Author:              Kiarene

Pairings:            Trunks/Vegeta

Disclaimer:        Sadly, the boys don’t belong to me. But I’m sure they’ll have more fun if they did.

Published:         16th July 2004

Archive?            Please ask first

Warnings           Incest. Unbeta-ed.

 

Summary: Sequel to Sons. This is Trunks’ story, when he went back in time to search for his own mate. 

 

 

Fathers

 

 

2nd Pass

 

 

Vegeta pulled off his clothes hurriedly. Usually, after an arduous battle such as that he had been in for the past two days, he would luxuriate in a long soak. Water was sarce but he would indulge when he felt he deserved it. Today, however, he bypassed the wooden tub and headed for the shower instead.

 

It was a large bathroom, an opulent extravagance he loved before the war started. Decorative circular windows with patterned glass that ringed the room, just above the average Saiyajin height, provided ample natural lighting and ventilation, and a bay window by the tub overlooked the courtyard. Now, the blue tiles were chipped and varied-color moss draped the walls in dark green and lupis blue — nature's tapestry, Vegeta joked to himself.

 

He was burning with curiosity over what the Super Saiyajin had to tell them, but at the same time, he was also embarassingly aware of his sweaty state. Of his faded and ragged clothes, and of his thin body.

 

Soap-slicked hands slowed down over his chest and sides, an unhappy frown twisting his face. There were muscles, lean and corded, but he could also feel his ribs. Vegeta knew he wasn't really a catch; he wasn't tall or well-built like his father. Instead, he always had been slender, like his mother, and after the war started, 'slender' became 'scrawny'.

 

Vegeta tiltled his head back as cool water sluiced down, eyes closing. Who was he kidding? Turles insisted he was beautiful and Radditz often flirted with him, but they were his guards and best friends — of *course* they were biased. He was sixteen and he still had not gotten laid. Not to say he hadn't tried, and there were times where he was almost hopeful...

 

And then the other person would pull away. And Vegeta would be left hanging, frustrated and mortified.

 

Dammit. Times like those, he suspected his father's involvement. Everyone *knew* of King Bejita's overprotectivness of his son. Hell, the whole reason this whole war started was because his father refused to hand him over to Frieza. Sure, tensions between the Saiyajins and Icejins were strained for years, but it wasn't *war*. Not until the Frieza set his sights upon the Saiyajin prince.

 

Vegeta rubbed his face vigorously, the sponge refreshingly rough on his sweat-caked skin. Sometimes, he wished his father hadn't done that, hadn't plunged their race into a war they can't win because of him...

 

Even though his father had insisted, and Vegeta *knew*, that it wasn't just that. It was just a stupid excuse Frieza needed to declare war on them. Even if King Bejita had handed his son over, it would be something else.

 

And, if Vegeta were to be really cowardly and frank, he was relieved that he wasn't given over to that ice-jin, with his shifting, slitty eyes that seemed to be undressing him, and his too-red lips and corpse-pale skin. Glad, glad, *glad*. Shuddering, Vegeta forced his thoughts away from the ice-jin.

 

To Trunks. Another faint tremor rippled through Vegeta again, but this was definitely not of disgust.

 

God. Trunks. Trunks was a god. No, maybe not in the literal sense, but oh god. Vegeta purred. Definitely a god. *His* god.

 

He wished.

 

After drying himself, Vegeta pulled out a pair of loose pants from the small cupboard in the bathroom. He glanced down as he knotted the drawstring and made a face. Everything he owned was a little faded and worn, the fabric of the black pants faded to charcoal at the seat and knees, and already his stuff were in better condition than the other Saiyajins because he was the prince.

 

Vegeta remembered Trunks' clothes. Different in style, more stretchy and shiny. Probably an artificial weave. It was extremely hardy too; Trunks left the battlefield with nary a singe. And new. Well-made and expensive. Wherever Trunks came from...

 

Vegeta sighed and hung his towel up neatly. Padding across the bathroom, he cranked open the bay window, allowing the evening breeze in to clear the room of steam and dry the tiles. Once upon a time, he had servants. Now, he only had troops…

 

There was no use thinking about the past or what-ifs.

 

A final glance in the mirror as the silvered glass cleared, fingers combing through soft spikes, and Vegeta felt almost ready. Should he pull on a top as well? Normally he didn't bother but he felt ...underdeveloped, next to Trunks.

 

Vegeta slapped his forehead and blushed. Crossing his arms over his bare — and skinny — chest, he walked out.

 

~

 

King Bejita gaped at Trunks, until he remembered that Kings Do Not Gawk and closed his mouth. Closing his eyes too, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

"Grandson. Vegeta's son." King Bejita looked like he was having difficulty with the concept of his son as a father. He opened one eye. "Dare I ask who's your mother?"

 

The sharp glint in King Bejita's eye reminded Trunks awfully of his mother's, like the heavy quiet before the storm. Suddenly, Trunks realized that it wouldn’t be be Vegeta or any other suitors that would be the problem — it would be Vegeta's father.

 

"She. Ah. Um. You won't know who she is," Trunks fumbled and felt like a gauche pre-school kid all over again. Because she's not a Saiyajin and wow, wouldn't King Bejita be thrilled to know that?

 

King Bejita opened his other eye and folded his arms. His glare would have made a typhoon shiver and creep away quietly.

 

Trunks grinned nervously when the bathroom door creaked faintly. "I see Vegeta's done."

 

"Quite right," King Bejita rumbled, sweeping past him. Pausing, he said in a dangerous voice. "This particular conversation isn't over yet. Grandson. My original question still stands.

 

"But, we shall continue inside." King Bejita went in.

 

Trunks rubbed sweaty palms on his pants as he followed, tail drooping between his legs. Super Saiyajin coward, as yellow as his flaming spikes, that was what he was.

 

Sometime during their conversation on the balcony, the servant had returned with the food. Vegeta was already seated, lifting the covers over the steaming dishes. The Saiyajins, being Saiyajins, settled themselves efficiently and were soon tucking into the food.

 

Trunks grinned, remembering how the other Ningens would insist on making small talk as they ate. The Saiyajins, and half-Saiyajins, saved their jaw movements for masticulation — there *was* a reason it was called meal-time, and not talk-time after all. People can talk anytime but when there's food, proper respect should be given and attention should be focused on food.

 

"Now. Trunks." King Bejita leaned back and bleched. "Interesting name."

 

 Trunks swallowed the last bit of his food and looked up to two determined stares. "My mother named me."

 

"Your mother is an odd woman," Vegeta commented. King Bejita snorted in amusement and Vegeta shot him a puzzled look.

 

Trunks didn't bother to hold back and laughed. "Yes. She is. She's not a Saiyajin."

 

That certainly caught their attention. Both royals eyed him closely.

 

"You were not a full... Your mother..." A vein in King Bejita's left temple started throbbing scarily. "Do go on."

 

"You look... very Saiyajin," Vegeta said carefully. "In fact, you look—"

 

"—like us." King Bejita injected bluntly. "Spill, boy."

 

"To answer your first question, I was half-Saiyajin. But due to an interesting circumstances, which I will not go into now, I am now a full-blooded Saiyajin."

 

Trunks fervently hoped King Bejita wasn't xenophobic. Or homophobic too, for that matter. "And uh... I look like... Wait. Let me backtrack a bit. First, I'm from another timeline. From the future actually, but I jumped to an alternate timeline because I didn't want interfere with my own."

 

'Because I would end up not getting born, if I got what I came back here for,' Trunks thought, lips twisting in irony. And decided not to say that just yet. One shock at a time.

 

"You jumped? Through time?" Vegeta sounded curious and calculating. He exchanged a shrewd glance with his father. "Saiyajins, from where you come from, have the ability—"

 

"Uh no. I have a time-machine. My mom built it." King Bejita perked up at that bit.  Trunks could almost imagine him thinking — ah, so the woman my son fucked....

 

Right. Let's not go into 'Vegeta' and 'fuck' in the same line right now. It was depressing and wrong he was envious of his *mother*, whom he loved but not like that, like a twisted Odepius tale. Even if she hadn't been with his father since he was born.

 

Trunks sternly reminded himself of King Bejita. *Not* a good idea to jump Vegeta in front of his overprotective father. *Worse* if that father was his grandfather. And that last thought was just so *wrong* in many ways too but Trunks was not thinking that because denial was a wonderful thing.

 

"And where I come from," Trunks continued, looking steadily at Vegeta. The last rays of the day caught the auburn highlights on Vegeta's hair and he could smell Vegeta's faint stormy-spicy scent, so much like his father's.

 

"You're my father."

 

Vegeta was speechless.

 

"But you're quite different from my father, or at least the father I know." Trunks grinned. Wide-eyed and faintly blushing was a very pretty look on Vegeta. One that he had rarely seen on his own father and a look he could certainly get used to. Fresh-sweet and slightly damp after his shower, Vegeta looked edible. Lickable.

 

"Oh," Vegeta said faintly. "Well, I guess I would be older...."

 

"No, not just that." Trunks' mirth died just as abruptly. "In my timeline, you — and another Saiyajin called Kakarrot — were the last of the Saiyajins."

 

Tersely, he told them of his father's history. His father had told him a bit here and there as he grew up, but just before he left with Mirai for space, he sat Trunks down and told him everything.

 

They were pale when Trunks told them about how Vegeta ended up under Frieza — that was perhaps the only part Trunks' father had not elaborated upon and Trunks somehow knew it had been ugly. And the two royals went utterly still when Trunks spoke of the destruction of Vegetasei.

 

"Hell. Fucking hell," Vegeta muttered as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. "That... could easily have been us. Me. I mean—"

 

"Frieza asked for Vegeta and I refused," King Bejita was livid, ruddy splotches on skin that had gone pale under his tan. He shook his head fiercely, jaw clenched. "That rogg had been hounding us for years. Now I'm even more glad I didn't cave in to his demands."

 

"And all that was left of us... " Vegeta couldn't complete his sentence and his hands kept clenching and unclenching.

 

"Radditz." Something occured to Trunks. "He was the long-haired guy you were helping up the steps just now?"

 

"Yes," Vegeta gave a weak smile. "I grew up with him. Sort of stands to reason he would have been with me when...."

 

"Close friend?" Trunks couldn't help but ask.

 

"Yeah." Vegeta didn't pick up on the undercurrent of jealousy but King Bejita shot him a sharp look.

 

"You've never met Radditz? What happened to him?" King Bejita asked.

 

"No. He was killed before I was born," Trunks said, suddenly *seeing* what his father had told him about how he first came to Earth in a different light as he re-told the story. Dad could be merciless and the dispassionate way he killed Nappa hadn't really shocked Trunks. But what if Dad came all the way to Earth not only because of the dragonballs, but also because Kakarrot had killed Radditz...

 

Trunks resolved to keep a close eye on Radditz. For such a close friend that Dad had *grown* up with, he certainly had been close-mouthed about details.

 

"Kakarrot." King Bejita pondered. "I don't believe I've heard that name before, but it sounds Saiyajin."

 

"Radditz' and Turles’ younger brother. Sent to Earth when he was a baby," Vegeta supplied the names of his personal guards helpfully. Trunks’ eyes widened at that extra bit of information.

 

"Tell us more about Super Saiyajin," Vegeta said, impatience rushing his words. His eyes shone as he leaned forward, tone wistful. “So the legend *is* true.”

 

Trunks remembered, not what, but *how* his father had spoke when he talked about the Super Saiyajin. Trunks had always wanted to be one because his father was one; simple childhood hero-worship, but for Dad, it was an obsession. Every time his father ascended, his eyes would still light up, proud and delighted. The thrill never wore off.

 

Trunks smiled as he thought about what to say, glad for a change to a more upbeat topic. Seeing as how excited Vegeta was, he really couldn't find the heart to tell Vegeta that he — that is, his alternate time-line self — was not the first to ascend. Anyway, second was almost like first, no?

 

He could practically hear Dad's growl at *that*.

 

“Yes, it’s true. We — that is my father and I, Kakarrot and his two sons, were all Super Saiyajins,” Trunks hoped Vegeta wouldn’t ask just how his alternate self ascended. “Really hard training, control and use of emotions. It’s … it’s like releasing this core potential within you. The first transformation is usually the hardest and for my father and Kakarrot, their first transformation occurred during life-threatening situations.”

 

“How?” Vegeta muttered, frowning. “We all go through life-threatening situations all the time.”

 

“You have to attain at least some level fitness first, strength and endurance and discipline of the body, and beyond that…” Trunks shrugged. “You have to be really, really desperate, knowing that you may just die and you’ve nothing to lose, but you’re going to try… I’m not explaining it well, sorry. I’m not too sure myself.” He flushed slightly.

 

“What kind of situations?” King Bejita asked thoughfully.

 

“My father was training on a remote planet when a metor storm hit, threatening to wreak his space-ship and only way off the planet. Kakarrot…” Trunks faltered briefly. “It was in a fight against Frieza.”

 

“So I wasn’t the one who killed him?” Vegeta scowled in disappointment.

 

“Eh, well, Kakarrot didn’t exactly kill him either.” Trunks rubbed the back of his head in an unconsious ‘Son Goku’ gesture as he thought of the Earth-raised Saiyajin. “Frieza came back, looking like a patchwork tin-can with all his replacement parts, and my future self came back in time to finish him.”

 

Vegeta’s and King Bejita’s brows both went up again. “You all do a lot of time-travelling, don’t you?” Vegeta commented dryly.

 

“And that’s a very long story,” Trunks laughed ruefully.

 

“How did you change?” Vegeta asked. The teenage prince was really fixated on the thought of Super Saiyajin.

 

Trunks had to stop and muse, and something struck him. “You know, I’ve never really thought about that. The first time I changed was in a training session, and for the other two demi-Saiyajins — Kakarrot’s sons — it was the same for them as well. Maybe the difference was that we *knew* that Super Saiyajin was possible. In fact, by the time Goten and I could walk and hence start training, our fathers and Goten’s older brother were Super Saiyajins. In a way, we took it for granted that we would be too. Our training was all geared towards that goal in mind, and Goten and I ascended when we were about eight years old.”

 

“So young.” King Bejita was impressed.

 

“One of the wild theories Mom was tossing about was that it might have something to do with the fact that we three were not full Saiyajin. Certainly we were more powerful than either of our fathers when they were our age,” Trunks said, lips quirking. “Then again, three is hardly a significant sample size. She also thought maybe the fact that both our fathers were already Super Saiyajin when Goten and I were conceived might be a factor too.”

 

“Super sperm,” Vegeta deadpanned. Trunks roared in laughter and King Bejita rolled his eyes.

 

“What’s the key in the transformation?” Vegeta pressed on, eyes alight with curiosity.

 

“Hmm… Like I said earlier, it’s like tapping into this well within yourself,” Trunks struggled to find the words. “Have you ever felt that you could do better? That just when you think that you’ve exhausted…”

 

And the conversation went on late into the night, swinging between Super Saiyajin and Frieza and time travel, and even topics like the type of food found on Earth. The thick candles had burned down to stubs when King Bejita called a halt after Vegeta’s third yawn.

 

“I’m all right,” Vegeta insisted, even though his eyes were reddish and drooping in fatigue.

 

“Nonesense. You’ve just returned from a three-day battle.” King Bejita stood up and looked sternly at Trunks. “Come. I’ll show you to your room. We can continue tommorrow.”

 

Trunks quickly looked away from Vegeta, a faintly guilty expression on his face like he had been caught dipping into the cookie jar. Even though he had been staring surreptiously at Vegeta all night, he *had* forgotten that Vegeta was exhausted — he had been so excited. Apologizing to Vegeta a bit shamefully, he hurried got up. King Bejita stepped outside and called for somebody to clear the dishes.

 

“Do you have any luggage?” Vegeta asked, looking curiously at Trunks. “Did you bring anything?”

 

Two guards came in and quietly and efficiently removed the dishes, one of them even taking out a rag and wiping the table. Both gaped openly at Trunks as they worked.

 

The time-traveller winked at Vegeta and patted his pockets. “Of course I did. All shrunk and capsuled.” He noticed that King Bejita was momentarily occupied and he took the chance to stand a little closer to Vegeta, smiling charmingly and flirting as openly as he dared with King Bejita just a few steps away.

 

The gods must be against him — he had met Vegeta soon after his arrival but till now, he still could *not* find a moment alone with the other prince! King Bejita kept leveling disconcerting looks at him all night and dammit, how was he going to woo Vegeta like this?! Trunks glanced over to the open dooway. It’s really not a good time; King Bejita could turn at any time.

 

Vegeta blinked in confusion, but before Trunks could say anything, King Bejita came over, almost growling in his annoyance. The guards had already left. “Didn’t I say *tommorrow*?”  

 

“Yes, yes I’m coming.” Trunks smiled tiredly at Vegeta. His eyes caught Vegeta’s and he watched as faint color crept across Vegeta’s cheeks. His smile became warmer. “Good night, Vegeta.”

 

He dipped his head in defeat and followed his grandfather out, tail drooping.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Tbc...

 

 

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