- 4 Breath on Neck -
"TI-TAN! TI-TAN! TI-TAN!"
The chant filled the smokey room as dozens of aliens crowded around, veering for the best view of the small table. Vegeta sat on one side, leisurely chugging down a fermented drink with his left hand while his right arm sat perpendicular on the table, three pairs of hands trying to pull it down to no avail. His arm wouldn't budge and he wasn't even trying yet.
After he'd bested the Arlian in 3 easy back-to-back arm-wrestling matches, others had been keen to challenge him. He couldn't remember how many victories he was up to, the foamy liquid they kept feeding him not helping in that department. Close to thirty empty glasses were at his side, his challengers not-so-secretly hoping to get him drunk enough to lose, but hey hadn't bargained on his Saiyan metabolism.
Still, Saiyan genetics or not, he was starting to feel rather… good.
He finished his drink and set the glass down with the others, turning dark eyes onto the two men and one massive woman who were sweating, puffing, and straining to get his arm to yield.
"My turn," he announced with a wicked smirk. In one quick decisive action, he slammed his arm to the left and took all three of them with it, splitting the wood of the table from the force of the impact. The losers moaned and clutched their bruised hands, the rest of the room erupting in cheers and curses as metallic dowels were exchanged between those who'd placed bets.
The losers left but no one took up a seat. "What, no more takers?" he called out boastfully. Friendly hands slapped him on the back, congratulating him and calling him a beast, but the crowd dispersed to find fresh drinks and other entertainment where the odds were not so stacked against them.
High on his winning streak, Vegeta stood — blinking in surprise as the world tilted on its axis for a moment — and looked around for her.
Bulma was leaning against a nearby wall, counting a large stack of shiny dowels she had made off his matches. They were mostly low-grade metals, the people here not overly wealthy, but it was still a sizable windfall for a couple of arm-wrestling bets. She grinned as he approached. "Havin' fun, titan?"
He braced his arm on the wall by her side, finding it a little harder than usual to stand straight. He didn't protest the nickname; the crowd had started cheering it of their own volition and for once the word was spoken in friendly admiration, so Vegeta had tolerated it. "Perhaps I am."
She gave him a smile that widened the longer she stared at him. Something warm unfurled in his chest, and he leaned in just a little closer to hear her over the noise of the party.
She offered up half the dowels. "We could get by, you and I, hustling the universe bar after bar."
He looked at the dowels and for a moment indulged in the fantasy, imagining what it would be like to flee his shackles and live a life on the run with her at his side. Seeing the universe not as a destroyer or enforcer of it, but a part of it, enjoying a life among it.
She tapped his chest with her winnings. "Think about it. I could use your muscle and you could use my brains and tech-savvy. We'd be an unstoppable force."
His heart ached at the thought. If only it were possible. He shook his head. "You look after my share."
She shrugged but didn't try and fight him, hiking up her dress. The smooth expanse of her pale thigh instantly drew his attention, the neurons in his brain fritzing out as she hitched the red fabric higher and higher until she found her hidden garter belt. She fastened the dowels to it, but he was far more fascinated by how powdery soft her skin looked.
"Hey, eyes up here, homeboy," she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He jerked out of his trance and dragged his gaze up. Her pretty lips curled into an amused smile. "I thought you didn't drink."
He shrugged. "Winning so much made me thirsty."
"Oh my god, you did not just say that." She laughed, letting the hem of her dress ripple back down. He saw she had put her shoes back on at some point, a smart move given the state of the floor. He noticed this because the toe of her heel started rubbing coyly against his leg.
He swallowed and tried to focus on the conversation. "What is that stuff called?"
"What you were drinking? On Earth we'd call it beer, but they make it a lot stronger out here though."
He scoffed. "Not that strong."
"Is that so? Tried standing on your own lately?" she asked looking pointedly at the arm he was braced on.
He gave her an offended look and pushed off from the wall to prove a point — only to find himself falling back.
"Whoa there big guy!" She grabbed his shirt, but the sudden reversal had them collide into each other.
"Fuck. I think there's something wrong with the artificial gravity modulator," he grumbled, trying to find his balance with the help of his hands on her dainty waist.
Bulma laughed and took his hands, encouraging them to wrap tighter about her middle, her own arms sneaking up around his neck. She coaxed his brow to rest on hers, and he found the embrace to be pleasant. "Fat chance. You're just sloshed."
He scowled. "You use a lot of strange expressions." She was confounding, like no one he had ever met before. It was as if the misery of life hadn't touched her. He was both horribly jealous and terribly drawn towards her because of it. "Is that your planet?"
"Is what my planet?"
"Earth?"
"Mm-hm," she hummed, her fingers toying with the small spikes of hair at the back of his neck. It felt nice. Soothing. Melting away every little worry and ache he had until all he felt was peace. He wanted her to touch him all over and make him feel this good everywhere. In a rare moment of vulnerability he closed his eyes, just enjoying being with her and rocking ever so gently, back and forth, in what he supposed could be considered his first dance.
"Hey baby-drunk, don't go to sleep on me yet. I don't think I could carry you," she whispered against his cheek. Her breath was warm and sweet.
He nodded lazily. One of his hands found the small of her back and started caressing it. It was as soft as he'd imagined — softer. He loved the way her skin felt under his fingertips, how she shivered in response and pressed closer against him.
"Tell me about your world," he murmured.
"You want to know about Earth?"
He blinked open his eyes to look at her. "I want to know about you."
Something vulnerable flashed in her eyes. He wished to capture it and examine every facet of its meaning. "…Okay," she finally agreed with a strangely shy smile.
He lost track of how long they stayed that way while she regaled him of her home, her family, her adventures through the galaxy. She had led a charmed life, at least compared to his. Her planet was yet untouched by the empire, but that wasn't exactly news to him. He had destroyed many worlds like hers before. In fact, it could have easily been hers.
That was an unpleasant thought.
"Hey. Where'd you go?" she asked, searching his eyes and brushing her thumbs over his titan tattoos.
"I'm here." At least for now. For this trip. Once the TITAN docked on his home-world, whatever this little thing he was indulging in with her would end, and his life as a full-fledged titan would begin. It hurt to think about. She had given him a taste of another life and it left him thirsty for more.
But he had responsibilities.
He regretfully disengaged, unwinding his tail from about her waist… only to remember he didn't have one. It was a sobering reminder. Gut wrenching.
He looked around, desperate to get some fresh air.
"Vegeta?"
Where was the fucking exit? He had lost track of it. That wasn't like him. Fuck. What was he even doing down here? It was hot and noisy and stuffy and filled with strangers who could stab him in the back at any moment — why had he taken off his armor?! — whose worlds he might one day be ordered to obliterate, if he hadn't done so already just to ink their blood onto his hands in commemoration.
We're all just stains waiting to blacken someone's hands.
He couldn't breathe.
He went to brace himself against the nearest table but his hand missed and he fell.
"Vegeta!" Bulma ran to his side to help him up. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I need to get out of here," he gasped.
"Yes, of course."
They picked up his things and with his instructions she helped him back towards his room. As they got close they passed an open door. The compromising sounds emanating from within caught their attention.
It was a private party, several important allies of the empire lounged around, drinking and eating and watching the 'entertainment'. In the middle of the living room Titan Jeice was bent over an alien, fucking it dispassionately to the cheers of the audience. They called ribald instructions and made the most degrading comments, passing out dowels and betting on the titan's stamina. Jeice was slicked with sweat and clearly flagging, but he let their comments roll off his back. The only reason he would allow this is if the Lord Commander had sanctioned it.
Suddenly Jeice glanced over and their eyes met. Even with his all-black eyes, Vegeta recognized the look of emptiness in them. It was the same look that greeted him each day in his mirror.
"C'mon," Bulma insisted with a hint of fear in her voice, tugging him gently onwards before they were implicated.
When they reached his room she sat him down on the bed. He rested his head in his hands. He felt thin and frayed, like an old over-worn shirt.
She said something about getting him into fresh clothes and dug through his drawers. Normally he would eviscerate anyone for touching his things without asking, but he couldn't bring himself to care right now.
"Oh my god… that's just not right…"
He glanced up. All his drawers were pulled open, each one neatly packed with brand new titan regulated attire. His own clothes were nowhere to be seen.
They were stripping him of who he was one layer at a time.
She pushed the drawers shut and gave him a worried look. Pity. She was pitying him. He looked away with disgust.
"Let's just get you some water instead."
"I can take care of myself," he hissed, humiliated. She was treating him like an invalid.
"I never said you couldn't," she replied, going into the bathroom. "Doesn't mean I can't help, right?" She returned a few seconds later with a glass of water.
He glared at her offering. "I am fine!"
She pursed her lips and stared at him, eyes dark with anger. She placed the glass down and drew herself up. "Are you, Vegeta. Really? Because I don't think you are."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I have eyes in my head. Just look at this!" She waved her hands about the room. "Look at what they were forcing that other titan to do. Is this what you want for your life?"
He stood, getting up into her face. "Like I have a fucking choice. Not all of us can jump in a ship and flee their responsibilities when they feel like it. I have to worry about my father, my people, my whole fucking planet!" He was lashing out as if she were the personification of the bit they had him champing at.
"And who's worrying about you?" she countered. "Don't you see? You're just making excuses for Frieza to use against you. Trapping you. Vegeta, you're going to die if you don't break free, maybe not right away because you're strong and proud. But eventually that fire in you is going to burn out."
He felt an icy cold creep over him, killing every warm feeling he had ever felt. "Get out." His voice was low and threatening as he pointed to the door.
"Vegeta—"
"Leave, Bulma. If I see you again, I will turn you in to Frieza myself."
Her fierce blue eyes began to swim. He expected her to yell or reason with him — was almost hoping she would — but she turned and left without another word, slamming the door behind her a little too hard. It was the most anticlimactic way to end the night and it left Vegeta feeling uncomfortable, his stomach roiling in an unsettling way.
Deeply unsatisfied, he picked up the glass of water and smashed it to the back of the door, then did the same with his leg armor for good measure. He threw himself down on his bed, but had to push up and peel off his undershirt; hidden beneath the sweat and smoke he could still smell her on it.
With that taken care of, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, hoping that the ship might blow up before he could wake.
~xox~
He was dropping hearts off the deck. One after the other they fell and burst apart on the floor below. And each time his hands grew darker.
One of the hearts bounced, landing wet and heavy and whole before it started to seep blood.
Dread crept up his spine.
"Vegeta?"
He turned sharply and saw Bulma standing on the other end of the deck in a white dress. She looked distressed, clutching her hands to her chest. They pulled away revealing a gaping hole, her palms soaked in blood.
"Have you seen it?" she asked him, her voice tiny and trembling.
He didn't know what to say. He tried to reach her but her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed.
Dead.
He had seen enough death to know what it looked like. Still, he fell to her side to pick her up, but when he grabbed her blood-soaked dress it changed into his royal cape. He looked around, finding himself within the tall corridors of the Saiyan palace. He spotted his father, beaming so proudly at him as he draped the cape over his shoulders, telling him of all the great things he would one day achieve as king.
Then he was alone.
He ran and ran from one end of the palace to the other, crying out for anyone to hear him but no one was there. Finally he collapsed to his knees in distress. A chillingly familiar hand leaned down and removed his cape. "You won't be needing this anymore," Frieza purred. His cold calculating eyes latched onto Vegeta's tail, and his lips curled up. "Or that."
Vegeta couldn't move, paralyzed as Frieza leaned in and took his tail in a vice-like grip and pulled. His tail wrenched free and kept on pulling, taking all of him with it. Vegeta watched in horror as the tattoos on his hands were pulled away like an unraveling string, Frieza laughing maniacally all the while. The commander was taking every last one of his accomplishments and hard-earned victories until there was nothing left but a mess of tail and tattoos on the floor. 'Vegeta' was gone, a shell of what he had been, his hands now a blank slate for Frieza to write over.
His father stood in the corner watching, not with pride—
But with pity.
Someone banged at the door.
Vegeta woke with a start in his bed on the FF TITAN. Sweat clung to his skin. The banging continued until his father let himself in, his boots crunching over broken glass. Vegeta made an unhappy sound and tried to smother himself with his pillow. Fuck, he felt like death. His mouth tasted dry and nearly as bad as it had after eating the heart-fruit, his stomach feeling almost as queasy.
"Why aren't you dressed yet?" his father snapped. "Do you want to anger Frieza by being late for breakfast?"
The mention of food almost made him throw up. "How many fucking meals does that psychopath insist we attend?"
A hand smacked him upside the head. Vegeta raised his face to glower at his father.
"Watch your tongue, boy. You never know when ears might be listening."
The annoying part was his father was right. It would be just like Frieza to spy on them. The king put something down on the table. A gift? That was a first.
"What's that?" he asked, pushing himself up in bed.
"How should I know? It was outside your room. Didn't you order it?"
Vegeta grunted. It was surprising he could even raise his expectations anymore to feel them be disappointed, especially when it came to his father.
The king opened his drawers and hesitated at seeing the titan-wear, but it didn't stop him from pulling out a uniform and laying it at the end of the bed. "Stop dawdling. You need to shower, you reek of smoke. And why is there glass on the floor? What the hell did you do last night?"
"What does it matter?"
The king narrowed his eyes. "Your attitude has been dangerously borderline of insubordinate of late. Need I remind you what's at stake here? Do you wish to see our people wiped from existence?"
"Do not lecture me on what's at stake. I know better than anyone. Just ask my fucking tail."
The king's mouth turned down. "You think I haven't made sacrifices? Do you think it was easy for me to hand you over — my own son and heir — to that goddamned…" he trailed off, ending his tirade before he said anything compromising. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not what I wished for you, or for our people. But I had to consider our survival. The strong consume the weak."
The bed fell away and Vegeta felt sick, Frieza's words coming back to haunt him. The commander must have used the same speech to convince his father to give him up for titan-hood.
—excuses for Frieza to use against you. Trapping you.
He felt bile burn the back of his throat and swallowed it down, putting a hand over his face. "Stop worrying, father, it's beneath you. Besides, it's my burden to bear now. Have I ever disappointed?"
There was a heavy silence. Then a hand rested on his shoulder and Vegeta looked up into the king's solemn face. "Of all I have ever achieved, you are my greatest accomplishment, my son. A father couldn't be prouder—"
Vegeta got up, pushing the hand away. He couldn't hear this. "My accomplishments are my own. Do not try and take them from me, I already have Frieza doing that to my identity." He made for the bathroom.
"…I'll go to the banquet hall to placate Frieza until your arrival."
Vegeta waited until he heard the bedroom door open and close before he could uncurl his fists.
He let his turbulent emotions wash away down the drain as he showered. When he finished, the bedroom was blessedly empty. The mysterious tray was still on the table. Looking for any reason not to put on his titan armor, he scoped it out. There was a nondescript white envelope and a metallic thermos. The thermos contained a warm pleasant-smelling broth, and the envelope had a folded piece of paper and a small cylindrical item inside. He thumbed open the letter.
∎▶︎▶︎𝝣⋰𝝯⦁﹅⥡
~ ❤︎
The letters were the script of the empire, but nonsensical. Still, there was only one person who could have sent it, only one person who gave a damn enough to send him anything. Why Bulma even bothered after the way he treated her was beyond him.
He sank to a seat and stared at the note so long he lost track of time. He sipped the broth, letting it settle his nausea and fill the hollowness he felt inside. The small capsule-shaped item was a puzzle. He rolled it over and over in his palm until it occurred to compress the node on top. The device burst open in his hand and revealed a Saiyan suit.
How the fuck…?
A note fell out: Looks like they forgot to check the laundry.
Vegeta went totally numb. Here he was giving everything he had — his loyalty, his tail, his future — to those who didn't appreciate him, who only wanted more, who only wanted to see him suffer and fail, yet the one person whose only agenda was to care for his welfare was the one person he had pushed away.
You're going to die if you don't break free.
His eyes flicked between the titan clothing and his Saiyan attire. Making a decision, he got dressed and left his room.
~xox~
Trying to find someone on the galaxy's largest ship when he had no means of tracking her down was a challenge, but Vegeta lucked out when he found her standing on the lower observation deck. The same place they had first laid eyes on one another and dropped a fortune's worth of fruit onto. The cleaning crew had been by because all the mess from the fruit was gone.
For a brief moment he hesitated when he saw her in white, the memory of his dream resurfacing. But it wasn't a dress, just part of her crew uniform. A matching crew cap hid her hair and helped shield her face from unwanted attention. But he recognized her. He didn't think he would ever be able to forget her again.
She was looking at something on a holographic tablet. Her disguise was good, for all the universe appearing as any other regular maintenance worker. He moved on silent feet until only a few paces separated them.
"Anything interesting?"
"Holy shit!" she startled, not having heard his approach. Her surprise melted into uncertainty when she saw it was him, then changed again when she noticed what he wore. Her mouth lilted up. "Ah, I see you got my present."
He crossed his arms over his chest, enjoying the stretch of the comforting fabric. "It's hardly a present when it belonged to me in the first place."
"I think the words you're looking for are: "Thank you, Bulma. You are the most amazing ingenious resourceful woman I've ever met. It's so nice of you to do this for me when I was such a colossal ass to you last night, but I hope you'll forgive me because I was drunk.""
He raised a brow.
She sniffed haughtily and turned her attention back at her tablet. "Oh don't stand there posing all handsome and think I'll forgive you so easily."
Handsome? "Aren't you afraid I'll make good on my promise?" He had threatened to turn her in if he saw her again.
"Oh please."
Were it anyone else he might have been offended by her lack of fear. But he was just relieved she was talking to him. He uncrossed his arms and breached the remaining gap, coming up to her side. On her display were a bunch of numbers and diagrams.
"Is that the TITAN's course?"
Bulma nodded, frowning. "We're going to be hitting Atlantikos soon and they're headed right through the middle of it at full speed, AND the starboard sensor has been acting up for hours now. What are the crew on this ship even doing?"
"I'm sure they know. Frieza doesn't hire amateurs."
"Hmm. Well, I sent a maintenance alert anyways." She looked up and searched the sky through the giant dome, squinting into the distance before pointing at a tiny dot. "There. That's the Atlantikos Cloud. You ever been before?"
"No."
They lapsed into silence, staring off into space for a while.
He dug out the note she had written and dropped it over her hologram, causing the tablet to dissipate. "What's this supposed to be?"
She hitched a brow. "Really? It's the code to the airlock. Told you it would be easy to get."
"Tch, I know that." He had figured it out the moment he saw the symbols. It was how he'd deduced the message was from her. No one else knew of that incident. No one else would understand. It's not that he wanted to kill himself — he was far too proud to go out that way —, but she had given him the option; it was the first sliver of real control over his life that he'd had in years. Somehow, Bulma understood that. "That's not what I meant. What is this?" he pointed to the final symbol.
"…Are you serious? Vegeta, that's a heart."
He stared at her. Then down to the 'heart'. Then back up to her, his eyes narrowing. "Aren't you supposed to be an engineer?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Don't you have to draw well?"
Bulma's face turned bright pink. "Excuse me. I so too can draw well!"
"I don't know about your human anatomy, but no heart I've ever torn out looks anything like this."
Her face grew pinker by the second. "First of all, that's barbaric. Second of all, it's symbolic, you asshole."
"Of what? How little you can draw or how little you know about hearts?"
"Oh, YOU'RE going to lecture ME about hearts, Mr Prince of All Don't-Help-Me-I-Can-Do-Everything-By-Myself-And-Have-The-Emotional-Sensitivity-Of-A-Slug?"
They glared at each other before he cracked and smirked. She struggled to hide her own smile, shoving his arm — which only resulted in pushing herself away because he was as immoveable as an iron beam.
"Jerk," she said again for good measure.
"So what do I owe you?"
She threw him a salty look, still pretending to be upset. "For what?"
"The code. I owe you for it, remember?"
"Well obviously."
"Obviously," he fondly repeated.
"You could lay off the beer. Turns out you're a rather morose and grumpy drunk."
"Agreed." It was as close to an apology as he was going to give. "I was going to do that anyway. It hardly counts as a favor."
"Hmm… Then I'll need to think on it. I guess you can stick close by until I come up with a suitable repayment," she said with a nudge to his arm.
His smile died away, his mood growing more serious. "Bulma… I have to go through with it." Everything she'd said last night had been true. But it didn't change his decision. If his sacrifice in becoming a titan could guarantee the safety and future of his people, then what choice did he have? And maybe, maybe one day he could get strong enough to rise up against Frieza… He swallowed back that pipe dream and looked Bulma square in the eyes. "When we dock on my planet, we won't be able to see each other again."
Her expression turned sad, but she nodded. "Yeah… I kinda figured."
"But, until then…" he trailed off and looked down, the words sticking in his throat. He wasn't sure how to ask this, or if she would even be receptive.
Luckily she seemed to catch on. Her hands reached up and cupped his face, thumbing his titan tattoos like she had done last night during their 'dance'. It made him feel less ashamed to have them. "You're not a titan yet," she said, understanding.
He swallowed thickly and nodded in relief. If he only had a few weeks of freedom left before his final rite, he wanted to enjoy them. He wanted to be with her.
He pulled off her cap and let it drop to the floor, cupping her face back and bringing their brows together. His phantom tail curled about her waist.
Her breath shuddered out. "You make me feel so light-headed when you get close like this," she confessed in a soft whisper. "I feel like I'm floating."
His lips curled up, glad he wasn't the only one. "Would you like to?"
"Like to what?"
He leaned back, breaking their embrace. "Turn around."
She gave him a curious look. He smirked and made a little 'turn around' gesture with his finger. She was suspicious but obeyed, and he tore off his gloves with his teeth, discarding them on the floor with her hat. Stepping up behind her, he wrapped his bare hands over her delicate waist, a couple fingers slipping under her short white t-shirt. She tensed.
"Trust me," he whispered, ghosting his breath on her neck.
She nodded and relaxed. With only the smallest shift of energy they were airborne. Her breath caught with an audible cry as he floated them up up up to the top of the dome until they were hanging among the stars.
Her fingers latched onto his. "Oh my god, YOU CAN FLY?!"
He chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder. "There are many things I can do that a puny thing like you cannot."
"Try not to ruin the moment, Vegeta."
"Brave of you to threaten the man who could drop you like a heart right now."
"Oh please." It was an empty threat and they both knew it.
He pressed his smile to her skin, breathing her in and relishing the ability to hold her so close and hear her excited sounds as she pointed out galaxies in the black sky. It was charming to see the universe through her eyes. Her left hand brushed over his tattooed fingers with feather-light touches.
"This is amazing!" she gushed, leaning back, turning to look at him over her shoulder.
The moment she did, he saw the change in her eyes, the wonder turning to something softer and more intimate. His heart began to pound excitedly in his chest. He tightened his grip on her tummy, delighting when her breath hitched and her hand clutched him harder. Her gaze fluttered to his mouth then back up into his eyes, her nose nudging coyly to his.
Softly, achingly, he dragged his lips over hers. Her right hand held the back of his head close, and he kissed her again and again and again until he no longer knew if he was flying or falling.
~xoXox~
AN: Phew! I had a lot of overtime this week so I couldn't get this chapter out as quickly as I would have liked, ack, I'm so behind on the prompts now! _
Thanks to all those who have commented and supported this fic, you guys are a treasure 3 Special shoutout to Rutbisbe for drawing me the most beautiful heart-wrenching Vegeta for chapter 2. ;_; Check it out if you haven't yet:
http : SLASH SLASH rutbisbe DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 182827656306 SLASH fanart-for-titan-ladyvegeets-fanfiction-for