After cleaning up the annoying plastic sheets off the floor, we lay down in our respective beds in silence. I had never considered getting a tattoo before, because it just seemed stupid, but now that I see the appeal, I kind of want one as soon as we leave.

"Vegeta?"

I close my eyes and put my arms behind my head, "Yeah?"

"Why did you get in bed with me last night?" He sounds nervous, like he's not sure if I would want to talk about it.

"I don't know, I just felt like it. Is it a problem?" I try really hard to not sound harsh, but I'm not sure how well it works out.

"No, it just gets me confused." He says quietly, trailing off almost scared.

I sit up, "What do you mean confused?"

"I don't know, Vegeta, forget I said anything, sorry," His voice sounds muffled, probably through his hands.

I sigh and hop out of bed, sticking my head between his curtains, "No, Kakarot, tell me." He's stuffed a pillow over his face, just the sharp points of his hair sticking out all over.

"It's just that I think I like you," He pauses, "It scares me. I really don't want to like you."

In an attempt to be comforting, I place the lightest hand possible on his shoulder and sit at the edge of the bed, "You don't have to be scared. We're friends. I thought that's what you wanted."

He removes the pillow for a second, revealing a blotchy pink face. "Not that kind of like, Vegeta."

I furrow my brow, not following. "What?"

He groans, sitting up. He cant seem to look me in the eye, and he looks just over my shoulder, into the abyss.

"You know how we were playing twenty questions and you asked me what the most beautiful thing I've ever seen is?"

I nod.

"And then I got all embarrassed?"

"Mhm."

"Well, originally I was going to say West City, because when I'm on Nimbus it looks so small and pretty and everything, but I couldn't say it. I couldn't say it 'cause I couldn't stop thinking about your smile."

He buries himself in his pillow again. I feel my face heat up.

His voice is fuzzy again, through the thick fluffy pillow, "It scared me, because I've never thought you were beautiful, and then I started paying attention. It was your smile first, and then it was your broken nose and then it was your hands. And it all spiraled until I looked at all of you..." He sticks only the top half of his face out, but I can see the blush reaching the tips of his ears, "And now whenever I look at you all I see is this beautiful person and I don't know if it's because we're best friends and I'm appreciating you now, or if it's something more..." He covers his face again, "Wrong."

I frown, I know he isn't sure how to describe liking another man in a romantic way, but 'wrong' is the last thing I want him to think of it as.

I gently tug the pillow from his face, looking into his eyes, "Hey, look. No matter what it is, it's not wrong, okay? You can't help the way you feel. So I'll tell you what, let's give each other some space for a while," It hurts my chest to say it, "And if you still feel like you might like like me, we can talk about it, alright?"

He nods, sucking his lips in a pout.

"Alright. Anyway, it's been a long day, Kakarot. How about you head off to sleep?"

I pat his arm lightly before leaving the canopy and going into my own.

"Vegeta?"

"Hm?"

"Are we still gonna fight?"

I laugh a little, "Of course."

"Hmm, okay. Night."

I lay down, covering myself with the blanket that still smells like him.

"Night, Kakarot."


I lay awake hours after Kakarot started snoring. I tried my best to stay calm while talking to him, but as soon as I was alone, I stated to panic.

Why am I panicking? This is what I've wanted all along. But now that it's come to fruition, there's nothing else in the universe I can think of that scares me more.

I've ignored the fact that I'm entirely infatuated with Kakarot for a long time, and now it's right in my face. It can't be ignored. I try to shove the thoughts from my brain, but nothing can calm the storm. I slip from my bed and check on Kakarot's sleeping form before going into the training area to do some yoga on my own. The mats still rest against the pillar from earlier, so I grab one up and unroll it on the polished white floor.

I stretch out into Child's pose, just to stretch out my back. With my nose to the mat I realize that this is the one Kakarot used, and I sigh.

I can never seem to get away from him.

I find myself thinking again. He doesn't want to like me. I wonder why that is. It makes me really sad, knowing that he doesn't want to. I rationalize it in my head that it really has nothing to do with me, and more to do with our wives, children, and grandchild. The whole family situation would be all messed up if we were to be together in a way that would end our marriages.

I wouldn't mind that, but apparently he would. I sigh.

Yoga isn't as relaxing to me as I thought it would be, so I roll up the mat and put it back.

Still wide awake, I pad over to the kitchen, picking slivers of plastic off the bottoms of my feet as I go.

Tossing open the fridge, I sigh. I have no appetite at the moment.

I can't exactly talk to Kakarot, considering he's been asleep for at least three hours and I was the one that suggested we keep our distance.

But I can't shake this anxiety. All of me is screaming to go and fall asleep in Kakarot's bed again, but that would be the worst idea, considering the situation at hand.

I finally give in though, slipping quietly into bed with him. I notice that he tends to sleep on his left side, so he faces the entrance. So really if I wanted to see his face I would have to go around to the other side, and that eliminates any possibility I have for a quick escape and recovery.

I sigh and settle with gazing at his muscular back. My fingers twitch, aching to trace the dip of his spine. I sigh silently to myself, knowing I could get myself in a lot of trouble if I keep this up.

I buckle down, deciding to keep my word, and give him his space to think.

I go back to my own bed. I don't sleep.


Six Months Later

Not much has happened. We kept our distance, gave each other some room.

Six months is a long time when you're constantly within arms reach of someone you so deeply wish you could hold but can't.

I have a small phone with me, just to keep track of how long we've been here.

For us, it's November. On the outside, We've been gone for only 12 hours.

It's November. I guess my 2314th birthday is coming up in a few days. My mind shifts and remembers the boxed cake in the pantry. I also remember that I have absolutely no idea what Kakarot's birthday is. I guess I tend to avoid that topic.

All of me wants to tell him. He would be the only person to ever know of my immortality that wasn't hired to shelter me.

The past few months have been strange. We've agreed to keep our distance, but it seems to have amplified how we see each other. I notice the slightest bits of movement from him, and it's almost like he stares at me when he thinks I'm not looking. I've noticed that he cracks his knuckles a lot. He also tends to play with the edges of his clothes when he's bored, almost like a nervous tick.

"Hey, Vegeta."

"Hm?"

"Let's get thrashed," He pops in my canopy, holding two light amber glass bottles.

"Excuse me?" I sit up, still groggy from sleeping in. "It's like noon Kakarot."

"And? There's no one here to tell us we can't. I found these in the pantry and figured we deserve a break from ignoring each other," He hands me a bottle.

"Kakarot, this is rum. You know, for cooking?"

He scoffs, tossing a free hand in the air, "As if either of us know how to cook with rum. C'mon, let's go." He grabs my hand, yanking me from my bed.

I've only seen Kakarot drunk a few times, and I have to admit, it is very entertaining.

I sit at the breakfast table with him, cracking and unscrewing the cap to my bottle. The more I look at Kakarot giggling himself silly before he's even drunk, the more I wish we were talking. The more I wish I hadn't suggested keeping to ourselves.

His cheeks are already rosy, he hasn't even made it past the neck of the bottle.

As I drink, things slowly but surely become fuzzy around the edges. Kakarot never seems to stop laughing. Between giggles and full-on fits of roaring laughter we find our bellies sore and happy.

Through all the alcohol I get the nagging urge to eat something. I glance at the fridge every few seconds, and Kakarot catches on quickly. Despite our bottles both almost being gone, we're only a bit tipsy, a little stumbley, and very very happy.

He searches the pantry while I scour the fridge. Although I'm hungry, I find nothing of interest. Turning toward Kakarot, I see a box in his hands as he smiles at me.

"Let's make cake!"

I roll my eyes, bracing myself nonchalantly against the counter. "But I'm hungry now! Cake takes hours to make, doesn't it?"

He nods, still smiling. "Yeah, but it's dessert. We can have it later. There's lots of cans of," He inspects the cans he left behind, "Pasta? It looks like pasta."

I down the rest of my bottle, becoming a little dizzier. "Fine."

I watch as he takes out a giant pot and places it on the stove and clicks on the burner. He stumbles back to the pantry, pulling out more rum and about 15 cans of Spaghettios.

One by one he cracks them open and scrapes them out into the heated pot. Once all of them are empty, he shrugs and fetches more, deciding two grown Saiyans require a bit more than that to be satisfied.

I sigh and decide to help, but half way through my second bottle I'm a little more useless.

I fumble with the can in my hands, unable to shove my thick fingers below the little tab. Kakarot laughs to himself and takes it from me, cracking it open with ease.

I pout. Why can he handle his alcohol so much better than I can? I sigh after quickly realizing it's because he drinks a lot more often than I do, because I never drink.

"If you wanna help, you can start on the cake. There's eggs in the fridge and oil in the pantry."

I inspect the box sitting alone on the counter through fuzzy vision. It's the same box I had seen a few months ago. Go figure. I grimace at the nasty gray-looking chunky powder. This is cake? It looks more like sand or dirt. I sigh and ignore the gross feeling the look of this gave my stomach. I rip the top of the plastic bag off with my bare hands, the powder dusting out all over the counter. I hear Kakarot chuckle from a few feet away. I scowl, dumping the mixture into a large plastic bowl. I read the back of the package. Water? Why is this sounding more nasty as it continues?

I measure out a cup of water and dump it into the bowl, cringing at the way it effortlessly sinks to the bottom. Oil. Ugh. I go to the pantry and grab the oil, noting how many other boxed cakes there are hidden in the depths of the shelves.

"One-third," I mutter to myself, carefully pouring the thick yellow liquid in the measuring cup, but going a bit over as my hands are quite shaky.

Dumping it in, I notice it sticks to the sides of the cup, and I find myself wishing I had done the water second. The powder turns almost black in contact with the oil. It gives me some hope that this 'cake' might actually turn into something edible.

"And... Three eggs."

Kakarot had done the kindest courtesy of taking the carton of eggs out of the fridge, I just had to gain enough motor control to crack them.

I did, one at a time, hardly noticing the occasional piece of eggshell falling into the mixture.

Apparently assembling the cake took a lot longer than I thought it did, because before I was even able to start mixing it up, Kakarot was tapping my shoulder, a heaping bowl of steamy pasta in his other hand.

I smirked and took it from him, hyper-careful of not spilling it on my way to my to the table.

I sit down, and immediately groan when I realize I've forgotten a spoon. I turn and nearly smack into Kakarot, who carefully held me back and handed me a utensil.

"Calm down, Vegeta. I've got you covered. Here."

I thanked him quietly and readjusted myself in my seat, shoveling hot food in my mouth as Kakarot sat down.

He eyed me for a moment before looking at his hands and then mine.

"You're left handed?"

I set my spoon down and cock an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

"That's so weird!"

I have no idea what's wrong with him, "What do you even mean? it's not weird."

"How do you even do that?" He passes his spoon into his left hand attempting to feed himself with it.

"I do it because it's what feels natural to me. It's no different than you being right handed."

"I don't think I've ever met anyone else that's left handed."

I'm still lost on why this is an important issue. "Piccolo is left handed," I point out.

"Really? I never noticed."

Part of me is flattered that he paid more attention to me than the Namek, but the other part of me is sick of this conversation. But I decide to play along, just to satiate him.

"We left-handers find each other easily. It's like a sixth sense."

He shakes his head, wondering on something.

"What is it?"

He shakes his head harder. Just looking at him is making me dizzy. "On earth, some people used to beat their kids for using their left hand. Something about the devil? It's kinda frowned upon now, but it was really strange. They would force them to use their right hands and then beat them for having messy handwriting."

I furrow my brow, "They cant have both. Either neat penmanship or writing with the right hand, there's no in between."

"I don't know, Vegeta, how can left handed people be so bad if you're one of them?"

I blush before tucking into my food. "They're not."