las Vegas dealer.

Trunks and Chibi exchanged a glance, wondering just what they had just gotten themselves into.

Gohan noticed the blonde android heading towards the volleyball area, and he smiled at her in greeting. "Hey 18, what's up?"

"Marron needs to put on some sunscreen," 18 stated as she moved to stand beside the still sitting demi-saiyajin.

"Aw, mom," Marron groused. "After this game, okay? Me and Dad are winning!"

Just then, the small, white ball flew right down in front of her as Yamcha spiked the ball over the net. Pan smirked at the elder female. "Not anymore. Tied game."

"That totally almost hit my face. Do you know how -long- it took for me to get my makeup to look like this?" Marron squeaked as she backpedaled away from the dangerous sphere.

Pan looked at the other girl blankly and stated, "You don't look like you're wearing any makeup."

Marron rolled her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips and said huffily, "Duh! That's the whole point."

Pan looked at Yamcha, who was trying to cover his mouth to stop from laughing out loud at her friend. She then turned to her father, who was lying back on the ground, laughing uproariously at both of them. That convinced her. "Makeup is stupid."

"You're stupid," Marron growled, abandoning her earlier stance for one that was a bit more aggressive, even though they both knew it was in jest.

"Marron..." Krillin admonished, pointing the way to his wife.

"She insulted me first!" the blonde girl defended, even as she went to obey her father's demand. She accepted the sunscreen and began to apply it to her arms and legs. She looked over at Pan and noticed the dark-haired girl grinning at her, and she knew that the quarter-saiyajin was not done with teasing her yet.

"And we're going to kick your butt at volleyball if you don't get back in the game," Pan added as the sunscreen container clicked closed.

"Oh, you're so going down, pipsqueak," Marron retorted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. The two teams switched their positions on the field, and it was Yamcha's turn to serve, which Marron returned.

Gohan laughed at the way the two girls played, mocking each other as they laughed. And Yamcha was even laughing, which was a good sign. After how the elder male broke down upon his return, the rest of them had wondered if he would actually recover. But it seemed that living with Vegeta was, in fact, doing him some good. Just thinking about the saiyajin prince had the demi-saiyajin looking over in that direction. The short male stood, glass in hand, laughing with Piccolo and Goten.

The young hero sighed as his gaze locked onto Piccolo. The green male was smiling, his arm draped loosely around Goten's shoulders. He was wearing human clothes and looking drop dead sexy in them, too. He knew that Piccolo loved Goten. Knew it to be absolute, too. But that didn't stop him from loving the namek as well. He had been honest when he said that he wouldn't ever give up on loving Piccolo.

Goten watched out of the corner of his eye as Gohan turned to regard him, and his two companions. His tail flickered out behind him before wrapping around Piccolo's thigh possessively. He smiled as Vegeta caught the action, smirking at them both before turning to glance at Yamcha again. Piccolo merely grinned, taking another sip from his drink.

"So... Can someone please tell me -what- exactly Chiaotzu is?" Goten asked, an amused look gracing his features.

"Not a clue," Vegeta smirked with a shake of his head.

"I don't think anyone has that one quite figured out. Well, maybe Tien does, but no one wants to ask," Piccolo replied.

"Yamcha seems to be having fun," Goten remarked to Vegeta, unable to stop the small smirk at how the elder male never seemed to take his eyes off of the human for more than a few seconds. "I guess he likes games."

"Huh?" Vegeta asked, startled for a moment, wondering how much Goten guessed about his and Yamcha's relationship, or lack thereof. "Well, he -is- an athlete. It's what they do. He likes baseball, softball, volleyball. I think he even plays basketball."

"Ah. I see," Goten smiled. He thought about making a rather rude comment, but knew the other male wouldn't appreciate it, so he kept it to himself. The elder prince returned to watching Yamcha's game. He tilted his head to the side, looking from Vegeta to Bulma as the blue-haired woman watched the picnic and talked with her mother and Chichi. "You know, I'm rather surprised that you came to this picnic, Vegeta. I mean, I know that you aren't overly fond of Bulma and all."

"We... have an understanding," Vegeta replied.

"Oh?" Piccolo asked, curious.

"You might just say we're allies," the short male smirked, turning his gaze once again to look at Yamcha, watching the way the human moved as he played his game. Yamcha had taken his shirt off a while back, exposing the royal crest for the world to see. No one had commented on it, and Vegeta wasn't sure why. Though, he knew if anyone had, Yamcha would have probably have covered it up, which would have been disappointing. Very disappointing. He turned his head to look at Bulma for a moment. Their eyes met before they both looked at Yamcha again, distracted by Yamcha's laughter as Pan hit the sand in a dive that missed the ball. "We have a... mutual goal."

"I see," Piccolo said, looking in the direction that Vegeta was. "So you came because he did."

"Hn," Vegeta nodded, taking another sip from his drink.

"Well, this is one way to make sure that you keep in touch with him. And I'm sure it beats him having to call you every two hours," Goten commented, watching the elder male over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his drink.

Vegeta's visage darkened for a moment. Ever since their shared kiss, those check-up calls had been promptly on-time and lasted all of two words. 'I'm alive,' Vegeta mocked. That was what each phone call said. And if Vegeta ever tried to call him, he'd only get, 'Still alive.' It was enough to drive even the most tolerant of people insane. Vegeta freely admitted that he wasn't the most tolerant of people, yet he was still... trying. The saiyajin sighed, shaking his head. "It does indeed."

"If you'll both excuse me," Goten said, bowing slightly as he unwound his tail. He turned his back on them as he moved towards the house. It wasn't difficult to guess where he was going.

Piccolo watched him go for a moment but then turned back to talk with Vegeta. Before either of them could say anything, Bulma's voice rang out into the yard, "Dinner's done!"

***

Upon exiting the half-bathroom in the kitchen, Goten nearly ran face-first into Yamcha, who had been coming down an adjacent hall. The human smiled at him. "Oh, so it was -you- who beat me to the nearest bathroom. Good thing this place has so many, huh?"

"I suppose," Goten returned. He had to admit to himself that he was curious to know what had been going on with him and Vegeta in their shared household. Having been with Vegeta on a few occasions when the phone rang for one of Yamcha's check-ins, he knew the conversations were short. So short, in fact, that Vegeta never got a word in edgewise. "You're looking well. Healthier. Than a while back."

"Thanks. It's been difficult, but... It's gonna be all right, I think."

"And how are things going?"

"Good," Yamcha grinned. "I love picnics. And it's a beautiful day out."

"Actually," redirected the demi-saiyajin, "I meant with you and Vegeta."

Yamcha paused for a moment. It was a difficult question for him to answer, and it gave him a weird sense of déjà vu, though he couldn't recall the previous instance. In all fairness, he was still dreadfully confused about the whole 'Vegeta Situation', as he dubbed it in his head. The news about the saiyajin having known every single thing that happened between Yamcha and Geta completely floored him. But it explained everything. What it didn't clarify, however, was why Vegeta was so affected by the dreams. What made Yamcha so different all of a sudden? He hadn't changed while in the other dimension. Of course, he realized, this Vegeta had. And what was he going to do? Continue to push him away, even when he really didn't want to? Keep on treating him like the asshole he was before, despite the fact that he had changed? No, no. It was too confusing to really tell anyone else about it. "Fine."

"Really." Goten wasn't fooled. He could see the wheels turning behind Yamcha's eyes. There was no way they were 'fine'. Something else was going on.

"Yeah," the human responded. "I'm still putting up with him, but otherwise, we're fine."

"I see." The two began heading back towards the picnic area. "So... What have you been doing with your time? Keeping busy?"

"Oh! Yeah. I'm actually working on this pretty big project I hope to start seeing go through in the fall," Yamcha grinned. "I'm really excited about it. Spend most of my days out working on it."

"Oh? Not... sparring anymore?"

"Not really. I mean, I'm exercising, but not in that fighting way," clarified the older male.

"Interesting." As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Goten was about to ask Yamcha about the project on which he was working, but instead, something else caught his eye.

Both males pulled up short. For the most part, the table was very full. There was very little space. So little, that it wasn't really enough for two people. And it seemed that the only real vacancy was between Chibi and Vegeta. Piccolo sat across from the small saiyajin prince with Gohan right beside him.

Goten narrowed his eyes. The most space was around Vegeta, but that wasn't where he was planning on sitting. He walked over to where Piccolo was, his tail snapping twice behind him to show his annoyance before it wrapped around his waist. He gave Gohan a look, and the older male obediently moved down a bit. Not much, but it was enough for the younger demi-saiyajin to squeeze in.

Yamcha, for his part, sighed to himself. His growing tan darkened as he sat down, silently, next to Vegeta and across from Goten. He grabbed a plate and started filling it with food, hoping that no one else would notice how his hands were shaking, and if they did notice, then that they would pass it off from him playing volleyball. He felt incredibly warm, sitting next to Vegeta, and he wasn't sure if it was from Vegeta's body heat, or his own embarrassment, or the heat from the sun and exertion of earlier.

Chibi sat next to Yamcha, watching as the human's hands trembled as he spooned food onto his plate before passing the bowl to Vegeta. He felt kind of sorry for Yamcha, as he knew he didn't want to sit next to Vegeta either. But they lived together! Surely they were used to living under close conditions. Chibi looked across the table at Gohan and how he tried to hide his own emotions at having been shoved down a bit away from Piccolo, which he could understand.

Not long ago, Chibi had made a wish. A somewhat selfish wish, though Trunks had benefited from it, too. In essence, the youngest Son had learned what even his elder sibling didn't know, and that lesson would never leave him. He had wanted to learn what Goten experienced when he and Piccolo made love. What he had found out was that Piccolo's sacrificing and giving nature didn't end in the battlefield. Trunks had never made love to him like that before, and it was one of those things to which, once sampled, a person could easily if not instantly become addicted. That feeling of being cherished, of being adored. It was intoxicating to say the least. And Chibi knew that Trunks had been trying to duplicate that feeling for him ever since. And it made him love his lavender-haired lover all the more. But that didn't mean that Trunks ever succeeded. It just meant that he tried.

Chibi knew that Gohan had no real clue about truly being with Piccolo, but that didn't stop the elder demi-saiyajin from simply wanting to be with Piccolo. And for that, he felt sorry for his brother.

Turning his head then, Chibi regarded his alternative self. If his life had been lived in an eternal hell, he might have ended up like him. But he didn't want that. Granted, he might have gotten Piccolo himself, but Chibi didn't want Piccolo. He loved Trunks and was happy with his life. Nevertheless, he found a few admirable traits in the other demi-saiyajin that fortunately didn't have anything to do with sex. Just his simple mannerisms and things like that. He remembered the not-so-nice stuff Goten had said to him upon their first meeting. And after observing the other him for so many months, he saw what Goten had meant. They were just minor things, but Chibi knew he was starting to makes a few changes about himself. He sat up straighter, didn't slouch like he used to do. He always wore clean clothes. But he wasn't going to change who he was. He liked who he was. He didn't know if Goten could say the same, even though he had found -his- happiness with Piccolo.

"Chibi?" Trunks whispered, making sure that it was barely audible. "You're thinking too hard."

"Huh?" Chibi asked, turning to look at the lavender-haired male who sat next to him.

"It's hurting -my- head," Trunks grinned. While gazing at his boyfriend, he noticed the smallest change in the slightly younger man's countenance. It had been slowly building over the past few months, but even Trunks could tell that there was something different about Chibi. Like, maybe... He was starting to grow up a little.

The two of them had never really wanted to grow up, and no one ever tried to teach them otherwise. But for some reason, Chibi had started down that path, dragging Trunks with him even if just a little. He suspected the change had come due to Goten. Considering the regal demi-saiyajin, Trunks glanced over at him, seeing that he was immersed in conversation with Vegeta and Piccolo, though he did appear to be trying to include Yamcha in their conversation. A light frown creased Trunks' brow.

Not pausing in attempting to quench his ravenous appetite, the lavender-haired youth's eyes flitted around the table, taking in who was sitting where and with whom they were conversing. He didn't actually count them all, but it seemed that, despite everyone being together at the same table, they were all sequestered into their own little cliques. Either by blood, personality, or no other choice, the entire gang had other people with whom to belong. And that was comforting. At least to Trunks. To know that everyone would always have someone else.

And again, his blue eyes were drawn to the nearest end of the table. His father. And Yamcha. Actually pausing a moment in his constant eating, Trunks' brow knitted. They had something in common but couldn't seem to get past it.

They were the two loneliest people in the world.

***

The air conditioner was in full effect as the stars shone outside. Yamcha moved softly into the kitchen, wanting something to drink. He wore only his sleeping pants, as was his usual when it was night and he had no place to go. He tried to avoid looking at Vegeta, as the prince sat in the living room, even though he could feel the saiyajin watching him. Biting his lower lip a moment, he called out, "Would you like something?"

"Oh, so now you're talking to me?" Vegeta asked from his chair in the living room.

"Ugh. Forget it," Yamcha retorted, putting away the second glass he had already pulled out. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice.

Vegeta opened his mouth, at the brink of apologizing, but he held back. He still had his pride. If nothing else, he did have his pride. That didn't stop him from mentally kicking himself. He was getting short-tempered again. He didn't need that. He needed to have just a little more patience. 'Hn. What I need is to get him naked and under me.' Vegeta sighed as he pushed that thought away. He turned to look out the window to view the ebony and diamond sky.

After a moment's hesitation, Yamcha went ahead and poured another glass of juice for Vegeta. He padded back into the living room, passing Vegeta's chair along the way. He offered the surprised prince the second glass before sitting on the sofa, tucking his legs under him and picking up his sporting magazine.

"Thank you," Vegeta said, cautiously. Not for the first time, Vegeta recognized how out of his element he was. He knew that seduction was about strategy. The problem was, it wasn't military strategy. And martial strategy was about the only thing he really knew. He had never tried to actually court anyone. Bulma was the one who courted him, or rather, simply announced to him and a few others one day that they had a -relationship-. She was also the one who ended that relationship. He watched as Yamcha settled in to reading, and he wondered what he should do. Usually they would watch television until ten if it was a 'quiet night at home', and then go to their separate beds, wherever they happened to be. But it was already after eleven, and neither seemed to be willing to call it a night. "Do you think you're going to be sore tomorrow from your never ending volleyball games?"

"Maybe. Probably. I dunno. Nothing I can do about it now, anyway," Yamcha responded, shrugging. He looked up from his magazine to see a moment of concern in Vegeta's eyes before the prince occupied himself with taking a sip of juice. That spark of concern reminded Yamcha of just how he'd gotten himself into this... situation.

When he'd come back and found out why Geta hadn't made it through the mirror with them, the human had been devastated. He'd found something so wonderful that he'd never even imagined it couldn't be there. But then... it wasn't. And Yamcha had no idea what to do with himself afterwards. That's where Vegeta came in. With no real will of his own to go on, without really wanting to live anymore but not having the strength to end his life, Yamcha allowed Vegeta to dictate his life for him. Until he began to recover and decided to rejoin the living, that is. Only then, Vegeta was still in control. Partly, the scarred male didn't mind it so much; it was nice to have someone around, even if he was overbearing and overprotective.

Of course, that was also before they'd kissed.

Yamcha had tried to gain a little freedom by testing his boundaries with Vegeta that night, and much to his chagrin, he'd received far more than for which he'd bargained. The saiyajin had known everything that happened between Yamcha and Geta like he'd been there himself. To say that was a little disheartening would've been a bold-faced lie; it freaked out the human. Vegeta had tried to explain everything, though not to put himself in a better light but just to help Yamcha understand. And he did understand to some extent, but he'd walked out of Vegeta's room that night and had barely said more than a few words to him since.

Unfortunately, old habits were hard to break. Yamcha still called Vegeta every two hours to let him know he was still alive, but he wouldn't say anything else, nor would he let Vegeta say anything. He'd tried, at first, to call him back, but the scarred male still wouldn't allow him to speak. Vegeta basically conceded to Yamcha's wishes. It was at that point that Yamcha realized why Vegeta was really doing all of this, all the watching, the protectiveness. The saiyajin honestly cared.

'But why? Why does he care? Just because of the dreams?' That didn't make much sense. Thinking back along all of the many years he'd known Vegeta, a large portion of which he'd actually had a crush on the other man, he considered what he knew about the small saiyajin. Suddenly, a light went off in Yamcha's head. 'He's so possessive, so protective of what he deems as -his- because... he's never really, truly had anything of his own!' Vegeta's planet and his people... They were all gone. Even under Frieza, his uniforms were given to him. The family he'd made with Bulma... Well, he had never seemed too partial to that arrangement. But now, Vegeta had his nightclub, and he had... Yamcha.

And that made all the difference.

Sighing, Yamcha began turning through the pages of his magazine again, not actually looking at the contents. 'This is so complicated,' he thought to himself. On one hand, he was pretty content with having Vegeta around. But on the other hand, didn't that mean he was betraying Geta's memory? His jaw clenched tightly as he pretended to read the magazine. That had actually been the problem with which he'd been dealing the past several months. If Vegeta hadn't been so caring and so eager to take care of him, there would be no issue. But he did just the opposite, and that made things more difficult for Yamcha.

He'd loved Geta so much for all the reasons that made him different from Vegeta. However, the saiyajin prince from the universe had gone and changed into someone... so much better than he used to be, and that scared Yamcha. Vegeta was just... different.

Deep in his heart, the human knew he couldn't hang onto Geta forever. He'd always hold a special place in his heart, but he was gone. Part of Yamcha wondered if his thoughts were like a betrayal. He didn't want to do that, to tarnish his time with Geta nor his memories of him. Yet the worst part was that, lately, it started to occur to him that he'd been taking out all of his pain and unhappiness on Vegeta this whole time. And the saiyajin prince deserved better than that.

Yamcha gazed at Vegeta, who seemed to be fascinated with the contents of his drinking glass. Closing his magazine with a soft flap, he set it back down on the coffee table. His glass was still pretty full, so he took a slow, lengthy drink from it, still thinking about the man across from him. Vegeta did sincerely care, and all in all, it wasn't that bad. If he were really being honest with himself, he enjoyed the attention most of the time, as uncomfortable as it could be at other times.

Yet... there was that underlying attraction. Yamcha couldn't really help that because, for all intents and purposes, Vegeta was an attractive man, strong, intelligent, and respectable. Who wouldn't find him appealing? In all fairness, it really wasn't like Yamcha to be so resentful or to hold a grudge. Maybe things would loosen up a bit if he gave a little. But would he be prepared to face the consequences? 'Well, I'll never know if I don't give it a shot. It's worth giving it that much.' Yamcha laced his fingers together and reached forward, stretching out his shoulders. "You know, maybe a little... shoulder rub wouldn't be too bad of an idea."

Vegeta frowned a little at the human's words. Was he teasing him again? Regardless, he didn't want to waste an opportunity in case Yamcha's potential offer was the real thing. Swallowing his pride and trepidations, Vegeta responded, "I could... do that."

"That'd be nice," Yamcha replied, moving off the couch to sit on the floor in front of Vegeta's chair.

Vegeta set his glass down carefully on the stand next to his chair. Yamcha was shirtless, and the royal crest was blatantly exposed. Taking a deep breath, Vegeta set his hands lightly on Yamcha's shoulders. He grinned when he realized that Yamcha was truly serious, and then set about his task. He massaged Yamcha's neck and shoulders, using his chi to warm his hands further. He pushed the other male forward a bit, so that he could rub at his back, letting the scarred skin slide under his palms.

Yamcha's eyes fell half shut as he began to relax under Vegeta's ministrations. It was nice. No, it was more than nice. His head fell forward as Vegeta continued to touch him with those magical, warm hands. "You're good at this."

"Hn," Vegeta sounded, listening more to the soft undercurrent of sound Yamcha was making. It almost sounded like a purr. There was a strange prickling sensation that tickled the prince's skin, but it wasn't due to any kind of drop in temperature. "It would be better with oils, but chi works well in a pinch to loosen the muscles."

"Hmmm. Oils do help, if you use the right ones," Yamcha agreed. He was getting sleepy, sitting there, soaking in the attention from the prince. "Which ones do you like?"

Vegeta chuckled, dark and deep. He was enjoying himself and knew that it was going to be ending soon. But he was going to enjoy how pliant Yamcha seemed to be for as long as he could. He continued to run his hands over scarred flesh as he replied softly, "Don't ask me that."

"Hmmm?" Yamcha asked, his eyes fully closed and more content than he could ever remember being. "Why not?"

"Because that would lead to a conversation about something I think you'd rather not converse." Vegeta said, pulling Yamcha back and beginning to massage his temples.

Yamcha was too relaxed to tense, but he did wake up at that. He discovered how tired he was, though, when his eyes started to droop closed again. He decided to push forward with the conversation, loathing putting an end to Vegeta's massage. "You seem like a nutmeg kind of guy to me."

"Huh?" Vegeta asked, his already tan skin darkening slightly at the less than superb question. He was getting lost in the moment, lost in the simple act of touching the other male.

"Scents. You seem like you might like nutmeg," Yamcha replied.

"Oh," Vegeta said, finishing his massage. He rested his hands on Yamcha's shoulders, rubbing his thumb against the other male's flesh still. He gave a small smile as Yamcha turned and leaned back, resting his head on the prince's inner thigh. He wanted to lean down and touch more of the human but held back. "Um, why nutmeg?"

Yamcha yawned first, before replying softly, "It's just the smell that I think fits you. When ever I smell nutmeg, I think of you."

Vegeta eyes widened at that confession. He hadn't really thought that Yamcha thought about him, except to call or when others mentioned him. It was surprising that the human actually associated him with a scent, too, other than his own. From the shock came a warm kind of pleasure that seeped through the prince's blood. He leaned forward to run his a hand through Yamcha's hair. "Nutmeg, huh? It's a good flavor for food."

Yamcha straightened as he yawned deeply. When he was finished, he stood up, stretching luxuriously. He grinned as he turned around, smiling down at the still sitting prince. He leaned down, placing both hands on the arms of the chair and brushed his lips gently, ever so gently, across Vegeta's. He pulled back to see the saiyajin's startled expression, and he couldn't stop the small little smirk it caused him.

In a sense, Vegeta was similar to Geta. They had both been starving for affection. To Yamcha, it was rather sad that someone like Vegeta was so shocked by a simple kiss. Yet, the surprise was evident on the prince's face. The two were similar, yet so very dissimilar at the same time. It just went to complicate matters more.

But Geta wasn't here, and never would be here, and Yamcha didn't want to be alone forever. He was just so confused. With that thought in mind, the human leaned forward again and was surprised when he was met half way. He closed his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, his hands still resting on the arms of the chair.

Vegeta hadn't expected the first whisper of a kiss. But he knew it wasn't going to be enough. He leaned forward just as Yamcha had and met the human's soft lips with his own. His own dark eyes closed at the shiver of pleasure that slipped down his spine. Neither one deepened it much, but neither was in a rush to break the contact, either.

Their eyes slid open only as Yamcha pulled away. He flushed darkly as he stood up, embarrassed, and slightly aroused. "Um... Thank you for the massage, Vegeta."

"You're welcome," the prince said thickly. "Any time."

"Um. Yeah. Uh," Yamcha stammered. "It's late. Maybe... I think I should be going to bed."

"Maybe you should," Vegeta agreed, still sitting in his chair, watching the human as he made his retreat. His body was thrumming slightly from the kiss, aroused more than just slightly. He wanted Yamcha. He wanted him now. But he could wait. He might not be able to wait forever. But he could wait for now.

"Right," Yamcha said, turning just at his bedroom door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As the door to Yamcha's room clicked shut, a small smile spread across the short saiyajin's features. It was one of the first times Yamcha actually acknowledged that there was going to -be- a tomorrow. Vegeta stood up, almost ready to laugh.

He still had hope. Tomorrow, after all, was another day.