A Song-fic. Confusing and not lemony (for once). (10/10/2002)
The same events from Vegeta’s POV, his thoughts are bordered
by tilde’s ~
His world was reduced to just him and an imaginary opponent.
The trees towering over the clearing in the backyard bled into a blur of greens
and browns, yet he could see clearly each individual blade of grass that lay
within his immediate field of vision. Time seem to speed up, and then stand
still at odd moments; the blade he held in his hand was a flash of quicksilver
that twirled in and out of his sight as he kept his gaze focused in front of
him, yet as he brought it slicing forward, it was as if the sword slowed down
and he could make out every small nick, every scratch on the worn practice blade.
Concentrating on keeping his breathing even and deep, he
relished in the burn of the muscles in his arms and upper back as he swung the
weapon, the strain in his legs as he leapt about nimbly, flexing and relaxing countless
times within a second. The heavy heft of the blade of the blade, the cool draft
of the air as it wicked away the moisture on his sweat-slicked skin, the
rushing sound of the wind in his ears and his heartbeat thudding loudly in his
ears, the fresh, green scent that wafted from the trampled grass beneath his
feet; these sensations were real, tangible…definitive. Unlike the roiling
turmoil of emotions within him. Resolutely, he focused on the physical
awareness of the moment now, blanking out anything else that might eat
away at his attention.
His vision blurred, and then refocused. The scene changed;
in his mind’s eye, he could see his old weapons master, agate eyes narrowed in
cold concentration as he put a pre-adolescent prince through his paces. A harsh
task-master, who had the even harsher responsibility of making sure his young
charge learned quickly and well enough to stay alive, and that included
teaching him not only barehanded fighting but also weaponry.
As the young prince became older and stronger, swordplay
took a backseat to the other martial arts, as his own ki-wrappped fists became
stronger than any metallic alloy, the edge of his palm serving well as the keen
edge of a blade. Now, as he came full-circle and picked up the blade again,
weaponry training was simply appreciated as another fine art-form, where one
learnt and practiced just for the sake of doing so.
As the kata drew to a close, memories receded and he
gradually became aware of the present again. Along with his problems. Heaving a
silent sigh, he stepped towards the scabbard on the grass and picked up the
soft cloth lying beside it. As he cleaned the blade, Vegeta felt the younger
Saiyan approach.
Well-built arms wrapped around his waist as the larger
warrior embraced him, rubbing his nose lightly against his hair. Vegeta kept
his attention on his sword; he could tell that the other was tensed. And he
knew what Kakarrot would say. He was not blind, nor was he stupid. He had seen
the growing tension in the younger lately; he had heard the whispered words at
night.
~ Don’t say it… ~ He winced inwardly.
“Koi…Aishiteru.”
~ Shimatta… ~ His hand stilled as he gritted his jaw.
Slowly, he resumed the menial task.
~ Say something, do anything! ~ But he couldn’t. He could feel
the oppressive weight of the other’s expectation pressing heavily on him, and
it frustrated and angered him.
Kakarrot kept quiet as he picked up the scabbard and slid
the blade in, his eyes fixed on his sword, his mind numb. The ouji was intensely
aware of the other’s apprehension and presence, yet he couldn’t bring himself
to face the younger Saiyan. His lover.
~ Coward. ~ He sneered at himself.
Vegeta’s only desire was to escape out of the uncomfortable
situation; he knew he was being ignobly craven about it all, but he just
couldn’t seem to face the brawny male at that moment. He just wasn’t’ …ready.
He had stared at death in the face countless times but he couldn’t face his own
lover.
He was about to turn back towards the house when a light
touch on his arm stopped him. Vegeta couldn’t help it; his tail bristled and
curled about his waist in a defensive action.
“Vegeta… Do you…?”
He winced again at hearing the slight quiver in the other’s voice.
Shimatta…why was that baka affecting him so? He didn’t love him…didn’t
he?
~ So just say it, why are you hesitating? He asked and
you’ve never shielded away from the truth before. Why do you care? Weakling. ~
He sneered at himself, at the male in front of him, but it was half-hearted.
Vegeta opened his mouth, only to shut it again. ~ I..I
can’t. ~ He couldn’t explain it; it had torn at him to see the anguished,
desperate expression Kakarrot’s face, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say
those words he knew what the other wanted to hear. He couldn’t lie, yet
he couldn’t tell the truth either.
Yet… Was it the truth? He was caught up in a maelstrom of
confused emotions. He almost wished he loved the younger Saiyan, just so he
would not have to see the hurt on the other’s normally happy countenance… But
he wasn’t. Was he? Wouldn’t he know if he was? His gaze locked with the
other’s, hope painfully evident in those shining eyes.
~ I just can’t… ~
Vegeta’s mind spun and finally, he took the easiest way out.
He feigned ignorance, hoping that the other would just leave him be. “Do I
what?” He was surprised; his voice actually came out collected and calm.
He felt Kakarrot recoil, cheeks reddening, then blanching
before dropping his hand and gaze. And the Saiyan no Ouji felt like the dirt
under his boots. “Nothing… Nothing at all.” The taller male quickly turned and
walked back into the house.
~ Kuso! Okubyoumono! ~ Vegeta swore at himself. Yet he
couldn’t bring himself to say anything or step towards the younger. Spinning
about on the balls of his feet, he flared his ki and fled.
What kind of fool am I, who never
fell in love?
It seems that I’m the only one that
I have been thinkin’ of!
Vegeta
cursed blisteringly as he ran away. Yes, that was what he was doing. Running
away like a craven knave…he, who was a warrior prince. Rather than face the one
he had always called a baka.
~ I’m not
running… I just need time away from that baka. I am the Saiyan no Ouji! I do
not need to explain my actions! ~
He snorted
derisively. Pathetic. He was pathetic.
He didn’t
love the other; he didn’t believe in it, he didn’t believe he could even if
that so-called emotion exists. He knew himself; he was hardly the mushy, loving
type. Yet… If that were the case, why was he so affected? Two years ago, he
wouldn’t have bothered; he wouldn’t have cared. His mood swung from guilt to
anger and Vegeta scowled angrily.
~ Shimatta…
How dared he expect that from me?! And why should I care?! ~ A scream of
frustration tore from his throat as he sped on.
Caught up
in his thoughts, he was suddenly aware of the direction his flight path had
been unconsciously taking – towards Capsule Corps; a familiar reflex. And he was
suddenly, extremely aware of the fact that he was still sticky and sweaty. He
took a few deep breaths and relaxed; his sudden burst of exertion had helped
calmed him somewhat. Touching down in the balcony of a familiar room, he slid
open the glass doors and strode in. Glancing around, he noticed that nobody had
touched their bedroom since he moved out. Bulma’s stuff had mostly been packed
away after her passing but small reminders still lay around. Her brush. A small
glass bottle of her favorite perfume. Vegeta laughed softly as he picked up the
delicate glass, remembering how he used to insult her over that, saying that
she needed to cover up her own body odor. In truth, it was just because his
keener nose could not stand the overwhelming artificial scents that the Ningens
like to pile upon themselves. Her natural scent was nice, if a little weak.
Though Kakarrot’s natural musk was far stronger and more appealing.
Kakarrot…
He placed
the small bottle back down at that reminder of his current problem, his sudden
humor gone. Shaking his head, he checked the wardrobe. Yes, some of his old
clothes were still hanging inside. He eyed the torn and extremely worn jeans on
the hanger. Well, that faded gray-indigo jeans was better than the awful yellow
pants beside it. Turning around, he stripped as he walked towards the bathroom.
Vegeta
emerged from the steaming bathroom feeling refreshed but no clearer-headed than
before he entered. Not bothering to look for a towel, he dried himself with a
flare of his ki and pulling on the ripped jeans. Rummaging further, he found a
decent navy sweater as well. His stomach growled and raking his fingers through
his mussed and slightly damp hair, he made his way to the kitchen.
“Niiiice
rip, dad…” A deep voice chuckled behind him as Vegeta was bent over, digging in
the large fridge. An arm reached around him to snag a can of iced tea. The ouji
grunted and finally emerged, his arms full of cold leftovers. The two sat in
easy silence, the son occasionally stealing his father’s sandwiches.
“Ok, dad.
What’s up?” Trunks finally spoke up. His normally observant father would not
have let the theft of his food go unpunished. He had emerged from his lab to
take a break and to his surprise, felt his father’s ki in the kitchen. Vegeta
hardly ever dropped by ‘just for fun’, so something must be wrong.
“Nothing,
boy.” Vegeta grunted.
The grown
demi-Saiyan eyed his dour parent doubtfully. “Did you have a fight with Goku?”
He knew that the two older males had been keeping company and he thought it was
rather sweet.
Vegeta
paused in mid-chew. “No.” But the twitching in his eye and strained tone gave
him away. Trunks also noted the lashing of the auburn bristling tail behind his
father and wisely decided to not press the issue further. Rolling his eyes, he
drained the remainder of his drink, tossed the can across the room to land
neatly in the bin and was about to stand up when his father suddenly spoke up.
“How do you
know that you love that older spawn of Kakarrot?”
The lavender
haired prince sat back down with an awkward thump at the unexpected question.
“Uhh…well…” Blinking rapidly, he gathered his thoughts and cast his mind back.
“I guess it started after I broke up with Pan. I was depressed and so I
immersed myself in a new research project. I ran into some calculation
problems, so I approached Gohan for help, and somehow we ended up spending a
lot of time together. When that project was completed, I suddenly realized that
we worked well together and so we came up with another research collaboration.
Actually, I didn’t realize it then, but now I know I suggested it just so I
could have an excuse to be near him. One thing led to another, and we found
ourselves spending a lot of time together and not on the excuse of work either.”
“But is it
that love; that everyone talks about? You spend a lot of time with Goten
as well, heck, you two were inseparable as kids. Do you …love Goten?” Normally
straightforward and frank, Vegeta found it uncomfortable to talk about that
elusive emotion though.
“Oh no.”
Trunks threw back his head with a laugh. “Kami… You won’t believe how many
people think that we must be lovers because of the amount of time we
spend together, and because we grew up from young together, and how perfect we
are together. But I’ve always viewed Goten as a brother, never a lover. What I
feel for Goten and what I feel for Gohan are totally different… I mean, I love
Goten as a brother greatly, but it’s not the same. I..I can’t explain it.”
Vegeta
leaned back, crossing his arms as he watched his son get all dreamy-eyed. “I
just wanted to be around Gohan all the time, I couldn’t stop thinking about him
when we are apart. I had never felt anything so intense, not even with Pan.
Small things he do can make me so deliriously happy.” Vegeta choked, suddenly
reminded of the little stuff Kakarrot was always doing for him, little gestures
that gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling and made him feel …nice. Cared for. Loved.
He swallowed guilty, remembering the look on his lover’s face that morning.
“Sounds
like those sappy songs Kakarrot likes to listen to on the radio.” The still
skeptical ouji remarked gruffly.
Trunks gave
a barking laugh. “It isn’t all sugar and spice, dad. There were times when we would
get so mad at each other…” He eyed the faint scorch mark on the ceiling
ruefully; a reminder of their last blow-up. Literally. A few coats of paint
hadn’t managed to cover the aftermath completely. “It’s like, somehow he just
manages to trigger all of my buttons. If it was anybody else, I would have
simply told the baka to fuck off or I would have walked away, but with Gohan… I
just can’t. I would get so mad at him, then I would feel bad for getting mad at
him, then I would feel mad at myself for allowing myself to feel guilty,
and at the time I would feel mad at him for putting me on this guilt trip even
though it’s not actually his fault…”
Vegeta
widened his eyes in shock. Kami… It sounded too eerily like what he was going
through. Kakarrot could always do that to him. Only Kakarrot…
“Yet,
somehow, even after the worst fights, I just can’t leave him. Oh, I may even
actually leave, but after a few days, after I cool down…” His lips twitched in
a quirky smile. Trunks wondered if that was what was happening between his
father and Goku. It would certainly explain his father’s sudden appearance at
the CC and his odd behavior. “Why do you ask, dad?”
Vegeta
grunted, not wishing to speak about something. Scowling, he avoided his son’s
searching look and stared instead at the white and silver cabinets that lined
the kitchen walls in stony silence. He cannot believe that he was actually
seated in his son’s kitchen, asking his son for advice on love.
~ What the
hell? I just came here to get away from Kakarrot and to bathe… ~
“Ano…dad…don’t
worry too much. I’m sure whatever is the problem between you and Goku, it can’t
be that bad.”
Vegeta eyed
his son balefully. What does that brat know? Trunks smirked and crossed his
arms, settling back in his chair and looking just like his father’s son. “I
mean; I can see that the two of you really love each other…”
“Nani?!”
The ouji’s outraged question interrupted the younger man. “What do you mean by
that?”
“C’mon dad…
I know your personality. You wouldn’t have stayed with Goku and put up with him
for so long if you didn’t love him. Don’t you?” Trunks’ expression became
challenging. Damn, that boy was developing balls.
“No. We’re
just together for the sex.” Vegeta grinned wolfishly. “The sex’s great.”
“No way.”
Trunks snorted. “I can believe if you can fuck a person; a complete stranger or
even someone you hate, for a night or few, but to live with somebody intimately
for so long…”
Vegeta had
no snappy retort to that and he narrowed his eyes. What his son said made
sense, yet … wouldn’t he know if he were in love? Finally he rasped out.
“I don’t believe I could love. Not in the way he expects from me.”
Trunks
shook his head. “Then he has no right to expect that from you.”
What kind of man is this, an empty
shell?
A lonely cell in which an empty
heart must dwell!
Vegeta
touched down outside their cabin softly, deep in thought. Turning over what his
son said. Wondering what to do next. Feeling lost. Stepping through the front door,
he paused. The late afternoon sun glided an oblong on the worn wooden floor and
his breath caught as he took in the scene; his brawny handsome lover was curled
up on the couch with an opened magazine, the warm amber light highlighting the
deep indigo glints in his wild hair. Kakarrot looked up at his entrance, a
flash of question and hurt in his eyes before he turned back to his magazine.
Vegeta felt
a sudden yearning to run his hands through those mussed spikes, to wrap his
arms around his dark-eyed lover and apologize. Soothe away that hurt look. But
pride and something else held him back. Uncertainty? Doubt? He swallowed
nervously, the words getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he decided to
apologize the only way he knew and padded softly towards the younger.
“Kakarrot.”
~ Look at
me… ~
Vegeta sat
down on the couch and leaned in against the larger warrior, hugging him and he
bent forward to whisper into the other’s ear. “Kakarrot…”
~ I’m
sorry… ~
What kind of lips are these, that
lied with every kiss?
That whispered empty words of love
that left me alone like this?
Vegeta
purred contentedly as he lay entwined with his burly lover. The earlier
awkwardness of the morn seemed to have disappeared, leaving a tranquil
calmness. All was well.
“Hey…Geta?”
Vegeta
yawned and stretched languidly, his purr increasing in volume. “Nani?”
“Where did
you go today?”
Ohhh…that
felt good. “Uhhh…” He twisted his body yet some more, feeling stiff joints
crack and pop with a satisfaction. “Nowhere…”
“Koi…about
this morning…”
Vegeta
turned over to face his lover, wondering amusedly why Kakarrot just couldn’t
keep quiet after sex. Mmmm…he closed his eyes with a smile, feeling a craving for
the other’s sweet taste again. Sliding his hand around the back of the other’s
head to sink into the mussed ebon spikes, he slanted his head over the other’s
swollen, inviting lips.
Suddenly,
hands shoved him roughly back with a snarl. Vegeta caught himself and snapped
his eyes open with a low growl of anger. ~ What the fuck…? ~
His sudden
rage faltered into surprise at the normally placid Saiyan’s expression. “Shit,
Vegeta! Listen to me!” Blinking in stunned shock, he did just that.
“Is that all I am to you? A good fuck?” Kakarrot stood up, his face livid. “Is this what this relationship is all about? Only sex?” He spread his arms wide as he paced. “Why don’t you ever take me seriously? Did you just think you can kiss me and I would shut up? That I would just forget what I was going to say?”
Vegeta’s
initial hot flash of anger settled into a cold rage. Met with angry
accusations, his instinctive reaction was to set up his own defensive barriers
and counter with his own mental arguments. ~ No, you’re not only a good fuck to
me. Why do you think I had stayed with you, all these time? But dammit you
low-class baka, I have lowered myself to come back to you and apologized. How
dare you presume? Do I have to explain every second I spend away from you? You
are not my keeper! ~ His mind spun with numerous furious retorts but what
finally came out was an icy statement. He felt a sudden urge to punch the other
and crossed his arms.
“We have agreed that it is only sex, baka!”
The younger flinched at his harsh tone and whispered. “Then when you asked me to stay with you…”
~ Kisama!
Why am I explaining myself to you? I say what I want, I do what I wish. ~ The
prince pursed his lips in an angry, thin line. He hardened his feelings further
behind a façade of icy indifference and threw discretion to the winds. “It is
simply more convenient.”
He regretted his cold words as soon as they left his mouth. His defensive anger died at the anguished look on Kakarrot’s face. The tall fighter appeared to crumple as he rubbed his eyes and stumbled back. “Call me a third-class idiot, call me a royal fool… Baka no Kakarrot… All that I am and more, for I’ve fallen…fallen for you. You will probably laugh if you knew how long I’ve …loved you.”
~ No… I won’t. I never did. I..I ~ Vegeta bit his lip painfully as he stood in tensed silence, his arms crossed tightly. The other’s raw emotions assailed him and he didn’t know what to do, what to say.
“I thought I could hide it, I thought maybe I could be satisfied with the way things were, how we stood, but I can’t. I even hoped, that just maybe, we had something more… I know you don’t want it…some sappy messy feelings, I know that you’ve made it clear from the start, but kami-dammit, I’m the more sorry one, don’t you think?!”
~ Shit, Kakarrot… I never knew you felt that strongly, that bad… ~
“And…dammit, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t just be your casual fuck, not when you are so much more to me.” Vegeta watched in alarm as the younger Saiyan pulled on his jeans, stumbling back all the while. His sudden paralysis broken, he stepped forward and reached out a hand tentatively, only to be halted again by the raw, anguished sound from the other’s throat. “Kakarrot…”
“Forget it, Vegeta. Just forget it. I..I need to leave.”
“Kakarrot!” He lunged forward but the younger male was gone.
“SHIIIIIT!” Vegeta fell to his knees, his fist pounding on the floor in helpless rage, an impressive litany of curses running through his head. ~ What the hell just happened?? ~
Rage at himself, at his careless words. ~ How could I have said that, when it wasn’t true?! ~
Rage at Kakarrot for over-reacting. ~ That baka! Didn’t he know I didn’t mean it? Didn’t he know what I was trying to say when I came back today? ~
Vegeta pulled himself from his kneeling position and sank back against a wall; his eyes sliding close as his thoughts whirled and his stomach twisted painfully. He felt confused, lost. He had somehow hoped that maybe if he ignored the problem, it would go away. Instead, it festered and now burst like a fetid wound in his face. A bitter laugh slipped out. When had he been so blind? When had he become such a coward?
He had always set himself apart from the ‘softer’ emotions; he had been taught and he had learnt that they were weakness for a warrior. Rage fueled one’s battle lust but when one cares for somebody else, it becomes a weak link in one’s defenses. Having lost his family, his home, everything, at a young age, he had learnt to distance himself as a means of retaining his sanity. A warrior’s life was fast and harsh and possibly fleeting. At the same time, emotions can be irrational, trying, dangerous… They distract and detract, something likely to be fatal for a fighter. And so he had hid them behind a cold, thorny barrier, verbal jabs and sarcastic taunts, and an unapproachable, untouchable royal haughtiness.
But it was too late to blame and regret now. Only after he had lost something so very precious…
He wished he felt numb. He wished he felt as confident and sure of what he knew, what he wanted a day ago. No, that was not right; he didn’t know what he wanted since…since Kakarrot moved in and re-arranged more than the stuff in his cabin. He wished he had never allowed Kakarrot in, yet he knew he wouldn’t, he couldn’t word that wish even if the dragonballs were all assembled in front of him.
Hell… In his mind, all he could see was Kakarrot’s face, his hurt look…
He felt ill and he felt a headache to match the wrenching tightness in his gut coming on. Vegeta groaned and raised a hand to rub at the growing tension between his brows.
Was Kakarrot worth their differences? They were both of the Saiyan race but they were not alike. They will never be alike. There will always be this chasm between them. Yet without him, already he felt this void gaping within… What an irony.
Was Kakarrot worth his pride, his habits that made him? ~ I can’t give him what he wants… I’m me. I’m not just a Saiyan, I’m the Saiyan no Ouji. I’m Vegeta. I’m not going to crawl to him…and, kuso…why should I care? ~
Was Kakarrot the one? ~ Can he give me what I want? Hn. What do I want? ~
He recalled the great battles they had, the major events of their lives. His death. Kakarrot’s death. That was no surprise; what shocked him was also the way he could easily remember all the little, trivial facts about the younger, the way he always tied his blue sash left over right, the way he always pulled his right boot on first, how he always liked to sleep on the left hand side of their bed, his fondness for Chunky Monkey ice-cream…
His son’s words echoed in his mind. “You wouldn’t have stayed with Goku and put up with him for so long if you didn’t love him. Don’t you?”
~ Kakarrot.
~ He did not know if he truly loved the other male; emotions like these were
alien and awkward for him, but…
~ You
challenge me, fascinate me. You make me feel needed, strange, happy,
angry…alive. You evoke emotions in me that no one else does. I was a fool not
to acknowledge it. And I would be a greater fool not to do something about it.
~
He was a
prince; he had always expected, he had always taken what he deemed was his by
right. Yet he was also a prince with responsibilities. And the least he should
do was to retract his hasty, harsh words.
The ouji
opened his eyes, a determined conviction shining in them, his lips curling
slightly as his heart lifted. ~ It’s very simple really. All my life, I’ve
always gone for what I want, fought for what I want… And dammit, I want you. ~
Why can’t I fall in love like any
other man?
And maybe then I’ll know what kind
of fool I am!
Vegeta touched
down softly outside the simple cottage; Kakarrot’s old house, before he had
moved in with the prince. He could feel the younger Saiyan’s familiar ki
inside, and though he had already gone over what he would do, what he would
say, he still felt a flicker of …apprehension?
Steeling himself,
Vegeta was about to enter; he never knocked, when the front door opened.
Why can’t I fall in love like any
other man?
And maybe then I’ll know what kind
of fool I am!
-----
A/N: This is probably the odd song out of the Jazz series.
It is titled “What Kind of Fool Am I?” from the 1961 stage musical “Stop the
World I Want to Get Off”. Music by Leslie Bricusse and lyrics by Anthony
Newley.
Okubyoumono: coward
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