Native Son | By : chibivegeta Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4347 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Pairing:
Vegeta/Goku
Disclaimer:
yeah sure, I own everything...I am secretly Bill Gates with a serious mental
handicap... Mr. Self Destruct music and lyrics
property of Trent Reznor
Warnings: Nothing this chapter except maybe a little lime...plenty more
later...
Archive:
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For
Kakarrot...always...
Thoughts in italics, bordered by tilde (~)
Native Son
Chapter 2
I am the
bullet in the
gun
(and I control you)
I am the
truth from which you run (and I control you)
I am the
silencing
machine (and
I control you)
I am the
end of all your dreams (and I control you)
I take you
where you want to go
I give you
all you need to know
I drag you
down I use you up
Mr. self
destruct
Driving music
pounded from the circular walls of the gravity room, reflected back onto the
lone figure flexing and moving through a complex and equally driven kata.
Clad only in skin-hugging spandex shorts and tennis shoes, Vegeta no Ouji,
prince of saiya-jins, pushed himself to his limits. Sweat traced curves
of muscle as he twisted and flipped, the air around him hummed with the thunder
of music and his own ki.
As the song
changed to one slightly less frenetic, Vegeta allowed his movements to slow
along with it. It was his third workout of the day, set between lunch and
his afternoon meal. He usually planned a fourth and sometimes fifth
routine most days; today would not be one of them.
His palms
slapped the floor as he pressed up into a handstand, the muscles of his arms
bunching and relaxing as he did a series of inverted pushups. His breath
huffed in and out rhythmically as he concentrated, lifting to one hand, his
feet parted for balance as he continued the pushups. The settings on the
control panel glowed steadily at 350g. There was a buzz from the comlink.
“Vegeta.”
Droplets of
sweat pattered down to darken the floor as he switched hands, repeating the
count to one hundred in his mind before lifting onto a single finger and
continuing. The buzz sounded again.
“Vegeta!”
A low growl
was the only sign that the prince even heard his name. He changed sides
and continued his one-fingered pushups, eyes fixed on nothing as he
concentrated. This time the buzz sounded longer, harsher against the
backdrop of music.
“VEGETA!!”
With a snarl
he dropped to his feet and straightened, hands curling into fists.
“Dammit woman
what is it? I told you I am not having sex with you now, I
don’t care how fertile you think you are! I am busy!!”
“RRR!
You can be such a jerk, Vegeta!”
The prince
smirked to himself and took up a bottle of water, drinking thirstily after the
hours-long workout. His stomach snarled.
“Do you have
my meal ready, woman?” He glowered in the general direction of the
speaker.
“Oooh!!
No I do not, Mr. high-and-mighty! If you paid any attention at all
you would have seen the call button flashing for the last ten minutes!”
Vegeta snorted
and rubbed at his bare chest with a towel. “What do I care? Who
else besides you would be foolish enough to interrupt me?”
He could
almost hear the woman’s teeth grinding together as her frustration grew.
He bit back a short bark of laughter; she wasn’t the only one who could be
annoying. He did hear the small huff of capitulation as she gave up
trying to reason with him.
“It’s
Gohan. He says something has happened to Goku and that they need you to
come right away.” There was no doubting the worry in her voice now.
“Kakarrot?
What the hell could have happened to him?” He scowled, only steely
will kept his own voice from betraying worry.
“I don’t
know. Gohan said Piccolo and Krillin are there, but that they need
you.” Bulma muttered under her breath. “Though why, I’ll never
know.”
Vegeta’s eyes
narrowed, his sensitive hearing picking up the murmured imprecation despite the
still-pounding music. He took a moment to consider what could possibly
pose a threat to the earth-raised saiya-jin.
“Vegeta!!”
He growled as
the shrill voice disrupted his concentration again. “I heard you the
first time, woman!”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going
to go see about Goku?”
He
sighed. She would hound him until he did it, though he had to admit both
his curiosity and instinctive protectiveness toward the last of his subjects
was piqued. It gave him a good excuse to go without looking like he
cared. His lips slanted into a smirk as he headed toward the lockers.
“All right,
all right, I’ll go. I suppose it’s the only way to get a decent meal
around here.”
Bulma’s sigh
of relief was felt more than heard as the comlink went silent. Shaking
his head, Vegeta changed into a full bodysuit, tugging a chest-plate over his
upward swept spikes of hair. If something had harmed Kakarrot, it may
well provide a slight challenge to his prince.
~ What has
that baka gotten himself into now? ~
He snorted and
pushed the door to the gravity room open, pausing at the top of the ramp.
Extending his own ki, he searched for his rival’s. For long moments there
was nothing, and nothing, and nothing. His brows drew down as he concentrated.
They’d said something had happened to him, but what?
He could find
Gohan and the Namek’s ki signatures without difficulty, and yes, there was the
short human. But he could feel nothing that identified the one they all
insisted on calling Goku.
“Hn…”
With a growl
he shot into the sky, ki flaring around him in a blue coma as he made his way
quickly toward the others.
****
Once Chi-chi
had awakened and Gohan had explained as best he could, he and Piccolo had
returned to keep watch with Krillin, leaving Juuhachigou to brave the incessant
chatter of the Ox King’s daughter.
“And then I
said to him, ‘Why don’t we go get married?’” Chi-chi laughed and wrung
her hands. “My poor, poor Goku!”
“Yes, I pity
him too.” Juuhachigou’s voice was low and neutral as always, she supposed
it was a good thing that she didn’t really need sleep. Certainly the
conversation would have inspired it by now.
“What?
What do you mean?” Sharp black eyes assessed the slender and eternally
young cyborg with a hint of jealousy.
Juuhachigou
blinked, remembering something Krillin had tried to explain to her about being
polite. “Oh, I meant that it’s a pity he was hurt. Or whatever.”
“Oh…” Chi-chi
nodded and began wringing her hands again. “Yes, my poor dear Goku…”
As she started
in again on her ongoing dialogue (or was that diatribe?) about her husband,
Juuhachigou tuned the woman out and wished she were anyplace but there.
The android’s eyes slid to the window and the setting of the sun, wondering
what was happening back at the clearing.
****
Krillin and
Gohan danced across the grass, sweating freely as they sparred to pass the
time. They’d called Vegeta a little less than an hour previously but were
still waiting. As Krillin cupped his hands and summoned a ki blast,
Piccolo growled from where he meditated overhead.
“That’s
enough! Are you trying to provoke him?”
The two looked
up sheepishly, the glow vanishing from the monk’s cupped hands.
“Sorry,
Piccolo, I didn’t think about that.”
“Yeah, well
you’re going to have to settle down. Son’s unpredictable right now,
anything could set him off.”
“Sorry,
Piccolo.” Gohan sighed and hunched his shoulders, dropping to sit
cross-legged on the ground. “When’s Vegeta going to get here?”
Piccolo
grumbled and drifted down to stand nearby. “Knowing Vegeta, he probably
took a little convincing. We don’t even know if he’ll show up.”
“Gah, we can’t
wait forever! It’ll be getting dark soon, too.” Gohan sighed, eyes
scanning the horizon to the west. “Where is he?”
“Where is
who?”
Three sets of
eyes moved to the source of the voice. Vegeta stood atop a tumbled stone
to one side of the small clearing, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his
glove, his lips quirked up into an amused expression.
“I’m not used
to being summoned by such a…motley…group as yourselves. Imagine, the
‘Z-senshi’ needing my help.” He snickered. “Perhaps someone would care to
inform me why.”
The prince
folded his arms and pinned them with a sharp obsidian gaze.
“Dad…he’s-“
“It’s
Goku! Something whacked happened-“
“SHUT UP!”
The namekian
growled, cutting off the noise. He glowered back at Vegeta, folding his
arms into a similar posture.
“First of all,
cut the insults, Vegeta. We’d hardly interrupt your precious training
time if we had another option.” Piccolo smirked at the narrowing of the
prince’s gaze. “Something has happened to Goku. We’re not sure
what, but he has his tail back and he’s not himself.”
Vegeta grunted
and stalked over to them. “Tail, you said? He got his tail back?”
He felt a pang of jealousy; he missed his own tail far more than he’d allowed
any of these idiots to know, and of course it was Kakarrot who managed to get
his back first.
“Yeah, but
he’s acting strange. He didn’t recognize any of us, not even Gohan.
He was hunched over a deer or something, eating it raw. Then he dragged
it back into the woods there.” Piccolo nodded in the direction Goku had
vanished. “We all tried to get close, but he attacked each of us.”
The saiya-jin
prince chuckled at the thought. “So what are you saying, Namek?”
Piccolo
growled. “I’m saying that he may be hurt, that we don’t know what’s going
on with him.” The namekian sighed internally at having to admit his own
helplessness. “And you’re the only one likely to be able to get close
enough to find out.”
Vegeta
smirked, his chin dropping before he flashed a vicious little smile. “And
you really think I’ll ‘save’ him for you? This could be my opportunity to
dominate your pathetic little planet. Why would you trust me?”
The imposing
namekian studied Vegeta for a moment; the prince shifted slightly under the
piercing gaze. Piccolo’s voice was low and almost bland.
“I don’t trust
you, but I know Goku would...”
Vegeta barely
caught the surprised expression before it could cross his face, his eyes only
narrowing as his chin dropped.
“Where is he?”
Piccolo
pointed one sharp-nailed finger toward a break in the trees.
“He’s in
there, back a little ways. He’s probably finished the deer off by now
though, so he might have moved. But we can still sense him.”
The prince
stared at the spot the namekian had pointed out, extending his senses broadly
before picking up on the familiar ki signature of his rival. Familiar yet
not; he had changed, there was something wilder and…more saiya-jin…about the
feel of him. Vegeta nodded to the tall green warrior.
“All right,
I’ll take care of this. What do you expect me to do once I’ve found him?”
“Give him
this.” Piccolo pressed a sensu bean into the prince’s hand. “We’re
fairly sure he’s hurt, that might be what’s wrong with him. I’ve seen
others react badly to severe pain.”
Vegeta snorted
derisively. “Saiya-jin are not subject to pain the same way these ningen
are.”
The namekian
remained silent, knowing better than to argue with the prince’s evaluation of
his people; the pride he carried for them was even greater than his pride in
himself.
The prince
tucked the small green seed into one glove and stalked toward the break in the
trees. He vanished into the shadows without a single glance back.
Piccolo silently hoped that his longtime friend would be ok, but he savored the
thought of the prince with a rabid Goku on his arrogant hands.
****
Though he did
not show it, Vegeta found himself nervous as he passed into the leafy
shade. He didn’t know what exactly had happened to the other saiya-jin,
and only had the word of the others as to how he was behaving.
To the prince,
it all sounded perfectly reasonable. He never had understood this
penchant these chikkyu-jins had for cooking their meat. Of course it was
better when hot, which was why it was always better eaten fresh before the
flesh had the chance to cool.
He mentally
shrugged and silently followed what was, to him, an obvious trail of broken
branches and scattered leaves as well as smears of blood and scent. He
could smell the other saiya-jin now, his scent at least was unchanged, still
that slightly spicy saiya-jin smell combined with an indefinable perfume of the
outdoors.
Feet making
almost no sound on the leaf mould beneath the trees, Vegeta kept his ears tuned
for the slightest sound. His nose nearly twitched for a fresher
scent. He felt it when his rival’s gaze fell on him, followed seconds
later by the thud of his feet as he dropped to the forest floor only a few feet
away from the prince.
Dark eyes
narrowed on at the slender ouji, and there was a soft guttural growl
accompanying the flash of sharp canine teeth. Vegeta refused to flinch;
it took all his strength of will to stop himself from stepping back in
surprise. Fists coming up he growled back.
“What the hell
is wrong with you, Kakarrot?”
The prince
took a step forward, noting the slight perking of the other’s features and a
sudden change in posture. His chin dropped as he drew nearer, his fascination
with his rival’s behavior not quite distracting him from the scent of pain and
scorched flesh. Sharp eyes took in the slightly bedraggled appearance,
his ears registered the fact that the low growl had faded. In fact,
Kakarrot had ceased to threaten altogether.
He frowned and
stepped closer, noting that the other was crouching and rocking slightly.
The scent of pain increased and Vegeta saw the awkward angle of the thick,
gleaming tail as it curled behind the other saiya-jin. Pausing, the
prince felt a rush of something unfamiliar: protectiveness,
concern…sympathy? He shook his head in confusion.
Why should he
feel sympathy for this baka third-class? He admitted, privately of
course, to feeling a certain possessiveness. The other saiya-jin was his.
His to command, his to step on, his to out-do. Though he’d actually done
none of these things, it was Vegeta’s right as his prince. Now the baka
had gone and actually injured himself somehow, or something else had. The
ouji’s eyes darted around the darkening woods, wondering what danger could be
imposing itself even now.
There was a
low sound; a verbal wince of pain from his last subject, a sound Vegeta had
once anticipated hearing. Now, though, it sounded wrong; utterly and
completely wrong. An unexpected pang struck the ouji’s gut, his gaze
softening as he crouched down and gazed at the other with unease. His
voice surprised him with the softening of tone.
“What have you
done to yourself, hmn? Show me, Kakarrot.”
Hurt-glazed
black eyes turned up to the prince’s, and with a growl of pain the brawny
saiya-jin shifted and turned. Vegeta’s eyes widened at the long and
twisted burn crossing the other’s back from one shoulder blade down to the
opposite hip, skipping the crease between buttock and thigh to lance most of
the way down the muscled leg. Clothing was torn and partially melted into
the ugly blackened gashes.
“Kami…”
Vegeta gulped
a breath even as he extended his hand, drawing back just short of touching the
wounds. He scowled and traced light fingertips alongside the tears in his
rival’s flesh, drawing back finally at the low keen of pain. He sat back
on his haunches and studied the other with a sharp gaze. Ebony eyes met
his steadily, evaluating him in much the same manner.
The first
thing Vegeta thought was that these were no wounds from an enemy. They
were painful but not disabling, and there would have been some other evidence
of a fight. On his flight to the clearing he had appraised the
surrounding landscape and had seen nothing indicating an adversary.
Secondly, if
there had been some threat the first thing they’d all have felt was the upsurge
in Kakarrot’s ki, signaling them all as he powered up to meet it. There
had been no such flare of power. Vegeta frowned; he suspected that if,
indeed, there had been some threat, they’d have found Kakarrot in perfect
health standing over a smoking hole in the ground. So what had
happened? Obviously he didn’t have enough information to figure that out
just yet, but he was not giving up so easily.
Lastly, there
was the odd change in the other’s ki. And in his attitude. He’d
attacked his supposed friends, yet had responded positively to Vegeta’s use of
his saiya-jin name and his refusal to back down. In fact, he’d become
almost relaxed and was completely unthreatening now. Other than a
somewhat defensive reaction to the bursts of pain the ouji was sure must be
slicing through him with every movement, he was almost submissive. At
least, toward Vegeta.
“Come,
Kakarrot.” The prince tugged off his glove and spilled the small green
seed the namekian had given him into his palm and extended it to the
other. “Eat it.”
Coal black
eyes burning with pain flicked from Vegeta’s palm to his eyes, suspicion and
something else lighting the depths. The prince’s voice dropped to a
soothing note.
“It’s all
right, Kakarrot, it will make you feel better.”
He moved
closer, his nose again twitching with the other’s scent. There was
something indefinably different, just as with his ki. It disturbed the
prince that he couldn’t seem to identify it. He gazed into dark eyes that
were fixed on him. What he saw was unsettling in that it was intense;
unfamiliar, yet burning. He cleared his throat and lifted the seed on his
palm close to the other’s mouth.
“Go on, eat
it…”
The muscled
form rocked back and forth slightly, jagged spikes of hair shifting as the
other refused. Vegeta scowled then blinked in surprise as a surprisingly
soft cheek was pressed against his ungloved hand.
“Hn…so that’s
it hmn?” Without thinking, he spilled the sensu from gloved hand to bare,
and again offered it out.
Deep sable
pools fixed on him as the other’s head bent. Vegeta felt his skin tighten
as a warm wet tongue slowly lapped the small seed from his palm. The hair
on the nape of his neck lifted and he broke into a light sweat. It
suddenly occurred to him what it was he was seeing in Kakarrot’s eyes.
The namekian was right, it was…
Trust.
Vegeta stared
as the other crunched slowly at the sensu, struck with the knowledge that he’d
never experienced this from anyone else, but also knowing that it had been
there all along. Kakarrot had always trusted him. He shook himself,
noticing the near silence of the woods around them, the deepening night.
~ No time for
this nonsense now, things need doing… ~
“Come on,
Kakarrot. You should be all better now, and I’m sure your baka friends
are waiting with bated breath.”
The ouji
smirked to himself, shaking his head and pushing up from the ground to turn and
stalk back to the clearing, fully expecting the other to follow him. He
stopped when he heard no footfall behind him. Glancing back over his
shoulder he snorted impatiently.
“Well?
What’s keeping you?”
He blinked as
he realized the flattened area of the path was empty. There was no sign
of the other saiya-jin anywhere. Brows knit into a scowl, dark eyes
flicked around the underbrush and into the branches above. No sign of his
rival anywhere. He growled impatiently.
“What game are
you playing, baka?”
No answer was
forthcoming from the quiet night, and only the sound of small rodents and other
woodland denizens sounded in his sensitive ears. Vegeta extended his ki
in search of the other and blinked in surprise as a slight resonance against it
brought his attention to the branches directly overhead.
Gazing up, he
could just make out the slight shift of the form in the gathering gloom as
night began to settle around them. With a scowl he called up.
“Kakarrot!
Come down here!”
He was
surprised as the command was immediately obeyed; the brawny form nearly silent
as it landed in a crouch before him. Vegeta frowned and looked at the
other sharply. He didn’t seem too thrilled to be heading back to his
home. Indeed he seemed more at home within the trees than he did anywhere
else the prince had ever seen him.
He frowned and
weighed the other’s actions briefly. Eyes narrowing on the seemingly
compliant saiya-jin he turned on his heel once again and headed out of the
trees.
“Follow me,
Kakarrot.”
****
Pacing and
fidgeting, Gohan kept glancing worriedly at the break in the trees where the
prince had disappeared a half hour earlier. Krillin sat cross-legged on a
small boulder and picked at the weeds growing around it. Piccolo merely
floated a few feet off the ground, arms crossed and eyes closed in apparent
inward contemplation. The half-saiya-jin sighed, worry increasing with
the encroaching darkness.
“What’s taking
so long!?”
Piccolo
grunted. “Staring won’t make them appear, Gohan.”
Quite frankly,
Piccolo himself was somewhat disturbed by the actual lack of disturbance.
There had been no sound from the woods, not even the sound of fist on flesh
that his peaked namekian ears could detect. He wondered idly if Goku had
simply killed the prince outright and if they were standing around waiting for
nothing.
Everyone
blinked in surprise as Vegeta appeared, looking at first like an apparition of
boots and gloves against the darkness of the trees. The namekian’s sharp
gaze flicked over the prince, unable to make out any injury thus far.
Vegeta paused,
turning to murmur something to the form behind him before stepping fully into
the clearing. Three sets of eyes locked onto him as he stopped and folded
his arms, a small smirk gracing his lips. Gohan was the first to break
the silence.
“Dad!!”
He ran
forward, the inimitable Son family grin plastered to his face, only to be
brought up short by Vegeta’s extended hand and sharp command.
“Don’t!”
Stumbling to a
halt, Gohan blinked from the prince to the shadowed figure lurking behind him
just inside the tree line. Vegeta stepped forward, pressing the half
saiya-jin back toward his companions. The younger Son protested,
struggling against the grip the prince had on his elbow.
“What are you
doing!? Dad!”
Piccolo
watched silently, his lip curling to show one sharp fang as Vegeta manhandled
Gohan back toward their small group. He shoved Gohan forward and growled
softly at them.
“He doesn’t
want to go home with you…”
A small uproar
ensued as protests rang out from all sides. Vegeta stepped back and
folded his arms, gritting his teeth and waiting for the din to die down.
When it went on for more than a moment he fisted his hands and shouted them
down.
“ENOUGH!!”
Ears
rang. Smirking to himself, Vegeta continued in a more sedate tone.
“You were
right, Namek, and wrong. Kakarrot seems to be doing just fine.
However…”
Confused
stares met his words, and before a babble of questioning could begin the prince
held up his hand.
“He was
injured, a nasty burn and slash along his back. The sensu took care of
that, but he is still not back to ‘normal’. I’m not sure exactly what has
happened but for right now none of you should approach him.”
Krillin
glowered and balled his fists. “What are you talking about, Vegeta?
If he’s been healed then what have you done to him!?”
The prince’s
eyes narrowed; he was sick of all this suspicion. “I haven’t done
anything to him, baldy. But I might do something to you…”
Worried about
his friend, and frustrated with his lack of answers, Krillin took a step
forward, dropping into a fighting stance. “Bring it on, jerk!”
Before the
prince could vaporize the diminutive ningen, there was a deep snarl and flurry
of movement from the trees. Kakarrot landed between them in a deep
crouch, ki flaring to life in his palm.
Krillin
stumbled back in shock, Gohan catching him before he could stumble over his own
feet. All three of them stared at the primal visage of their friend’s
face and the protective crouch he held in front of the prince. Vegeta
graced them with a moment of astonishment before stepping forward and sliding
gloved fingers into the wild saiya-jin’s tumbled spikes of hair, leaning down
and speaking softly into his ear.
The effect on
the muscular form was salutary. The ki ball forming in his hand
immediately died out. Crouched low near the prince’s knees, he growled
and watched the small group suspiciously, thick black tail lashing. The
prince’s low laugh sounded eerily flat as the night swallowed up sound.
“As I said, he
doesn’t want to go home with you.”
He waited for
a challenge from one of them, eyeing the various expressions of horror and
surprise. When, after a long moment, they simply stared at him in
silence, he snapped out his orders.
“You…”
He growled, pointing at Gohan. “Go back to Capsule Corp. Tell Bulma
that I need my number seven training capsule. And plenty of food.”
Black eyes
flashed to Krillin. “You may as well go tell that harridan he married
that he won’t be coming home anytime soon.”
“Namek.”
Vegeta’s lips quirked. “Find that spud who plays at guardian and see what
he can figure out.”
Turning and
stalking to the boulder he’d originally appeared on, the prince folded his arms
and settled himself to wait. Silence reigned as the other three watched
as their longtime friend and father padded behind him and crouched near
Vegeta’s feet.
“What
the-! Are we just going to take orders from him?” Krillin was
easy-going enough that he usually ignored the ouji’s imperious manner, but this
was about his best friend, Goku.
Piccolo gazed
dispassionately at the scene for a time before gritting his teeth and
nodding. “I hate to say it, but he’s right. There’s something wrong
with Goku, and he doesn’t seem to be responding positively to anyone but
Vegeta. He could be dangerous.”
“But…but it’s
Dad…” Gohan’s worried frown met the tall namekian’s. “What if
he…well, what if he did something to him?”
The imposing
warrior shook his head. “I don’t think he did, Gohan. I think the
only thing we can do now is listen to Vegeta. And hope for the best.”
Krillin and
Gohan nodded to him before each burst into the air to follow out the dubious
orders of the saiya-jin prince. Piccolo remained another moment,
exchanging a hard stare with Vegeta before leaving for Dende’s Lookout.
Ebon eyes
watched suspiciously as the three departed, then came to rest expectantly upon
the ouji’s slender form. Vegeta’s lips quirked into an almost-smile.
“We’ll figure
this thing out, Kakarrot. I promise.”
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