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...
Warnings: Nothing
this chapter except maybe a little Chi-chi bashing, possible OOC...no porn
yet...plenty of that later...
Archive:
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Thoughts in italics, bordered by tilde (~)
Native
Son
Chapter 3
Vegeta, prince of
saiya-jins, stared down into the trusting eyes of his last subject. The
last of his race, the only one of his people who had proven a challenge to his
power, his breeding. What had happened to Kakarrot? He considered
the injuries he’d seen on the other’s back and leg, as he stared bemusedly at
the thick, glossy tail swishing back and forth on the grass. He had more
questions than answers.
Sighing, he cast his gaze
to the sky, sensing the first returning ki. Vegeta’s eyes had no trouble
picking Gohan out against the faint backdrop of nighttime clouds.
Good. The boy had taken his orders seriously, though he doubted that would
have been the case had his big green mentor not reinforced them.
He really didn’t care if
they trusted him or not, so long as they didn’t prevent him from dealing with
this in his own way. How exactly, he was going to do that, he wasn’t
sure. But he did know that Kakarrot needed to be kept away from others
until he stopped being so reflexively violent. Not that Vegeta
disapproved, quite the contrary. He found his fellow saiya-jin’s behavior
quite reminiscent of those he’d known before. It made him feel curiously
relaxed around Kakarrot, not so defensive, or worried that he would be out-done
every moment.
Gohan landed with a soft
shuffle of boots in the tall grass of the clearing, moving to where the prince
sat with one hand resting on his father’s shoulder. Restraining
him. Gohan frowned; he didn’t like that, didn’t like the thought that his
own father might be a threat to him. And worse, the gentle, easy-going
warrior was no more, yet his father was placid as a kitten with Vegeta.
The demi-saiya-jin’s
introduction to the prince hadn’t been an easy one. With Vegeta’s arrival
had come threat after threat to his home, the stability of his family, to his
continued existence. He had noticed though, that over time, Vegeta had
mellowed somewhat. He had become a little less abrasive, one of the ‘good
guys’, despite his reluctant acceptance of that role.
He recalled his father
explaining to him once, in an unexpected moment of insight, that Vegeta denied
his softer side so strongly because, to the prince, it allowed others to see
points of weakness. And that the life Vegeta had led had given him no
lessons that the softer emotions could be strengths instead of weaknesses.
Gohan remembered the slow
stroke of long gloved fingers through his father’s hair, the way the prince had
leaned down to murmur into the other full-blood’s ear. If he looked at it
a certain way, it was clear Vegeta cared for his father, cared for them all in
a way; he’d fought and even died for their safety. A little smile touched
his lips as he recalled how Vegeta always showed up when his father was in
trouble, in just the same way Piccolo did when he, himself, was in trouble.
“Well, boy?”
The prince’s voice sounded
a little more than annoyed. Gohan shook himself from his reverie as he
realized Vegeta had asked him a question. He glanced uneasily at Goku as
he shifted slightly and growled in response to the ouji’s tone of voice.
“Huh?” Gohan
blinked, finding his cheeks flushing at his momentary lack of attention.
His mother would have been screeching by now, though.
Vegeta pinned him with a
glare. “I said, did you get what you were sent for?”
“Oh! Yeah sure,
here…” Gohan dug into his pocket and produced three large capsules.
“Bulma said she wasn’t sure what you meant by ‘plenty of food’, so she sent
extra stuff.”
The prince nodded and took
the capsules from Gohan’s hand, eyeing them and frowning speculatively.
“These will do. While we wait for your jolly green friend, go and find
Kakarrot some clothes, and I have a few questions for you when you return.”
Gohan nodded and, knowing
the prince was not one for small talk, took to the air quickly to return to his
home. He really hoped he wouldn’t be waylaid by his mother with a million
questions he couldn’t answer or with another million imprecations rained down
on his ears. He was already tired; it had been a very long day.
Just as Gohan’s ki trail
began to disappear, Piccolo and the young Guardian of earth arrived. The
imposing namekian’s eyes narrowed and he stepped between Dende and the softly
snarling wild saiya-jin.
“Where is Gohan
going?” Piccolo’s voice was gruff, his nerves were beginning to rub raw.
“He’s gone for some
clothing for Kakarrot, if that’s alright with you, Namek.” The
prince felt his hackles rise at the almost challenging tone of the big green
warrior.
“Hn, don’t think to
command him as you try with his father, Saiya-jin.” Strong arms
folded over the purple-clad chest.
Vegeta grunted and slipped
down from the boulder to stand between Goku and the namekian. For a
moment it was an eerie standoff between races, both alien to the soil they
stood over. Eventually the prince relented, turning and gesturing to his
fellow saiya-jin.
“Well? Can’t that
little spud check him out?”
Piccolo snorted.
“We’re not ‘spuds’, Vegeta, show some respect. Dende is Guardian
of Earth, no matter what you might think of him personally.”
“Feh, whatever.” The
prince waved a hand dismissively. “See if he can heal any other damage
that was done to him, whatever the sensu could not fix.”
The namekian’s brow drew
down in a scowl. “I can’t stop Son if he goes for him, I expect you to
hold him off if he’s a threat.”
“Yes, yes.” Vegeta
smirked, moving to the other saiya-jin and sliding a gloved hand into his hair
once again. “Just get on with it.”
Dende gave Piccolo a
dubious look and made to move forward, clearly nervous after what he’d been
told about the behavior of the leader of earth’s special forces. The
elder namekian gave him a nod and murmured reassuringly.
“It’s alright,
Dende. If Vegeta lets him hurt you, I’ll personally tear him a new
asshole.”
The small Guardian blinked
up at this, his cheeks flushing violet at the profanity, then moved forward
slowly. He extended a hand toward his friend, speaking softly as he neared.
The only response he got was a wary look and soft growl. Dende’s eyes
flicked up to Vegeta, but found no reassurance in the slight smirk he found on
the prince’s face.
“I…uhm…I’ll have to touch
him. In order to find out what’s wrong.”
Usually, Dende needed only
to be near enough for the energy from his hands to flow out to his
subject. But Goku wasn’t actually injured, at least not visibly, and the
small namekian knew the sensu would have healed any obvious wounds anyway.
Vegeta nodded, fingers tightening
imperceptibly in the thick spikes of saiya-jin hair. He felt a slight
shock of surprise as Goku leaned against his leg, still growling softly but in
obvious protection of the prince rather than himself. Vegeta found
himself wanting to stroke through the luxuriant strands of hair instead of
holding them in a restraining grip, wondering subconsciously how they would
feel against his ungloved hand.
~ What the hell is
wrong with me, now? ~
He mentally shook himself and turned his attention back to Dende.
The Guardian stepped
closer, slightly unnerved by the continuous throaty growl, and carefully placed
one hand on Goku’s back and another on his forehead. Closing his eyes,
the small namekian concentrated, hands glowing as his energy surfaced and flowed
into the saiya-jin.
Goku’s reaction was not
what the prince had expected. He’d thought that he might snarl or snap,
or simply move back. But Vegeta was unprepared for the swallowed whimper
and the way the other pressed against him as if seeking his prince’s
protection. Scowling down, he snapped at the healer.
“What the hell are you
doing? Why’s he acting like that?”
Dende eyes flew open in
confusion, still scanning the burly warrior, but flinching away from the tone
in the prince’s voice. “I…I don’t know. I’m not doing anything but
scanning him, t-to see what’s wrong.”
Vegeta’s scowl deepened;
he wasn’t sure why the other saiya-jin was acting this way, but he didn’t like
it. His grip in the thick hair strengthened, his own throat vibrating with
a growl.
“Just hurry up!”
“Y-yes sir!” Dende’s
eyes snapped shut again, his senses extending through the wounded fighter.
There was something
definitely not quite right about him. Goku’s ki was usually pretty
peaceful when he wasn’t fighting, but right now it was spiking and fluctuating,
as if there were some sort of internal conflict taking place. Shifting
both hands to either side of the gloved fingers of the prince, he pressed
deeper. But, before he could finish, Gohan returned; pack slung over one
shoulder and a screeching Chi-chi dangling from his arms.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY
POOR GOKU!!?”
The woman was flailing
about, entirely unconcerned about the difficulties she was presenting her son,
and very nearly falling free. Gohan landed roughly, almost falling on his
face. His mother simply hopped free at the last moment and stalked toward
the small group. She clutched a heavy rolling pin in one hand, and bore
down on them like an avenging mother-goddess, with bun askew and strands of
hair standing out around her face.
The first thing everyone
but Chi-chi noticed, was the sonorous growl from deep in the wild saiya-jin’s
chest. Even as she advanced on them, Dende darted behind Piccolo for
protection from the ningen threat, they all tensed. Everyone but
Vegeta. With a slight smirk, his fingers subtly loosened in the thick
spikes of hair on the other’s head.
She approached with that
tortured yet somehow malicious look that she usually reserved for those who had
pissed off her sensibilities regarding what was acceptable and what was not.
She made a beeline for the ouji, who was sitting calmly, his eyes not even on
the woman. Gohan was too far away, but he did make a lunge for her.
“MOM!! NO!” Missing
by inches as she continued forward, the demi-saiya-jin ended up face down in
the grass.
Sharp ebony eyes tracked
Chi-chi’s advance, thick muscles bunched in readiness. As she came within
a dozen feet, and before anyone could react, Goku was airborne with a snap of
his thick tail. Snarling, with fingers curled into claws, he lunged at
the strident woman, teeth bared. There was a collective intake of breath.
“Kakarrot!”
The single word was
snapped crisply into the air, neither loud nor soft, but cutting in its
commanding tone. The effect on the earth-raised saiya-jin was nothing
short of incredible. He dropped to the now-dewy grass and, with a final
hiss at the woman, meekly returned and sank to one knee next to the prince.
Chi-chi stood staring for
a full minute, mouth opening and closing like a drowning fish. She
finally shook herself, leaving half those present fully amazed that she hadn’t
keeled over backward in another dead faint, and immediately began a fresh
harangue.
“What is wrong with
you, Goku? They told me you were hurt! You’re obviously just
fine, and you’re coming home right now, do you hear me? No more of
this playing around to get out of your responsibilities! I work myself to
the bone raising your sons and taking care of your home, the least you
could do…”
Finally, his ears unable
to take anymore, Vegeta stepped forward with his own snarl.
“That is enough,
woman!”
Even Chi-chi cringed
slightly at the fury in the prince’s voice, taking a step back and snapping her
mouth shut despite herself. While Vegeta was not much taller than
herself, she was suddenly subject to the full impact of imperial wrath. A
cold sweat broke out over her body as she looked into the prince’s blazing
eyes.
Piccolo’s sharp gaze took
in the ouji’s stance and curled fists. Pointed ears picked up the harsh
breathing of both prince and pauper. His eyes flicked to the saiya-jin
left kneeling on the grass, earth’s defender, and once happy-go-lucky
borderline idiot. He noted the tension in the muscular form, the
uncontrolled lashing of the glossy tail. His sensitive nose picked up on
a variety of odd scents wafting from both saiya-jin.
~ Hmmm… ~
If he didn’t know better,
Piccolo would have sworn they were protecting one another. He could
understand it from Goku, though not in this manner, but what possible
motivation could Vegeta have? The prince had always sworn he’d kill Goku,
was forever talking down to him and threatening him with any manner of bodily
harm. The namekian warrior mentally shrugged and simply filed it away for
later evaluation. There had to be some answer.
The little tableaux broke
as Vegeta, convinced he’d gotten through to the woman, swept around on his heel
and returned to his seat on the boulder. Eyes all around bugged out as
Goku once again leaned against the prince’s knee. Vegeta bent and
whispered something to him, and he finally relaxed.
Gohan, after regaining his
feet and moving forward to stand between his mother’s continued glare and the
rest of the small group, stammered an apology.
“Sorry guys, she kind of insisted
on coming…heheh!” His expression mirrored the one his father generally
wore when in a strained or embarrassing situation; toothy, sheepish smile, one
hand raking through the hair on the back of his head.
The prince grunted, still
scowling. Dende peered around Piccolo’s side, seeming to prefer the
company of the snarling saiya-jin to that of his wife. Gohan shot an
anxious look at his father, his nerves unsettled by the way the warrior pinned
each of them with a steely, yet still unrecognizing look.
“Piccolo?” The young
saiya-jin peered hopefully up at his mentor. “Did you find out anything?”
He was rewarded with only
the shake of the green fighter’s turbaned head. Piccolo then turned to
the small healer at his side, wary of Vegeta’s sharp look.
“Well, Dende? Were
you able to scan him?”
The Guardian shifted from
foot to foot, his hands coming up to twist together as he looked down.
“Not completely.
Once…uhm…once she showed up I couldn’t stay in contact with him.
But the problem seems to be in his mind.”
One thick green brow ridge
rose in inquiry. “What? You mean he has head injuries too?”
“Well no, not like
that. I mean, I guess he might have, but the sensu would have healed
that. There seems to be some sort of short-circuit in his mind.”
The small namekian tapped his temple. “Like things are all jumbled and
still being straightened out. Didn’t you say Gohan found him like this
after a storm?”
Vegeta’s head shot up, his
eyes narrowing on them as he scowled.
“Storm? Why didn’t someone
tell me about this earlier?”
“I…I didn’t know it was
important.” Gohan stammered.
“Of course it’s important,
baka! What else are you keeping from me?” The prince slid to his
feet.
“Nothing! I mean,
nothing that I don’t know I am…” Gohan blinked and scratched his head.
“Hn… Well, it would
explain the wounds. And it might explain what the little green-bean there
said.” Vegeta paced slowly back and forth, tuning the rest of them out,
eyes on his new responsibility.
Now that he was aware of circumstances
of Kakarrot’s change, he concluded that the twisted burns on the younger
saiya-jin’s back and leg had probably been made by a stroke of lightning.
Such things were rare on
Vegeta-sei. The big ruddy planet had had a much more stable orbit around
its binary star, leaving the weather less seasonal and more stable.
Though it had its fair share of electrical upsets, usually during the Ru`a-nin,
the absolute dark of the moon when Vegeta-sei was at the nadir, or furthest
point, in its orbit.
Huge electrical storms
would spread from the poles of the planet as it hung on a cusp of
destruction. The ground would quake as massive geo-magnetic forces pulled
at it, threatening to tear it into pieces. Fortunately, Vegeta-sei’s moon
and orbital cycles only coincided on rare occasions. This was also a time
when saiya-jin instincts were at their peak as the planet struggled for its own
life; the urge to mate and bring forth offspring to carry on the race surged.
The prince mulled this
over. Some of his earliest memories were of the Ru`a-nin. Of
clinging to his father’s leg as the floors of the palace shook and tilted, of
screams and howls of defiance ringing out in the streets. He could
remember the feel of strong fingers stroking through his hair and the deep
sound of his father’s voice as it soothed his childhood fears.
Now that he thought about
it, considering his own age at the time of the last Ru`a-nin, and the age
difference between the two of them; Kakarrot himself was probably the result of
a Ru`a-nin mating. Planetary laws were suspended during that time; there
was no point in trying to police a populace whose higher brain functions were
clouded with the instinctive urge to battle the unseen threat, and to rut long
and fast in order to continue one’s bloodline.
If Kakarrot had
been struck with a bolt of lightning it might have triggered a Ru`a-nin sort of
reaction; sending his instincts surging out of control since he’d had no
previous experience in dealing with such. It would also explain why the
big saiya-jin was reacting to the prince so differently than he did the others;
Vegeta smelled saiya-jin, was saiya-jin. And was of the royal
line, instilling a sense of protectiveness and obedience in the third-class’
instinct-muddled mind.
Vegeta suddenly became
aware of the scrutiny being directed at him from all sides as he was lost in
his own thoughts. Head coming up, he folded his arms and ceased his
pacing. It was a pity, he thought, that Kakarrot would probably return to
normal soon. Until then, though, he had this opportunity to teach him the
ways of a true saiya-jin, and perhaps instill some sense of respect and
acceptance of his species.
Without another word to
those waiting expectantly, he relieved Gohan of the pack of clothing and stalked
out of the small circle of onlookers.
“Come, Kakarrot…”
The words were fairly
soft-spoken, and brooked no questions. Vegeta took to the air without
another look back, followed attentively by his last remaining subject.
“Wait!”
“Hey! What about…?”
“COME BACK HERE,
GOKU!! I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!”
Piccolo watched silently
through narrowed eyes, a feeling of impending change striking him through
Kami’s senses. Something was definitely happening; just what that was,
though, he didn’t know. Yet.
****
They flew on for some
distance, the prince tangled up in thought and speculation, the bigger
saiya-jin following faithfully behind. Vegeta had a lot to think about,
but the day’s events were beginning to wear on him. He was tired, the
tension from earlier had mostly drained away, leaving him wishing for a warm
bed and several hours uninterrupted sleep.
Finally, after having
flown an hour or more over uninhabited forest, and feeling a bit more secure
with the distance from others, Vegeta began casting about for a proper
campsite.
Spying the faint glint of
starlight on water, he followed the course of a small stream to its
source. A bubbling spring flowed from a cliffside crevice into a deep
pool that, in turn, spilled over the edge of tumbled stone into a slender
cataract of water that fell some two hundred feet before beginning to wend its
way through the trees below.
Dropping to the ledge next
to the spring, the prince cast an appraising look around. There was, of
course, the water source, which was crucial to a good campsite. The
forest below promised plenty of game and other foraging should the need for
food become more apparent. They were high up enough to see for some
distance, though their sense of ki would probably have been sufficient.
The clincher, at least as
far as Vegeta was concerned, was the hollow beneath the head of the
cliff. Stone had been loosened in some previous act of nature, and
tumbled free of the cliffside. It was probably this that had brought the
flow of water to the surface, but it also left a deep overhang of rock above
the spring.
Levitating, the prince
lifted up to the ledge to inspect it closer in the near total darkness, wanting
to be sure it was secure. Not that he thought they could be injured by
falling stone, but it would be annoying to have to find another place.
Once he was settled into a temporary home he wanted it to stay that way.
It looked sturdy enough,
the rock here was a little windswept and fairly level, and there didn’t appear
to be any fresh rockfall. Good enough. He nodded and turned, nearly
plowing into the other saiya-jin as he waited silently and attentively behind
his prince. With a grunt and a scowl, Vegeta took out his training
capsule and tossed it into the middle of the shelf of rock. A muffled
‘BOM!’ and puff of smoke later, and a small domed dwelling came into being.
“All right,
Kakarrot. Come on, it’s been a long day…”
Vegeta strode to the small
house and pushed the door open. With Goku only a few steps behind him, he
entered the single-room accommodations.
It was outfitted to his
specifications, with only the basic necessities and nothing that could lead to
distraction. He had had to tear out some things himself, since the
blue-haired onna couldn’t seem to wrap her genius’ brain around a simple
concept like no distractions.
When he’d first approached
her about it she’d seemed eager enough, probably glad to get him and his
unpredictable temper away from her house. And it would mean she wouldn’t
have to work on the gravity chamber while he was gone, freeing her time for
things she found more interesting. Unfortunately, while she had no
problem with single rooms and basic furnishings, she’d been unable to imagine
anyone not wanting a phone, fax, pager, and satellite television.
The first morning he used
it, Vegeta had awakened to a din of buzzes and rings and beeps as Bulma tried
to reach him to see how he liked it. He’d thought for a moment that he
was in his space pod with the proximity and attack alerts blaring. A few
well-placed ki blasts had taken care of most of it. When he returned, he
made no comment, but knew she noticed the scorch marks during her inspection.
By now he’d used it
several times, and was familiar with, almost affectionate for, the little
structure. It had only one touch of luxury: the single bed was huge and lush
and entirely comfortable. There was a small kitchen area with basic
utilities, and the floor was uncarpeted, though there were some woven rugs here
and there. A small table and chair sat to one side of the kitchen area,
and just opposite the bed was a small bathroom and shower stall.
Tossing the pack with the
other saiya-jin’s clothing onto the table, Vegeta paused a moment to see what
the other saiya-jin’s reaction would be, if any. He couldn’t help the
amused twitch of his lips as Kakarrot sniffed in the empty refrigerator,
seeming to be relaxed in the small home.
The prince mused that it
seemed the aggression was directed toward people rather than things. The
Guardian had said his thoughts were jumbled, so there must be some
memories of his daily life, which would explain his lack of nervousness.
Vegeta shrugged and turned away toward the bed, switching off the lights that
had come up automatically on their entry. He was tired, he was going to
bed; baka or no baka, he needed sleep now.
“We’ll eat in the morning,
Kakarrot…” The prince ignored his own growling stomach, too tired to deal
with even simple camp rations.
Vegeta stalked to the bed,
stripping off his clothing as he went, and crawled straight beneath the
covers. He punched a pillow into proper shape and curled onto his side,
snuggling down into the warm blankets, drowsing off almost immediately.
He barely noted the shuffle of clothing and the sounds of the other saiya-jin
as he curled up on the rug next to the bed, placing himself between the prince
and any threat.
There was a sound; an
insistent and annoying sound, and it dragged Vegeta from sleep like he was
surfacing through thick water. He stared at the darkened wall for a moment,
trying to identify the noise. Finally, pushing himself up and tossing the
blankets back, he leaned over and peered down at the floor beside the bed.
The larger saiya-jin was
curled up tightly, or as tightly as someone his size could, anyway. His
thick tail curled around his shoulder in a vain attempt to warm himself as he
shivered violently, his teeth chattering even as he slept. The room was
a little cold, the prince thought; he’d forgotten to engage the heating system
before going to bed. He reached out and prodded the muscled shoulder.
“Kakarrot…” There
was only a faint grunt of acknowledgement. He poked again.
“Kakarrot! Wake up, you’re making too much noise.”
Deep, dark eyes gazed up
at him sleepily, the larger saiya-jin’s frame still shivered. Vegeta
looked down at him a moment before sighing and sliding back on the bed.
“Come on, Kakarrot.”
He thumped the mattress with one hand. “If you keep doing that I won’t
get a moment’s sleep.”
There was no real reason
to make the other saiya-jin sleep on the floor, Vegeta mused. Other than
the fact that he was a third-class while Vegeta was the prince of their
race. And the fact that said prince barely tolerated the other’s
existence. Not to mention the fact that almost everything about Kakarrot
annoyed the hell out of him. Up until today, that is.
He scowled at the wall,
barely noticing the shift of the bed as the other climbed in. But that
damnable clicking of the other's teeth; Vegeta couldn’t stand sounds like
that. And he needed his sleep. Or so he convinced himself. He
grumbled and burrowed back under the blankets, and closed his eyes resolutely.
They blinked open again as
he felt the larger form snuggle up against his back, not surprised at the
action so much as he was at his own reaction. It felt oddly comforting,
soothing even. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed for
sleep.
After only a moment, a low
half-snore half-purr sounded in his ear as the other saiya-jin fell back to
sleep. The sound was almost familiar, and lulled the prince into sleep
before he could conjure up an argument.
A rich scent seemed to
tickle the back of his nose as he drifted off.
~ You need a bath,
Kakarrot… ~
****
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