To Be Honest

BY : saiyansecret
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 2531
Disclaimer: I own nothing of DBZ and make no money writing fanfiction.

To Be Honest

{Vegeta/Goten prompt idea from fireball-fuschia of Tumblr}

{Happy 5/10 Day, all - that is great timing!}

The door to Dr. Briefs' personal lab was locked solid, the security drones humming in non-stop vigilance in case its red warning light and ominous-looking signs were not sufficient to keep away any intruders.

Though he should technically be retired, the concept was not part of the dedicated scientist's vocabulary. And, of course, his grandson could not be too prepared as the company's future president.

He paused at the centrifuge, where Bulma intently watched the spinning tubes holding months of research literally in suspense. "A watched pot never boils, dear," he lightly reminded her.

"I was thinking." She tapped a pen beside her notebook with a grin. "I still can't believe you got this idea from Hercule Satan."

Dr. Briefs snickered. "I'm sure he'll be glad to know when the results are in, but Buu might not be too happy to hear it."

He turned to the intercom to call in Mrs. Briefs, who was glad to bring her culinary skills to service. As hard as her family worked to make the world a better place, her assistance was the least she could do.

"Yeah, and I'm not in a hurry to tell anyone just yet," she fretted, "It's unethical as hell. Not that the monsters that attack us are too worried about that, but how are we going to test it?"

"The eternal dilemma of science," her father replied calmly, though that was indeed the million zeni question.


Summer was a welcome time for Trunks and Goten, in particularly this one, as Trunks' second year of university in the Fall would see him busier. The former's internship was to begin in a few days, so he would be taking advantage of the little free time he had.

"When do we leave?" Goten asked from the hallway, staring excitedly at his ticket to a rock concert they would be attending that evening.

"I'll be done in... about an hour," Trunks guessed, "Normally a regular assistant takes care of this stuff, but Mom and Grandpa wouldn't trust them with a project under high security."

"What kind of project?" Goten inquired.

"I don't know. They won't even tell me." Trunks scowled at the unfairness he thought of that.

"Oh. Need any help?" Goten was already impatient.

Trunks warily raised an eyebrow as he shut the lab door behind him. "No."


Goten was never simply bored; he fully committed himself to the state, and nothing really interested him until whatever he was waiting for was given satisfaction.

Now, he'd given up being cool and began to pace, crossly hoping they would not be late to the concert after looking forward to it for so long.

The door of the office adjacent to the lab opened, and Bulma looked out. "Goten, can you give me a hand with these boxes?" she asked busily, "We need this space clear."

"Sure." Settling for the small distraction, Goten lifted several storage boxes filled with books and papers, which he placed on an empty shelf above.

Dr. Briefs called her back into the lab, and she looked up anxiously. "Stay here," she firmly told Goten, and hurried back.

The latter complied, wondering what was going on when, like Trunks, she did not return. Not knowing what he was supposed to do, Goten paced in the office instead.

In her rush, Bulma had forgotten to close the lab door, which was opened to a crack. Goten peeked in to see what all the fuss was about. On a table next to the office, a glass-covered tray caught his eye, and his stomach growled at the sight of freshly baked cupcakes. Doubting that they would have time for a snack, he looked both ways, then eagerly reached for it.

Another person would have quickly backed off at seeing a menacing-looking symbol with the word 'biohazard' stamped in red, but Goten smirked at the obvious joke.

"Nice try, Trunks," he muttered, and shamelessly devoured half of them. They were chocolate flavored. He hesitated with a pang of guilt, but decided the other demi Saiyan deserved it for making him wait so long, and polished off the rest. Quickly, he brushed the telltale crumbs into the garbage, and put back the tray as it had been.

Innocently, he wandered back into the hallway, at least feeling more calm as the next few minutes passed.

Vegeta crossed the hallway with an impatient glance toward the lab, annoyed that his son was spending more time in there than training with him, as he felt he should be.

Knowing it was futile to insist, he turned to Goten. "Hey, I've got no one to spar with," he told him simply, which for him passed as an invitation.

Goten inwardly cringed, not because he disliked training, or disliked Vegeta. It was a bit more complicated. "Uhm, I... I would, if I didn't have... plans," he faltered, and shifted uncomfortably.

"That's what you said yesterday," Vegeta reminded him accusingly, fixing him with his piercing glare.

He was standing a bit too close, and a drop of sweat formed on Goten's brow. "But it's true," he said quickly, "I swear, I... I really would. Tomorrow's okay." His heart was beating too fast, and he hoped that his breathing did not sound as shaky as it felt.

Prepared for a sarcastic retort, Vegeta paused. "Do I make you nervous or something?" he inquired.

"Well, yeah," Goten mumbled without thinking, and took a step back, keeping his eyes on the floor. The back of his shoe hit the wall with a dull thud, which did not help his posture.

"Why?" The prince seemed entertained by the idea, as it had been awhile since anyone had shown any intimidation toward him.

It was impossible to not be aware of how perfectly his black spandex shorts outlined his lithe form and musculature, but Goten preferred to keep those thoughts to himself, not when he was standing face to face with him.

Vegeta clearly expected a reply, though he himself was seemingly glued to the floor, and his mind raced to find the first lame way out of it. "Why do you have to be so hot?" he blurted, then clamped his hand over his own mouth.

I did not just say that! he internally screamed, knowing that his cheeks burned red by now, but the other Saiyan's astonished look suggested otherwise.

Vegeta blinked, staring incredulously at him. "What did you say?"

"Hot-headed," Goten corrected, becoming angry that he should be so amused at his expense, "What did you think? Get over yourself!" He pushed past him, ready to make a run for it.

He almost collided with Trunks, who had just stepped out of the lab. "Sorry for the- hey! What's with him?" he asked.

"No idea," Vegeta replied indifferently.

Trunks caught up with Goten, slipping his street shoes back on. "You're mad because I took too long, huh? Sorry, but there was more to do than I thought."

Goten turned his anger on him. "It'll be a miracle if we're not late! And the scarf with that shirt looks dumb as fuck!"

"What's wrong with it?" Trunks demanded, "You said it was fine."

Goten did not appear to have heard him. When Bulma looked to see what the noise was about, he turned to inform her, "And your haircut sucks, too!" He turned and stalked out the door, preferring to wait outside.

The three of them were properly confused.

"I didn't think he'd be that pissed," Trunks muttered, but hurried to leave, knowing better than to provoke a Son's temper.

Vegeta tilted his head. Interesting.


Not much later, pandemonium reigned at Capsule Corp as Bulma and Dr. Briefs scrambled about, nearly turning the lab upside down in search of several months of difficult research, and especially a terrible danger.

The noise level even perturbed Vegeta, who emerged to demand into the outside speaker, "What the hell is going on in there?"

The door slid open and the two of them appeared, frazzled.

"Don't panic!" Dr. Briefs exclaimed, though both were doing exactly that.

"Does anyone think we ever panic in here?" Bulma yelled, pulling at her own hair.

"What happened?" Vegeta almost didn't want to ask.

"What we can't find is enough sodium penothal to kill five average cows," Dr. Briefs replied, in the process of emptying another cabinet with Scratch of Nth generation hanging by his claws onto his shoulder.

"Soda-what?" Vegeta demanded impatiently.

"Truth serum," Bulma defined, "A drug that's unscrupulously used to force someone to tell the truth. It's in case the Earth is invaded again, to use against the attacker. That is what we can't find!"

"Truth serum?" As the words registered, Vegeta had to bite the insides of his cheeks to not burst out laughing.

"Worse," she added, "No one had access to it. The boys left hours ago, and we have no idea who could have stolen it. Except for the warning label, it was put into some innocent-looking cupcakes. If someone does find them..."

Vegeta could not stifle it in time, and leaned against the door in peals of laughter, earning him horrified glares.

"How could you think that is even remotely funny?" she demanded, forgetting that saying 'it's not funny' was akin to saying 'calm down' in her case. Indeed, he only laughed harder, and her panic turned to angry panic. "Does it have to be a special occasion for you to not be such an asshole?"

"Come on now, I'm sure he didn't mean it that way," Dr. Briefs interjected uneasily.

"Yes, I did." Vegeta casually folded his arms, decidedly entertained.

Mrs. Briefs cheerfully joined them, carrying a large tray. "Did I miss something?"

Bulma turned to her, fuming. "Will you tell him there's nothing funny about losing a deadly poison?"

"Oh, it'll turn up," Mrs. Briefs replied, unphased. She held out the tray and offered, "Cupcakes? There's no green stuff in them."

"NO!" Her family was unanimous.


Trunks had returned late the night before, after the rest of the household was asleep. He wondered if it were just him, or if everyone was acting peculiarly.

Having decided to say nothing to anyone to avoid any self-fulfilling mass panic, Bulma and Dr. Briefs only observed the rest of the Z-gang, given the fair probability of the unsuspecting thief not being human, or entirely so. The Dragon radar was prepared, however.

"How was your concert?" Bulma distractedly asked Trunks.

"It was awesome. We even got autographed pics taken with them," Trunks reported, proudly showing his copy.

Bulma took a closer look at the photograph with a nostalgic smile. "That was nice of them," she commented, "I hope it cheered Goten up."

"Yeah," Trunks waved off, "We weren't late." He paused, scrutinizing the signed photo. "Do you think my scarf looks dumb?"


Goten returned to Capsule Corp after lunch in a cheerful mood, wearing his new concert T-shirt, as was Trunks. He showed off his copy of their picture to everyone who would look, including Bra, who didn't understand much, and Vegeta, who understood even less.

Still, the Saiyan prince indulged him, and looked at his picture. "So you told me the truth about having plans," he reflected innocently, "You said you're free for sparring today, right?"

"Yeah," Goten replied, but frowned to himself, having planned to leave before he could ask.

"It's about time someone is," Vegeta commented, "Get changed, unless you don't mind a new shirt ripped up."

"I don't mind," Goten replied, hastily adding, "Not this one. I couldn't afford a new one." Again he scowled to himself, both at the sore subject of Trunks always paying for everything, and what he hoped sailed over his head. He did not mind at all when the other Saiyan ripped up his gi or tunic in the heat of training battle, but why had he said that?

"Hurry up, then," Vegeta told him crisply, his face suggesting neither.

Goten complied, glad for the momentary escape. All he had to do was keep his thoughts focused in the void, as he'd been taught.

He undressed in the changing room, confused. Lately he had a big mouth, which was getting him in trouble with everyone. The night before, his mother had been less than pleased when he'd bragged of he and Trunks convincing some college students to buy them beers, and did not take it well when he'd told her he found the salmon overcooked.

Result, he had to make dinner that evening, seeing as he'd mysteriously become such a better cook, not minding the thankless, hard work. That was a little harsh for constructive criticism, he thought indignantly.

He would just have to be more careful, he affirmed as he pulled on and fastened his gi; dressed for business, as it were.


Several minutes into their practice, Goten decided that Vegeta must have forgotten his Freudian slip, or simply hadn't understood. That was likely, as he didn't understand certain figures of speech.

Halfway through their workout, Vegeta called a pause for more stretching. It vastly improved Goten's technique by keeping his muscles flexible, and it benefited his own as well.

To parry the awkward moment, Goten kept his attention on each stretch to avoid drawing any attention to himself.

But Vegeta had been considering him, with his unreadable expression as always.

Goten pretended not to notice, but trying to ignore Vegeta was like trying to ignore a cat. To break the tension, finally he asked, "Is something wrong?"

Vegeta looked puzzled, and replied, "No. Why?"

"Nobody can tell if you're ticked off or just thinking," Goten replied automatically, "You got what's called a resting bitch face."

"What?" Vegeta's incredulous look synchronized with Goten's internal cringe.

Why were his thoughts leaving his mouth before they left his brain? Goten again auto-corrected, "I mean you look serious. I wondered if something was off."

"No." Vegeta contemplated him again. "I don't like Trunks missing his basic training," he told him, "It's not only my say because of his duty to the company, but training is more important. Who will fight if we're invaded besides you and me, if your father doesn't return? Your brother won't stand a chance. I won't have my son turning out that way."

Goten was a bit stunned that his senpai had told him his concern, and thought carefully before replying, "That's true. Both are important. One shouldn't prevent the other." He looked down, as nearly all Gohan's time had been spent on his academic studies. They'd yielded a successful career, yet at great cost. "I'm probably not the best one to ask. You said my dad's just a third-class, right?" It annoyed him when he spoke that way about his father.

"You're a Saiyan," Vegeta replied simply, "There's nothing you can do about it, but at least one of you are here." He paused, lowering his voice. "I know your power potential is higher than Trunks'. Why you hide it is beyond me, and you know my rule against it."

Goten was confused. "You think my ki level is higher?" he asked doubtfully. Usually, Trunks kicked his ass.

"Then you don't know," Vegeta concluded, "Your brother didn't, either. I guess you were never forced to find out."

Goten scowled. "So I should go invite someone to invade the earth so you can see if I'm a... puddytat," he stated moodily, that the other Saiyan should have such a weak opinion of him.

"That's not what I said," Vegeta argued impatiently, but had no reason to doubt his words, "You really don't know your ki has ascended?"

"No," Goten replied, "But it doesn't seem to be." That was not anything he expected to hear from Vegeta, and he wondered about it.

"It is," Vegeta assured him, as it had annoyed him at first, "His level has dropped, but yours has promise, with nothing to interfere. You're the one I should be training."

It was true that since Goku had been gone to oversee Uub's training, he only had Vegeta now. The fact was another sore subject for him, in many ways. "What do you care?" he retorted, quite frankly now.

Seeing that he'd vexed him, Vegeta smoothed over, in his way, "I don't like to lose, and Kakarot's priorities are screwed up. Lucky for him there's me."

Goten's irritation faded. "That's why you insist on sparring with me?"

"It's the least of things," Vegeta replied, hitting two birds with one stone before adding, "And I have no one to spar with."

Goten smiled to himself at the prince's sulky tone. "Alright, then."

Vegeta smiled genuinely at him, then went back to his stretch.

Goten felt his cheeks blush warmly. "Why can't I just kiss you?" he mumbled before he could censor himself.

Vegeta looked up, his mouth opening with astonishment. He definitely hadn't imagined it.

"Joking," Goten feigned lightly with a nervous grin, "I mean I thought I sucked really bad."

"Maybe you'll suck better," Vegeta commented in his deadpan humor.

Goten stared at him in bewilderment, all too aware of the lingering red flush that now burned his cheeks.

"What?" Vegeta asked innocently.

Goten's eyes narrowed, but he hid his face against his outstretched leg. Was he doing that on purpose?

Vegeta interrupted his thoughts by announcing briskly, "Back to work," before handspringing to his feet.

Goten stood up, confused by his abrupt changes of attitude, but took his place in the center of the Gravity Room.

Vegeta leaned closer and mumbled, "Maybe I'll get to see how flexible you really are," then commanded, "Hajime."

Having no time to anticipate his attack, Goten found himself sprawled facedown on the floor, indignantly stunned. "You cheated!" he exclaimed angrily, more at the way he'd destabilized him than the actual takedown.

Vegeta brutally twisted his arms behind his back, and pinned him down by the tailbone with his knee. "You dare accuse your sensei of cheating?" he growled harshly.

Goten hissed a sharp gasp at the pain in his arms, but his true discomfort was precisely where Vegeta's knee pressed into his tailbone.

"You aren't concentrating," Vegeta informed him impatiently, "Why?"

The latter's words sounded distant, as to his dismay he felt himself begin to harden at the other's proximity, and at the light pressure exactly where his tail had been. The way he restrained his arms doubled his excitement, and he made a conscious effort to calm his breathing. "You're making me- distracted," he caught himself in time, hoping the tremor that passed through him went unnoticed.

Behind him, Vegeta's smirk widened as he removed his knee and freed his arms. "Then your first lesson is to avoid distraction."

Goten scrambled as far away as the walls allowed before warily standing, not trusting himself to speak. He swore that Vegeta was deliberately making fun of him, but why? The timing could not be worse, as he could not get out of training, thus avoid him. ChiChi would also be glad to hear of the arrangement, as she'd already lectured him about not sitting on his butt all summer.

The rest of the session passed normally however, leading him to reason that he'd probably imagined it.

Indeed, when he called its end, Vegeta simply told him, "See you tomorrow. Don't be late."

"Hai." Goten bowed dutifully and took his leave, beginning to question his own sanity.


When the halfbreed left, Vegeta quit stifling his amusement. Goten obviously had no clue of what was happening, and he was enjoying himself. Indeed, the former's power ascension was true, and he knew its side effect too well. With the added "truth serum" which he'd unknowingly consumed in true Son fashion... The thought made him laugh out loud again.

He'd been discreetly admiring Kakarot's brat for quite some time now. "Brat" did not technically fit him anymore, and the thought of his perfectly toned musculature framed by his deep purple gi made him stop laughing. He looked good.

Now, he had a legitimate reason to spend time with him rather than idly imagining what was not likely to happen. At least, it was what he'd believed; now, he wasn't so sure of that, and if Goten felt the same way, that changed everything. The former's innocent expression was quite deceptive, he suspected.

Still, he reasoned, it would be prudent to make sure of that, and he had a surefire way of doing so. Vegeta's sly smirk returned. He could not have planned it better himself.


The next day, Goten arrived in uniform well in advance to not be late, as promised.

"Hi, Goten," Bulma greeted him cheerfully as she opened the door.

"Hey, Bulma-san," Goten replied, noticing her nervously preoccupied look. "How's your project going?"

"Kind of slowed down." Something seemed different, though he looked the same. "I meant to ask you," she continued as she led him to the kitchen, "In the lab office the other day, did you see anything unusual?"

Goten thought about it, but drew a blank. "No," he shrugged, though unusual to the Z-gang was widely relative. "Why?" He accepted the offered chair with a glass of lemonade.

"I didn't think so," Bulma waved off, and placed a pack of biscuits on the table. Seeing Vegeta look impatiently into the kitchen, she told him, "You still got twenty minutes. Let him finish his snack, and he's all yours."

"I hope so," Vegeta replied, biting back a smirk as Goten choked on his drink.

"Take it easy," Bulma admonished him on the way back to the lab. Goten shot Vegeta a furtive glare.

"What kind of greeting is that?" Vegeta asked in stern reproach, but took a seat and helped himself to a glass of lemonade. It tasted of very strong lemon, balanced perfectly sweetened.

Goten said nothing, but intensely thought of a much better one with a faint smile.

"I was going to ask," Vegeta began with his own idea of good timing, "Power ascensions usually have some side effects. Have any of them been disturbing?"

Goten looked up in surprise, then quickly back down, his mind racing as fast as his pulse. Indeed, Gohan had warned him about the accompanying heat cycles and short tempers, and Vegeta certainly knew that. Carefully he replied, "My mother thinks I'm being rude. I tried to tell her it's not my fault."

"That's normal," Vegeta agreed, which calmed him, "Anything else, like trouble sleeping?"

"That, too," Goten admitted, and literally bit his tongue to omit the reason for it. Still, he gave him a suspicious look at his seeming concern.

Vegeta only nodded. "I can tell. That would explain why you're distracted," he managed with a straight face.

"And I have to concentrate more," Goten finished dryly.

"Indeed." Vegeta glanced at the clock and stood. "Let's go."

Goten hastily swallowed the rest of his drink, and followed him to the Gravity Room. He began his stretching at once, but Vegeta paused at an air conduct.

"Do you think the air conditioning is working?" the latter wondered aloud.

"Dunno." Goten blinked, as his family did not have it, and Vegeta had never been concerned about such things. "Why?"

"You said it's hot in here," Vegeta seemed to remember.

"It's not hard in- hot in here. It's fine today, but it would be better if you quit wearing those tight spandex." Goten forced his mouth to clack shut. He ardently wished the earth would swallow him.

"Suit yourself," Vegeta shrugged off lightly with an interested glance, and began his own warm ups, "Most Saiyans complain about heat when their power elevates, but I don't think anyone ever died of it."

Having braced himself for more auto-censoring, Goten looked up. "Died?"

"If you pass out, I'll recusitate you," Vegeta calmly told him. Goten only stared at him, making him wonder if the stuff had worn off, but the demi Saiyan's expression turned to a glare.

"Are you making fun of me, Vegeta?" he demanded indignantly.

"Why do you say that?" Ignoring his lack of manners, Vegeta copped an innocent look, which he didn't pull off very well.

Goten only became angrier, and clenched both fists. "If you think I'm fair game to mock, then do it by yourself! And you can take that any way you want!" He stalked toward the door to get his bag, but Vegeta firmly grasped his collar and forced him to sit.

"I'm not mocking you." Vegeta looked surprised, but could see that he clearly lacked sleep, among other things. "Why don't you tell me what the problem is."

Goten scowled, and slumped. "I don't know why, but I keep saying stupid things."

"You're the first one to admit it, so your genetics must be improving," Vegeta attempted at encouragement.

Goten ignored the comment. "I mean, things I don't want to say. That's what makes them stupid."

"I see." Vegeta considered him seriously for the first time that week. "Well, are those things true?"

"What?" Goten's mouth opened incredulously, then he immediately shut it, scowling. "I know you're doing it on purpose, so don't deny it." His eyes darted toward the door, weighing his chances of escaping before it could get any worse, or starting a fight that he was sure to lose.

Vegeta gripped his shoulder so hard it made him flinch. "You didn't answer my question. Are they true?"

"What does it matter?" Goten snapped, and tried in vain to get away. But Vegeta had insistantly seized both of his arms, and he could only look away to hide his face, reddened from anger and embarrassment.

Vegeta thought for a moment before quietly pointing out, "Why would I make you say what I don't want to hear?"

Goten's face turned to astonishment. "You mean...?"

Vegeta's grip loosened to a simple presence. "I didn't say you have to speak if you don't want to. Just tell me the truth."

Goten's eyes slowly raised, and this time he looked at him differently. His heart pounded wildly, for a different reason. Vegeta gave him the genuine smile he'd only ever seen the day before, and lightly brushed his cheek.

Before he knew what was happening, Goten leaned close for a hesitant kiss. Vegeta was ready for it, and his arms closed tightly around him to pull him into his lap. A more pleasant heat filled them as their bodies entwined, hands greedily caressing what only their eyes had been secretly permitted.

"Goten..." Vegeta pressed his face into his soft, sweet-smelling hair as he pulled his legs snugly around him.

Goten cried out sharply as his almost painful erection rubbed against Vegeta's own. The latter growled low in his throat, and his hands clawed into Goten's ass to increase the friction. The younger man's clothes all looked two sizes too big for him, but hid none of his perfection from Vegeta.

Goten's wide, shining eyes were half-closed with desire, and he freely stroked Vegeta's spandex-clad form to the hard bulge between his legs. He felt faint when the latter's sharp teeth sunk teasingly into the side of his throat.

"I want to take our time," what Goten thought was his own sultry voice said to the object of his long-suppressed passion, "But will you please fuck me before I explode?"

Vegeta purred into his heated kiss, letting Goten's tongue win the battle for dominance, for now. "You got it." He wasted no time pulling him by the arm toward his bedroom. "The air conditioning is better in my room, if you see what I mean."

He did not need to tell him twice, and carefully locked his door before he pushed Goten back onto his bed with a conspiratorial look. "I think you should stay here for a few days. I'll explain why later." He would certainly be angry, but something told him that he would forgive him.

Goten nodded impatiently, and swiftly turned Vegeta onto his back for a heated makeout while clothes were tugged off haphazardly.

The next few hours were a blur of stunning rapture as Goten experienced first his senpai's talented mouth, then his penetration in every sense that left him seeing stars long after both were happily sated.

Vegeta watched the sunset with half-closed eyes. He knew it would be good, but this was more akin to a euphoria he'd never before experienced.

Night had fallen when they finally settled down to sleep. It was not easy to fit both of them in Vegeta's single bed, but even he didn't mind, still smiling faintly in his lover's embrace.

Was that what they were now? he thought, stunned despite himself. He looked down at Goten's sleepy form with a fond kiss, knowing how easily he could get used to this... or rather, that he could no longer do without it.

As though reading his mind, Goten drowsily asked, "Can we do this all the time?"

"Sure, since I'm keeping you," Vegeta affirmed confidently, but added, "It's what you want, right?"

"Yes, believe me." Goten happily put his head back on Vegeta's shoulder, purring softly.

The latter smiled lazily. "I believe you." Though his arm would be numb the next day, it was worth it, Vegeta thought as he shut off his lamp. The calendar on his digital clock read 05/10. It was a day he would be sure to remember.


※The End※

{A/N: Sodium penothal as reputed "truth serum" has no proven accuracy in reality, but for the story we'll pretend it does!}

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