Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Saiyan Style ❯ Part IX: Androids ( Chapter 9 )

By: Letta

Rating: R - NC-17

Warnings: A little bit of gore, Yaoi, angst, violence, slight language, poor grammar, anything I left out from this list, good times

Pairings: Goku X Vegeta… completely classic.

Notes: Last time I said I thought I'd make my deadline. I'm toying with making this a little longer than I had originally planned. So, uh, I might not make it after all.

"denotes speaking"

*denotes thought*

//flashback//

A/N: My car's broke! Of course, since it was free, I should expect as much. That and that fact that it has 210,000 miles on it.

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<center><b><u>Saiyan Style</u></b></center>

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PART VIII: ANDROIDS

Goku looked at the assembled group, a frown finding its way onto his face. There was one person missing. Vegeta.

Ever since that day when the prince had sought him out, a strange, unchecked hunger in his onyx eyes, and had kissed him… he had not seen any part of Vegeta. He had heard from Bulma a few days later that the prince had gone off to space, with her father's ship. No one had known why, no one except him, and Vegeta, of course.

He had labored with guilt for the past year. It had weighted him down, ate at the very core of his being. Though, he knew why he did what he did. He had a family, he was a father and husband. Then, why did it feel so wrong to push the prince away? Why did it crush him when the prince hadn't said a word to him as he left?

Why was it that when he was standing on a cliff overlooking a city that was scheduled to come under siege at any moment, that he could only think about Vegeta? He had trained intensively for three years just to mull over the saiyan elite.

He knew now, of course, that he wanted the prince. He supposed he had known it all along. But that stirring in his gut was just lust, wasn't it?

Then why did he want the other saiyan more than he had ever wanted anything or anyone?

Goku imperceptibly shook his head, casting his eyes over the horizon towards the city. He wished the androids would hurry up.

An abrupt, painful thought tore at his chest. *What if Vegeta doesn't come?*

He tried vainly to shy his mind away from the very idea, horrible in its consequence. If the prince had decided to stay away, to permanently remove his royal self from the Earth, Goku didn't know what he would do. The third class gave a tiny smile as he realized he would probably hunt the elite down and drag him back if he had to.

It wasn't so much that they needed every available fighter, it was more that Goku realized he needed Vegeta.

Once more, the scene from a year ago played out in his mind.

// Hi Vegeta! What brings you out here?" he had asked, bringing a hand up to scratch idly at his head.

"You."

He blinked, feeling his puzzlement spread across his face as he looked at the prince, trying to process the information.

"Well, what can I do for you?"

The prince flashed his trademark smirk. The elite remained silent, instead opting to walk up to him, stopping mere feet away, and looked at him steadily.

Goku felt himself grow even more confused. He couldn't possibly begin to guess at what would cause the prince's strange behavior.

Wordlessly, he stared as Vegeta lifted finger to the center of his chest traveling slowly upwards to the shoulder. He had looked at the prince's face then, blinking as he rested his eyes on an amused, almost wondrous contenance. He repressed a shiver of something undefined as that gloved finger ran alongside his neck to send tickles of feather light contact through his jaw line, halting its quest at the underside of his chin, firmly tapping his skin.

Then Vegeta met his own wide eyes, holding him rooted to the spot, limbs suddenly leaden.

"Kakkarot…" Vegeta murmured.

He had tried desperately to come up with a reply, but his mind could not shape words to speak.

Then wondrously warm, pliant lips pressed tightly to his. He could practically feel the prince's lustful emotions spill against him. He opened his mouth, whether to reprimand, beg, or invite, he had no idea, but it was wonderfully taken advantage of. His stomach leapt upwards at a sickening pace, leaving him woozy and disoriented as his knees threatened to buckle underneath. Desire pooled within him, urging.

Dazedly, he wrapped his arms around the royal, crushing the slighter saiyan against for fear he might slip away. Ardently, he repaid the ministrations of his prince. Vegeta's questing mouth left his, searching along his jaw, his columned neck, even going so far as to burrow into the juncture of the shoulder.

He, meanwhile, had gone upwards, pressing his mouth reverently against alabaster skin until he found an exquitely shaped ear, avidly latching onto it. He had almost bit down when Vegeta nuzzled, his throat boisterously applauding the action with excited sound.

He clutched at the prince when he found warm hands running sensually across his chest, gliding with wanton need.

Then, he stopped, a prickling at his mind warning him of approaching visitors like a slap in the face. He grew cold, pushing the prince away, unable to meet the questioning rejecting building in the man's eyes. For once, the marbled onyx displaying the prince's emotions.

Instead, he focused on the sky, chest heaving.

"You should go."//

He cut off the memory, not wishing to relive the denial burgeoning in those dazzling pools of black liquid. Not wanting to once more witness the sight of the prince, his prince, avoiding his gaze as he picked up his gloves. He had no desire to see the curious face of his son or the accusing stare of the namek as he face burned shamefully with need.

Angrily, he looked at the sky.

Where were those fucking androids?

A gurgle followed by some cooing behind him made him turn and smile. There, bouncing happily on Bulma's knee was the young Trunks, a lock of purple hair in his blue eyes. He had let slip that he had known the child's name and father when he had arrived, but it was too late for damage.

Other than Piccolo, not a one knew how he had known.

How jealousy welled up as he gazed softly at Bulma and her son. His tormented envy twisted around in his gut, somehow ending up as an empty pit. It gnawed angrily at him, tempting him to overstep the edge and plummet down into its abysmal depths.

Firmly, he pressed the feeling down. He had his own family. He had his duties to them. He couldn't and wouldn't leave them. He had made a promise the day Chichi became his wife, and he would honor it. It was the only thing that had kept him from running after Vegeta as he had walked away, from clutching the prince to him, from ravenously claiming his delectable mouth with his own.

"Aren't they supposed to be here by now?" a voice cut into the saiyan's thoughts. He turned around, searching out its owner, his eyes landing on Yamcha.

"Give it time Yamcha. It's only 10:17," Bulma spoke up.

"Shouldn't we have sensed them by now? Maybe they're not coming. For all we know, that guy from the future was lying."

Goku smiled and turned his back on the conversation. He never had much concept of time. The rise and fall of the sun and the passing of the seasons was all he needed to know.

A prickling at the edge of his mind tugged his attention to the sky.

The androids?

He quickly saw that it was a small, one person airplane. There was some excited squabbling behind him, but he ignored it. The small craft landing quietly amongst the group. By now, Goku had recognized Yajirobe's ki signature emanating from the vehicle and watched with interest as the vertically challenged warrior hopped out.

"Korin sent some senzu beans for your fight," he said, tossing the bag to the saiyan. "Where are these `androids' anyways?"

"They haven't shown up yet," Goku answered, catching the bag. "Thanks."

"Well, maybe we can't sense their power levels," Gohan said, timidly, then continued, "I mean, they are <i>androids</i>, after all."

Everyone turned to regard the young boy, an uneasiness settling over the group at this new possibility. If they really couldn't sense these androids, then the two that Trunks had come back to warn them about could be running around on a mad killing spree with no one even knowing. Goku repressed a shudder. Taking the role of group leader, he turned to regard them.

"If that's the case, then we should go down there and start looking for them."

"Whatever, I'm outta here," Yajirobe said, climbing back into his plane.

"You mean, you're not going to help us fight?" Goku asked.

"No way! You guys can get yourselves killed if you want, but count me out." It wasn't much longer before they were watching the craft lift off the ground. Goku traced its path with his eyes, until it exploded in a fiery cloud of smoke. He blinked, then realization set in.

"The androids! They must be down there! Gohan, you go see if Yajirobe's all right. The rest of you, c'mon!" Goku said, excitement pounding through his veins as he leapt off the cliff to fly down to the city. Whatever hell awaited him in that jungle of buildings, he was ready.

*****

Goku looked down from his vantage point in the air. A moment ago, he could have sworn he heard a shout. Where it came form, he had no idea. It cut off too soon for him to pinpoint its direction. Now, he was searching fiercely, sharp eyes looking for the slightest anomaly. Off to his side, Piccolo too, was looking. Where they were offered up no clues.

"See anything?" he asked, looking over at the stern namek.

"This isn't getting us anywhere!" came the frustrated reply.

Suddenly, a clue clearer than a shout presented itself. An explosion thundered through the air, followed by billows of bestial smoke. Flames licked ardently at the sky, their caustic dance warning anyone not to get too close. Goku gasped as he felt a life force being drained at an alarming rate.

"Yamcha!"

In a flash, both were headed towards the direction of the rising black cloud.

When they landed, feet tapping lightly on paved ground, they saw, amidst a background of a burning semi-truck, Yamcha held in the air by a strangely clad man. One hand covered the Z warrior's mouth, whose eyes were unaccustomingly blank. The man that the hand belonged to was old, hair bleached white by age, wrinkles creasing ancient skin. Next to him stood a rotund, porcelain-white man similarly dressed in European brown and black-striped orange. Slowly, the Z warriors were collecting.

At their arrival, Yamcha was thrown to the grown, unflinching.

*****

Vegeta stared ahead blankly. There was nothing to see. All there was to do was wait. He was late. He knew he was late. It would shame him too much to admit that he had been afraid to return. He had prolonged it as long as he possibly could. Anything to avoid having to face him again.

Dully, his eyes flickered to the array of instruments decorating the control panel in front of him. All readings normal, all systems go. For the ship, anyway.

He repressed releasing a sigh. His chest felt heavy, leaden, as if it weighed too much to support itself.

He had to force himself to focus on the androids he would face. He knew he could beat them. He knew Kakkarot could beat them. He didn't know why they had spent the past three years training to fight androids they could easily beat. Despite the fact that he would have used the time to train anyway wasn't an issue worth considering.

He began to feel a steady increase of pressure as the craft picked up speed.

Funny, he hadn't even noticed he had entered the atmosphere.

His eyes slid shut. The prince stretched his senses, first towards the woman and their child, sorting them out from all the other life forms inhabiting the dirt ball, noting that they were both where they should be, power-wise. A certain amount of pride flooded his being as he once again thought of how easily his infant son's power dwarfed all but the very strongest fighters on the planet. Fighters that would be considered immensely powerful throughout the cosmos.

His son would have been a royal elite through the rich blood flowing steadily in his veins, and through the power that coursed along those crimson rivers. The child would have made a fine heir to the throne of Vegeta-sei.

Vegeta didn't even realize a look of wistfulness passed across his visage.

There was a jarring skid that shook him in his seat, snapping his teeth together before he clenched his jaw. He was landing. He rode it out, hands gripping the arms of his chair, his body appearing alert and ready even if his mind was rooted in the past. All of it was painful.

The years gone by were filled with anger and hatred. He seldom came across a good memory, and even the sweetest ended up soured. Specifically, one from a year ago…

He shook his head, quickly grasping that the craft was stilled and his landing was complete.

Vegeta exited quickly, mind snapping to attention, zeroing in on the other power level he had meant to check.

Kakkarot.

They were in battle, but something felt wrong. If he wasn't mistaken, it felt as though the third class was actually losing! For the strangest reason, he couldn't sense whomever Kakkarot was fighting. The power fluctuations definitely matched a fight, but nothing seemed to add up right. He furrowed his brow in annoyance.

He had always hated riddles that he could not understand.

With an aristocratic air of sneering, he supposed that he had better see what sort of mess the third class had gotten himself into.

He took to the air, slipping on a mask of indifference, quelling the nervous pit in his stomach with firm denial. When everything else had been stripped away, he still had his broken pride, and it was the only thing he could rely on. He used his pride like a cloak, concealing the shattered splinters of his heart. The closer he flew to the third class, the tighter he wrapped himself in that torn, blood-spattered cloak. It had protected him before, it had been the only thing to keep him alive once, and now he needed it again.

He would not let Kakkarot see him defeated.

*****

Goku lay on the ground, panting for breath.

They had found Yamcha alive, though almost completely drained of energy. They had convinced the androids to fight out in a rocky terrain, far from innocent bystanders. The flight had made him sweat, and he had some trouble regaining his breath. He hadn't been able to figure it out.

He wheezed, gasping.

The battle had begun. It had been easy at first. He simply transformed to super saiyan and knocked Android 19 around- that's what the high-pitched round one was called. Then his chest began to constrict. He could barely hold a lungful of air long enough to use it.

Raggedly, he coughed. There was a hand coiled around his throat.

Yamcha, Gohan, and Krillin had shown up, revitalizing the taller warrior with a senzu bean. They had thrown him one, too. It had helped, at first, then the pain returned and he felt like he was worse off than before.

What was going on?

He barely heard a faraway shout. Something about…. heart medicine? That's right. He was supposed to have died from a heart disease by now. He hadn't contracted it, so he hadn't taken the medicine. He had completely forgotten about it. Vaguely he wondered why it was so late. Maybe because he was out in the wilderness training for three years and was even further removed from people and their diseases. However, he had come into contact with it anyway. His training must have simply delayed the event, or possibly made him slightly more immune.

The hand around his throat was so tight, but for some reason, he couldn't feel it. A fuzzy blanket of darkness was covering his eyes. He didn't remember anyone having a blanket with them.

Eventually, the android had gained the upper hand and he became a punching bag. Now, somehow, he was on the ground, being choked to death.

Goku tried to blink, he thought he had heard a noise. He had.

The pressure on his neck was also gone. He could breathe slightly easier.

Straining, he looked to see why. Before his eyes found out, though, his nose did.

*Vegeta…..*

He grinned stupidly. The prince had come! He couldn't really hear what Vegeta was saying, but he could see his lips move.

"You made it…." He trailed off, eyes drifting closed.

*****

Vegeta nearly stopped short at the sight before him. Kakkarot was lying on the ground, what he presumed was one of the androids, hunched over his prone figure. His friends were fending off the other android, trying to save their `hero.' Fury had risen in him, enveloping his soul in a blanket so black, light could not escape. The audacity of that mechanical trash to try and even think about ending the life of his third class idiot!

The possessive nature of the thought didn't even register in the elite's mind.

He dashed in front of the namek, shooting towards Kakkarot before veering off to the left, nearly hitting Gohan. No one had seen him. He was too fast. His year in space had paid off well.

As he shot away, he took a moment to calm himself, to think rationally, to replace the mask over his face. He looked from his vantage point away from the battlefield at the situation. His stunt had caused to namek to be shot down. He'd supposed he'd curse himself if he cared.

Taking a deep breath, he sped forward again.

Fist extended, he slammed into the machine, successfully knocking the thing away from Kakkarot. He took the briefest moment to glance down at the orange-clad fighter, noting the super saiyan power he felt had gone, leaving an ebony haired man in its wake. A gasping, wheezing, ebony haired man.

Vegeta darted his black eyes back up to watch the android's backward roll stop, the ardent rage burgeoning inside him threatening to boil over. It looked up at him, anger painted onto its mimic face.

"No one kills Kakkarot while I'm around!"

To emphasize his point, he began to power up, his eyes changing, his hair turning an eerily familiar gold.

*****

Goku felt light, airy, as if he was floating. He couldn't quite seem to find his body, and for the oddest reason, this was no great distress to him. The pain he had felt in his chest had began an aching numbness.

He honestly had no clue where he was.

He tried to open his eyes, realizing he had none. Or if he did, they were disconnected from him, somehow. He was enfolded in nothingness. He could not see, not hear, not even feel. There was nothing to smell, nothing to taste. Just a weightless, calming sensation reverberating through every part of him, whatever this new `him' was.

He knew that he had somewhere to be. He should be fighting the androids. Yet, he just didn't care.

He had fought the one. He knew it wasn't much to worry about. After all, he could have easily beaten it if he hadn't gotten sick. The rest of the group could finish his fight. He was content to stay where he was, even though he still hadn't quite figured out where exactly that was.

He knew he wasn't dead. He had died before. This was not death. It wasn't life, either. It was as if he was caught somewhere in between the two worlds. It would make sense. He was neither dead, nor alive. Well, he was perfectly happy to be just that.

*****

Vegeta tried not to let his foolish concern seep into his features as he watched the human fighter, Yamcha fly away with Kakkarot cradled protectively in his arms. To think his heart still harbored the same useless weakness for the man, even after the third class had thoroughly humiliated him, shattered his granite pride. Bemusedly, he even felt jealous that he was not the one to chauffeur the younger saiyan away to safety.

Of course, they would send the weakest fighter to tend to the fallen warrior's needs. The strongest and most able remained. It was then, only fitting that he stayed, to clean up.

As for the android…..

Vegeta looked over at the pile of charred metal, melted into a hideous clump.

That hadn't taken long.

The other android had just fled, using the advantage of having no sense-able ki to his advantage. The mechanical bastard should be running in fear. Vegeta promised to make this one suffer more than the other.

"Cue ball, toss me a senzu bean!" he ordered, looking pointedly at Krillin, who trembled slightly at having caught the attention of the psychotic saiyan prince.

There was some urging from the namek to consent to this action, which further ensured the monk's cooperation.

Vegeta had to hide a smirk. Piccolo, despite his personal dislike for the green-skinned alien, was a respectable warrior and possessed a frighteningly intuitive intelligence. He knew there was much more going on between the pointed ears than the impassive face would ever show. Idly, he supposed that if circumstances had been different, he and the namek might have actually gotten along.

A small, flying object grabbed his attention. Deftly, he caught the projectile, opening his gloved palm to look down at the small senzu.

Grudgingly, he admitted, that even as a super saiyan, that fight had worn him. He was going to need the replenishing effects of the bean if he was going to face the other android and win. Still, he failed to see why the child from the future had been so worked up about these two. They were nothing.

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A/N: This chapter took forever to write for some reason. I even used the same scene from the last chapter, just rewritten in Goku's POV! That's kind of pathetic.

I had a bad case of writer's block and realized that in ten years, I'll still be waiting for everything to "settle down." On the other hand, I'm pretty happy with this installment, even if I did set it up for the whole story to take longer than I had originally planned. I'm guessing, that in some way, this all works out. My new plan is to….. maybe I shouldn't tell you just yet. *cackles, then chokes on her own spit, tears coming to her eyes in a bout of coughing*

At any rate, during the writing of this, I came up with the idea for my next DBZ project. Who's curious?