BY : Felix_McKraken
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1872
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters. This was made purely for entertainment purposes and no profit is made off of it.

Nowhere: 26

Morning came and Vegeta awoke to a full bladder. By peering around, he surmised he was alone. He slid out from under the warm blankets and into the ensuite bathroom. After relieving himself, he spent some time looking through the tiny window at the blue sky. Hearing movement on the other side of the door snapped him out of his trance, and he washed his hands before opening the door a crack.

The woman, Bulma, was changing the covers of the bed. He spied a tray of food and a bundle of clothes on the table and spoke up, “Hey.”

She stopped what she was doing in order to look at him directly, “Hey yourself.”

“You mind passing me those?” he inquired, referring to the clothing.

Bulma walked the pile over to him. He reached out, but she pulled it back and sniped, “Only if you’re not going to be complete dick to me today.”

Their eyes met, and he nodded. She relinquished her grip, allowing him to abscond with the items in order to get dressed.

When he emerged he immediately headed for the food. Scavenging left little room for being fastidious. The food looked richer than anything he’d had in recent memory. Although insects were indeed a good caloric and nutritional input, he wasn’t overly fond of their texture. Even though the scent was basically driving him ravenous, the prince was aware he’d have to exercise caution. The abrupt change from his pitiful diet could still cause adverse effects. So he sat in the chair, forcing himself to chew slowly. To pass the time, he watched Bulma finish some chores then tinker with some machinery that was behind the headboard.

It was exceedingly difficult to apply restraint due to the ambrosial flavour, but reason won out. It proved wise when three quarters of his way through the meal he felt that he could eat no more. Placing the utensils neatly to the side of the tray he addressed his most pressing matter, “Where’s Kakarot?”

The scientist gave him an expression primarily composed of perplexity, “He went home last night.”

Vegeta grumbled aloud, “Asshole. I told him I wanted to speak today.”

She was going to point out that everyone wasn’t required to wait on him hand and foot, but decided against telling a monarch that. “About what?” she instead asked as her curiosity was more than spiked. Vegeta was a person of action and as such was usually reserved when it came to his words. Getting him to open up had been a vexing process, so she had difficulty fathoming what he’d want to discuss with his rival that wasn’t addressed the previous day.

His face became stony and warned her that she’d reached restricted territory. He originally was going to make a snappy retort, but he had agreed to be nicer. So instead he took a breath and replied, “Does it really matter?”

Bulma still caught the curt edge of the seemingly rhetorical question, “I don’t know. Does it?”

Her tone was just right to cause a single burst of laughter. He might find her pesky, but he could also see himself appreciating her sense of humour. “Just get him over here,” the brunet commanded lightheartedly.

“For goodness sake,” the lady dug into her pocket and retrieved her cell, “You’re fine with the capsules, but not with the phones? Here.” She dialed the Son household and pressed the phone against his ear, forcing him to take it.

A female he didn’t recognise answered. Not that he could say he was capable of recognising much at the moment. He asked to speak to Kakarot and could hear the clatter of dishes in the background. He was told to hold, and he faintly heard her converse with someone else. In the downtime he became acutely aware of Bulma’s presence. He did not like the scrutiny.

“Hello?” Kakarot came across chipper yet mildly befuddled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vegeta asked, genuine and without an ounce of anger.

“Uh…eating breakfast.”

“I said ‘tomorrow’, Kakarot. It’s tomorrow.”

“Okay?” the other man sounded completely bewildered by now.

“If this is payback, I swear I’m going to kick your ass,” the prince threatened earnestly.

His friend gave an uncomfortable laugh, “C’mon, give me a break.”

“I’ll consider it when you get your ass over here.”

“Oh. Um. Okay?”

“I mean it,” Vegeta declared, “I’m going to punch you once for every minute you make me wait.”

“Hey-“ Goku started, but the royal Saiyan cut him off.

“Clock’s ticking.” He didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up, passing the device back to Bulma. She was looking at him oddly so he defensively asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” she took a moment too long to answer casually while she pocketed her cell. She obviously had something on her mind but refrained from sharing. Luckily, Vegeta had no inclination to pursue the matter. The engineer picked up his food tray and headed for the exit, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you should really rest today. I’ll bring you some lunch later if you don’t do anything stupid.”

He flipped her off at the apparent insult, though she only grinned at this reaction. Once she left, Vegeta found himself unable to do much else other than watch the clock. It was a long, droll four minutes and he was about to get up and explore when Kakarot’s voice rang out directly behind him.


Vegeta startled hard, “Fuck! I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I just got here,” Goku explained, second guessing the use of his Instant Transmission.

“No shit,” the prince chided while rising to his feet, “You could at least knock.”

“Sorry,” the black-haired hero apologised. He was still punched on the shoulder so he protested, “Hey!”

Dishing out three more punches, Vegeta explained, “You still made me wait.”

Goku rubbed his bicep because it smarted, but he felt almost giddy because of the downright chummy occurrence. Purposely aiming for such a non-vital area indicated the prince was being friendly. “I didn’t mean to,” he clarified, “I had to explain to Chi-Chi what was going on before I could come.”

“Who?” Vegeta asked before directly coming to the correct conclusion, “Oh, the woman. When did you meet her?”

That was a bizarre question. Vegeta never prodded into his history and wanting to know about his wife was completely incongruent. It wasn’t a rude inquiry, so despite how nonsensical it was he opted to answer it, “Geez, I guess I was twelve at the time.”

“What?” Vegeta looked one hundred percent mystified although Goku could not even guess as to why.

The younger male found himself mimicking the query, “What?”

“You’re telling me you knew this person since you were twelve and I’m just now hearing about it?” the brunet was oozing exasperation.

“What…?” Goku was completely lost and that little ball from yesterday was making a comeback in the pit of his stomach.

“How long have I been staying with you at this point?” Vegeta asked, looking at his hands as if to count on them.

What, rang through Goku’s head as he remained frozen, trying to decipher the questions.

The prince’s eyebrows furrowed in their classic way, and his hands clenched into fists. “I can’t believe you sometimes,” the prince grumbled, “I know I shouldn’t have left as I did, but don’t you think I’ve gone through enough?” Goku’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he was unable to garner a cohesive response. Vegeta interpreted this as a different type of indecision, “Kakarot… please. I admit I didn’t adhere to your warning, but we’re here aren’t we?”

“I…” Goku’s mind was swirling as too much was happening too quickly, “Yeah?”

Vegeta released a disgusted sigh and collapsed onto the bed. His feet grazed the floor as he let his arms splay out in a top half spread eagle. He stared up at his flabbergasted companion and mistook the lack of gregariousness for disapproval, “I thought I might have died, you know. I don’t think I cared. I don’t know if I do care.”

The ball of apprehension was a tight, constant presence while the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Goku still had no idea what to say. Dark eyes met his and locked him into place.

“Not one obnoxiously vulgar remark,” the brunet murmured, “You must really be pissed at me.”

The other man latched onto the only portion that made sense, “I’m not mad at you.”

Vegeta threw an arm over his eyes and snapped with emotion, “Then maybe you should be.”

For what? Goku’s mind shouted, unable to follow the disjointed dialogue with its own aberrant logic. “No,” he cautiously disagreed, “I don’t think so.”

“You’re too damn kind,” Vegeta breathed out his reproach and unshielded his face, “I honestly thought you were going to make me work for it.” He gave the third class a small smirk before climbing to his feet and heading towards the door. He looked back when he didn’t hear accompanying footsteps, “What’re you waiting for? I don’t know the way.”

Goku found it difficult to lead to an unknown destination, “Where’re we goin’?”

The prince looked at him as if he were being obtuse, “Your place.”


“I mean, you’re always welcome,” Goku practically stuttered, still trying to puzzle everything out, “but can I ask why?”

Vegeta stilled and his expression clouded over, “Where else am I going to stay?”

The taller was stunned that the other Saiyan would invite himself into his domicile. “Here, with Bulma?” he couldn’t quite make it a statement as he wondered if perhaps they had a fight. After all, things seemed pretty tense between them yesterday.

“Why would I stay with a stranger?” the prince bristly remarked.


Confusion gave way to irritation, “Vegeta, this isn’t a funny joke.”

The elite’s already troubled face continued to darken, “And here you said you weren’t mad. Low blow, Kakarot. I expected some shit from you, but I didn’t think you’d do something like this.”

Goku felt like the butt of a cruel prank, “I don’t know why you’re acting this way. I figured this sort of thing was beneath you.”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?” the royalty practically hissed as he thrust his livid visage into Goku’s personal space, “All you had to say was that you didn’t want me around. I guess I should have known you’d twist the knife. Fuck.”

“Vegeta-” Goku was legitimately surprised by the audacious sincerity.

“No, I get it. I don’t know how many times you told me not to leave.”

His friend was able to catch it this time – the allusion to previous conversations that never took place. The ball of apprehension churned his gut and made him reconsider what was happening. It felt like this whole time they’d been talking past each other instead of to each other.

“Vegeta, hold on. When did I tell you not to leave Earth?”

The prince gestured vaguely, but looked uncertain, “Plenty of times.”

“Okay, but when?” he pressed.

“I didn’t mark it on the calendar,” the shorter of the two shot back, no longer full of fury but doubt, “It was several times… over… the past… couple months.” Even as the words haltingly came out, Vegeta appeared to have misgivings about their authenticity.

The brunet felt a swell of distress as he realised they were experiencing a monumental misalignment. His previously static-filled brain felt like it was instead choked by a plethora of threads, each one an impossibly long tether that eventually led to a snippet of information. The options were shambolic, and he hated how inept it made him.

Goku’s swell of outrage from before was completely replaced by concern at this point. He knew Vegeta could be a good liar, but he didn’t think he’d be a good actor - subtle as the difference may be. “I think…” he started hesitantly, “I think maybe you should sit down. I’m going to get Bulma.”

“Why?” the other sounded suspicious.

He could have easily said that it was because she was smarter than him, and it would have been the truth. The second option seemed better and more direct, “Because I think you’re still sick.”

“Oh,” Vegeta replied, accepting the statement readily.

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