Fandom: DBZ/ Dragon Ball
Characters: Vegeta/Goku(Kakarot), hinted Bulma/Kakarot, Yamcha, Kami
Word Count: 1169
Warnings: Polymory, Silly boys
Summary: Kakarot wonders if he has a thing for difficult people.
Kakavege week Feb 2nd:
Shut up! だまね
Making wishes お祈りする
Impulsive 使用動的な
Notes: Vegeta and Kakarot kinda-sorta-not quite have an open relationship, in that neither one of them have said that they're *exclusive* per se...despite only ever sleeping with each other, knowing all of each other's quirks, and pine for each other whenever they're not stationed together.
That being said, you can't *not* smooch an alien when the chance presents itself.
This entry is basically a "how we got here" segment for the story. Idk. It's longer but it feels weaker, if only because I'm on a time crunch and had to cut out a lot of scenes where Kakarot is walking the earth, slowly burying pieces of his heart in the soil. Also, reverse pining.
"This is beneath you."
Kakarot inclines his head but doesn't look away from his datapad where he's scrolling through star systems and unnamed planets.
"This is children's work." Vegeta snarls, pacing his quarters, restless and irritated.
Expanding his search even farther out, Kakarot hums, "Then it'll be like a vacation, don't you think?" His lips curve into an impish smile, his tail snagging Vegeta around the thigh as he passes by. Kakarot pulls the prince close, dropping the datapad to the wayside to real him in by his cloak clasps, nipping at Vegeta's stern mouth. "I think you could benefit from one."
"The frontlines would benefit from you being there," Vegeta says, arch. His lip curls back, revealing a sharp canine.
Kakarot's grin flags, like a candle blown by the wind. "Which frontline?"
Which battle, which enemy, which cause.
All of them, any of them.
(Kakarot is tired of each and every one)
Kakarot licks into Vegeta's mouth before he can answer, having heard it all before. Vegeta rumbles against his lips, part growl, part moan, hands harsh where they grip his jaw and tilt him up for it. His breath is hot, it tasted like the scorching sun and his lips carried the history of their people. Vegeta kisses the way he fights, ruthless and unyielding.
Sometimes Kakarot worries that Vegeta will scrape himself raw, whittle himself down to hollow rage and baked bones.
(we are saiya, we are warriors, we will outlive the stars)
Kakarot pulls his prince down into the cushions with him, hooking his legs around Vegeta's narrow waist, seeking heat and pressure. He bites at Vegeta's mouth, tracing his tongue along the seam of his lips. "If you want to fight, we can fight," Kakarot presses a chaste peck on the corner of Vegeta's mouth. "If you want me to keep you company, just say so."
He smiles, bright and beckoning, then laughs when Vegeta groans and curses, pulling off their undersuits.
It never stops amusing Kakarot how easy it is to redirect Vegeta's temper. You're so predictable, he thinks, fond. His chest warms, feeling full, and a little caved in. He's set to leave in the morning, so he'll make the most of right now.
"So I guess there are signs of life up in the stars, huh?" Bulma says, tucking a length of blue hair behind her ear. She meets Kakarot's smile with a smirk, her hip knocking into his; she looks fearless to him. "I don't think 'intelligent' is the right descriptor, though."
Kakarot laughs and laughs. "You're probably not wrong."
Bulma is amusing and strange and curiously beautiful just like the planet she lives on. He likes the sound of her voice and the color of her hair, her wit and her selfishness; how she alternates between crass and class, all attitude and academic discovery. Kakarot wonders if he has a thing for difficult people.
"So spaceman," she says, sliding her soft arm through his, the blunt ends of her blue hair whispering against his bicep. "What brings you to down to earth?"
Kakarot turns her trailing hand over, running his fingers over her callouses and manicured nails. He likes the contrast of work hardened palms and jewel red paint. It reminds him of the crimson dyed sand that makes up Vegetasei's plains, gleaming spires of metal and glass architecture puncturing the cloudless sky. "To explore, maybe." He says, fitting their hands together, palm to palm, fingertip to fingertip.
Her eyebrow raises, and she leans in close, "I hope you're not setting up for any invasion plans, then."
Kakarot grins. "There's nothing in the data files, so I wouldn't worry."
The mountains are high, the heavens are far, and the king is further. Kakarot laughs and breaths cold, clear air, streaking through the thin atmosphere. He could fly for one hundred years and the landscape on this planet would forever enchant him, so new and so alien.
The taste of ozone dances on his tongue, thunder rolls below him and lightning claws after his wake. He howls with the wind and plummets into the eye of the tempest, reveling in the storm, his armor streaked and battered by rain. The clouds cling to his skin, blur his eyes, and attempt to swallow him whole.
His blood sings, molten.
"Does this place truly delight you, my boy?" asks a withered voice. The gale seems to bow to it rather than devour it. Kakarot wonders if an emperor has descended.
Arms outstretched, eyes closed, chest heaving, Kakarot licks the rain from his lips. "This planet is as ferocious as it is pretty."
When he saw the earth from orbit, it stirred something from within him. Like the full moon in the middle of battle, adversaries on all sides; like Vegeta's hands on his bare skin, teeth at his throat.
"I assume that would appeal to one such as you, child of Yasai," says God, descending from his throne and garden.
Raditz cursed the stars every time they were stationed together, feeling put upon as his brother's keeper, trying and failing to reign him in.
Vegeta called him reckless and chased jealously after him anyway. Hands clawing, eyes hungry and mouth snarling.
Kakarot thinks of dark, covetous eyes and kisses Yamcha and Bulma anyway. He giggles when Yamcha makes a strangled whimper and follows his mouth; indulges Bulma when she pulls him down by his collar and demands another. He loves them because they live here, but he does not take it any further. The earth sleeps in their bones and Kakarot does not belong there.
Maybe Bulma understands because she doesn't ask for more than what he's wordlessly offering. She cards her fingers through his hair, then traces down the angle of his jaw to the bow of his bottom lip. Her eyes are as blue as the sea after the storm, they glitter in the light of the bonfire behind them.
"Oh jeez," Yamcha squeaks. "I can't believe I kissed an alien before I kissed a girl."
Bulma snickers against Kakarot's lips, her fingers curious and quick where they explore his clavicles. "Congratulations on reaching fourth base."
The morning crests over the hills and valleys of a country Kakarot doesn't know the name of, his hand outstretched for a body that isn't there.
He blinks the sleep from his eyes, fingers closing around cold sheets and dewy air.
Kakarot dreamt of his death. Paradise was filled with golden clouds and infinite stars. He dreamt of Vegeta's death, and hell was an empty star system, an unmarked grave, and a pierced heart.
He breathed through a thick throat, tossing his lonely arm across his sore eyes.
"Wishes are such cruel things," Kami says, kind without pity.
"I wondered what else was out there," Kakarot tells him
Kami's weathered hands clasp neatly above his robes, eyes somber. He asks, "What did you find?"
Kakarot chokes on a wet laugh. His thoughts and heart drifted from each other. "The gravity is too light, here."