Understanding Love
By Reiko Narita
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Dragonball Z or any of the characters.
Warnings: Shounen Ai, GokuxVegeta, Vegeta's POV, fluff, sap
Author's Note: Vegeta reflects on his blossoming relationship with Son Goku.
As I am reading the words on the soft yellow tinted pages of this book, I find I'm not all that interested in what the words have to tell me. I see each letter, printed in black ink and I see each word in correlation to the other. However, as I look at them, I have trouble understanding what they mean. But I read them anyway, hoping to distract myself. I'm sitting comfortably on our large bed (the bed that Kakarotto and I share every night) dressed in a pair of black denim shorts (belonging to me) and one of Kakarotto's very large navy shirts he so often wears. At the moment, most of my clothes are being washed, so my larger counterpart allowed me to borrow it for the time being. I don't usually do things like this, but we had just returned from a camping trip and Kakarotto didn't give me time to finish the washing before we left. So here I am, sitting here, waiting patiently for them to finish.
I suddenly realize that no matter how hard I concentrate on this book, it won't set my mind at ease. I keep mulling over why I even accompanied Kakarotto on the trip in the first place. Living out in the woods is no problem for me and I'm quite used to it, but now that I'm sharing a "common bond" with this man, it just isn't the same. Anyway, I try my best to ignore the thought and turn my attention back to the book. Perhaps it's the choice of book that is causing the problem. Maybe I need something else, something that will surely do the job of taking me away from where I am now. Although in truth, I'm only trying to make sense of it all, so I won't have to struggle to understand it later on. But how does one make sense of love?
It's been half a year now since Kakarotto and I began living together, as lovers. The details of our…union are very clear to me and has not been forgotten once, however turbulent it was in the beginning. It was a confusing time for the both of us and quite frankly, it was a little scary, even for me. I don't think there had ever been such an outcry of emotion on my part. I was angry, depressed, frightened and happy, all at the same time and perhaps that's what worried me the most. Most people at one time or another always have a certain way of behaving more so than others. I'm usually cynical and proud, so conveying so many emotions at once made me feel as though I were about to explode from confusion. Maybe Kakarotto felt that way too. I think back to it on occasion and at times, it makes me concerned. But before I can think more on the subject, Kakarotto shows up to remind me that what I did (what we both did) was the best decision we could ever make for ourselves and each other.
Speak of the devil, here comes the simpleton now. My eyes are still glued to the pages of the book. I don't even flinch as he growls and does a belly flop onto the bed, as if he were crashing airplane. I bounce along with him on the bed until the vibrations settle, still staring into my book, unmoving and uncaring. He lies face down into the covers for a moment and finally looks up at me with that large grin of his and chuckles.
I feign my displeasure (though inside all I really want to do is smile) and keep my eyes focused on the words. He sits up on his side, his head resting in his left hand, leaning on his elbow. Even as he begins to stare at me, I pretend he isn't even in the room, not saying a word.
"What's that you're reading? You seem to be very interested in it," he says, glancing at the book and back at me. To be honest, although I am staring straight into it, I still have no idea what it is I'm reading. The whole time I've been raking my eyes over the sentences without actually reading them. This almost makes me blush from embarrassment. It would be utterly ridiculous to stare blankly at something for all this time and not know what it was. For a moment, I get my mind off of my taller counterpart and actually take in a few words on the pages to remind myself what it's really about.
"It's about martial arts." It was in fact a book on the subject of samurai, but I must have turned to a chapter on the subject of martial arts, as the illustrations depicted men in hand to hand combat. But what does Kakarotto care? The only thing I've ever seen him read is a cook book and occasionally a magazine or two.
"…I see. Are you so bored that you have to resort to reading?" He made it sound like some sort of torture. But he was right; there was nothing better I could think of. I had already completed my training for the day and lunch wasn't for an hour or so. But I decide to bark at him for the sake of being headstrong.
"Honestly, why should you care about what I'm doing, Kakarotto? I don't see you doing anything productive," I say to him in a slightly annoyed tone, though my facial expression never changes.
He raises an eyebrow, probably put off by my tone, but I act as if I don't care, which I don't. Then he grins even wider and closes his eyes.
"I could think of something that would keep us both busy," he says with a large smirk, seemingly unaffected by what I said.
My eyes keep looking at the book, not even trying to read what has been printed, but I can feel heat creeping up my face at hearing such a suggestion. However, I choose not to respond (in any way.) But yes, it's no secret that we've made love. We've done it many times in fact. I don't say this to boast, but it actually made me feel worried in the beginning. Neither of us wanted to rush things at the start of our new relationship as friends or as lovers, so we never said anything about it. The first time was rather random, but not lacking in passion. He gave his all and I did too, nothing was held back. Although it was quite sudden, it was also surprisingly slow and affectionate, never rough and frantic…and I was glad of that.
My mind is now distracted as I catch Kakarotto looking at me, or looking at my legs to be precise. The shorts I'm wearing happen to be suggestively short, but it's nothing unusual. It's summer now and it's rather warm on this particular day. Even the windows are open, to let in a breeze whenever it happens to come along. I rarely dress to tease my lover, but he has a talent for finding ways to ogle me at any given time and fueling "tainted" thoughts and ideas. I don't hold it against him. It's my fault for laying about the house with most of myself exposed.
I feel him inch closer to me, his face heading towards my thighs. I don't make single move, but I finally glance up from my book to see what he's about to do, with an uninterested expression. He wraps his right arm around both of my thighs and kisses the one nearest to him. I blink, not really knowing how I should take this.
I hate it when he does this. Even after being with him and sleeping together for almost half a year, I'm never used to his affection. He is so loving. It instantly unnerves me and I somehow manage to always melt under his touch. I think he's finally learned all the sensitive areas of my body and uses them to his advantage (although I could be wrong. There are still things we haven't tried.)
Alright, I admit it. I don't hate it when he's affectionate. In fact, I love it. But I do hate that I can't understand why it makes me feel so awkward.
"Take a minute to stop reading the book," he says to me, still kissing my legs. His tone is almost authoritative. Surprisingly I close the book, but I still keep it in my lap. When he gets this way, I can tell that a long serious discussion is in store. I am in no mood for talking, but I try to stay open.
He continues to hug and caress my legs, running his lips along them now and then. At last he opens his eyes and turns to look at me. I look back, my expression blank.
"Something is bothering you, Vegeta. Do you want to tell me about it?" he says in a serious, but caring voice. Now what can I say to that? I could say the things I usually say. One of my favorites is "The only thing that's bothering me is you." But now is not the time for that. He's genuinely concerned and I don't feel like causing a conflict (and having an argument in the heat is never good.) All I can do is try to be honest with him and to make an effort to curb my cynicism.
"I want to know…why are you like this with me?" That's no good. That kind of question will just confuse him and my tone will leave him clueless. However, I wait for any reply he has to offer me. He looks a bit thoughtful for a moment and then focuses on me. He looks into my eyes and I feel a need to look away, but don't. His eyes are so honest that he never feels the need to look away. I, on the other hand, am always hiding my feelings and emotions from him. At times I feel that when I'm a mystery to him, that's when he's most attracted to me.
"Because, I love you. I want to touch you and make you feel good, especially if you're feeling upset. Is that what's bothering you?"
I feel that I can't look at him anymore and turn away, but I give him my answer.
"Yes, slightly. I just can't understand it." I have a feeling this conversation will end badly. He appears to be a bit confused at my reply and I can't tell if I've angered him or not, but Kakarotto doesn't anger easily and I have yet to see it. He sits up and positions himself over me, making me sink back into the lush pillows. Outwardly, I don't appear affected by this, but inside, I'm a little curious as to what he will do. Kakarotto is just as much a mystery to me as I am to him, though I wouldn't admit it. And when he transforms into that being I know wholeheartedly to be the real Kakarotto, it does something to me and I see him as a completely different man.
I don't know if he's attempting to intimidate me, but I'm not some weakling and he knows this. However, now that I look at his face, he doesn't look put off.
"What I do…does it make you feel uncomfortable? Does it make you feel bad?" He asked with such…maturity, as if he already knew the answer and only wanted to hear what I had to say.
Of course it didn't bother me. I was actually feeling quite appreciative. How can I explain it in a way that even I could understand? My own statement was confusing me!
"No. It doesn't. I just want to understand why you do it." That was the most truthful answer I could muster. His gaze seems to soften a little more, his expression no longer seeming worried.
"What is there to understand?"
And I am silent. I can't answer back. He's right. All this constant thinking and worrying I've been doing has been silly and meaningless. I try to think of something to contest his question, but fail. His large palm trails down my cheek, making me blush openly at his action. It is now that I finally have the courage to speak up.
"For all of my pretending…I hope you believe me when I say, I really do…love you." It never fails. Somehow, saying "love" is never easy for me. I always have to force it out. No amount of preparation can make me say the word love so easily and so quickly. But at least I can say it and that's all the both of us really want. Kakarotto is satisfied with that and that in turn keeps me content. So, I am beginning to understand about there being nothing to understand. He does these things because he cares for me and the little gestures he does are to remind me that we do indeed share our lives and love together on a daily basis.
His lips slowly come in contact with mine and we share a sweet gentle kiss. I never tire of this type of kiss. But it still succeeds in making me blush to some extent and I whimper softly, a little startled by how cooperative I am today. Most of the time, I make Kakarotto wait and I tease and make jokes at his expense, but I think he would have me either way. He's not particular and he knows that my name-calling and teasing aren't meant to be hurtful. But right now, there is no need for pretense. I want us to share in our love in a pure and true fashion. There will be plenty of time for fooling around later. He knows why he loves me and I know why I love him. We don't get along all the time and sometimes we end up having serious arguments, but so far, we've come through alright. Now, I'm going to try and make an effort to show my affection for him too. I've done little things like giving him a quick peck on the lips when I bring him water during his training or stroke his hair while he sleeps with his head on my lap, but it's not nearly enough. I'm ashamed and that's when I want the kiss to stop. I pull away gently and Kakarotto opens his eyes, seeming disappointed.
"Something wrong?" he asks me. I blink for a minute and look him straight in the eye.
"No. There's nothing wrong. I was only thinking…this is no ordinary love, so I shouldn't treat it that way." I let my hand travel through his hair, taking a moment to brush his bangs out of the way so I can see all of his face. Then I let it travel down, stroking his cheek, and finally let my finger run over his lip. He has the glint in his eye, the glint that tells me he wants to take my finger into his mouth or something else of that nature, but he doesn't. What I'm doing now is showing affection, not giving him an invitation to start groping me. We just exist now and we are basking in pure love, so I think he knows not to spoil such a moment. I stop rubbing my finger over his lip. He then wraps his arms around me and begins planting kisses on my neck, it and the upper portion of my chest exposed, thanks to Kakarotto's oversized shirt. I think it's safe to assume that he might want to start another spontaneous love-making session, but the kisses he gives me are gentle, not intense.
I let him do what he pleases, not bothering to protest. Frankly, I like the feeling his kisses are creating. My breathing is becoming ever so slightly fevered, but I keep calm. Then Kakarotto suddenly stops and stares at me again, our noses only an inch or two apart. He has such an adoring expression that I automatically smile. Not smirk, but smile. There's no use trying to hide the way I feel now. At first, he looks at me in alarm, not used to seeing me with such an honest and warm expression. His surprise only makes me smile more and in turn, it makes him smile.
We are just a couple of smiling fools at this point, yet I actually don't mind. Both of us are feeling blissful so why not show it? From the look of his face, I can tell he is debating whether or not to start undressing me. I don't care anymore and if that's what he wants to do, I won't resist or start whining (not now anyway.) Kakarotto is now making what I like to call the "suspicious" face. He is expecting me to make some kind of protest. I roll my eyes and decide to oblige him, though I don't mean any of it.
"Isn't it time for lunch? And I'm sure the clothes are washed by now," I say in a soft voice. I blush and wear a shy smile. In truth, I'm not hungry nor do I feel like tending to tedious chores. But I ask anyway, knowing that he'll probably want me to prepare something for him.
"I already ate and the clothes aren't going anywhere." It's a nice response, I'll give him that. Neither of us care if it's the truth or a lie. All I can do is smile and this new smile prompts him to embrace me and our lips lock once more, imploring me to stop trying to understand everything.