Dancing With the Devil | By : chibivegeta Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 908 -:- 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 have this great land in Florida that I’m willing to
let go, cheap…
Warnings: TWT/OOC,
Sap, Romance ( o.O ), Shounen-ai, that’s right…no lemon!!! (suicides step this
way -->)
Archive: Submit URL
Full
credit given to Xero_Sky, for her Night of Souls concept.
Dancing
With the Devil
Son Goku leaned against
the door; head tilted, ears sharpened for the slightest sound. There were
muffled grunts and curses, an occasional growl, but mostly silence. In
truth he was surprised to be there at all, surprised that the prince had
actually agreed. Of course he’d had to work at it.
His gaze drifted to the
window as he thought back. Twilight gathered in the treetops; the ruddy
glow of the sun already lost behind the horizon gave way quickly to deep purple
and blue. It seemed night fell quickly once autumn had burned the leaves to
rust and antique gold. The brawny saiya-jin’s lips curved into a smile as
he spied several costumed goblins darting along the street. His thoughts
turned inward once again as they disappeared into Halloween’s night.
****
It had been almost a year,
now. Each year, just after Chikkyu-sei spun through her second equinox
and stood in perfect balance, Son Goku had noticed the normally taciturn
prince’s mood slipped to downright surly. He had watched each year as
Vegeta’s attitude shifted, deepening with the drifts of leaves as they spun
over the ground. He barely saw him during the coldest months, the sullen
ouji seeming to almost hibernate in his training room. Then, sometime in
spring, when the year was young again, Vegeta would suddenly appear, eager to
fight and train.
Vegeta always became edgy,
too. Snapping and growling at anyone who came within earshot, most often
Goku himself, being the only one both foolish and interested enough to brave
the prince’s hackles. He had finally decided to do a little research,
both curious and frustrated at his lack of understanding for someone with whom
he was usually in remarkable tune.
After defeating Buu and
returning to Chikkyu-sei, Goku had realized how much he and the prince were
actually alike. Vegitto had taught him that. He sighed and shifted,
his brows drawing down as he thought about all they’d been through together,
all the challenges they’d faced. It was his growing attachment to the
prince that had driven him to pull a few considerable strings and make his deal
with Enma and the kais.
He now had free access to
all levels of the afterlife. It wasn’t like they could stop him really,
but having them agree meant a lot less time wasted, and a few extra perks as
well. At his first opportunity he had sought out those saiya-jin with
strength of will enough to still exist in hell. More specifically, he had
searched for, and found, Vegeta no Ou.
He recalled his first
meeting with the imposing king, reminded strongly of Vegeta, yet without the
brittle edge. He had explained to the Ou about his and Vegeta’s growing
friendship, and his desire to understand more of his heritage in order to
better relate to the prince. He had actually almost blushed when the
bearded lips had twitched into a knowing smile, the sharp obsidian eyes seeming
to pierce right through him.
Yet Vegeta no Ou had
simply taken him at his word, and they’d spent many evenings talking into the
early hours about Vegeta-sei; her people, her traditions, the varied culture
that thrived on a tropical planet spinning around her twin suns. Son Goku
slowly came to realize just what he had missed out on, what Vegeta himself
truly missed, what was gone at the whim of a cold-blooded lunatic.
****
He was jolted back to
awareness as the door he was leaning against was suddenly pulled open.
“I look ridiculous in
this, Kakarrot!”
Vegeta stood glowering at
him. The heavy sweep of a blood red cape swirled around his ankles, a
dull gleam from the bronzed formal armor seemed to highlight the russet tone of
his hair. The midnight blue bodysuit clung to him like a second skin.
Goku forced himself to breathe.
“Wh-What?” Goku
swallowed, trying to force his eyes from the path they seemed determined to
take down the prince’s body. “I think you look…uhm…great.” His
thoughts tripped over any number of other, less neutral, adjectives. He
blinked as Vegeta’s words sunk in.
“Why would you think you
look ridiculous, Vegeta? It is saiya-jin armor, isn’t it?”
Goku had promised many a
spar and a few other things to sway an underworld smith to craft the armor, and
another to an old saiya-jin crone who had sewn the cape and polished the bronze
to a shine. There was going to be hell to pay, quite literally, if he
discovered he’d been duped.
“Yes, Kakarrot, but I look
more a fool than you.”
The saiya-jin prince
folded his arms, his scowl deepening as he caught sight of himself in the
mirror again. His race was dead, his home gone. He was the prince
of nothing, just one big baka of a third-class, one whose company he seemed to
suddenly have an alarming tendency to enjoy. He had no idea how he’d
managed to be talked into this.
Yet here he was, having
agreed to go with the other saiya-jin to kami knows where, and dressed head to
toe in the formal uniform of his forefathers. He began to question his
sanity in agreeing to anything the other suggested.
“Well I think you look
great, Vegeta.” The younger saiya-jin stepped back and nodded in
agreement to himself, having forgotten his own special dress.
“What the-?” Vegeta
blinked. “Kakarrot! Where the hell did you get that ?”
The prince stared at
him. A metallic flash drew his eye along the breadth of armored shoulder
and down to the narrowed waist; he struggled to draw his gaze back up to the
other’s face. Kakarrot looked every inch a royal guard. Vegeta felt
the spikes of hair at the nape of his neck lift as he saw his rival and
begrudged friend in full saiya-jin form. His eyes narrowed suspiciously
at the excited smile on the other’s face.
“All right, Kakarrot, what
have you gotten me into now?”
Goku’s grin never
faltered.
“I told you, Vegeta.
It’s a surprise…”
He moved over to stand
next to the prince, eyeing their reflections in the mirror. Vegeta’s eyes
locked on to Goku’s through the silvered glass, seeming to burn him in their
intensity, but when he looked down to meet the onyx gaze directly the moment
was gone. His stomach fluttered as the ouji’s cheeks suddenly flushed and
he turned to stalk into the living room.
“Let’s just get this over
with, Kakarrot!”
Goku grinned at the
defensive snapping, following behind the chaotic figure. He wondered if
he could actually get away with the next part of his plan.
“One more thing,
Vegeta. You have to wear this…”
The larger warrior deftly
slipped a length of cloth over the prince’s eyes, knotting it in the
back. Vegeta spun and immediately began pushing it up.
“Have you lost your mind,
Kakarrot? You expect me to go somewhere with you wearing a blindfold ?”
One obsidian eye glared at
him from under the swath of white cloth.
“I told you it was a
surprise, Vegeta. Come on, please?”
Large dark eyes seemed to
grow even larger, taking on a doe-eyed gloss. The full lower lip trembled
just so. The prince’s teeth clenched, torn between caving in immediately
to the demand and being furious that the baka could sway his feelings so
easily. He was the saiya-jin no ouji, emotion did not matter! He
groaned.
“Oh all right, you big
baby…”
He scowled as he dropped
the cloth back into place over his eyes, sighing and imagining his humiliation
if anyone he knew saw him in such a state. His arms folded and one booted
foot tapped impatiently.
“Well get on with it,
Kakarrot!”
Goku’s grin returned
immediately. His voice was low as he raised two fingers to his forehead
and clasped the prince’s shoulder in his other hand.
“Thanks, Vegeta…”
****
They seemed to
rematerialize in a larger space, but still enclosed. Vegeta’s ears
pricked at the sound of shuffling papers and directions being called out.
An insistent hand between his shoulder blades pressed him forward, and he
nearly tripped as a loud voice boomed overhead.
“Hey, Goku! I see
everything is going according to plan.”
Vegeta was sure he heard a
conspiratorial smirk in that voice.
“Ahh…heheh, yeah!
Shhh!”
The prince stumbled to a
halt, reaching for the blindfold, when a hand on his wrist tugged him urgently
to one side. Warm breath huffed against his ear as his ‘guard’ whispered.
“This way, Vegeta…”
“Just a damned minute,
Kakarrot! What do you think you’re doing manhandling me!?”
“Well you can’t see,
Vegeta…”
“I know that,
Kakarrot! If I could take this blasted thing off then I think that would
be remedied…”
Goku blinked, sure he
could feel the glare Vegeta was shooting at him from under the simple fold of
cloth. He tugged the prince forward again.
“Just a few more
minutes. Now come on…”
Vegeta felt somehow
furtive, despite the fact that he was being led. He flinched as the
sensation of the other warrior’s transmission technique shifted around
them. Kami, that always unnerved him.
The air around him felt different
now, thicker, and heavier. There was a sense of radiating heat from
beneath his feet. His nose twitched at the acrid scent that seemed a part
of the atmosphere itself. He scowled inwardly at the hushed tone of his
own voice. He reached up again to push away the blindfold.
“Where the hell are we,
Kakarrot?”
He voiced a very
un-princely squawk as his hand was slapped away from the cloth.
“Stop peeking!”
He felt himself hauled
forward again, and up what seemed to be an inordinately long staircase.
As they paused at the top he could hear strains of music, the melody striking
him with a sense of melancholic nostalgia.
“Kakarrot?”
The prince’s voice was
hushed as a pang of longing wound through him. There was something so
very familiar about that sound, yet also so faint a memory. He held
perfectly still, simply listening.
Goku smiled at the prince,
letting him have that moment of silence, of anticipation. Finally he
reached out with both hands and, slipping them into the silky spikes of upswept
hair, slid the cloth from Vegeta’s eyes.
There was a long moment as
their eyes clashed and held, noses just inches apart. The ouji’s cheeks
flushed as they both jerked away, Goku turned and nodded to the scene below
them, his voice low and hopeful.
“You can look now…”
****
Vegeta’s breath caught as
he gazed down at the scene below. Great banners of the finest bloodlines
of Vegeta-sei hung between soaring stone pillars that supported nothing but the
rubeous-black sky that arched overhead. Bright amber streaks tore through
the ruddy night. Just like the skies of Vegeta-sei during the Fall of
Souls.
Saiya-jin of all classes
mingled and grazed along broad sideboards filled with foods from around the
universe. Whole beasts still turned on spits over low flames.
Couples dressed in dazzling ancient finery swung round in metered step on a
dance floor that swept the entire length of the hall. The glow from
blazing torches, and what seemed to be thousands of candles, gleamed from armor
and picked out ruddy or blue highlights from thick spikes of hair.
Laughter and muted
conversation eddied through the air. For a moment the prince felt as if
he’d been swept back to his fourth birthday, the last happy day he could
remember before his home had been destroyed. His startled gaze darted to
the saiya-jin at his side, taking in the anticipatory smile, the hope shining
in the dark eyes.
“Kakarrot…” Vegeta
was only a little surprised at the hitch in his voice as a lump rose in his
throat and his eyes stung with threatened tears. “What? How?”
His gaze traveled back over the revelers as he half listened to the other’s
muted voice.
“I sort of made a deal,
Vegeta. And your father helped.”
Goku rubbed the nape
of his neck and smiled sheepishly.
The prince’s eyes locked
onto the dais and heavy seat at the other end of the huge hall. His heart
stopped in his chest as he took in the tall form seated there, the upswept hair
and feral eyes an older reflection of his own. Cobalt flashed from the
jewel of state resting on the broad chest. Vegeta’s feet nearly stumbled
as they carried him swiftly down the wide stairs.
Smiles and murmured
admirations accompanied him like a wake as the dancers parted for his
passing. He noticed none of it, his pace increased until he nearly ran
through the sea of color and sound. The hallucination he was sure he saw
only smiled wider as he drew near. Almost falling up the steps he paused
in disbelief as the imposing figure of his father stood to greet him. He was suddenly transported to the
past, just a chibi under his sire’s sharp gaze.
“P-Papa!?”
Saturnine lips lifted in
an all-too-familiar smirk beneath warm piercing eyes. The voice was just
as booming and impressive as he remembered.
“Hai, danji. As in
the flesh as I’m ever likely to be again.”
Vegeta couldn’t recall the
morbid humor, but he did recognize the wry tone. It had been so long ago
that he’d been torn from his family. His true family. He lunged
forward into open arms, breath hitching in a soundless sob. A low croon
sounded familiarly in his ears, bringing instant comfort and calm.
Finally he drew away in consternation, frowning up at his father.
“’Tousan, how is this
possible? Where is this place?”
“That is quite a long
story, boy, but I can tell you that the big baka there is the one who planned
it.”
Ou Vegeta grinned and
nodded to said baka, standing quietly to one side of the father and son
reunion, a nervous smile twitching at his lips. The prince blinked across
at him. Kakarrot. The same big baka who had tormented his very
existence in so many ways, always one step ahead, always following his heart
instead of his head.
Vegeta was suddenly struck
by the gaze of the crowd, the scrutiny of so many. Not just many, but saiya-jin
many. He was amazed, struck with the selflessness of it all, reminded of
his own cold heart and ego. Worse, he was touched; a spark of warmth
rushed like wildfire over the barren tundra of his heart. How could
anyone, much less this pure-hearted bastard of a third-class, give so
much to him? Shock and surprise
broke through his normal defenses, and now he was left feeling. He
was appalled that he didn’t want to taint that purity, no matter how much he
craved it, him. The ouji growled in reaction.
“Kakarrot! You idiot
!”
The newly warmed surface
of his heart cracked as the other’s face fell, his expression one of crushed
hope and failed expectation. The brawny warrior turned and made his way
into the crowd, the familiar wayward spikes quickly becoming lost among the
variety of saiya-jin tresses.
Vegeta’s hand slowly
dropped from where he had unconsciously reached out after the other, his eyes
finally turning up to meet those of his father. His cheeks flushed with
embarrassment.
“I... ‘Tousan, I am
sorry.”
The elder Vegeta took note
of the quieted crowd.
“Come now! Tonight
we celebrate the Fall of Souls, when all lost saiya-jin souls rush home!
Vegeta-sei is no more, but we can still sing our brethren to our hearts!”
The boisterous party
resumed, from dancing to fighting, gambling and lewd commentary, all of it
washed down with gallons of fermented fruit. Vegeta had to admit, his
race excelled at everything.
The Ou looked at him for a
long moment before dropping a hand to his son’s armor-clad shoulder, his voice
pitched low.
“Come, my son, walk and
talk with me…”
****
They paced outside the
raucous hall, father and son in measured step.
“So…you’re telling me that
Kakarrot knew it was my birthday? Knew about the Fall of Souls and… cared
enough to do all this?”
The prince stared at the
ground, dumbstruck and scowling in frustration. The Ou folded his arms
and chuckled.
“Hai, baka ouji, he did it
for you. It seems there is more than one way to win against ‘Son Goku’.”
Trusting obsidian eyes
turned up, Vegeta’s own hero ruffled a hand through his hair. It seemed
as if his father…approved.
“But ‘tousan…you mean, you
don’t mind?”
Another smirk flashed
across the goateed face. Vegeta Ou’s eyes narrowed knowingly.
“Go and find him,
danji. I can see where your heart lies, even if you cannot.”
The elder royal waved to
the shadows behind one of the thick pillars. A tall figure stepped out
and the prince was taken aback.
Kakarrot?
But no, this saiya-jin,
while built as solidly and well as the other, was harder, more cynical of
gaze. The scar over his left cheek lent an air of experience rather than
the innocence of the younger’s aspect. This, then, was not Kakarrot, but
his father.
“Bardock!”
Vegeta wondered if the
night’s surprises would ever end. He stared as his father took the
other’s hand and brought it up to nuzzle the palm, the elder’s eyes twinkling
with mischief as he winked.
“The one good thing about
being the ruler of a dead race, danji. One needn’t worry about continuing
the line…”
With a low laugh from his
companion, the Ou and his lover slipped again into the shadows, leaving the
prince’s jaw agape and his hair nearly standing on end. Oh wait, no, it
was always like that. His thoughts stumbled over one another in conflict.
He stared after his father
in disbelief, finally blinking once they had long departed for more private
realms. His cheeks flushed at the insightful words.
‘I can see where your
heart lies, even if you cannot.’
The prince scowled, rising
into the air with an unconscious exertion of ki. He floated to the open
battlement above the grand hall, boots tapping as he stalked slowly around the
walkway. His eyes traveled over the shifting crowd below, straining to pick out
the jagged sprawl of his rival’s hair. He didn’t even know if the big
baka was still there.
He was brought to an
abrupt halt as one end of a gnarled stick poked the center of his chest.
He blinked up in surprise. The stick was wielded by an equally gnarled
hand; bright black eyes shone at him from beneath grayed spikes of hair. He had
never seen such an aged saiya-jin, he wondered briefly what battle stories she
had to tell.
“Bejita-sama, it is you, I
am sure…”
An old saiya-jin female
smirked up at him, her knotted hands folded over the handle of the walking
stick, though she stood as tall and proud as time would allow. She
inspected him from head to toe, nodding approval. Vegeta flushed under
the piercing gaze, reminded all too well of his garb.
“Fits well it does,
yes. He told me all about you, you know.” The crone paced around
him, still nodding and murmuring. “He made me a promise.” She
pinned him with her gaze.
Vegeta frowned; somehow he
was sure the ‘he’ she referred to was Kakarrot. It dawned on him that she
must have had a hand in the making of the uniform he wore. The ‘surprise’
grew deeper and deeper. The old one tugged at his sleeve.
“He promised you’d give me
my fondest wish…”
One black brow shot up in
amazement, the prince twitched away from the crone’s grasp. She smirked at him
and turned to hobble off with her stick.
“Ah well, I didn’t think
you were a super-saiya-jin anyway…”
“Wait!” The prince
jogged a few steps to catch up with her, surprised that Kakarrot would find
cause to mention it. “My apologies, grandmother,” Vegeta fidgeted under the sharp gaze. “He told you I was a super-saiya-jin?”
The old one paused,
cupping her hands around the head of the walking stick again. Her eyes were
bright ebony, the lines around them lending her an air of wisdom. She
nodded.
“Hai, he did. I told
him I’d make it for him, and he asked me what was my fondest wish…”
She studied him again, the
sharp gaze feeling as though it pierced right through him. He shifted
nervously.
She’s just an old
woman… Vegeta told himself.
“What…ah…what is your
fondest wish then, grandmother?”
“Bah, nothing but a dream
young one.”
The old woman waved her
knobby hand and turned away again, her voice slyly challenging.
“I just always hoped these
old eyes would one day see the Royal House come into its own, but I guess it’s
too late for that now…”
Vegeta’s nerves were shot;
his temper flared along with his ki.
“The House of Vegeta is
Legendary!”
With a snarl the prince’s
hair shot into golden flame, power rippled around him in coruscating waves of
light. The crone turned back, a wily smile on her face, and bowed deeply
enough to stumble. The ouji blinked in confusion at the lowered head and
reached to steady her. It was then he heard the silence from below.
They were all staring up,
some with mouths agape, all of them astonished. The crowd suddenly broke
into wild cheers. Vegeta blinked and turned at the sound of boots tapping
down on the stone next to him.
“They’re cheering for you,
Vegeta…”
The ouji suddenly realized
that none of them knew that Kakarrot was a super-saiya-jin. He hadn’t
told them, hadn’t spoken of his own ascendance; he had given Vegeta his pride
back before his people. A warm palm clasped his shoulder.
“So am I.”
Blazing teal eyes locked
onto sable black as the prince turned and looked up at his… What the hell
could he call him now? His rival? Always. His friend?
Not quite; there was something edgy between them, something that drove them to
increased passion in whatever their interactions. But there was something
more, something that had drawn him chasing after the other no matter how great
his pride. Something that he wasn’t sure he wanted defined, diminished.
Vegeta’s reverie was
broken as the knobby walking stick was jounced against Goku’s chest.
“Ow!”
Goku rubbed the armor over
his chest, his expression wounded. The old one poked him again for good
measure.
“And you, brat! You
take good care of your prince! If not, old Kashke will find a way out of
Hell and claim him for herself!”
Both saiya-jin stared at
her back as she shuffled away, cackling a dry hentai laugh to herself.
There was a long awkward moment between them as the cheers from below finally
faded out, music rose again into the air. The celebration continued even
more frenzied than before. Goku laughed and turned to smile warmly at the
prince.
“Looks like the saiya-jin
have become hell’s dancing demons.”
Vegeta’s eyes again lifted
to his companion’s. What he felt for Kakarrot, did it need to be
defined? Reduced? He felt his cheeks flush as he saw hope and pride
flicker across the other’s face.
“If we are the demons,
Kakarrot, then surely you are the Devil himself.”
A warm hand clasped his
own, the entreaty was low and fervent, barely audible over the wail of pipes
and slow thunder of drums.
“Will you dance with me,
ouji-sama?”
A warm palm clasped cool
slim fingers in as they lifted silently from the rampart, a super-saiya-jin and
his third-class baka, turning slowly in mid-air as sparks of amber sliced
through the night. They moved together in lazy arcs and sweeping turns,
gazes locked as ebon eyes met. Heads tilted shyly together, lips brushed
lightly then more firmly; a mute promise made between their own rushing souls.
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