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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much	By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 12529 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ and I make no money ... only lemonade.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much

By Sefiru

Pairing: G/V

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: D/s, Yaoi

Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragonball Z and I make no money, only lemonade.

Pixelgodess: *sigh* I know. The creative juices take tie to flow …

animeslave18: you’ve figured out my plan to conquer the world!

4000 hits ! Thanks, everyone.

In this chapter: courtroom antics.

***

Chapter 14: Uncivil Court

***

      The courtroom is bland, practical and somewhat worn around the edges; there are cracks in some of the ceiling tiles and a coffee stain in one corner of the carpet. The only objects that could be considered decorative are two paintings of women in clingy gowns, one holding a torch and the other blindfolded and holding a scale. They are probably symbolic of something. The defense team is the first to arrive, on Ms. Shinkicker’s suggestion; the only other person here is the court reporter, who is setting up her computers.

      Kakarott sits down at the end of the defense table, offering me a choice of the chair to his left or the floor to his right. I take the floor. This puts me directly in view of the judge’s bench, but out of view of the rest of the room. I can also lean my head on Kakarott’s knee from here. Ms. Shinkicker takes the middle seat at the table, and then Mr. Cratchet, who is here as the paper carrier and a witness on Kakarott’s finances. His senior partner is napping in one of the audience chairs, a wooden cane hung over its back. And Brossel, in all his warrior-monk finery, is seated right behind us. Bulma shows up a few minutes later with Krillin and Yamcha in tow; she walks right up to our table and says to me, “So you’ve abandoned me for another man, have you?”

      “I was desperate for some intelligent conversation,” I reply dryly.

      She arches a brow. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

      We are ever-so-politely needling each other, and Kakarott is trying and failing not to laugh, when a squeal of “Dad!” cuts across the room. A dark blur shoots down the aisle and resolves itself into Kakarott’s son. He leaps over the table and into Kakarott’s arms; I narrowly dodge being kicked in the head. The harpy woman’s voice screeches,

     “Gohan! Get back here this instant!”

     I growl; it’s this woman’s fault I’m not sparring with Kakarott. Or practicing the fife. I slip an arm around Kakarott’s leg and start tapping out fingering patterns on his shin. He nuzzles his son and says, “Go sit down; we’ll get this mess sorted out, I promise.”

     Once the plaintiff team is here and settled, it’s only a few minutes until start time. A uniformed bailiff calls, “All rise!” We all stand up and the judge enters, bedecked in a black cloak and intricate wig. He sits, tells us to be seated, and bangs his gavel.

     “This court is now in session. Bailiff, what is the case?”

     The bailiff dutifully read out, “Son Chichi versus Son Goku …” The suit is done up in elaborate language, but boils down to the harpy suing Kakarott for being weird and for not mentioning that he had money. What is her problem, anyway?

     Then come the opening arguments. According to the plaintiffs, Kakarott is a negligent, irresponsible bum who is ungrateful to the mother of his child. According to the defense, Chichi is a money-grubbing petty tyrant who took advantage of Kakarott’s naiveté and sense of honor, fails to take into account his non-human biology, and demands that he conform to her own preconceptions. I think our side came off better on that one.

      The judge drums his fingers on the desk. “Ms. Son, did you ever directly ask your ex-husband about the state of his finances?”

      She glowers. “I assumed that Bulma or his other friends were giving him money. And then there was that time after the world tournament when he spent the whole prize on food – I thought that proved that he couldn’t handle money sensibly.”

      “Mr. Son?”

      “Oh yeah, that.” Kakarott leans back in his seat; I perk up, since I haven’t heard his version of this one before. “I must have said that the money was all gone, or something. What I meant was that I’d already given most of it to Mr. Cratchet, here. I mean, even for second prize it was a few hundred thousand. Even I don’t eat that much; I kept about three hundred bucks for the victory feast.”

      The judge nods, while most of Kakarott’s friends look surprised. “It sounds like you already were a client of Mr. Cratchet’s at the time.”

      “Yeah, Bulma suggested it when I got my inheritance.”

      Chichi’s eyes bulge. “What inheritance?”

      “From my grandfather,” Kakarott says, as if it should be obvious. “My adopted grandfather, Son Gohan senior,” he tells the judge.

      “Bulma, why didn’t you tell me?”

      “I thought you knew.” Chichi fumes in her seat, and I grin. Eat your own stupidity, harpy.

      “But there was never more than a thousand in our account!” she objects.

      “Well, that account was just for groceries and things, it didn’t need any more than that. It just tops up every month. You still have access to it, right?”

      She nods grudgingly. The judge raps his desk for order. “Mr. Son, you seem to care for your ex-wife, yet you are not contesting the divorce she obtained in absentia.”

      “Yeah.” Kakarott scratches his neck as he picks his words. “She asked me to marry her, and we were friends so I thought we were doing okay. It took me a while to figure out that married was supposed to be more than friends, and I didn’t feel that for her. It was getting to her, I could tell.”

      At this point Chichi’s attorney spoke up. “And you claim that your supposed alien biology is to blame for your inability to feel love?”

      For some reason I can’t spring across the room to tear his throat out; it takes me a moment to realize that Kakarott is holding onto my shoulder. Brossel is trying to murder the man with his eyes. Ms. Shinkicker idly holds up a finger and calls, “Objection! The representative for the plaintiff is slandering my client with that generalization.”

      The judge nods. “Sustained; Mr. Payne, I will not have you provoking the defendants in my courtroom.” The other man mumbles an apology; I settle back down at Kakarott’s feet, still growling under my breath. The judge continues, “Mr. Son, does the biological issue have anything to do with your defense?”

       “Yeah, that’s why I brought Brossel here, so you wouldn’t think I was pulling stuff out of my, uh, making stuff up.”

       “Come up to the stand, Mr. Brossel.”

       He chuckles as he settles into the witness chair. “Just Brossel, if you don’t mind. Brossel son of Califor.”

       “And what is your occupation, Brossel?”

       “I am lately the head of the Serada monastery on Dengar.” Those of Kakarott’s friends that are here are looking at him curiously; this is the first time they’ve ever seen a normal Saiyan, one raised in our culture. His green-and-gold finery stands out in the drab courtroom almost as much as Kakarott’s orange; he is wearing wrist cuffs of sculpted bronze, and his tail flows out the back of his chair like a banner.

       “All right,” says the judge, “Tell the court about your people.”

       “We are the Saiyans,” he begins. “A warrior people, by nature and culture. I will spare you a description of our history, which is mostly irrelevant to this discussion. As to our biology, we have, like many species, males and females; males are further distinguished into dominant and submissive. Both myself and Mr. Son happen to be dominants. We are not a pair-bonding species. Our women live in family groups, mothers and sisters and daughters, to raise children; our men form groups of four or five, led by a dominant male.” We have all agreed that harem was not a word helpful to our argument. “Our deepest connections are usually within our own gender, reproduction is another matter all together.”

        The Payne creature says, “So all of you are homosexual?”

        Kakarott has to hold my shoulder again. Brossel sighs. “Young man, you will not get far in life if you persist in this lack of listening skills.”

       “Aha! But you can hardly claim that the defendant’s mental difficulties are typical of your species.”

       “Actually, That’s fairly normal. I remember myself at that age; I think I was even stupider. All balls and no brain. Pardon my language,” he says to the judge, who waves for him to continue. “Our children are, well, children: no self-control or attention span, driven by appetites. After first maturation, we’re physically mature, but soaked in hormones and with even less attention span; males get markedly more aggressive. Only after second maturation are we considered mentally adult.”

       “And when did Mr. Son go through this second maturation?” the judge asks.

       “About a year ago.” That got a murmur from the audience. Chichi’s attorney gets back up.

       “So if you two are both dominant, would you fight each other over females?”

       Brossel answers honestly, “If he weren’t a quarter of my age, and so obviously out of my league. And if there are any females left at all.”

      “What do you mean by that?” the judge asks. Kakarott answers him:

      “Our home planet was destroyed shortly after my birth. There are few of us left, and Brossel is right, there might not be any females left.”

      “Besides,” Brossel adds, “fights between dominants are usually over submissive males more than females, anyway.” Several people glance at me, kneeling at Kakarott’s side. Well, let them.

      “Thank you, Brossel,” the judge says. “Take a seat.” The old monk steps out of the witness box. On the other side of the courtroom, Chichi and her attorney have a brief whispered conference. Then Payne turns around and says,

       ‘The plaintiffs call Vegeta to the stand.”

***

Dun Dun Dun!

I think I have about four different series sharing this courtroom.

Next chapter: this case gets personal. Vegeta on the witness stand.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much