Uncharted Waters

Chapter V:

“Kakarott, I’m not going to waste my time with you if you keep up like this!” Vegeta snapped, disgusted with his rival. They had been sparring for only an hour; however, it was clear that the younger, spiky-haired man’s attention was elsewhere.

“Perhaps,” a nasty smirk quirking his sharp features, “someone like Krillen would be more up your alley, hmm? But no,” he considered, “he has a wife and child to keep him busy. Wouldn’t have time for the likes of you, would he?”

It was a golden blur that rushed the Saiyan prince. Moviust ust in time to dodge the attack, he spun backward in the air away from his opponent. “That’s better,” he said righting himself. “Although, I have to say your form is still pathetic, not to mention your speed.” Vegeta’s blue eyes studied the man in front of him as they would a particularly revolting insect. His smirk widened into a grin, “Probably too many home-cooked meals. Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore, will you?”

Goku screamed in rage; his pain and fury seeped out into a ki ball aimed at the older man’s head. He flung the sphere with precision; its deadly trajectory would have seriously injured or even killed the prince if Vegeta’s own attack hadn’t deflected the blow “Is “Is that all you’ve got, Kakarott?” the shorter Saiyan taunted, throwing several blasts of his own. “What a waste you are. What an utter waste.” A cruel chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s for the best your mate died, Kakarott. Better for her to die than face the shame of being mated with such a low-born looser.”

Suddenly, the figure before him phased out of sight and instantly reappeared inches from his face. Vegeta’s hands flew up and back to brace himself as he was thrown intiff iff only to reemerge from the other side. Before he could still his body, a vice-like hand wrapped around his throat jerking him nose-to-nose with his assailant.

“Why?!”

The prince found himself staring into shimmering blue eyes. Crystal rivulets ran down the younger man’s cheeks. “Why, Vegeta, why?!” he roared shaking the prince with each word.
“How can you say those things?” The pressure increased steadily on his throat, but still he found the voice to answer.

“Because,” he gasped, “I’m sick to death of your wallowing. Your mate is dead, Kakarott, but you are not. I know it hurts. I know the pain must suffocate you day in and day out.” He stole another breath of air, “But you can either carry that pain and live, or let it destroy you. And if you want to be destroyed, by the gods, I’ll help you to do it.”

Goku suddenly doubled over in pain as Vegeta brought his knee up sharply into his abdomen. Losing his grip on the smaller man’s throat, he found himself yanked backwards by the hair. “You may have fooled the others with your idiot façade,” the prince hissed in his ear, “but not me. I’d rather see you dead than rotting away behind that bullshit smile of yours. So do us all a favor and quit pretending.” He twisted the golden locks in his fingers more tightly. “You want to die?”

Goku’s eyes shifted a fraction at the question.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Vegeta smirked seemingly self-satisfied. Yet, the smirk unexpectedly vanished only to be replaced with a scowl. “And everyone thinks I’m selfish.”

And with that he threw down his captor into the earth hundreds of feet below.

The impact left a massive crater in the barren landscape. Rock formations that had taken thousands of years to form, crumbledo ruo rubble within a matter of seconds. Miles from the site, ice-covered branches shook as if a strong breeze had come in.

Allowing the dust to settle, Vegeta slowly descended to the snow-covered debris below. He had watched the younger Saiyan for nearly three weeks now. Goku was a walking caricature of himself. To a casual observer, he seemed to be an enthusiastic individual. To his friends, he was the same old Goku: simple and good-natured, even if he was a bit more quiet than normal. To his rival, however, he was a wraith hiding in a cheap shroud. The taller warrior’s smile was forced, never reaching his eyes that remained hollow and restless. His movements were slowed and jerky, as if it took every ounce of will power to make each limb move. And his voice was an octave or two lower than normal. Although, Vegeta had to admit, none of these indications would have grabbed his attention if not for one thing: Goku didn’t smell right.

The older Saiyan had tried to avoid his competitor while at the Lookout. Goku had snapped out of his catatonic haze within 48 hours after the accident, since then he had been making a nuisance of himself. As would be expected, Vegeta made an effort to be on the opposite side of the compound at all times, lest he loose his temper. Unfortunately for him, he did bump into the younger man the first week of his stGokuGoku apologized, and Vegeta insulted him; a normal exchange, yet when the taller warrior turned to leave, the prince caught his scent. He smelled like death. Like new death. He’d come across the scent many times before in the field as a soldier. Warriors who faced impossible odds, captives were ere sold into slavery, fellow soldiers who couldn’t hack the job. Suicide smelled sour and bitter at the same time. It was hard to describe. However, it reeked from the other man. Faint at first, but it grew over time. It was to be expected with the loss of a mate. Still, Vegeta reasoned that he would come to his senses. He, too, had been in that position once wBulmBulma and he first parted ways. But he recovered with some help. And besides, Kakarott had loads of friends; surely one of them would step in. The only problem was that the widower wasn’t making any effort to see anyone and avoided all visitors. Vegeta noticed this, as he noticed everything else. After catching the scent, he used the observational skills that he was taught a lifetime ago. Only in this instance wae wasn’t out to murder the object of his attention.

Said object was slowly pulling himself up from the wreckage. His golden hair had diminished back to its natural dark color. His orange gi, which wasn’t in the best of shape to begin with, was shredded beyond use. With a grunt, he pulled his leg free from the last bit of stone and scooted himself a few feet away, but made no move to rise. The soft footfalls of his opponent reached his sensitive ears, yet he paid them little heed. They stopped a meter or so away from him, and then, silence. It was like that for some time until the taller Saiyan started babbling incoherently to himself.

The shadow of the Saiyan prince fell over him, but still he continued to mutter rocking back and forth in the hard-packed snow.

“Kakarott.” The name passed the elite’s lips in a puff of air.

Slowly, dark eyes met blue. “It hurts.”

Vegeta nodded then powered down. He crossed his arms and regarded the fallen man before him, waiting for him to continue.

“It hurts from the inside. I can’t shake it. I know. I’ve tried.” He propped himself on his hands, face turned to the overcast sky. “It hurts so much. I’d do anything to make it go away. What is it, Vegeta? What’s doing this to me?”

“It’s the bond you had between yourself and your mate.” He paused. “I wish I could give you more of an explanation, but I don’t quite understand it myself.”

Goku sat up. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t mean to bond with her.”

Vegeta shook his head at the other man’s naiveté, “No one does, Kakarott. It just happens.”

“She was always supposed to be there and now...” His voice shook, placing his head in his hands he moaned, “...Gods, it hurts so much I can’t see straight. I don’t understand why we do this.” He sat like that for several minutes, drowning in his own sea of despair. Vegeta watched silently, letting the other man have a moment to mourn. He carried on, arms wrapped around himself rocking on his backside as if he was feverish. Tears soaked his skin, the cold air threatening to freeze them to his cheeks. The prince’s eyes softened at the scene before him. He did empathize with the grieving fighter, he really did. Still, to stand and look over him was all he could do and all that was warranted. That was their relationship. Kakarott was not only his rival but a fellow Saiyan compatriot. They had fought, together and with each other. ‘Fellow-in-arms’ was probably the best term for it. Although, the elite highly doubted that the younger man viewed it that way. Goku considered him a friend. Not a close one, for the older man’s patience was far too thin. But there was respect and an understanding. The boundaries between them were plainly outlined.

The lamenting abruptly came to a halt, taking Vegeta away from his thoughts. Deliberately, Goku lifted his head, hands falling to his sides. The younger man’s tear-streaked face looked like it was carved from granite, save for his eyes that were unusually bright. “Why,” he asked softly, “do we form these bonds if it only leads to this?”

The prince raised a brow, somewhat unsettled by the change in demeanor. He remained silent, however, wishing to see what the taller warrior would do or say next.

“They don’t seem to have a real function. These bonds of yours.” The strange voice continued as if the speaker had no control over it “What use are they? I would think that a warrior race would be beyond such things. It’s...a weakness. A distraction. Why suffer the pain? Why bear this kind of allegiance to anyone?”

By and far, Vegeta, despite the earlier musings, regarded the man before him as a simple fool—a very powerful fool, but an imbecile nonetheless. Although sometimes, very rarely, a clarity would focus the warrior’s gaze. A hidden wisdom, but this had only happened a handful of times and passed so quickly that the shorter Saiyan often wondered if he imagined the moment. But there was no mistaking it this time. Goku had never been this articulate before for this long. To be honest, it was creeping the other warrior out. In spite of this, Vegeta appeared to be unaffected by the statement.

“It is who we are. Deny it, dispute it, question it...” he broke off with a shrug. “Do it all, but the pain won’t lessen.”

Goku’s eyes darkened as he slumped at the statement. “Then I wish I wasn’t a Saiyan!” he cried suddenly, sounding like a petulant child. “It’s not fair! I didn’t do anything to deserve this. This shouldn’t be happening to me. Why—”

The blow to his cheek sent him sprawling.

“Quit your incessant whining!” the prince shouted, yanking the other man up to his feet by neck of his gi. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Damn it to all nine hells, but I’m tired of listening to this crap.” He shoved the taller warrior away from him causing his captive to stumble and nearly fall on his ass. “Blow your fucking head off if that’s what you want, I don’t care. But you do realize that you weren’t the only one who lost someone. Bulma, Krillen, Yamcha—they lost their childhood friend. The Ox-King, his only daughter. Videl, a mother-in-law, and Pan, a grandmother. But most importantly, Gohan and Goten, your sons.” He paused, that familiar scowl darkening. “You do remember them, don’t you?” he asked sarcastically. “They lost their mother. And speaking of ‘unfair’,” he added, “from what I’m seeing right now, they’re also about to lose their father. And you know, looking at what a pathetic piece of shit you are, it may be for the best. Who needs a selfish, insipid prick wallowing in his own self pity?”

Wide-eyed, Goku’s mouth open and closed, giving the impression of a landed fish. “I... I...,” he sputtered. “I didn’t think—”

“Well, what a revelation!” the prince exclaimed, a look of false amazement on his face. “You didn’t think. No, Kakarott, you usually don’t. That’s why you have a son sitting by himself in an empty house surrounded by the memory of his mother, which he happened to find floating face-up in a sauna.” He paused a moment as he collected his thoughts.

“I can’t begin to imagine what he must be going through. Gohan, luckily, has his family to ease his suffering, but Goten...” He shook his head in dismay. “He won’t talk, you know, not really. It’s a struggle even to get him to leave the house. Trunks has tried everything he can think of, short of dragging him out by the hair. By the abyss, even Piccolo and I have stopped by to see him.”

Huffing in frustration he continued, hoping that some of the words were seeping into the other man’s thick skull. “The boy doesn’t need us though; he needs his family.” He jabbed a finger into the taller Saiyan’s chest. “What in hell kind of father are you, anyway? Your sons need you, and you fuck off like a coward. You do that a lot, don’t you? I wonder why that is.” His eyes narrowed, lips curled in a derisive sneer. “Then to top things off, you make a damn nuisance of yourself at the Lookout. Piccolo may be more polite and hold his tongue, but I’m sure as hell not.”

Vegeta took a step back and crossed his arms looking up at the stunned figure before him. “You’ve got a choice, low-born. Step up and act like a decent father, or do them a favor and fuck off for good. Because I won’t allow you to carry on as you have been. They have enough pain as it is. So,” the Prince of all the Saiyan race asked, “what’s it going to be?”

Goku blinked several times. A number of emotions crossed his face before he finally straightened up and brushed the snow off of himself. He purposefully stepped up the to shorter warrior. Vegeta mentally prepared himself for an attack trying to size up his opponent and his next move. He was completely unprepared however when he was lifted several inches off the ground in a tight bear hug.

“You’re a good friend, Vegeta.”

“...” The prince hadn’t expected this. He stiffened in the younger male’s arms, wondering what in the fuck was going on.

“Um...that’s nice, Kakarott,” he finally managed, “but if you don’t put me down, I’m going to kick you in the nuts.”

“Oh, sorry.” Gokuppedpped his reluctant companion, who speedily backed away regarding him warily.

The classic Son smile made its first appearance after nearly a month. With a hand behind his head, he gave an embarrassed chuckle.

“I guess I’ve been kind of an jerk lately, huh?”

Vegeta could only nod, still pondering the sudden change.

“Well,” Goku continued, “I think I need to get back home. Tell Piccolo thanks for letting me stay up there. I know I was a tad of a pest...”

‘Well, there’s the understatement of the year,’ thought the prince.

“But I really appreciated the hospitality.” He levitated off the ground, preparing to take off. “And, thanks, Vegeta.” He paused as if he was going to say something else. “Just...thanks.”

And then he was gone, a vapor trail the only evidence of his departure.

“Well, that went well,” the shorter Saiyan said to himself as he, too, took to the skies.

After a short flight, he landed lightly on the balcony of his bedroom, peeling his clothes off as he entered the spacious room, making a beeline to the bathroom. He was in need of a shower after sparring with the younger Saiyan andn’t n’t want to waste any time. Despite his many battles and rigorous training, the prince couldn’t stand being dirty. Plus, he was cold as hell after standing in the snow powered down for so long. Spinning the taps to almost scalding, he started to scrub himself down.

A few moments had passed when the bedroom door opened and the imposing form of the Namek entered. He noticed the traildirtdirty clothing leading to the bathroom door, which currently had steam seeping from beneath it accompanied by the sounds of running water

“Messy little shit,” he grinned.

He could sense that his mate was in a good mood, which bode well for him. Goku apparently decided it was beo reo return back home. Yesterday, after Trunks had joined him in the mountains, they had returned to the Lookout. The young man had relayed the story to his father while sparring in one of the Lookout’s gardens. Vegeta had agreed with the Namek on how to deal with the situation;re wre wasn’t much the boy could do after all. After the demi-Saiyan took his leave, he and his mate sat down and discussed what to do about their not-so-welcome guest. It was then that the older of the two shared his information on Goku’s odd behavior. Shocked at first, Piccolo grudgingly admitted he was taken in by the widower’s act. While he had known Goku was being pointedly elusive, he hadn’t known the extent of his depression. The Namek may have had keen senses, but his mate’s sense of smell was much stronger than his own. As far as observational skills, well, Vegeta had a formal training that he did not. He didn’t begrudge him this, just as his mate didn’t begrudge the vast array of powers the green man held.

After some thought, they both decided that simply talking to Goku wouldn’t have great results. The man was thick at best, plus he tended to dodge any sort of real conversation. So Piccolo was out. A shoulder to cry on? Well, neither of them wanted that job, and since the grieving fighter did his best to avoid friends and family, the idea was moot. Finally, they decided that the best course of action was to shake him to his senses. Someone to slap some reason into him. So Vegeta decided he would do what he did best: be an insensitive asshole. He so did enjoy it, after all.

Removing his own clothing to join his mate’s on the floor, the Namek entered the steam-enshrouded washroom. He found himself staring at his Saiyan lover through the glass of the shower door. Damn, he was gorgeous. Perfect compact body, sleek as steel and powerful, very powerful. He had every battle scar memorized, every line and contour. The Saiyan’s slender hands were now entangled in his black hair that rose from his scalp like a flame. Though right now, it was currently being flattened under a spray of water that was issuing from one of the many shower heads. His eyes were closed as he leaned back into the water, rivulets running down his aristocratic features to pool at the dip in of his collarbone. Beautiful. Piccolo’s gaze drifted downward over the powerful chest and flat stomach lingering on his mate’s sex for a moment. The little bastard was packing; you wouldn’t know it from his height. After admiring the view for a moment his eyes moved over the muscled thighs and legs...

“Are you going to stand there and gawk, or are you going to join me?”

The Namek abruptly looked up into the face of his mate who was regarding him with a look of amusement.

“Well,” he said as he moved into the large shower cubicle, “when one has a nice view, one should enjoy it.” The nice thing about being master of the Lookout was that you could change the layout on a whim. And a shower big enough to screw in was a worthy notion if ever he heard one.

“I take it all went as planned?” the green man inquired while wrapping his arms around his slippery mate.

“Mm-hmm,” Vegeta murmured. He leaned into embrace, inhaling the comforting scent of his lover. He was tired; dealing with Goku had been infuriating. For the benefit of his mate, he played the scene again in his mind even the part where the moron wonder had hugged him. He was rewarded for his openness with a low chuckle.

“It’s not funny,” he protested. “Crazy low-class bastard. How dare he touch me. Anyway, I think he’s bi-polar. He went from dumbass to creepily well-spoken in two seconds flat. I kick the shit out of him, insult him, goad him, and the freak tries to molest me. As far as I’m concerned, he should be put away.”

Piccolo smiled. He had missed his older mate immensely. He cherished the time they had together. Even if it had been eight years, he still considered himself damned lucky. Especially now that his feisty lover’s hands were drifting down his backside. He pulled away slightly to look into the Saiyan’s face, but the prince took this opportunity to pull the Namek down so that his lips met his own. They explored each other’s mouths, tongues dueling for supremacy. Their mutual arousals became apparent as they pressed themselves more closely together. A chorus of moans and gasps echoed in the tiled room as they searched each other.

It wasn’t long before the Saiyan had his legs wrapped around the taller green warrior. He leaned up, taking an antenna in his mouth, exploiting his lover’s weakness even as skilled fingers skidded over the scar on his back down to his cleft. Considering past interruptions, they weren’t going to spend much time on foreplay. Vegeta gasped, eyes fluttering as he was quickly prepared and soon penetrated. Both groaned in pleasure and both were appreciative of the fact that the glass walls were reinforced. Especially since the Namek took it upon himself to pound into his lover.

With one hand wrapped around one of the multi-level faucets for support and the other on the green man’s shoulder, the prince bore down on every upward thrust almost causing the taller man’s knees to buckle. The Namek found that he had to raise his ki just to sustain his footing. It didn’t help matters that his lover was matching him thrust for thrust, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He snaked a hand between their bodies grasping his lover’s erection, stroking firmly in time with his propulsions. The spiky-haiprinprince made a sound in his throat that was a cross between a whimper and a scream. He didn’t last much longer and soon with a ragged cry his seed spilt unto their stomachs. The intensity of his lover’s orgasm pulled the younger man into completion. And with a groan and shudder he came deep within his Saiyan lover.

They stood like that for a moment, gaining their breaths. After breaking apart, they looked at each other, drinking the sight in, but it came to their attention that it felt a bit draftier than it should. The looked to the left and noticed that the door was absent from the stall and indeed was in several pieces on the floor. They glanced at each other and laughed. Oh well, so they broke another one; it was easily replaced. At least now they could do what they wished...

... As loud and hard as they wished.

... At any time that they wished.

Life was back to normal once again.