Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Tasting Bliss ❯ Vegeta's tears ( Chapter 5 )

Bittersweet

 

Sequel to Tasting Bliss

 

Contains Male/Male pairings. Don't read if you don't like yaoi or shonen ai! Vegeta Seme/Goku Uke.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Vegeta, Goku or Dragon Ball Z. Akira Toriyama created the manga/anime, and it is owned/licensed by Shonen Jump and Toei Animation Co. Ltd. This is a fan fiction, and means no harm.

 

"Believe what you want. I don't care," Vegeta answered instead. Moving past Goku he sat down on the ancient urn near the fire and looked longingly at the roasted 200 pound fish sizzling there.

 

"I always feel better after I have something to eat," Goku said, pulling the fish off the fire. He held the large pole headfirst towards the startled prince. Grumbling Vegeta reached out and grabbed a piece of the flesh, ripping it from the bones. Sullenly he munched on the roasted fish while Son Goku shared it with him. They tore off great chunks, stuffing their faces and trying to avoid looking at one another awkwardly. Still Vegeta felt far safer here then back home.

 

"Humph, passable I suppose," Vegeta answered. "But knowing your appetite you'll be bitching you're hungry."

 

"Well I am, but you needed it more then me," said Goku. "If you wanna wait here I can…"

 

"I'm perfectly capable of hunting for myself, Kakkarot!" Vegeta snapped. Goku rubbed the back of his neck and decided it was best not to argue. So he simply followed after Vegeta as the Saiyan Prince rocketed into the deep woods to hunt breakfast for both of them. When Vegeta was ready he would talk. A fond gladness warmed the chills in Vegeta's being, sensing Goku flying after him. They would have much to discuss, but only on the Prince's terms.

 

Eventually Vegeta landed. But he wasn't chasing after anything by the time Son Goku caught up with him. Rather the Prince was staring off into the distance, his hands at his sides. Every muscle in Vegeta's back tensed, but the Prince did not move. Rather his eyes squeezed shut, and Son Goku walked up to rest a hand on his shoulder.

 

"Vegeta?" he asked.

 

"Surprised?" Vegeta answered in a low voice of defeat.

 

"She didn't throw you out?" Goku asked quietly. He squeezed Vegeta's shoulder tightly, and the Prince did not shrug him away. Rather the muscles in Vegeta's shoulder twitched and the Prince continued to look away. Son Goku moved around to stand in front of the Prince, resting his hand on Vegeta's shoulder's. The Prince stared past him, not meeting his gaze.

 

"It is not your affair, third class," Vegeta answered suddenly.

 

"Maybe it IS," Goku snorted. "You're pissed off."

 

"I don't TALK and unload my FEELINGS like you weakling humans do," Vegeta spat the words like poison. Son Goku dropped to one knee in front of the Prince, every instinct wanting to do what it could to stop Vegeta from exploding in rage or bursting into tears.

 

"Then what do Saiyans do?" Goku asked quietly.

 

"Beat weak emotions into submission, what else?" Vegeta answered.

 

"Vegeta," Goku said. Sighing he wrapped his arms around Vegeta's waist and then pressed his cheek to the Prince's abdomen. Vegeta flinched at the sudden physical contact.

 

"Let go of me, fool!" Vegeta answered.

 

"No," Goku answered, squeezing the Prince tighter to him. "Time for fighting later."

 

"Damn you, Kakkarot," whispered Vegeta, glancing down at the muscular arms wrapping around his waist. He felt the warmth of Son Goku's cheek nuzzling his hard stomach, combined with the soft motion of Son Goku's hands on the small of his back. They kneaded and rubbed with comforting strokes, while the spiky forest of hair tickled Vegeta's chin and nose.

 

"I'm not letting you go," Son Goku answered. "Not till you tell me what's going on."

 

"You stupid fool," Vegeta gritted his teeth. Every impulse to push Son Goku away vanished in the warmth of the other Saiyan so close to him. The need for physical comfort outweighed pride and Vegeta rested his hands on Goku's shoulders stiffly. He made no move to return the affection, yet did not push away Goku's comforting embrace either.

 

"I'm not going anywhere," Son Goku murmured. Then in Vegeta's mind came the series of images, and Son Goku's touch on the Prince's bare arm read the story he was too proud to tell:

 

He felt the burning sting of tears in his eyes that he forced shamefully back. He shifted so his back faced the square of light in the bathroom. Bulma's small dainty footsteps echoed again, and he felt rather then saw her tiptoeing past to exit the bedroom. Then the door shut with a small click, leaving him alone with his thoughts. If he narrowed his concentration he could sense the location of her ki in the large complex of Capsule. Mentally he formed the blueprint of the mansion, tracing her progress down to the level below where the guest suites were. For a while she stayed in one place, and he wondered if she had crept away to sleep in another place.

 

Had that harpy found out what her husband had done? If so, was Goku facing similar problems? Or was he off obviously training that boy Uub that he'd soared off with after the martial arts tournament. Ever since that day another disturbing trend had started, but Vegeta had denied it till this sudden moment of clarity. Bulma had raved about how Saiyans were not natural. She had been sorely tempted to gather up the dragon balls and wish for youth. Nevertheless she never followed through. Rather she spent increasing increments of time in her lab. Naturally Vegeta had thought nothing of this and retreated to his training.

 

Now as he sensed her remaining in a guestroom below he put scattered pieces together. First to land in place was the heavy perfumes she adopted in her 'middle age'. Next were the inordinate amounts of time she said she was in her lab, or on business trips. Trunks had taken over much of the domestic operation of his company while his mother spent time abroad. Vegeta knew as the President of Capsule it was expected. Yet that trend had started shortly after the martial arts tournament. He attributed it to normal human habits that he'd heard of from other workers scuttlebutt. Yet now he questioned that because he had also heard it said human women reached a 'sexual peak' at the age that Bulma was now.

 

Their couplings had grown more infrequent in the last few weeks. Then the heavy perfumes had either turned him off or left him in sneezing fits. Now the whiffs of another scent or two on her added up to a disturbing total. She was finding solace elsewhere.

 

Vegeta squeezed the covers tightly between his fingers. He did not want to believe it was so. Throwing aside the blankets he climbed out of bed and strode catlike across the floor. Then once he reached the door he levitated just above the carpet towards the stairs leading down. A distant sound of a female voice reached his ears. Past his daughter's room he drifted, then past his son's, before descending to the guest quarter's level.

 

"I know, it seems funny, doesn't it?" asked Bulma. She gave a sad laugh to nobody, and Vegeta stopped in midair near a closed door. Cracks of dim light outlined the door on three sides, and he could see and hear the flickering of a television being turned up. Still he could hear his wife's voice if he focussed enough.

 

"Well, I've got another business trip coming up. Yes, in Metro North. You can? Good…."

 

It sounded like a business call. She had mentioned another business trip yesterday. Vegeta felt a small pang of relief till it registered she was talking in another room. Perhaps she did not wish to disturb his slumber. Yet why come down here?

 

"Hehehe, yes I'll be wearing the blue dress. You what? Yes I know it's at the North Royal Five star. The usual suite."

 

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at what he next heard, "I don't know… Vegeta… he'll just be training. Like he always is. You know how Saiyans are. Yes… I'll be careful. But this really has to happen."

 

What had to happen, he wondered. Vegeta steeled himself to listen to more which was on one level ambiguous but on another incriminating. "A whole week. The usual wine and cheese and butt kissing, you know. Yeah… just like that time in Metro West when you first came… I Know I was MAD that time, but I didn't expect you'd ditch me and go… oh sorry… I guess you DO get where I'm coming from. It was years ago, but it seems like only yesterday."

 

"Son Goku was just a kid then. Yes you KNOW we went to the amusement park but YOU were… oh yes I've gotten over it. That was decades ago…. Yes…. No… I mean… you figured it out. The point is, that sometimes you need a slice of the past to hang onto. Something to remind you of what normal life is like…"

 

"Normal life," Vegeta mumbled to himself. He drifted over and placed his ear to the door. HE could hear Bulma's weight shifting on the bed, and the creak of springs. Then the buzz of a voice muffled by a phone against an ear was discernible. He couldn't make out just what it was saying, but he could make out the tone was not female.

 

It was male. Someone laughing and somber all at once. Bulma's laugh peeled like a familiar bell, and Vegeta realized she hadn't laughed in his presence like that for years. "Yes… yes… it's hard to believe. I know I'm not getting any younger, but at least you can get that. You and me, we never lost touch. In all that time it's hard to believe you never just quit…"

 

Vegeta's anger flared. His hands formed into fists at his sides. Around him the shades of gray suddenly turned red. Every instinct told him to barge in and demand what she was doing. His hand however stopped only centimeters from opening the door knob when he heard the resigned sigh in Bulma's voice. She sounded so lost at that moment, it was like having a sluice of cold water drenching him. Any hint of anger or rage faded in the wake of guilt. She wouldn't comprehend his culture. Especially not when he heard her say, "There are parts of being Saiyan that I just don't get. I mean I've lived with one for years, and it just seems unnatural."

 

"Unnatural," Vegeta growled low. Disgust filled him and instead of breaking the door down he whirled around. Without a second glance he flew through the hallway towards the room he had shared with Bulma all these decades.

 

Human culture said what he had done was unspeakable. By their standards he'd had an affair, and was just as guilty as she. How could he judge her any other way now that she had proved herself just as 'guilty'. Nevertheless, was she so guilty to have sought comfort from someone who was human and had known her for a greater number of years. Did those few minutes negate close to a lifetime of emotional and physical intimacy. At that moment Vegeta thought so. All his notions of security disintegrated into a morass of uncertainty and loathing of anything human. Old emotions bubbled to the surface and all Vegeta could see was the red haze again and the desire to grab whatever he considered his out of the closet. Ripping off the spandex shorts Vegeta hurled anything that was 'earthlike' from his wardrobe. He dug through the extensive hangers to grab a small unobtrusive box long ago buried. Tucking it under his arm, Vegeta grabbed a few of his blue workout suits, and hastily dressed himself. He thrust his feet into a pair of worn but familiar boots with gold toes. He snatched a pair of well worn gloves and drew them over his hands with well practiced ease. Seeing all the outfits of human clothes Bulma had bought him, he fought the urge to disintegrate them.

 

Instead he exited by way of the balcony. Soon he was a small blue comet streaking through the skies of early morning. All that remained was the wind blasting the curtains open, and the rumpled sheets of his bed. Instinct guided him towards the forest area which had been his refuge before, and would soon be his home again.

 

Meanwhile Bulma had heard a burst of air, and felt a familiar presence. She excused herself from the phone and rushed to the door to open it. Seeing no one she scratched her head. Then she returned to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Whatever it was she would find out tomorrow. Still an ache inside told her something had happened. She threw open the door and rushed panting through the hallway. Up the stairs to her own room she raced, bursting into the bedroom. Only an empty bed and lapping curtains greeted her.

 

"Vegeta…" she called out to the darkness. "Vegeta… are you here?"

 

Her foot brushed something soft as she almost tripped over it. Leaning over she grabbed the rumpled scrap of black silk. The torn edges did not bode well, and she felt the warmth of his body still present before the cold wind whipped it away. Then her line of sight traced to the open door of the walk in closet. Garments were strewn haphazardly on the floor. Everything added up to the realization that Vegeta had gone and in a hurry too.

 

"Vegeta… damn it, you weren't supposed to leave," she drew in a deep sigh. He had made the decision she had dreaded for so long. Out of her hands he had taken the choice between emotional and physical comfort from an old lover, and the relationship they had spent twenty years building. Somehow he must have known all along what was transpiring. How they were growing apart, and how her needs were no longer met by a Saiyan, but by someone who had stood by all those years patiently when she would need him most.

 

Resentment filled Bulma and she dropped to the floor. Hands over her face she drew in a deep sigh. All the careful plans about evading Vegeta's questions were for naught now that he had left. Something told her he wouldn't be back anytime soon. Still she felt justified in what she had done. He had chosen Goku over her, and she only felt anger and pity instead of jealousy.