Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

"We're gonna be late, Vegeta..." the Son gnawed anxiously on his lower lip, hands smoothing over the commonplace crease of his snowy white slacks in an effort to tame the starchy quality. He was having about as much success with the calming of his clothing as he was with a certain stubborn Saiyan prince...

"I don't care! I told you, I'm not going!" Unfortunately the insulation of the thin wall between them could have used some serious work. Gohan didn't even have to use his imagination to know what kind of obscenely pretty colours the Saiyan was painting the air behind the door.

Leaning against the grainy border of the bathroom, the demi-Saiyan sighed softly, nudging the silver up the bridge of his nose with an absent knuckle.

"Vegeta..." Slipping both hands into the cool cotton of his pockets, his ebony head rolled back along the rose-patterned plaster of the wall of their apartment. Glancing at the clock in a habit he had developed over the past hour, the taller man closed his eyes with a deep breath, before raising his irritated voice and turning his face toward the locked entrance behind. This was too much...if they left now, they'd still be seating..."You're acting like a woman!"

The enraged stuttering hissed like the fuse of its imminent explosion, the guttural syllables of sharp Saiyan swearing accenting the forceful crash and resounding scatter that heralded the doom of Dende only knew what bathing accessories. Damn it...the landlord was going to be pissed...again...

"Dende-sama, don't let it be the toilet again..." Pushing up from his self-imposed sentry, the sable half-breed strode a few leisure feet toward the safety of the kitchen. Like the intelligence he was known for, Gohan always kept at least a five-foot distance from any seething Saiyan. One tended to learn these things early on when one's father was the strongest being in the universe, and one's mate was a once-prince with a bad attitude, a height problem, and a tendency to blow things up at random. Thus his position wasn't particularly painful when the polished brass knob of their demolished bathroom was ripped unceremoniously from its convenient residence, the hollow wood that happened to be attached smashing into the faded pink of the wallpaper. It was a simple prelude to the disaster that was revealed.

"I'll make you eat those words, boy."


~ My funny valentine, sweet comic valentine... ~


The corners of his disobedient lips began to twitch. He couldn't help it. Oh...shimatta...

"What the fuck is so funny?!" The Saiyan no Ouji selected his favourite scowl as his arms crossed before his chest, the confrontational I'll-kick-your-ass stare flashing in the forefront of his ebony eyes. It had absolutely no effect amidst the graveyard of leaking shampoo bottles and monument of the cracked shower partition.

"Vegeta..." Deciding his efforts at salvations were more important than self preservation, Gohan cautiously approached his fumingly consternated counterpart, stepping purposefully over the foaming remains of his shaving cream. "You've never tied a bow-tie before, have you..." drawing his brow over the midnight of his eyes, the Son reached for the dangling ends of the fashionably misunderstood accent. Sighing as his hands were slapped aside, the demi-Saiyan prayed to Dende for patience while exercising his ability to count to ten.

"I don't need your help, you baka half-wit." Snubbing his helpless companion, the Ouji interlaced his arms again, tilting his chin toward the ceiling in a disregarding gesture. Drastic times...

"You look like a dog, Vegeta," the larger man rapped shamelessly on the other's cherished ego, bypassing his prince's defenses as the shock rang resonant in widened obsidian and jerking the ends of the childishly bound black around his lover's neck. "Now stop acting like a child. It's just a wedding." Narrowing his eyes, the Son challenged the silent fury of his mate, deft fingers working some semblance of elegance back into the evasive fabric. "Your daughter's wedding, for Dende's sake. And while you may be able to say to hell with the world and everything in it," looping the material with a final tug that saw the man before him stumble upward onto his tiptoes, nose to nose with his antagonist, Gohan matched the unwavering glare of his mate, "I'm not going to miss my brother getting married."

Ignoring the growl of perpetual annoyance, the younger man used his unfair advantage to lay claim to his lover's lips, hands releasing their hold on the straightened collar to encase the slender camber of the prince's hips. Sooth the ever savage beast...


~ You make me smile with my heart~


It took the coaxing of his tantalizing tongue tip to part the white anger of his paramour's mouth, the massaging of hands large enough to conquer the cloth-covered curvature of the slighter Saiyan's impressive back enticing the limbs so used to crossing shed their habitual stance and take up temporary residence in the immaculate fabric field of the demi-Saiyan's shirt. It was breathlessly they broke their moistened bond, Vegeta's fingers clenching tighter within the powder blue pinstripe and dragging the other down to his deprived level.

"I still hate you," the Saiyan no Ouji snarled. But the achievement was abandoned as soft lips descended, dipping beneath the unyielding barrier of the taller Saiyan's constricting neckline. "I am your prince, you know..." The gentle vibration of his primal purr shot through the blushing Son like an electric shock, the warm tingling in his face rivaling the pastel pallor of the plaster. Closing his eyes to the comfortable caressing strands of night-kissed black, Gohan inhaled deeply of his mate's musky Saiyan scent. His chest rumbled quietly in response, arms gathering the diminutive monarch closer, a protective nuzzle into the warm mass of mussed sable. Dende-sama...his body veritably sang with the love and possessive song of devotion and utter dependant loyalty to his prince...

Opening his eyes with a meditative sigh, the half-Saiyan ran a loving hand up through his smaller counterpart's obsidian hair, gaze staring unseeingly at a clock which read--

Gohan blinked. Quarter to six. Kuso!

"And as your prince..." A lick to his ear had him seeing stars, one hand tracing the silver outline of his belt buckle while the other mischievous appendage fingered the button at his throat. "I think we can afford to miss this useless ningen ceremony." One dexterous digit slid beneath the slick leather, pulling it free from the sterling confinements. Swallowing with difficulty at his lover's sudden seduction, Son Gohan summoned all known Saiyan strength to combat his companion's sensuality. Dende-sama...sometimes life was so unfair.

"Vegeta..." Groaning at the softness of tongue and stinging clarity of teeth, the younger man managed a deep, hitching breath. His plea was cast aside as another polished movement of the prince's exploratory hands had his buckle undone.

"Vegeta-san..." The honourary title earned him another gracious deprivation of clothing as four buttons that he had striven hard to join went the way of his belt. Dammit, all that work...the man didn't even know...

"Vegeta-sama..." Gohan was graced with a growl for his verbal exoneration, a licking tickle behind his ear that hardened ever so much more than his resolution.

"Hai, Gohan..." Oh, now that wasn't fair, saying his name like that...the bastard...

Taking matters into his own hands, the determined Son shoved his rising lust back into his pants and stood up straight, forcing the smaller man to either release his grip or follow forward. Using his flickering irritation at being so easily distracted to fuel his resolve, Gohan glared at his sultry opposition.

"Well...you are our prince, ne, Vegeta?" The slighter man immediately sobered, wary of the too-happy tone his lover adopted. Gliding his palms over the muscled arms he decadently loved to feel encircle his waist, the older Saiyan narrowed untrusting onyx upward. The boy was clever...and he wasn't foolish enough to underestimate him. Not after that unmentionable roller skating incident...

"Then as our prince you should have certain duties to your subjects..." A gentle jingle as the buckle was reinstated. One crafty brow arched. "Like giving away your daughter..."

Shimatta. Fucked again.


~ Your looks are laughable, unphotographable...~


Chuckling at the utter demolition of Vegeta's seduction with a quiver of relief, the coal-caressed demi-Saiyan brushed a stray ball of stark white fuzz off the Ouji's black blazer. Snarling, the prince turned abruptly away from his wily cohort, sealing his inevitable discontent with the locking of his limbs.

"Leave." One hand waved dismissively. "I don't care for this stupid human ritual." The sable head bowed slightly and the solid tone softened to a whisper. "I'm not going."

"Ouji-sama..." Imploring his obstinate Ouji, the weary Son fumbled idly with his mistreated buttons, stumbling away from the ruins of the bathroom to follow his perturbed lover. "Why are you being so stubborn about this? Bra wants you to go," the back of his hand returned his glasses to their post, "and even Goten asked you to be there." Frustrated fingers raked through his unmanageable hair. "I don't understand, Vegeta..." Pleading to the unmoving back of his mate, the demi-Saiyan hesitated to touch the temperamental prince. "Explain it to me...?"

A great exhale seemed to deflate the older image, gaze lowering to study the intricacies of a carpet known to contend with the complexity of a Magic Eye picture. When he finally spoke, Gohan was reluctantly compelled to ask the man to repeat himself. He was obstinately certain his hearing had, along with his diminishing eyesight, deserted him at last.

"I can't dance."


~ But you're my favourite work of art.~


Gohan didn't know whether to laugh or envelope the other Saiyan within the comfort of his arms; the unconscious toeing of carpet by the immaculate new shoes he had wrestled onto his more conservative lover made him want to draw the Ouji onto his lap and sooth the severity of real life away...

Unfortunately he knew that would only gain him a broken nose and a night on the couch.

Smiling gently, the Son placed affectionately light fingertips on Vegeta's rigid shoulder. Moving around the axis of his palm, the demi-Saiyan came to stand before the sovereign so unusually adamant to disregard his duty. Oh, Dende-sama...

"Vegeta..." Loving pads lifted the blushing crimson of the prince's shamed countenance, onyx eyes that failed to acknowledge him finding visual solace on the abused scene directly behind. "Is that all?" Adoringly, Gohan traced the full, pouting mouth of his mate with the flat of his thumb, his other hand raising to its companion's height to lose worshipping digits in the unruly tendrils of the monarch's defining feature. "You don't have to dance, koi..." He risked the intimate address with a tense moment of insecurity. But the flushed Saiyan no Ouji could do little more than curse the carpet with his eyes, arms tightening protectively around his chest.

"The brat wants me to." Brat...it took the politically correct Son a fleeting second or two of brow-drawn confusion to understand exactly which of the demi-Saiyans his oh-so-imaginative lover was referring to.

"Brat? Oh, you mean Bra?" Turning his acidic stare to the side, Vegeta gave a curt nod of affirmation.

"Hai. Something about some baka tradition that involves me humiliating myself by dancing with aoi-aiji." Gohan couldn't help but smile at the Saiyan term of endearment. The warrior prince never had quite gotten over the rather colourful personification of his children.

"You mean how the first dance is with the bride and her father." It somehow all made a sadistic sort of sense. Vegeta hadn't even been this vocally reluctant to attend his son's wedding to the eldest Son. That had been Gohan's place to gracefully lose his practiced control--the idea of his father with his lover's son didn't quite sit...but apparently all that time in space looking for the black star dragonballs had drawn them...closer together. Hn, at least Trunks hadn't ended up with his daughter...although Pan had been brutally disappointed to know that her Ojiisan was marrying the man of her dreams. And Gohan hadn't really been in any situation to preach on the difference in age...

Eventually Pan had thrown up her hands in frustration and declared that the whole world was going gay and she was having no part of it. Last time the demi-Saiyan had gone to visit her at his ex-wife's she had permanently sworn off men. He idly wondered if she was still seeing that nice girl...

"Listen, Vegeta," Gohan glanced over his shoulder at the impatient clock on the wall above the refrigerator. Almost six...well, they'd miss the pep talk to the bride and groom, but Go-chan always had their father for...damn. He'd have to make this quick. "Here..." Clasping the older man's arms at the bicep, the obsidian-blessed half-breed pulled the prince free from his emotive enclosure and toward the center of the room. "We have a little time. I can teach you."


~ Is your figure less than Greek ?~


Dusting himself an appropriate shade of corresponding pink, the Son's admiring gaze flickered wantonly over the formal attire that only managed to make his mate even more alluring. As if that were even heavenly possible...but the Saiyan prince looked damn fine in a tux, for once dressed to kill without the promise of blood, complete with tails that had nothing to do with Saiyan physiology.

"Put your hands on my waist." The demi-Saiyan swallowed at the hentai smirk that bedecked the sudden look of lust and lascivious longing in the glittering mirror of more experienced onyx. Guiding the powerful palms to his hips, Gohan ran both of his own up the sculpted shoulders to lie against the back of both blades. "Now...watch my feet. Follow my steps." Skeptical ebony searched for any stray trail of condescendence. When it wasn't found, the fingers around his broader waist cinched and the royal visage was lost to the floor and the feet that occupied it.

"When I step forward," the instruction was punctuated by the consequent action, "you step back." Vegeta promptly gained ground backward, much to his lover's chagrin, who stumbled clumsily forward. "Iie, matte...just the foot I step toward, Vegeta. Like this," Gohan demonstrated, pushing at the shoe he wished to move with the shiny tip of his own.

"Think of it like fighting, koi," the younger remarked after several exhausting minutes of attempting to explain the concept of making a box on the floor.

One brow arched in unrequited elegance that had the boy feeling like first love all over again. A simple action from Vegeta was like going to the ballet...he couldn't envision anything more unimaginable than the Saiyan prince being insecure about dancing...

"You want me to ki-blast my daughter?" Then again, the man made it a point to keep him on his tiptoes...

"Nani? Iie!" The young Son stopped abruptly, consequently resulting in the squashing of toes and harmonized cursing. "Do you see those words?" The prince's perplexed stare followed the other's focused gaze to their feet. "You took them, threw them to the floor and mutilated their meaning!" The corner of Vegeta's mouth crinkled in amusement, then smoothed into irritation as Gohan moved again, concurrently crunching the stiff leather of his strict footwear.

"Then what the fuck are you talking about?" Removing himself from beneath Gohan's greater mass, the Saiyan prince willed the foreign sensation of...patience into his actions. The boy was surely going to hell for this one...along with his good intentions.


~ Is your mouth a little weak ?~


Grimacing at the harsh inquisition, the younger man stepped away from his lover, fingers trailing over the encompassing cage of stiffened black that embraced him.

"Grace, Vegeta..." Swallowing, Gohan felt like a stammering boy again, the reassertion of his companion's elegance and finesse staining the definition of his cheeks a sunset shade of rose. "You have so much of it, koi. I don't know why..." Gripping the hands he adored, the adamant demi-Saiyan squeezed both tightly in his own, bringing them from their seclusion of his waist to lie within his larger palms. "You can't know--what it is to see you, everyday, and only wish that I could possess as much...grace..." Kuso, he was shredding this into unrecognizable admiration. He bit his lip as the ebony opposite widened, the naked fingers lying uncharacteristically limp against his wrist, almost fragile to the touch, and without the pristine white of the gloves that separated the taciturn Ouji from the imperfections of humanity. "You're so perfect, Vegeta." Kneading his lower lip between gnawing teeth, Gohan elevated uncertain onyx through the thickness of concealing lashes. "I wish you could see...what I see..."


~ When you open it to speak~


Vegeta blinked blankly. The boy's tone was...almost...reverent...he had not been so respectfully addressed in decades. His own people may have bowed in respect, fought him with pride, or executed his will with a fierce sense of tribal loyalty, but this boy...this half-breed that shared his bed, laughed at his sarcasm, and listened with a student's ear to the softly spoken words of a warrior race that once had the whole of the universe by the throat...

For once all the solitary sovereign could do was stand...and take it.

He had no fucking clue how to fight a compliment. He couldn't kick it, or kill it, or even eat it...it just lie there in the air between them where it was lovingly arranged and the Saiyan remained statuesquely fixated on the unbuttoned blue of his mate's collar.

Slightly quivering, Vegeta's fingers slid beneath the upturned digits of the clammy hand. This was almost as bad as the time his idiot son had announced his engagement to that bumbling blue-blood bakayaro. He hadn't known exactly what to do then, either. How does one respond to the news of their son's engagement to their one-time adversary? He had thought it disgusting, idiotic--how could that impertinently childish bastard give his son and heir what he needed, what a Saiyan prince deserved? He hadn't understood...

And then Vegeta had unexpectedly tasted the exquisite flavour of Kakarotto's older son and it had all magically become clear...just like one of those fucking pictures...

He had to admit, though, it had gotten a bit muddled somewhere in the middle--what the fuck did roses have to do with mating? What kind of substitute was chocolate for a hunt? And where in the hell did it say that the language of sweet nothings was a mandatory course for gaining a degree in love?

"I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Vegeta," Gohan whispered, gently pulling back his hands and pushing his fingers to lock with his counterpart's, curling them to join their palms, combining their mutual warmth of embarrassment. "You don't have to worry about it, lover...everything you do is wonderful."

Shimatta...the Saiyan no Ouji was suddenly kicked in the ass with breath-stealing intuition. The demi-brat wasn't looking at him with those pleadingly persuasive liquid eyes. No, they definitely held an altered tint...Vegeta had seen it in the eyes of his father's mate before the bastard had sacrificed himself to Frieza to save the life of his lover.

Utter adoration and devotion.

And it scared the shit out of him.


~ Are you smart ?~


"I..." It was difficult to breathe, like being simultaneously kicked in the nuts and socked in the jaw. He never knew words alone contained so much power... "I have to..." Vegeta jerked back one hand, pulse rushing to consume, bringing with it a buzz that sent him to the edge of vertigo. Think, quick...anything...

"I have to...brush my hair!" What the fuck? Gohan's brow shot up, fingers loosening in their misunderstanding and allowing the flustered prince to back away. Well, it had always worked with that damn onna, and aoi-aiji. He couldn't believe the number of events they had been late for, that he had bitched for being subject to attend in the first place, because of that foolish task. There was little doubt the boy's brother would be forced to wait at the fucking altar while his daughter made herself presentable.

Ruby infused the caramel pallor of his mortified complexion. He had just said that... Good gods, he was about to go fucking Super Saiyan out of humiliation alone. Abruptly turning his back on the outstretched hand of his speechless mate, Vegeta moved to cross both arms over his chest, swallowing past the apprehensive lump in his throat.


~ Don't change a hair for me~


"Matte, Vegeta-san," Gohan reverted to title he had used as a child, before the man he had thought to fear became the man he knew to love. Stepping forward, the demi-Saiyan wrapped long fingers around the wrist of his mate, the momentum of his haste pulling on the coarse black of the prince's proper apparel. "I..." Looking into eyes the colour of pitch, the Son couldn't help but straighten in silent surprise. The unfathomable sable that he had seen so often sparkle sapphire in anger contained an uncertain flicker of alarm as the younger man licked his dry lips timidly. Oh, shimatta, this was either going to go well...

Or he was going to end up on the wrong end of an energy beam.

"I've...wanted to ask you something, Vegeta." Trembling, one hand ran a schizophrenic path through the carefully combed upsweep of his hair. Good Dende-sama...now wasn't the time...but if he didn't do it now...

"It...never seemed the right time before," the Son coughed with a shaky smile. "And knowing me, I'm going to get it wrong, but..." He blushed a delicate cotton candy pink. "I love you just the way you are, koi...and I...was wondering..."


~ Not if you care for me~


The Saiyan no Ouji blinked, breath hitching as that lovely visage he had always viewed from below suddenly regarded him respectfully from the ground. Gohan's Saiyan sable dipped as he clasped both of Vegeta's hands in his own, the tips cold from a nervousness that the Ouji could smell.

"If you..." The taller man shifted on his knee, the colourless cloth crinkling with his movement. "If you'd..." Somehow all the biting words of senseless sarcasm that would have hurried the boy along were lost to the beauty of his blushing form. Damn the boy...

Composing himself, the young Son idly coaxed his glasses back to their designated position, swallowing his fear, forgetting the time, and looking his lover straight in the eye asked...so quietly Vegeta was moved to bend to hear the stuttered plea...

"Vegeta-san...marry me?" The sweaty fingers tightened as he licked his ruby lips again, and the stunned Ouji could do nothing...think nothing...holy fucking Namek...

"Onegai...?" Gohan was immediately self-conscious of his prone situation, of the utter lack of acknowledgement that had his onyx eyes stinging with the promise of disappointment. He'd wanted to ask the Saiyan for so long...with the marriage of his father, and the successive engagement of his brother...Gohan was beginning to feel his age. But had he rushed it? Vegeta's velvety depths revealed nothing; the emotion the demi-Saiyan fought so hard to conceal wasn't even suppressed. Kuso...

After an agonizing minute of which, the clock ticked off each sadistic second, Son Goku's oldest son gathered the tattered fabric of his pride and stood on unstable legs. Brushing aside the crystal condensation with his sleeve, the ebony half-breed pivoted from the predictably passive face of the man he wished would speak, snort, or call him a baka...for Dende's sake...anything...

But who was he kidding anyway? Vegeta was a prince...and he...he was just the son of a low class baka that happened to share his bed.

"I'm going to the wedding, Vegeta," he murmured, retrieving his pale blazer from the back of the chair he had carefully laid it across. "G...gomen nasai, koi." He slipped one arm through the thick material. The prince unmoving in his peripheral caused a constriction in his chest that could not be ignored, but true to his upbringing, the Son continued, pulling the fabric across his chest and leaning over the table to scoop up the cool silver keys before dropping them into his pocket. Sighing heavily, Gohan lifted his damp eyes from the floor. He'd have to at least attempt to look happy for Go-chan...this was his big day...even if he'd never have the pleasure of doing the same again. His marriage to Videl had been a bit of a disaster. How was he suppose to know he was allergic to primroses? But it had gotten better after all the swelling went down...even if the champagne on their honeymoon had made him nauseous. Huh, maybe it was a good thing Vegeta hadn't readily accepted his proposal...

"Boy."


~ Stay little valentine...stay~


"Mm?" The Saiyan no Ouji's voice commanded his attention, demanded that his head turn to look over his shoulder, even though it took all the gumption he possessed bid a grateful adieu to the floor and meet the older man's gaze. Which he didn't...he made it to the Saiyan's knees before his confidence faltered and abandoned him on the highway of confrontation.

The prince's footfalls were soundless on the carpet, save the occasion squeak of uncreased patent leather as he crossed the distance between them. Vegeta stopped a kissable length from his taller companion, the shock of the boy's question outdone only by the magnitude of his leaving. This was not yet finished...

Arching an artistically sculpted brow, the Ouji pressed the flat of his sweaty palms on the other's broad chest, refusing the even admit to the anxiety that fought for his attention. The baka had jumped to conclusions before the man even had the time to process his...unexpected...request...

Shaking his regal head, the Saiyan caressed his hands in a possessive path down his mate's front to rest on the curving dip of his sensuous hips.

"Baka na," he chastised almost affectionately, pulling the dumbstruck demi-Saiyan forward until the were little more than a breath apart, Gohan's gasp blowing a part in his renegade mane. Cocking an eye upward, the Ouji smirked, one foot sliding deliberately to collide with his larger counterpart. The boy stumbled, finding his balance as both hands wrapped around the shoulders of his lover. "When I step forward..." he emphasized the movement, "you step back." The Son wordlessly did as he was told, pride eventually outshining the shock in bright obsidian as the monarch executed the maneuver with nary a mistake.

"Yatta, Vegeta-san!" Throwing his arms around the chuckling form of his mate, Gohan hugged him adoringly, nestling his face into the comfortable crook of the older Saiyan's neck and inhaling deeply of his soothing scent. Smiling, the distress and embarrassment wilting away with his paramour's passionate press of lips and teeth to the flesh below his ear.

"Hai, Gohan." A zephyr of heat that gave him chills, made him pause...

Son Gohan pulled back with a start, to inquire, to make sure he wasn't imagining the smile that graced his lover's lips, the agreement in his shadowy sable...

But by the time he had words to speak and do more than senselessly gawk at the retreating form of his lover, Vegeta was at the door, toe tapping mock irritation as Gohan rushed to tuck his brother's gift under his arm, straighten his glasses, one last look to make sure he turned off the stove...

The prince was in the hall by the time he had the key clicking in the door, striding for the lamp-lit exit with buoyancy and self-assurance that had Gohan striving to muffle his girlish giggles. Narrowing his calculating eyes as the boy rushed to follow, the Ouji glared behind, the demi-Saiyan stopping short against his body with a grunt. Appraising his paramour, the man emitted a soft growl of approval before turning the knob and subjecting them both to the freshness of outside air.

"But if you think I'm wearing a fucking dress, I suggest you ask the Namek instead."


~Each day is Valentine's day.~


Song: My Funny Valentine Elvis Costello's rendition