Adult-FanFiction.org : Gundam, Beyblade, DBZ, FMA

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
- 14
- 15
- 16
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.

Animeslave18: Mwahaha, cliffhanger! Banging resumes soon.

Ashray: sorry, no lawyer frying ^^ as for Trunks and all … I have plans.

Zofo: Glad to have you back! How do I do it? I have a dirty mind. You’re not bad, just kinky ^^

It’s finally happened: real life made me miss last week’s update of my other story. The streak was bound to break sometime. Anyway, I will do my best to keep this story going as long as I have material for it.

In this chapter: more courtroom antics. Mentions of domestic abuse.

***

Chapter 15: Best Served Cold

***

      I step into the wood-railed witness box, my tail held close against my ankles. Kakarott warned me this might happen, but it does not make the thought any more appealing. I kick the chair aside and stand in the appointed place with my arms crossed over my chest. I feel cold; a familiar feeling, of preparing to face foes, of the solitude of battle. A single spot of warmth tingles on my cheek, where Kakarott’s hand gave me one final caress as I rose. I glare at the air between us as if it is to blame for our separation.

      The plaintiff’s attorney, Payne or whatever his name is, approaches to what he thinks is a safe distance. He seems afraid that I’m about to jump over the rail and disembowel him, which shows that he has some sense, at least.

      “Mr. Vegeta, are you sexually involved with Mr. Son?”

      But not very much. “Yes,” I reply. The And it’s none of your business part seems self-evident. “Also, don’t call me mister.”

      Like a small annoying dog, he is undaunted. “And how long have you been in this relationship?”

      “Since shortly after his return to Earth.” I can see where he’s going with this. My tail curls tighter, starting to coil around my waist; the fur prickles through my body suit..

      “But you knew each other prior to his absence, did you not.”

      “Yes. I intended to kill him.” That calm statement takes him by surprise, and he flounders for his next question.

      “But then, how did you end up, uh, intimately involved?”

      “The events leading to his absence led me to change my opinion of his character.” A dry description of that half-crazed rage, confusion at being left alive, joyous laugh that haunted my dreams, the grudging alliance, the battle against Frieza and despair and death and revival and the blazing terror/lust of his first transformation. Kill or be conquered. Before I knew what lay on the other side of the leap …

      “Do you consider yourself a fair judge of character?”

      Now what? “Passable,” I reply.

       The lawyer’s ki spikes as if he is about to attack; I instinctively settle my weight, but of course the strike is verbal, not physical. “Mr. Vegeta, were you abused as a child?”

      My teeth clench, hard. First, that is very much not anyone’s business. Second, again with the mister. And third, I am simply disgusted, even nauseated, by this line of questioning. I do not want to have to deal with this right now.

      The orange of Kakarott’s suit catches my eye. Harem-mate, family – he is here with me, not five meters away, dark eyes watching me. What if … He is so better at these word games than I am. What if I can … I glance at him, inquiring; he smiles in return, and the coldness around me evaporates. He sits forward in his chair.

      “Your honor,” he addresses the judge directly, “Vegeta was never directly abused, as far as I know, but he was in a negative environment and prefers not to discuss it. Besides, I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

      The judge gives me an appraising look. “Yes, I quite see. Vegeta, you may step down.”

      Relief. Fight won – survived, alive – mate – master – battle-ally? Ignoring dignity, I vault the rail and shoot back to my seat at Kakarott’s side. I almost knock him off the chair, except that he plants a foot to brace himself. His hand cups the back of my neck, caressing the back of my ear and the edges of my scalp; tension drains from me so fast that it’s dizzying.

      “Thank you,” he murmurs in Saiyan.

      “First time,” I whisper back. I know how to demand, I will take if something is offered, but on Frieza’s ships one does not – did not – ask. Especially not one’s superiors. I can ask. It’s a startling concept.

      Meanwhile, the judge is asking the annoying attorney what he was trying to accomplish with that question.

      “It is a well-known fact that people who have been abused often end up in abusive relationships again.” I idly snarl at him; Kakarott has found a spot between my neck bones and is scratching it just so.

      The judge snorts. “In my years in this court I have seen hundreds of victims of abuse, both human and animal. This man,” he nods at me, slowly turning into a wet noodle under Kakarott’s hand even though we’re in public, “is clearly not being abused.” He turns to look at Gohan, who has been watching the proceeding s with fascination. “Young man, have you ever felt afraid of your father?”

      “Nah, Dad’s nice. He never yells or smashes things, even when Mom gets out her frying pan – ” he cuts himself off abruptly, with a guilty look I expect is fake.

      “Frying pan?” The judge asks Chichi. Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. The judge turns to us. “Mr. Son?”

      “Oh, yeah,” Kakarott says, “She used to smack me with this nice cast-iron skillet. Great for frying eggs. Anyway, I’m tough enough that it barely stung, so I didn’t think much of it. Like I said before, peabrain.” He twists his finger against his temple. “So far as I know, she never used it on Gohan.”

       With such blows are wars of rhetoric won. The judge glares at the plaintiff’s table as if to say, you didn’t think that was worth mentioning? Our various acquaintances look disturbed, Kakarott’s words conjuring the very image he denied. The harpy screeches, “But you and your martial arts! It’s violent! It’s dangerous!”

       “Self control is a huge part of my training, Chichi,” Kakarott replies.

       “I think he’s really lost his temper, like, once,” Krillin puts in from the audience seats.

       “You can’t – you don’t even have a place for him to stay!” She knows she’s losing; her shrill tone makes everyone with Saiyan blood wince. The judge bangs his gavel and calls for order.

       “Mr. Son, do you have adequate living space for your son?”

       “Yes, your honor – that is, I will when those roofing tiles arrive,” Kakarott notes scrupulously. Gohan yells,

       “Dad, you built a house for me?”

       “Yeah. just a little one.”

       I stop paying attention after that. We’ve made our case, and the harpy looks like a fool. The judge asks several more questions to each side to clarify details, then calls for closing arguments. I’m dozing, despite the many people around me, secure that Kakarott is keeping watch, that he will buy me the few moments to come to full readiness.

      After a brief deliberation, the judge reads out his verdict. “In the case of Son Chichi versus Son Goku, this court finds in favor of the defendant …” I stop listening again, because Kakarott’s tail wraps around my ribs and he starts purring. Finally,

      “All rise,” calls the bailiff, and the judge exits. Gohan runs over to hug his father. Chichi storms off in a huff, her attorney trailing after her. Our group takes a little longer to pack up and leave the courtroom.

      “That went just as well as we wanted,” Ms. Shinkicker says. “Kid, you couldn’t have said that better if I handed you a script.”

      “Bulma,” Kakarott says, “Would you mind letting Gohan stay at your place tonight?”

      “Sure, no problem. I can take him to get his things, too.” Bulma pulls out a handheld computer and makes a few notes. “I still think it’s a bit weird to see you virtually playing god with Vegeta’s life, though.”

      I smirk. “There’s no virtually about it, woman.”

      “And it’s not playing,” Kakarott adds. I look up at him curiously. “Someone has to look out for the Saiyan people,” he says.

      “Did you hear that, sir?” Cratchet asks his senior partner. “Maybe we can advertise as Accountants to the Divine.”

      “Humbug,” says the old man. “What’s next, ghosts?”

***

That lame joke has been in the wings since chapter 6.

Two weeks’ time is Halloween; I’m going to take a break to do a Halloween Special.

In the next chapter: rope. rope. rope. rope. rope. rope. rope. rope. rope. rope. rope.
- 14
- 15
- 16
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much