Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

There's something to be said about the way you sleep.

Yes, you have a way of sleeping. Heck, you have a way about everything you do, it's just a matter of being patient enough to see it.

You have this certain way you scramble your eggs--you stick everything in the pan, and then mix it...it's a wonder the stove always smells like something's burning, right...?

You have a specific manner in which you eat dinner--the need to make sure your food doesn't touch anything else on the plate. And when it does, you eat that portion last...

And the way work--sporadic at best. I need to be productive and finish immediately, giving myself time for review later on. You work when the mood strikes, and then break a few minutes later to stare at something, or get a drink. Haha would have called you a 'slacker'. I call it endearing.

Then, there's the way you sleep. You have a need to...curl into me. Dende knows I love how soft you are...

Well, I can see why you do it, I mean given the difference in height between us, it would just be ridiculous the other way around.

And I do admit I love feeling you fit into me. There's something so...satisfying...about having you like that.

Mine.

Hmn. Now I think I'm starting to sound like you.

But then, what's that thing people say about pets looking like their owners...?

I don't know what I'd do if I woke up one morning looking like a bad Chinese dub of you.

The hair would be all wrong...

But, I digress.

Last night, I...

Kami-sama...this is so embarrassing...

Well, last night, I heard you. I mean, I heard what you said while I was asleep--almost asleep.

You know that place when you feel like you can fall asleep, but for some reason you can't...? Well, I was stuck in 'can't' mode.

And then I felt you shift, turning on your side to face me...and then your breath on my chin, and your fingers on my ear...

Kami, that feels so good. You know I love it when you touch me, right...?

But then...after you...well...you started to speak.

It was so easy to hear you when you began...if it had been lighter out, the shade of red I was boasting would have put a candied apple to shame.

And then you started speaking in your native tongue. I love hearing it, I don't know how many times I've said it before, and every time you simply scoffed at me and called me a baka for my ignorance, or pathetic because I only know sounds and not meanings or phrases. Well...last night while you were talking...I heard you.

I understood you.

Not every word, but enough to guess...and my suspicions were only confirmed when you repeated it in my native tongue. And I...

I love you too, Vegeta.

You know, I can already picture the expression on your face. The split second your eyes would go wide then arrow abruptly--scanning the room for any one who may be looking over your shoulder, or who may have noticed the sudden change in your princely composure...

Too bad I'll never get to see that.

I love you, Vegeta-san.

Vegeta-sama.

My prince.

You know it feels kind of...nice...to say something like that out loud. Yeah. Nice.

Like your ass...

Hai. I know. Sumimasen. I think all this studying is getting the best of me. I can't seem to concentrate enough on the material...unless, of course, it's the cotton sweats you routinely scrounge for when you get up in the morning--the grey ones Bra-chan got you for your birthday.

Your birthday. What an accident that was.

But anyhow...

Well...I should be working, but as usual, I can't. You're very intimidating, Vegeta-san. You make menial tasks so much harder to endure when I know I have a demanding Saiyan prince on his way home.

Darn it all! I keep getting distracted...!

I can do this.

I heard what you said last night, Vegeta...and I want you to know I feel the same way. I would willingly give my life for you--my love, my mind, my body. Ask and you shall receive it all in fair exchange for a simple kiss...

I can blame that on studying too hard. You know I'm never that poetic outside of an essay.

Or simple admiration of you through the shower curtain...

Can you see it? See what you've turned me into? Haha would weep if she saw the things that pass through my mind on an hourly basis.

But...moving on. I was wondering...do you think you might...

Kami...this is so difficult for me...

Vegeta-san...would you marry me...?

I know this is kind of sudden, and I realize you detest idiotic human traditions like that, but...we've been through so much together, and I was hoping...well...

There's no rush. I can take a rejection like a man. Like you would ever worry about hurting someone's feelings, anyhow. But I...I thought I'd ask and see where exactly it is I stand with you.

You know where I am.

You always know.

I'll wait for you, my prince.


~Gohan


~*~
He jerked from his reverie at the slamming of the door, shock urging the beating in his chest to quicken, it's pace refusing to slow even after the dawn of his smile brought that beaming visage to rise from its heartfelt quest fought through pen onto paper. Stuffing the ode of love never left into the open spin of his current courseload, the Son sighed, bemused, as the voice of his compact companion tore through the silence.

"Namek-dammed...fucking...whore-ass...blue-haired..."

Grinning as he went about straightening the clutter of open manuals and well-worn texts that advertised various bits and cockles of human history in a stream of out-dated, faded blues and pinks, Gohan stood. It seems the meeting hadn't gone as well as he had hoped.

Infuriated brow met the cheery cherry of a Son caught in the act of something surely unspeakable. Fuck if he cared what the boy did in his stead. As long as he was alive when it came time to fight or fuck, the prince could care less...

On the outside...

Eyes narrow, the irritated Ouji yanked the defenseless chair out from it's proper station, a loud screech merely accenting the 'thnk' as he unceremoniously pivoted the feeble accommodation, turning it to face him for a more comfortable straddle. Collapsing onto the obedient seat he dropped a battered spiral-bound notebook to the table before removing his coat. If he was going to sit through another one of these idiotic 'cat-and-mouse' games with the brat, he might as well insure his comfort. Folding his arms across the back of the seat Vegeta paused, watching as the boy before him busied himself with the remains of another battle against the army of sleep and soldiers of studying.

Damn boy wants to be a historian he should spend more time creating history, not lose his fucking head in a damn book for eight years. History was meant to be created and recorded--past tactics analyzed, perhaps, but never dissected. Enemies were made to be dissected, not the accounts of their forefathers.

Backwater planet. If the Namek were feeling generous, perhaps he rid this place of it's populace. Yes. Let the monkeys reign once more...

Taking a brief moment to study the smirking form seeming to be engaged in his own thoughts-no doubt of the 'backward workings of this ningen planet'-the Son raised a brow of concern. That little vein in the older man's temple was pulsing. Must be thinking about kicking Otousan's ass--butt. Darn. Damn...! Huffing his irritation, the raven-haired demi reigned in his conflicted nature; either way, it was never a good way to start off a lesson. Clearing his throat with a light cough, the eldest demi-Saiyan ran a wary hand through his hair.

Everything was going to be fine.

He could deal with the prince like this.

He'd done it before.

Moving to sit more collectedly in a seat adjacent his companion, Gohan removed a small, worn out paperback from atop the neat stack he had just made. Call it a life lesson: the more time he wasted, the more likely the man would be to destroy something. Setting the book before the somewhat distracted frame of his companion the demi huffed, nodded once, and spoke. "Page three."

Raising one sharp ridge to the boy, the obstinate Ouji scowled. "I do not see the need in reading about that damn dog again." Jerking backward, he snatched the tattered reader from the table; folding the spine Vegeta stared resentfully at the coolly composed figure to his left. "One would think these bakas had something better to do than watch a fucking mutt run around..."

Smiling, the eldest son of the only other Saiyan in known existence simply shook his head. "I refuse to have this discussion with you again, Vegeta-san." Settling back into the uncomfortable creaking of his mother's antique inheritance she had hoped to someday pass to her future daughter-in-law, the young man folded his arms to his chest. "Onegai? Let's get started, ne...?"

Purcing his lips in ill-approval of the child before him, the Saiyan prince trained his eyes on the small leaflet he held. Resigning himself to the 'trick' he'd have to turn in order to be saved from retiring to the harsh, scratchy maw of the man eating couch, the monarch threw a warning look toward the insolent beast in question.

Hn. The brat would make him sleep on the sofa. He'd done it twice already. Bitch. Squinting, he turned his attentions to the yellowed reader and started from where he'd left off one day previous. "See...Spot..." a sharp sigh diverted his stern concentration to the annoying jester to his side. "What."

"Do you have them with you?"

Growling his irritation, the heir apparent snapped. "I refuse you the pleasure of seeing those ridiculous things! How dare you insist I degrade myself in such a manner every single fucking time--"

"Vegeta-san!" He was not going to have this 'discussion' again. "You know you need them. You know it makes this easier on both of us when you use them--not to mention faster." Letting his chin rest on his chest the uncooked Son pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not trying to degrade you, or punish you for whatever, Vegeta-san, I'm only trying to help." Re-crossing his arms the young Saiyan slid his downed features to the insolent Ouji. "Are you going to put them on, or do I need to read over your shoulder again...?"

Clicking his canines intensely, a low, guttural release worked its way through his system. That was low. How dare that insignificant, third-class whelp demean him! The prince of Saiyans! One of the mightiest warriors the worlds and galaxies surrounding this sorry excuse for a planet had ever known! The heir to the entire Saiyan empire and all it's subservient territories! How dare he claim control over him! Does this...this child even know how close he is to getting blast--

"Vegeta-san..." The man was too stubborn for his own good.

Clenching his fist, the diminutive potentate moved forward slightly to better fish through the pocket of his jacket. Damn brat. "I give you your way much too often..."

"And I don't repay you in kind...?" Gohan quirked a brow, smiling simply at the harsh 'hn' of a retort given. Sighing, stretching his long legs beneath the table, the Son planted his feet firmly on the ground--indulging in the innocent action of pressing his weight onto the hind legs of his throne, tilting the seat backward to balance...careful not to go too far...

Working the study-stiffened muscles of his neck into a wide arc, Gohan cast a leisure eye toward the nearby window, watching as the sky turned down it's quilt of delicate purpley-pinks for the evening...

...kinda like Trunks hair...

"See Spot run. Run Spot run. See Jane. See Jane fuck Spot."

Feet slipping from their masterful balance on the amazingly thin wire of carpeted floor beneath him, the young man suddenly found himself that much more familiar with the antiquated rug used to protect the hardwood from such mishaps as shoe scuffs, and falling chairs...

Eyes tight and teeth grit the simple scholar attempted to rise from the awkward, almost medical 'legs-higher-than-your-head' position he unwillingly demonstrated for the whole class to see. Rolling to the side he came into a crouch, one hand gingerly rubbing the fatal contact area on the back of his head as the other reached out to the table for support. Glaring through one squinted eye he righted himself completely and scowled at the devilish little Ouji.

Stifling a chuckle, Vegeta passively peered to the mislaid youth over the slick rim of his small specs. "Hn. You're the one who wanted me to read this smut, brat."

Blinking his shock back to the floor, the man shook his head, complete in his conviction. "That's not what it says! It doesn't say that!"

Smooth, calm, like a cat striding along the pickets of a fence, the kid's elder folded his arms over the back of the chair once more, pulling himself forward to rest his chin on an elbow. "Are you so sure?" One brow arched sharply with the opposing wink he carelessly tossed. This fool was so his...

Nodding vigorously to emphasize his claim the Son bent at the waist to the prince's level, one hand reaching almost absently for the felled stool. "Yes!"

"Hn." Flipping the book back into his line of view, Vegeta shrugged the boy off. "That's what it should say," a snarl, "it would make these pictures more tolerable." Letting his wrist fall slack, the Saiyan sovereign eyed his counterpart lasciviously. "But then, I find this picture much more...appealing than anything Jane could do with Spot," a corner of his mouth raised in victory, "or Dick."

Attempting to maintain some semblance of his trademarked composure, Gohan sat--scooting the chair safely beneath the table to prevent any other such painful mishaps.

The man was playing with him again. The man was always playing with him, so why should now be any different...? "Sumimasen...Vegeta-san..." They were never going to get this finished. "Would you prefer going back to the book before this one...? You know, the one Go-chan and Bra-chan loved so much as chibis...?" The boy decided to fight this one his own way. "Dr. Seuss was a very important literary figure of his time--and that one had more than just one dog in it, too..."

Stealthily scanning the room for the wretched hardback that managed to combine and regurgitate perhaps fifteen words total of the language he'd been struggling to master, the eldest Saiyan frowned in disgust. "You wouldn't. Your balls aren't that big, boy." A skillful pause for affect. "I would know."

Tilting toward his relaxed foe, Son Gohan narrowed his eyes, grinding his teeth at the lewd comment he was sure the man was holding back for just such an occasion. A sharp spiking of ki told the prince exactly how to choose his next weapon. "Test me, Vegeta. I dare you."

Pinpointed coal clashing the polished pitch of his subtle counterpart, noting the complete lack of formality from the boy before him. Gradually raising the deteriorating manuscript once more, Vegeta resigned himself to his hell...

For now.

Rising slowly from his safe haven, Gohan smiled his success. "Drink?" Perhaps this will go faster than he'd originally foreseen...

The resolute prince aptly ignored him, continuing on with his hellish recitation. Nodding, lip catching between his teeth, the young Son huffed. "Me too. Be right back."

Vegeta paused as the boy left the room; his insolence would have him on his back come nightfall. He'll learn to hold his tongue when manners and respect for his elders were most necessary by the time dawn next rose...

Dropping the baka book back to the table and removing the dark-rimmed spectacles from their sharp perch the prince stood dutifully, his chair sliding back soundlessly with his ascension. If the brat was going to leave his defenses down, he had better be ready for a fight. Grunting his scheme to the irritating white and pink frills he hoped he'd never live to see his youngest draped in, he started after the object of his lust.

Until his eye caught the contrasting sterility of the stray leaf, which lay cramped between two thick volumes--name and given title written in the hand he'd been copying from for the past four months.

Vegeta-sama.

My prince.

Tossing a glance to the form weeding its way through the contents of the refrigerator and muttering Namek-knows-what to himself, the prince piqued a brow. Mischievous digits...accidentally tugging the paper free from its academic prison, the stout sovereign scowled. What the fuck is this about...?

Squinting at the curling letters, twisting the page in hopes of better understanding, he made a grab for his discarded eyewear--refusing to allow his irritation overwhelm his curiosity.

"I know you usually like your soda with...ice..."

The red-handed tyrant froze. He hadn't realized...hn. What had he said about keeping one's guard up...? Refuting another victory in the brat's favour, the Ouji casually turned to eye the boy, note in hand.

Gohan choked. He hadn't meant for the man to find...that so soon! Vegeta-san couldn't even read that well yet...! Terror playing tag in the sheepish Sons cherry features, he quickly looked to the floor. Mouth dry in sheer shock, he idly wondered how the prince would respond--after he nailed his ass to the wall...

Oh. Wait. Vegeta can't read it.

Releasing a sigh, a breath of life so overwhelming he was sure he'd was getting light-headed, he placed two clucking cans on the table, exhaustedly blowing a small swatch of ebony to the side in his relief. "What are you doing with my notes, Vegeta-san...?" Darn, that was close...

Eyes narrowed dangerously, the disbelieving prince glanced to the flimsy white held secure in his vice-like grip. "Your what?" What the hell was this asshole trying to pull now.

Smiling that infamous smile his line was renown for, the eldest Son of Son Goku gingerly set their glasses beside the carbonated canisters. "My notes, Vegeta-san. For my test tomorrow." He held out an expectant hand. "Unless you'd like to study and take it for me...?"

The elder man backed sharply from the boy, bumping soundlessly into the table behind him. Something did not smell right. Thrusting the paper-in-question forward, he glared at the demi-Saiyan. "Then read it." A light click of canines highlighted his request. "Out. Loud."

Forcing that alluring beam forth once more, Gohan cheerily took the letter intended for his lover, written in a passionate moment of longing and love--of the purest affection and honesty he'd ever felt, and cleared his throat.

"The Tenmei and Kansei eras were the heyday of bourgeois culture; under the influence of the Kansei reforms, however, decay began to set in.

There's something to be said about the way you sleep.

"The main goal of the shogunate during this time more or less leaned toward how to appropriately act in accordance to foreign powers in order to maintain order and purity within their country.

And I do admit I love feeling you fit into me. There's something so...satisfying...about having you like that.

"In retrospect, the arts and all the natural, domestic policies were ignored--causing unrest and irritation within the varying class divisions.

Vegeta-san...would you marry me...?

"This was the backdrop for the works produced during this period. This was the era where works depicting every day life became most sought after and nov--"

"Pah!" A sharp wave of his hand saw the paper jerked from his companion's grip and thrown to the table. "Enough of that useless blathering!" Could his eyes be that bad? Shaking the thought from his head he pushed his way past the child and back to his seat, reluctant in his retrieval of that painful novelette, however, still resigned to the necessity of it all.

Sighing, thanking the gods that saw his ever enduring luck renewed at every seeming twist and turn, the flushed Son sought the unyielding discomfort of the worn seat that had seen even more of the floor than previously thought possible. Instinct guiding his sensitive Saiyan system toward the beverages brought out to calm nerves, Gohan found himself suddenly wishing for something a little stronger. Excusing himself before the honour of his prince, the blushing boy nodded once before sliding further down into his chair, unable to escape that calculating gaze that seemed to haunt his vision daily. Nodding, opting to ignore the entire incident, purest ebon shot sanguine sight toward the skeptic in his presence "Go on."

It sounds so good on paper...but could he really bring himself to say it? Not right now...perhaps tonight...?

"Hn." Refusing to dwell on what may or may not have just occurred, Vegeta continued his performance for all present in his current court. Let him entertain the fool forthwith. Tonight...tonight it will be the boy's turn to dance....