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Nowhere: 1
By : FelixMcKadden
Category: Missing Data > Missing Data
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Nowhere: twnty-one
The reemergence was a quiet one due to the gravity of the situation. Excitement was there, as well as curiosity, but a solemn mood overcast it all. There were many questions lurking, waiting impassively at the sidelines. The initial happiness was jaded as Vegeta immediately began to lurch and shiver.
“Follow me,” Bulma commanded. Goku followed obediently, transporting the smaller man into an examination room. The trembling seemed to intensify when he was placed upon the bed, his breath ragged yet no longer shallow. The engineer played nurse often enough that she knew what supplies to gather.

“Is he sick?” Goku asked aloud, mostly to himself.

The brunet tossed onto his side, curling into an almost fetal position before abandoning it in favor of rolling again. Goku caught him before his whole body slid off the bed, his top half dangling over the tiled floor. There was a pained groan, a spark of awareness, and then Vegeta heaved - emptying his stomach. Water, muck, and bile spewed forth, some of it landing on Goku’s clothing causing him to cringe.

He looked at Bulma with pleading eyes.

“Yeah,” she sarcastically bit out, “It looks like that’s a possibility.” The prince's form was still shaking as remnants dripped from his parted lips. She bypassed her friend and went to the cabinet for a different set of items. In the meantime, since he found no pity from the heiress, Goku placed Vegeta into what he thought would be a more comfortable position. A plastic container was tossed to him and the woman explained, “In case he throws up again.” He was grateful when some cleaning bots came in a moment later to take care of the floor. It was a shame nothing could be done about his clothes for the time being.

A faint clattering indicated that Vegeta’s body was too cold. He was about to place a blanket over him when his friend chided him.

“He’s soaked. You need to strip him first,” she said with an edge of exasperation, “Come on, Goku, you know better.”

He did, and was embarrassed that he let himself be caught off guard. However, it was just implicit to him to not touch the prince without his permission. While his other friends never minded, Vegeta made it perfectly clear that he desired no assistance or signs of affection, no matter how innocuous they may seem. Fighting was one thing. Retrieving him from a potentially life-threatening situation was also one thing. Taking care of the aftermath was another, and it was not Goku’s forte. In short, it simply hadn’t occurred to the taller Saiyan to breach that boundary without consultation. Yet, as he looked at the unusually pale pallor of the other man, he figured if it wasn’t him, then Bulma would find someone else and he was the lesser of two evils in the eyes of royalty.

Before he could further make a fool of himself, the scientist passed him a pair of trauma shears, “Don’t have any qualms. He has plenty of clothes.” That was pretty much the opposite sentiment that Chi-Chi would have endorsed, so he was glad Bulma nipped that notion in the bud. He grabbed the saturated hem and began cutting, and was a little surprised at how it glided effortlessly through the fabric. It took all of two seconds to make it across the shirt. “Oh, wow,” Goku said, impressed.

“That’s what they’re built for,” the lady chimed in, showing him where to cut the sleeves away. He kept going, deferring to any instructions she gave. In fact, he only hesitated when it came to his underwear. He figured Vegeta would be really angry if he went that far, but his oldest friend pressed him. “It’s not like it’s anything we haven’t seen before,” she said, all business. Goku followed through and they both took a minute to clear away the now useless scraps of cloth.

He tried not to look, but his eyes betrayed him as he laid the blanket over the shivering brunet. Goku couldn’t help it as he was just naturally curious to a fault, and the amount of scarring on the prince’s torso intrigued him. Goku had been hurt many times in his history, but he was virtually unblemished. He wondered if Saiyans scarred differently from humans.

“I got it from here,” Bulma announced, starting the diagnostic process, “Mom and dad can help you if you want to clean up before heading home.”

He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to know what was powerful enough to incapacitate the other warrior. He also figured that if he went back the way he was his wife would complain, so he accepted the invitation, “Thanks.”

The black-haired man did his best to navigate the compound by sense of chi alone. He could have used his Instant Transmission technique, but he was honestly a bit tired from the length of the rescue mission. Plus, people tended to not appreciate his spontaneous appearance. It didn’t take that much longer to locate one of Bulma’s parents anyway. Her mother was puttering around in the kitchen when he greeted her, “Hey, Mrs Briefs.”

“Oh, hello, Goku!” she chirped happily in response, “What brings you here today?”

“I was helpin’ Bulma out,” he explained, mouth starting to water at the smell of food wafting in the air. He might have bypassed his true purpose in finding her and asked for a meal if the air wasn’t tainted by the stench of vomit.

“That’s nice of you, dear,” she said with smile while he scratched the back of his head quickly.

“Well,” he decided to explain the situation before she went to a different topic, “Vegeta got sick on me and Bulma said you could help me out. Would that be okay?”

“Sure thing, darling,” the blonde cooed, “Come with me and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

With how much he was traversing the building he felt like he was going to learn the layout soon. They entered what appeared to be a laundry room with the addition of a shower set in the wall. With the placement of a box of miscellaneous, grime-covered tools on a bench it seemed to be a type of all-in-one cleaning station from coming out of the labs. Bulma’s mom prepared the machine for him and proclaimed, “Just put your clothes in and close the lid and it’ll do the rest. Why don’t you take a shower in the meantime?”

Goku began to strip as he had no explicit sense of modesty, “That sounds like a good idea. Thanks.”

She interrupted his undressing to gently pat him on the cheek, “Don’t be a stranger, sweetie.”

He did as he was told, tossing his entire outfit in because that option was available to him. Besides, the less work Chi-Chi had to do the better. There was a timer to indicate when the laundry would be done, but he wasn’t sure if he could stand being in the shower for about a half hour. He tried to take it slow, scrubbing everywhere including under his nails. The hot water was a relaxing comfort, but he was still a bit keyed up because his mind kept drifting back to Vegeta. For his condition to be that poor, it had to be something serious.

He got out of the shower and began to towel down, then noticed his clothes still had about twenty minutes left. He wasn’t sure if that meant he was more or less distracted than usual. Regardless, with time to kill he decided to see if he could mooch a snack off the Briefs family. Goku wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way back to the kitchen.

“Back so soon?” Panchy looked up from her tea as she sat at the table. She made no effort to conceal her appreciative eyes.

Goku’s grin edged on bashful, “Uh… well, I was hopin’ to, well, if it was okay, I mean, I was wondering if maybe you had something extra to eat?”

She laughed quietly and ushered him into a seat, “Sure, hon. Stay there, and I’ll get you something.”

His grin became decidedly more ecstatic.

***

Vegeta was warm - comfortable even. It was the antithesis of his last, most recent memory. Maybe that’s why it took him so long to open his eyes. There was the expectation of off-white walls, threadbare covers, and tattered carpet. Instead, the place was unfamiliar. He sat up and was suddenly aware of how sore and weary he was. And nude. At least the room itself was nonthreatening.

Bulma, having been alerted of a change of status thanks to her machinery, entered the room to investigate. She decided to lay into him like she did when he blew up the Capsule 3, “I’d question if you were either stupid or crazy, but I’m beginning to suspect it’s a bit of both. You’re lucky you only have mild hypothermia.”

He didn’t reply.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” she prodded. When he only stared intensely she was certain he was giving her the silent treatment, “Fine. You could say ‘thank you’ though. Not that I expect it, but it sure would be nice.”

The brunet chose to look around at his surroundings again until she stepped forward. He clutched the covers a bit closer and tighter to his frame, covering his chest.

There was no way for her to not notice the recoil. Bulma found the behaviour cute, amusing, and annoying, “Honestly, it boggles my mind how you can be such a prude.” She walked past to the bedside table and picked up a thermos, “Here, drink this. It’ll help.”

The prince reluctantly took it from her grasp, opening the lid and sniffing suspiciously. It smelled mostly of water and meat. Taking a sip, he determined it to be a broth, and it was pleasantly hot. He had wondered if it had been poisoned, but he figured that was much more effort than disposing of him while he was unconscious.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to make a good conversation partner, Bulma heaved a sigh, pulled up a chair, and watched. Vegeta, to his credit, drank steadily and only glanced up once in awhile to meet her impassive expression. When he finished, he passed the container back to her and decided to inquire directly, “Where’s Kakarot?”

Of course that’s what he’d be worried about. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “Probably home by now.”

“I want to speak with him,” he retorted.

She refused to be dismissed so easily, “If you want to talk you can start by explaining what happened to my tech. You caused fail-safes to fail.”

The prince narrowed his eyes, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Bulma seethed, hating how their stubborn natures clashed at what seemed to always be the most inopportune times. Sometimes she would “win” the arguments, but she found that his patience usually exceeded her own.

“Fine. Whatever,” she snapped while rising to her feet, “Just stay in bed and rest. Or don’t. It’s not like you ever follow my advice.” The blue-haired woman swiftly strode out of the room, her anger manifesting in her brusque movements. She was in the process of tracking down her cell phone when she heard voices from the other room. Conveniently, one of them was the very man she was tasked with gathering. It was unsurprising that he was taking advantage of the Briefs hospitality.

“Goku,” she interrupted her mother from divvying out another portion, “Vegeta wants to see you.”

“Oh,” he looked to the food, but knew the other man would not appreciate being kept waiting, “Um, okay.” He placed his utensils down and stood up.

“I think we have enough naked Saiyans in the house,” Bulma went on, “Aren’t your clothes ready by now?”

He looked at the clock sheepishly, “Probably.”

The scientist tsked and pushed him to get him moving, “You boys are impossible.”
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Nowhere: 1	By : FelixMcKadden Category: Missing Data > Missing Data Views: 105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Nowhere: 1