More of Us
5
xmlns="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40">
More Of Us
Card
Notes: Slash. M/M.
Oh, and I don’t own them.
~~~~~*
The
more he thought about it, the angrier Vegeta was. How dare that third-class baka make him feel so badly for doing
something that werfeerfectly in his right to do! As Prince it was at his discretion to either oblige the needs of
his subjects or execute them for it. He
had done nothing wrong. Kakarot was
more than old enough to understand what he was doing. Except he hadn’t, Vegeta bit back the thought but it rose
again, because he asked you more than once what was happening.
things? Why was Vegeta the one that was
supposed to take responsibility?
Because you are the Prince.
Then, Goku was
r the there, in front of him. “You
attacked Bulma.” Vegeta heard the
words, and the anger that lingered behind them. But more than that, he felt the ki signals nestled inside the
impossible strong ki that Kakarot always emanated. Three.
Vegeta fought
down the urge to embrace Kakarot, bit off the words of comfort that were
instinctual, and gave the man a dead stare.
“She questioned my honor.”
And Kakarot
actually punched him. Just like
that. No warning, just a reflex of
anger, and then the taller Saiyan stood there and frowned at him.
“Saiyan honor!”
He screamed back and punched at Kakarot.
The punch was deflected, but the kick landed hard against his ribs.
smashed against Vegeta. He growled,
fought back to his feet and faced Kakarot again.
Goku was
grinning from ear to ear, one of his hands was pressed against hiist,ist, and
the other was still curled into a fist.
“Did you feel that ‘Geta? They
kicked!”
Vegeta wiped the
blood off his chin and refused to answer Kakarot’s question.
“Wow.” Goku
whispered. “Do all Saiyans do
that?” He scratched the back of his
head again. “I’m hungry,” he said, and
then he looked at Vegeta again. “I’m going
to go get something to eat.” He reached
out and grabbed Vegeta by the hair.
“You’re going to go apologize.”
tried to pry the fingers out of his hair, but when he touched Kakarot’s fingers
something burned him, and he was faced with the unpleasant decision between
pulling away and ripping his hair out or allowing himself to be dragged through
the sky like a caveman’s unhappy woman.
Growing hair back would take too long.
Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the purring that once
again vibrated out of Kakarot’s chest and decidedly ignored the answering
trilling in his own throat.
~~~~*
Bulma
stared at the boy. There was something
very familiar about this kid. He pulled
the sword off his back and set it on the table, and then, just like he
ev
everything about her, he started making a lunch that would feed fourteen people
or three hungry Saiyans. “Your name is
Trunks?”
“Yes.”
“And
you’re from the future?”
“Yes.”
“Did
you make a wish with the Dragon Balls?”
Trunks
looked at her for a moment. This was
his mother. The woman that had raised
him, that had kept him alive all those years after Vegeta had died.
save the past from the tragedy of the future.
And as he stared at her, he realized that he hadn’t a clue who this
woman was. She was dressed, in Trunks
opinion, like a trollop. She was pretty
and young and soft. The woman he was
used to was more hardened, stronger, as if she had faced a great horror and
fought her way out of it. “No,” he said
at last. “I have a machine.”
Before
more words could be exchanged, Goku blew into the kitchen with an enraged
Prince in tow. His grin was contagious
because Bulma smiled at him, and Trunks—despite himself—was actually happier
just knowing that the legacy of Goku was not a myth. Vegeta, however, was livid.
There was a purple-black bruise on his face and his lip was bleeding.
“Now,
Vegeta,” Goku said, “Isn’t there something you would like to say?”
Vegeta
tried to pull away from the death grip on his hair, but he couldn’t, so he just
stood there for a moment. Such rage
crossed his face, and without giving an inch, he growled out: “Sorry.”
and moved towards Trunks.
“Food!”
he said happily. He took the trays from
Trunks and carried them over to the table.
Without even waiting to see if anyone else was going to eat, he began to
devour the feast.
“We’re
going to need more food,” Trunks said.
Bulma
gave Vegeta a sour look. “I’m sorry I
yelled at you,” she said tersely.
Vegeta
glared right back at her. Then he
turned to look at Goku; repressed the smile of pride that should have come
across his face as he watched his mate gorging on food.
even if there ere less than twelve hours old.
And sheer force with which they kicked when he had attempted to attack
Kakarot: amazing. Some of that strength
had to come from him.
“Vegeta,”
Bulma said, interrupting his thoughts, “This is Trunks.”
Vegeta
turned around to look at the young man standing and staring at the sheer volume
of food Goku was currently shoving into his stomach. There was something annoyingly familiar about that face.
“Trunks,”
Bulma said, “This is Vegeta.”
And
Trunks looked at him, gave him a cursory glance then looked away.
the urge to attack this stranger. After
all, the Prince of All Saiyans wasn’t exactly on anyone’s good side, and he
knew, beyond even a shadow of a doubt, that he did not have the power or the
desire to fight Goku while he was pregnant.
Saiyans were touchy, almost bipolar people by nature, but when pregnant
the mood-swings were something of fame.
Gohan
entered the kitchen, sweaty, dirty and stinking. He sniffed the air and without so much as a hello to those
gathered, he moved over to the table and started to eat.
then continued to drink a whole pot of stew.
When the feast was gone, Gohan and Goku were left sitting around a whole
table of bones, and dirty dishes.
Gohan
looked at his dad, furrowed his little eyebrows, shrugged, and then left with a
wave and an “I’m going to train more, bye!”
“Hey
Bulma,” Goku started. He twitched
nervously and his tail was wagging meekly behind him. “Do you have any more food?”
“Of
course Goku. I know how much you love
to eat.”
“Why
are you here?” Vegeta demanded from Trunks.
He waited until Kakarot had appeased at least some of his hunger before
potentially starting an argument.
“I’m
from the future,” Trunks replied, “I came back to save Goku so he can defeat
the androids.”
“What
androids?” Vegeta demanded.
“They’ll
come attack in three years.”
“So,
we just have to trust your word?”
Trunks
nodded.
“Why?”
Vegeta demanded. He crossed his arms
over his chest and stood up straight.n stn style="mso-spacerun: yes">
Then,
before any more words could be said, the giant baka started purring again.
out for him, and in response to her nice gesture, he was gracing her with a
purr. A purr that was meant ONLY for
Vegeta! A purr that should never have
been purred unless Vegeta had been the one to provide the food.
his teeth together in frustration. He
couldn’t very well storm over there and demand that he, Prince of All Saiyans,
be the one to serve Kakarot’s every need and not she, petty human.
growl in his chest, and did his best to ignore the pleased purring and the
pleasant swish, swish of a happy tail.
“When
did you get your tail back?” Bulma asked.
“Oh,”
Goku said between mouthfuls of rice, “I got it back when I used the Dragon
Balls.”
“It
was you?” Bulma demanded. “What did you
wish for? What if we need them?”
“I
wished there could be more Saiyans,” Goku said. “We won’t need them. Me
and Vegeta can defeat anything.”
“Well,”
Bulma said, “You defeated Freiza but you still blew up Namek in the process
Goku.”
Goku
wrinkled his nose. “You sound like
ChiChi, Bulma.”
“Well
someone needs to, Goku. You shouldn’t
have used those Dragon Balls. What if
you get more Saiyans as enemies?”
“That’s
not going to happen, Bulma.” Goku
stopped purring and stared at her. It
had occurred to him, naturally, that nobody really wanted there to be more
Saiyans. ChiChi had said the exact
thing to him. But he had always
considered Bulma to be his friend, to be different from ChiChi.
back at him. Implying that all Saiyans
were barbarians. Implying that they could only be enemies.
do you know that Goku?”
“Because
I’ve got more Saiyans,” Goku said. His
tail wrapped around his midsection.
“Where?”
“Inside
of me,” Goku said. “Three more.”
astounded look on Bulma’s face. She
turned to look across the room at Vegeta’s back. The short, intolerably proud, Saiyan didn’t bother to turn and
smirk at her, but she could feel it.
Because he had not been lying this morning.
“Goku…”
She paused for a moment, “You can’t have more Saiyans in you.
“I
know, Bulma. I told Vegeta the same
thing, but he was right, I’m pregnant.”
Vegeta
turned around to look at the two of them.
Bulma was staring, looking at Goku with a positively indecent amount of
interest, as if she wanted to run tests and poke him and dammit, if that woman
was really Goku’s friend she would realize how very much Goku hated needles and
wouldn’t even suggest it.
Instead
of jumping Goku and using him for science experiments, Bulma turned and looked
at Vegeta. “Well, then, Mr. Prince of
All Saiyans. What do you know about
Saiyan pregnancy?”
“Typically,”
Vegeta said, “It’s five months of sheer hell.”
Gohan
returned. “Dad,” he said as he walked
into the kitchen, “Why is the house royeroyed?”
Goku
blinked, then laughed like a moron and scratched the back of his head.
“When
did you get your tail back?” Gohan asked.
“Can I have mine back?”
“I
destroyed the house, brat,” Vegeta said, “He got his tail yesterday and no you
will not get one.” Vegeta sneered down
at Gohan when the brat glared up at him.
“Kakarot’s tail came back to accommodate his body so he could carry the
whelps safely.”
“What?”
Gohan asked.
Goku
stood up. “Vegeta.
“Whatever,
Kakarot. It is your brat.”
~~~~**
* Review! Review!*
one chapter out a day. This is just a
bonus because a lot of nice folk reviewed.
Gk: Five months of hell?
Vegeta: FIVE WHOLE MONTHS
Gk: Why? Can’t you be
pregnant?
Vegeta: Because I am the Prince.
Gk: Because you’re mean and you
won’t let me be on top?
Vegeta: * Grin* because you deserve it, Kakarot.