Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pushing through pain is usually a very bad idea, but today is one of those days where you're glad that you went for it. You've planned this trip for weeks, and canceling would have been a shame.

It's still strange to you that your online friend is none other than Bulma Briefs. You know her first from Discord, and from there, you've shared photos of your lives and interests without knowing each other's names. 

Bulma revealed herself to you a few months ago. It's an honor to have her trust, given all she's gone through as a famous person. 

You are happy to know the real Bulma— not the wild party girl that the tabloids portray. She loves to have fun, but prefers an adventure over partying. 

Well, adventure is an understatement. She's told you a lot about what's really going on in the world behind the scenes. 

You're hesitant to believe Bulma's stories about these crazy, superpowered people, but, you'll find out soon enough.

You're staying at Bulma's place for a little while. She wants some girl time, and doesn't want to deal with the press by going out somewhere. She also wants to spend time with a normal, non-superpowered person. 

You suspect the latter part has more to do with her ex than anything. 

You close your eyes and sigh. Capsule Corp reminds you more of a university campus than a home, but the balcony you're on is small and private. The late spring breeze carries the faint scent of cookouts and soft, damp earth. You're perfectly comfortable in your sweatpants and thin, long-sleeved shirt, which is a relief; you couldn't be bothered to put effort into your appearance today.

It's just as well, anyway. You don't want to catch attention of  these alleged ruffians Bulma's family is housing. 

Bulma tells you about them at length. There's a prince, a bodyguard, and a mook— at least, these appear to be their roles. You wonder what Bulma was thinking when she invited one of them to live with her, then revived the other two with the Dragon Balls. 

Then again, if her tales about her friend, Goku, are true, these guys won't dare to mess with her. The way she talks about him makes him seem so much like Superman— down to his alien origins— and she always emphasizes his goodness and kindness whenever she speaks of him. 

But, he's like a guard dog when it comes to his friends. Bulma is perfectly safe, thanks to that. 

He sounds like a good man, and you wonder if he has a single brother.

You and Bulma are day-drinking; she's been going on about her ex for some time. You've never met him, and while he doesn't seem like a terrible guy, his relationship with Bulma has been a mismatch for years. 

You'll meet Yamcha soon enough; he's offered to fly you and Bulma to and from a party at Kame house later this week. Yamcha has even volunteered to drive you two around if you decide to go get drinks.

In light of all of that, he doesn't sound that bad. But you don't offer an opinion one way or another. You're sure that she just needs to talk it out.

Bulma sighs and looks down at her drink.

“I know I shit on him a lot,” she says. “But that's from a dating standpoint. He's a great friend.”

You nod. “I can see that.”

She sighs. “He was my first everything, so I guess part of me felt more attached to the familiarity of the whole thing. I'm not sure what I want, now. What kind of person do you want?” 

“I want to feel special and safe,” you admit. “With my health problems, I'm worried that they'll run off at the first sign of me struggling."

Bulma nods. 

“Look at us, with these trust issues,” she laughs. “I think I'm just going to date myself for a while, eh?” 

You laugh and nod in agreement. You know yourself very well, and you trust your judgment. 

Bulma downs the last sip of her drink, then gives you a cheeky look. 

“I'm getting another,” she says. “This shit's good.” 

You laugh. “I'll be on that, too, in a minute.”

With her glass in hand, Bulma stands and makes her way through the patio door to the kitchen. She starts preparing another drink.

You wonder how Bulma has dealt with knowing so many secrets all these years. Perhaps, she's gotten desensitized to the whole thing. You're not sure if you could do the same. 

You can't help but stare a bit as a shirtless man walks into the kitchen. Everything about him is intense— from his black, spiky hair, to his dark, dangerous-looking eyes. His posture is flawless, yet he looks more tense than a rubber band about to snap. You wonder about the origin of all of the scars across his torso, but freeze as you take in the long, repetitive ones down his back.

Those marks look disturbingly like whipping scars; this must be one of the Saiyans. They're formerly enslaved, and the scars on this man unfortunately bear witness to this fact. 

You don't feel pity, however. His overall countenance is a contradicting mix of elegance, tension, authority, and wariness. If anything, you feel an odd sort of respect for the dignified man in front of you. 

As Bulma walks up to him to say something, you notice with a start that they are the same height, and appear to be almost of a similar weight. 

This petite man's presence gives him an aura of someone twice his size. He's undoubtedly dangerous, and you would have gathered that at a glance, even if you didn't already know he's a former child soldier. 

This must be Prince Vegeta. He's everything Bulma says, and you'll add in that he's the epitome of Big Dick Energy. 

There's an odd intensity between Bulma and Vegeta. She admits that she finds him attractive, but you think that anyone with eyes would.

Bulma says something to him as she finishes making her drink and turns her nose up in a haughty pout. She makes her way back out to the patio, and you watch as Vegeta glares at her with contempt. 

His gaze flickers a bit lower than necessary and you have to fight to keep from snickering. It's interesting to see that Saiyans, despite their self-asserted superiority, work similarly to humans. And Bulma? She's stunning. Of course he's gonna look.

Bulma slides the screen door of the patio open, then shuts it behind her with more force than necessary. 

“That jerk criticized our drinking,” she huffed. “As if I don't work my ass off all the time for the benefit of his training.” 

Vegeta rolls his eyes as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. 

You chuckle and shake your head.

“Well, don't work too hard,” you say. “It'd be a shame if you worked all of that fabulous ass off.”

You take a sip of your drink and glance over the rim of your glass toward the kitchen. You're not as sly as you think you are; Vegeta is staring right at you, and you make eye contact.

Good God. You now know what a rabbit feels when it sees a coyote. 

“You're right,” Bulma says. “I should be more careful with my fabulous ass.”

She sits back down at the table and you're relieved for the distraction. Vegeta is doing his own thing, now, but you still feel residual anxiety from his intense stare. 

You take another sip of your drink and glance back to Bulma. You wonder if she's noticed Vegeta checking her out. It's more likely that she hasn't, given that she's never mentioned it to you. You wonder how much trouble you can stir up if you tell her.

You shelve the idea as a ruckus inside draws your attention back toward the kitchen. 

The biggest man you've seen in your entire life is raiding the fridge. He's a tan, solid wall of muscle. Between that, his shaved head, the hooked shape of his nose, and his well-manicured mustache, he reminds you very much of a pro wrestler from the 90s. This one must be Nappa.

Bulma seems to indicate during your talks that Nappa is gross, but he looks just fine. Right away, you know what type of woman would like him— tan, with long, straight hair striped blonde and brown, hoop earrings, a cowboy hat, jean shorts—

Maybe you're still thinking about the wrestler thing. Regardless, if he wants to go out, he won't have any trouble, at least, in regards to his looks. Hell, even if he's obnoxious, he can easily find someone to overlook that. 

“Ey! Water boy!” 

You purse your lips as he hollers down the hall. Nappa is obnoxious, isn't he?

“Get over here, ya sissy!” 

Alright, that's a bit obnoxious.

Vegeta rolls his eyes and takes a seat at the nearby breakfast bar. “If he's going to be lazy, then let him.” 

Nappa sighs but acquiesces. He continues to remove countless containers and condiments from the fridge, several of which he places in front of Vegeta. 

You're watching a grown-ass man serve another grown-ass man like he's a child. You wonder if you're being too harsh, but you watch as Nappa pulls a plate from the microwave to place it in front of Vegeta. 

You're not sure if this is typical for Saiyan royalty, but to you, it's a bad look nonetheless. 

Nappa fills a glass with some ice, removes two cubes, fills it with water, then places it in front of Vegeta. 

He turns again to look down the hall.

“Hey!” he shouts. “If you don't come get some food, I'll feed it to the bitches! And I don't mean the dogs.”

Okay. Yep. Obnoxious.

You glance over at Nappa and fix him with a glare.

“Right, and whose house are you staying in?” you call.

He looks in your direction and scoffs. “I know. That woman treats us like pets.”

You shrug, look down at your drink, and poke at the ice cubes with your straw. 

“Well, on this planet,” you say, “we castrate our pets. It keeps them from overpopulating, and eliminates undesirable behaviors. I could arrange that for you, if needed. I'd just have to find a rusty spoon.”

Nappa glares at you and Vegeta lets out a cruel laugh. You're not sure whether to count this as a win, or if you've dug yourself into a hole. 

Well, since the boss is laughing, you suppose you've gained at least half a point on his good side— if he has one.

You turn your attention to your drink, then back to the kitchen as the ruckus continues. Nappa grumbles something about laziness that you don't quite catch—

Oh!

You flinch at the sudden sensation in the pit of your stomach. It feels like you've been struck by lightning. 

That's him.

Wow. 

The last of the Saiyans has entered the kitchen and he's possibly one of the most striking people you've ever seen. One glance at this man, and you're already stupid over him.

The first things you notice are his size and his hair, both of which are massive. He's the second-biggest person you've ever seen, next to Nappa.

His hair? You can't make sense of how such a thing can exist on a former mercenary known for going into all sorts of dangerous situations. Though it is pitch black, the shine to his hair looks almost silver when the light hits it a certain way. It's straight and grows in long layers that taper in a v shape to his knees. 

You suspect the layers are really just from him never cutting his hair; the ends of each layer have a taper to them that looks like it could be thinned from wear. 

You don't know what the red band around his bicep and his thigh are for, but you like them. They draw attention to some really nice features. It's a shame he's wearing a t-shirt. You'd like to get a peek at those muscles. 

It's a shame he's wearing shorts, too— clothing, in general, to be honest. 

You purse your lips and look down at your drink. 

Bad girl. This is a person. He's a very hot person, but still, a person. 

Nonetheless, you can't help looking at him again. He's taken over for Nappa in preparing food. 

His face is an interesting mix of delicate and masculine— a long, slim heart shape, a slender button nose, high, well-defined cheekbones, and a strong brow over hooded eyes the color of which are so dark that they look black. The contrasting pretty face is fascinating paired with his thick, muscular body. 

They definitely don't make them like this on Earth, that's for sure. 

You notice what appears to be a black, fuzzy belt around his waist, and you figure this must be the tail Bulma has told you about. With how sensitive it is, you suppose it makes sense that he keeps it close to himself. 

Come to think of it, Nappa has the same thing, but sable-colored, wrapped around his waist. You didn't check him out long enough to register it, though. 

By process of elimination, this must be Raditz. He hasn't seemed to notice you, as Nappa is giving him a thorough tongue-lashing. 

Bulma told you that Raditz was the first Saiyan to come to Earth. He kidnapped and held Gohan hostage in exchange for Goku killing one hundred people. Apparently, he also slapped Gohan around a bit. Then, when Goku came to rescue Gohan, Raditz beat the crap out of him. The only way they could stop him was from Goku holding him down while Piccolo shot them both. 

Goku, of course, didn't kill any people like Raditz ordered. 

This guy apparently did all of that godawful stuff. You can believe that Vegeta and Nappa are dangerous, just from your brief interaction with them. But Raditz? 

His shoulders are slumped, and he's looking down. You haven't seen someone look so defeated in a very long time. He doesn't look like such a horrible person. Maybe, he felt like he had no choice but to threaten Goku.

Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to Bulma. You're too nice, but at least you're aware of it. 

Still, Bulma brought him back and lets him live here for a reason. Maybe he isn't all that terrible.

Regardless, he's definitely your type, and you know that you'll be hopeless if he shows any interest in you. 

Raditz isn't wanted. He isn't wanted here; he isn't wanted at his brother's. He isn't wanted anywhere.

He is un-fucking-wanted.

It isn't Vegeta and Nappa who revived him. It isn't even his soft-hearted brother. 

No; it was Kakarot's friend who brought him back to life—

A friend who doesn't understand shit about power levels, no less. Sure, she understands the basic idea that he's the weakest of the Saiyans. But, at the time of her wish, she didn't understand the absurd gap which now stands between them. 

Nappa is powerful enough on his own to kick his shit in without a thought.

Vegeta is on a completely different level, at this point. He was powerful enough to kill Zarbon and Dodoria, and surpassed Captain Ginyu himself in power by the time he made his attempt on Frieza's life.  

And Kakarot? His power is on an entirely different plane. His power ascended to the heights of legend, and he executed retribution upon Frieza for his colonization and enslavement of the Saiyans. 

Apparently, a pair of murderous cyborgs multitudes stronger than Frieza will appear in the near future to destroy the Earth. The woman, Bulma, thinks that perhaps, Nappa and he can help.

She revived them of her own accord; otherwise, someone would have put a stop to her lunacy. The power gap is far too wide. 

Ever-faithful, Nappa endures training with Vegeta with unexpected grace. His power continues to grow by the day, though the gap isn't closing fast enough to his liking. 

And Raditz? They use him as a punching bag until he can't move. Then, when he finally struggles to his feet, they repeat the process, insulting him all the while. It's never enough to get a nice Zenkai for his troubles, though. 

Since the gap between them is so big, he's not even sure if he's gotten any stronger. Raditz hasn't been given any chance to test himself. 

It's not too different from how things were before their squad imploded, but things worsen by the day. Vegeta grows more spiteful, and Nappa follows along. 

Kakarot doesn't want to talk to him whatsoever. Raditz accepts that; he knows he deserves it. Still, the sheer weight of being unwanted by everyone and knowing that his revival is basically an accident—

He needs something to distract him from the circling thoughts. He is weak. He is alone. He has nothing to show for his life. He's thirty years old and trapped and helpless and the gap in power levels between him and everyone else is so insurmountable that he's utterly worthless. 

At least they're not messing up his handsome face. He's waiting for it though; at some point, one of them is going to intentionally mess with his appearance. 

That's all he has left, really. 

Raditz wants to go out and treat himself to some fawning humans. But, Vegeta's got a stick up his ass worse than usual, and he seems to want everyone else to be as miserable as he is. It's a shame; Raditz knows he can get free drinks, and hook up with just about anyone he wants. Unlike Vegeta and Nappa, he's educating himself about this planet. 

At least Nappa has stopped lecturing him, for now. He just wants to eat and be left the hell alone.

With all the noise going on out on the patio, though, he realizes he will, once again, not get what he wants. He pauses in the middle of unwrapping some leftovers from last night and glances out to the patio to see what the ruckus is. 

There's a woman he hasn't seen before sitting across from Bulma in the shade. This must be the friend that Bulma said was coming to visit. 

Raditz immediately changes his mind about wanting to be left alone. 

She's stunning. He notices her sparkling eyes and smile right away. Bulma says something that amuses her, and she laughs out loud. 

Her laugh falters when she catches Raditz staring. A knot of anxiety forms in his stomach at her sudden change of expression. 

The woman blinks, quickly shakes her head, and gives him a beaming smile. 

Yes, she can bother him all she likes. Maybe, he can bother her in return. 

Raditz quickly turns his attention back to his food. He needs to be very careful with this. Vegeta's patience and his temper are the worst he's ever seen them. Raditz knows that he won't approve of him even looking at the woman. 

But, if he can get her alone, he's going to push his luck, even if it means he gets beaten severely. If he really fucks it up, then she's only going to be there for a few more days, and he won't have to see her again. He's had a long streak of being a fuckup, at this point. The risk is worth the potential win.

She should be honored that he's considering her, really. 

A bitter thought comes to his mind: he doesn't feel like his presence ought to honor such a weakling as he used to. He's not that much above her, in relative terms. 

Fucking hell. Raditz never thought he'd end up a free man, and it's way more complicated than he imagined. 

He glances over at Vegeta and fights the urge to sigh. Raditz is semi-free, really. 

Bulma and her friend both stand up from the table on the patio, tuck their chairs in, and make their way to the door. He watches them step inside, and it's all he can do to keep his tail wrapped around his waist. The last thing he needs is Vegeta or Nappa noticing his interest. 

Still, he can feel the fur over his caudal gland standing on end. At least his hair covers that.

Bulma's friend is wearing baggy clothes, but Raditz can make out a nice figure in there. He wishes he hadn't noticed, as he's all the more intrigued.

“So, the key is how you mix it,” Bulma says. “It's actually called 'Better than Sex'.”

Her friend snorts. “Sounds like whoever invented it is having bad sex.”

A vicious, cackling laugh comes from Bulma. She's clearly halfway to plastered. 

“Oh, guys,” she says. “This is my friend.”

Vegeta and Nappa introduce themselves. When Bulma's friend gives them the same smile she gave Raditz a minute ago, his heart sinks. She must be friendly to everyone, just like most other humans.

Then, she turns to Raditz. It seems like she can barely look at him; she bites her lower lip and looks to the side, her face flushing.

Well, that's potentially a good sign. Perhaps, he was wrong. Raditz needs to introduce himself.

“Hey, I'm Ra—"

He clears his throat, which quickly turns into a coughing fit. His voice is fucked from accidentally inhaling volcanic fumes on a planet they were sent to conquer. It hasn't bothered him much until now.

Vegeta bursts out in laughter and Nappa shakes his head.

Goddammit.

Raditz takes a sip of water and clears his throat again.

“Well, I didn't throw myself into that fucking volcano,” he rasps, shooting his comrades a dirty look.

The woman's eyes widen in shock.

“Holy shit, you can survive that?”

He chuckles. “Of course. It would take a lot more than that to take me down.”

She gapes. “Wow. That's impressive.”

Nappa snorts and mumbles under his breath about it not being that impressive. 

He's not going to let that get to him. The pretty little thing in front of him damn near made his day. 

“Anyway,” he says, “I'm Raditz.”

She fidgets in place and bites her lip.

“Nice to meet you, Raditz,” she says.

He likes the way she says his name. Between that and the way she blushes, his mind quickly tumbles into the gutter.

He'd love to have her underneath him, looking and sounding like that.

There's not much else he can do or say in front of Vegeta and Nappa, and it frustrates the hell out of him. He wants to shamelessly flirt with you.

He glances behind you to see Bulma messing around with various bottles and mix-ins. Every pour is sloppy and large, and Raditz can't help but be a little concerned about how strong of a drink she's pouring for her friend. A hangover, after all, could seriously mess with his plans. 

Bulma finishes making the drink, turns around, and walks over to her friend. 

“I made it special just for you,” she says, a cheeky grin on her face. 

Raditz can't help but interject. 

“She's gonna get you wasted,” he murmurs. “But, that's none of my business.” 

He takes a sip of water and turns back to his lunch. 

Bulma's friend laughs. “Well, thankfully I have a mental stop button with alcohol.”

Vegeta glances up from his plate. 

“At least one of you does,” he grumbles. 

Bulma stomps her foot and turns on her heel to give him a nasty glare.

“You drive me to drink, asshole!” she screams. 

Her friend reels back and slowly steps back toward the patio. She clearly wants nothing to do with this.

Vegeta rolls his eyes, and Bulma's friend takes the opportunity to retreat to the patio. Raditz can't help but sigh as Bulma and Vegeta start bickering back and forth. They chased her away with their yelling. He's tempted to make his way out to the patio under the guise of also wanting peace and quiet, but Bulma abruptly ends the argument and storms back out to the patio with a drink in hand.

It figures that luck isn't on Raditz' side. He can't remember the last time he's had good fortune. 

He sighs and unlocks his phone— a gift that Bulma gave to each one of them when they took up residence there. Raditz uses whatever spare time he has trying to figure out Earthling culture. If he's going to live here, then he doesn't want to look like a total ass. 

He knows he's weak. The last thing he wants is to look stupid on top of it.

Reddit has been an absolute trove of information, and his username, “explaintomelikeImAnAlien” gets people to play along real nice.

The situation with Bulma's friend feels like it's delicate enough to warrant caution. He poses a question on Reddit as to how he ought to proceed. This isn't exactly a random bar out in space, and he's out of his element enough that he knows he could fuck this up in a very bad way.

Within minutes, his phone is going off with so many notifications that he needs to turn them off.

Hopefully, the response is overall positive. Raditz has had way too much shit go sideways for him in the past few years. 

He's going to have to make his own luck. 

Chapter Text

You've noticed some things in the little time you've been around the Saiyans:

Vegeta is, without question, the boss. Nappa has enough status, however, that he can at least make suggestions and ask questions.

Raditz gets less respect than an unpaid intern. He's the butt of almost every joke, and they pick on a wide range of topics:

His strength. His willpower. His attention span. His intelligence. His laziness. His class.

As it turns out, Nappa is a former General of the Saiyan Army, and he's a war hero as well. In contrast, it seems that Raditz is an average, middle class guy.

Also? He's Goku's older brother. It puts his actions and his position with the others in a different light, though you're still processing how. 

He did all that awful stuff to his own family. But, at the same time, he appears to have significantly underachieved, while his little brother continues to be the best. 

The other two Saiyans probably resent Raditz by proxy.

The bullying irks you to the point that you silently fume as you sit down to dinner with Bulma's family and the Saiyans. The Briefs have gone out of their way to include them with their family. And, knowing how the Briefs are, you surmise that they hope that including them will be a good influence on them.

That remains to be seen. If this is how they treat their own, you shudder to think how they treat their enemies.

You glance up from your dinner at the shocking amount of empty plates on the table. Bulma isn't kidding about these guys having an unbelievable appetite. You do your best to not gawk. Bulma and her parents— seated to your right— have long gotten used to this, and you're not about to be weird about it.

Raditz chose to sit directly across from you. To his left are Nappa, then Vegeta. You have no idea who has eaten what or how much. They're all eating like this is their last meal.

Mrs. Briefs turns to you and gives you a smile.

“How are you feeling now, sweetheart?” She asks. “I know you felt awful earlier.”

It makes you happy when someone asks how you're doing. Often, healthy people don't bother, because your answer is almost always disappointing; you're always going to be sick, to some degree. 

“Much better than earlier,” you say.

“How bad was it?” Bulma asks.

You chuckle under your breath.

“You know when you hit a bruise?” you ask. “Like that, but my entire body. Continuously.”

“Like being hit continuously?” she asks.

You shake your head. “No, like that pain level is the constant default. I dunno, it happens often enough that I don't think about it too much. But it does make it really hard to do stuff sometimes.”

Bulma's parents give you a look that is a mix of shock and horror.

You wince and look down at your plate. And, that is another reason why people don't ask you about your health. Healthy people find it disturbing.

“I forget that's not normal,” you laugh. “I just deal with it.”

“The McGill Pain Index says it's not normal,” Bulma says.

You laugh. “Ehhh it's fine.”

“Just chop it off,” she laughs. “It'll feel fine.”

“Girl, it'll feel the same,” you cackle. “Ask the index.”

Bulma laughs at your gallows humor, while the rest of the table is quiet. Even the Saiyans give you a weird look.

You're grateful for Bulma. She's one of the few healthy people who laughs along with your jokes about your pain, rather than freaking out. She's researched your illness and knows that you're doing everything you possibly can for treatments. It helps that she has an insatiable curiosity about nearly everything. She isn't pushy with you and she doesn't make unsolicited suggestions.

You turn your attention back to eating as Bulma's parents make small talk about their days.

The flurry of movement across the table, however, draws your attention. Despite there being plenty of serving dishes on the table, Nappa reaches over and steals food directly off of Raditz' plate.

This has been going on from the moment Raditz put food on his plate.

Raditz reaches over to grab another dumpling from the serving platter, but Vegeta strikes in the blink of an eye to steal the one he was about to take. When he goes to take a different one, the same thing happens, until all of the dumplings are gone.

You notice at the same time as Raditz that all the food he had on his current plate is now gone. He doesn't say a word, but the way his shoulders slump makes your heart ache. The poor guy can't catch a break. You pick up a platter that is closer to you and serve yourself.

Looking up, you stare at Nappa until he notices you. As you stare him down, you dump the rest of the food on the platter directly onto Raditz' plate, then put it down. You lean forward, put your elbow on the table, and rest your chin in your hand.

You continue to stare at Nappa with indignation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that Raditz is quickly eating the food you gave him.

Nappa scoffs. “You have a problem, wench?”

“Yeah: you,” you snap.

You're not a confrontational person, but your strong sense of fairness overrides that from time to time.

Nappa narrows his eyes at you.

“Hand me those dumplings,” he says.

There's another platter to your left. While maintaining eye contact, you pick it up and reach across the table. Instead of passing it to the right, however, you dump the contents onto Raditz' plate across from you.

“Looks like I dropped them,” you chirp. “Sorry.”

Nappa bursts out in laughter.

“Man, Raditz,” he says, “you're so weak that you've got to have a woman feed you. But you've got guts, woman.”

Raditz freezes in the middle of eating the food you gave him and sighs.

This is ridiculous. Fixing Nappa with your nastiest glare, you sit back and put the empty platter down.

“Says the grown man acting like an eight year old child,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes. “We're just having a bit of fun, just like you just did. Relax.”

You shrug and take a sip of your drink.

“Oh, I'm very relaxed,” you say.

You feel something wrap around your ankle and glance down to see that it's Raditz' tail. He smirks at you from across the table and gives you a cheeky wink.

Vegeta scowls and says something in a different language that makes Raditz pale and sit up. The tail disappears from your ankle quickly.

After a minute, though, the tail is back. This time, Raditz doesn't make any outward indication that he's doing anything. The tail, however, gently squeezes your ankle then starts to caress you. You suppress a shiver as his silken tail sneaks past the cuff of your sweatpants and wraps around your bare skin.

He looks up from his plate to make direct eye contact with you. Though his expression remains blank, you get the feeling that he wants your undivided attention. He moves his tail in a different way; it wraps around your ankle firmly and strokes your leg up and down. As he speeds up, you feel your face flush.

He's miming jerking off with your leg.

Feeling shy, you break eye contact and look back down at your plate.

The tail slows down and grips your leg a bit tighter. You can't pay attention to the conversation going on around you.

You look back up from your plate to Raditz. He hasn't stopped looking at you, and now, you plainly see the smolder of desire in his gaze.

Well, everyone's distracted. This is your chance, you suppose.

“Is that how you like your food?” You ask.

He smirks. “It'll do if there's nothing else around. But of course, I prefer a full meal over a snack.”

“Most people would,” you say.

“And you've already given me one meal,” he replies. “I wonder—”

Raditz quickly glances to his left and his expression changes immediately. Whatever conversation was happening further down the table has hit a lull.

You haven't really had a man you just met act this way with you before; you don't get out much, but also, you've been told that you're intimidating. It's funny to you that it has taken a man who survived inhaling volcanic fumes to be brave enough to approach you.

Considering his position with the others, you find it flattering that he's being so bold.

You didn't realize that making sure he got the food he wanted would give him a green light with you. Then again, Bulma says that Saiyans take their food very seriously.

You wonder if you initiated some sort of unspoken cultural thing with Raditz.

Well, if he appreciates your actions, then you've got a really good idea. You make up your mind that you're going to give him a treat, later.

Dinner continues on with no further pestering of Raditz, and sadly, no further flirting beyond his tail wrapped around your ankle, gently caressing you every now and then.  He's allowed to pick whatever foods he wants, though he makes sure that one of the other Saiyans isn't reaching for it before he grabs some. They eat at an alarming speed, and you're almost grateful that they appear to swallow more than they chew.

Hearing that much chewing at such a rapid rate from three separate people in your very close proximity is a nightmare. Thankfully, it's tolerable now.

Vegeta and Nappa disappear rather quickly after eating, but Raditz hangs behind for a moment.

He stands from the table and turns to Mrs. Briefs, who has already started the process of cleaning up.

“Do you need help with the dishes?” he asks.

She giggles and shoos him toward the door.

“You're such a sweetheart,” she coos. “But I've got it handled. You've gotta' get back to training. I'm sure those fellas don't like being kept waiting.”

Raditz grimaces and sighs. “True. Although, I don't think they'd wait, either.”

He grabs the stack of dishes where he sat, and brings them over to the countertop above the dishwasher, despite Mrs. Briefs' protests.

“If I don't at least clean up after myself,” he says, “Mama's gonna haunt me.”

She giggles. “Well, your Mama taught you well. Goodness, you're so polite and handsome and strong. You're the whole package, dear."

You're tipsy enough to chime in.

“You are!” You agree. “And those two—”

You point to the empty doorway through which Nappa and Vegeta disappeared minutes before.

“Those two need to stop being absolute bellends. You go train ok? And go kick their asses.”

He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “That'll never happen, but I appreciate the vote of confidence, sweetheart.”

You're beaming from the alcohol, and him calling you 'sweetheart'.

He finally leaves to train, and the kitchen is silent for a minute.

Bulma shakes her head and looks over at you. “Girl, you really went at Nappa. I'm beginning to think I'm rubbing off on you.”

You shrug as Mrs. Briefs rolls her eyes.

 “I hate to say it," she sighs, "but men of our age group like to tease each other a lot. And it can get so nasty. You kids aren't like that, and I think that's why the older fellas seem to think you're weak.”

You consider this for a moment and you're not sure.

It would mean that the food stealing was actually meant to be teasing or a joke. To you, it's pure bullying. And, a grown man should know better.

Wait—

“Did you say men of your age group?” you ask.

Mrs. Briefs nods. “Yes. Nappa is in his fifties.”

“Damn,” you say. “Saiyan don't raisin, I guess.”

Nappa's actions make sense to you, now. His teasing might be his attempts to push Raditz to "work harder" or some such nonsense.

You're well aware of that kind of treatment. You have been on the receiving end of being scolded for failing to excel. It's a surefire way to end up with terrible self esteem.
No matter the intention behind it, harsh words still hurt. 

Your idea of giving Raditz a little something special sounds even better, now. When he gets back in from training, you'll have to go find him.

In the meantime, drunk Bulma is great entertainment. Hours pass as you talk about anything and everything. If she weren't so buzzed, you think she might have noticed what was going on with Raditz. She is very sharp with reading people, so you chalk it up to her drinking.

Eventually, Bulma calls it a night, and you sit on the couch in the living room just off of the kitchen.

You sigh and look down at your glass of water.

Based on what happened, it's obvious there's something going on. But, you've been burned enough times that you assume by default that people don't mean what they say or imply.

You figure you can play it safe, for now. You just met the guy today. A little gift of food just for him can mean a lot of things, so you've got an out if things turn out to be different than what you'd like.

Even then, you're not sure what you want. You're inexperienced with this sort of thing.

Doors open and close down the hallway. Lights flick on, and more doors close. You hear a shower running. The Saiyans have finally come back in from training, and it is well after dark. You imagine that they will be up with the sun, too.

You wait for a few minutes and sip down the rest of your water in the meantime. Hopefully, you can get Raditz by himself, so he doesn't have to share.

With your water empty, you walk over to the kitchen, put the glass in the dishwasher, and grab a clean spoon from the utensil drawer. You then make your way to the guest bedroom you're staying in.

Opening the door, you turn the bedside light on, and sigh at the sight that greets you. There's an embarrassing amount of bags lined up against the wall. You know that this is part of traveling with a health condition, but it feels ridiculous. You need your special pillow. You need two heating pads. You need a bag just for meds. You need several types of clothing, because your body can't decide what temperature it wants to be.

And, of course, there's the safe foods. You always make sure that you have a stash of things you know you can eat without any trouble. While it's inconvenient to get more, you're happy to part with some of it.

Reaching into one of the many bags you packed, you remove an unopened jar of cookie butter and head out of your room with it and the spoon you pilfered from the kitchen in your hands.

The Saiyans are down the hall a little way from the room you're staying in, so it isn't too hard to find them.

You peer down the dim hallway, noting that three bedrooms and a bathroom all have the lights on, and the doors are all closed. Sighing, you wish you asked Bulma which room Raditz is staying in. God help you if you show up at Nappa's door with a treat, of all things.

You're just about to turn around to try to see if Bulma is still up to ask her, when the bathroom door to your right opens.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

Raditz stands in the doorway, wearing what looks like just a pair of briefs. The light through the partially open bathroom door accentuates the shape of his hair, more than anything. Still, there's enough light that you can see his muscular chest, strong arms, and chiseled stomach.

And oh, those thighs. They are massive and damn-near flawless.

He looks just as startled as you feel you do. Quickly, though, his expression becomes neutral.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply. “Training go well?”

Raditz winces. “Not really.”

“Aw,” you say. “I”m sorry. I brought you something. Maybe it'll cheer you up a little. But it's a secret.”

“This way,” he says, nodding to a door across the hall.

You hope that the hall is dimly lit enough that he can't see your blushing.

He turns and leads you toward his bedroom, his hair swaying behind him with the movement.

As if him being in underwear isn't enough, you can't help but notice how little they cover in the back. This man's massive ass looks like it should have its own gravitational pull—

And you're trying desperately not to fall into orbit. Your hands practically itch to grab a handful. You have no idea why this man is wearing such cheeky bottoms, but you're definitely not going to complain.

His hair falls back into place like a curtain. The peep show is unfortunately over. 

Raditz flips a small light on, and you do your best to try to refrain from openly ogling him. Instead, you put your hands out to offer the jar and spoon to him.

“So, I'm not sure how you feel about sweets,” you say, “but this is cookie butter. Have you had peanut butter?”

He nods.

“So this is like that,” you explain. “But, instead of peanuts, they use cookies. It is heinously delicious, and I think you deserve something nice.”

Raditz looks down at the jar, then to you, in complete shock. After a moment, though, a cocky grin spreads across his face.

“A special treat,” he muses. “If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you prefer me, in some way.”

You cross your arms and return his smirk.

“Well, maybe I do.”

Raditz chuckles and begins to open the jar. “You have good taste.”

“I know,” you say. “My preferences and tastes are impeccable.”

He quirks a brow. “What you're implying about me right there—”

“Oh, I'm not implying,” you laugh. “I'm outright saying it.”

Shock flits across his features and disappears. You get the impression that he's not used to compliments.

He opens the jar and removes the seal. You watch eagerly as he grabs a spoonful of cookie butter, gives it a sniff, then puts the spoon in his mouth.

Raditz stares at you with wide eyes. His tail snakes through the air behind him. And, from his mouth comes a moan that sounds like “oh my god”.

You're beaming and have to restrain yourself from doing a happy dance.

“You like it?” you ask.

“Mhm”, comes out in another moan.

Raditz slowly pulls the spoon from his mouth. He looks down at you with hooded eyes and a satisfied smile. His tail draws a lazy arc through the air.

Well, that's definitely a hit. He loves it.

“I'm going to hide it in here,” he murmurs. “There's no way I'm letting them have any of this. They don't even deserve to know that it exists.”

You giggle. “Our secret.”

Raditz finds a place to stash it, then turns to you. He smirks and gives you a once-over.

“Let me know if I can return the favor,” he says. “I've got a few ideas.”

You're certain that you're blushing from head to toe, but you do your best to play it cool.

“Hmm, I'll have to keep that in mind,” you purr. “Hope you have a good night. Don't enjoy yourself too much without me.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he says. “If I do enjoy myself with a snack, you'll be in my thoughts.”

You turn and make your way to the door. As you step out into the hallway, the door closes behind you, leaving you in the dark once again.

You make your way down to your room in a flurry, close the door, and lean against it. 

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Holy shit!

Sometimes, your mouth makes decisions before your brain can veto them. This time, you're grateful that you had no chance to overthink what to say. 

You get ready for bed and think over what happened today. You're a guest at Bulma Briefs' house. You've met aliens. They're handsome. One of them is ridiculously hot.  

And the ridiculously hot one definitely wants a piece of you. 

You think back to how Raditz looks in those tiny shorts and smile to yourself. He's spectacular. You wish you checked out his package, but you were so flustered that it didn't cross your mind.

Tomorrow, though, you're definitely going to gawk.

As you curl up in bed, you enjoy the thought of him enjoying himself with you in his thoughts. The way he stroked your ankle with his tail gives you so many mental images.

Your eyes shoot open.

Wait, does he use his tail instead of his hands?

Or does he use both?

Despite these pressing questions, your eyelids grow heavy. 

Somehow, you drift off to sleep.

Raditz finally has time to check all the replies on Reddit, although, they're irrelevant, at this point.

The replies are mixed. Most believe there is attraction on your side, but they advise caution. They say that you sound shy, and being too forward could scare you off. Others say Raditz should shoot his shot and see what happens.

Every one of the humans are in agreement, however, that he should play it casual and see if you'll go out for a coffee with him, or get a drink.

That would be great, if he had the time and actually had money.

So, he's weak and a loser. 

Raditz sighs. He might as well be clever and hot, right? He can manage that. 

He then adds an update:

You served him food and somehow managed to stop “the bosses” from stealing food off of his plate. You came by his room and gave him a jar of cookie butter. You essentially called him perfect, in a roundabout way.

He knows they're going to want details on that last thing, because people often attempt to read between the lines on things that are straightforward. So, he decides to just type out what you said, verbatim.

Raditz remembers every single word of that conversation. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, your compliment is like a balm to his bruised ego.

He's been treated like a thing to use his whole life, then was discarded callously. These humans, though—

They appear to have picked him up out of the trash. What use they'll find for him, he's not sure.

Wincing, he also puts in the update that he might have touched you under the table and talked dirty with you, and you reciprocated. He doesn't share the specifics of how direct he got. Raditz isn't a complete idiot; he knows that he essentially groped and harassed you, by Earth standards.

But you're interested, so it's fine. 

He absolutely wants to fuck you, but he doesn't want to just do that once and be done with it. Raditz isn't sure how to feel about that odd desire, actually. But he can think about that later.

He reads through more of the comments. Of course, there's the odd person here and there asking if he's hideous or something, because he seems so unsure of himself. They share that even a slightly below average person is likely to get interest, and you miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

Raditz can't help but add more info to that, as well. Within minutes, he's posting selfies wearing just his under-armor shorts, included in his update.

With that out of the way, he supposes he can look around a bit on some of the other apps he has, and try to make more sense of this planet.

From his initial assessment, Raditz finds Earth to be as vain and vapid as any of the rest of the highly-populated planets he's visited or slaughtered. And while he'll outwardly say to certain audiences that he has contempt for this place, the truth of the matter is this:

Raditz thrives in this environment.

He knows that his Saiyan physique is uncommon and considered to be the peak male ideal, by many standards. His face has a similar appeal. 

The hair draws a mixed opinion. If people don't like it? Fuck 'em. His hair is a matter of Saiyan pride, and one of the last connections he has to his functionally extinct people.

Raditz still can't believe that Vegeta hasn't attempted to restore his tail. Perhaps, it's a form of self-punishment for failing to destroy Earth the first time he was here. It's like Vegeta to be so extreme with himself.

Shaking his head, he goes back to Reddit to take a look. His posts have generated some attention, but one sticks out to him in particular.

Someone accuses him of faking the photos. Scowling, Raditz finds a piece of paper and a pen, and writes the offending person's username down on it. He quickly ditches the shorts, holds the paper in front of his crotch, and takes another selfie. He uploads it and huffs.

There. That'll show the fucker. He's a walking fetish on this planet, and he knows it.

It's unreal that a weak-ass human is questioning him like that. Even if it's online, these people should be able to spot their betters. Raditz isn't just anybody. He's—

He's nobody. He brings no value to anything of importance. Raditz should have stayed dead. His continued existence is a fucking accident.

But, Bulma's friend seems to think he's special.

Sighing, he puts his head in his hands. Maybe she does. Maybe, she's just a bleeding heart like all these other earthlings. What if he's made you feel uncomfortable and you just played along to try to stay safe? Fear and shyness can look similar, sometimes.

Raditz really doesn't know what he wants with you. He doesn't know what you want from him, either. He was asking you, in a roundabout way, to spend the night with him. You didn't take him up on that. What if you're just a tease?

He feels twisted up and confused to a degree that he hasn't felt before.

Raditz absolutely wants to fuck you; he has no doubt about that. But he doesn't want that to come at the expense of—

Hurting you? Getting hurt? 

That's strange, in and of itself. Raditz typically doesn't give a shit about what happens after he gets the fuck out of his system.

A pang of anxiety hits him as he realizes that this has nothing to do with you being Bulma's friend. There's something else, there.

It's your illness. There's no other explanation. Being on this planet has made him a bit soft. That must be it. 

After all, Raditz is still far stronger than the average human. And you are weaker than the average human. This makes the situation all the more potentially dangerous.

Yes, he's cautious about you because of the illness. It can't possibly be anything else.

Chapter Text

It's ass-o'clock in the morning. Raditz doesn't want to be up. He rolls over in bed and looks at his phone to check the time.

There are dozens of notifications. Raditz gives a quick glance at how long he has, and figures he can take a look, for just a little bit.

There's a lot of comments about his selfies. 

He knows that Saiyans have a godlike physique compared to humans, but the nature of the comments have him glowing.

There's a whole lot of people calling him “Daddy” and he's not sure how to feel about that one. He's not old, and he doesn't look old. It's an odd colloquialism. 

He cackles as he reads a reply to the barely-censored selfie he posted yesterday as proof of authenticity:

“I don't think it's real. There's something behind that paper which warrants investigation... for science >.>”

Saiyans don't care about nudity, and he had no privacy growing up as a mercenary. Still, Raditz knows the high value of nudes, and knows better than to post one. 

He has a plan, in case the Briefs quit paying for everything:

Use social media, get a following, and make an OnlyFans. And he might as well become a stripper— again. 

It's really nice to not have to worry about money, for once. Hopefully, he won't have to again. Raditz has to become useful in some capacity, otherwise, the money might go away. He'll have to figure that out as soon as possible.

He keeps looking through the comments and pauses. Someone asks what he wants to do with you, because making a move isn't going to make any sense unless Raditz figures out what his boundaries are. This person has gotten dozens of upvotes.

The question has him thinking again, and he quickly puts a stop to it. He won't even entertain it with a reply. 

Raditz hasn't been this confused in a very long time. It's comparable to how coming back from the dead feels. 

It shouldn't feel like that. This is not complicated. 

Sighing, he slides out of bed and gets ready to get his ass kicked all day again. 

Raditz just needs to get laid. That's all there is to it. 

You startle yourself awake. Anxiety and excitement in equal measure burn in your chest. You're not sure why. You can't remember having any dreams, and can't think of anything that triggered this, except—

Okay, yeah. While you slept, your mind must have sorted out what happened with Raditz last night.

Still, you're an overthinker, and you know that you'll have repetitive thoughts all day.

You suck in a breath and sigh, grateful that Bulma has made sure that your room, sheets included, has no fragrance in it. Rolling over, you grab your morning pills, and swallow them with a swig of water from a bottle on your nightstand. You move around slowly in bed for a few minutes, stretching and rolling over to try to loosen up your sore muscles.

Your thoughts drift back to last night. As much as Bulma knows about relationships, you're not sure if you should ask for her advice about this. She can be a bit of a loudmouth. You want as much control over this situation as possible, and if this gets out before you can do anything about it, that control will be gone. 

You're not sure how much control you have over the situation, to begin with. Seeing him for the first time felt like a punch to the gut and sent a wave of shock down your spine.

You also don't want to entertain the meaning behind whatever your subconscious meant when it thought, "that's him" upon first seeing Raditz. 

This guy is a known killer. That should be a non-starter. 

Sighing, you finally roll out of bed, put on some more decent clothes, and head toward the kitchen.

You're up much later than you expected. The kitchen is spotless, and breakfast has been cleaned up for so long that there's not even the scent of food in the air. 

A faint breeze blows in through the patio to your right, and you're glad that you have sweats and long sleeves on, again. Still, there's something exciting about the fresh spring air that has you sighing in contentment.

You're surprised to see Bulma outside on the patio and you wonder if she has a hangover. 

As you walk into the kitchen, you notice a pot of coffee with an empty, clean mug next to it. You take the cup and make your coffee just how you like it, then make your way out to the patio with the mug in hand.

"Morning," Bulma mumbles. 

"Morning," you reply. "Hangover?"

She shakes her head. "Just not a morning person."

"Same."

"Sleep well?" Bulma asks. 

You take a sip of your coffee —too hot— and wince. 

"Mhm," you say. "That's a very comfy bed. And I really appreciate the fragrance-free sheets."

Bulma nods, takes a sip of her coffee, and hums in satisfaction.

"No problem," she says. "The guys are so sensitive to fragrance that we just switched everything for guest rooms."

You look down at your coffee in thought and shrug.

"Makes sense, for were-apes," you say. 

"Hm, I haven't thought of it like that. But yeah, I guess they are like werewolves, but apes. Sense of smell is probably comparable." 

You're not sure how to feel about that. You wonder what exactly these guys can smell, but they may not be forthright in giving up any perceivable advantages they have over you. 

"I presume they're already training," you say.

"Oh yeah," she chuckles. "They're up before dawn. By the way, What do you make of them?"

"I'm not really sure," you admit. "They seem to be trying to figure shit out. I get the impression that our world's gotta feel like living in a fishbowl, compared to how they lived before." 

Bulma nods. "Oh yeah. Before I brought the other guys back, Vegeta was like a tiger in a cage. Now, he's more like a tiger in an enclosure."

"Having people to order around probably feels like control," you say. "But if there's anything I've learned from being sick, it's that control is an illusion."

Bulma sighs. "That it is, my friend."

Your coffee is finally cool enough. You take a big gulp of it in the hopes that you can wake up more.

Bulma downs the rest of her coffee and stares out over the patio. 

"Everything's blooming," she says. "Want to go see the gardens? It's big, but there are a lot of places to rest."

"Yes, I could use some time walking around," you admit. 

She nods. "I could, too. We can go after lunch. Ha! And we can fill our water bottles with wine."

You laugh and readily agree. This is quickly turning into a boozy vacation, but it is a vacation, after all. As long as you're careful, you won't have a problem.

You both sit in companionable silence as you finish your coffee. Even after that burst of conversation, you're both not really awake. 

A nice, hot shower ought to do the trick. Bulma agrees, and you part ways and agree to meet up in the kitchen afterward for lunch.

It's been a while since you've slept in late enough to almost have lunch for breakfast. While your fatigue levels are much better for it, your body is sore from the inactivity. 

The walk around the gardens will be really good for you. 

You go back to your bedroom, shut the door, and get ready for a shower. There's a nice ensuite bathroom to this guest room. Your things tend to take over the countertops in the bathroom, so you're grateful that you've got one all to yourself.

You turn the shower on and step in after the water warms up. There's a panel to the side of the shower with various water pressure and nozzle selections. You try a few, then settle on your favorite. Signing, you close your eyes as the heat loosens up your muscles. 

As you relax, your thoughts drift back to last night. 

Raditz is blatantly obvious with what he wants. He's hot as hell, and you feel like an opportunity like this won't come along again. 

He seems lonely. God knows you're lonely, too.

You're an adult. You know what you like (that man). You know what you want (also that man). And you think you know how to get it (proposition that man).

You go through your shower routine on autopilot and continue to think. It's not like you live here, and you'll be gone in a few days. Really, you can do whatever you want. 

As you get out of the shower and get dressed, you consider the idea.

You've never had sex. For a while, it was a matter of feeling uncomfortable in your own skin, and being afraid of being so intimate. Now, it's completely different. 

You trust yourself. You know when the time will be right— whatever that looks like. In a way, you are in a relationship with yourself.

The fact that you absolutely cannot get pregnant empowers you. You haven't felt this sexy in your entire life because something you don't want cannot possibly happen to you.

You make up your mind. You're going to see him again, and based on how you feel when you look at him, you are certain that you'll know the correct decision.

Walking back into the bedroom, you take a look at the weather on your phone. It's not supposed to get much warmer today, so you opt for baggy sweats again.

You'll dress nicer for the party at Kame house tomorrow.

Well, maybe not. Bulma says that Master Roshi is a nasty old man, so perhaps, something loose fitting is warranted. 

You get dressed and conclude that's something to figure out tomorrow, not today. 

By the time you take your midday meds and get out to the kitchen, Mrs. Briefs is cleaning up after the Saiyan lunch hurricane. 

You're a bit bummed that you missed Raditz again, but you're patient; you've got plans for today and that's your priority, at the moment. 

Mrs. Briefs looks up from the kitchen sink and notices you. Her ever-present smile grows bigger. 

"Hello, sweetheart!" She says. "How are you feeling today? Any fun plans for the day?"

You return her smile and pull up a seat at the breakfast bar. 

"Pretty good. We're going to go out to the gardens after lunch."

"Oh, I hope you enjoy," she says. "I'm so proud of my plant collection. Everything's got a label and there are some rare plants, too." 

You listen as she lists off some of her favorites. She gives you the scientific name for each one, then rattles off their various common names.

You never would have guessed Mrs. Briefs for a corpse flower person, but she's got two of those, and they are the pride of her collection. 

She also has a thing for growing what people use for houseplants in a simulated natural environment. You're really excited to see how big these plants are when they're not struggling to survive a house. 

Bulma steps into the kitchen and takes the seat next to you at the breakfast bar. She's got the same idea as you —sweatpants— but, of course, she makes it look cute as hell. 

Mrs. Briefs puts the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and chuckles. 

"I'm glad I was able to save some food for you girls," she says. "Those boys eat so much!"

She goes to the fridge and withdraws several containers and packages of ingredients to make sandwiches.

You get up and go through all the ingredients. There's everything here to make the most perfect sandwich. 

You happily eat your lunch and drink as much water as you can; Bulma has pulled out some rather large water bottles, and she's put bottles of wine next to them. 

Unsurprisingly, you turn out to be the responsible adult of the situation and insist on bottles of water the same size as the ones containing wine. With your health, you always have to be careful.

You and Bulma head out to the gardens with your drinks in tow. As the day goes on, the weather warms a little, but not enough to warrant shorter sleeves. 

You're in awe of the sheer size of the gardens. Mrs. Briefs has a bit of everything planted, and, at the center, is a gigantic building that is more like a rainforest habitat than a greenhouse. 

It takes most of the day to go through the gardens, then through the greenhouse where the fabled corpse flowers reside. You reach the other side of the building, just as you run out of wine. Bulma's has been empty for some time. 

The doors in front of you are glass coated in something that prevents you from seeing out of them. As Bulma stands in front of the door, she gives you a cheeky grin. You wonder what kind of amazing sights lie beyond the door, given that the greenhouse has absolutely blown your mind.

Bulma holds the door open and steps to the side.

The smell and sight of wisteria hits you all at once. In front of you, there's a massive canopy of light purple blossoms. 

You gasp as you step outside. The smell gets stronger as you cross the threshold, and you've never seen or smelled something so magical before.

Bulma laughs. "Yep, that's the reaction Mom wants from this part. She's got lights up in the flowers, too, so everything sparkles when it's dark out."

Of course, leave it to the Briefs to do something so grand. 

Bulma glances down at her phone. 

"Want to have dinner out here?" She asks. "It's about that time. I can get some bots to bring us food."

"Yeah, sounds good."

You have no good reason to say no; there's even a pergola in the middle of all of the wisteria. You see a mountain of cushions and a table underneath it. 

Well, things are what they are. And you're here to see Bulma, anyway. 

You and Bulma make your way over to the pergola and sit down. It feels good to rest your feet after walking around for so long today. After a few minutes, the bots bring dinner to you, and, of course, more wine. 

You decide that it's time for you to slow down on the drinking for tonight.

Bulma sighs and closes her eyes as she takes a sip of her wine.

"It's nice to have a quieter dinner," she says. "I prefer the guys when they're shirtless, quiet, and not inhaling food."

You laugh. 

"Those are some fine-looking men," you say.

"Vegeta would be much hotter if he weren't such an asshole," she grumbles. 

You take a sip of your drink and smirk. 

"But he does have that big dick energy," you say.

Bulma gives a sharp, single laugh. 

"Girl, I can confirm he does," she says. "I've seen him naked getting into the shower. That thing's huge."

You raise a brow and feel a blush creeping its way across your face.

"Have you seen Raditz?" you ask. 

"Unfortunately, no," she sighs. "I'm willing to guess though, that he's hung. Generally, tall guys are proportionate. Of course, that doesn't mean short guys are also proportionate, though. Case in point: Vegeta."

Bulma takes in your expression and giggles. 

"I forgot that you're so innocent," she says. 

You nod, but you don't think you'll be innocent for much longer. 

"Raditz is your type, isn't he?" She asks. 

You nod again and bite your lip. 

Bulma gives you a cheeky grin over the top of her drink. She takes a gulp and sets the drink down. 

"Let's see," she muses. "Long hair, lots of muscles, very tall— yeah, he's exactly what you like. 

You smile. "Them thighs."

"I swear," Bulma says, "his thighs have to be the size of Vegeta's waist, which is tiny, but, still."

You look down at your drink and frown.

"That bitch has a smaller waist than I do," you grumble.

Bulma scowls. "Probably the same, here. Unreal."

She starts complaining about Vegeta and all of his stupidly attractive features, which amount to his entire body, if you add it all together.

Bulma insists very loudly that he's a horrible jerk who has no right to be so hot. The way she goes on about him, though, sounds like she's trying to convince herself that she isn't interested in him.

You wonder if their arguing is actually flirting. You're going to have to watch more carefully. 

You continue chatting well into the evening— long enough to see the lights up in the wisteria turn on. Somehow, this place becomes more spectacular.

Bulma tells you a bit more about the people you're going to meet tomorrow afternoon. She doesn't miss an opportunity to complain about her ex, but you leave it be. That's just how she is about him, after all. 

There's a guy named Krillin who's going to be there. She tells you he's not the most handsome guy, and he's very short. But, she mentions that he's an absolute sweetheart and he's single.

You're not sure if she wants to try to set you guys up, but you're open to the idea if there's chemistry. 

First, though, you've got to see about some other chemistry you've been experiencing. 

After some more time, Bulma decides to call it a night. You stand, and she leads you to a path behind the pergola.

Up ahead, you see an archway, which the wisteria vigorously climbs. You make your way through the arch and sigh as the heady aroma of the wisteria encompasses you. 

The wisteria on the arch above transitions to ivy, then ends abruptly at a sidewalk. You step out onto the sidewalk with Bulma, and can't help but feel like you've exited a portal to return to the mundane. 

Still, the chilly breeze at your back carries the cloying smell of the wisteria. 

The sidewalk and the adjacent, meticulously-manicured lawn are bland in comparison to where you just spent several hours. Still, there's the marks of Mrs. Briefs' love of plants all the way back to the house. Every so often, you pass by small beds of mulch, some of which contain spring-blooming flowers. Others are bare, but you're certain that they'll be full soon enough, if they don't contain self-sowing plants from last year. If Bulma's mom gets enough time, you believe she will fill the lawn with flowers, too.

Even the solar lights lining the sidewalk are thoughtfully-placed; they illuminate the path, but each one has a cap on top to reduce light pollution. 

A small gust of wind chills you, and you find yourself crossing your arms and hunching over.

The house is just up ahead. To the right sits the spaceship containing the GR. Of course, the lights are on inside the ship, and you hear an eerie low hum coming from within. 

Given what you've heard about the Saiyans and their training habits, it's not too surprising that they're still training.

Bulma sighs as you enter the house and walk across the foyer to the elevators.

"I was going to take a nice, long bath," she says, "but I think I'm gonna just crash instead."

You step into the elevator and wait for it to take you to the residential floor. 

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet," you say.

As the elevator stops and the doors open, you chuckle. 

"I have, like, sixty-nine different options I'm thinking of."

Bulma gives you a silly, exhausted smile. "Heh. Nice."

You step out of the elevator into a small, tiled foyer. A large, plush, navy-colored rug muffles your footsteps as you make your way across the foyer toward the kitchen and living room. 

You both part ways at the kitchen, and you make your way down the hallway which contains the guest rooms. Stopping in front of your bedroom, you open the door. Organized chaos greets you as you flick the lights on. You close the door behind you and let out a sigh.

Digging through your bag of clothes, you pull out a pair of leggings and one of your nicer lounging shirts. You don't want to make yourself too obvious, but, at the same time, you want to look a little more put together. After changing your clothes, you take a look in the mirror and fix whatever details seem to be out of place. 

You're glad you stopped drinking at dinner and took the time to sober up. You don't want to make this decision while under the influence. 

Looking around the bedroom has you wincing. Since Raditz isn't done training yet, you decide that it's best for you to tidy up a little.

Tidying up amounts to you shoving a lot of nonessentials and your safe foods bag into the nearby closet and closing the door on the mountain of things. 

Just as you take stock of your less cluttered room, the dim lights flick on down the hallway. Finally, after what feels like forever, the Saiyans are done training for the day.

Your heart starts racing, but you can't tell if you're excited or nervous.

You go to your bathroom and quickly brush your teeth. Steeling yourself, you make your way to the bedroom door, open it, and step out into the dimly-lit hallway. 

Your stomach flips as you look to the left. At the far end of the hall is a single, yellow light. It's just enough that you can make out Raditz standing by himself midway down the hall. Before you can think, you're already making your way toward him. 

His tail is unwound from his waist, and it barely moves behind him. He's completely still, and you're sure he knows you're there. 

As you draw closer, Raditz turns to face you. There's a reflective flash in his eyes, the likes of which can be seen in several vertebrate species on Earth. 

It's markedly inhuman. It should frighten you, much like all the other mysterious, flashing eyes you've come across alone in the dark. Coyotes, bears, feral dogs, —hell, even deer can kick a human's shit in if they feel up to it— are all a potential danger where you live. 

You're not scared. If anything, you're even more curious. 

As you get closer, he looks you over several times. Whether it's a conscious action or not, he licks his lips at the sight of you.

You hear Nappa and Vegeta's muffled voices behind a closed door further down the hall. 

They're occupied. This is private. 

This is meant to be. 

Stopping in front of Raditz, you take a breath as he looks down at you expectantly.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Hey,” you say. "This is kind of out of nowhere but, I was thinking. Um, I'm a virgin, and I was wondering if you'd like to help me change that.”

He looks shocked for a brief second, before a cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Absolutely.”

You bite your lip as excitement courses through you. 

“Ok," you say, "I'll let you get your shower, then come down to my room.”

"Sure thing, beautiful," he says. 

You turn to head back to your room, but Raditz grabs your wrist. 

"What's—"

He cuts your question off with a kiss. A thrill runs down your spine as you melt into his touch. Your eyes slide shut and you return the kiss.

Though it's not much more than a regular kiss, you feel like you're underwater. Nothing exists in your world except for his lips sliding against yours, his hand gently holding your wrist, and your heart hammering so hard that you can hear every beat. 

You've never felt a kiss like this before, and if you weren't so entranced, the intensity of it might frighten you.

Raditz slowly breaks the kiss. You open your eyes slowly to see him staring down at you in barely-restrained desire. 

He blinks, lets go of your wrist, and steps back. 

"I— I'm gonna just go um—"

He motions to the bathroom door. 

"Shower?" you supply. 

"Yeah, that."

You giggle and take a step back. 

"Okay, see you in a little bit," you say. 

Raditz leans in like he's going to kiss you again, but quickly backs up and turns toward the bathroom. 

As the bathroom door closes behind him, you turn and make your way back to your room. You close the door, lean against it, and let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding. Shocked, you bring a hand to your lips.

What the hell is all of that?

You've never felt something so intense from a simple kiss. And, for all of his bravado yesterday, Raditz appears to be flustered, as well. 

Sighing, you walk over to your bed to sit down. It doesn't surprise you to feel that you're already wet. If you're this turned on from just your lips touching, you wonder how intense this is going to get.  

God, you hope he knows what he's doing. You're extremely turned on and desperately need to be sated. 

This is either one of the best ideas you've ever had, or the worst.

Either way, you're going to find out in a few minutes.

The PTO network is still offline. He's never seen anything like this happen before. Network access errors are rare, and when they occur, they're very brief.

It's like someone has taken the whole network down. Not only that, but it's giving him an impossible date many, many cycles into the future. His scouter is running in safety boot, because the offline errors and wrong date have given him so many alerts that he can't concentrate. That's too dangerous, given that they don't know where they are. 

Thank Gods he has a model with a solar charging option. It doesn't need to dock to recharge, and this planet has a lot of sunlight. 

He scans for readings once again and sighs:

A few power levels in the millions. Several in the hundred thousands. One that is in the tens of thousands, but still higher than his own. They remain fairly static, so he assumes they are at their homes or quarters. 

They power up frequently throughout the day on most days, and his guess is that they're all training. The weakest one's level gets battered down to around one thousand several times a day.

He feels sorry for the unfortunate sonofabitch. Whoever they are, they're getting the snot kicked out of them by some serious heavy-hitters. That's not going to make for good training for him, if the stronger ones actually are training him rather than torturing him.

The options of who to try to make first contact with are frightening, and he's afraid to bring his wife with him. People with that much power are, without exception, cruel. 

But, it's only a matter of time before someone finds them. He thinks that perhaps, they ought to show up where the Lord of this planet resides, and seek refuge. 

It can't be Frieza; this planet is flourishing too much to be one of Frieza's. 

"We'll make our move in the morning," he murmurs. "Hanging around in the wild any longer is going to just make us look more like fugitives. We will go up quietly and observe. I think One might be our guy. Since Number Two and Hundred-so beat up on that weaker guy so much, it's not unreasonable to assume that they might be hostile on sight."

She nods and listens carefully. Still, he's worried about what harm might come to his wife, with such powerful beings on this planet. She follows her heart, and her heart leads her into danger.

"I've been thinking," she says. 

Oh, no.

"Yes?" 

She bites her lip and stares at their campfire. 

"Maybe we can make an appeal to the Lord of this planet," she says. "You'd think that the ruler of such a beautiful place would be kind, right?"

He shrugs. "Maybe. But the risk of trusting him is really high."

"It's worth trying," she says. "A power level that high can oppose Frieza and his family."

He dares to feel hope for a few seconds, before squashing the feeling. 

"Let's see if they will even talk friendly with us," he says. "But yeah, it's worth a try."

Her face lights up and his heart melts. He's an absolute sucker for this woman and he doesn't want it any other way.

His scouter beeps, and he checks the alert to see a very familiar power fluctuation. He chuckles to himself.

"What's up?" his wife asks. 

"Mr. Thirty-Thousand is getting lucky," he says. "Good for him, to be honest. Number Two and Hundred-So beat him up all the time."

She scoffs and crosses her arms. "What if that's a woman?"

He laughs, glancing at the reading once again. 

Whoa. Big spike, there. It's erratic. 

"A woman wouldn't be this uncontrolled," he says. "Guy's practically going feral. Okay, correction: warrior men are more likely to be out of control and stupid in bed."

She laughs, leaning over to peep at the scouter lens. 

"Oh wow, yeah," she says. "But those dips. Hm."

"He's somehow keeping it in check," he says. "I can't help but wonder if the dominant species on this planet is a bit like ours."

She sighs. "Oh, I hope so. They might understand us."

"Or, they might look at us as something to play around with and dispose of."

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, and leans over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"So negative, bfka," she says. 

With her perpetual optimism, she finds new ways to make him blush, every day.

Sighing, he turns his gaze to the east and does a check. Sure enough, the strongest power on the planet is in the same spot, along with the third and fourth strongest. 

He frowns as they repeat the same thing they've done for nearly every night. 

"What is it?" she asks. 

"One is staying put," he says. "Three is leaving. Four also stays put. Three might be an adviser or military type."

They're all three terrifyingly powerful, but One has him very anxious.

"It might not be a bad idea to show up while the Lord is gone," he says. "If we treat the help well, then that's a sign that we don't mean any harm."

She smiles. "I agree. And maybe I can see how I can help."

He returns her smile and wraps his arm around her. This planet has sustained them for a while. They've kept out of the way of the natives, and don't even know what they look like. They try their best to make sure they kill only what they will eat, and always leave some of the foraged plants they find untouched, so they can grow again. 

This is a really nice planet. The weather is wonderful, the food is bountiful, and the gravity is light, but decent. 

He doesn't know where they are, or how they got to this paradise. 

They're together and that's what matters. 

Chapter Text

You're a practical person.

You listen to your friends when they tell you about their experiences. Friends from both online and in person have shared about their first times, some of whom have given you warnings about how to be wary of potentially dangerous people. Still, others have shared practical tips: 

Make sure you're good and wet before you start. Make sure you go pee afterward. You can stop things at any point if you feel uncomfortable or unprepared. Communicate, communicate, communicate. 

Also: put down a fucking towel unless you want to sleep in a damp spot.

Sighing, you stand, make your way to the bathroom, and grab a towel. You put it on top of the bed near the corner, then sit back down.

Bulma has told you that there are some really nice blankets out there designed for such an occasion. The unsexiness of a towel has you wishing you said something to her earlier today. 

And, if this man is dickzilla like she assumes, you really, really hope you don't ending up needing lube. 

You don't have that with you. This is the one time that you've left stuff like that at home, on the assumption that nothing would happen. 

You shift in your seat and purse your lips. You're uncomfortably wet, and you hope it isn't soaking down to your leggings. Surely, lube won't be an issue and, if anything, the towel advice is apt.

Eventually, there's a soft knock at the door. Letting out an anxious breath, you walk across the room to open it. Raditz stands there in a T-shirt and sweats—

A pair of those god-blessed gray sweatpants, no less. You can't help but notice that there's a bit of a tent in them.

He steps into your room, and you close the door behind him, locking it for extra measure, just in case someone gets nosy.

Raditz makes like he's going to pull you in for a kiss, but stops himself. 

"You've really never had sex?" he asks. 

"Correct."

He nods. “Ok, well, I haven't done anything since my last medical, and that medical was clear. So I'm clean.”

"So, I'm your first human?" you ask. 

"You are," he says. "Um. My brother has a son from a human, so our species are compatible to some degree. I don't think pulling out is a good enough solution."

You're grateful that he's thinking safely enough, but still, you shrug. 

"Well, I can't get pregnant," you say. "I had a few parts removed during surgery. I can ovulate, but that egg has nowhere to go.”

He slowly nods and gives you a concerned look. 

"Medical shit?" he asks. 

"Yeah," you say. "Though, I didn't plan on using it, anyway. So it works out."

He seems to consider this for a moment before shrugging. 

“Well," he says, "If anything hurts at any point, you need to tell me right away. I'm three hundred pounds of Saiyan meat.”

That doesn't deter you. Like a drunk person insisting on riding a mechanical bull at a bar, you're determined to go through with this, even if you're walking funny for a while.

"Sounds delicious," you murmur.

He's asked all the appropriate questions, and you've got one of your own. 

"Is there anything I need to be aware of?" You ask. "Or anything I need to not do?"

A soft smile flits across his face. As soon as it appears, though, it's gone. 

"Don't touch my tail," he says. "That's all."

You nod. "Ok. I will not touch your tail."

It's a completely reasonable request, and you have no reason to pry.

Raditz steps closer to you and gently grabs your wrist. 

"Let's pick up where we left off," he says, before leaning over to press his lips to yours. 

Your eyes slide shut, and you deepen the kiss.

Last time isn't a fluke; the same euphoric sensations from your first kiss in the hall are back with a vengeance. 

Raditz' hand wanders from your wrist up to your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

You open your mouth and your tongues meet, as you simultaneously decide to deepen the kiss further. Stretching, you reach as high as you can to try to wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

Raditz is all over you all at once. He crushes your mouths together and his hands roam your back. He can't seem to figure out where he wants to put them. 

A soft moan escapes your throat, and he decides then to put his hands on your hips. You lean into his embrace, pressing yourself against him. 

His erection is heavy against your stomach. A wanton urge possesses you, and you writhe against him.

Raditz breaks the kiss to moan and grind back against you. Through your flimsy shirt, you feel his cock twitch and harden more. Eager, you grind back against him, just as he leans over for a hungry kiss. 

You can't close your eyes— not while he stares at you with such naked, shameless lust. There's something predatory in his gaze that entrances you. 

Raditz pulls back from your mouth, then leans over and trails a searing path of kisses down your neck. Gasping, you bare your neck to him and offer yourself as a willing human sacrifice. 

The rumble that comes from the back of his throat makes you want to beg him to devour you whole.

Raditz snaps out of his trance and steps back to sit on the edge of the bed. He gently guides you to sit next to him. Leaning over, he gives you another breath-stealing kiss, then pulls back with a smirk.

“I'm gonna ruin you so much that you won't want anyone else's hands on you,” he says, “even your own.”

You lean over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

"I invite you to do so," you chuckle. 

You thread your fingers through his hair and find yourself thoroughly distracted.

It's softer and more fine than you imagined. The density of it, however, is unlike anything you've ever seen on someone with straight hair. You run your hands through it in awe as you comb through it, finding no tangles. There isn't a split end in sight, either; the ends look like fresh, untrimmed hair rather than damage.

The straight, fine strands of his hair flow freely through your fingers. Braiding it sounds like a nightmare, but you can see how it would rarely tangle.

Yeah. This would be like trying to braid water.

He looks at you and smirks. “You like it?”

You slowly release the handful of hair you grabbed and watch as it pours itself back into place.

“I love it,” you say. “It's so soft.”

Mesmerized, you repeat the motion.

“Perfect,” you murmur.

His eyes light up for a second and he quickly leans in to kiss you. There's an odd sense of urgency in his touch; hands roam all over your back and hips, and his kisses go from intense to brutal. 

The passionate moment then slows from a searing, all-encompassing heat to a soft, spreading warmth. 

His touch becomes gentle as your hands explore the planes of his shoulders, chest, and back. You map out every swell and dip you can, reveling in the solid wall of muscle beneath your hands. His body heat warms your normally cold hands, and you wonder if, perhaps, Saiyans have a higher body temperature than humans. 

You continue to kiss and touch, taking a more passive role with your mouth as you focus on the stunning body beneath your hands. 

He's been kissing you for what feels like forever, and he's still touching you over your clothes.

As if he can read what you're thinking, Raditz toys with the hem of your shirt, then breaks the kiss.

“Can I take this off of you?” he asks.

You nod. “Yes.”

Raditz leans in to kiss you again. His hands smooth their way under the hem of your shirt. His thumbs remain on the outside, and as he caresses his way up your sides, the shirt slides up with his touch.

By the time he reaches your chest, you grasp the hem, and raise your arms above your head to take your shirt off the rest of the way. He seems to sense that you're going to do this, and breaks your kiss to back away and give you room to move.

His gaze travels down your neck to your chest. You're wearing the cutest bra that you have with you. It's not your best one, nor your favorite, but you feel confident in it nonetheless.

Raditz chuckles. “Well, that's packaged all nicely.”

You don't know if he has any clue how to unhook a bra. Smirking, you reach behind you and unclasp it yourself. You toss the bra onto the floor.

"Best damn unboxing I've ever seen," he says, staring down at your chest. 

You laugh and arch your back toward him. 

"And, how would you rate this product?" You ask. 

Raditz reaches over to palm your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

"High quality," he says. "Size is as expected."

He nips and sucks his way down your neck toward your breasts. The flat of his tongue drags across your nipple, and the air from his following exhale sends a chill down your spine. 

"Tastes perfect," he murmurs. "Five stars."

Raditz continues to lavish attention on your chest and you lean into his touch. Eventually, his mouth wanders back to your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

You tug on the hem of his shirt, and Raditz sits back for a moment to peel it off and toss it on the floor. Without waiting, he leans forward to kiss you once again. 

As much as you love how it feels to kiss him, you want to have a look at the stunning body you tried not to ogle yesterday. Putting your hands to his chest, you push him back. 

Raditz looks hurt and worried. Does he think you're putting a stop to this? 

"Hold on a sec," you say. "You got to have a good look, and it's my turn."

He bites his lip and nods. 

Your gaze wanders from his nervous, flushed face to his body. 

You've never seen a man like this in person. Every part of him is huge and strong— from his neck down to his stomach. 

You're not sure what your favorite part is. His arms are thick and bulging with muscle. Whatever his arm band is for, it accentuates the area between his bicep and upper arm, and you have the urge to bite his bicep—

And his meaty pecs, too. They're practically asking for it. 

Your gaze wanders down the ridges of his abdomen, to a small line of dark, trimmed hair that starts at his navel.

After everything you've heard about the Saiyans, it surprises you to see that he's trimmed his body hair. 

There's also a scar just above his navel that looks like an old piercing. Whatever questions you have about that, however, go to the wayside as you glance down.

The bulge in his pants is a massive temptation. His gray sweatpants leave little to the imagination; you can make out the outline of the head of his cock, and part of the shaft. 

It's remarkably large and human-like, as far as you can tell.

You tear your gaze away to look him over again. To you, he's so stunning that you're practically paralyzed with desire. You don't know where to touch, first. 

"My God," you murmur. "You're fucking perfect."

Raditz practically mauls you. You find yourself on your back, with his hands and mouth all over you at once. He settles on trailing ravenous, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, to your breasts, then further down to your navel.

Raditz yanks your leggings and panties down and off in a clumsy frenzy; they're dangling from your left leg as he moves downward. 

Panting, he rests his forehead against your abdomen and draws in a shuddering breath. He stills there and you thread your hands through his hair, gently scratching against his scalp. 

You're not exactly sure how, but something you did or said set him off. 

Raditz seems to have ravenous outbursts where his touch intensifies to a near-rough degree, then he abruptly stops himself and pulls back. 

You don't know enough about Saiyans to know what sort of sexual instincts they have. But, from how sensitive their sense of smell is, you wager the scent of your arousal— apparent to even your own nose— poses a challenge to him being gentle. 

Raditz sits up, sighs, and runs his hand through his hair. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I should have asked before I did that."

You look up at him and smile.

"It's ok," you say. "That was the next step, after all."

He's been so sweet to you, so far. 

Raditz smirks and leans over to pull your leggings off the rest of the way. 

You sit up and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Leaning in, you draw him in for another kiss. 

His hands gently wander over your back, then in toward your breasts. The pace he sets is slow once again, and he takes his time teasing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. 

You caress the planes of his shoulders and chest, reveling in the shudder you elicit when your thumb brushes one of his small, brown nipples. His kisses turn ravenous once again as you flick the opposite nipple. 

You file that information away for another time. He seems to barely have control over himself, right now. 

Softly, you trail your hands down the contours of his abs, and over the short, coarse hair below his navel. Your wandering hands brush against the sizeable bulge in his sweatpants. 

As you gently caress his length, he breaks the kiss with a groan. You continue your light, soft touch. 

Raditz rests his chin on top of your head. You angle your head downward so you can see what you're doing, your forehead against his chest. He's panting and trembling from your touch; the thrill of him being at your mercy is intoxicating.

As you ghost the tips of your fingers against him, his penis twitches, bumping into your hand. 

Raditz groans again. It's a stronger, more firm contact than you've been giving him so far. 

Arousal strikes your core at the sight of a small, damp spot on his pants at the peak of his bulge. 

"You're fucking killing me," Raditz rasps. 

You chuckle and move your hand to the waistband of his pants. 

"Well, we wouldn't want that," you say. "Off."

You give his pants a tug, and he quickly removes them. 

You gape at his huge, uncut cock. 

"I promise it'll fit," Raditz says. "Just— please—"

He leaves the rest of his plea unspoken, but you're sure he wants you to touch him in earnest. 

Reaching forward, you wrap a hand around him and gently tug upward. As you stroke downward, a bead of arousal forms at the tip. You let go and watch as he hisses and twitches. 

The precum beading around his slit becomes a trickle. 

You shift and press your thighs together, then quickly grab the towel to sit on it as you feel how wet you are. 

Raditz laughs. "Good, at least I have company in my suffering."

You shoot him a half-hearted glare.

"Well, this is all your fault," you grumble. 

"My fault?" he laughs. "You're the one who started this!" 

You giggle and lean in to kiss him. Pulling away, you smirk. 

"You started it with your tail under the table," you say. 

Raditz rolls his eyes. He tries to look serious, but his tail is practically vibrating with excitement. 

"No," he says, "you're the one who started it by feeding me."

You consider this for a second, then shrug. 

"Well, I have something else for you to eat," you reply. 

Raditz leans in and puts his hands on your knees, a predatory grin on his face. 

"I know— smells delicious." 

You squeal as he clutches your legs and yanks you toward him. Your back flops against the bed as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.

Smirking, Raditz kisses a path down your chest, over your hip, and toward your inner thigh. His breath is hot against your skin, and you desperately wriggle in his grasp. 

He sits up a little as he moves one of his hands to the crux of your thighs. 

"Can I touch you?" He asks, his fingers gently stroking your inner thigh. 

Whether you've implied your consent or not, he's still asking. You give him a hazy, affectionate smile and nod. 

"Please," you say. 

At your word, his fingers trail inward to rest against your sex. You involuntarily flinch and he immediately removes his hand. Raditz looks up at you, his brows furrowed in concern. 

"You okay?" He asks. 

You feel your face flush in embarrassment. 

"Yeah," you say. "I'm just not used to this."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No. Go ahead." 

Raditz looks up at you intently as he repeats his previous motion. When you hold still, he gently strokes your labia, moving inward slowly with each touch. His fingers glide effortlessly across you; you're soaking wet— perhaps, the wettest you've ever been. 

He then drags his fingers upward to brush against your clit. You squeak and jump. Raditz freezes again. 

"That was a good one," you say. 

He chuckles and gives you a satisfied smile as he strokes your clit. You jump again, and he decides to change tactics. Pressing his finger against you, and begins to massage in a circular motion. 

You moan and push into his touch. That's much better. 

"Hm, is that how you like your snacks?" He asks. 

You blink in confusion. 

Oh!

"Yes," you say. 

"You touch yourself?" He murmurs. "What do you like to do?"

His other hand snakes up your thigh as he gives you a mischievous grin. 

You're shy about voicing it out loud, but you know he's playfully trying to figure out what you like. 

You bite your lip and skim your hands over your stomach, down to your aching core. As you begin to touch yourself, you briefly wonder if he means to ask for this, or if he wants you to just tell him. 

Well, it's no matter; he's entranced watching you touch yourself. As you run your fingers over your folds, you're not surprised to feel that you are quite literally dripping wet. 

You sweep some of your arousal up to your clit for additional lubrication and begin to touch yourself for his entertainment— education—

Edutainment. 

He is completely enraptured by your actions. His tail draws a lazy arc up through the air, then thrashes as it comes down. The black fur is fluffed up, in particular, on a patch a few inches down from where his tail and body meet. 

You work yourself over until you're panting and shaky. Not wanting to come just yet, you stop and remove your hands. Still, you whine and fight the urge to not continue touching yourself. 

Raditz looks up at you, visibly dazed. The smell must be something else entirely to him. 

"I think I know how this goes, now," he says. 

"Mhm."

You wriggle closer to him.

Raditz kisses his way up your thigh, as his hand moves inward. 

Gently, he pushes a finger inside you and watches your reaction intently. After a moment of soft, careful touch, he curls his finger experimentally. A sigh escapes your lips.

His fingers are huge compared to yours. They feel substantial and satisfying inside you, and you're desperate for more.

He pushes another finger inside you and gently thrusts them. There's a wet, squelching sound as he slowly curls his fingers. His cock twitches, and a the sight gives you a surge of arousal that makes you buck your hips into his hand.

Raditz swears under his breath.

“That's gonna—“

He flexes his fingers as he continues to gently thrust them.

“That's gonna feel real good,” he murmurs.

His cock twitches again. You can't help but feel greedy as you stare at it. It's big, but you think it'll be fine; you've got a toy about that size and you love how it feels.

“You okay?” he asks. “Doesn't hurt?”

You shake your head. “Doesn't hurt at all.”

He nods and moves his fingers faster.

“Uncomfortable?” he asks.

A smile spreads across your face and you close your eyes.

“Feels good,” you murmur.

You really want him to start fucking you, but he's the one with experience. He clearly wants you dripping wet for him. You're not sure how much wetter you can get, though.

You open your eyes to see him smirking in satisfaction. His tail flicks upward to caress your hip.

Raditz tosses his hair over his shoulder and leans in. 

You gasp and screw your eyes shut as his mouth joins his fingers. His fingers continue to stroke and press into you, and his tongue—

He's lapping up every bit of wetness he can get. He breathes in deeply and exhales in a moan. 

As his fingers pick up their pace, his tongue finally picks a place— your clitoris— and lavishes attention there. You pant and squirm while he tries various motions, from lapping, to licking and flicking. 

Raditz seals his mouth over your clit and begins to gently suck. Gasping, you bury your hands in his hair. 

You open your eyes and look down to see him staring up at you expectantly. 

He flicks his tongue over your clit while sucking. Moaning, you throw your head back in pleasure. 

"Yes!" You gasp. "Don't stop!" 

You feel him hum an assent against you and it takes everything in you to move your hands away from his head. You're damn near ready to rip his hair out. 

Raditz speeds up his motions and another moan escapes your lips.

Your breath leaves you in panting gasps as you arch your back and grip handfuls of the sheets below you. Your pleasure builds with each thrust of his fingers, and the hot, wet suction against your clit.

The dam of pleasure lets loose. You writhe and buck against him as your walls flutter and clench against his fingers. Vaguely, you realize that you're practically screaming, but you can't stop. 

The pleasure slowly ebbs away, and Raditz pulls his mouth away from you. His fingers languidly massage you through the last few seconds of your orgasm, then still when you do. 

Eventually, he gently withdraws his fingers and sits up. He watches you through hooded eyes as he licks your arousal off of them. 

You're trying to catch your breath. 

"Oh my God," you pant. 

You don't have words to describe the intensity of what you just felt.

Raditz pulls his fingers from his mouth, wipes his chin with the back of his hand, and gives you a smirk. 

“That's Saiyan excellence, sweetheart,” he purrs. "With the way you smell and taste, I can keep my head down here as long as you like."

The intense orgasm has you craving another, and you look down at his cock again. The sight of a long, thin line of pre-cum dripping off of the tip sends a jolt of desire straight to your core.

You sit up, wrap your arms around Raditz, and try to tug him closer.

“Please,” you beg, “I want–”

You silently finish your plea by pulling him with your arms, and attempting to wrap your legs around his hips. For all of his bulk, you might as well be trying to pull down a wall. 

Raditz finally lets you move him. He kneels between your legs and braces his arms on either side of your head. 

He has to hunch his back a bit to kiss you, but he does it all the same. Raditz then leans back some to spread your legs a little wider. 

"Alright," he says. "Let me know right away if this hurts." 

"Okay."

Your anxiousness is long gone and you bite your lip in anticipation. 

He shifts, takes his cock in hand, and gently presses the tip against your entrance. Your walls clench in needy anticipation, and you take a second to try to relax. 

Raditz slowly, agonizingly slides himself in and watches you carefully. Still, he can't stop the hissed curse that escapes his lips.

He's warm and thick and stretching you so nicely. A loud moan bubbles up from the back of your throat as you feel yourself getting even wetter for him. Still, he's big. 

There's a small twinge of discomfort, but it's nothing too terrible. You don't label it as pain. He's very deep inside you and it feels a little odd. 

“You okay?” he asks. “I know it's a lot.”

Your body begs for more stimulation and you can barely stand him being still. 

You nod. "Yes. Please, please—"

Raditz leans in and kisses you. 

"Hang on, beautiful," he murmurs. "I'll take care of you."

He pulls out a little, then slowly pushes back in. It feels so good that you're whining and desperately tugging on him again for more.

The next thrust has you feeling an unexpected twinge of discomfort.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “relax. You're clenching up real hard. Easy.”

You close your eyes, exhale, and do your best to relax. From your own experimentation with your fingers, you know how tense and strong you can get sometimes. You wonder how strong you feel to him, given that he can endure much, much more than the average human. 

Still, it's not too surprising to you that this is an issue, given your health problems. You take another calming breath, then nod after you relax a little. 

Raditz begins to slowly thrust again and nestles his head to the side of yours.

“There you go,” he moans. “Mm, that's a good girl.”

The hot breath against your ear sends a shiver racing down your spine. And maybe —just maybe— you love him calling you a good girl.

He picks up his pace.

Gasping and panting fills the air, along with the slick, rhythmic sound of your joining. You eagerly wrap your legs around him as much as you can. A whimper escapes your throat when you realize that you can't pull him in any closer than he already is. 

Your carnal instincts want him closer. You want him deep inside you— hot, throbbing, and coming. The realization has you squirming and whining beneath him. 

"Harder," you beg, unable to keep the desperation out of your voice. 

Raditz puts more force into his next thrust and moans loudly. 

"Yes!" you gasp. "Yes!" 

If people around you didn't know what you were up to, they definitely do now; the telltale, rhythmic sound of flesh striking against flesh grows ever louder. 

And, you can't keep quiet, even if your life depended on it. You're well-acquainted with your body, but you've never felt anything with such intensity before. 

Raditz brings a trembling hand to the side of your face, leans over, and kisses you. Parting your lips, you allow his tongue to caress yours. He swallows every whimper and moan you let out, and gives some in return. 

He draws back to rest his forehead against yours, and for a brief moment, your gazes meet. You're not sure what look you're giving him, but he looks at you like he's drowning at sea. 

He quickly moves to ravish your neck. With each breath he takes, he lets out a soft moan. 

Your arms are around his shoulders, and you're trying so hard to not claw up his back. You let out another whine and squeeze your legs around him again. It's quickly becoming your signal for him to go faster and harder. 

"Fuck," he rasps. "Hang on, baby. I've got you."
 
Raditz does exactly as you ask. You're moving with him as best as you can, but you feel clumsy in your attempts. 

Eventually, you let him do the moving for you. It's all you can do to hold on to him. Your moaning becomes staccato with each deeply reverberating thrust. 

More. 

You want more. Your pleasure is once again reaching a crescendo and you want—

You want—

Raditz moans loudly next to your ear and stills. His chest is heaving as he pants and grunts. 

Is— is he?

Sighing, Raditz turns to give you a languid kiss, which you eagerly return. Your unfulfilled body feels feverish with want, and you're desperate to lap up all of the attention he gives you. 

You hoped that maybe, you'd come with him inside you. You know that might not be the most realistic expectation for your first time, so, while you're a little disappointed, you also accept it for what it is. 

He is very good with his mouth and his fingers. But, still, that huge cock of his is—

You involuntarily clench around him, and he breaks the kiss with a soft moan. 

Raditz pushes his torso up from the bed so that he's kneeling. Gently, he grabs your hips to hold you up higher. 

Turning his head to the side, he takes a look at the angle, thinks better of it, grabs a pillow, and slides it beneath your lower back. His hands go back to your hips. Closing his eyes, he bends backward a little to stretch. His muscles ripple and his tail curls upward behind him. 

Your assumption is clearly incorrect; he's still hard. 

Raditz tosses his hair behind him and gives you a cheeky grin. He looks you in the eye as he starts to move again. His pace starts out slow, but soon, he's resumed where you left off. 

You're quickly back to where you were before.

His tail sneaks forward to where you're joined. It curls against your clit, repeating a motion that you showed him with your fingers earlier. 

Between that and his relentless thrusts, it takes little time for you to reach your peak. You thrash beneath him and scramble to hold on to whatever you can as your walls flutter and clench around him. 

As your orgasm ebbs away, his thrusts slow, and he removes his tail from your clit. When you've caught your breath, he gently withdraws and slides the pillow out from underneath your lower back. 

He pulls you up into a sitting position and kisses you tenderly. Sighing, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean in—

His erection pokes you in the stomach and you break the kiss with a chuckle. Emboldened, you wrap your hand around him and start to gently stroke him. He twitches in your hand as you grow more bold; your grip is firm compared to your earlier, tentative caressing. 

Biting your lip, you look up at him. 

"We've gotta do something about this," you say. "Got any ideas?"

The barely-restrained desire in his gaze has you wondering what you've gotten yourself into. 

Raditz gently grabs your wrist and removes your hand. 

“Hurting anywhere?” he asks, completely dodging your question.

You're always hurting somewhere, but you know that's not what he means. 

“Nope. Not at all.”

“You think you're ok to get on your hands and knees?” he asks.

“Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem.”

Oh, you really like this idea. 

He caresses your hips as you get into position. Grabbing a few pillows, he slides them under your stomach.

“Let me know if you need to move,” he says.

You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. With his hands gripping your hips, he gently sides in. After a short pause, his hand glides down your back and between your shoulders. 

"Relax," he murmurs. "You don't have to hold yourself up."

You follow his suggestion and allow the pillows to hold the bulk of your body weight. You don't know what to do with your arms, but you're sure you'll figure that out. 

Raditz gently grips your hips and gives a few experimental thrusts. 

The new angle feels so good. 

"Yes," you gasp. 

He thrusts into you harder and faster. 

"Oh, yes!" you moan. 

Raditz grunts and soon, he's letting out a gasping grunt with each thrust. He doesn't seem to have the patience to go slow, this time. 

With him fucking you from behind, you feel like a toy in his huge hands. This powerful, strong man —an alien; a were-ape capable of mass destruction— has you entirely at his mercy. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans. “Fuck.”

The edge of desperation to his lust-filled voice has you thinking that, perhaps, he's at your mercy as well. 

Raditz doesn't waste time in slipping his tail between your legs to massage your throbbing clit. 

You quickly figure out what to do with your arms:

Hold on to the bed, and hold on tight.

With each thrust and stroke of his tail, your moans get progressively louder, until you're nearly screaming. His touch is relentless and you feel your pleasure building rapidly. 

Searing ecstasy rips through you. You bury your face against the mattress as you scream and claw at the sheets. Your legs threaten to buckle; you barely manage to stay up, and you're grateful for the pillows underneath you.

Raditz fucks you through your orgasm, then slows again. He caresses your hips and strokes your back while you gather yourself. After the last of the aftershocks ebb away, Raditz leans forward and presses a kiss to your back. 

He pulls out, sits back, and caresses your back as your legs collapse. His kisses and soft touch slowly revive you. After you catch your breath, you slowly push yourself up to sit.

Raditz gently guides you to turn around. In a stark contrast to the pace you were just going, he kisses you slowly.

Raditz helps you rearrange yourself so you're in a similar position as to how you started. As his mouth works its way up your neck, he positions himself between your spread legs.

You feel like a live wire from your last orgasm, and it hurts this time when he presses inside you.

“Baby, you're doing it again,” he murmurs. “Relax.”

“Sorry.”

“You're fine,” he says. “I just don't want to hurt you. Mm. There you go.”

He continues to lavish attention across your neck.

“Fuck, that's good," he whispers. “Such a good girl.”

Raditz goes slow and soft with powerful, grinding thrusts. He can't keep his mouth still in any capacity; when he's not kissing you or your neck, he's murmuring in your ear.

"I wanted you the second I saw you."

His kisses are hungry once again. 

"You're so fucking beautiful."

His mouth goes to your jaw, then down to your neck. 

"You feel so good. Fuck." 

You whimper and rock against him.

"Music to my ears. Good girl."

He's taking his time with you again, and it's the sweetest torture. 

"You smell— God, you smell so fucking good."

Raditz reaches down to stroke your clit. You gasp and buck against him. The tail is nice, but there's something about his fingers that feels more intimate.

“There you go,” he rasps. “That's my good girl. Can you come for me?”

You're panting and moaning and holding onto him for dear life.

“So close,” you gasp.

He finally thrusts faster. He leans in to nip at your jaw, his hot breath ghosting across your ear.

“Come for me.”

His words send you over the edge.

You're moaning and writhing while your legs instinctively open even wider for him. Even as you come down from your high, you can't help but spread your legs as wide as possible and push into him.

Raditz groans and buries his face against the crook of your neck. His thrusts falter. 

Panting, he sits up slightly. He's holding your legs just above the backs of your knees. He moves one of your legs further to the side, and the grinding turns into faster, deeper thrusting. 

Is he preparing to pull out?

Well, that won't do. 

"Come inside me," you insist, wrapping your legs around him tightly. 

Raditz hisses out a curse, drops your legs, and clutches handfuls of the sheets below you. Gasping, he pushes deep inside you and stills for a second. 

You feel his cock swell as it starts throbbing. 

"Fuck!"

He can't hold back. He throws his head back and thrusts into you hard and slow.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Yes!”

His tail curls behind him and twitches as he pulses inside you. 

The sight of Raditz coming completely undone and the feeling of him coming inside you is the most erotic experience you've ever had. You're quickly grinding and whimpering against him as another orgasm hits you. Even as you thrash against him, you can't tear your gaze away. 

Raditz looks like he's going to die from feeling you coming all over him again. 

“Ah! Fuck!" he gasps. "Fuck! Fuuuuck!”

His last few thrusts border on painful, but they are too few to cause concern. 

Raditz finally stills. The tension leaves his body and he visibly deflates. Still, he's panting hard. 

“Damn, woman.”

Even though you're thoroughly satisfied, you can't help but to lust after the sweating, panting wall of muscle between your legs. You take in the way his abdomen moves as he pants, the bulging veins on his arms, the bead of sweat that runs down his Adam's apple, his fluffed up tail, and the glazed, sleepy look in his dark eyes. 

You're responsible for the state he's in. You're very proud of yourself.

Okay, technically, it's a team effort. But, you still take some credit. 

Raditz catches his breath, withdraws from you, sits up, and moves to the side. Gingerly, you rest your feet against the mattress, then slowly straighten your trembling right leg. Your hip makes a cracking noise —not unusual— as you finally put your leg down. 

Raditz looks at you in alarm. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," you say. "It does that sometimes. I'm just a little stiff." 

He nods, but he looks skeptical. "Did I hurt you?"

"Nope, this is normal for me."

He seems to be trying to make sense of the whole thing. Eventually he shrugs.

"Good," he says. "I was concerned because you're so frag— delicate."

You chuckle at his self-censorship.

"Eh, I'm fragile, too," you say. "It is what it is."

You bend your right leg at the knee and straighten it a few times before putting it down. Without prompting, Raditz takes hold of your left leg and gently helps you put it down and stretch. 

You sigh when you realize that hip isn't going to pop. Thank God; you don't like the feeling. 

Raditz helps you stretch both legs, then returns to your side. Leaning in, he cups your cheek and kisses you softly. When you break the kiss, there's an odd look in his eyes— one you've seen on yourself plenty of times. 

Is he lonely, too? 

Raditz wraps his arm around you and pulls you toward his side. After what you've been told about Saiyans, you're pleasantly surprised that he wants to cuddle. 

You curl up next to him and sigh. It's strange to you that you know so much of him, yet so little at the same time. Thinking about it, though, the same applies in reverse. 

Maybe he will stay the rest of the night? The hand caressing your back is gentle and comforting. And the sex you just had, well—

This man has single-handedly given you several new kinks.

You think back to what he said about ruining you, and you're a little afraid. 

He's probably right.

Chapter Text

Things have gone in a completely different direction than Raditz expected.

Last night's original plans included trying to find some porn with a woman who looks like you and attempting to quietly jerk off.

But no, he's got the real thing. And you literally walked up to him and asked him to fuck you.

Goddamn. He's having the best sex of his life. It's not that you're particularly skilled; you're clumsy, even though you are getting the idea. Honestly, in his experience, taking someone's virginity is overrated.

There's some sort of energy between you two that he's never felt before. When you kiss, there's an immediate and intense spark. When he enters you, it damn near steals his breath away. When he comes inside you—

It's fucking nuclear fusion.

While he's not particularly pleased with his performance for your first time, he knows that it could have been way worse. With the first position, there was a close call. He hasn't been that turned on in a very, very long time. 

The first time made him actually fall asleep next to you, so it's good he showed you a fun time beforehand.

Raditz feels a little bad —only a little— that his dick keeps poking you awake. Though he desperately wants to pick you up and fuck you like a toy, he treats you as softly and gently as possible. You're so tiny next to him. 

There will be time to try other things, eventually. There's no need to toss you into the deep end. He can't get enough of you, and thankfully, you seem to feel likewise. 

Something about your scent has him feeling feverish and a bit wild. He can't quite discern what it is over the smell of his cum; there's a lot of it in there. Whatever it is, he's never experienced it before. It's a little concerning, but he's been able to control himself so far. 

The smell gets stronger by the minute. 

Maybe this is all a Saiyan thing, but he's not about to ask Nappa about these new developments. 

It's good that your alarm is going off soon; he's hard again and already leaking. He hopes his dick will leave him alone after you get him to cum a few more times.

Obviously, Raditz wants to fuck all day rather than get his ass kicked. Vegeta and Nappa are going to be pissed at him for messing around, and he expects they're going to beat up on him even more than usual, today.

Well, Nappa might understand. Vegeta has become so uptight that Raditz wonders if he's ever going to drink or fuck again.

A piercing noise from the other side of the bed makes him bolt upright with a ball of energy ready in his hand. Raditz tries to slow his breathing as he watches as you give a groggy grumble, reach over, and fiddle with your phone. Sighing, he allows the energy to dissipate and lies down to curl up behind you.

Right. That alarm is going to have to change before it puts him into survival mode tomorrow. 

There will be a tonight, right? And then a tomorrow? Raditz has been very good, yes? 

He snuggles close to you and gently runs his hand up and down your arm. Before he knows it, his tail is wrapped around your leg. Raditz buries his nose against the crown of your head, inhaling deeply as he nuzzles you. 

He can't help how his upper lip curls up past his teeth, nor how his tongue flickers out to taste the air. 

You sigh next to him. 

"Morning," you mumble. 

"Morning."

Before he can think it through, he's pressing his needy cock against your ass. A grunt escapes his lips and he starts humping against you. 

You give a sleepy chuckle. 

"Good morning to you, too, buddy," you murmur. "Up and perky again, hm?"

You look at your phone again and sigh. 

"God it is way too early," you grumble. 

Raditz slows but doesn't stop. Too early for a little sex? What's happening to his horny good girl? 

"I dunno how you can do this all the time," you say. 

Sex? Fucking? You? 

He can do you all the time, if you let him. His dick agrees.

You fiddle around with your phone to set another alarm, then lift your top leg slightly. Raditz definitely doesn't whine when his cock slips against your dripping wet cunt. 

"I want to go back to bed," you murmur. "But let's start your day out with something nice first."

He hums in agreement and continues to slide his dick all over your arousal. Even through the sheets, your scent permeates the air, and his lip curls again. 

He's gotta stop, or he's going to end up making a mess like a dumb teenager. But he really, really can't stop. 

You lift your leg higher. 

"Stop teasing and fuck me," you grumble. 

Yes!

Still, it's like he's possessed and he can't stop moving. Raditz changes the angle of his hips and slips against you a few more times until the tip of his dick catches against your entrance and slowly, mercifully slides in. 

The sensation of sliding into your wet heat makes him moan and his hair stand on end. 

This isn't necessarily his favorite position, but it'll keep him from getting too rough. Raditz clutches you close to his body as he fucks you. He's trying so hard to be gentle and show you a good time. 

That smell, however is driving him to the brink of his self-control. He keeps involuntarily tasting the air, and the last thing he wants to do is bare his teeth while trying to kiss you. 

He winds his tail around your top leg, lifting it higher so he can go deeper. The arm draped across your torso shifts downward to massage your clit, just the way you showed him.

And oh, what a show that was. He's gonna jerk off to that memory the rest of his life. 

Your gasps of pleasure soon turn into moans. Those moans become screams, and those screams mean you're about to—

Oh, fuck yes. 

You're pushing back against him and contracting around his dick and he feels—

Oh, fuck. Seriously?

Raditz knows he needs to pause, but he's too lost to the sensation to stop. Still, he decides to push it, ever so slightly. He lifts your leg higher and surges forward.

The deep thrust sends him over the edge. He's panting and tasting the air and the smell has him groaning as he sheathes his throbbing cock inside you as deeply as he can. 

Raditz sighs as he comes down from the high. He's got to go train, so maybe it's good that his erection is pretty much gone.

Still, he feels like he's burning up from the inside. That smell. What is that smell? 

He's huffing the air and whatever that smell is, he can't get enough of it. 

Absently, he lazily thrusts inside you, even though he's only slightly hard. 

You mumble something that he misses. Before he knows it, you toss the sheet off of your bodies. 

The alluring smell whacks Raditz in the face. Gasping, he draws as much of it as he can into his lungs. Pleasure zips down his spine and straight to his balls and he swears he can't fucking breathe because he doesn't want the smell to leave his body, but— 

Again? Is he really going to—? 

He's not even hard. He's— 

He's coming. Oh God. Oh fuck. He's coming.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

The smell leaves his lungs through a loud, long moan. His body is writhing and he barely has the wherewithal to move his tail from your leg to his. 

Raditz' next breath brings in a fresh new wave of that addictive smell, and with it, his dick finally catches up and gets hard. He thrusts deep inside you and the torturous orgasm continues. 

Raditz screws his eyes shut and grabs a handful of the sheets, squeezing so hard that his forearm hurts. 

Absently, he registers your hand moving down to touch yourself. The reality of what you're doing hits him hard as you rhythmically clench around him and whimper. 

He's dying. He's coming and he's dying and he's going to die. Bottle up some of that smell and shove that in his urn with his fucking ashes. 

After an eternity, Raditz' poor dick and balls call it quits. He collapses, and he's glad he's not on top of you. 

Still, his lip is curled up, and he's tasting the air. 

"Wow," you mumble. "You okay?"

Raditz finally nods as his mouth relaxes, not realizing that he's behind you and you can't see him while you're facing forward. 

You twist in place and reach up to stroke his cheek.

"Raditz, you okay?"

He blinks and surfaces from his stupor.

"Ye."

You put your hand on his bicep and gently caress his arm, up to his hair tie where you fiddle with it. The slow, soothing touch gently brings his mind back into focus. 

"That smell," he murmurs.

"What smell?" you ask.

"Dunno," Raditz says. "Smells good."

Quite an understatement, on his part.

You get an odd look on your face, before reaching for your phone. 

He watches as you unlock it and flip through your apps. You open something that looks like a calendar.

"Hm," you say. "My tracker says I might be ovulating today. Maybe you're smelling that?"

"Makes sense," he mumbles, still dazed from what he swears is close to a near-death experience. 

Raditz holds his breath as you toss the covers back on and put your phone down. He waits until he's fairly sure that the air has stilled from the sheet moving before taking his next breath. 

There's still quite a bit of that smell. Raditz needs to get out of bed before he has a chance to get hard again. 

"Go back to sleep," he says. 

"Mhm." 

Sighing, he leans over to kiss your cheek —a foolish, hormone-driven sentiment— then rolls over to slide out of bed. There's probably just enough time to get a quick shower. He stumbles his way back into his pants and picks his shirt up off of the floor, before heading to the door. 

He spares a glance at you to see that you're burrowed under the covers so deeply that only the top of your head peeks out. 

Adorable.

Raditz wants to go back and give you one more kiss on the cheek. He scoffs and leaves your room quickly, blaming your scent for his weakness. 

He goes back to his room, grabs some fresh clothes, and heads to the shower. The process of twisting his hair into a gigantic pile on top of his head and securing it with a band is nearly automatic. 

It annoys him more than anything when he's got to jerk off in the shower, but it seems to finally settle him down. 

As he cleans his tail, the realization hits him that he's still going to have your smell all over him because he doesn't have time to wash his hair. 

Well, everyone knows anyway, with you moaning and screaming his name all night. And he's not exactly quiet, either. 

Still, fuck that smell. 

Mm. Fuck that smell, though.

Raditz feels his dick twitch and quickly squashes all the mental images he gets from that thought. He doesn't have the time to get off— again.

He quickly dries off and throws his training clothes on. The scent of breakfast lures him down to the kitchen, and away from the relative safety of being by himself. 

As Raditz enters the kitchen, Vegeta and Nappa stop eating and turn to stare at him. 

Fuck, that's terrifying. 

Under their predatory gazes, he gives them a sheepish smile and takes his seat at the table. 

"Sleep well?" Vegeta grouses. 

Raditz shrinks in his seat. "Yes, Prince Vegeta."

Vegeta fixes him with a nasty glare. 

"I didn't," he says. "Someone kept me awake all fucking night."

Raditz shrinks further and wants to melt into the floor. They should be used to this from the barracks, but it has been a while since they've lived that life. 

Vegeta turns back to his food, then frowns. Looking up, he sniffs the air in disgust. 

"You seriously didn't bother to wash up?" 

Raditz stares down at his still-empty plate. 

"I didn't have time to do my hair," he admits. 

Vegeta stabs a sausage with more force than necessary and pointedly bites it in half. 

"And you're going to make that our problem?" He scowls. "Gonna make us smell your stink all day?" 

Nappa winces. "It's not that bad. You kids smelled worse when you were teenagers." 

Nappa quickly becomes the subject of Vegeta's ire.

"I didn't stink," he hisses. "I know what soap is. This low class acts like he's too poor to afford soap. We live in a fucking mansion for free."

Nappa shoves a plate of food over to Raditz then holds his hands up in appeasement. 

"Alright," he says. "I know it's annoying. But you're definitely too strong to let it effect you. You know how the lower classes are with self-discipline."

Raditz glowers and shoves food in his mouth to keep himself from saying something stupid. He knows this is Nappa's way of diffusing the situation. 

Judging by Vegeta's eye roll, it appears to have worked a little.

Your screaming kept them awake all night; he's really proud of how he can keep you going. Raditz is weak, but goddamn, he knows how to fuck. It's one of the few things he has left in which he has total confidence.

Nappa shakes his head and grabs a slice of toast. 

"That frumpy chick in the baggy clothes," he scoffs. "Unreal. Coulda at least tried for Bulma. She's a feisty one, and hot as hell."

Vegeta scowls at him from across the table. 

"You will not harass our host," he spits. "Stay the hell away from m— Bulma."

Raditz freezes. He hasn't heard Vegeta get that territorial in many years. Whatever ideas Raditz has about Bulma are promptly discarded. 

Besides, he thinks he's got the better one of the two. 

Raditz ultimately shrugs. 

"I like what I've got," he says. 

Nappa cackles. "Pussy's that good, eh? Her face is nice enough, I suppose."

Raditz gives a sheepish nod. He doesn't want to share more than he has to, but he has walked right into this discussion. 

"Okay, in one word," Nappa says, "describe the pussy with one word."

Raditz freezes. There's a time when he would have answered that without hesitation. But, this is a nice little situation he's got going on, and he's determined to not fuck it up. You're an innocent little thing, too—

Innocent-ish. Kinda.

Still, Nappa has a look in his eye that suggests that he might beat up on Raditz during training until he provides an answer. 

Raditz sighs and looks at the floor. He thinks about how you feel around him —strong, sometimes to the point where he reminded you to relax— and realizes with a start that "strong" is the worst possible word to use in this scenario. 

He's not sure if he's just extra horny or extra lonely, but you feel so warm and inviting around him, in more than just a physical sense. He thinks about the first time he pushed his fingers inside you, and how it felt. Before he knows it, his damp tail is lazing around on the cool tile of the kitchen floor, rather than looped appropriately around his waist.

After a moment, he has his answer: 

"Plush."

Vegeta shakes his head in disapproval, while Nappa stares at the ceiling in thought. Raditz supposes it's a strange answer, but it's the only word he can think of to describe it.

After a while, Nappa nods. 

"Sounds like some damn good pussy," he muses. "But you'd better be ready to do some serious training. You need to get your shit together. Still, good on ya."

Vegeta scowls across the table. "You degenerates need to shut up."

"Aw, come on," Nappa chuckles. "It's not like you haven't screwed around before."

Vegeta rolls his eyes. "Unlike Raditz, I have the common sense to not make a mess of where I eat, sleep, and train. If either of you cause trouble, I will not help you. And I'll be damned if either of you screw this up for me."

"Yeah, he did kinda piss in the pool, didn't he?" Nappa says. 

Raditz cringes. That metaphor is unfortunately apt. 

"I was good," he insists. "There won't be trouble."

He has no clue if that's true or not, but he thinks he's pleased you enough that Bulma won't mind him. You did, after all, offer him sex while you were half asleep this morning.

Raditz thinks he's given you just what you need to go back to sleep soundly. 

Vegeta grumbles in disgust, stands up from the table, and leaves the kitchen without a word. 

Shrugging, Raditz gets back to his meal. 

Nappa clears his throat.

"You should spot-wash your hair, kid," he mumbles. "I'll stall him if I can."

Nappa leaves and Raditz shoves a few slices of toast in his mouth before looking down. 

A section of his hair innocently rests on the table, clumped with some not-so-innocent whitish crust. Wincing, he stands and makes his way back to the bathroom.

Breakfast has been cut a bit short, thanks to his indiscretion. Raditz knows he's going to pay for it, one way or another. 

There's a decent chance that Vegeta might make him miss his next meal.

Well, if Raditz doesn't see you at second breakfast, maybe he will see you around lunch. He knows he's given you quite a workout, and he wants to make sure you're ready for him later.

Your alarm jars you awake. You're not wearing your earplugs like usual, and you realize only now how loud it is.

Turning off your alarm, you slowly sit up and take your morning meds while you work to calm your racing heart. 

You feel something trickling out of your body and practically jump out of bed with your hand between your legs to catch it. You're not supposed to have a—

Your face flushes as you realize that it's not blood.

Your mind replays various scenes from last night, each one more lurid than the last. By your own request, you're completely debauched. 

Flat out asking him to have sex with you has removed any ambiguity from the encounter. You don't like games and prefer a direct approach in general. 

So far, you have no regrets. From everything you know about most people's first time, you realize you've hit the jackpot. 

Obviously, you want more. And the fact that Raditz couldn't keep his hands off of you this morning is good indication that he's up for it. 

You sigh and waddle toward the bathroom. There is absolutely no fucking way you're leaving your room without a full shower and a few visits with the bidet. You smell so much like sex that even a human with a flu can probably smell it. 

That, and there's something obscene trickling down your thigh.

You step into the shower, sighing as the hot water loosens your sore muscles. You're not as sore as you expect, and you think that has something to do with your conscientious partner. 

Raditz checks in with you, even when he seems to be losing it. He makes sure you're not in the same position for too long, and he's especially careful with your hips.

The help with stretching is so sweet, too. 

You finish your shower, dry off, and put on some sweats and a t-shirt. Sighing, you make your way to the door. You steel yourself as you turn the knob and step out into the hallway. 

You're not sure if this counts as a walk of shame, or not. Bulma will have a lot of questions.

There's absolutely no way Vegeta and Nappa didn't hear anything. You expect Nappa to talk shit at the first opportunity. 

You step into the kitchen and sigh in relief. 

Mrs. Briefs is in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast, which you appear to have missed again. You're fine with that, though; you don't want to deal with everyone looking at you. 

"Good morning, sweetheart," she says. "I've got a fresh pot of coffee ready and saved you some food. Bulma's out on the patio."

You thank her with a groggy mumble. 

"You're just like Bulma," she giggles. "Not a morning person."

You chuckle as you grab some coffee. 

"I'm not," you admit. 

She wipes the counter down and lets you know where she's put the food, then leaves you alone. You're grateful that she's not too chatty. 

Sighing, you take your coffee out to the patio. Bulma is curled up in her usual spot, with a cup of coffee in her hands. 

"Morning," she says. "How did you sleep?"

Naked. You slept naked. 

"Pretty well. You?"

Bulma yawns and takes a sip of her coffee. 

"Once my head hit the pillow, I was out," she says. 

"Oh? Completely out?" You chuckle. 

"Dead to the world," she laughs. "I don't think even a bomb would have woken me up."

Oh, shit. She has no idea what you've done. And you figure that if Mrs. Briefs heard something, she would have said something earlier. With the amount of romance novels laying around and her chattiness, she's probably the type to talk about it. 

You look down at your coffee in thought. This is definitely something to talk to your friend about. But, you're going to a party today, and you have no clue if Bulma will keep her mouth shut while you're there. 

Afterward, though? Oh, yes. 

It's gonna be tough to be quiet all day about it. It's shocking that you've done this, especially with how you went about it. 

"Feeling good today?" Bulma asks.

You blink and shake yourself out of your thoughts.

"Doing okay," you say. 

"Glad to hear it," she says. "You've been smiling since you sat down." 

"Well, I slept well," you say. 

You did not, in fact, sleep well. You barely slept. 

It hits you that you already told her you slept well. At least you have "is not a morning person" as a decent excuse. 

"Yamcha will be here in two-ish hours," she says. "He's never on time to anything, though. There's food at the party, but you might want to eat first."

She's hinting that there will be alcohol both before and during the party. That's fine; you're going to skip drinks tomorrow in order to recharge. 

You sit in a companionable silence as you both drink your coffee and try to wake up. You eventually help yourself to the generous amount of food Mrs. Briefs saved for you, and finish up just as lunch is being prepared. 

You don't want to see Nappa and Vegeta right now. Excusing yourself, you clean up your dirty dishes —much to Mrs. Briefs' protest— and prepare to head to your room to change for the party.

Bulma hands you a can of hard cider on your way out of the kitchen. 

Yep. No drinks tomorrow. The last thing you want is a flare up of your condition from the added inflammation. 

You get to your room and sip your drink as you dig through your clothes. The party is just a casual meetup of a bunch of friends. You know it's on a small, tropical island. 

You're feeling very confident today, and it's not much of a surprise. 

Ah. You know the perfect outfit. Smiling, you pull it out of your bag.

As you change, you take a look at the time and see that you have just enough time to get your hair and whatever else fixed up the way you like it. 

By the time you're done, the cider is gone. You're smiling, and you're not sure if it's from that, or from everything else. 

You shake your head as you look in the mirror. You're smiling from all those orgasms. No buzz is going to make you so happy.

Checking your phone, you see a text from Bulma saying Yamcha is late, as expected. You figure you might as well go and wait with Bulma, then go back to your room to get your bag and phone when he gets here. 

After you step out of your room, you see Raditz down the hall. You have to pass him to get to the main room, so you head in his direction. 

He waits for you, and as you stop in front of him, he looks you up and down. 

"I like this," he says. "Who are you dressing up for? Anyone I know?"

He's trying to act cool, but he looks a little anxious. 

You're torn between being a little flattered, and being concerned that he might get possessive. 

"Myself," you answer. 

Raditz nods slowly as he mulls over your answer. 

It's an honest answer, but you elaborate. 

"I want to look nice," you say. "We're going to a party."

"And what about around here?" He asks. 

You shrug. "I wasn't feeling good so I decided to be comfortable."

Raditz chuckles. 

"So, you're feeling good?" He asks. 

You bite your lip. 

"I'm feeling real good," you say.

He steps closer.

"So, there's a situation I could use some help with," Raditz says. 

You're prepared to be helpful, but his smirk has you wondering what's going on. That is, until you catch a glimpse of the issue on the periphery of your vision:

He's getting hard just talking to you. 

"Oh my," you chuckle. "That's a huge problem."

"I think you're qualified to handle it," he replies. 

"Well, I'll give you more than a handle."

You giggle and motion toward the bathroom down the hall with a slight nod. He follows you there, and with each step you take, the familiar burn of lust begins to smolder within your core. 

By the time you reach the bathroom, flick the lights on, close the door, and lock it behind you, the embers of your need have become a flame. A jolt of desire strikes you as you see that the bulge in his sweatpants has become a full tent. You flip the bathroom fan on in a meek attempt to attempt to cover some of the noise you're about to make. 

A pair of hands grips your hips, and Raditz lifts you up to set you on the bathroom counter. His kisses are hungry and desperate. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his hips and press yourself against him. He lets out a breathy groan and thrusts against you, the friction causing you to gasp. 

Reaching behind you, he turns the tap on, then trails kisses down your neck. After a moment, he tests the temperature of the water and yanks a washcloth out of a nearby basket. 

"I am gross as hell from training," he snickers. "You do not want any of this in or on you unwashed."

You laugh and nod in agreement. 

"Yeah, I don't want that," you say. 

You hop off of the bathroom counter, just as he finishes washing himself. You shimmy your pants and underwear down your hips and give the cabinet a thoughtful look. Opening the cabinet, you see that there's plenty of space inside and use the inside ledge to gain a small step up. It's not a lot of extra height, but it will make things a little easier, at least. 

Raditz steps up behind you, wraps his arm around your hip, and slides his hand down lower. He swipes his fingers over your folds and curses under his breath. As he pulls his hand away, a string of your arousal drips from his fingers. He leans over your back, crouches slightly, and rubs his cock against your sopping core. After a few thrusts, he pulls back and strokes himself to spread your arousal over him. 

He wraps one arm around your waist and lines himself up against you. 

As he slowly penetrates you, your gaze meets his in the mirror. You groan in unison, but whether it's from the first contact of your shared heat or the intense eye contact, you can't really say. 

He begins to thrust inside you, and the sounds of panting and wet friction meet the air. You look into the mirror to see your faces both flushed, eyes hooded with desire. His hands move to your hips and he hunches over to bury his face against the nape of your neck. Hot breath ghosts across your skin in short puffs. 

He's well and truly humping you at this point. The primal sight has you reaching down to touch yourself. As you stroke your swollen clit, your muscles clench around him. A groan sounds behind you, and you feel his mouth opening and shutting against your nape. 

Raditz pulls away from your neck and hunches further to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades. While you can't see what he's doing, you hear his teeth chattering together as if he's shivering. It reminds you of a dog snapping at the air when they smell something interesting. 

His jaw continues to snap shut behind you, and gives you a sharp reminder that he's definitely not human. You're used to the tail, and it doesn't faze you to see it thrashing behind him in the heat of the moment. 

He straightens his back and looks up as he repeatedly inhales. His mouth is slightly open, and his upper lip is drawn up into a grimace. The sight of his bared fangs and slightly wrinkled nose should scare you, but instead, you're turned on even more. You know what a flehmen response is, and your scent is driving him wild. 

The action awakens a kink in you that you never knew existed.

Your gazes meet in the mirror again, and though you are mostly clothed, you've never felt so naked before in your life. 

Raditz snakes his hand around your hip to your front. Sliding his fingers between yours, he takes over in touching you. 

Combined with what you're certain is a flehmen response, the intimacy of the act of holding hands in such a way becomes your undoing. You quickly cover your mouth with your other hand to suppress your whimpers as bliss overtakes you. 

Raditz isn't far behind. His legs tremble and he buries himself deep inside you. As his jaw quivers and snaps shut, he utters a deep, inhuman sound— almost a growl. 

You might be jealous of the length and intensity of his orgasm if it weren't for the pained look on his face. Even in the throes of passion, he looks desperate for relief. 

Eventually, his trembling legs weaken and he grabs the edge of the bathroom counter to keep from collapsing. Raditz sighs and kisses the back of your neck before eventually standing. 

He withdraws, but stays behind you. Wrapping his arms around you, he holds you tightly against him and hunches to nuzzle your nape. The kisses he leaves on your neck are tender, almost affectionate, if you didn't know better. 

The following kiss when you turn to face him has you questioning whether you know better or not. 

You bask in the warmth of his embrace for another moment, then reluctantly pull back. 

Raditz sighs and leans down to kiss your forehead. 

"I'm probably late to get back to training," he says. 

You lean in and wrap your arms around him in what is supposed to be a hug. It quickly devolves into kissing; it takes a considerable amount of willpower to step back. 

Pulling your pants up and fixing your clothes puts a note of finality onto the encounter. 

The spell is broken, and you both quickly redress. You head to the bathroom door, open it, and peek out into the hallway. 

Thankfully, it's empty. 

You turn the lights and fan off, then step out into the hall, with Raditz close behind. Glancing over to him, you notice that his cheeks are flushed, and his tail is fluffed up.

The lazy, satisfied smile he wears is quickly becoming one of your favorite looks.

"Come by when you're done training tonight," you say.

You want to see more of him like that. 

Raditz turns and gives you a quick kiss. 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he says.

With that, you part ways. 

Sighing, you make your way back to your bedroom, then grab your phone. You look at the time and curse. There's definitely no time to shower. 

You unlock your phone to see two messages from Bulma:

The first tells you that Yamcha is here.

In the second one, she asks where you are. 

The second message is seven minutes old. 

Shit.

You tap out a quick reply that you're going to go to the bathroom, and you'll be out in a minute.

Thank God for the bidet. You make generous use of it in your ensuite and hope that it'll be enough.

Still, you aren't sure how much is left in there from this morning, let alone from a few minutes ago. 

The timing wasn't optimal, but, God, that sex was a complete rush. You have no regrets.

A pantyliner will help, right?

Right. It's a no-brainer.

It'll be fine.

Raditz needs to get his shit together. He's taken several punches to the gut that are well within his ability to dodge. 

Nappa watches as Vegeta knees Raditz in the gut again and sighs. If it keeps going, he'll stop it somehow; Raditz has already puked up everything in his gullet. Next it'll be blood, and that's the time to call it quits. They don't have regen tanks on this planet, so they need to keep injuries to a reasonable level.

He suspects that even if Raditz could concentrate, Vegeta would still beat the shit out of him more than usual. 

Vegeta is nothing but rage, these days. It's a bitter, frustrated rage—

Like he's swallowed poison and is waiting for everyone else to die instead. 

He's worked his ass off his whole life, then Kakarot comes out of nowhere and destroys the natural order of things. He can't get his revenge against Frieza. He's stuck on this planet and training his ass off to show Kakarot what a real Saiyan's like. 

Along comes Kakarot's brother, pretty-boy Raditz, keeping Vegeta awake all night. Then, Raditz seems to disrespect their training session by appearing to not try. He shows up after lunch smelling like fresh pussy. 

So it's no wonder that Vegeta feels a certain kind of way about Raditz and his new girlie. 

It ain't right, though. Raditz needs some pussy to build his confidence back up. And the broad showers him with praise. 

Yuck. Pretty voice from a pretty mouth, saying a name Nappa doesn't want to hear in that context. 

Still, good on him. Seriously. 

Nappa thinks it's unwise that Raditz is going for a cripple —oops, rude word— sickly gal. 

Cripple. Odd that some Earthlings find it offensive. 

Nappa hates being called a monkey, though, so he gets it. Kinda. It ain't his business either way. He just won't say it, if he can remember. He's sure that you'll scold him if he says it in front of you— as you should. 

Whatever you don't have in physical strength, you more than make up for it with your attitude. Saiyan men love a feisty woman, and you're razor sharp. 

Still, it's a little worrying. Realistically, Raditz can accidentally pound the girl into meat.

Is she really aware of that? 

Nappa looks at the fresh bruise down Raditz' thigh and sighs. It's only a matter of time before the kid forgets to move his tail and crushes your leg instead of coiling his own. 

Those will be some really unpleasant screams. The noise situation right now isn't the best but—

Could be worse. Raditz went to her room far down the hall. At least they weren't fucking in the next room over. 

Raditz probably has the sense to keep it that way, too. 

Nappa thinks Vegeta should just get some earplugs. He gets that Vegeta isn't used to barracks noise anymore, but his sensitivity to this is a bit much, in Nappa's opinion. 

Nappa isn't stupid. It ain't about the noise, really. Maybe it's jealousy— of either Raditz or the girl. He knows the boys fool around from time to time and turns a blind eye. In the old days, it would mean a death sentence for Raditz for touching the Prince. They'd both rather the girl, though, so Nappa isn't sure that it's jealousy.

Hm. No, it's more about control. 

Vegeta's feeling himself with his new power, but he's also hating himself for it not being enough. There's no such thing as "enough power" to a Saiyan, of course. But this is about The Legend. 

Raditz represents a carelessness that Vegeta feels he can't afford to have. 

Nappa knows Vegeta can and will ascend. As to why he didn't do it when Frieza tortured him is a mystery. 

Nappa lost faith in the Gods years ago, and doubted their existence. Dying brings a lot of truths to light, though; there are many Gods.

He still feels that the Gods quit paying child support on the Saiyans when the Colds found them. These Earthlings, though, are an oddly blessed people. A chosen people, almost. 

It seems to Nappa that the Gods have rejected Vegeta. It pains him, honestly. Vegeta works hard, and that hard work always gets thrown back in his face. 

Raditz has his own problems, too.

Yeah, they're not his kids— never claimed they were. Still, he's protective. They've become good Saiyans.

Nappa sighs as he watches Raditz gag and spit out blood from another knee to the gut.

Well, that one needs a bit more work to become a good Saiyan. He's still a decent Saiyan, though— just a bit dick-brained. But that's how the lower classes are. At least he shows 'em a good time, so he's not a total animal.

"I think he's about done," Nappa laughs. 

As in, 'please stop kicking the shit out of your adoptive brother, thanks'.

Vegeta looks up and levels Nappa with a glare he hasn't seen in a long time. 

Brat. Spoiled brat.

Nappa scolds himself for the thought. 

"Eh. You know he can't take it from you," Nappa says. "You're too strong, 'specially now."

Vegeta gets a real cocky grin and kicks Raditz to the side of the GR like trash. He stares after Raditz with some weird kind of look that Nappa can't even begin to figure out.

Nappa often wonders what the hell he's gotten himself into. He wonders if Bulma really intends for extra help against the androids, or if she just wants extra help with Vegeta.

This Bulma chick's mouth says one thing, but her actions do another. She says all sorts of nasty things to Vegeta, but she's spoiling the hell out of him— giving him a taste of the royal life that was taken from him when he was five. 

Nappa doesn't want to admit it, but Vegeta seems to be reverting into that five year old brat.

"You think you can challenge me?" Vegeta laughs.

Nappa shakes his head. "Not a chance. But I ain't a quitter."

A bark of laughter is all the warning he gets before a fist smashes into his face.

The hit is harder than usual. 

Whatever Vegeta's problem is, it looks like he's gonna make it everyone's problem, too.

Chapter Text

You rush out of the house toward the waiting hover plane. Flinging the door open, you quickly slide into your seat, and close the door behind you. 

"Oh no!" Bulma says. "You didn't have to run. Sorry! I should have let you know it was no rush."

You exhale and buckle yourself in. 

You're more flushed from having just had sex than rushing out of the house. 

"It's fine," you say. "No worries."

Up in the driver's seat, you hear Yamcha chuckle. 

"It's kinda' my fault," he says. "Sorry. I'm always late."

He turns to you with a big smile.

"I'm Yamcha," he says. "It's great to meet you! You've gotta' be pretty cool if Bulma's telling you about all the stuff going on."

You laugh and shake his hand. 

"I dunno about cool, but I'll take it." 

Yamcha has a megawatt smile, and even though he's sitting down, you can tell that he's tall and athletic. 

In fact, his smile and glimmering dark eyes are so friendly and handsome that you notice the scars on his face as an afterthought— not that they are any detraction from his appearance. 

He flips a few switches and puts the plane into gear. 

"Alright, ladies," he says. "I'm more than happy to drive. Get as merry back there as you like."

Oh yeah. Yamcha has a celebrity persona.

You decide to let loose a little, but not so much to make a bad first impression. Bulma, however, seems to have no inhibitions. 

It tracks with how she is, so you're not too surprised. 

As you drink, Bulma is loudly adamant that she and Yamcha will keep you safe from Roshi. You wonder why they're friends with such a creep, but maybe it's not that bad. 

When the conversation hits a lull, you think about Raditz and wonder how his training is going. You don't really know what the training entails, to be honest. You suspect, however, that it might be unpleasant, given how much the other guys pick on him. 

An occasional glance out the window reveals that you're out over open ocean. In fact, most of the trip has been over ocean.

The plane starts descending, and you're still over nothing but water. As soon as you're about to voice your concerns, however, you notice a dot of an island beneath the plane. 

The island doesn't get too much bigger as the plane descends, then, eventually, lands. The island seems dangerously small; the modest, pink house in the center takes up most of the land. There is nothing on the horizon, except for the empty expanse of ocean. A rogue wave could easily take the entire island out. 

Well, you're sure that there's something in place for that. 

There's nobody around outside, but as you open the plane door, you realize why, immediately; a brutal wave of tropical heat hits you. There isn't even a breeze off of the ocean. 

Bulma walks around the plane to meet up with you. With everyone out, Yamcha encapsulates the plane with a whistle. 

"Whew," he says. "Haven't had weather like this here in a long time."

Bulma nods. "I'm glad we gave him those window units"

Yamcha takes you both in arm like an old-fashioned escort. Bulma rolls her eyes, but still gives him her arm. The three of you link arms and make your way to the house. 

Yamcha opens the door and ushers you into the house, with a loud, "we're here!"

A chorus of cheerful greetings ring out in the small house.

"Hey everyone!" Bulma smiles. "I want you to meet my friend. She's an honorary one of us, now."

You chuckle and introduce yourself. You're flattered that Bulma counts you as 'one of us'. This is some CIA level shit. 

It's probably more than that, to be honest. You now have faces to put to the names Bulma shares. 

After a few minutes, you get a sense of the group:

Oolong does indeed complain a lot. Puar is a cheerful ray of sunshine. Launch is really sweet and helpful; at least, her blue version is. She hasn't sneezed yet. Krillin is really nice and has an infectious laugh that makes everyone smile. 

Roshi is, unfortunately, exactly as described. Once you're left to your own devices —so much for protection— he makes his move.

Roshi quickly sidles up to you with a drink in his hand. Giving him a tense smile, you take the drink, but don't take so much as a sip. 

"I'd love to get to know you even better, young Miss," he chuckles. 

You are absolutely not going to drink whatever he's handed to you. You don't know if he's "that type" and you don't want to find out.

"Yeah," you grimace. "Bulma's told me a lot about you."

Roshi sighs. "Ah, I hope she's been fair." 

You give him a smile that you hope doesn't come off too fake. 

"I'm sure she has," you say. "She says you've trained the world's best fighters." 

He blushes and fidgets in place. "Ah, well, I do my best."

Shit. Attempting to make small talk appears to be backfiring.

There's a trickling sensation between your legs. You try to act casual as Roshi keeps talking about— something; you're really not sure because you're preoccupied.

Whenever they gave advice, none of your friends mentioned this as a possibility. Then again, you're positive none of your friends were or are rawdogging an alien. 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom as soon as possible.

After closing the door and locking it, you sit on the toilet and hurry to assess the damage. 

Thank God you decided to wear a panty liner. What goes in, must come out, at some point. 

You remove the messy one, wrap it up, and throw it in the trash. The bathroom is going to smell like jizz, to more sensitive noses. Thankfully, a pervert lives here, so it's a safe course of action.

Problem solved. The end.

You change liners, wash up, and exit the bathroom. 

In the time that you've been in the bathroom, two new people have shown up. By process of elimination, this must be Goku and Gohan. 

They're caught up in talking to Bulma and Yamcha, and you think they might not notice you.

Goku is an average height man, and his build is slim and athletic compared to his hulking brother. His spiky, shorter hair can best be described as "organized chaos". There isn't much about him that looks similar to Raditz, except for maybe the shape of their hands. 

Yamcha's smile is bright and friendly, but Goku—

When he smiles, it's almost like staring into the sun, comparatively. He can't be any more different than his brother. 

Raditz is like the moonlight. His soft light shows up at unexpected times, and it's easily obscured by dark clouds. 

You quickly chastise yourself for waxing poetic about your casual hookup. It's probably the alcohol and all the post-sex hormones making you so silly. 

Bulma quickly motions you over to them, and introduces you. Goku beams at you and waves, while Gohan —overdressed for the occasion— bows politely.

Gohan is the cutest little boy with his button-down shirt and pleated dress slacks. And his hair! His little bowl-cut hair! You're honestly shocked that Raditz ever found it in himself to be mean to him. 

Goku's smile falters for a second and his nose twitches. The look quickly disappears, however, and his smile is back. 

You hope the alcohol on your breath isn't too offensive. You're not blasted, but, still. 

"You must be a real good friend if Bulma's telling you everything," he says. "Then again, she's a loudmouth, so—"

Bulma stomps her foot. "You're the loudmouth!"

He shrinks in fear and takes a step back. Goku gives her a nervous smile. His hand goes to the back of his head. 

Yamcha chooses this moment to step in. 

"Hey! Do you need to sit at all?" He asks. 

You think about it for a second, then nod. 

"Probably not a bad idea," you say. 

Yamcha leads you over to the couch, where there's an empty space next to Krillin. 

"Hey is anyone sitting here?" He asks. 

Krillin looks embarrassed. "Uh, no."

"Cool," Yamcha chuckles. "Bulma's friend here needs to rest a minute. By the way, this is Krillin. He's a pretty good fighter and he's really cool." 

Yamcha isn't subtle at all. You sit down next to Krillin and shake hands. Though you've had an informal introduction from earlier, you suppose this is meant to be more "official" or something.

"So— uh— are you doing ok?" Krillin asks. "N—not that I'm prying or anything. But if you wanted to talk about it— but if not I totally respect that."

Bless him; he's trying. You appreciate when people try to bridge the gap and don't try to ignore your health. As long as they're not being a total ass, you really don't mind.

"It's fine," you chuckle. "I'm totally open about my health. I'm feeling pretty good today. You were not offensive at all. It's honestly nice when people are considerate."

"Oh, good!" He says. "I was afraid I was being a jerk or something."

"Oh, no, definitely not. You're fine."

Krillin sighs in relief.  

You eventually find yourself two drinks deep, sitting on the couch next to Krillin. From the drinks Yamcha passes to you both, and from his obvious move to make sure you're sitting next to each other, he's hoping for a connection between you two.

There is indeed a connection with Krillin: you've been calling each other 'dude' and 'bro' so much that you seem like old pals. He's a cool guy, and you definitely want to exchange some kind of contact info with him. 

Yamcha is trying really hard for Krillin, perhaps, too hard. He reminds you a lot of a Labrador, in terms of friendliness. You definitely see what Bulma saw in him, all those years ago.

You also see how much of a mismatch they are. Yamcha is so easygoing that you imagine he can easily get emotionally steamrolled in social situations.

And, while he doesn't seem dumb, he's also not brilliant. He's perfectly average in intelligence. 

Bulma is too much woman for him. At a minimum, she needs a man who's gonna fight back. 

Yamcha comes by once again and hands you both a drink, then finds his way back to Goku. 

"Subtle as a tank, Yamcha," Krillin murmurs. 

You snicker and take a sip of your drink. 

"Do your friends put you next to every single person, too?" He asks. 

You shake your head. "Not until just now, I guess."

Krillin laughs. "I'm at the point where I'm just gonna see if I just hit it off with someone."

"Same, dude," you sigh. 

You wonder if you're brewing up a catastrophe, at the moment. As long as you don't start confusing sexual chemistry for feelings, you think you'll be fine.

Gohan walks up to you two and sits on the floor close to the couch. 

"How's the training going, Krillin?" He asks. 

"Oh, I think it's going well so far," he says. "I'm way faster than before. I'm not a Super Saiyan, but I'm going to do the best with whatever I've got. How's yours going? I can tell you've gotten a lot stronger."

Stronger. Hm. Is that "energy" thing they talk about? You want to experience it, somehow. 

"It's going great!" Gohan smiles. "I get to train with Dad and Mr. Piccolo. Mom still has me studying, though."

Krillin nods. "Well, the body-mind connection is very important! I bet you're sleeping well with all that hard work."

Gohan bites his lip and looks down at the floor. 

"Most of the time, yeah," he says. 

Krillin gives him a sad smile. "Namek?"

Gohan nods. 

"I know, buddy," Krillin sighs. "It's great that everything got set right, but it hurt a lot to get there. If you ever want to talk about it, though I'm here to listen."

Bulma doesn't talk a lot about Namek. The most of what you know is that Piccolo —not present at the party— is from there, and a lot of bad stuff happened when they tried to get the Dragon Balls there. 

That Frieza guy was there, and that's enough for you to know the whole thing was godawful.

Gohan is eight. An eight year old shouldn't be in the middle of a war zone, let alone as one of the soldiers in it. The thought that he is training again to fight in yet another warzone bothers you. 

This is normal to this group. 

Child soldiers are not normal. They should not be normal. None of this should be normal. 

You take a sip of your drink, and keep your opinion to yourself. 

Glancing down, you notice Gohan giving you an odd look. 

"Excuse me, Miss," he says. "Why do you smell so much like my Uncle?" 

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach as everyone turns to look at you. 

Well, now you've got some explaining to do. Your face heats up, and you know that there's no good way out of this. 

You sigh and close your eyes. At least you've had a a little bit of alcohol before getting asked that question. You mind it just a little less than you would otherwise.

"He gave me a hug," you answer.

An unbidden memory of your reflection in the bathroom mirror as Raditz rutted into you comes to your mind. It was actually a hug, so you're not technically lying. 

"He musta' hugged you a long time, then," Gohan says. "You smell really strongly like him."

The hug in question was shorter than you would have liked, but it fit in the amount of time available.

You glance around to see the incredulous looks on everyone's' faces. Even the eight year old before you seems skeptical of your asinine answer. 

Bulma gives you a cheeky look and sashays across the living room to where you sit. 

"Hugging, eh?" she giggles. "When did this happen?"

You think about the amount of sex you've had in less than twenty-four hours and can't come up with a quick answer. It might be quicker to share when it didn't happen.

"I didn't hear anything happen," she muses. "That's not a good sign."

You sigh. You don't want to throw yourself under the proverbial bus, but the poor guy already has enough to deal with. The last thing he needs are accusations of being a cad and a terrible lay. 

You take a swig of your drink and steel yourself. 

"I've gotten several pats on the back."

Bulma gives you a conspiratorial grin. 

"Yes, I expect an interrogation on the way back," you sigh.

Her grin somehow grows even bigger. This is the kind of thing that Bulma lives for. 

Goku furrows his brows in confusion. Wincing, Yamcha leans over to whisper in his ear. 

You watch an entire spectrum of emotions flash across Goku's face, starting with shock, and ending with the same look of confusion with which he started.

"And he's treated you nice?" he asks. 

You nod. "He's very considerate of my pain condition."

Goku crosses his arms. He's deep in thought.

"Explains why his power level has been going a little nuts," he murmurs. "And the smell."

Oh, God. The alcohol isn't what had Goku wrinkling his nose.

Gohan gives you a thoughtful look. "So, are you boyfriend and girlfriend, since you're hugging so much?"

You grimace. All you're truly certain of is that your bodies are so responsive to one another that you practically vibrate with resonance at the slightest touch. 

"Nah, they just met two days ago," Bulma says. 

Everyone stares at you in shock, and you sigh. 

"Thanks, Bulma," you grumble. "Now everyone will think I've got cooties."

She gives you a sheepish grin and you sigh. You need to nip this in the bud before shit gets out of control.

"That was my first hug from a boy," you frown. "Don't get any ideas, Roshi."

Roshi's face turns red and he puts his hands up in mock defense. 

"You got with him, so I ain't messin' around," he says. 

Then, in a quiet mumble:

"Guy broke my damn house last time he was here."

Thankfully, Goku intervenes. 

"Well, whatever you guys do is your business," he says. "But if he does anything to you, all you need to do is ask and I'll take care of him."

The seriousness in his gaze is so intense that you feel anxious for Raditz' safety. 

Krillin sighs. "Well, so long as you're safe. I can sense that he's getting a lot stronger, but he's not as strong as any of us— not yet, anyway."

You stare down at your drink in thought. 

"Vegeta and Nappa aren't really nice to him," you say. 

"Are they nice to anyone?" Krillin asks. 

You think about it for a moment and shrug. 

"They seem to go out of their way to pick on him," you answer. "Sounds like a bunch of classist nonsense, to me."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Yeah, sounds about right. They like to go on about that."

Gohan gives you a bashful look, then leans in.

"Miss, I don't want to embarrass you," he murmurs, "but I think you've been doing more than hugging my Uncle. Did you— did you kiss him?"

Gohan has already thoroughly embarrassed you, bless him. His innocence is so sweet that you have to hold back a laugh. You give him a conspiratorial grin and lean in.

"Yes, but shhhh."

Gohan gasps. "I knew it! You are boyfriend and girlfriend."

You decide to leave it be, rather than correct him. You're not about to explain the nuances of hooking up to someone's eight year old child. 

"We'll leave it at that," you sigh. 

Krillin chuckles next to you. "Bulma's not going to leave it at that."

"Of course not," you grumble. 

Bulma waggles her eyebrows at you as she takes another sip of her drink. 

"He must not be one of the bad guys anymore," Gohan says. "Bad guys are mean to girls." 

You hope so. 

"That is true," Krillin days. "Yamcha and Tien are good guys now."

Bulma snorts and waves her hand in dismissal. 

"I domesticated Yamcha, thank you very much," she says. 

Yamcha laughs. "You did. I learned all about skincare and looking nice. I was filthy when you picked me up." 

"Well, you were a quick study," she says. 

Eventually, the topic drifts away from your indiscretion, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

That was an unexpected and very uncomfortable way for you to talk to Bulma about your hookup. Thankfully, everyone stays away from the topic for the rest of the party.

Still, you wish you could be doing something —or someone— else right now.

Chi-Chi doesn't like when Goku goes to see his friends; bad things almost always happen when he's gone. 

The two higher power levels hiding out in the woods right next to their house don't surprise her, but she's frightened all the same. Well, she's frightened and angry, to be honest. This is getting ridiculous. 

Chi-Chi finishes folding the shirt in her hands, and places it in the laundry basket with a scowl. 

"I can sense you over there!" She shouts. "You'd better come out and explain yourselves. Don't make me get my husband!"

She turns and stares at the line of trees just beyond their yard and waits with her hands on her hips. 

One of them is much stronger than her. The other, she thinks she might be able to take in a fight. They don't feel hostile, but she doesn't trust anything. 

Slowly, the trespassers approach. Their completely silent footsteps make her grateful that she can sense energy.

Chi-Chi's stomach twists when a man who looks almost exactly like her husband steps out of the woods. He wears Saiyan armor and one of those scouters that Frieza's men all had. There's a huge scar on his cheek, and he's got the look of a man who has seen too much. 

The other one hangs back. Chi-Chi isn't going to let someone wait in the shadows. 

"I meant both of you!" She calls. "I can sense you both."

The mysterious Saiyan turns and motions to the person in the woods. 

A woman steps out into the clearing. She's short and delicate, and if she didn't have shaggy, black hair, or the armor, Chi-Chi would have never guessed her for a Saiyan. Her soft face and big, doe eyes are out of place on such a notoriously cruel people. The woman is fit, but she's not covered in muscle like the rest of them.

Chi-Chi glances to the waists of both strangers and frowns. 

Okay, they have their tails, too. 

"What do you want?" Chi-Chi scowls. 

The man puts his hands up in an appeasing gesture and she immediately goes on guard. For all she knows, he's getting ready to blast her. 

"We're lost," the man says. "My scouter says that the most powerful person on the planet lives here. Is that true?"

Her frown deepens. 

Chi-Chi doesn't like this. The only thing keeping her from starting a fight is the small woman next to this lookalike. She looks kind, and that's saying something, given that Chi-Chi is suspicious of everyone. 

"What do you want with him?" She asks. "The last time a Saiyan showed up, he looked almost exactly like you —and my husband— and he tried to destroy the planet. So you're on thin ice, mister."

He sighs. "I understand our bad reputation. My name is Bardock, and this is my wife, Gine. I have a very common look. You'll find a lot of lower class Saiyans look like they could be related."

Chi-Chi narrows her eyes. "We don't do that 'class' stuff here. Everyone is given an equal chance to be their best. And we do not tolerate bad behavior."

He seems to relax a little after hearing this information. 

"We don't mean any harm," he says. "We honestly don't know where we are or how we got here. But, you say your husband is a Saiyan? He's the strongest on the planet?"

She can't help but grin. 

"My Goku is the best," she crows. "He's a Super Saiyan, too— all that golden hair and whatnot."

Bardock and Gine both gasp. 

Bardock removes his scouter, presses a button and tosses it far to the side. 

Chi-Chi watches it in suspicion; she doesn't know what that thing does, beyond reading power levels. It could have a grenade mode, for all she knows.

"Have you heard of a man named Frieza?" Bardock asks. 

Chi-Chi is beaming, now. 

"Him?" She says. "The evil space Emperor with an army of slaves? My Goku killed him."

They both gasp in shock. Gine bursts into tears and clings to her husband. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and does his best to comfort her. 

"I'm free?" He asks, his voice hoarse. 

"Yes." Chi-Chi says. 

She swears his eyes get a bit misty for a second. 

"We've got to find our sons," Gine says. "Oh, we can finally be a real family. Frieza took my sweet five year old boy. I'm afraid of what's happened to him. He's so sensitive and caring."

Bardock gets a sad look on his face. 

"They probably slapped the crying right out of him," he says. 

Gine lets out a choked sob and tries to reel her emotions back in. 

Chi-Chi bites her lip.  She can't imagine hitting a child for having feelings. That poor boy. 

"Alright," Chi-Chi sighs. "I can tell that neither of you are trouble. So you're welcome to wait here until my husband gets back, since you said you have business with him."

They both visibly relax. Maybe, these Saiyans are refugees. 

"We were hoping to talk to whoever is in charge on this planet," Bardock says. "That's generally what one does when stranded. We figured the strongest is in charge."

Chi-Chi laughs. 

"If my husband was in charge, we wouldn't be so poor."

Bardock nods slowly. "Are any of the other powerful fighters in charge?"

She shakes her head. "Nope. Most of them are quiet, behind-the-scenes peace keepers. Technically, our planet hasn't made first contact with aliens, yet. What the public doesn't know keeps them from panicking, I guess."

"So, you're not spacefaring," Bardock says. 

Chi-Chi goes back to removing clothing from the clothesline and shakes her head. 

"Technically, no," she says. "But there is someone who has managed to build a ship capable of going pretty far out there. Don't even think of trying to steal it, though; the owners are not to be messed with, to put it lightly."

Chi-Chi can't imagine someone trying to steal Vegeta's precious Gravity Room. They'd be dead before stepping foot in the thing. 

Gine walks over to the clothes line, unpins a shirt, and starts to try to fold it. Frowning, Chi-Chi takes the shirt from her hands. 

"I will not let guests do chores at my house," she says. "You should try to relax. It seems like you've been through a lot."

Gine gives her a sad smile. Still, Chi-Chi can tell that she's itching to help. 

She's definitely a mom. Chi-Chi can't be idle, either. Still, it's rude to have a guest do chores, and she won't allow it. 

"What planet is this?" Gine asks. "Goku isn't a Saiyan name."

Chi-Chi folds the shirt in her hands, and places it in the basket. 

"We call our planet "Earth"," she says. "Goku was sent here as a baby to destroy the planet. An old man named Gohan found him, and adopted him. Apparently, Goku was a devil of a child until he hit his head really bad."

Bardock shakes his head. "The purge babies were part of Frieza's policy. They started destroying us by destroying our families."

Gine is crying again. 

"We had a bad feeling about Frieza," she says. "We stole a ship and sent our youngest very far away. He would have been one of those babies if we hadn't." 

Chi-Chi feels her eyes mist up, and quickly dabs away the tears.  These are good people. She's so relieved that they're not like all the other Saiyans who have landed here.

"We've got to try to find Kakarot," Bardock says. 

Chi-Chi freezes. 

"That's what my husband's Saiyan name was," she says. 

Gine gasps and Bardock shakes his head. 

"A common name," he says. "We learned our mistake with naming our firstborn Raditz."

Chi-Chi stops cold and stares at them with wide eyes. 

"Is that a common name?" She asks. 

"Nope," he says. "Poor kid gets teased all the time. It's bad enough that he's a runty little kid."

Chi-Chi's hands tremble. She sets the shirt she's holding down, before she can drop it on the ground. 

"My Goku has an older brother named Raditz," she says.

Bardock shakes his head. "I'm only twenty five. Raditz is five. He was sent to be part of Prince Vegeta's squad. The Prince is also five. It's just not possible."

The cold truth settles on her as she realizes exactly who these Saiyans are. The thought gives her chills. 

"Vegeta is in his thirties," she says. "He's here, on this planet. Second strongest."

Bardock and Gine share a confused look. 

"That can't be possible," he says.

Chi-Chi nods. "It definitely is. We have a dragon deity on this planet, who will grant almost any wish, once you gather his summoning items. A friend of ours gathered them a little while ago and made a wish for some Saiyans to come back to life. Something must have happened, then. Do you remember anything?"

Gine looks lost in thought for a moment, then shrieks. 

"I'm dead! I saw it headed right toward the planet. Nobody could survive that!"

She's shaking and crying even harder than before. Bardock wraps his arm around her and purses his lips. 

"I remember that, too," he says. "I do remember something about a dragon, but not much. A big, serpent of a dragon. He was a God of some sort."

Gine sniffles. "Yes, a dragon. He was scary but he wasn't mean."

There's no doubt about it. Bulma's wish for the dead Saiyans to come back to life to help fight the androids must have done something to bring Goku's parents back to life on Earth. 

Perhaps, Shenron knows something that they do not. Bringing Goku's parents back to life definitely isn't part of Bulma's big plan. He does work in mysterious ways, sometimes.

"That dragon is named Shenron," Chi-Chi says. "Like I said, a friend of ours wished for the revival of Saiyans to help us fight some androids who are supposed to appear in the future."

Bardock goes over to his scouter, puts it on, and presses a few buttons. As he makes his way back to them, a bunch of text flashes across the screen. He turns to Gine in shock. 

"The date," he says. "If Prince Vegeta is in his thirties, then the date on my scouter is correct. We did die, and now we're alive many years later."

Gine is still crying, but her look of terror has changed to joy. 

"Then this is our Kakarot," she says. 

Bardock looks dazed. "My son; the legendary Super Saiyan. And he freed the galaxy from Frieza."

Before Chi-Chi can react, Gine has launched herself into her arms and gives her a big hug. 

"My son married well!" She cries. "Oh, I'm so happy. You're smart, reasonable, and kind."

Chi-Chi would not use those words to describe herself in a million years. It's one of the sweetest things someone has ever said to her.

She feels her eyes misting up again as she realizes that Goku was sent to Earth for his safety, not to destroy it. Even if he hadn't hit his head, he probably still would have been a good man. 

Chi-Chi returns her hug, then steps back. 

"Well, this is one of the only times that something good has happened while my husband has been visiting friends," she says. 

She snags the last shirt off of the clothes line and quickly folds it.

For once, Chi-Chi doesn't find herself counting the minutes for her husband to return. She spends the time that he's gone in pleasant conversation with her newfound in-laws.

Everything happens for a reason. Chi-Chi believes this with all her heart. It keeps her sane when things go sideways. 

Goku's parents are a wonderful couple. Chi-Chi can't wait for Goku and Gohan to get back from the party at Kame house so they can meet them. 

A few words with them will ease so much of Goku's pain. 

And he is in pain. He feels so wounded about being abandoned in the woods. He feels tremendous pain from what Raditz has said. 

None of it is true. Goku is deeply loved by his parents. He takes after his sweet mother in many ways. 

Gine absolutely loves that she's a twenty-four year old Grandma. She loves children. She—

She talks a lot about Raditz and cries easily out of the intensity of her love for her boy. Chi-Chi doesn't have the heart to tell her about how he's turned out. 

She feels positively sick when she hears about the little boy who chases bugs out in the yard, cries easily, helps his mother at the butcher shop, says "I love you, Mama" all the time, and insists on holding her hand. She wonders if Vegeta has a similar story. 

That damned Frieza! Chi-Chi hopes that hell repays him tenfold for turning little boys into monsters. 

Raditz still has made all his own decisions. The fact that he knows and understands love from his parents makes him even worse. Chi-Chi will not forgive that man. She will, however, feel pain for that little boy. She's already mourning his loss. 

Eventually, Chi-Chi senses Goku and Gohan leaving the party. She waits in eager anticipation as they draw closer, and, after a while, turns her gaze to the sky. 

The two specks on the distant horizon grow bigger, until she can make out their details. When they land, Goku immediately turns a wary eye toward his parents. 

Before Chi-Chi even has the time to explain, Gohan runs across the grass toward her.

"Mom!" Gohan yells. "I'm going to get a cousin!"

Chi-Chi nearly drops the basket of folded laundry in her hands and Goku winces.

"Not exactly," he says. "But, knowing what I do about some stuff, probably."

Gohan fidgets in impatience as she sets the basket down. As soon as it is out of her hands, he hugs her tightly.

It's not in her this time to scold him for being rude to company. She's just glad to have him here; fate has been so kind to her family, and she's especially aware of this, after talking to her in-laws.

Gine launches herself into Goku's arms without a second thought. Goku quickly holds his hands up and away from her, then turns to Chi-Chi with an apologetic look. 

Oh, she supposes it does look bad. Chi-Chi is pleasantly surprised that such a thing has occurred to him.

Gine is already sobbing. Bardock stares at him in awe. 

Yes, Goku looks sweet. And, he is sweet. But he is strong and fearsome when innocent people are in harm's way. Hopefully they don't have to see that part of him.

Gine is saying all sorts of stuff, probably in Saiyan, since Chi-Chi can't understand any of it, except for the word "Kakarot". 

Well, she figures that the polite thing to do is to introduce them, right?

"Goku, these are your parents," she says. 

"What?!" 

Goku's jaw drops in shock. 

Gohan turns from where his face is buried against Chi-Chi's stomach and stares at his Grandparents in awe. 

"You smell almost the same," Gine cries. "You smell almost exactly the same, my baby."

Bardock steps forward with a concerned look on his face. 

"We heard that you believed you were a purge baby," he says. "To any outside observer, it would look like that. But, we stole a pod and sent you away on purpose. We had a bad feeling about Frieza's order for all Saiyans to return home. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you felt that pain for so many years."

Goku looks like he's forgotten how to breathe. His eyes are tearing up. Chi-Chi rarely sees him feeling moved in this way. 

Finally, Gine takes a step back and wipes at her eyes. 

"You were wanted," she says. "We planned you and wanted you. Oh, Raditz wanted to hold you so badly when you were in your tank. He cried when I had to tell him no. He sat next to the tank whenever he could and talked to you and sang you lullabies when you got restless. And together, we—"

She thankfully dissolves into tears again before she can talk more about Raditz. 

Her words, however, are what finally break him. Goku hiccups and the tears spill down his cheeks. 

Chi-Chi is crying, too. 

Bardock walks over, sniffs back his tears, and wraps an awkward arm around Goku. 

"I wish we could thank the man who raised you," he says. "Without even knowing it, he raised you in our way: the way of fighting."

Goku is trying not to cry as hard and as loud as his mother. 

He needs it, though. He needs to cry this out because it is a lot to take in at once. 

A new pain is probably taking the place of the old pain. And, Chi-Chi will be there for him as he goes through it. 

Sensing that she has a moment, Chi-Chi kneels down to quietly talk to Gohan. 

"I heard you say something about a cousin," she murmurs. "What's going on?"

Gohan turns to her and giggles. 

"Miss Bulma's friend is Uncle's girlfriend," he says. "He can't be a bad guy anymore; bad guys aren't nice to girls, after all."

Chi-Chi shushes him so he will keep his volume down.

"Let's not tell your Grandparents, just yet," she says. "They went to Otherworld when your Uncle was five, and they have no idea he's a bad guy. Your Dad and I will talk to them about it when things have settled down, some. But, please keep it a secret that he's got a girlfriend and you're getting a cousin, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Chi-Chi says.

"I don't think he's a bad guy anymore, though," Gohan insists. "Bad guys are mean to girls. Bulma's friend seems happy. They're hugging a lot and she— um."

Chi-Chi gives him her best "Mom" look and he caves immediately.

"I was nosy," he whispers. "I'm sorry, Mom. I asked her if she kissed him, and she said yes, but to keep it secret. And I just told her secret. Gosh, I did a very bad thing."

Oh, no. What a mess. She needs to talk to Goku about this because it sounds like bad news. They have some decisions to make, immediately.

"Telling secrets is okay if it's a secret that can get someone hurt," Chi-Chi says. "Bad guys can absolutely be nice to girls. They do it so they can get as many kisses as they want."

His face falls, and a quiet "oh" comes out of his mouth.

"Even smart girls can fall for it," she says. "I hate to tell you that, honey. But it is a good thing to know. With that knowledge, you might be able to help a friend someday, even."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you. I love you, Gohan."

"I love you too, Mommy."

She wraps her arms around Gohan and turns her attention back to Goku and his parents. 

"Normally, I would," Goku says. "But it's such an intense state to be in. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, right now. I'm feeling a bit intense, yanno?"

They both nod slowly. It doesn't seem like they understand.

Are they asking to see the Super Saiyan form? 

Chi-Chi hates it. She says it's because of the blond hair.

The truth is that it makes her sweet husband look like an angry monster. She's frightened of it. Everyone says it's so amazing, but, all she can think of is how badly Goku had to break in order to do it.

No. She doesn't like Super Saiyan one bit.

"But it definitely happened," Goku chuckles. "Vegeta is um— upset, I guess, that it wasn't him. But ah, he's such a good fighter. He absolutely kicked my butt the first time we fought. In fact—"

"Honey," Chi-Chi calls, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but they have to meet Gohan too."

He blinks and shakes his head. Thank goodness she's caught him before he can continue on about Vegeta. 

Chi-Chi gently nudges Gohan to give him the go-ahead to introduce himself. He eagerly runs up to them, remembers his manners at the last second, and stops to bow in greeting, 

Oh, good. What a proper young man! 

She sighs as she watches her Gohan give his Grandma a hug. He talks excitedly about the river and all the fun he has with his Father down there. 

They're listening intently like they're used to it, and it hits her that yes, they are. 

They have —had— a five year old until just recently. 

Goku looks less dazed, now. He turns to Chi-Chi and gives her one of his heart stopping smiles. 

Goodness, he's so handsome. 

She quickly shakes her head and motions Goku to come over. As he makes his way across the grass, she fixes him with a stern gaze. 

He seems worried when he stops in front of her. 

"You haven't done anything wrong," Chi-Chi murmurs. "What's this about a cousin?"

He nervously rubs the back of his head. "Bulma's friend is uh— seeing him, I guess. What's got you upset?"

"Lots of things," Chi-Chi says. "Was Bulma aware of this?"

"Not until today."

"Is she really pregnant?" 

"Not right now," he says. "But, from what I was smelling, it's only a matter of time before it happens."

It's her turn to be shocked.

"You can smell that?" she asks.

"You cant?"

"What exactly do you smell?" she asks. 

His face flushes, and Chi-Chi is almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Humans can't smell it," he says. "Wow. Um. Well, she smelled nice, like you do sometimes. Like, extra nice. But uh, I could smell stuff from Raditz, so—"

He cringes and trails off. 

"I thought it was normal to be able to smell all of that," he says. "I guess I know a lot of private stuff about people that they thought was private."

Chi-Chi nods slowly. 

"Aw, man," Goku grumbles. "I smelled his— ew."

Chi-Chi exhales. That does sound awful. Well, it's at least good that Bulma knows about it, now.

Goku's expression turns serious.

"Listen," he says, "she said that he treats her well. But I warned her that he's dangerous. And I told her that I can keep her safe if she needs help."

"Fine. But why did you let this stranger talk to our child about sex?"

His eyes get huge. 

"Oh, no, not like that," he says. "She really said they were hugging, when Gohan asked why she smelled so much like his Uncle. He thinks they're boyfriend and girlfriend, even though they just met two days ago. I honestly don't know where he got the baby idea from. But, from what I was smelling, it's only a matter of time before it happens."

Chi-Chi sighs. "I'll give that woman some credit; calling it a hug was exactly what I would have wanted Gohan to hear. This is still not great, though."

Chi-Chi is old-fashioned, but she's fine with someone else living their life differently. 

However, Bulma's friend picked a horrible man to have a one night stand with. She hopes that Bulma sets this right, before this woman gets hurt. 

And if she gets pregnant? Chi-Chi doesn't want Raditz anywhere near her family and will not let him get there through his mistress. She hopes to any and all Gods that the boy from the future isn't Raditz' son. But, based on what Goku has shared, he probably is.

She hasn't seen Raditz and doesn't plan to. She wants to imagine a long-haired, smelly caveman. Chi-Chi doesn't want to see anything in him that reminds her of her sweet Goku.

"Listen," she says. "I know you're very nice and forgiving, but I do not want that man anywhere near my family."

A dark look crosses his face, and Chi-Chi swears that his eyes turn green for a second. 

"I agree," he says. 

Chi-Chi glances over at Gohan, who is excitedly showing his Grandparents something near the big tree to the side of the house. 

"Once things settle down a little," she says, "we should tell them what happened. Maybe, tomorrow morning. The sooner the better, in my opinion."

Goku sighs and nods. 

"Mom's gonna cry," he says. "Hate to do it."

Chi-Chi puts her hand on top of Goku's as a sad smile works its way across her face. 

"She's always crying, but, yeah. It's gonna be a very bad cry."

Gine talks about her sweet, five year old boy with the starry-eyed look of a proud mother. Raditz is the world, to her. 

Chi-Chi understands; Gohan is her world. 

That's why this discussion is important. 

That monster cannot be allowed anywhere close to Gohan.

Chapter Text

u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien

Update 3:
So, I know Reddit loves updates. Turns out that I didn't need to make any decisions. Last night she walked up to me in the hall and literally said "hey I'm a virgin and I was wondering if you'd want to help me change that". 

Shit you not. Definitely a virgin: clumsy and a little shy. Vocal though so she helped me help her. Had a great time. Can't get enough of her tbh. Tonight's gonna be fun

Question for human passing anthros: what the fuck do you do when they smell really good? Like, really really good? afaik she's full human

my people don't go into heat but fuckin hell I feel possessed. Was orphaned at 5 so I dont know much. (Tail in photos is an ape tail, not a cat tail)

incidentally that's where the username comes from. I'm just some weirdo fuckin alien out in the ether, the last 4 of my kind. No females left. Man who raised us is a military man, not a teacher so we don't know shit

u/blkc4t
I don't know a lot of ape anthros, but there is a big community of human passing anthros (HPA) here on reddit. You are absolutely welcome with us! I myself am 1/8 pantera and even that small amount makes a difference.

Just from my experience: she's probably ovulating. Be really careful about protection because this is her fertile window. If youre like me, you might get the urge to bite. Have a pillow nearby for that, the firmer it is, the better it'll satisfy that urge. Even if you don't have big inscisors, a big bite from regular human teeth can be a mood killer.  Same goes for claws, if you have them (unclear from photo and they could be retracted)

u/grillagrip
^this

Also, since you're a big guy, be really careful when you handle her. My wife absolutely loves it when I'm feeling feral, but it can be really easy to hurt her if I'm not thinking. Even a somewhat hard thrust can be painful because I am far stronger than the average human, by default. Don't be afraid to say no or stop things if you're feeling out of control. She will appreciate you keeping her safety in mind, trust me

seems like you have a decent connection with this woman, even though it's a hookup. I wish you nothing but the best in discovering your inner ape. You deserve to get in touch with that part of your heritage.

u/munkybizniz
Has she come to terms with the copious amounts of semen, yet? Seems to be a thing for us HPAs. Watch out for overflowing condoms lmao

u/grillagrip
Christ I forgot about that. Had a vasectomy years ago. Yeah, make sure you're being extra careful u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien. Mixed anthros might have lower fertility rates, if they aren't sterile, but it's still a thing. Mixed apes tend to be much more compatible with full humans. Right now, you've got a recipe for an unintended pregnancy if it's possible, so be really careful

u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien
no worries about the pregnancy thing. she's been sterilized. some kind of health thing and surgery

u/grillagrip
Ah, okay. Fwiw i've heard those health things can be really painful so she has my utmost respect

u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien
she's fragile, but a whole different breed of strong. admirable 

u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien
Also I'm doing this weird fucking thing with my mouth? It's like I can taste the smell. Looks like I'm showing my fangs but I'm not and I can't control it

u/blkc4t
Sounds like a flehmen response. You sure you don't have any cat in you??? I'm surprised you haven't done it before. 

u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien
lmao naw. I swear I must be an alien finally fucking someone I'm biocompatible with. Shit's crazy.

u/blkc4t
regardless, enjoy yourself brother. That flehmen response can make sex really intense ;) You're learning all kinds of cool stuff about yourself. Feel free to swing by r/HumanPassingAnthros to chat! It's a great place for HPAs to connect and everyone is really friendly :)

u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien
Intense is right. I swear my soul has left by fucking body through my dick and not come back 🥵

u/harpSeecord
Day 3 of needing to know what's behind the note... For science 

u/explaintomelikeImAnAlien 
I should make an OF lmao

u/harpSeecord
Take my money 

You take your seat in the back of the hoverplane once again. Underneath the veneer of laughter and a few drinks, you feel a bit defeated. 

Sighing, you buckle your seatbelt. What a way to make a first impression.

Bulma leans over and wraps her arm around your shoulders.

"Why're you so sad?" she asks. 

You turn to give her a helpless look.

"It's okay!" Bulma insists. "I'm sure I've done way worse."

You snort. "Hi guys! Nice to meet you, and this super secret group of Earth's defense force. Just so you know, I'm fucking the guy who tried to kill you and slapped the little kid around. You know— the guy who brought all this shit to your front door."

Bulma purses her lips. "Okay, I haven't done worse than that. But I'm sure I will, at some point."

If she catches on to Vegeta's staring, she definitely will. As it stands, she seems oblivious. 

"Well," Yamcha says, "if it helps, keep in mind that I tried to rob Bulma and Goku, and that was how we met. Like, I was going to rob them and strand them in the desert."

You read between the lines on that: 

Yamcha was going to steal their shit and leave them to die. 

The hoverplane lifts off of the ground, and soon, you're over the ocean once again. 

Yamcha chuckles up in the cockpit. "I guess that kinda' stops that uh, setup, I guess, I was trying to do with you and Krillin. Coulda' sworn there was some kind of attraction when you shook hands and sat down, though."

"Nah," you say. "He was trying to be polite and thoughtful about my condition, and was worried that he was being rude. He wasn't, though. There is a connection, though!"

Bulma looks at you in shock, and you see Yamcha's gaze on you through the rear-view mirror. 

"We are bros," you say. "Dude's really cool. It was interesting to hear about his experience as someone living without a sense of smell."

Krilln doesn't think of his lack of a nose or sense of smell as a disability. It's his prerogative to identify however he likes. But you did reassure him that he is more than welcome in the community. 

If it has an effect on his life and has caused difficulty, then yes, it can be a disability. But, it's all up to him to call it one if he feels it is. 

"Well, that's something," Yamcha says. "Maybe it's better that he didn't have an attraction before Gohan pulled a Goku and just blabbed like that. It was shocking, to be honest."

You sigh and peer out the window at the endless ocean below the plane.

"Yeah," you say. "Yeah, it was."

Bulma leans over in her seat to look at you, and she gets your attention quickly. Her devious grin informs you that it's interrogation time. 

"Okay, I've got to know some stuff," Bulma says. "But, maybe the graphic details, later. We don't want Yamcha to need brain bleach."

"I appreciate that," Yamcha laughs. "But for anything you do talk about, my lips are sealed. I am merely the chauffeur."

He really does have a smile like a movie star. It's rather enchanting and it is hard to believe he was such a heartless person at one time. 

"First, the important part," Bulma says. "Did you have a good time?" 

You nod as you start fidgeting. Oh, you had a very good time. And, tonight, you're also going to have a good time.

"I still didn't hear anything," she muses. 

You snort and roll your eyes. "I'm shocked you didn't. I'm also shocked you don't have a hangover today."

Bulma turns her nose up in the air. 

"I could never be so weak," she scoffs. "Oh. Whose room needs the sheets changed?"

You purse your lips. "Mine. It's uh... quite a mess."

Up at the front of the plane, Yamcha clears his throat. 

"Just gonna have a brother moment here, then I'll butt out," he says. "Saiyans and humans can make hybrids—"

He trails off, as if he's not quite comfortable finishing the sentence. Still, you easily connect the dots. 

"Oh, it's fine," you say.  

Yamcha gives a nervous laugh. "Okay! Good to know. Sorry for cutting in. There's, uh— there's a word we call people who pull out: parents."

"No worries," you reply. "And I agree."

Bulma is busy on her phone for a moment, then puts it down and turns her attention back to you.

"I've got a work order in for the sheets to get changed," she says. "And a big ol sex blanket. The biggest sex blanket, since you're fucking a man the size of a small couch."

"Thanks," you squeak. 

Bulma narrows her eyes in thought, then bursts out in laughter.

"That's why you were late!" She gasps. "Was that when it happened?"

You wince. "Uh, one of the times, yeah. I kinda lied to you this morning. I barely slept last night. I was gonna tell you later today, but then, I got outed. God bless that innocent kid."

"So he stayed the night with you?"

"Yes."

Bulma nods in approval. 

"Good," she says. "So, how did this even come about?"

You shrug.

"To be honest, I just kinda asked him," you say.

She gives you an expectant look. She clearly wants details.

"Literally, I told him I was a virgin, and asked if he wanted to help change that."

Bulma shrieks and stomps her feet.

"Girl, yes!! You get that dick!"

"Don't let your wet dreams be dreams," you laugh.

You're proud of yourself, to be honest. You're still surprised that you went through with it. 

Bulma turns to you, and, in what you charitably label a "stage whisper" says:

"How big's his dick?"

You glance up to the front of the plane to see Yamcha's face getting red. 

Taking a sip of your drink, you prepare yourself to make the loudest stage whisper in your life.

"It's really big," you reply. "Like—"

You hold your hands out and give what you think are the correct dimensions.

"Dick size doesn't really matter too much," Bulma whispers. "But! It is a nice thing, though. That is a super big dick, by the way."

"Yeah," you whisper. "And it's a nice-looking dick. Very pleasing. But we should stop talking about this man's dick in front of Yamcha. I think he can hear the fake whispering."

Bulma huffs. "I was whispering for real!" 

"Um," Yamcha mumbles, "not quietly."

Bulma rolls her eyes. "Fine, no more attempts at dirty talk."

"Appreciated!"

You drum your fingers on your armrest in thought. 

"So, to share something not-graphic," you say, "it seems that Saiyans have a flehmen response."

"No way!"

Yamcha glances to the back of the plane. "What's that?"

Bulma scoots forward to lean against his seat. 

"It's that thing," she says.

Yamcha nods. "What thing?"

He clearly has a lot of practice interacting with Drunk Bulma.

"You know when a horse puts its lip up and smiles?" she asks.

"No."

"When a cat does that?" she asks.

"Also, no."

Bulma gives a dramatic grumble and reaches back for her phone. She sloppily taps across the screen and pulls up some images, then puts the phone right in front of Yamcha's face.

"Oh! That thing," he says. "Huh. I didn't know that was a thing other than animals being silly."

"No!" she grouses. "It means the animal smells something interesting.  They inhale through their mouth, and the air runs over a sensory organ. So they can detect sex pheromones and stuff."

Bulma flops back into her seat and puts her phone back down. 

"So, is this an all the time thing?" She asks. 

You shrug. "The first I saw of it was this afternoon."

"I still can't believe you were late because of a quickie," she giggles. "That's so naughty of you."

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. It is very unlike you to do something like this. Then again, having sex for the first time was what you wanted. 

So far, you're getting way, way more out of it than expected. That man is damn near addictive. 

"It is," you agree. "I'm a little concerned that we can't keep our hands off of each other."

"Well, you'll just have to come back," she says. "And yanno, I'm sure I could keep him some company while you're gone."

Jealousy boils up inside you, but you try to squash it. You're not in a relationship with this man. You're hooking up. 

Bulma cringes. 

"Oh God," she laughs. "I guess not, haha. You look pissed!"

You put your hand over your mouth as you feel your cheeks heating up. 

"I didn't mean to make that face out loud," you say.

Bulma and Yamcha both laugh. 

"Hey maybe if you can get him to chill out," Yamcha says, "maybe the other two will chill as well?"

You wince. "Nah. Vegeta and Nappa bully him all the time for being supposedly weak. If anything, this might make things worse for him."

He glances back at you through the rear-view mirror.

"That's gotta be tough," he says. "I get it though. I'm the weakest of the human fighters and it does hurt sometimes to be so— I dunno— stuck, I guess. But everyone's so nice to me. Sounds like the guy could use a friend."

Bulma laughs. "Just don't let any girls around him. My friend here will claw their damn eyes out."

Yamcha hunches over the wheel and gives a tittering laugh. 

"Well, jealousy is natural and all so, that's okay."

"Oh, so it's okay all of a sudden?" Bulma grumbles.

You don't know the full story between them, but you can see how Yamcha could get a lot of attention from women. 

And, after your reaction, you have no room to judge Bulma's jealousy. 

The rest of the way back to Capsule Corp, Bulma attempts to get dirty details from you. Somehow, she manages to be even less subtle than usual. 

You arrive around sunset. Thankfully, Bulma has switched to talking about her ideas for improving the GR. You don't really understand what she's talking about, but you're happy that she's quit asking about your new sex life in front of Yamcha. The guy is cool, but you just met him today. 

The three of you get off of the elevator as it stops at the residential floor. Yamcha loops his arm around Bulma's, perhaps out of habit. 

You step into the main room to see the Saiyans having a conversation. It looks like they've just finished dinner and are about to head back out to train.

You wish their positions were different; Vegeta and Nappa both face you, while Raditz stands with his back toward you. 

The silence and stares speak volumes, and you expect them to start talking shit any second. 

Raditz turns to the side a little so he can see what they're looking at. You notice that he doesn't completely turn his back toward them. Perhaps, it's respect. Maybe, it's self-preservation.

Nappa finally breaks out in a grin. 

"Holy shit!" he laughs. "You clean up real nice."

Okay. That's a better conversation starter than you expected. 

You shrug. "I know."

He blinks in shock at your bold reply, then laughs again. 

"Shoulda known you'd say something like that," he says. "Well, if you get bored of the kid, come find me."

Raditz glares at him for a split second. 

"I'm messin' with ya," Nappa says. "Don't be so serious."

Vegeta stands silent and watches. His gaze switches between you and Bulma. Maybe it's just the sunset coming through the windows, but you swear his cheeks are a little pink. 

The drinks have you feeling a little bold, and you are ready to defend yourself. In fact, you almost hope Nappa will start something. 

Oddly enough, he doesn't. Instead, Vegeta declares that it's time to get back to training. They make their way out of the room without a word. 

As he leaves, Raditz gives you a quick once-over, and flicks the tip of his tail in your direction. 

Bulma turns to you with a giggle as soon as they are gone. 

"I saw that," she says. "Oooo the look he was giving you!"

You bite your lip and feel your face flush. You're no longer innocent, but you still feel a little bashful about the whole thing. 

Funny, too, how Bulma notices that, but doesn't notice Vegeta looking at her the same way.

He seems sneaky about it, though.

You wonder if Yamcha knows, and if so, what he thinks about it. He seems chill about you and Raditz. And, he's still really good friends with Bulma. Maybe, he'll encourage it.

Vegeta needs to calm his ass down, at any rate. He's really intense. 

The evening passes quickly, with Bulma and Yamcha regaling you with stories of their adventures. You learn a lot more about Goku, and as you do, it strikes you as strange that he still seems at odds with Raditz. Then again, you don't have all the facts. 

Eventually, you look at the time. Raditz will be done with training, soon. 

You bite your lip and turn to Bulma. 

"So, um, I think I'm going to go to bed," you say. "Kinda."

She giggles. "Sleep tight. Nice and tight."

Yamcha coughs on his drink. "Oh my God, Bulma." 

"Why are you acting like such a prude?" She scoffs. 

"You're gonna embarrass your friend," he squeaks. "Come on, she's new to this stuff and she just met me today."

You nod slowly. He is completely correct, on that one. 

Apparently, you'll hook up with someone you just met, but you don't want to talk about sex around someone you just met. 

"Tomorrow," you say. "I promise." 

And you mean it. The two of you can talk about the nastiest stuff, sometimes. 

"I miss just having sex whenever," Bulma sighs. 

Yamcha shakes his head. "Don't look at me."

"Hah! I'm not. But, you are good, buddy."

"Thanks, dude."

"Don't mention it, bro."

They make eye contact across the table and burst out in laughter. 

Bulma motions toward the patio door. "Well, bitch, go get fucked."

You laugh. "Thanks! I will."

You leave the patio, walk through the kitchen, and make your way down the hall to your room. 

There's a lovely, dark gray blanket covering the entirety of your bed. Sighing, you lie down on the bed, plug your phone into the charger, and look for something to occupy your mind. 

You scroll through your apps and sigh again. Nobody is online. There's nothing new or interesting going on. Honestly, the waiting is the worst.

Even after the Saiyans come in for the night, you still wait. The bathroom door opens and closes multiple times, and you're pretty sure he's got to be done with his shower, at this point. 

Through the door, you hear Dr. Briefs' muffled voice, and Raditz. The voices slowly disappear down the hall and you sigh. 

He can't be rude to his host, you suppose. 

Oh, no. What if he's giving him a dad lecture about going after you? 

That doesn't seem like him at all, though. He's very supportive of Bulma, even some of her questionable decisions. 

Huffing, you scroll through your phone again in an attempt to distract yourself. You feel like a whiny brat. You've gone how many years without sex? And now, you're getting antsy about not having sex for a few hours. 

You sit up when you hear a knock at the door. Putting your phone down, you stand and practically run over to the door. 

What is he going to do with you, this time? He's giving you a new position almost every time; you practically buzz with anticipation. 

You open the door and freeze at the sight that greets you.

Raditz looks very much like the timid man you saw in the kitchen two days ago, and not the bestial rogue to which you've become accustomed. His posture is hunched, and his arms are crossed, almost like he's hugging himself. A sizeable amount of his hair is draped forward and to the side, and, in fact, has partially lost its typical slicked-back look. 

Even his beautiful, black tail looks sad; it hangs limply behind him, almost dragging on the floor. 

You gently grab his wrist and tug him through the doorway. As soon as you've shut the door behind him, you're running a soothing hand over his forearm.

"What happened?" you ask. 

Raditz turns away. His hair falls like a veil over his front, obscuring part of his face. 

You bite your lip and sigh. 

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," you say. "But the offer is there, all the same."

He shifts his weight like he's going to leave, and you instinctively hold his wrist tighter. 

Is it because you've been drinking? You're buzzed, yeah. But you're not doing anything you wouldn't want to do otherwise.

Raditz shifts his weight back and forth on his feet. 

"They said—"

He doesn't finish his sentence. His entire posture droops further, and his arms fall limply to his sides.

Your buzzed body has a mind of its own. Before you can think to figure out his boundaries, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. Your hands, too, have a mind of their own as they soothingly wander his arms and back. 

Raditz' hands twitch like he's going to do something, but he remains still.

"What if Vegeta wants you?" he murmurs. 

His words hit you like a splash of freezing water, and you sober almost instantly. 

You add everything together and scowl. 

Vegeta is a fine-looking man. He's also an absolute asshole, and entitled as hell.

More than that, he's not Raditz. This is a hookup and all that, but you can't imagine another man touching you. 

That's a concerning thought. This is supposed to be casual.

Finally, you come up with an answer.

"If he wants me," you say, "then he's going to have to use his imagination. Because that's all he's going to get."

Though Raditz' posture largely remains the same, his tail betrays him by swishing around behind him. 

"I'm um," he murmurs. "I'm kinda prissy, for a Saiyan, though. And, um— I mean, technically Nappa would be the ideal Saiyan, but I know for some Earthlings, I might come across as a bit— um— yanno. Because of the hair and the— um— trimming and the— um. Soap? With the flowers."

Soap? Fucking soap?

What neckbeard part of the internet has this man been looking at? The kind where being well-groomed is a sign of being a wuss?

Is he talking about lavender? That's a gender neutral scent, as far as you're concerned. It compliments him very nicely. 

You reach your arms up as high as they can go and lean in to him, effectively rubbing your breasts against him. 

"You're the finest man I've ever laid eyes on," you say.

"More than Vegeta?" he asks.

"Yep. Their opinions of my attractiveness wouldn't have swayed my decision."

Judging by the skeptical look on his face, he's not convinced.

"I understand Nappa, maybe, because of Earthling standards," he says. "But really? Over Vegeta? Why? He's so— Vegeta."

"You're so big and strong," you say. "Your arms, your shoulders, your thighs— God, especially your thighs. And don't even get me started on your perfect ass."

He's blushing, at this point. 

"Tell me more about me," he says, giving you a coy look.

Finally, Raditz is coming out of his shell.

You don't mind extolling his features. In fact, you're going to romance the hell out of this man and hopefully have him swooning.

Relational gender roles are boring, anyway. 

You grab a section of his hair and twirl it around your finger. 

"I have no words to describe how magnificent this is," you say. 

You reach up to stroke his jaw and run your hand down to his collar, grazing your thumb over his Adam's apple on the way. 

"I love this," you murmur. "And this, too."

Your hand wanders to his strong shoulder, then down to his bicep and the red band above it. 

"Not sure what this is," you say, "but it somehow makes your arm look even better."

Raditz shrugs. "Just a hair tie."

Oh. Well, that makes sense. 

Your other hand lets go of his hair and snakes its way under his shirt and up his abdomen.

"I could talk all day about how fucking perfect all of this is," you say, as you gently scratch your way up his stomach. 

A drunken urge to bite his stomach hits you, but you push it away. You do not, however, resist the urge to grab handfuls of his ass and squeeze. 

Raditz squeaks and jumps. 

"Love it," you chuckle. "Love this ass. Ten out of ten."

You glance down and grin. You've barely touched him, and he's rock hard and twitching. 

You give his ass another squeeze as you move your dominant hand to the front. Wrapping your hand around his cock, you begin to stroke him through his pants. 

"This," you murmur. "This. This."

You press your legs together as he twitches in your hand. 

"When I've thought of the perfect dick," you say, "this is exactly what comes to mind."

Raditz whimpers. You look up to meet his hungry gaze while you continue to stroke him. 

"It feels like a dream," you say. "The most perfect man of my fantasies, right here. And I'm fucking him? No way."

Something finally breaks the spell on him, and he's all over you at once. Raditz crushes your body against his and kisses you like he's starving for it. 

His mouth tastes like gin.

At least you're both equally intoxicated. 

He helps you jump up and wrap your legs around his hips. Once again, you don't bother to shed your clothes, and instead, move barriers aside enough that you can fuck. 

Raditz maneuvers you to push your pants down to your knees. He holds you against his front with one of his hands on your hip, and the other supporting your back. Wrapping your legs around him is unnecessary; you're completely secure in his grip. It almost feels like you're laying on your back, with your legs propped up against a wall. 

You clutch his wrists as he penetrates you without preamble and sets a brutal pace. You've been burning for him for hours; he slides in as easily as he did this morning.

Raditz grits his teeth and grunts with every thrust. Soon, though, his jaw quivers and his lip curls upward. His tail winds itself around your arm, clutching you tightly.

You can't help but notice that his revealed incisors look large and sharp. His hands are huge and strong. The wrists you clutch feel thicker than your ankles. He's absolutely massive next to you, and the thought sends a shiver down your spine.

You notice eventually that Raditz is pulling your body against him like a toy as he thrusts into you. It's as if you weigh nothing to him. 

“Fuck, you're so strong,” you gasp.

His breath hitches and he comes without warning. Raditz moans louder than you've ever heard. His legs tremble as he tries to keep himself up. It's too much, though, and he sinks to his knees on the floor, taking you with him. 

After the last of his orgasm ebbs away, he bites his lip and turns his head to the side. He won't look at you. 

"Sorry," he says. "I— sorry. I don't usually do— I'll make it up to you, I swear."

You gently stroke his forearms. They're the only part of him you can reach, other than the forbidden tail wound around your arm.

Does it really matter that he came first? He's capable of multiple orgasms, the same as you are. 

"I'm not an expert," you say, "but I think you needed that. There's nothing to apologize for."

He gently withdraws and undresses you with a reverent, soft touch. Picking you up, he places you on the bed and the nice, new blanket spread over it. Raditz looks you over and bites his lip.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks. 

You shake your head. "Not at all."

Raditz gives you a skeptical look, but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he sheds his clothes, leans over, and kisses you as tentatively as he did the first time your lips met. 

When he pulls back and peers into your eyes, you see something fragile, yet unnamable in his gaze. 

What— what does he want?

He keeps his gaze locked to yours as he slowly pushes inside you once again. A shuddering, gin-scented gasp escapes his lips. You move as one, staring into each others' eyes. 

It's too much— too intense. You don't feel like prey; it's something else entirely. You don't like it, but you can't look away. 

The spell cast over you breaks as his lip curls up and his nose wrinkles. Raditz quickly buries his face into the blanket next to your neck.

"You smell so—"

He inhales deeply. 

"—fuck, your scent—"

He inhales through his mouth and shudders. 

"—is so fucking—"

Another deep inhale, and you hear his teeth chatter.

"Fuck," he pants.

Raditz cant get more than a few words out without huffing your scent. 

Despite the fact that it seems like he's losing his mind over how you smell, his thrusts are gentle and steady. 

Sighing, he kneels between your legs, and gently grabs your legs to hook them around his hips. He slides his arms behind your back to embrace you, putting his weight on his elbows beneath you. 

Raditz holds you flush against his body and starts humping you like a doll. His fluffed-up tail snakes through the air in excitement as he lets out a long moan. 

With his legs spread the way they are, your legs drape over his thick thighs. There isn't room for him to go hard, and his thrusts become more like strokes as he tilts his pelvis to move inside you. 

You feel every inch of him, inside and out— the strong, bulky arms wrapped around you; the powerful thighs between your own; the absolute wall of muscle that is his torso; his cock— hot and thick— stroking you with every thrust. 

Pleasure builds slowly inside you from his steady, decisive movement. It's a sweet torture how he keeps the same pace. 

"Fuck," you gasp. "Fuck. You feel so good." 

Raditz groans and you hear his jaw chatter. 

"Your cock is so fucking good," you moan. "I can't— I can't—"

You can't finish your sentence. You can't hold back. 

You give a loud, low moan and writhe against him as pleasure overtakes you. Automatically, you spread your legs wider at the hips, and squeeze him tight against you with your ankles hooked together. 

"Raditz!" You gasp. "Raditz!" 

His name falls from your lips like a chant with each deep rhythmic contraction of pleasure. You're barely aware of anything going on around you, except the ecstasy ripping through your body, and the glorious warmth enveloping you who caused it. 

Vaguely, you hear him curse under his breath. Just as the tension slowly leaves your body, Raditz groans and clutches you even tighter to his body. His tail wraps around your leg. 

His orgasm overtakes him, and his moans border on shouting. Raditz trembles as his cock throbs and releases inside of you. 

You're quickly turned on and dialed halfway up, just from experiencing him falling apart like he is now. 

As the twitching slows, he keeps languidly rocking inside you. After a moment, though, he speeds up once again. 

You hold tight to each other and do not separate. Maybe it's the drinks making you feel a little lazy. Maybe, it's from whatever personal stuff Raditz is dealing with. Whatever the case, you embrace and don't change positions until you're both sated.

Raditz comes inside you one last time, and the sounds he lets out are closer to a desperate whine than anything else. 

Even as he finally softens inside you, he holds you close. 

With the size difference and the position you're in, you can't reach his mouth to kiss him. You can, however, give his neck some attention. And maybe, it will gently snap him out of whatever this mood is; it's sweet, but you're getting sore.

You plant a kiss along his collar, moving inward toward his neck. You're just about to reach his Adam's apple, when he sits up. 

You still don't want to leave his embrace, but your hips are considerably sore from your legs being spread wide for so long. 

Raditz gently places you back onto the bed and unwinds his tail from your leg. He gives you a long, slow kiss before pulling back.

When he withdraws, it's like uncorking a bottle. 

You're not sure what look you're giving him, but he furrows his brows in concern. 

Raditz kisses the inside of your knee, then puts a hand under your thigh and calf to help you straighten your leg. 

You see the exact moment he notices it:

A brief glimpse of shock, followed by a smug grin.

Raditz looks positively sinful. His tail waves behind him in excitement, and the dark chuckle that comes from his lips reminds you sharply that this man can be extremely dangerous. 

He's a murderer. He would kill his own family. 

He's helping you gently stretch your legs. He kisses them in what feels like affection, without any hint of sexual undertones. 

He gets up, goes to the bathroom, grabs a washcloth, runs it under the tap, then brings it back to hand you. 

You wipe up what you can —he used warm water— and he takes the washcloth back to the bathroom to rinse and hang up. 

When Raditz returns, he slides into bed next to you with a kiss on the cheek. 

Who is he, really? This makes no sense. 

You wish for a world where Gohan's idea that bad guys are mean to girls, and good guys are nice to them, is true. Its oversimplified. 

You've had a few drinks. You've had amazing sex. And, in this moment, you want to lie to yourself and believe that everything is much more simple than you think. 

The fun, flirty mood from last night isn't difficult to evoke. 

You chuckle as you curl up against his side. 

"It's kind of funny how we couldn't wait to take off our clothes," you say. "We're in a bedroom and have the whole night. But nope, I've gotta climb you like a tree and fuck you with all my clothes on." 

He was in a bad state when you opened the door. He needs to know how you feel. 

You nuzzle his chest, then look up to meet his gaze. "That's how much I wanted you." 

There's that look again. What does he want? 

Your immature, anxious side comes out; you flick your tongue over his nipple and watch as his expression changes to something familiar and safe:

Barely-restrained lust. 

"If you want to rest," he says, "don't push that button again."

It takes all your willpower to not do it again. You do need to rest; your inner thighs ache from your legs being spread so wide for a long time. 

Pouting, you scoot further up to remove the temptation from reach. 

"I'm gonna getcha'," you murmur. "When you least expect it, I'm gonna do it."

Raditz chuckles and wraps his arm around you. "I'm in trouble, then. I know that's not a threat; it's a promise." 

You grab a section of his hair and play with it. Along with kissing him, you could play with his hair for hours.

"I'm not bullshitting you," you say. "You are amazingly hot. I'm still shocked that I had the nerve to approach you like that."

"I'm shocked that you did it," he admits. "It was bold. Very bold."

It's hard to believe that you just did that last night. You're getting used to him quickly; it feels comfortable and normal to be with him. 

You think it's partially because he is so careful with you. Whatever you've heard about him is incongruous with how he acts.

You wish things were more simple.

"Honestly," you murmur. "You've treated me so well. I think people have the wrong impression of you."

Raditz shakes his head. "Maybe, you have the wrong impression of me."

Well, that's a red flag, if you've ever seen one. When someone tells you who they are, believe them. 

To be fair, you're just having sex. This isn't going farther than that.

You promptly ignore your earlier thought of wanting to romance him. You also ignore the red flag.

"Well, I don't know how you are around them," you say. "But the inverse is true, as well. They don't know how you are with me."

Technically, they do. Whether or not they believe you is another matter entirely. 

"Well, that's only a matter of time," he says. 

"How so?" You snicker. "Is it the screaming or—?"

"Bulma." 

You laugh. If Gohan hadn't said what he did, then Bulma certainly wouldn't keep her mouth shut. 

"Yep," you sigh. "That does sound about right."

You're not sure whether to tell him that you got outed, or not. He's dealing enough with— 

Vegeta? And you? 

Nah. There's some missing information, there. Vegeta wants Bulma. It doesn't matter if he thinks you're attractive. 

Raditz is really insecure. It's as if he's trying to convince you that Vegeta is more of man than him. 

You'd be inclined to think that it's ridiculous, but you're easily jealous of him.

It's got to be all the sex hormones, and then, the drinks, tonight. You barely know each other, and nothing else makes logical sense. 

If you keep going at it, you're sure things will even out eventually.

Chapter Text

You wake up looking and feeling like a hot mess. You can't recall how many times you woke up to a soft caress on your arm or a kiss to your neck, and various words which grew more desperate as the night wore on:

"Wanna have some fun, sweetheart?"

"Can I have you again?"

"I want you so much right now." 

"Can I— please?"

"I need you so bad."

"Fuck. I need you."

"I feel like I'm going to die if I can't fuck you right now."

"I need you so bad. My dick fucking hurts."

"I want— need— I'm sorry. Fuck."

"You know you can say no, right?" 

That last one woke you up more than any of the others. It made you roll over and attempt to tackle him. 

You say yes every time. You gave an emphatic yes to the last one. 

If you feel like saying no, you will do so. And you trust him enough to believe without question that he will stop. The way Raditz checks in with you reiterates that your choice to have sex with him was a good one. 

Your alarm rings and you roll over to turn it off. Once it is silenced, you turn around to see that Raditz is already up. 

He's lying on his stomach, and his arms are crossed to provide a cradle for his head. He looks at you with the same soft, sweet look he had last night. You still don't know what he wants. If you knew, you'd give it to him; the look on his face reminds you of an adoring puppy.

You drink in the sight of him: his big, strong arms; a broad, muscular back; the inky mass of hair pulled to his side; the decadently soft tail wrapped around a massive thigh. 

Your gaze stops on his butt. You can't help but reach over and gently poke the large freckle on his right cheek. It's such an unexpectedly cute thing to find on one of the biggest, strongest men you've ever seen. 

Too cute. You love it. 

Raditz gives you an odd look as you give it another quick boop.

“Your butt freckle is perfect,” you explain. “A perfect freckle on the most perfect butt.”

He lights up and quickly leans over to give you a hungry kiss. Like always, the kiss stokes the unquenchable flame of lust between you. 

Reluctantly, you pull back, grab your phone, and sigh as you look at the time. 

"I wish we had enough time," you say. 

Raditz gives you another kiss. "Shower sex?"

Oh! 

You sit up in bed, allowing the sheet to fall to your waist. He stares at your chest, and you wonder if he's aware that he's licking his lips. 

"You have the best ideas," you say. 

Raditz chuckles and gives you a kiss. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, carrying you toward the bathroom. 

You wrap your arms around him and nuzzle his chest. He's so big and strong. Between that and his attentiveness, you feel absolutely spoiled—

As it should be. You deserve this. 

You're grateful that he holds you up; between just getting up, getting turned on, and the heat of the shower, you're extremely lightheaded. You might faint if you attempt to stand on your own. 

You cling to him as he holds you close and slowly penetrates you. Despite the lack of time, he coaxes pleasure from your body as if it's nothing. 

The acoustics of the shower make you feel like you're even louder than in the bedroom. Your gasps turn to moans, and soon, you find yourself calling his name repeatedly as your climax overtakes you. 

How is it always this good? 

Raditz moans and buries his face against the crook of your neck. The feeling of him coming inside you sets you off again; you groan and grind against him, desperate for as much contact as you can get. 

The sound of the shower and your mingled, harsh breathing pull you back to reality. Raditz has to go train. 

He withdraws from you and gently places you down on the built-in seat in the shower. Grabbing the soap, he starts to clean up. 

When you don't move after a while, he gives you an odd look. 

"I need to catch my breath," you admit. "POTS."

Raditz gently scrubs his tail and you zone out while watching him.

"What's that?" He asks. "Pots of what?"

"Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome."

He gives you an expectant look. 

You shake yourself. 

"To oversimplify it," you say, "if I sit or stand up after lying down for a while, I can feel faint. My heart will race, but it can't get my blood circulated fast enough from the change in position. There are other things that can worsen it, and it can range in severity, but that's basically what it is."

Raditz frowns. "Were you not okay a few minutes ago?"

You shrug. "Apparently having an orgasm while being lightheaded is kind of nice." 

He laughs —a beautiful sound— and finishes his shower. 

Sighing, you think about Bulma and the dozens of questions she will ask you today. There's two of you in this equation, and he does live here. 

"So, if the fancy blanket wasn't any indication, Bulma knows what's going on," you say. 

Raditz chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm surprised half the city doesn't know, with how loud you get."

You huff in mock indignation. 

"Do you not like knowing you're doing a good job?" You ask. 

"You kidding?" He laughs. "I love knowing that people can hear me ruining you."

Oh, good. That makes asking this question much easier. 

"Bulma is absolutely going to interrogate me today," you say. "That's why I brought it up."

Raditz tries to act nonchalant and shrugs. Still, you notice the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Ah, there's the naughty guy you propositioned. The soft, puppy eyes he's been giving you lately are thankfully absent. 

Raditz finishes his shower and squeezes as much water as he can out of his hair. 

"Brag away," he says. "I'm not gonna fuck her, though. That'd be weird." 

He finishes his statement with a smirk. 

"Good," you say. 

Good that you can talk, and good that he's going to keep away from her. 

Raditz steps closer to you, and the frightening, soft puppy eyes are back.

"Will you be okay on your own?" He asks. "Since you're lightheaded and all."

The more he thinks of you and your needs, the less you believe the horror stories about him. Surely, he's not that man anymore. 

"Yeah," you say. "I never take a quick shower. I'll see you tonight, right?"

"Absolutely."

Raditz leans over to give you a kiss. What is meant to be a quick goodbye quickly devolves into something more heated. 

He pulls back with a sigh. 

A quick glance reveals that he's starting to get turned on, again. As much as you want to go another round, you know he doesn't have the time.

"See you later," you say. 

Raditz visibly shakes himself and grabs a towel. He dries off quickly, then hangs the towel back up on the rack. 

Turning, he gives you that look again. 

"See you tonight." 

With that, he leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. After a few seconds, you hear the bedroom door close as well. 

Sighing, you decide to get on with your shower. It's way too damn early to be awake, but now that the drowsiness has passed, you can't fall asleep again. 

At least you can watch the sunrise. That sounds nice. 

You finish your shower, pull on some fresh clothes, grab your phone, and head out to the living room. 

While the guys have moved on to go training, you're not fortunate enough to be alone; Mrs. Briefs is in the kitchen, getting herself a cup of coffee. 

She beams when she sees you, and quickly grabs another cup. 

"You're up so early, sweetheart," she says. 

You shrug. "Ah, I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

It's not exactly a lie. 

"Hm, let me see," she murmurs. 

Mrs. Briefs pours you a cup of coffee and rattles off exactly how you like it while she prepares it. 

She even describes the temperature you prefer. 

Dumbfounded, you take a seat at the breakfast bar as she hands you the coffee. 

Mrs. Briefs watches you take a sip and leans on the counter.

"I heard some noise the other night, dear," she says. "Let me know if you need anything; I can get you some pillows, different shaped pillows, more blankets, condoms, lube —most certainly plan B if you need it. Who's the lucky fella?" 

You feel your face heat in embarrassment. 

Mrs. Briefs giggles.

"I betcha it's Raditz," she says. "I saw you two playing footsie-tailsie under the table the other night."

You look down at your coffee and chew on your lip in nervousness.

"I knew it!" She giggles. "My gosh, you're a lucky girl. Such a big stud, that man is. Oh my!"

You don't know what to say. You haven't prepared for the possibility of this discussion. 

The word "stud" is apt. You're having animalistic sex and you're certain that there's way more semen involved than there would be with someone of your own species.

Mrs. Briefs sighs, takes a sip of her coffee, and fixes you with a serious look. 

"Do you need Plan B?" She asks. 

Oh. 

There's the woman Bulma tells you about. She notices everything. 

God help the fool who underestimates Panchi Briefs. 

"No, ma'am."

Her brilliant smile and bubbly laugh are back in an instant. 

"Oh, don't call me that! I'm not old, sweetheart!"

You wince. "Sorry!"

Mrs. Briefs giggles. "I would love to ask you more about it, but I don't think that would be appropriate. He's treating you nice, though?"

You're not sure what kind of look you've got on your face, but she bursts out in a fit of giggles. 

You manage to squeak out a "yes". 

"I figured so," she says. "He's an absolute darling. I have a hard time believing he was so nasty. Any of them, to be honest. Sure, they're a bit rough, but I have a hard time believing it was that extreme."

You stare down at your coffee in thought. You agree with her on that. At this point, you can't imagine any of them being so terrible. 

Yes, even Nappa. You've talked back to him so much and he lets it go. 

Then again, they've been here for a while. That's a good chunk of time for them to straighten out. 

Mrs. Briefs picks up her cup of coffee. 

"Want to come out with me to the patio and watch the sunrise?" she asks. 

You nod. "That would be lovely."
 
Grabbing your coffee, you make your way out to the patio. 

Now that everyone knows what's going on, you don't see a need to tiptoe around anymore. 

You just hope that Raditz doesn't catch too much shit from people over it. 

It's not his fault that he's so irresistible, after all. 

Chi-Chi is up bright and early to work on the laundry. While Gohan studies inside, the rest of the family is outside doing chores and spending time together.

Well, all except for one: Raditz. 

After last night's discussion, Chi-Chi realizes that unfortunately, they can't let this conversation wait. 

She sighs and shakes her head. Chi-Chi knows this is going to hurt, but she also knows that, as a mother, she would want to know the truth, no matter how painful. 

"So, while Gohan is studying," she says, "we need to tell you something." 

She looks over at Goku and nods. He puts on his serious fighting face and looks over at Bardock. 

Chi-Chi and Goku might not agree about Gohan studying versus training. They are, however, completely united in this decision. It's a great relief to her that this isn't something they need to argue about. 

"I hate to tell you this," Goku says, "but Raditz is not a good person, and he is not welcome here, or around Gohan. We do not speak to him."

The serious look on Bardock's face has Chi-Chi concerned about how this will play out. 

"So, a few years ago," Goku said, "he came here to try to pick me up to join their squad. He was angry that the planet wasn't destroyed. So, kidnapped Gohan in exchange for one hundred dead people. Said he'd count the bodies."

Gine looks faint. 

Chi-Chi can't tell what Bardock is thinking. He is so like her husband, yet so unlike him, as well. He's young, but he's got a look in his eyes that makes him look so much older.

"I had to team up with an enemy to fight him," Goku continues. "He lied and cheated his way out of a fair fight. I had to play his own game and hold him down while Piccolo shot us. We both died."

Chi-Chi resents the tears falling down her cheeks, and she tries her hardest to not sob. She hears a sniffle coming from Gine. She can't bear to look at her; if she does, she knows she's going to absolutely lose it. 

"We're alive again, obviously," Goku says. "I haven't said hi since he came back, and don't plan to. I made the mistake of trusting him once. I won't do that again. That day destroyed Gohan's childhood and Chi-Chi has never been the same. So, I don't want Raditz anywhere near my wife or my son, or near my home. I can show you how to get to Capsule Corp where he is, but that's all the further we will be involved."

That day is still one of the worst days of her life. And that monster, Raditz, is alive again, living far too close to Bulma and the dragon radar. He even lives in a mansion! He gets everything handed to him— food, shelter, a comfy bed, training facilities, any luxury imaginable— and doesn't work for a single speck of it!

Chi-Chi wants to tell them all of this, as well, but she stops. As much as she wants to try to hurt Raditz back in any way possible, she knows they've dropped a lot on them already.

They know that their son has grown up to be a murderous thug. That's enough information for one day. If they want more details, that can come later. Now is not the time.

She looks up to see a frightening scowl on Bardock's face. 

"He's dead to me."

After hearing her husband's stance, Gine collapses to the ground sobbing and wailing.

Bardock looks lost, like he doesn't know what to do with his wife in such a state. Goku rushes over and sweeps his mother into his arms and holds her as she sobs into his shirt. 

Chi-Chi tries to dry her eyes, but doesn't succeed. 

Her father-in-law doesn't know how to comfort his wife. He probably knows nothing but violence and death. 

Damn that Frieza! 

Chi-Chi wishes that something in her now-disowned brother-in-law could be redeemed. Goku tried. He let his tail go when he begged to be let go and promised to leave— all a lie.

Her innocent Gohan has seen dozens of people die since then. Chi-Chi sits with him when nightmares from Namek wake him up. She holds Gohan close to her as he sobs about "Mr. Vegeta's broken back and there's a hole in the front of his stomach and there's blood coming out of his mouth and he's crying and hurt real bad, and I couldn't help him."

It's a mess. Everything is a complete mess. 

Chi-Chi supposes she is naïve to think that Bardock would have decided to go try to scold Raditz and get him to shape up. 

He's younger than both of his sons. Would Raditz give him the same respect that Goku does? She doubts it. 

This is not how she expected this to play out. 

Still, what her in-laws choose to do is their business. 

Chi-Chi suspects, though, that Gine won't let this go so easily. Whenever that time comes, Chi-Chi knows she will have to be diplomatic. 

As long as she has time to think about it, she thinks she can manage.

Bulma sleeps through breakfast. She almost sleeps through lunch. She insists that wanting to go out to the wisteria pergola for lunch is so you can have privacy, rather than avoiding noise. 

It's probably a bit of both. After she has some coffee and a bunch of water, she slowly becomes more talkative. 

You know she's back to normal when she finally removes her sunglasses and starts eating.

You wish you could recover from headaches so easily. To be honest, you wish your migraines were just headaches. 

But, that is life, and you're used to it by now. 

By this point, Bulma has eaten over half a package of strawberries. She's absolutely glowing from having her favorite food.

Bulma gives you a cheeky grin. "Now that Yamcha isn't here, we can really talk."

Ah, there it is. 

You're looking forward to this talk, to be honest. This is all new and very exciting.

And, you have permission to talk about it. 

"So, the dick looks like a human dick, right?" she says. "Goku did run around butt-ass naked as a kid every so often, but yanno... he was a kid and I told him to cover up right away. It's not remotely something I was looking at."

Of course, she goes for that right away. And, why not? She's a scientist and a connoisseur of dicks.

You nod. "Yes. Intact, too. It would be interesting to know if their society did stuff like circumcision for any reason, but Nappa would be the guy to ask about that and uh—"

"What?" Bulma laughs. "You don't want to ask him about Saiyan dicks?

You shake your head. 

Even if it were in the name of education, you can't imagine Raditz feeling anything about it other than insecure and jealous. And you don't want Nappa to get any ideas. 

Bulma takes a sip of her water. "So, as an alien, did you need to tell him about the clitoris? Or—?"

She leaves the statement hanging, but you know what she's asking. 

Your satisfied grin gets even bigger. "He knew exactly what that was and what to do with it."

Bulma looks down in thought. 

"Unless there's women out there in space with a clitoris and self-lubricating vagina, this means he's been doing some research."

You shrug. "I've done some research, too." 

If "user submitted porn to a really popular site" counts as research, that is. And, whatever 18+ deep in the weeds threads you can lurk on when looking at Reddit.

You can know the facts about something, have all sorts of tips, know how to make your own body orgasm hard, and be prepared. Even with those things, it still doesn't compare to what you're experiencing. 

"By research, you mean porn, right?" She drawls.

You snicker and nod. "Yeah, there are a lot of real life, actual couples who put their sex tapes up on certain sites. And I'm fairly sure it's not all that faked stuff."

Bulma laughs. "It figures that your good researching skills come into play with this. But, also, good on him for knowing about the clit. Most women need it to orgasm. I don't know anyone who doesn't."

You shrink in your seat and Bulma gasps in mock indignation. 

"You bitch! You cannot be serious!"

"To be fair," you say, "I was practicing that for a while."

She laughs. "And this is part of why you're having really good sex. If you don't mind sharing, how do you practice?"

Well, this is a change. It's fun to give advice like this, given your lack of experience. 

"It takes some time," you say. "But uh, just getting really super turned on, and being a little rough with a big toy. And just, really let your mind focus on how it feels."

Bulma sighs. "I'm fairly sure I've done that."

"If it's any consolation," you say, "it's not as powerful as having both types of stimulation. And my arms get fucking tired, dude."

Bulma cackles. "Well, that's a dilemma. Good thing you've got someone handling that for you, now."

"True," you snort. "I have people for that."

She stares at you with wide eyes. "People?"

You wince.

"Ah. I was just using a turn of phrase. Technically, I have a person for that."

Bulma laughs. "I was gonna say; I don't see you having a ho phase so quickly. Then again, I support it. Or, if you don't want to, I also support that."

You nod. 

"To be honest," you say, "I don't know how I feel about trying other partners out, right now. I've hit the absolute jackpot."

Bulma shakes her head. "I'll say. He's had a lot more downs than ups since he's been back, but that swagger he's got has been a constant. He knows how to have fun and it shows."

"That he does," you say.

You resolve to not tell her about the shocking vulnerability he has, and especially not how he was last night. You're certain that people knowing that he's deeply sensitive and insecure would humiliate him. 

You really wonder why Bulma never made a move on him. He's hot, self-assured, and down to fuck. Maybe, it's the relation to Goku. Regardless, you're glad she hasn't. 

You drum your fingers on the table in thought. There's a lot of stuff you can share that doesn't have anything to do with his vulnerability.

There is something that comes to mind that you realize is a massive turn on for you, and it probably cemented itself as a fetish with your first experience. 

"According to my sample size of one," you say, "it seems that Saiyans can have multiple orgasms in a row. Sometimes, that means no refractory period. Sometimes, that means literally, one within seconds of the previous one."

Bulma sits back in her chair with wide eyes. 

"That sounds messy," she murmurs. "Real messy."

You close your eyes and nod. "Mm. Very messy, yes."

The goofy smile on your face has Bulma cackling. 

"Whatever you're into," she says. "I'm glad I got you that blanket. Is one enough?"

You cringe and shrug. 

"Just an extra one to sleep on," you say. "He kept waking me up to go at it again."

She snickers as she puts in an order on her phone. Without looking up, Bulma shakes her head. 

"No wonder Goku noticed the smell," she says. "And, Gohan. Seriously though, it sounds like you're having a great time, and I'd cover an entire damn room in four inches of those blankets for you."

You laugh. "If you build it, I will come. Physically, and sexually."

Bulma laughs and gives you a cheeky look. 

"So, what's your favorite position?" She asks.

You can't really pick a favorite. 

"The one where his dick is inside me."

Bulma bursts out in laughter.

Okay, there are some that stand out. 

It's bragging time.

"I never thought I'd like the idea of doggy," you say. "But, he is so big and the way he fucks is so primal and—"

You shudder.

"Like, in the bathroom," you say. "With the mirror right in front of us."

Bulma grins. "Yeah, a mirror like that is fucking hot."

"That was when I saw the Flehmen response," you say. "And, the size difference. God. He'd make anyone look tiny. There's one though— I don't know the names of positions, okay? Its like missionary but you keep body contact and grind. That one. I like it."

Because you can kiss the whole time. Because he kisses your neck and murmurs in your ear about all the ways you turn him on. As the night wore on, you held tighter to each other in that position. 

Bulma is giving you a look that you can't quite place. 

"Do you know what that is?" she asks.

"A fun time."

Bulma laughs. "Okay. But that's coital alignment technique. I am shocked that he would know such a thing."

"Why?"

She blinks and crosses her arms.

"Yanno," Bulma says, "that's a good question and I don't have an answer for it. I think it's my general low confidence in men."

You shrug. You've got no idea what she's talking about, aside from secondhand information. 

Bulma sighs and stares out at the garden in thought. 

"You know," she says, "I won't say too much about him, but it's hard to find someone who compares to Yamcha. Yeah, we figured stuff out together, but that fighter body— It's just unrealistic to compare a regular guy, even a gym rat, to someone like that."

You nod in agreement. "It's not just the look, either; it's the strength and the endurance of that strength."

"A regular person just can't compare," she sighs. 

You wonder if you're going to be sent to hell for what you're about to say.

"Have you considered Vegeta?" you ask.

Bulma's face flushes bright red, confirming to you that she has, in fact, considered Vegeta. 

"I can't do that," she murmurs. "I don't want him to feel like he's giving me something in exchange for living here. I might tease every now and then, but the last thing I want would be to have him think that he's obligated to sleep with me."

You nod slowly. You won't push or pry further. 

"That makes sense," you say. "Especially since he was enslaved for most of his life."

Bulma sighs. "Exactly that. Doesn't mean I'm not tempted, but I generally know when to be appropriate."

There's a pause as she seems to think about something. 

"Hey, so," she says, "I know I can get carried away with talking about stuff. Thank you for putting up with me yesterday, and I'm sorry for making things awkward."

"Girl, it's fine," you say. "Yamcha seems pretty cool about stuff. For what it's worth, it seems like he's a great friend, so I'm glad you were able to work things out to stay friends."

Bulma bites her lip and her chin quivers. 

"Sorry," she sniffles. "I just— outside of online friends and the group of fighters I know, I don't have any friends, really. I've got to hide all this secret stuff and—"

A tear falls down her cheek.

"I don't know if people want to be my friend, or just want my money," she says. "I know, 'poor little rich girl, complaining about money'. And I know you have real problems—"

"No," you interject. "You have real problems, too. That's got to be horrible, not knowing if someone's being fake or not."

You change seats to sit next to her and wrap your arm around her shoulders. If there's anyone in the world who needs a hug right now, it's Bulma. 

She sniffles and wipes the tears off of her cheeks. 

"It's really nice," she says. "I get to talk about sexy, naughty stuff without worrying if it's going to go to TMZ."

You smile. "I'm enjoying it, too. Most of my friends are married, so this kind of talk is a bit more off-limits, you know?"

"Right. And, who am I gonna tell?" Bulma chuckles. "I think the wisteria can keep a secret."

You think that perhaps, the fact that Raditz helps you stretch and cuddles with you is what he might find embarrassing. He also worries about the idea of you ditching him. His self-esteem is nil. He's got a reputation and can't come off as a softie, sensitive, desperate, or anything less than strong. 

That part is what you'll keep secret. You're using your best judgement with what you decide to share. 

It's hard to believe you've only had two nights with this man. You'll be leaving in a few days, though, so that is a bit of a bummer. You can definitely come back, however.

You and Bulma spend the rest of the day in the garden, then have dinner again under the pergola in the wisteria.

The sun sets, and you can barely hide your anticipation.

You wish you could have Raditz to yourself all day, but there's no chance of that happening. You'll make the best of whatever time you have, though.

It's well after dark, and you wait in your room, the same as last night. There's a knock on the door and a quick greeting, followed by a kiss and clothes dropping to the floor. 

His kisses are searing, and his touch feels urgent. You wonder if something happened. He's attentive as always, but everything he does is with a breath-stealing intensity. 

But, you don't have time to think about it too much.

Raditz takes you on top of a plush, freshly-washed blanket. He calls you his good girl and spoils you the way you deserve. 

You're at a point in the night where your orgasms are giving diminishing returns. Thanks to what you assume is Saiyan endurance, Raditz is supercharged and insatiable as always. 

You pick up a lot of little things about him: 

He moans really loud when you claw up his back. Pulling his hair has a good chance of setting him off. He loves it when you grope him like a hunk of meat. He responds very well to you saying his name— whether it results in him panting out something reassuring, or makes him come.

And, for whatever reason, he seems to have a preference for some variant of a missionary style position. In the beginning, he takes you from behind, but, as things slow to a simmer, he switches. You're curious as to why, and wonder if his reasons are similar to yours: seeing each other, being able to kiss, the closeness.

Raditz kneels between your spread legs and continues to thrust deep inside you. While he seems to have less of a strong flehmen response now, he's still keen on your scent; it's almost as if he's addicted. 

You take in the sight of the sweating, panting wall of muscle between your thighs, grinning when a sound that is close to a whimper tears its way from his throat. He gasps above you and clings to the edge of the mattress with his inhuman strength. Seams and fabric rip above your head. Still, even as his hips stutter and his thrusts lose rhythm, he's gentle. 

He's going to come soon. 

Is this his last orgasm? You want him to be satisfied, but you're getting tired. 

The height difference puts a temptation before your eyes, and gives you an idea. His nipples are easily accessible from your position beneath him.

You're gonna get him, just like you said yesterday. 

You can barely contain a giggle as you reach up — leftie is your victim — and flick the tip of your tongue over it. 

Raditz shrieks and gives a final, hard thrust that sends a small twinge of pain to your core. You flick your tongue over his nipple repeatedly. His moans have taken on a desperate, higher pitch as he shudders and releases inside you. 

Damn. Can he get louder? With an insatiable curiosity, you switch to his right nipple and give it a gentle nip. 

He damn near screams and he's either cumming again, or continuing. His vocalizations have taken on a feverish pitch. You have no doubt that everyone in the vicinity can hear him wailing. 

With each small thrust, you feel him pulse and empty inside you. His chest heaves with each gasping shout. The muscles of his abdomen clench tight. His grip on the bed is deathlike, and his arms quiver as they try to hold him up.

And his hair — all that beautiful, silky hair — falls around you both like a curtain. You grab a handful of it and yank, but he's so swept away that you're not sure if it registers to him. 

A surge of arousal shoots through you at the sight and sound of this huge, powerful man becoming unhinged at your slightest touch. 

Raditz' thrusts and moans ebb away until he's panting and trembling. The tension leaves his body all at once and he collapses forward, catching himself on his forearms at the last second. 

His chest is mere inches away from your face. You realize that had he fallen on you, it could have been disastrous.

Then again, death by being smothered with 300 pounds of Saiyan meat —in his own words— sounds like a glorious way to go. You had a good run, and your only regret would have been that you didn't get to have more of it. 

Giggling, you press a kiss against his sternum. He shifts above you and gently withdraws. Rolling over, he flops to the side of you and stares up at the ceiling with his mouth agape. 

Silence fills the room. He's so lost in what transpired that it looks like he's dissociating. 

After a minute, Raditz blinks and snaps out of his stupor. 

"Am I alive?" He asks. 

You shrug. 

"I haven't died before, so you'd have to tell me," you say. 

He chuckles. He puts his hands on his face and takes a deep breath. Exhaling, he lets his arms flop back to his sides. 

"I'm sure they'll punch me back into reality when we train tomorrow," he grumbles. 

Your smile falters. 

"I don't like how they treat you."

Raditz shrugs and a pained smile flashes across his face before he schools it into indifference.

"It is what it is," he says. "If I'm a punching bag, then at least I'm useful for something."

It hurts to hear that Earth isn't the only place where the worth of an individual is measured in how they can be used. You've worked for years to erase that programming in your mind, and yet, it still pops up every now and then. 

"Honestly," you say, "I think part of why they treat you so badly is because of their own feelings of inadequacy, especially Vegeta."

He whistles and shakes his head. 

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

You shrug. Maybe that's for the best. 

You don't hate the other guys, but you don't like them, either. 

"What do you do for training?" You ask. 

Raditz tenses up and plasters on a fake smile. 

"Ah, just some sparring," he says. 

You think about what he said about being a punching bag, and it all clicks into place:

They're beating the shit out of him every day.

You can't bear looking at him, and instead, snuggle against his side. Raditz wraps his arm and tail around you, pulling you close. 

You might hate the other guys, now. 

You want to ask more questions, but you're not sure what to ask, or how to ask it. Raditz seems to be avoiding saying too much about it.

You're not close enough to press the issue, either. It seems to you, though, that you're the only thing that feels good to him, right now. With you, he experiences pleasure rather than pain. 

You snuggle closer and wonder how long it has been since someone has held him like this. 

Perhaps, that's what the puppy-eyed look is about. 

A quick glance up shows that he's giving you that look again. You intend to look away, but you can't. 

Okay. You make him feel good. You accept that; he makes you feel good, too. 

There's something else going on, though, and it's starting to make you anxious.

Raditz wants something from you, and you have no clue what it is. You'll help him if you can. 

What does he want? 

Chapter Text

Raditz has been on edge ever since you started wearing more flattering clothes. He worries about what will happen if Vegeta wants you.

It surprises him that you're letting it go. You haven't asked again since that shameful night he showed his weakness to you. Raditz is sure you still want to know what Vegeta said that upsets him so much. 

Raditz' answer: Nothing.

Because, literally, Vegeta hasn't said anything. 

Nappa mentioned how beautiful you are. Vegeta's response? A nod. 

That's it. A nod of agreement.

But, Vegeta has a way of getting whatever he wants. He routinely takes things from Raditz, even. 

You tell Raditz that you find his power and strength sexy. Vegeta has way more power and strength than Raditz ever will. 

If Vegeta wants you, he will find a way to take you. He knows what to do with a woman well enough, and he's capable of playing the seduction game. And Vegeta is good looking, by many Earthling standards. 

Vegeta is a lot of man in such a compact body. He's probably the perfect mix of masculine, well-groomed, and refined.

Raditz scoots closer and inhales deeply. His lip curls and he tastes the air, covering his mouth with his arm as soon as he knows he's about to do it. Your delicious smell has lessened some, but it still blankets his mind in a fog of lust. 

He doesn't want to admit it, but due to the smell you're giving off, he's been a danger to you. Those guys on Reddit are kinda right.

As fun as the whole thing is, he's grateful that the scent is fading. He's not sure how strong the human neck is, but his urge to bite the back of your neck like an animal is way too strong. His jaw is powerful, and his teeth are large and sharp. 

He gets so caught up in the moment that biting a pillow hasn't occurred to him. If it gets bad enough, he'll go for his own arm. But, hopefully he won't have to do something so pathetic.

Raditz doesn't want to frighten you at all. He worries how his newfound smelling reflex might look to you. He tries to hide it; tries to bury his face against your neck or put his hand over his mouth. 
 
Raditz' instincts are strong, and since he's of a lower class, they're harder to control. 

Vegeta, on the other hand, would probably have control over it. If Vegeta wants you, Raditz is out. He just knows it. 

You met a few days ago. You barely know each other. 

You don't live here, and you're going to leave eventually. This is a fling; you've made that perfectly clear.

Shit. 

You're going to leave. You'll be gone soon. He might not see you in a long time, if he ever sees you again. 

When you leave, you might be gone forever. The thought fills him with an extremely inappropriate amount of terror.

Raditz is embarrassed and humiliated by his neediness. He hates living inside his own mind, right now. 

From what he knows about Saiyans, which isn't much, he's honestly feminine for a male Saiyan. Nappa calls him "pretty" and has done so for years. 

It's not a compliment, coming from Nappa's mouth. 

What's worse is that he might be a bit feminine for human standards, too. He's vain and takes care of his appearance to a nearly paranoid degree.

He still doesn't understand why you have such a preference for him. 

Raditz doesn't want to get out of bed. He likes the idea of cuddling, kissing you, fucking, and yeah, even chatting like you are, right now. He loves the way his tail feels against your soft skin; he wraps it around your arm often and brushes it against your fingers. 

You have yet to even ask to touch it, and he wonders if it disgusts you.

"So, I met your brother," you say. 

Raditz stills. The fur on his tail bristles, and he hopes you don't notice it.

"He seemed concerned that you might be not really nice to me," you say. "I don't understand that, to be honest."

He's given Kakarot a horrible impression, but there's nothing he can do about it, now. Once Raditz found out that the planet was intact, he may have smoked a bit of his stash get in the right mindset before going off to find Kakarot.

The best equivalent on Earth he can think of might be crack. Or cocaine. He's not completely sure, though.

Dealing with all of this shit is really hard without a little something to get by. He's still gonna give it a shot, though. All those feel good chemicals from having sex with you take a lot of the edge off. 

Raditz needs something to take the edge off of life. Pathetic.

You're going to find out that he's a loser. You'll be done with him soon enough. 

He can't come up with a reply to what you said. Instead, he pulls you close to kiss you. 

Mine. 

He trails kisses down your neck.

Mine. 

Raditz was here first. 

Mine.

His mouth is hungry and desperate, and he forgets to be gentle. 

Mine. 

He leaves a trail of nips and bruises wherever his mouth goes.

Mine.

He takes you roughly. He forgets to hide his sniffing reflex and bares his teeth in your face.

Mine.

He comes inside you. He comes across your back and over your breasts. 

Mine. 

He makes you scream his name, when he knows he should be making his way to the kitchen to meet before training. 

Mine.

He fucks you from behind like an animal. His jaw quivers against your nape.

Mine. 

Fuck. He's gonna come. Fuck. He's gonna— he's gonna—

Mine. Mine mine mine mine. 

He practically explodes inside you. A deep growl rumbles from the back of his throat. 

Mine! 

His jaw snaps and his worst fears come true. Raditz quickly moves his arm in front of his mouth and clamps down like a savage. 

Fuck. Fuck! Yes! Yes! Mine!

He feels your strong muscles squeezing the life out of his dick.

Fuck!

Mine. Mine. Mmm. 

For the first time in a while, Raditz feels sated. 

The taste of blood in his mouth shakes him from his stupor. 

It's his own blood. 

He's bitten his own arm. He's practically lying on top of you. 

Raditz quickly pushes himself up. He doesn't know how fragile your body is, but it's possible his weight might crush you. He doesn't want to find out.

He opens his mouth and takes stock of his arm. The punctures are deep; there's no doubt in his mind that this bite would have severely hurt you. 

You crawl out from underneath him, turn, and flop onto your back.

Your voice cuts through the silence. "You okay?"

"I should be asking you that," he says. 

You're covered in little, red nip marks, and there are quite a few red, hand-shaped areas on your arms, hips, legs, and ankles. And he's cum all over you like trash— like a used rag.

Raditz averts his gaze in shame. 

"I'm fine," you say. "Just surprised that you're staying so late. It's almost five thirty."

Swearing, Raditz stumbles out of bed. He's late. He's super late. Fuck. 

Fuck!

He yanks his clothes back on, ignoring all of the nasty things he knows he should wash off of his body, first. If he stops to shower, it'll just be worse.

Without a word, he dashes to the door, opens it, and closes it behind him. Raditz zips down the hall and out to the patio, then jumps over the edge to get to the ground quicker. 

A run over to the GR reveals Nappa standing outside, his shirt already lightly stained with sweat. 

Raditz comes to a skidding halt next to him and tries to catch his breath.

"Bout time you showed up," Nappa says. "But, he's gonna hate how you smell."

Raditz calms his breathing, but he can't calm his racing, terrified heart. "I didn't want to be any later than I already am."

Nappa shrugs. "I personally don't give a shit how you smell. Don't know why he's gotten so prissy about it, with the amount of actually horrible things we've smelled." 

Raditz nods in agreement. He doesn't want to say anything out loud about it, but it is really weird that Vegeta has gotten like this. Raditz has come back from brothels to flop down in a bunk in the same room as Vegeta. There's no way he smells even half as bad as those days.

Nappa glances down at Raditz' bleeding arm and frowns. 

"Be careful," he says. "One chomp on the neck and that girl is dead."

"Yes, sir."

"I mean it," he scowls. "We don't do that shit. Don't even go for the shoulder; she can't handle it, and it's disrespectful as hell. If I find out you've put your teeth on that girl—"

"Look who decided to finally show up!" 

Vegeta peers out of the ship to glare at Raditz. 

Raditz gives a nervous swallow. Oh, he's in for a world of pain, today. This is probably going to be the worst one, yet. 

"I'm not gonna tell him," Nappa murmurs. "Don't give me a reason to."

"Yes, sir," Raditz says. 

He almost says that he appreciates it, but Vegeta is watching them with bleary eyes surrounded by dark circles. 

No, he needs to make sure nothing more is said. 

Raditz follows Nappa toward the ship and swallows his nervousness as best as he can. The closer he gets, the more apparent it becomes:

Vegeta looks awful. 

"Maybe you should spice things up," Vegeta grumbles. "Get a gag. Both of you."

Raditz looks down at the floor in fear. There's no telling how Vegeta will punish him, this time. 

He's fucked up badly. Raditz fucks everything up. 

What an intense morning. It's surprising and fortunate that you're not weak-kneed and trembling. 

It was everything you hoped for: passionate, frenzied kisses; huge strong hands all over you; the flehmen response, bare and uncovered; getting mounted and humped like an animal; the growling and chattering of teeth.

A man feeling so feral over you that he has to bite his own arm to keep from biting you when he comes. 

You know your body won't take rough sex like that again for a while. You're sore, sticky, and marked in both scent and sight. 

Goddamn. What a treat.

It's a shame that he was late for his training over it, though. What counts as an early start for you is very late for him. 

You're getting ready for a little outing to go horseback riding with Bulma, and the early start is helpful. There's time to take a long shower, do some stretching, and eat a nice breakfast. 

It's good that it's a cooler day today. You can wear long sleeves without anyone thinking something is amiss. 

Quite frankly, you look bad. You bruise easily— very, very easily.

You're covered in bites and hickeys. Bruises begin to form on your hips and upper arms, and, for Raditz' sake, you really hope they don't end up being hand-shaped. 

You don't feel like he was too rough, but, all too often, your body and mind have differing opinions on what's too much. 

You pull on a tank top, jeans, and a zippered hoodie. A pair of boots completes your outfit— all very practical for riding. 

Bulma asks for advice on what to wear, so you help her go through her closet and select the correct pair of boots for riding. 

She was going to wear sneakers, so you're very glad she asked. 

After a quick trip over to the stable, you and Bulma walk through the barn, accompanied an instructor. 

She's dressed for comfort and practicality, the same way you are. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun. Her face is covered with tiny freckles, and her gray-blue eyes are warm and friendly. 

Her name is Shanna, and she looks like a Shanna.

There's a lot of horses here you can choose to ride. While you know what you're doing with a horse, you want an easy, relaxing day. 

You and Bulma walk down the rows of stalls. Some horses call out. Others take a peek. Some cannot be bothered to look at the ruckus.

There's all sorts of horses here, each one lovely in their own way. 

Bulma gasps and stops in her tracks. You follow her line of sight, and your heart plummets. 

It's a chestnut Arabian, and judging by the pink, bedazzled halter next to the stall door, it's a mare. 

A chestnut Arabian mare. 

"That one," Bulma says. "I have to ride that one. She's so elegant!"

The mare tosses her head and Bulma laughs. 

"Oh, you're gorgeous and you know it," she says. 

You desperately hope that the owners and trainers of this horse don't assume the stereotypes about chestnut mares being crazy, and Arabians being high-strung. It's easy to get caught up in that sort of thing. 

The last thing Bulma needs is a chestnut Arabian mare acting like a stereotypical chestnut Arabian mare. She's never been on a horse before.

Shanna smiles. "If you like a chestnut, we have a lovely Quarter Horse gelding, too."

Ah. Red flag. 

Chestnut flag, really. 

"She might be a spicy girl," you warn. 

Bulma shrugs. "We match, then."

"She's spicy depending on the day," Shanna says. "Her name's Bella."

You nod slowly. "We've got helmets, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Good," you sigh. 

God forbid Bulma gets kicked off and hits her genius head.

Bulma is practically buzzing with excitement over her new gal pal. You really do hope it works out; the mare is stunning and probably moves beautifully, like most Arabians. 

You're not about that life, today. You already got quite a bit of spicy treatment this morning.

"Alright, you've gotta pick yours now," Bulma says. 

You look down the rows of stalls. 

A gigantic, dark brown horse peers out of one of the stalls close to the far end. There's a whole lot of hay in that mouth, and a whole lot of chewing going on. 

The horse looks gloriously lazy. 

"Who's this, eating second breakfast?" you ask, motioning toward the large, dark horse. 

Shanna laughs. "That's Moose. He's a Percheron, Quarter Horse cross. Gelding. We keep studs in another area."

You make your way down to him, and stop in front of the stall. 

"Those breeds are perfect," you murmur. 

Moose lowers his head so you can pet him, but keeps chewing. 

You reach over, stroke his forehead, and sigh. 

"Yep, this is my escort for the day," you say.

Shanna smiles. "He's got a bit more Perch to him. Trots like a dump truck."

You give him a scratch behind the ear and sigh. He's even good with his ears being messed with. 

"I love that for him," you say. "He's real chill with the ears, too."

She nods. "Yeah whoever trained him did a great job. I think he was probably born that way a bit, too."

You halter the horses, give them a quick brushing, then get them ready to ride. 

The difference between the two horses is comical. After you saddle up and start riding in the indoor arena, however, it becomes way less funny. 

Bulma doesn't know how to ride. Bella knows this. She does whatever the hell she wants; stops when she feels like it, goes when she feels like it. Shanna says that days like this are rare with Bella, and it's a little surprising.

It's fine enough until it isn't. Bella takes off like hell is on her heels, and Bulma falls off immediately. 

Shanna runs over to check on Bulma, who appears frustrated, but otherwise okay. You direct Moose over to her, while Shanna goes to catch Bella. 

You stop near Bulma, and she gives you a pleading look.

"Can we switch?" she asks.

Riding a spicy horse wasn't in your plan for today, but at this point, its warranted. 

Bulma rides a motorcycle like a bat out of hell. It isn't comparable to a horse, however; the bike doesn't have a mind of its own. 

You dismount and walk over to her with Moose barely keeping up as you lead him. 

At this point, Shanna has retrieved Bella, and she's ready to help with the swap. 

This is going to be a workout. You grab the zipper on your hoodie and prepare to take it off.

Oh. 

Shit. 

You sigh as you unzip it. 

"Okay, this might look bad," you say. "I promise that it's not. But I don't want anyone to get worried. I just bruise very easily and— yeah."

You slip your hoodie off, and go to hang it up on the nearby fence. 

Bulma gasps. "Girl, what did he do to you?"

You shrug and turn around, giving her a sheepish grin. 

"What didn't he do to me?" you counter. 

Looking down, you cringe as you see that the bruises have darkened. The ones on your upper arms vaguely resemble handprints, and you imagine that the ones on your hips definitely do. 

"I didn't tell him to stop," you clarify. "None of it bothered me. I was enjoying myself, actually. But, clearly, my body has a differing opinion."

Shanna stares with wide eyes. Walking over, Bulma pulls her phone out of her pocket, scrolls through it, then shows Shanna something on the screen. 

"That's a big guy," she says. "Dang, girl."

"I know, right?" Bulma giggles. 

She swipes to the next photo and Shanna's eyes get huge. 

"Dayum."

Bulma laughs. "I know, right?"

What? Does she have nudes of Raditz, or something?

Bulma looks at you and cackles. 

"Oh you don't have to be jealous," she says. "He's shirtless half the time because of training. Of course I have photos of the people who live in my own house!" 

You sigh and make your way over to a visibly irritated Bella. You'd hoped that it was possible to go at least one afternoon without talking about Raditz, but the bruises were going to out you, regardless of your readiness. 

You take the reins from Shanna and lead Bella toward the mounting block. 

"Alright, girl," you say. "Here's the deal; I'm not a pro. I'd consider myself a novice at best. But, let's see if we can like each other, okay? They all want you for your looks don't they?"

She tosses her head, and you're not sure if it's a coincidence or not.

"I'm going to do my best," you continue. "I'm going to try to be gentle on your mouth and all that. But, you've gotta help me help you."

You sigh as you stop in front of the mounting block. You're having a woman-to-woman talk with a horse. 

Well, that's not as weird as screwing an alien. 

You attempt to mount up, and Bella walks away. She does this repeatedly, and you bring her back each time until she does it the correct way. 

The rest of the hour continues like this with arguments and compromises, until the lesson is nearly over. 

In the meantime, Bulma has a grand time on Moose, except for getting him to actually move faster. Even then, she's a bit intimidated of the idea of going fast, given what Bella did. 

The lesson finishes, and you spend some time giving both horses a nice grooming. By the time you get back into the hoverplane, you're absolutely exhausted and aching all over. 

Knowing that a crash might be eminent, you decide to have dinner early before having a shower. 

It's a struggle to even eat; the fork feels heavy in your hand. 

You don't know how you make it through dinner, then a shower, without collapsing, but somehow, you manage.

Getting dressed, you manage to make your way to bed and finally collapse. 

Hours pass. You're exhausted, but you can't fall asleep.

Your pain won't let you. Instead, you exist in purgatory.

You can't have sex tonight. There's absolutely no way. You spend the next few hours thinking about how to deal with this.

Eventually, there's a knock on your door. You're tempted to call out that they can come in, but raising your voice feels impossible with how tired you are. 

You psych yourself up for a few seconds, before sitting up and sliding off of the bed with a moan. You're hyper-aware of the feeling of the carpet under your feet  —almost prickly— and the feeling of every single seam in your pajamas. 

Your entire body thrums with pain. The bottoms of your feet feel like they've been crushed. Your hands feel likewise, and they don't really want to move. The rest of you? 

It's an all-over pain, from your skin, all the way through your body. 

You feel like a piece of rotten fruit; bruised, weak skin, barely containing something utterly ruined underneath the surface. 

Other than some bruises from Raditz' enthusiastic kisses and handprints, you look completely fine. Even if he hadn't been rough with you this morning, you're absolutely certain that you'd feel this poorly. 

It's just a thing that happens.

You're not sure if you hope that it's Raditz at the door, or not. Steeling yourself, you quickly go over the conversation script that you mentally prepared a few hours ago: You're so sorry. It's not him. You don't feel well. You don't think you can tonight. He is welcome to stay, though, but under no obligation to do so. 

You place your hand on the doorknob and exhale as you open the door. You're prepared for rejection to the extent that it has become a foregone conclusion in your mind. You're so dismayed that you can't even look at him, and instead, look at the empty space behind him. Even then, his tail enters your line of sight as it unwraps from his waist.

His tail practically quivers with excitement, and he's more than just slightly aroused. You hate to have to disappoint him.

"Hey," you murmur. "I'm sorry. I don't think I can, tonight. I'm exhausted and in a lot of pain. Sorry."

His tail immediately droops.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks. 

Oh, shit. That's not in the script. 

"No, no," you insist. "Not at all. It's just one of those things."

You manage to look at him and see concern etched across his face.

"Do you know why?" He asks. 

You laugh. "Entropy, honey."

Raditz nods slowly. He still looks concerned, but now, appears to be a bit confused.

"I try to keep a sense of humor about it," you explain. "I find it easier to deal with, that way. It gets to me, sometimes, but I do my best." 

"And you're sure I didn't hurt you?" he questions. 

You nod. "I'm certain you didn't. I um— I really like your company, though, so you can stay, if you'd like. Sorry that I'm going to be a bit boring."

You glance up to see a faint blush across his cheeks. He gives you a quiet, shy, "sure" and the knot of anxiety in the pit of your stomach slowly unravels. Stepping back, you open the door to let him in, then close it behind him. 

He's looking you over and appears unsure as to what to do. 

"Where?" he asks. "Is it— do you— um, can I— do you— hug?"

Your heart melts and you shuffle forward with your arms outstretched. 

"Yes, hug good," you mumble. 

He barely touches you, but that's fine; your arms barely grip him, and you're mostly just leaning on him, face-first. 

His erection pokes you in the stomach. 

"Ignore that," he says. 

"You sure?" You ask. 

You're more than happy to get him off in some way, even if your hands feel like someone has stepped on them. You don't think a handie or whatever could hurt too much. 

"I'm sure," he says. 

"It's comfy here,"  you chuckle.

Well, it's comfy, other than the most lovely thing poking you in the stomach, with which you really wish to play. 

Still, Raditz doesn't want you to do anything with him while you're hurting this much. It isn't in your plans at all to actually have him stay with you; it's the exact opposite of what you expected.

Sighing, you turn toward the bed and begin to shuffle over. 

"I need to lie down," you say. "Standing is exhausting."

Clothing is uncomfortable, too, but you're not ready to share about that. 

Raditz puts a gentle arm at your back and helps guide you to bed. You're not a fall hazard, but it's so sweet that he's thinking of you and what you might need. 

After you get settled in, you turn to look at him and sigh. 

"Your brother's wrong about you," you say. 

He scoots closer, but he won't look at you. None of this makes sense, to you. Surely, he's not the monster everyone thinks he is.

"Have you talked to him at all?" you ask.

Raditz sighs. "No."

You hesitate to ask the next part, but you know you have to.

"Do you feel bad about what happened?" 

What you really want to ask is if he feels any remorse, but you can't bring yourself to say it. 

"It's complicated," he says. "But, yeah. I should have handled it differently. From what I gather, he won't believe me, even if I do apologize. Staying away is probably the most respectful thing I can do."

As much as you hate to admit it, you know he's right about that. 

Raditz has thoroughly fucked up any chance of having a meaningful relationship with his brother. You don't see any way he can fix it. 

"For what it's worth," you say, "I'm sorry to hear it turned out that way."

"I'll bear the consequences of my actions like a man."

You nod and close your eyes. The pain is so much that it's hard to concentrate. You can only ignore it for a short time, before it demands your attention. 

Raditz wraps his arm around you. His hand goes down to your arm. His touch is meant to be soothing, but his fingers feel like sandpaper. You flinch away from his hand.

Raditz looks like you've slapped him and told him to go to hell. 

"That hurts," you explain. 

"It hurts?"

You nod and feel your eyes fill with tears. Not wanting him to see you like this, you quickly turn away. 

"When I'm really bad," you say, "normal things can feel painful."

"How about this?"

You're about to tell him to stop whatever he's about to do, when a soft cascade of silky hair drapes across your arm. 

That—

That's actually pleasant. 

You curl up against him and grab more of his hair. 

He blankets you in his hair and gently wraps his tail around your leg. 

"So, you have a condition," he says. 

"Yes." 

Raditz looks like he doesn't quite know what to say. He bites his lip and looks off to the side. 

You know that this can be hard for people. It's probably especially hard for someone who grew up in a world where the slightest hint of weakness or compassion was looked on as failure. 

"You can ask me anything," you say. "I'll answer as honestly as I can."

Raditz nods and exhales. 

"I hurt you," he says. 

He stares into your eyes, as if uttering a silent plea. 

You shake your head. "No. Sometimes, it does what it wants to, no matter what I do. Other times, I willfully decide that I'm going to do things that I know could end up making me feel worse. I've been borrowing energy from the next day for almost an entire week. So, of course I'm crashing."

"So, I did hurt you," he murmurs. 

You sigh. "No, it's more like I hurt myself. It's on me to know my own limits and speak up. I haven't. Bulma and I are doing a lot, too, and I know I'm going to have to slow down."

You should have said no to riding Bella, and worked something else out, instead. Just because you could ride her didn't mean that you should have ridden her. If you did, you'd have more energy for him, tonight. 

"Why do you do it?" Raditz asks. 

"Because, there are some things worth hurting over,"  you say. 

The intense look he gives you is frightening. He looks at you as if he's in a desert, and you're the only water around.

An intense desire. A need. 

He runs his thumbs over your hands and stares intently into your eyes. 

It's that look again. What does he want? You can't comfortably have sex with him, right now. From where you lie next to him, he doesn't feel like he's aroused at all. 

If he doesn't want sex, what does he want? 

Why is he here? 

Why doesn't he leave you alone in your pain, like everyone else? 

Chapter Text

It's morning now, and if Raditz hadn't been on his phone for hours, he wouldn't know the time, other than it being late. The time of day is much more murky when it's raining so heavily. 

You're curled up next to him. It took you several hours to find a comfortable position, and even then, you twitched every so often and grunted in what Raditz assumed was pain. 

You've been still ever since the rain started. You look so peaceful and finally comfortable that he's afraid to move. He wants to caress your cheek, kiss your forehead, wrap his tail around you, nuzzle his face against your neck— 

He's going to ask how you're feeling before he lays a finger on you. The state you were in last night was concerning. He wonders how the hell you've managed to deal with this so long. 

In light of you and who you are, Raditz realizes that strength is far more nebulous of a thing than he thinks. Perhaps, he needs to reevaluate his definition of the word. 

There's something about you that has him all sorts of mixed up and bashful. Raditz is thirty, and from his life of violence and suffering, feels like he's lived decades longer. He's too old for this.

He's very uncomfortable with the fact that he's content to forego sex altogether and curl up next to you in bed.

Regardless of the nature of your relationship, Raditz is not gonna let himself look stupid. He reads about everything he can, to avoid getting mocked for being ignorant. If he can't be the strongest of the Saiyans, he's going to be the smartest. 

Well, except Vegeta. He's the smartest. He's the best at everything, to be honest. Raditz tries to keep up with Vegeta's brain and only half-succeeds.

Looking up the McGill Pain Index that you joked about a few days ago is enlightening, to say the least. It's also moderately horrifying. Your condition is on there. 

He has a lot of experience with injuries. His relative experience of your pain versus the pain he knows is shocking. He's not sure if the coordinating level to your condition is an all the time thing, or if it describes your bad days. He really hopes it's the second one. The index says your pain can hurt more than a broken bone, and the idea of that kind of pain coming out of nowhere is scary. 

The idea that you push yourself into that sort of pain if you really want to do something is utter madness.

Raditz asks about your condition on various platforms, and reads about it extensively while you're asleep. He goes into the subreddit for said condition, and from what he sees there, he is almost certain that he did hurt you somehow, and you're lying to save his feelings. 

It amazes him that you have that much endurance, to begin with. It's clear, though, that your body's personal timer went off on you, and you weren't expecting it. It's odd how he can simultaneously loathe and adore your body. 

Maybe, the Dragon Balls can fix it. 

Raditz closes his eyes and immediately nixes the idea. He will never have enough clout with these people to be entrusted with the Dragon Balls. 

And, given that Capsule Corp donates millions to various nonprofits dedicated toward your severely under-researched condition, he suspects that Bulma is doing all she can on her end. 

Raditz is no stranger to feeling impotent, but this particular powerlessness cuts as deeply as the news that his home planet was destroyed. 

The intensity of these feelings disturbs him. He shoves them aside quickly. 

You grunt and stir in bed.

Raditz realizes that he's still got all those tabs about your illness open on his phone, and the screen is on. You catching on to his stupidity is one of the worst things he can imagine.

He quickly turns the screen off, whips his shirt off, balls the phone up in the shirt, and tosses them to the floor. 

With his heart hammering in his chest, Raditz turns a wary eye toward you and realizes you're still asleep. 

Things are getting a little complicated for his tastes. This is supposed to be just a bit of fun. 

When you eventually find out more about him —when, not if— he's sure you'll tell him to fuck off. 

He's already uncomfortable with how you told him to stop touching you last night. Sure, you can feel inappropriate pain signals from something that doesn't hurt, but—

That doesn't apply to him. 

You've met Kakarot and his son. You like them. You know exactly what Raditz did to them. Raditz has nothing to offer to you to counter any of that. 

He closes his eyes. His time with you is coming to an end soon.

You're confident. You don't need him. 

Even if you can overlook his history in the PTO, there's a slew of other things about him that will turn you off. 

Like the fact that the only thing keeping him from getting fucking wasted is Vegeta's sudden enforcement of rules they never had before. As far as Raditz can tell, you don't do any of that shit. Sure, a little drink here and there, but he hasn't seen you plastered.

He's itching to feel numb for a brief moment. 

You don't need to numb up. You don't need reassurance. You know how to touch yourself and don't need sex. 

You don't need Raditz.

A soft knock at the door breaks him out of his circling thoughts. It's quiet enough that Raditz can hear it, but he's certain that you can't. 

It must be Nappa. He's surprised that they're actually getting him to come train. 

Raditz slides out of bed, makes his way over to the door, and opens it. 

Sure enough, it's Nappa, and he looks more serious than usual. 

"You're done," he says. "Vegeta doesn't want you back in the GR."

Raditz' heart drops to the pit of his stomach. They don't want him— again.

"Not showing up today did it,"  Nappa says. "Yesterday had you on very shaky terms already. You're not welcome to train with us anymore."

He's not sure what look he has on his face, but Nappa's expression softens.

"Look, you know I can't do anything about it," Nappa sighs. "You know how he is."

"I— I know."

"I'm gonna try to talk some sense into him," he grumbles, "But I know he ain't gonna let you in that gravity chamber at all, probably for at least the rest of the week."

"Okay."

Nappa sighs, shakes his head, and looks at the floor.

"Listen, I ain't good at this shit," he says. "I'm tough on ya because you've got potential. You were born outside of your parents' class and tested well. You've just got to focus more and try a bit harder."

"Yes, sir."

"And hey," he chuckles. "You might as well stay in bed with your girl all day. Getting that outta your system might help."

"She's not feeling well."

"Shit. You get her pregnant already?"

"No. She's just not feeling well."

"Probably wore her out," Nappa says. "Advice from an old man: ease up a bit and be gentle. Use your hands for something other than ass-grabbing, eh? She'll warm back up real fast."

"Nappa, I know what I'm doing."

Nappa waves his hands and shakes his head. "Fine, fine. I'm gonna head out. I'll let'cha know if I can get Vegeta to let you back in. Mind your teeth with the girl."

As Nappa turns to leave, Raditz glances at his shirt on the floor and sighs. 

"Hey," he says.

Nappa pauses. 

Raditz goes over to the shirt and removes his phone. 

"Can you put this in my room on the charger?" he asks. "I don't want it to wake her up."

A rare, soft smile makes its way to Nappa's face. "Sure, kid. Get some rest. Heh. You ain't been sleeping lately, either."

With that, Nappa leaves. 

Raditz shuts the door as quietly as he can and draws in a shuddering breath.

Fuck. 

They don't want him. 

Now what? 

Raditz turns to see you sleeping peacefully and wonders if he ought to leave. You probably don't want him bothering you, and it's a miracle that he hasn't disturbed your sleep, yet. 

Selfishly, he makes his way back to bed and slides under the covers. To his shame, he wraps his arms and tail around you, knowing it might hurt you— at least, that's what you say.

You grumble in your sleep and push against him. 

Your subconscious doesn't want him. It's very clear. 

Still, Raditz is needy and selfish. He holds you until you stop pushing and settle in his embrace. 

Does anyone want him?

He doesn't see why anyone would. Raditz doesn't want himself, either. 

As you wake, the first thing you notice is an unbearable, stifling heat. Sweat covers your body, collecting under your arms, your elbows, the backs of your knees— anywhere skin touches skin.

And, to that end, your back is drenched from the normally welcome muscular chest pressed against you. 

You're desperately hot and sweaty. 

Your eyes open and you gasp for air, struggling against the arms wrapped around you. 

Raditz holds you tighter in a misguided attempt to comfort you. 

"Hun," you pant, "I'm hot. Let go." 

He stiffens, then slowly unwraps his arms from you. 

You sit up as fast as you can and toss the covers off. Its not enough cool air, though, and you whip your pajamas off in a frenzy. 

A wave of dizziness hits you. As your vision blackens around the edges and your pulse skyrockets, you realize that sitting up quickly after being down for so long is dumb. 

Raditz is saying something, but your mind can't register the words. 

You flop back down on the bed, clench your muscles, and hold your legs up in the air.

After a few seconds, your vision returns to normal, and you glance over to see Raditz staring in what seems to be panic. 

This probably looks like a medical emergency to a normal person. 

"I'm okay. Just sat up too fast," you explain. 

He nods slowly, scoots over to your legs, and sits down so you can prop them up against him. You gather your wits, and after a minute or so, you're able to piece together a coherent sentence.

"Propping the legs up can help getting the blood back down to the heart and brain," you say. "Same with lying back down."

He gives you that look again— those soft, puppy eyes. You're about to ask him what he wants, when you finally recognize that your pain hasn't lessened from last night. 

It's a relentless, full-body throbbing, like a bad bruise that has gotten bumped, but continuously. You can't help but curl in on yourself, and even as you scoot to carefully sit up, you curl up in a tight ball. 

"Hurts," you murmur. 

A chill runs down your spine. It hasn't taken more than a few minutes for the sweat on your body to dry, and now, you're cold. 

You chuckle to yourself. 

"Ah figures that I'm cold now," you sigh. "Snuggles, please?"

Raditz is quickly by your side and wraps his arms around you. 

"Does your skin hurt?" he asks. 

You shake your head. "Thankfully, no. The pain feels like it's deep inside."

Curling up against him, you nuzzle your face against his chest. You're not sure when he took his shirt off, but you're certainly not going to complain about that. 

"You're so warm," you murmur. "I'm just gonna bask here for a bit."

The sexy, shirtless monkey man wrapping his muscular arms around you and the pecs you're using as a pillow turn a terrible morning into a teriffic one. 

You want to grope those pecs, scratch his chest, nip at his biceps, and pull his hair tie and let it snap back against his arm. 

It would be a horrible tease, though; you feel godawful. So, you snuggle close in silence and fight off the intrusive thoughts. 

His tail snakes between you and wraps around your arm. You can't help but stare at it; you haven't seen anything like it before, and it is so shiny and soft against your skin. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Raditz breaks the silence. 

"I'm surprised you haven't asked to touch my tail, yet," he says. 

You furrow your brow in confusion and look up at him.

"Why would I?" You say. "That's your boundary, and I respect it."

He nods slowly. 

"Do you want to touch it?" Raditz asks. 

You shrug. "Only if you want me to touch it."

Raditz looks hurt. 

"Do you not like it?" he asks, unwinding his tail from your arm. 

You're really confused, now. You can't think of a time you've ever indicated such a thing. 

"I do like it," you say. "I just don't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable."

"You can touch it," he says. "I trust you not to hurt me."

Knowing that his tail can be a source of pain, you decide to reach out and gently stroke it. God knows that you understand having hypersensitive body parts. 

Raditz closes his eyes. You watch him closely for any signs of pain, but he seems relaxed. 

You ever-so-softly add your nails to your touch, and he shudders. But, so far, he doesn't seem to be in pain. Deciding that you don't want to use too much more pressure, you instead explore the length of it.

The fur is a soft, glossy black. You don't see a bare patch toward the end like a howler monkey, or a spider monkey. In fact, the tip of his tail has an ever-so-slightly denser amount of fur, giving it a small tuft. 

You know it's strong; he uses it to lift your limbs. He also uses it to touch and caress. You prefer for him to use his hand if he's trying to get you off. The tail honestly feels like a makeup brush, which isn't really sexy against your clit. You don't hate it, though, so you decide to keep quiet about it. 

Raditz is so, so sensitive. Sharing your preference would probably hurt his feelings deeply, and it's not worth it. The tail is acceptable enough to get you off.

You gently stroke your way further up his tail. Closer up toward his body, there's a patch of fur that is more coarse, and less densely-packed than anywhere else on his tail. You touch around it, but never on it, just in case it's a sensitive spot.

Your best guess is that it's a violet gland. Canids have these. You can't think of any primate that has them, but, it really doesn't matter, given that he's from an entirely different planet. 

The fur on his tail fluffs up in response to your touch. You're not sure exactly what you're making him feel, but his nervous system is alert. 

"So, what's this patch here?" You ask, gently touching around the edge of it. 

Raditz blinks, but his eyes don't open completely. He seems very comfortable.

"Caudal gland," he says.

Okay. Yeah that's a violet gland, basically. 

Maybe. 

"What's it do?" You ask. 

He shrugs. "Dunno. It just smells like me, but extra concentrated. It's the first part of the tail that fluffs up, but I couldn't tell you why." 

"Not sure why it fluffs up, either," he continues. "It's not exactly like goosebumps. The fur stands up when I feel anything extra, I guess."

You nod slowly. The best equivalent you can think of is a dog's fur standing up when it feels arousal —a heightened level of responsiveness. 

Still, that doesn't answer much. 

It hits you that Raditz doesn't understand the way his own body works. 

"I was five when Frieza blew up our planet," he says. "Nappa had to teach us everything. He's a military man, not a teacher. And he's definitely no doctor. He tried, though. He tried really hard." 

Raditz sighs and the fur on his tail flattens some. 

"I wish I knew more," he murmurs. "Not knowing stuff has been so confusing." 

You think about the rampant lack of sex ed on Earth, and conclude that what Raditz has experienced is probably far worse. He probably can't get the info he wants. Hell, he's probably searched for it. 

You continue to gently stroke his tail, reveling in the soft fur beneath your fingertips. 

Raditz grunts and shifts in his seat. Are you bothering him? Maybe it's too much.

A glance down to his lap reveals his thick erection down the right leg of his sweats. Your body feels like you've fallen down a flight of stairs, but—

You want to play with him a bit. He is your first lover. His body fascinates you to no end. His penis —another first for you— is likewise fascinating. And it is right there, waiting for you. 

Keeping one hand on his tail, you move the other to the front to gently grasp his erection. 

Raditz gasps and his eyes shoot open. 

"You don't have to—"

"But I want to," you say. "Can you come out to play? Pleeeeasseee?"

His face flushes bright red. 

You bite your lip and giggle.

"Pweese?" You coo, scratching your nails along his tail.

His pants are down so fast that his erection smacks against stomach with a dull thwap. 

"Aww, there he is," you chuckle. "Hey, buddy." 

You wrap your hand around his cock and start to gently stroke. The way his foreskin glides over his shaft is very interesting. 

Raditz' face is impossibly red. Everything about him right now is a feast for the eyes. 

"Who are you right now?" He squeaks. 

"I'm a good girl," you say, "touching my big, strong guy."

"Fuck," he gasps. 

A bead of precum forms at the tip of his cock. You make your strokes smaller to keep his foreskin from touching it and watch as the bead turns into a droplet. You give his tail a light scratch and watch in fascination as the droplet turns into a dribble. 

You love how easily you can turn him on. Hm. Is his tail part of that? Because he seems like he's almost ready to go off— at least, you think so; you haven't seen him cum outside of you all that much. 

Another scratch of his tail turns the dribble into a trickle. The tail has to be part of it. 

That could partially explain why he doesn't want people to touch it. Does that mean you're special? 

The power trip goes to your head, and you decide to do everything that you're capable of doing right now that turns him on.

In the name of science, you scratch his tail again.

You stroke his cock upward, run your thumb over his head to get some of the precum, and pause with your thumb against his frenulum. A bit of lubricant is appropriate for this situation, right? On a hunch, you massage it like you would your clit. 

Raditz groans and leans back in bed, his head banging against the headboard. 

You think you're on to something, here. Still, you get too curious and want to see him cum. You roll your palm over the tip of his cock, smearing the precum over your palm in the process. 

As you lightly scratch the fur on his tail, you grasp his cock and pump him with quick, short strokes. You put your face against his chest and prepare yourself for a sneak attack. 

"All those muscles on your stomach," you purr. "The only thing that would make them look better is a bunch of cum." 

You punctuate your sentence by flicking your tongue over his nipple, then giving it a sharp nip. 

And he does cum. 

Loudly. 

You watch intently as his cock twitches in your hand. With each upward twitch, he spurts. But, it's not just his cock twitching; his whole pelvic floor clenches in rhythm. Even as the spurts slow to a trickle, then to nothing, he still throbs in your hand.

Fascinating. 

You're so caught up in watching that you fail to notice Raditz squirming until he whines and wraps his tail around your arm. 

A cacophony of cursing pours from his mouth as you continue to stroke him. He trembles beneath your hand, and while you love watching him squirm from the overstimulation, this isn't something you've discussed before. 

You let go and he thrusts against the air, giving you the impression that, perhaps, he might have liked what you were doing. 

If there were anything on earth capable of keeping him restrained, you'd love to tie him down and play with —torture, really— his extremely sensitive nipples and all the rest of him.

He might let you.

You sit back in bed and sigh.

Well, shit. You're really turned on right now, despite the full body pain, and you've got a dick that won't quit ready for you. 

Sighing again, you glance toward your pill bag next to your phone on the nightstand. You have meds for breakthrough pain, but—

Your relationship with them is complicated. You're careful with them. You keep a record of how much and when you take them, in both your phone and on a note card in your pill bag. 

Your doctor trusts you with this medication. Your pharmacy is always supportive and caring. They know you and treat you well.

You do everything right with your pain meds. You never, ever drink alcohol with them. 

You're not sure why, but taking them sometimes makes you feel like you've done something bad. 

Today is one of those days. 

Defeated, you grab a tissue and wipe your hand. You then reach for your bag, unzip it, and look at your medication log. 

It has been eight days since you last took these meds. You probably should have had some after you arrived at Capsule Corp, and, last night at a minimum, but well—

It all goes back to that inappropriate sense of shame.

You look at your phone and note the day and time in your medication log, and the quantity you're about to take. A paper medication log is a bit old-fashioned, but it helps to have the log right next to the bottle, so you can easily make sense of things if your pain makes it hard to think. 

You remove the meds from the bag, fighting a little with the childproof cap until you finally succeed in getting the bottle open. Counting out the correct dose of meds, you bring your trembling hand to your mouth, drop the pills in, and take a quick swig of water from the bottle on the nightstand. 

You quickly toss your morning meds in your mouth and take those as well, before you have the chance to forget them. 

"Takes thirty minutes to an hour," you murmur. 

"What does?" Raditz asks. 

You give a short laugh as you realize that you haven't explained what you're doing. 

"Pain meds," you say. "I write down when and how much I take of them. It's safer that way."

You put your meds away and place the water bottle back onto the nightstand. Sitting back down, you huff at the wet sensation between your legs. Raditz' still present erection draws your attention once again. 

"Well, I've created quite a predicament for us," you sigh. "Is there anything we can do where I don't have to move or bend much?"

Raditz looks at you in thought. 

"Can you lay on your stomach?" He asks. "Just flat. You don't have to do anything with your legs." 

Your preferred position right now is curled up in a ball, but being flat will help your muscles stretch out a little. Removing what little clothes remain on your body, you lie down prone and cradle your chin in your hands.

"Perfect, yes," Raditz says. 

He settles behind you, then runs a hand down your back and gently slides his fingers between your legs. He takes a moment to spread your wetness around.

The bed shifts as he takes a position behind you, straddling your thighs. It takes him a moment to find your entrance, but eventually, you feel him press inside you. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him thrust inside you.

Sighing, Raditz closes his eyes and leans back. 

The way he moves his hips reminds you of how you've watched women on top— a slow, sensual undulating. 

It's absolutely mesmerizing.

"I wish you could see how you look right now," you say.

"I have a pretty good idea," he chuckles, giving you a wink. 

He smirks and tosses his hair as he rolls his hips; he's definitely putting on a show.

You watch him until your neck hurts. Wincing, you rub the back of your neck and lie completely flat and face-down on the mattress.

Raditz stops for a moment, shifts, then begins thrusting faster and harder. He softly trails his lips and tongue over your back, shoulders, and neck, paying extra attention to the places he bruised yesterday. 

His hand snakes under your hips and he presses a finger against your clit. You're so worked up that it doesn't take much to send you over the edge. 

Whining, you open your legs a little wider and push your hips back against him. For a moment, the pleasure he wrings from your body overrides the ever-present pain. 

Raditz sighs and thrusts slowly as you clench around him. 

After your orgasm fades away, your hips drop back to the bed, accidentally withdrawing him from your body. 

Raditz runs a soothing hand down your back. 

"Let's take this to the shower," he suggests. "Heat will help, right?"

It does. When you're sore like this, a hot bath or shower can really help, if you have the energy to drag yourself into one. Sometimes, the pain pins you in place until your meds kick in.

You roll over to look at him.  

"Wait, don't you have to train?" You ask. "Oh God. You're super late."

Raditz sighs and looks away.

"Vegeta kicked me out," he murmurs. 

Indignant rage burns through you. You're not sure what face you're making, but Raditz has those puppy eyes again. 

"I don't know why they feel the need to treat you so terribly," you scowl. "You're probably better off without them talking shit to you all the time."

He bites his lip then looks back to you. His expression quickly changes to a roguish grin. 

"There's something way better we could be doing right now, rather than talking about them."

You snicker. "True."

Wordlessly, Raditz scoops you out of bed and takes you toward the bathroom, kissing you the entire way. 

Your meds slowly kick in, reducing your pain enough that you feel like you can move. 

You kiss long and slow in the shower, the steam of the water around you adding to the undeniably heated chemistry you have with each other. Raditz fucks you long and slow, kissing you as much as he can the entire time. 

You both orgasm with a low moan and a deeply satisfied sigh. 

Unnecessary though it is, he helps you wash in the shower and stops to gently massage your sore muscles. And, as you finish your shower, be bundles you up in a towel before the cold air can hit you. 

The kisses stop when you do your morning skincare routine, but it doesn't stop him from wrapping his arms around you and burying his face at the back of your neck. 

You feel his jaw quiver and his lips draw up behind you. The telltale smacking sound of him tasting air sends a shiver down your spine. 

With how lucky you've been with asking Raditz to have sex with you for the first time, you wonder if you should buy a lottery ticket. The odds seem similar, to you. 

He's everything you've fantisized about, and more. Raditz has lived on this planet long enough to know that he's far above average, though; you're sure he doesn't need to hear it from you.

If he walked into the rest of his life with the same confidence he has as a lover, he would be unstoppable. You're certain of it. 

You get dressed, and he quickly leaves to go get a shirt. As soon as he returns, Raditz is on you again. He wraps a blanket around you as he holds you close to his chest. 

You grab your phone, and he wraps his arms around you. Lifting you up, he carries you from the bedroom in a bundle. 

You're a grown-ass adult, but there's something really nice about being carried around. You're special and you deserve this nice treatment, especially after having such a rotten flare. 

To be honest, were it not for Raditz carrying you down the hall, you'd probably slowly shuffle your way toward the couch. You're still not in the best shape. 

As soon as Raditz enters the living room with you in his arms, Bulma looks at you in concern. 

"Are you okay?" She asks. 

You stop to think about her question for a moment. Bulma knows plenty about your condition. 

Right. She's probably asking if there's anything acute or troubling, since you're being carried. 

"I'm okay," you answer. "I felt pretty bad earlier but had some meds. Also, a really bad POTS attack." 

Bulma nods. "Do you need the salt shaker?"

From behind the open fridge door, you hear Yamcha rummaging around. 

"What's the salt shaker for?" he asks. 

"Electrolytes," you say. "I dunno, I just take an electrolyte mix. I've heard of POTS people pouring a bit of salt in their hand and eating it. No clue how much it helps, if at all. Some people take literal salt pills."

You finally end up in Yamcha's peripheral vision, as Raditz takes you over to the couch. 

Raditz sits and pulls you and your blanket into his lap. You arrange the blanket in such a way that it's covering both of you from the front; you want to be warm, but you also want body contact without a blanket in the way.

Yamcha steps over to the coffee maker and pours two cups of coffee. 

"You're not training today, Raditz?" he asks. 

Raditz looks down at the floor. "Vegeta kicked me out."

Bulma rolls her eyes, crosses her arms, and huffs. 

"What an ass," she says. 

You want to hug him, but you're not sure how he feels about that sort of thing in front of others. It already surprises you that he is fine with tucking you in a blanket, carrying you into a room, and letting you sit on his lap like he's a gigantic body pillow. 

"I'm holding them back, anyway," Raditz says. "I'm too weak to keep up."

Yamcha shakes his head and listens to Bulma's directions on how to prepare the coffee. "Your power has grown a lot, man. You should give yourself more credit."

"I don't really know," Raditz admits.

"You can't sense energy yet?" Yamcha asks.

Raditz shakes his head. He looks even more embarrassed.

Yamcha grins and turns to face him head-on.

"Well," he says, "you are more than twice as powerful as Vegeta was when he first came here."

Raditz' jaw drops. "No shit? That's around thirty-thousand."

"Shit you not," Yamcha says. "I've got zero reason to lie about it."

Raditz' happy expression is fleeting. 

"It's still not enough," he murmurs. 

Yamcha gives him a sad smile. "Listen, man, you could be a Super Saiyan, and it still wouldn't be enough for Vegeta. Guys like him seem to have this need to put people down. There's nothing wrong with you; he's the one with the problem."

Raditz shrugs. He doesn't seem to be buying it. Yamcha is completely correct, though. 

"You're probably getting stronger despite his methods," Yamcha says. "Are you actually training, or are they just picking on you all day?"

Raditz' silence says everything. 

"Just hang out with us today," Yamcha says. "You've got a hell of a lot of endurance, as a Saiyan, but even if the body isn't tired, the mind can always use a day off every so often."

Though Bulma says that Yamcha is a bit clueless about people, you're struck by his thoughtfulness and sensitivity. 

Then again, maybe this is personal. Given the amount of times you've heard people roast Yamcha, perhaps he understands what Raditz is going through. 

It's a pleasant surprise when the coffees that Yamcha has in his hands are for you and Raditz. Leave it to Bulma to remember how people like their coffee. Leave it to Yamcha to make it up real nice and hand it over with a smile. 

It's sweet. It's a shame that they broke up, but you can see that the disconnects between them make them better friends than lovers. 

As you sip your coffee, Bulma and Yamcha take up seats opposite to you. It's really late in the morning; Bulma looks like she's had her first cup of coffee and her shower already. That's probably a good thing, though, since she carries a conversation very well when she's actually awake.

"So, if I'm sore from riding," Bulma says, "you've got to be really sore. I wish I knew how much work it really was. I might not have suggested it, had I known."

You shrug. "I knew what I was getting into, and if I couldn't, I definitely would have said something. But, I probably should have just let you ride Moose and stayed off of Bella."

Bulma takes a gulp of her coffee and shakes her head. 

"Yeah, what was going on with that?" Yamcha asks. "Bulma came back covered in dirt. She was grumbling and wouldn't talk about it." 

She shoots him a glare that makes him shrink in his seat. 

You chuckle and take a sip of your coffee as Raditz wraps his tail around your arm under the blanket. 

"It happens to everyone, Bulma," you say. "Maybe not on the first time, but eventually, it happens to everyone."

Yamcha nods slowly. "Did you fall off?" 

Bulma frowns, puts her coffee down, and crosses her arms. 

"Let's not get it twisted," she huffs. "I did not fall off; I was kicked off. Falling off would imply that I did something. I was kicked off, which implies that I was not the responsible party."

You burst out in laughter. 

"I think you probably had a mutual disagreement," you say. 

You can't bring yourself to be completely honest; it is almost always the human's fault for missing the horse's signals or doing something wrong.

Bulma sighs. "Okay, I'll take half the blame. It was a nightmare, though. And it seemed like you were trying to talk me out of riding her, so that made me just double down."

"Yeah, you were trying to ride the sports car of the horse world,"  you say. 

Bulma sighs again. "Well, you had her under control."

You shake your head and laugh.

"Barely," you say. "I was sore all over at the end. I'd love another chance on a higher energy day. She pushed me to be more aware of what I was doing."

"How did you know which one to pick?" she asks. "Moose was such a sweetheart."

You chuckle. "The bigger ones are almost always sweet and gentle when they need to be. They're almost always better than the little, fiery ones."

Under the blanket, you give Raditz' thigh a pat. His tail squeezes your arm tighter. 

Bulma sighs. "Even after she kicked me off, I liked her. I guess I'm drawn to that personality."

You feel Raditz barely suppress a chuckle behind you, and you wonder if he's caught on to the weirdness between Vegeta and Bulma. 

There's no way he hasn't, right? He's known Vegeta for most of his life. 

"What's a gelding, by the way?" Bulma asks. 

"Oh, that's a castrated male," you say. "They're generally really calm. I've ridden a stud before, though. It's not too bad if they're properly socialized."

Bulma snickers. "Oh, you have?" 

You sigh and shake your head. You walked right into that one. 

Behind you, Raditz shakes with laughter that he's trying to hold in. Feeling vindictive, you gently scratch his tail under the blanket. 

His laughter cuts off with a grunt. 

He's been quiet this whole time, and you quickly realize that he probably doesn't know what you're talking about. You put your coffee down on the table to the side of the couch. Unlocking your phone, you search for photos of chestnut Arabians and show him the screen. 

You point out one of the less extreme-looking horses. 

"She looked a bit like that," you say. "Thank God she wasn't one of those weird-faced ones."

"What do you mean?" Yamcha asks. 

"Oh, the ones with the extreme face shapes tend to be crazy as hell. They're bred for looks over having a sound mind." 

Bulma grimaces and takes another sip of her coffee. 

"They get crazier?" she asks. 

You nod. "Horses suffer from the same bad breeding practices that have messed up some dog breeds."

You search for images of a Percheron-Quarter Horse cross, and quickly find dozens that look like Moose. Raditz hunches over, rests his chin on top of your head, and peers down at your phone. 

"The one I picked is more like these," you say. "It's a more general-purpose or working horse." 

You swallow the lump in your throat and close the tab as you realize that unlike the dozens of stock photos of the Arabian, the photos of this horse type are almost all auction photos. If you think about it too much, you'll get upset, and getting upset means more stress. 

More stress means more pain, and you're already upset about how Raditz has been discarded by the people he's known his entire life—

Dumped when he's worn out his use, just like an auction horse. 

You put your phone down and pick your coffee back up. 

It surprises you when Raditz buries his face against the back of your neck. To be so openly affectionate with you in front of others is shocking. You feel his mouth against your skin, and realize that his upper lip is drawn up. 

Can he not control the flehmen response?

There's a brief flash of recognition on both Bulma and Yamcha's faces, but thankfully, they don't gawk.

"Moose was so nice," Bulma says. "You looked like you were having fun with your ride, so, I wanted to have some fun, too."

There's a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. You don't know if she's caught on to your upset, Raditz' seemingly involuntary sniffing of your neck, or if this is just Bulma being Bulma. Regardless, it's a welcome distraction. 

"I've got great taste," you crow. "But, I do think that if you kept trying, you'd get somewhere with the other one."

Bulma shakes her head and takes another sip of her coffee. The moment with Raditz passes and he sits back up. 

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Yamcha says. "Getting kicked off seems dangerous, even if you are wearing safety gear. At best, you're gonna come out of it covered in dirt and feeling bad."

Oh, shit. 

He has caught on to Vegeta's staring, and he clearly doesn't like it. 

You chuckle. "It could be fine. Besides, I have dibs on the other one."

You go to pat Raditz' thigh, and—

Shit. That's not his thigh. 

You move your hand away from his erection and put it back on your lap. The tail wrapped around your arm gently squeezes, but you're not certain what he means by the action. 

You're going to assume that it's a cuddle boner, or maybe something from your scent causing it.

"I know you have dibs," Bulma says. "I also know that you know that I will say the damnedest things, including joking about riding your horse."

"You know he's literally right here," Yamcha says. 

You and Raditz burst out in laughter. 

"No, I had no clue," you chuckle. 

He shifts behind you, his erection rubbing against your hip.  

"Bulma, when did you get this heated couch?" you ask.

She laughs. "It's been here a while. I could have sworn you noticed it the very day you got here."

"Oh, I did," you say. "I had to have a seat as soon as possible."

You feel him twitch and throb against your hip and realize that things need to cool off before you end up dragging each other back to the bedroom. 

"I don't know horses at all," Raditz says. "I will say, though, that even if the little one doesn't kick you off, it's still going to be the same animal with the same attitude."

Okay, so that's two against Bulma and Vegeta. And though Yamcha seems like he cares a lot, Raditz knows Vegeta better, and you put a lot of weight on his opinion. 

Bulma shakes her head. "Okay guys, it's not that serious. You know how I am about joking around."

"Besides," you say, "this isn't anyone we're talking about. This is Bulma Fucking Briefs."

She grins and nods. "You're damn right." 

You two share a laugh, but, you quickly notice something: 

Neither Raditz nor Yamcha are laughing. 

Chapter Text

Goku feels old. By Gohan's math, and what Dad's scouter says, he's thirty-one. 

That's not old, even by human standards. As a Saiyan, his adult life is just beginning. 

But, his heart feels old. It's not the virus, though. It's a different part of his heart—

The part of his heart that races when he sees Chi-Chi with her hair down. 

The part of his heart that wants to burst when Gohan hugs him. 

The part of his heart that feels full when he meditates next to Piccolo. 

The part of his heart that warms when he's with his friends and sharing a laugh.

This part of his heart feels old when he thinks about Raditz. He doesn't want to think about him, but the power spikes from him at all hours of the day today have Goku on edge. 

Bulma's friend has a kind, soft soul that reminds him painfully of Gohan. Her energy signature is so low next to the other low energies around it that it's easier to identify it by its unique color. 

It's a prism, just like Gohan's. Maybe that's why Goku worries about her, but that's not all of it. She's a good person, plain and simple.

Goku feels like he's still learning how to be a Dad, let alone a husband. He doesn't know how to be a son, especially to a Dad who is six years younger. 

He's pretty sure, though, that Dad's heart feels very old. It's a sad thing to have in common.

Dad probably feels old, too, when he thinks about Raditz. And he knows he thinks about him. A dad can't not think about his son.

And boy, he sure thinks bad of him. It's very obvious. Dad makes a face any time Mom mentions Raditz. He scowls. Other times, he clenches his jaw. Sometimes, it's just a little angry twitch of his face. No matter what it is, it's always an angry, hateful look. 

Mom acts funny around Dad about it, and though Goku isn't very great with people, he knows that there's some argument between them about it. 

Mom and Dad are off together, right now, perhaps arguing; he hears them in the middle of the night when they think everyone is asleep. Sometimes, they don't argue, though; sometimes, they just do married person things. But, most of the time, it's an argument.

Goku hopes they're not arguing, but it is nice, though, to take this time to be alone with Gohan, just the two of them. It's a beautiful day, and the perfect weather to rest a bit in between training. Calm moments and making sure the mind is prepared is an important part of training.

He looks over to Gohan and sighs. Instead of watching the clouds, he's looking right at Goku. He's obviously nervous. 

Goku thinks that Gohan needs these quiet moments the most out of all of them. 

"Hey bud, whatcha' thinking?" Goku asks. 

Gohan bites his lip and glances in the direction of Capsule Corp. 

"Why is Uncle Raditz' power level going crazy so much lately?" he asks.

Oh. 

Well, he's surprised this question hasn't come up until now. Gohan is painfully polite, though. 

Chi-Chi has said that Gohan is too young to know too many details about where babies come from. He knows that what he's seen the deer doing in the fall is also how people make babies, but that's about it.

They have the important parts down about what is a bad touch from an adult. Gohan knows how to keep himself and other kids safe, if he needs to. It's absolutely horrifying to Goku that this is a discussion that every kid needs to hear.

There isn't a handbook on how to be a Dad. Even if there is, Goku can barely read. 

Well, Goku makes his own way, and isn't about to quit doing that, now.

Gosh. 

Okay, he's got this.

"When people kiss," he says, "it can be exciting. So, that can make power levels go a bit crazy, especially if they're, um— very excited."

That's a good explanation for now, right?

Gohan looks like he's thinking about this, and eventually nods. It seems like Goku's answer satisfies his curiosity. 

Goku and Chi-Chi need to have a talk about telling Gohan more details. He's old enough to recognize that some smells from people are different. He needs to know what they are, what they mean, and that they are private.

Especially that last one. Yikes. 

In Goku's opinion, Gohan is old enough to learn all the details. It might help him feel less weird when his body starts changing, if he knows about it a few years in advance. 

"He must really like Miss Bulma's friend," Gohan says. "His power level's all over the place. But, she seems okay." 

Goku blinks in shock. "You can sense an energy that small in the middle of a big city?"

Gohan laughs and nods. "Yeah, it's no problem. Once I meet someone, they're easy to pick out of a crowd."

He has no clue how gifted he really is.

In a second, though, he gets that confused look on his face. Gohan thinks way too much. He's so much like Chi-Chi sometimes.

Sighing, Gohan looks away.

"Why do we forgive Mr. Vegeta, but not Uncle Raditz?"

This question is easier for Goku to answer. 

"I know it was hard to see what Frieza did to Vegeta," he says. "But, I'm sure you remember him crying. He's been beat up plenty of times before, so it wasn't all about that."

He sighs and shakes his head. Goku has seen a lot, but Vegeta's death is one of the most disturbing things he's ever seen. 

"He was crying because Frieza broke his spirit," Goku explains. "I think we all saw something in Vegeta that made him look, well, 'human' to us, in a way."

He knows that Vegeta will have a baby with Bulma. He knows that Vegeta is supposed to die defending Earth. And even then—

He knows there's good in Vegeta. He's seen it. Vegeta has saved Gohan's life, before. 

"Raditz had a chance," Goku says. "I trusted him, and he lied to me. I don't know if you remember it or not."

Gohan nods, but he doesn't look satisfied. 

"Has he really had a chance?" he asks. 

Goku sighs. It's a good point, and one he's been thinking of for a while. Still, he feels protective of his son. 

"Let's see what he does when the androids arrive," Goku says. "That sounds like a good chance, right?"

"He's not very strong," Gohan mumbles. "They're gonna kill him. I should be tough, but I'm gonna cry real hard when that happens. It's not really fair."

Oh, sweet boy. 

"It's okay to cry," Goku says. "You know, when I meditated on Yardrat, I cried a whole lot over Krillin, Vegeta, and Namek. Sometimes, you need to cry."

Gohan sniffles. "Will you cry over Uncle Raditz?"

He already has. He's cried in frustration. He's cried because of what might have been. He's cried over the unfairness of it all. He's cried from being deceived. He's cried big, ugly tears in Chi-Chi's arms about the older brother who loved him as much as a little boy could— the little boy whose spirit choked and died under Frieza's watch.

He's cried and his heart feels old. 

Goku sighs. 

"Yeah, son, I will."

The drinks do a lot to open him up; Raditz leans back in his seat, with his feet propped up on a chair across from him. His tail drapes over the side of the chair and lays on the floor. 

Between his tail, lounging around, and crazy amount of hair, Raditz reminds Yamcha more of a lion, than anything. 

It's so weird to him that people treat Raditz like such a loser. He's a really cool dude, at least, in Yamcha's opinion. He's certain that a lot of people on Earth would find him cool, too. 

Maybe, he's not cool out in space? That's not really fair, though. 

Well, Raditz is more than welcome to chill with him anytime. He's a cool dude.

Raditz shrugs. "Look, it wasn't really complicated. Power level is lower? Shoot 'em. Power level is higher? Get the fuck out."

"Wait, so you'd run away?" Yamcha asks. 

Raditz rolls his eyes. 

"Of course," he says. "I'm not going to get fucked up by natives just because some rich asshole wants to build a resort planet. Fuck 'em."

He brings his fingers up to his mouth, then sighs in frustration and puts his hand down. 

Yamcha sees Bulma do the same thing when she tries one of her many attempts to stop smoking. He wonders what kind of invisible smoke Raditz is craving, right now. 

It's absolutely wild to him that this is Goku's brother. They don't look a thing alike, for starters. Not only that, but Raditz cusses and talks shit like a thug.

It's surprising, though, that he doesn't talk about getting laid, or about what women are like out there in the galaxy. Raditz almost talks like he's a taken man. 

Maybe he is, and he's just not aware of that, yet. 

Yamcha thinks there's something more going on with you and Raditz. Realistically, though, a long distance relationship is hard to maintain, even if one person can literally fly to the other one. 

He thinks it's a good thing, though. Bulma says Raditz seems to have perked up quite a bit. Good sex with a beautiful woman will do that, but—

Yamcha swears there's more to it. You two look right together when you curl up on the couch in Raditz' lap. 

He's going to see if he can get Raditz to talk about you more, then talk to Bulma about it. He noticed Raditz doing the smelling thing against your neck. It made the guy look like a vampire for a sec, but remembering the photos of those animals doing it reminded him about it. It was crazy that he just did it in front of them, but maybe it isn't a that big of a deal. 

He can't help but notice, too, that Raditz cusses way less around you and doesn't talk about anything too violent. 

Yeah, Raditz is trying to leave a good impression by being polite with you.

Good. That's a very good start. It's how Yamcha started reforming. 

He hopes that Raditz makes friends along the way. One woman can't bear all of that. Goodness knows Bulma couldn't. Little Goku was a godsend to keep Yamcha in line. Maybe, Yamcha should be Raditz' Goku?

Yikes. Those are massive shoes to fill. 

He should probably call Krillin to come help.

Yamcha makes up his mind; he's going to ask Raditz if he wants to train with him. The guy has potential in all sorts of ways. 

And, it's a way they can hang out. Because, Raditz is cool.

Alright, well, there is no time like the present, and Yamcha is not good at sitting on things. If he doesn't act on his decisions immediately, the opportunity slips through his fingers.

"We could train together, you know," Yamcha says. "Want to learn some techniques?"

Raditz shrugs, and Yamcha isn't sure what it really means. 

"Think about it like this," Yamcha says. "I went from being way weaker than you, to as powerful as one of those Ginyu Force guys within one year of training. And, uh, none of my friends would really say I'm the best or most dedicated fighter. So you can definitely get somewhere?" 

Raditz looks hurt for a second before slapping a mask of rage over top of his expression. 

"You don't need to remind me that I'm weak, human," he scowls. 

Yamcha puts his hands up in defense. 

"No! No, no," he says. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound like that. What I meant is that you'll probably do really well, because you're a Saiyan. And, also, because I think genetically, there's got to be something special with your brother. Who knows! You were the stronger one to begin with, so maybe, you've got some crazy potential in there that you just need to unlock."

Raditz closes his eyes and sighs. 

"Now you're patronizing me."

Oh, he is not okay. People must be really mean to Raditz. 

"I'm being genuine," Yamcha says. "But, uh, I get it. You've been treated like garbage your whole life. Someone being nice comes off as really manipulative and suspicious. And I understand that you won't trust my words. That's okay."

"Just," Raditz sighs. "Don't pity train me."

Yamcha gives him a sad smile. "I know I'm going to be useless against these androids. If I can do anything, it's to help you realize your potential. Your brother's a Super Saiyan. I don't see why you can't— "

"It's more complicated than that," Raditz grumbles. "I don't think you understand— "

"Maybe, you don't understand," Yamcha says. "Maybe, neither of us do. But, we can't know if we don't try. If you can learn to sense energy, you might feel some interesting breakthroughs in analyzing peoples' energy and attacks."

Raditz looks skeptical.

Yamcha chuckles and shakes his head. 

"You didn't get as far as you did without having some serious skill," he says. 

Raditz sighs. "Pretty sure Nappa kept my ass alive more than anything. I owe him a lot."

Ah. There it is. There's a potential reason to keep training. 

Yamcha isn't going to mention you in all of this. It's too early, and honestly, Raditz doesn't need to impress you any more than he already has. 

You're visibly starry-eyed over Raditz. You're always looking at him and checking him out. And while Yamcha doesn't know the details, he knows Raditz is giving it to you as good as he gets. 

Thank Kami he doesn't know the details. He knows how Bulma is with her questions.

"So, Nappa taught you?" Yamcha asks. 

Raditz nods. "Yeah. Most of what I know is from him."

"Well," Yamcha says, "doesn't it honor his teaching to continue your learning? Just a thought."

"Yeah, that's true."

A silence falls over them, and Yamcha isn't sure what to say. He thinks that maybe, he should let it rest for a little bit and give Raditz some time to consider the idea.

It's a shame that Raditz doesn't see his own potential. He really doesn't believe in himself at all. 

He's a deeply hurt man. 

An explosion and a loud, mechanical groan make him stand up so fast that he knocks over his chair. Did the androids get here early somehow? Or, is someone else trying to destroy the world?

Yamcha sighs, though, when he figures out the cause of the noise: 

Vegeta broke the GR again. 

Well, there goes his fun afternoon with his new friend. There's going to be some sort of damage control, and Vegeta always gets his way. 

What a brat. 

Raditz watches as Bulma and Vegeta yell at each other.

He's still not allowed in the GR, and it's probably for the best; Vegeta broke it again, and gods only know how much it could have hurt Raditz.

Even with all the years he's been under thumb, Raditz has trouble keeping a neutral face while watching the pair fight. He's never seen anyone get away with so much shit with Vegeta, aside from Frieza. 

Even then, Frieza never screamed at him like this. 

Meanwhile, Nappa can't hide his shock. He doesn't appear angry, so much as he looks like he's standing in awe of the foolish little human screaming at Prince Vegeta.

“I have company!” Bulma shouts. “God forbid you actually try to keep the damn thing in one piece while I have a friend over!”

Vegeta scowls. “That is of no concern to me!”

“I know it isn't, because you're a selfish jerk! It's rude to ignore company!”

“Well, you're ignoring me! You're the rude one!”

Bulma stomps her foot and leans in closer to Vegeta.

“I'm giving you more attention than you deserve,” she hisses.

Vegeta narrows his eyes at her. “You want to die when the androids arrive? Because it sounds like you do.”

“We have Goku,” she huffs.

Raditz’ jaw drops. How is she going to get away with this?

Vegeta practically vibrates with rage.

“You forget something,” he scoffs. “I'm the killer, not him. I'll finish the job and get it right the first time, unlike how he failed to kill Frieza.”

Bulma turns her nose up at him.

“And none of you care to just hunt Gero down and murder him,” she says. “If I could, I'd shoot him on sight.”

Vegeta smirks. “I wonder if you have the guts to do it. Regardless, that's not the plan. Now, you need to do your job and fix—”

“Fuck you! I have company, goddammit!”

Vegeta rolls his eyes. “Raditz, make yourself useful and entertain the slut. That's about all you're good for, anyway.”

He reels back, his mouth still agape. His hookup with you is what made Vegeta cut him out of their training. And now, he's ordering Raditz to—

“She's not a slut!” Bulma screams.

A resounding slap follows soon after. Raditz and Nappa both swear under their breath.

Yamcha frowns and crosses his arms. "That's not cool, man. Don't talk about a lady like that."

A quick glare from Vegeta makes him wilt and step back. 

Vegeta's face is red with rage. He's got a murderous look on his face— one that Raditz knows all too well.

He's one irritant away from killing someone, consequences be damned.

“I—it's fine,” Raditz says. “I can um— I'll go.”

Nappa shakes his head.

“If that woman had black hair, I'd wonder if she was a Saiyan,” he mumbles.

Raditz turns his attention back to the arguing pair. 

“Don't tell me what to do with my men,” Vegeta scowls. 

“Oh, he's your man now?” Bulma snorts.

“He's always been my man!”

Bulma gets a cheeky grin and tires to hold in a laugh. Vegeta notices his mistake, and his face somehow grows redder by the second. 

Raditz feels his face heat up. Vegeta is undoubtedly thinking about the same thing, too:

A few too many drinks in a backwater part of the galaxy occupied by invertebrates. Stumbling through a door and falling onto a filthy, bare mattress. Clothes end up all over the room. They take turns fucking noisily like animals and bite each other wherever their mouths reach. The only soft thing between them is their tails twisting together. They wake up hung over, sore, and covered in blood, sweat, semen, and shame. 

This has played out at least a dozen times, perhaps more. Raditz might have a better count had they not tried to drink themselves into a stupor so frequently.

They are each others' longest running sexual partner, regardless of the amount of animosity between them. 

Vegeta's gaze meets his for the briefest of moments then flicks away. Bulma has absolutely no idea what she's stumbled into. 

“You know that's not what I meant!” Vegeta yells.

Bulma giggles and motions to Raditz. 

“Well, go on," she says, "my friend will be happy to borrow Vegeta's man.”

Against his better judgment, Raditz gives Vegeta a sassy look and winks as he walks by. 

“See ya later, sweetheart,” he snickers. 

If it weren't for Bulma being right there, Raditz is fairly sure he'd be unconscious and profusely bleeding. But, he's got a small victory with pushing the limits with Vegeta.

The whole thing is a moot point, anyway. The only way they're going to touch each other is if they're wasted, and he doesn't see that happening any time soon. This is probably the longest either one of them has been without substance in fifteen years. 

Well, okay. Mr. Briefs did give Raditz something delicious a few days ago, and he's had a little today. But he's much more measured with it than he ever has been. 

Regardless, they'd both want to top. It feels like power and control— something which neither of them have at this point in life. 

At least Raditz is honest with himself about that. He's a powerless sack of worthlessness and shame. He suspects Vegeta feels the same, but he's deeply in denial. 

He's ashamed that he didn't jump to your defense before Bulma did, or Yamcha. Honestly? He's fucking terrified of Vegeta, now more than ever. It's as if the things Kakarot did cracked his brain enough that he's starting to actually lose his mind. Gods know he's not reasonable anymore— what little reasonableness he had to begin with. 

But, Raditz knows he's got to set Vegeta straight in some way, in regards to you. 

Well, as straight as either one of them can be, at any rate. 

With how things are, he supposes he'll grovel like a sad, little animal. 

Frustrated by his own impotence against Vegeta's accusation, he makes his way toward the house. Raditz is under direct orders to go fuck you, and he's nothing, if not obedient. 

By the time he gets to the house, he feels his arousal begin to stir. When he gets to the elevator and thinks about you just a few floors up, his cock twitches. 

The elevator goes up to the residential floor, and as the doors open up, he glances down to see he's got a noticeable bulge. 

Fuck. It's like he's a teenager again. This is ridiculous. 

Thankfully, his keen hearing and sense of smell tell him that the common room is empty. Raditz quickly passes through the house, walks down to your door, and stops in front of it. 

He lightly knocks, and listens as you get up to pad across the room. 

The door opens to reveal you in disheveled, napped-in clothes. Your sleepy face and the way you grip the cuffs of your sweatshirt to stretch your arms without the sleeves rolling down is adorable. 

"Hello, handsome!" you chirp. What's up?"

You glance down and notice that he's half-hard. 

"Okay, I know what's up, now," you chuckle.

Raditz gives a dark chuckle as he steps inside. 

If this is a perk of being kicked out of training, he'll take it. 

He's such a tease, this time. Raditz kisses you and touches you all over. You're already naked, and he's still in his sweats, somehow.

You can't reach him from where you lie, and after this morning's POTS episode, you don't want to sit up fast. Determined, you put your foot on his thigh, grip his pants as best as you can with your toes, and try to tug them down.

Hypermobility has its uses, aside from being able to open your legs wide enough to fuck a man the size of a small couch.

Raditz looks down at what you're doing.

"Off!" You pout, giving the pants another tug for good measure. 

He chuckles and sits back on his haunches. "You want me off of you?" 

"No," you huff. "I want your pants off. And I want you off inside me, not off of me." 

He laughs. "Got it."

You give his pants another tug for extra measure. His casual attitude isn't fooling you at all; his dick is rock hard.

Raditz looks down to notice that you're using your foot. 

"Oh my—"

He's laughing so hard that the can't complete his sentence. After taking a moment to gather his composure, he takes his pants off, and slides his way up your body. 

He's still chuckling by the time he makes his way to your mouth to kiss you. You love it when your time together feels light-hearted and playful. 

You take your time with each other into the evening, softly kissing and touching and giving each other ridiculous compliments, which always give you a good giggle. 

The mood is carefree enough that you decide to try to find out what all the hype is about being on top. 

The mood dies quickly as you try to figure the whole thing out. Raditz has his hands on your hips to help guide you, but you're not sure about the whole thing. 

Maybe it's the angle. Maybe, it's the massive size difference between you two. You can't quite get a rhythm down, and your legs are very uncomfortable in this position. You're embarrassed and worry that you're terrible at this. God knows you've accidentally withdrawn him from your body multiple times. 

You shift again to try to get comfortable, but stop quickly. That angle feels like you might hurt him — like you're bending his dick — but you aren't sure and it freaks you out. 

Sighing, you look down at your hands, which brace against his chest. 

"I don't think I'm really good at this one," you murmur. 

His hands are still on your hips. 

"We can try it another time," he suggests. "I don't mind."

You nod. He gives your hips a reassuring squeeze and helps you off of him. As you move to the side to stop straddling him, you think about some of the moments that made Raditz go really crazy. 

You know something that he seems to really like, and his enjoyment will be a nice little ego boost. 

You shift on the bed, turn, and get on all fours to present yourself to him. 

"Damn," Raditz chuckles. "Threaten me with a good time."

You hope for a little bit of the wild, growling man who marked you in tiny bruises. He doesn't have to go as hard, though. In fact, you prefer him to dial that part of him back just a little.

Raditz shifts behind you, and soon, you feel the warmth radiating off of his body. As he mounts and penetrates you, his massive frame completely dwarfs yours. His skilled, strong thrusts and the large, secure hands on your hips make you very happy with your decision to let him take over. 

A thrill runs down your spine as you feel hot breath against the back of your neck. The snuffling and chattering of teeth behind you makes your hair stand on end.

You won't mind if he gives you a little nip. It sounds sexy as hell. 

The idea sends you over the edge and you erratically push back to meet his thrusts. Gasping, you close your eyes as you feel your muscles attempting to wring him dry. A little scrape of his teeth against your nape sends a jolt down your spine. 

It's almost too much, but thankfully, your orgasm fades as he picks up his pace. 

Raditz lets go of your hips to put his hands on the mattress. His enormous body engulfs you; his chest is at the back of your head, and his hair casts a shadowy veil over you. 

You don't just hear his ragged breath and low moans; you feel them vibrate against your back and into your  body. 

As his release overtakes him, in between moans and gasps, you hear and feel his heart hammering wildly. 

He continues to lazily thrust, and catches his breath. After a minute of collecting himself, he's going at it again.

The pace Raditz sets is slow and hard. With each progressive thrust, his force increases, and it's all you can do to hold on and stay upright. 

Eventually, he pushes so hard that your legs buckle. Raditz catches you before you fall, and wraps his arms around you — one across your hips, and the other over your midsection. 

You wince a little and crane your neck to look up at him.

"Shh," you murmur. "Gentle."

You give his massive thigh a soft pat. He doesn't stop, but he eases up drastically on the force he's using. Pulling out partially, he begins to thrust shallowly at a rapid pace. 

Oh fuck. That's the spot. 

You gasp and arch back against him. "Fuck. Right there."

Within seconds, your release hits you so hard that you thrash against him. He effortlessly holds you up, despite all of your squirming. 

"Fuck. Raditz. So strong. Fuck, fuck. Fucking strong—"

Your incoherent words turn into guttural moans, punctuated with the word "strong". 

Raditz gives a few deep thrusts before he comes with a gasping whine that borders on a sob. The fog of ecstasy clears from your mind quickly enough that you fully experience what's going on behind you:

Raditz is coming undone so hard that he sounds like he's damn near in tears. 

As his moans turn to gasps, then panting, his hammering heart begins to slow to a more normal rate. 

Whatever time it is now, the house is quiet and still. You turn to bury your head against his chest.

You suppose it's an odd thing to notice his heart beating in such a way, but it is fascinating. He's so human-like that he can fool anyone. Even the heart beneath you sounds human. 

You're not so different, really. 

Raditz slowly lets you go and you flop down onto the bed. You're tired; you hope he's done, for now. He settles in behind you, his tail reaching out to coil itself around your leg. 

You roll over to look at him. As your gazes meet, he leans in to give you a slow, sensual kiss. You exist in a warm, sleepy haze, even as he pulls back to plant a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

You lean over and kiss his cheek. As you stare into his eyes, you realize that have one more day here, then you leave the morning after. 

You ignore the sudden pang of anxiety in the pit of your stomach at the thought.

"Goodnight," you say, before turning back around. 

Raditz wraps his arm around you and reaches over to hold your hand. 

"Goodnight, little moon," he says. 

You snuggle closer to Raditz, but sleep doesn't come as easily as it usually does. 

Today feels like several days in one, but now, you fixate on what has just transpired:

Raditz always does something different with you, but this time, it feels very different. 

You think back to the feeling of his breath and moans transferring directly through you, and the sound of his heart racing. It seems that with each time, you find a new facet of intimacy with this man.

And now? He gives you a little pet name. 

You wonder if this is really a good idea.  

A girl can catch feelings real easily, getting treated like this.

Waking up to screaming in the middle of the night isn't unusual for Vegeta. The type of scream isn't uncommon, either. The sounds from Raditz aren't all that odd, as well; he's been the cause of those sounds, sometimes. 

Those sounds here and now, however, signify something which fills Vegeta with a disquiet the likes of which he hasn't felt in decades, if ever.

The noise mocks him. The smell of either one of you taunts him. 

Seeing Raditz fills Vegeta with the most visceral rage he's felt in his entire life. 

That kid from the future —a Super Saiyan— is no pure Saiyan. He has the pastel coloring of an Earthling. He's a hybrid. His age indicates that he will likely be conceived soon. 

Gohan is still a child. It's not his kid. 

Kakarot is a lot of distasteful things to Vegeta. That said, Vegeta knows for an absolute fact that he's not a cheat. It's not his kid. And, it's unlikely with his wife due to the timing of the heart virus. Kakarot has already outlived his future self. 

The Super Saiyan from the future is Raditz' kid. There's no getting around it. If he hasn't knocked up Bulma's friend yet, he will, soon. 

Vegeta doesn't know anything about Earthling genetics, but really, it doesn't matter what coloring you have. Colorings among your species are nothing more than mutations, the same as any other species. He wagers that nearly any coloring can come out of a human, even if the probability is low.

Humans have a dizzying amount of potential color combinations. That kid could absolutely be yours. 

Your size doesn't matter, either. Vegeta remembers that Raditz' family are all actually rather small, and Raditz is the odd one for being so big. So, shortness is in Raditz' blood as much as it might be in yours. 

Vegeta is absolutely certain that the kid from the future is out of Raditz and you. 

It's fucking killing him. 

This fucking family mocks his destiny. 

What is Vegeta, if he isn't the chosen one? 

He's nobody. He has no people, no throne, and no heirs. 

No. Vegeta is the chosen one. He has to be. He's the strongest Saiyan born in centuries. 

That low class family needs to learn their place, starting with Kakarot, then Raditz. They act far too familiar with him. If they're not stealing his birthright, they're stealing his revenge. Or they're stealing the birthright of his heirs. They're even stealing his fucking sleep. 

And, that's why Raditz is out. He's holding the training back, and Vegeta can't stand to look at him. 

Besides, he's got a female to apparently inseminate.

Vegeta messes with whatever he wants, but not even he will touch that mess. Altering the future in that particular manner seems incredibly foolish. 

He just wishes that they'd get it over with so he can sleep a little better at night. 

His face heats up as he hears them moaning together in what sounds like a simultaneous orgasm. He knows Raditz is good, but the woman has to be bullshitting him, at least a little. 

Vegeta behaves himself like a proper guest. He's under the impression that this planet is more reserved than the gaggle of filth that is —was— the PTO. He is a man of self-discipline, when he so chooses. Bulma tests him, though; she's atypically lewd for her own planet, and she frequently dangles herself in front of Vegeta like a piece of meat. 

Vegeta isn't a prude; he's a fucking beast, trying to behave in a culturally appropriate manner. 

For the brief time that he's perused the internet, he's fairly confident of his assessment of this planet's society, although this is typically something he leaves up to Raditz. 

One thing is for certain: he's not going to ask that sex-drunk idiot, now. 

Raditz' shriek echoes down the hall, and Vegeta snarls, rolls over, and covers his head with his pillow. It's worse, now that she's found out about his nipples. 

Years ago, the two of them would have had lovely time spit-roasting that woman on their cocks. 

Such a thing is a bit taboo on this planet. So is fucking the friend of the person who is housing them and giving them every luxury imaginable. 

Maybe it's not taboo, but it's questionable, and acting questionably is asking to get put on notice. 

But he does think about it. He thinks about how nice she really looks. He thinks about Bulma—

Bulma is going to be the death of Vegeta, someday. She's absolutely shameless and vulgar. He wants nothing more than to fuck the lascivious grin off of her pretty little face, her curls and her tits bouncing—

Nope. 

Vegeta cuts those thoughts off before he can get even more pent up than he already is. Between the vulgar woman and the sounds and smells down the hallway, he's absolutely miserable. 

The slapping sound of Raditz rutting the pretty, fragile woman makes him snarl, toss the sheets off of his body, and roll out of bed. 

Vegeta needs to do something —anything— to distract himself.

Chapter Text

There are two things of which Raditz is completely certain. 

The first is that he's a damn good lay.

The second is that Saiyans are innately superior to humans in every way. 

Facts are facts. Humans need to undergo rigorous training to learn to do things that the overwhelming majority of Saiyans know innately. 

Learning how to fly sometimes comes easier to a Saiyan than walking. Toddlers frequently blow things up. 

Humans aren't remotely on that level, and the more Raditz learns about them, the more it solidifies to him that they are less than Saiyans. 

You're a little different. Yes, your body is weaker than even the average human. 

Your mind, though—

Your willpower is the stuff of legends. You've got the grit of a Saiyan. There aren't many species who can endure pain along the lines of a fractured bone, and still appear fine while feeling said pain. It would be a struggle for a Saiyan, even. It's normal for you to have pain this intense when you're having a bad day. 

Even with that pain, you can't keep your hands to yourself. The fact that you pleasure him is a very nice byproduct of that, but it's a lie if he doesn't say that he loves it.

But, Raditz isn't so sure if this whole thing has been a good idea. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Vegeta might be on to something. 

Raditz is fucked in the head and all he can think about is doing things with you: fucking, touching, kissing, cuddling, talking. 

He wants to talk with you, and he doesn't mind if you both have your clothes on. 

You're interesting. On a low tech, non-spacefaring planet, there aren't many truly educated, let alone intelligent people. You're more than witty; you have a staggering intellect, and Raditz realizes he's not as smart as you. 

Had you been born a Saiyan, he thinks you'd be Elite. 

Is it possible to wish for the Dragon Balls to make you a Saiyan? 

You're already hot as fuck to him. A tail might ruin him on the idea of anyone else. 

That is, if he isn't ruined, already. 

Raditz has a nickname for you, now. At the time, he just wanted something cute to call you, to make things a little fun. 

His brain decided to go with Little Moon. Why in God's fucking name did that come out of his mouth? It's not flirtatious. It's not naughty. It's romantic and gross and—

That's the Saiyan equivalent of "sweetie"!  

He is sex drunk. That's the only explanation.

It's good that you're leaving tomorrow. This is too much. 

Raditz wants to spend time with you, completely clothed. That's a red flag if he's ever seen one. 

Still, he does his best to use what time he has left with you to show you a good time. He's the first person you've ever fucked, and that fact still blows his mind. 

Other than the clumsy attempt to ride him, you're a quick learner; you know a lot of his most sensitive spots, and know what to do with them. 

It's a lot to deal with, to be honest. The loss of control over the situation is part of why he's choosing more positions where you're not facing him. Raditz has shown too much weakness for you already since your first coupling. 

He wakes you up by scooting up behind you and rubbing his cock all over your ass and between your thighs. You haven't protested him being so insistent yet, so he assumes he's got permission to do it. 

Your subconscious knows what's going on; after you awaken, a little bit of fingering indicates that you're soaking wet. 

So, Raditz fucks you softly from behind once you're awake. You seem to come a lot easier from this position. It's a nice, lazy position; all he needs to do is lift your leg a little and slide right in. Raditz makes sure to hold your leg up with his tail, so you can just lie there and enjoy yourself. He wraps his arms around you to keep you sideways and plays with your clit the way you like it. 

It doesn't stop you from squirming, though. You move your hips as best as you can, and dig your nails into his bicep. 

He's ready for it. You come so hard sometimes that you thrash around, and his dick will slip right out of you if he doesn't hold you still. 

Raditz doesn't bother to change positions. You get your fill of each other, then head to the shower. 

Predictably, the kissing starts the moment you two step into the warm steam. You run your hands over his body, spreading soap as you practically worship his physique. 

You have a lot to say about it: 

Gorgeous. Sexy. Hot as fuck. Flawless. The most stunning creature you've ever seen. 

You annoyingly poke the tip of his nose and say you're "booping the snoot". 

Raditz can't stay irritated, though he'll bite anyone else's finger off for such an offense. 

You find even his nose attractive. It's just a nose; it's the same kind of nose that any other Saiyan or lesser creature might have. 

He has to sit down on the built in bench when you start washing his tail. The way you softly lather up his tail and gently scratch along the fur might make him cum without anything touching his cock on a normal day. Thankfully, he's had a lot of you this morning, and you use your hand before he can go off. 

Instead of viciously beating him off like last time, however, you slowly and gently pump your fist over the length of his cock. 

It doesn't take long before Raditz erupts in a breath-taking orgasm. Even with his eyes open, his vision blacks out around the edges, and he barely has the restraint to resist cracking the tile bench beneath him with his fingers. 

You so thoroughly sate him that he has to turn those same fingers on you instead of using his cock, until you're weak-kneed and shrieking from overstimulation. 

As an apology for weakening your body, Raditz washes you thoroughly, wraps you in a towel, and carries you out to the bathroom counter to set you on top. He watches as you put various liquids and creams all over your face and the rest of your body.

Eventually, you hang your towel back up and you're naked once again. It takes a lot of restraint for him to not reinitiate the cycle of kissing, touching, and fucking. Your sick body needs hydration and food, and he can't afford to make it worse. 

Raditz wants to make sure you're able to fuck later. That's the only reason. 

You both get dressed, then head out for a late breakfast. Mrs. Briefs has a setting for you both out on the patio. 

At the center of the table, a vase containing some water and a single, thorny red flower is a bit odd and out of place. 

Raditz helps himself to a plate piled high with food, and leans over to sniff the flower. 

It has a complex scent, but not unpleasant. It's an interesting combination of earthy and sweet, and it doesn't seem like typical breakfast food. It smells edible, though. 

Raditz peers at it, then back up to you.

There's something about your bashful look that has him simultaneously charmed and suspicious. 

"Is this food?" He asks. 

Your eyes widen in what he presumes is shock. 

What social misstep is he making, now?

You shake your head. "It's meant as a decoration, in this instance, though it is edible. That particular flower is called a 'rose' and it's probably the most popular flower on Earth. Bulma's mom loves plants and flowers, so— uh— yeah. She probably put that there because she likes them."

You look suspiciously awkward, and Raditz is certain you're not telling him the full story. He's going to have to look it up, when he gets a chance. 

You look out over the balcony at the extensive gardens near the house. 

You're acting weird. What has he done wrong?

"Since Bulma is working on the GR today," you say, "maybe we should go out to the gardens? But, only if you want to. You don't have to. I'm good at finding stuff to do if you don't want to."

Raditz shrugs. "Sure. It's probably good to be outside for a bit."

He's more enthusiastic about it than he lets on. Maybe, he'll find out what the hell is going on with this 'rose' thing in the gardens. 

You get awfully quiet after he tells you "yes". Is this one of those silly things that humans do where they want someone to say "no", but they act like "yes" is the correct answer?

Raditz thinks you're above those kinds of games, but, perhaps, he's wrong. He's wrong about a lot of stuff. You're probably being polite about wanting to spend non-fucking time with him. He isn't useful for much other than that, after all. 

His circling thoughts make it impossible to eat the amount he should. You don't notice. 

You're quiet the rest of the meal, and quiet as you lead him toward the elevator, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye every so often. 

Raditz has the urge to hold your hand, but quickly nixes the idea. That's what mothers do with children, in his experience. He doesn't know why he has the inappropriate impulse.

With the way you glance at him in what he supposes is suspicion, he thinks that moving his hand toward you outside the bedroom might terrify you. 

It's wise for him to keep his hands to himself and let you initiate any touching. 

So, he stays quiet as you lead him toward the gardens. There's a path leading away from the blank green space of the yard around the house, which abruptly ends at a large tunnel of dark green vines. 

You start to relax as you walk with him through the tunnel, and he hopes that the weird mood from this morning is thoroughly left behind. 

The tunnel of vines curves around and abruptly ends. As Raditz steps out into the sunshine, the scent of thousands of flowering plants hits him all at once. 

He sneezes immediately. 

"Bless you," you say. 

Raditz sniffs, rubs at his nose, and looks at you in confusion. 

"What for?" he asks. 

He can't recall the last time anyone said such a sentiment to him, if ever. It's too much. You shouldn't be like that with him.

You furrow your brow, then put your hand over your mouth as you giggle. 

He's torn between feeling hurt that you're laughing at him, and admiring how cute you look. The latter barely wins out.

"Sorry," you say. "It's one of those weird, cultural things. Saying 'bless you' after someone sneezes is short for 'God bless you'. It's considered rude not to, though a lot of people don't know why we say it."

He nods slowly. That's the weirdest shit. He's dumb for thinking it might have had any serious meaning.

"I wasn't laughing at you," you explain. "The look you gave me reminded me that it is kind of weird. The origin of it is so old that we're not sure how it started. Some say it was used to ward off evil, because people thought that the soul left the body for a second during a sneeze. Others think it was meant to be a wish of good health, which started during one of the earlier outbreaks of the plague."

"The plague?" He asks. 

Raditz fights the urge to scoff at how unscientific this planet is and instead, keeps quiet about that and accompanies you on your walk through the garden.

You wince. "It was bad. There were three outbreaks of it in the past fifteen-hundred years. Between all of those, we're looking at well over 100 million deaths. It's curable now with antibiotics. Medical stuff is interesting to me, so I read about it, sometimes."

Raditz knows this species is weak, but that's a staggering number of deaths from weakness. He's not sure what to say about that information, to be honest. This species is one contagion away from destruction.

Your body is probably more vulnerable to it, as well. Something has to be done about that. 

"Do Saiyans have any longtime supersitions like that?" You ask.

Raditz is pleased that you're asking about his people and thinks for a moment. 

"If someone does something clumsy," he says, "we say something somewhat similar. I guess the translation is wishing swiftness on someone. A clumsy Saiyan is a dead Saiyan, so wishing swiftness to them means you hope they stay safe from attacks when they fight."
 
You give him a smile. "So, I guess in some ways, we're not too different."

Raditz shrugs. "I don't think so. Saiyans don't get sickness like you humans do."

You roll your eyes and level him with an irritated look. It's something he would have threatened someone over, but you get a pass. Health is probably a sore spot, for you. You're not like other humans, anyway.

"Your brother is going to get a gnarly heart virus, soon," you say. "It can happen to anyone. I hope that medicine helps and he doesn't end up like me afterward."

"I have never heard of a Saiyan with the kind of illness you have," he admits. 

You appear oddly unbothered by his statement.

"Well," you reply, "I had a lot of friends and family who never heard of my illness, either. I do hope you're right, though."

Raditz nods. Since you're so anxious about health, he doesn't want to push his point too much. Instead, he asks you about what other phrases and supersitions Earthlings have. 

He remembers a lot of similar ones from his Mama, and a few that Nappa says every now and then. 

You're the only Earthling who asks him in depth about Saiyans. The Briefs, though very charitible, don't ask much. 

You want to know more about Saiyans. You get it; you understand how magnificent his people are.

The gardens are nice, he supposes. The fact that you're happy about it makes him happy. 

There's thousands of new, unique scents and sounds. Raditz spends some time sharing his observations; your senses are dull, in comparison to his. 

You're supposedly sensitive to sensory input, for a human, but you notice only a fraction of the things Raditz does. The inferiority of your species repeatedly asserts itself to him in a distracting way. 

You should be his equal, and there's only one way he wants you beneath him. As you walk through the garden, he finds dozens of places that make his imagination run wild:

Bending you over that rock over there and pounding you senseless. Laying you down on the bed of moss next to that pond and grinding you down into it slow and hard. Brushing aside the long, whispy branches of that tree like a curtain and dragging you under its cover to softly, gently—

And, he's getting hard again. Awesome. 

It confuses him when you don't take advantage of that. You should be groping him, or, at the very least, hitting on him.

The subtle rejection makes both his ego and arousal deflate. 

A large, warm greehouse in the center of the garden becomes a welcome distraction. Inside, it's a completely different look and feel from the rest of the place. 

This planet has an admittedly impressive amount of biodiversity, despite the fact that your kind seems hell-bent on destroying it. 

Toward the middle of the greenhouse, Raditz faintly smells death. It all makes sense, though, when you show him something called a 'corpse flower'. 

He looks the weird plant up and down and shrugs. 

"Smells corpse-like," he says. "The smell isn't really there all that much, though."

You shrug. "It's supposed to only smell like that when it's in bloom. And it is intense."

Wait, are you questioning if he's really smelling what he says he is? Raditz knows what a dead body smells like. 

You glance back to the flower in thought. "I should let Mrs. Briefs know this. She might want to run a study on the chemical compounds in the plant throughout its lifetime. Or, there's residue somewhere of the previous bloom. I really don't know."

Raditz nods. Even though he's wrong about your assumption, he still feels hurt. 

You walk together through the miniature jungle, taking a path leading up to a set of double doors, much like those at the entrance. 

If this is the end of your walk, he might want to say what's on his mind. Raditz sucks in a breath and watches you intently for a reaction.

"I wonder if the Dragon Balls could make you a Saiyan," he muses. 

You shrug. "Probably."

Your indifference to the idea stings. There's a possibility that you can wish for your body to match your mind. Being a Saiyan might fix your health, even. 

After telling you about Saiyans all day, do you not like them?

You only touched his tail after he brought it up. After that, the only time you did again was to wash it. You don't compliment it, like his hair or the rest of his body.

His tail —his rare-colored, most prized Saiyan feature— probably disgusts you. Nappa says it would have been considered very nice, if there were still Saiyans around.

You open the doors, and the overwhelming scent of flowers slaps him in the face. Raditz sneezes again, but, you don't bless him this time. Isn't that supposed to be courtesy for your people? Is he not worth that, now?

He's about to half-jokingly tease you about it, until he notices that your attention is drawn elsewhere. 

There's a path in front of you. Toward the end of it is a small, open building surrounded with lights, and a candlelit table at the center.

There's a large vase of red roses in the center of the table. 

What's Mrs. Briefs doing with these things? They must have some cultural significance. The garden hasn't told him a damn thing about them, other than the fact that they come in many colors.

There's fruit and other sweets at the table, as well as a bottle of some sort of alcohol. 

Oh. There's a blanket, too. It looks like the one in your bedroom. 

Well, Raditz has an opportunity. Surely, you'll come back for more if he reminds you of his Saiyan prowess. 

That blanket is a nice little favor, and he's going to make good use of it. 

It's fine. Raditz can handle this. 

You walk forward toward the table, practically ignoring him as you leave. 

It's fine, isn't it?

It looks like a date and feels like a date, but it is, in fact, not a date. 

You understand what someone is trying to do —probably Mrs. Briefs— but all of this is lost on Raditz. He has no clue what roses signify, and he especially doesn't understand the chocolate-covered strawberries, champagne, and candlelit table. 

This is all date stuff. There's no way this is a date. 

And, if it is somehow a date, it's an awkward one. 

Raditz says some things that make you uncomfortable. He mentions how Saiyans are the best at everything, and how other species aren't even comparable in ability

You're not sure how much of what you know about Earth can apply to what he's saying. There are a lot of people here who say they're superior to other people, and it never, ever leads to anything good.

Still, the Saiyans were colonized and enslaved. They're basically extinct; there's four of them left. So, this isn't the same, right? 

When Raditz drops the superiority act, it's fascinating to learn about his people. You're not sure if his attitude about others is a coping mechanism, or a cultural trait. Perhaps, it's both. 

It might feel nice for him to talk about Saiyans to someone who is interested. 

Maybe.

Or, maybe, Raditz is just humoring you, because he's got nothing better to do. The little digs at humans he peppers into the conversation, as well as the grandiose praise of his own people, are probably evidence that you're just entertainment to him. 

Damn it. Is this another "people collector"? How many of these guys have you gotten crushes on? It has to be three, at least. They're super social, and you're just one of many pieces of entertainment for their packed calendar. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and remind yourself that this is casual. The person who had all these date things put out for you is the one who's got that idea bouncing around in your head, now. 

You finally notice that there's a blanket nearby that is suspiciously the same brand as the one in your bedroom. It's easy to latch onto that as something familiar to ground yourself with. 

So, you do what seems to come natural to you, around Raditz: 

You talk dirty. 

You take a big sip of your champagne and give the blanket a pointed look. 

"That's a nice looking blanket," you purr. "Would be a shame if it got wet."

Raditz guzzles the rest of his champagne and turns to you with a hungry look. 

"I never mentioned earlier," he says. "I like that skirt on you. I think it will look really nice bunched up around your waist. But, I'd personally like the blanket to get wet."

Your face flushes as Raditz leans in to give you a searing kiss. The touch quickly escalates to his tongue inside your mouth, his tail wrapping around your leg to drag you closer, and his hands working their way up your skirt. 

You spread the blanket out in a haphazard pile and barely lie down on top of it before your panties are pushed to the side, and his pants are pushed down past his hips. 

Raditz plunges into you repeatedly, muffling your moans with his ravenous mouth. Though the awkwardness of your conversation earlier lurks in the back of your mind, your thoughts quickly become overpowered by the intense connection between you. 

Your buzzed mind swears that your bodies are made for each other. A thrill of arousal and a chill of horror run down your spine at the same time. 

This is not that. This is a hookup. 

His insitent tongue laps at the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

It's a hookup. It's not like that. It's not. This isn't—

Your climax hits you, and you slap your hand over your mouth to keep from loudly moaning the word "no". 

Raditz isn't far behind you. His thrusts take on a frantic pace, and all sorts of words you don't understand tumble out of his mouth. 

Odd that this is how you end up hearing Saiyan for the first time. Your inferior ears are okay enough to hear it, you suppose. 

The feeling of him coming inside you is still as much of a turn on as it always has been. His thrusts slow, and eventually, you're left with a dizzying mix of arousal and anxiety. 

As soon as Raditz sits up and pulls out, you're up and at the bottle of champagne. You foolishly forego a glass and drink straight from the bottle, resulting in the drink spilling down your chin and all over the front of your shirt. 

You swear under your breath, grab a napkin, and go to wipe up the mess, but Raditz is on you in a flash. As he licks the champagne from your chin and neck, he chuckles. 

"Drinking straight from the bottle?" He asks. "I thought you were a good girl."

You shudder and arch your back at the hot breath against your ear. 

"I want to be a bad girl, tonight," you say. 

Raditz kisses his way down your neck, peeling your shirt downward as he goes. 

"I don't think you're capable of being a bad girl," he says. "Maybe, naughty. But, bad? Well—"

He laps at your breast before taking your nipple into his mouth. You quickly become a whining mess in his lap, and the mood swings from ravenous and barely-restrained, to soft and gentle. Slowly, Raditz pushes you over onto your back, spreads your legs, and gently pushes inside you. The pace he sets is slow and soft.

Its reminds you of your first time with him days ago, and the thought has you distracted enough that it takes much longer to orgasm than it has before. When it hits, though, you have to put in a concentrated effort to not shriek. 

Raditz comes quickly after the first contraction of your muscles around him. The words he pants out are, again, words that you don't understand. 

You wonder if knowing what he's saying will ruin what's left of the mystery around him. 

After a few seconds to catch his breath, he gives you a kiss before sitting up to take his weight off of you. The chill of the early spring night hits you as soon as his warmth is gone. 

Raditz notices quickly. He gently tugs your shirt back into place, pulls his pants up, and smooths down your skirt. Pulling you into his arms, he stands and gives you a quick kiss. 

"I think you'll be more comfortable in bed, yes?" He asks.

You nod and curl up against his chest. Glancing down at the blanket, you sigh.

"Can you hand that to me?" You ask. 

Raditz gives you an odd look. "Why?"

Still, he picks the blanket up off of the floor of the pergola and hands it to you. You quickly fold it up the wet patch facing inward, and drape it over your arm. 

"Thanks," you say. "The next person coming here to relax would probably appreciate not encountering a cum-soaked blanket."

Raditz huffs. "Soaked? I don't cum that much."

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Not yet," you say. "But, you will soon enough."

Leaning in, you nip at his jaw. 

Raditz grunts. "Don't make me walk through the house with a visible boner."

"That sounds like your problem," you chuckle.

You shudder at the hot breath against your ear. 

"I'm going to make it your problem," he murmurs. 

"Please do," you purr.

The bad energy doesn't follow you back up to your bedroom and mercifully, stays in the garden. As Raditz lays you down on the bed and gently removes your clothes, the discomfort of his earlier negging goes away. 

You dismiss it as some of his childhood programming coming back up, and decide you're going to enjoy the rest of the night. 

The time you spend together is marked with a slow savoring of each other, interspersed with frantic, almost desperate touch. 

Whether you're on your hands and knees or lying down, Raditz suddenly favors taking you from behind. His hungry kisses go to the back of your neck instead of your mouth. He keeps his tail away from you. 

Eventually, you insist on missionary. Raditz looks nervous, but he complies. He covers you with his body and softly slips inside you. 

As he begins to slowly thrust, that look is back. Raditz leans over you, and the intense eye contact becomes nearly overwhelming. 

Something breaks his focus, though, and he quickly buries his face to the side of your neck. His breath comes out in short, desperate gasps. 

His deft fingers sliding down to rub your clit are all it takes for you to come once again. You squeeze yourself around him, your legs clamping around his hips and your nails raking down his back. 

Raditz stays with his face away from yours, practically hiding from you. It's enough of a distraction that you can't concentrate on finding pleasure again. 

It doesn't take long, however, before he shudders and his thrusts slow as he spills himself inside you. 

How odd that he's much more quiet, this time. 

Raditz sighs as the last of his climax ebbs away. He gently withdraws, helps you stretch your legs, then flops to the side on his back. 

He wraps his arm around you and gently pulls you to his side. You rest your head on his chest, giving him a once-over as you make yourself comfortable. 

He really is gorgeous. He's smart too. And nice—

Most of the time, that is. 

"You feeling okay?" He asks. 

You smile. "Yep. Barely sore at all." 

Yeah, he is nice. The weird stuff from earlier must be a fluke. 

You can't help but twirl a lock of his hair around your finger as you curl up next to him in bed. 

"Do you have any plans for what you're going to do next?" You ask. 

The look of hesitation on his face makes you wish you could take back those words. 

"I'm sorry if that's too personal," you add. "We can move on if you don't want to talk about that."

Nevermind he's seen more of you than anyone else. It's more than just your body; for better or worse, he has seen you at some pretty bad lows in the short time you've known him. 

But, those are your feelings to share. He does not owe you his feelings in return. 

People aren't emotional bubblegum machines. 

Raditz looks hesitant for a moment, but eventually, sighs and looks away. 

"Yamcha said something about training with him," he says. "I dunno."

Oh! You love that idea. Yamcha is a great guy. He's not gonna treat Raditz like the other guys do. And, he gets it. He's not the best fighter out there, and he knows at least a little bit about what Raditz is going through.

"That's a great idea," you say. "There could be some interesting things to learn."

Raditz scoffs. "I don't see what a human could teach me about fighting. Fighting is what Saiyans are made for."

You don't like where this is going. Still, you can't stop the rush of fury coursing through your body. You're sure now that it isn't a fluke. 

"So, humans are made for what?" You ask. "Fucking?"

Raditz sits up and stares at you with wide eyes. 

"That's not— I didn't mean— Look, you're different, okay? You're not like other humans."

"Ohh, I'm 'not like other humans'," you drawl. "How would you like to be told that you're 'not like other Saiyans'?"

It's like a switch flips; Raditz looks absolutely furious. 

He's terrifying. You completely believe now that this man is a murderer.

"I've been told that my whole life," he hisses. "I do not need to hear that from you, of all people."

You swallow your fear as best as you can. 

"I was using it as an example," you say. "If you can't see how it's insulting to be told that humans have nothing of value to teach you with fighting, and that I'm somehow better than the rest of my inferior species, then I can't help you."

"The example you used isn't remotely similar," Raditz says. "Facts are facts. Saiyans are superior fighters. You are different from the rest of your inferior species."

His words feel like a punch to the gut. This is what has been building up all day. 

 If anything, getting told he was a pathetic excuse for a Saiyan his whole life should give him more empathy. It doesn't, though.

Somehow, you're the exception for his distaste toward humans. Oh, but Raditz desperately whines while he fucks you. He practically begs for it, while you? 

You've asked, joked, and ordered, but never begged. 

Even now, while you're mad at each other, he looks like he's trying not to stare at your breasts. If you weren't so hurt right now, you might find the whole thing funny. 

This is all a sobering reminder that this was and still is intended to be a fun hookup. 

Well, it's not so fun, anymore. He's not the person you built him up to be in your mind. Maybe, Goku is right; maybe, Raditz is just scummy.

Raditz' thought from earlier this afternoon hits you:

He wants you to become a Saiyan. Your disabled, human body isn't good enough, for him. 

You deserve better than that. 

This is over. 

The tail sneaking up to coil around your leg breaks you out of your inwardly spiraling thoughts. 

What does he mean, touching you like this? Comfort? Security? Possessiveness? 

If you take the things he says seriously, then you're like property, to him. That thought, however, feels wrong. You'll probably never know.

You sigh, and as you look up at Raditz, you can't begin to decipher all the emotions on his face. 

"Speaking of facts," you say, "I'm going to have to get some sleep tonight by myself and get up early. So, I hope you have a good night. If I don't see you tomorrow before I leave, it was fun."

The devastated look on his face makes you want to take it back. Still, you can't let him talk to you like that, listen to him triple down on it, then let him stay the night, just because he looks sad.

That, and you're terrified of the glimpse of the violent man you know about. 

That man is real. 

It's the middle of the night. You're a naked, disabled woman and there's a murderer in your bed.

Raditz reaches out to try to caress your cheek. As you flinch away from his touch, those damn puppy eyes are back.

What does he want?

What the fuck does he want? More sex? 

You're inferior to him, anyway, so again: what the fuck does he want?

Your eyes well up with resentful tears as your heart begins to race. You can't seem to catch your breath.

God damn it. You're close to having a panic attack, now.

The tail wrapped around your leg goes limp, then slowly withdraws. 

Raditz slides out of bed and starts getting dressed. You're torn between keeping a wary eye on him, or keeping your gaze averted so you don't have to memorize more of his body than you already have. 

You succeed in neither. 

Fuck. You let this man touch you.

You don't need love to have sex, but making sure he isn't a bigot should be the bare minimum. That's your failure. 

Once his pants are back on, Raditz turns to look at you with those fucking eyes again. 

"Goodnight," he says.

You say nothing.

He— him; that's the one— the most beautiful, sweet man you've ever met leaves your bedroom and closes the door behind him, leaving you bereft. 

You curse whatever hormones are responsible for your intrusive, intense feelings. You're not going to cry. You are not going to cry. 

You're—

The first tear falls onto your pillow. 

You're going to cry,  just a little. 

Your breath hitches. 

You're going to cry, maybe more than you want. 

Your breathing is erratic. The tears fall hard and fast. 

You're having a panic attack.

It's fine. You have meds. 

You're going home tomorrow. 

It's fine. You scramble to get your meds out of your bag. 

You wish you were home, now.

It's fine, isn't it?

Chapter Text

Doing your laundry is always a tough ask of your body, but this is the first time that it affects your feelings.

There's black fur caught in the lint trap of your dryer. There's even fur on your clean clothes.

When unpacking your other things, you find a strand of black hair that is almost as long as you are tall.

The cookie butter in your pantry mocks you, too. 

And, if that all isn't enough, you can't find one of your favorite "I feel bloated and gross and these are old and worn out and comfy" pairs of panties.

You don't take stock in the whole societal construct of virginity, but now, you're not completely sure. 

You're not any different, physically, true. Mentally, though, you're a wreck.

How can someone so attentive and affectionate end up being such an ass?

Are you overreacting?

You sit down on the couch and sigh. No, if Raditz had said you weren't like other women, it would have been just as bad. Unfortunately, since nobody else on Earth has really interacted with an alien, you're left guessing. 

You log into Discord and send Bulma a message to let her know that you're home. 

She's glad to hear that, and takes a moment to complain about having to work on the GR.

You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes as you read the message. That damn Vegeta is so entitled. 

And then, there's Raditz and his two-faced attitude. 

How in the hell is Nappa the one you're most okay with, now? At least he's fucking honest with how he acts, and he doesn't demand things from the people who are giving him a home.

Bulma sends another message to let you know she's got to get back to work. With that, she goes offline. 

You decide that you're not going to tell Bulma that you departed on bad terms with Raditz. You don't want to further add to her stress. 

Besides, appearing unbothered and finished is a very good way to move on. 

That doesn't stop you from messaging with three of your regular friends to tell them all of what happened—

Well, minus the whole "Bulma Briefs" and "were-aliens" thing. You tell them that Raditz said that you aren't like other women, because it's close enough. 

They're all upset on your behalf. And one of them shares an unfortunate experience: 

She's been with a guy who seemed nice at first, then turned into an ass in a heartbeat. But, she excused his behavior and ended up in an emotionally abusive relationship for years. 

She's proud of you for kicking Raditz out last night.

You want to muster up some pride, too, but you just can't find any. Part of you wants to defend him to your friend. He's not like her ex. He can't be. 

But, if there's anything you've learned from being chronically ill, it's that if someone shows you who they are, you should believe them. Raditz thinks that your species is less than his. He says you're better than other humans, but, the fact remains that you are human, and a disabled, weaker one, at that. 

Maybe, you regret the whole thing. You're not sure. Something about this feels unfinished, and you're not sure what. 

Whatever the case, you decide to give this up to the universe.

It's a bitter, unfair universe, though. You've given up your plans, your health, your career, your relationships, your financial stability—

What else are you going to have to give up?  

When will it be enough?

Raditz wakes up well after you leave. Left to his own devices, he can sleep too long and through just about anything. 

Your actions last night are all too familiar. All that's missing is a little money being tossed at him on the way out the door. You seem like such a good girl that he doesn't understand how you can turn on him so quickly. 

The tears in your eyes as he left make him think that you regret giving your virginity to him. 

You're gone, perhaps, forever. The conflicting feelings of relief, anxiety, and loss have him on Reddit, again.

Raditz knows that something about his compliment to you was offensive enough for you to kick him out of bed. But, he's got no clue. You truly are the best of your kind, and you deserve to be among legends, rather than having to fight a body that wants to inflict suffering on you as much as it can.

So, Raditz asks Reddit. And, Reddit is pissed. 

They have a lot to say to him, and, when he defends his position and states the absolute fact that his people are superior to humans, he gets banned without warning from two subreddits, and receives warnings from three others. 

He doesn't understand why everyone is so pissed.

Raditz stays in bed for hours on his phone, with his tail wound around his leg. The horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach doesn't go away, and eventually, he knows there's nothing he can do about it. 

Around dinner time, Raditz finally emerges from his room. He's out so late because he doesn't want to face anyone. If Bulma is around, she's gonna give him hell for upsetting you.

Raditz takes his time in the shower and scrubs you off of his skin until it hurts. He doesn't want to get rid of your scent, but he can't bear being surrounded by it.

This whole thing is exactly what he expected. He's a loser. Not even his excellent pedigree as a Saiyan is enough; he's the least of his own kind, anyway. 

He's fucking last among all of the warriors worth anything on this planet, too. 

And, he's bent out of shape over a frail, soft woman with whom he has to take great pains to be gentle. 

He thinks back to some of your interactions and can't figure out if they're pandering, or if you meant to be naughty with him. 

Even after thinking through everything while showering and drying his hair, he's got more questions and no answers. 

Raditz slinks out to the empty living area, takes some leftovers from the fridge, and makes his way outside to sit on the patio. Since it's outside, your scent is faint, here, compared to some other areas of the house. 

It still gets to him enough that he has trouble eating. He manages to choke down some food, but it's not enough for a Saiyan. 

Raditz still remembers his manners, however. He carries his dishes and the food he doesn't finish back into the kitchen. It's not hard to give stuff a quick rinse, then put it in the dish washing machine; he doesn't understand why Mrs. Briefs is so insistent that none of them do their own dishes.

Raditz almost always tries to wash his dishes. Nappa tries sometimes. Vegeta doesn't, anymore; knowing Vegeta, he probably thinks that because Mrs. Briefs insists on doing the dishes, that doing his own dishes is considered rude. 

Vegeta likely overthinks it. It's probably a close call as to if Vegeta is more paranoid than Raditz, or vice versa.

Raditz finishes the dishes, then heads back out to the patio to try to clear his head. His time alone doesn't last for long, however; he hears footsteps approaching the balcony door, and can tell by the weight and cadence of them that it's Mr. Briefs. 

A human might not even make that observation. Every Saiyan probably would, though. Why is it wrong to state the obvious?

Raditz' habit of doing what he can to stay safe remains intact; he's got his back to a wall, and he can see both doors from the inside, and the expanse of sky beyond the railing. Nobody should be able to sneak up on him, like this. 

Sure enough, Mr. Briefs appears in the doorway with two glasses, and a bottle of alcohol. 

"Ah, there you are, Raditz!" Mr. Briefs says. "Did you catch up on your sleep?"

Raditz falls back on his lifetime of lying and nods. 

"Yeah," he says. "I needed it."

Mr. Briefs chuckles, and Raditz is certain that he believes his lie. 

"Would you like a drink?" Mr. Briefs asks. 

Raditz gives him a smile that he hopes reaches his eyes. 

"Yeah, that sounds nice."

He wants more than a drink. He wants several. He wants enough so he can forget, just for a little while. 

Mr. Briefs pulls up a seat next to him, and sets the bottle and glasses down. 

"Did you find the leftovers?" He asks. 

Raditz nods. "I did."

Uncapping the alcohol, Mr. Briefs pours a small amount into each glass, then hands a glass over to Raditz. He holds his glass up and nods; Raditz mimics what he does, but he's not sure what the meaning is behind the ritual. 

He wonders if there's something to it, like that sneezing thing. You can tell him about it, sometime. 

Dammit. He's thinking of you, again. You're gone.

Raditz downs a large sip of the drink, before he can remember to fake not being an alcoholic. 

If Mr. Briefs notices, he doesn't indicate it. Instead, he takes a sip of his own drink, savors the taste, and smiles. 

"Panchi will be huffy if she finds out you did the dishes," he chuckles. 

Raditz shrugs. "I don't mind doing them."

"Did I ever tell you how I met my wife?" He asks. 

Raditz shakes his head. "I haven't heard about it, no."

He doesn't exactly know how they do things, on this planet. Maybe, he might learn something. This man is extremely wealthy and successful, after all. And, while he's not hideous or anything, he's managed to find a life mate who is leagues more attractive. 

This guy knows some shit. There's something about him that's given him a lot of success in life. 

Mr. Briefs takes another sip of his drink and sets it down. 

"I met Panchi in college," he says. "She was in a student wreck room with some mutual friends. We got introduced and spent a lot of time together in group gatherings."

Raditz nods. "What's a wreck room?"

"Oh, that's a recreation room." he says. "It's just shortened to 'rec room'. Anyway, she was getting her PhD in music theory. She's an extremely accomplished and talented penised."

"A—a what?"

"A piano player," Mr. Briefs explains. "Pianist. Oh, gosh, I know that word sounds weird, haha. The piano is a musical instrument."

Oh, okay. 

Pee-a-nist. It's kinda like how he hears people say the word "peanut" in an odd way, sometimes. 

If he weren't so fucked in the head, right now, he'd probably have a chuckle.

He's pretty bad off, if he's not even having a laugh at a child-level dirty joke.

Raditz takes another sip of his drink, but tries to make it a bit smaller than the last one. 

Mr. Briefs stares down at his drink with a wistful smile. 

"So I thought of her as my very beautiful friend," he says. "There was no way that a talented, brilliant, sociable, beautiful, and extremely accomplished musician would want a nerd like me."

Raditz nods. He's not sure what the point of all of this is, if there is any. Surely, this guy doesn't want to visit with him. Raditz' presence is just part of one his daughter's whims. If there's anything Raditz has learned about him, it's that he's a sucker for both his wife and daughter.

Not that it's a bad thing; he's not a simpering fool for them. So, on that line of thought, he's not sure why Mr. Briefs is sitting here reminiscing.

"Then, classes ended for the spring," Mr. Briefs continues. "We were apart the whole summer. I was working hard at inventions; she was playing orchestra shows. And, in those days, we didn't have a great way to keep in touch. The both of us were too befuddled to get each others' phone numbers, back in the spring."

Raditz nods. "Sounds like you nearly missed your chance."

"Ah, I nearly did," he admits. "We pined away for each other all summer. Eventually, fall classes started up again, and we ended up running into each other back at that same rec center. A bunch of us were going to go see a movie, so I let her know I'd take her and give her a ride."

Mr. Briefs laughs and shakes his head. 

"Imagine my shock when we said goodbye that night, and she kissed me! I had no idea I was on a date!"

Raditz chuckles. "How does someone go on a date, and not know they're on a date?"

Not that he has any clue; he fucks a lot, but he hasn't dated, ever. The closest he has is whatever weird shit he got down to with Vegeta, and that was fucking around with each other for convenience and safety while blasted out of their minds. 

"I was never good at that stuff," Mr. Briefs admits. "I even flubbed my proposal with her; we dated for quite a long time. Eventually, she had an opportunity with an orchestra halfway around the world. She told me that our relationship needed to go somewhere, or she was going to take the opportunity."

He chuckles to himself and takes a sip of his drink. 

"So, a few days later, I ended up asking her, 'how would you like to help plan a wedding, maybe in June?'. She says, 'whose wedding?'. Oh, she will not let me live that horrible proposal down."

Raditz doesn't have a nice story like that about his parents. He likes to think that they were wholesome, for Saiyans. They certainly were a bit different. 

"Saiyans get married," Raditz says. "But we weren't out loud about it, like Earthlings. At least, I don't think we were. My parents were really young and I'm pretty sure I was an accident. So, maybe they rushed and kept quiet about it. My father was a bit distant like he didn't know what to do with me, so it would make sense. They planned for Kakarot, though."

He's pretty sure his father didn't want him. Has he ever been wanted? He's been a nuisance for as long as he can remember. 

Raditz is an absolute fucking fuckup.

Sighing, he downs the rest of his drink, then puts his head in his hands.

"Ugh. Can I have the whole bottle of that?"

After a short silence, Raditz looks up to see Mr. Briefs looking at him with furrowed brows.

"Young man," he says, "that's not going to give you anything but a bad headache tomorrow."

"Yeah, but I'll sleep."

"Scientifically speaking, it won't improve your sleep," he says. "Come on, now; you're a smart young man. You know alcohol won't help you."

Raditz stares at the empty glass in thought. He's seen you drink while here, but you're never out of control or sick from it. 

You're made of tougher stuff than he is. In some ways, there's more structure and incentive to behave here than in the PTO. He can't get lost among a crowd of similarly rough people. Everyone here is clean and damn-near pious. 

He has no right to lose sleep over you getting upset at him. Raditz is a filthy man of little morals. His touch taints you.

You kicking him out of bed is you waking up to how much of a loser he is.

"You really have no idea," Raditz sighs. 

Mr. Briefs shrugs and caps the alcohol without pouring more for either one of them. 

"I'll give you that," he says. "I don't know how terrible you've had it and can't begin to imagine. But, maybe the inverse is true. You don't know how good things can get. The thing is, you've got the opportunity here to find out."

Raditz doesn't know what to say to that. 

"Your residence here is not transactional," Mr. Briefs continues. "Of course, we would love if you can help against these cyborgs, but it's not a requirement to staying here. You've kept your head down and out of trouble. I sincerely hope it's done so willingly, and not out of fear."

Raditz is absolutely behaving out of fear. If it's not fear of Nappa, it's Vegeta. And Kakarot. And the Briefs family and the fact that they are essentially royalty on this planet. 

Raditz is on the bottom, and it's not too different than being in PTO. Has he actually had a choice?

Touching you doesn't even feel like it was a choice, sometimes. He can't stop thinking about you, even after you made him fuck off. He's an absolute sucker for you. 

He doesn't deserve any of the kindness he receives. Being treated well honestly fucking hurts. 

Raditz does a great job of fucking things up, though. That niceness goes away as soon as people see who he really is.

"If you do want to help with the cyborgs," Mr. Briefs says, "Yamcha would probably love to have a training partner. I don't know Vegeta like you do, but I get the feeling that him booting you from training has more to do with his own struggles than you."

Raditz sighs. "I don't know. I don't really understand the Earthling way of fighting. It makes no sense to me." 

He hopes this conversation goes better than with you. He's being fully honest with this man, rather than trying to make himself look more important. Hopefully, wording it like this is not offensive.

"That's fair," Mr. Briefs says. "But I'm sure you've encountered hundreds of different societies in your lifetime. You don't have to reject your heritage. I don't think Yamcha is about that kind of thing, at all."

"Anyway, I'm just an old guy blabbering on," he chuckles. "But think about it. Maybe, consider trying a path you've never taken before. Doing things differently can be intimidating, even frightening at times. But, remaining stagnant? That's something that gives a man lifelong regrets."

Mr. Briefs sighs, stands, and grabs the bottle and empty glasses. 

"I've probably talked your ear off," he says. "But, I do like you, Raditz. I really do. It's a shame that you've been made to feel like a nuisance. You're a fine young man, and you are sincerely welcome in my home."

It's good that he walks away when he does. Raditz can't stomach the idea of him hearing the choked sob that escapes his mouth. 

What has he ever done to deserve such kindness? 

Crybaby Raditz curls in on himself on the porch in the dark, hugs his knees, and hates every single tear that manages to fall. He's a grown-ass man, for fuck's sake!

Raditz tries to distract himself by looking at his phone.  He checks Reddit, and the pissed off replies and messages remind him that Mr. Briefs is probably the only person in the universe who actually tolerates him. The man might even like him.

And, Raditz still doesn't understand how he hurt you so much.

It isn't until he finds a DM from the cat-guy who explained his sniffing to him that he starts to get it.

They're sensitive, on this planet. They have strong feelings. Raditz probably made you feel like he took you as a pity fuck. You probably think he thinks you're beneath him. 

 He doesn't have your contact info, and even if he did, he's pretty sure you don't want to see him ever again. 

When Raditz is certain that his feelings have left his face and it's safe to be seen, he gets up, heads to his room, tosses his clothes off, and goes to bed. 

It doesn't surprise him when he can't fall asleep. There's a knot in his stomach, and his bed doesn't smell comforting.

Raditz wishes that he stole one of your shirts to keep with him in bed. When he's next to you in bed, he sleeps well; it's perhaps the best sleep he's had since Mama was killed. Your smell might help him fall asleep. 

It's so fucking stupid. Is he projecting his mother onto you? Because, that's a whole 'nother layer of fucked up, if he is. He probably just wants to cuddle like a sissy.

He wishes Mr. Briefs let him drink that whole bottle. That stuff is strong enough that he knows he'd be asleep, by now. 

Unable to fall asleep, but unwilling to move, Raditz stays in bed, as useless as a stone.

It isn't until much later that Raditz hears Vegeta coming in. He's a bit noisier than usual, but he's sure that it's Vegeta wanting to ruin his sleep in revenge. 

Raditz is sure that it would please Vegeta to no end to know that he's in a sleepless hell of his own making. 

The bathroom light flicks on across the hall. The door shuts loudly and there's some tumbling around. 

The sound of retching has him sitting up in bed. 

Raditz waits a minute or so. All he hears is more retching. Nappa seems to be sleeping deeply like he usually does, these days; Vegeta works the old man hard. 

Sighing, Raditz slides out of bed and pulls his shorts on. Stepping out into the hallway, he makes his way to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out a jug of juice. He grabs the nearby salt shaker and dumps some of it into the juice. 

Raditz is fairly sure that Vegeta is sick from training too hard. He's not guzzling booze, and he keeps to himself so much that it's unlikely he's caught something.

Food poisoning? Raditz doesn't think it's possible for a Saiyan, unless they eat something absolutely foul. Humans get food poisoning easily, though. Saiyans are objectively better, in that regard.

Is that an okay thing to think? He can ask the cat guy, he supposes. 

He caps the juice and walks back down the hall, shaking the jug as he goes. Steeling himself, he stops in front of the door, and waits for a pause in the retching to knock. 

"Go away."

Vegeta sounds pitiful. Raditz knows he's going to catch shit for this, but he can't just sit back and listen to Vegeta hurting himself so badly. He's got to do something. 

Is this a family trait? Kakarot is like this, and Mama always fussed over people. 

Raditz opens the door, and sure enough, Vegeta is on the floor and barely able to sit up. He's leaning over the toilet, so, at least there's no mess. 

"You're hurting yourself," Raditz says. 

His voice comes out of his mouth surprisingly devoid of emotion. 

"Don't need help," Vegeta croaks. 

That's a load of shit. 

Sighing, Raditz hands the jug to Vegeta, who begins to slowly sip it. He needs fluids and salt and whatever the fuck else; the juice will take care of it. 

Now is the time he'd kneel down next to Vegeta and rub his back, but no longer. There's something irrevocably broken between them. 

What the hell has he done to deserve so much hate from Vegeta? 

Still, Raditz is stupid, so he's going to help him. He knows damn well that if the situation were reversed, Vegeta wouldn't lift a finger, and never would have. 

Vegeta braces his trembling hands on the toilet and tries to push himself up. Unsurprisingly, he's too weak to stand. 

"Let me carry you," Raditz says. 

"I c'n walk," Vegeta slurs. "Don-need yer help."

He does, in fact, need Raditz' help. 

"Will you let me do it for my sake, then?" Raditz says. "I'm going to worry if I can't."

He will worry a little, but it's mostly a lie. Raditz is more annoyed with him being a pain in the ass. 

"Fine," Vegeta mumbles. "I'll coddle your weakness just this once."

Raditz grits his teeth, but bears the insult all the same. It's more like he's coddling Vegeta's weakness. 

It's sad, to be honest. He wonders how they got to this point; Raditz dislikes, almost hates, Vegeta now. 

Wordlessly, Raditz scoops him up, jug and all, and carries him out of the bathroom and down the hall toward his bed. 

Vegeta is much heavier than usual. His power level is growing, and so are his muscles. He looks cuter when he's tiny, but the extra muscle means that he's thriving now, rather than merely surviving as he did in the PTO. 

Raditz hopes tonight's setback doesn't become a habit. He's taken a vow to protect Vegeta, but after learning that Vegeta didn't give a shit about reviving him—

Raditz fights the urge to drop the prick on the floor and let him crawl to bed. He's too soft for his own good.

He opens the door to Vegeta's bedroom, steps inside, and approaches the bed. Flipping the covers back, he gently places Vegeta down in an upright position. 

"Please drink more," Raditz mumbles. 

Vegeta rolls his eyes, but does as suggested. 

While he's drinking more juice, Raditz goes back out into the hall and to the bathroom. He flushes the toilet, grabs the nearby trashcan, removes the bag lining it, and takes the empty can with him back out into the hall, flipping the bathroom light off on his way out. 

When he returns to the bedroom, Vegeta is thankfully still vertical. He gives him another minute to sip some of the juice before helping him lie down on his side; Vegeta is so weak from overtraining that his protesting swats are a mere tap of his hands. 

Gods. What a fucking mess.

Still, Raditz slides a pillow under his head, covers him, and places the trashcan on its side right in front of Vegeta's face. The jug of juice is within reach, as well. 

Without a word, Raditz leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. He goes back to his own room, slips his shorts off, and slides back into bed. 

He thinks of you again, and sighs. Raditz still doesn't have a clue as to why you asked him, of all people, to take your virginity. Though Vegeta is pathetic right now, he's never been like that around you. Vegeta is a big fucking deal.

And, why not Yamcha? If you like a bigger guy, he's tall. He's probably the hottest human male Raditz has seen. He's charming and fun. A decent figher, too, apparently. 

He's friendly. He's—

He's trying to be Raditz' friend. Maybe. But, probably not. 

Yamcha offers to train him.

Maybe Raditz should try it out. Vegeta won't let him into the GR, after all.

When is he going to be done with accepting crumbs of attention from Vegeta? 

That's all it is, too: crumbs.

The smartest man on the planet advises him to try a new path. Raditz would be a fool to not consider it.

He checks Reddit and reads a message from the cat guy:

Shit dude I can't imagine how tough that was for you, having to work for the guy who killed your tribe while you grew up. And I can see how that could make you feel a lot of complex stuff about species/race and all that. 

Regardless of what this woman thinks, it sounds like you've got some great people in your life who want to see you succeed. It's hard for men to talk about how we feel, especially when it's something that isnt anger.

Fwiw I'm honored that you were willing to share so much with me. If you've got any stories or folklore of your tribe, I'd love to hear them! It sounds like there's a strong culture of duty and honor. Humans value those things a lot, too.  I bet you might find some things in common :)

(See: Greek and Roman army traditions, Queen Boudica, WWI trench buddies, Daniel Daly, probably some others I'm forgetting rn)

Something to think about, in regards to humans: physical strength, a keen sense of smell and hearing, and fast reflexes don't necessarily mean superiority. They're just differences. After all, your lady friend is physically weaker than most other humans, and that doesn't make her less than all the others. It's easy though to latch onto something like that when you've been treated badly your whole life. My dms are always open, man. life's fucking complicated and hard 

Raditz rereads the message at least three times. It's awfully nice of this guy to be like this, and he doesn't think he will like Raditz if he meets him in person. 

This planet really is emotional. You're more emotional than you let on. 

Raditz isn't getting anywhere with doing things the same way he's always done them.

Okay. He will try to train with Yamcha, then. He can always quit. You'll be happy if he at least tries it. 

That is, if you care to talk to him ever again. Training with Yamcha is probably as good of an apology as he can give, though.

Raditz thinks of you as he finally drifts off to sleep. 

Tomorrow will be different. 

Chapter Text

It's clear to Yamcha from the start that whatever the Saiyans do for training, it isn't remotely what they call training on Earth. 

Raditz fights on raw talent alone. He has no technique to speak of. Sure, there are some signature moves; ki attacks frequently are, since ki is like a spiritual fingerprint. 

Well, it's raw talent, and something else:

Raditz is smart. 

Specifically, he's sneaky smart. 

When he's fighting and realizes he can't just tank his way through a situation, he fights in a clever, underhanded way. 

Yamcha is glad that Raditz hasn't tried to kick him in the dick. He suspects that in a real fight, he will. 

He's probably a biter, too. Yamcha doesn't want to be on the other end of those teeth; one look at the guy yawning makes him think —again— of a lion. 

Yeah, it's good none of this is real fighting.

Still, the guy's strikes are all aimed to be killing blows. There's no alternatives or finesse to what he does. 

To Raditz, and maybe, to the Saiyans in general, fighting and killing mean the same thing.

Talking Raditz through the idea of why he might need to keep an enemy alive, then release them, is slow-going. Yamcha doesn't want to use you as a way to try to convince him, though. Raditz should decide to do good things because he wants to do them, not because he knows that someone else wants him to do them. 

It's also fascinating to see such a huge, muscular guy with so much flexibility. Raditz is the last person Yamcha would expect to be able to oversplit. Flexibility is definitely handy for a fight, and people won't expect it out of him. 

Yamcha is stronger than Raditz, but not for long. He's making incredible progress, just as Yamcha predicted. 

The tail weakness concerns him a lot. Yamcha can't decide if he should talk to Nappa about it for advice, or Goku. They both have tail training under their belt, but there's pros and cons to each. 

Nappa is friendly to Raditz, but his methods might be excruciating. Goku doesn't like the guy, but his methods might be less painful. 

They have time to think about it, though.

There is so much potential, here. Unlike what people assume, the guy is smart. And no, he's not lazy. In fact, Yamcha is the one who has to set reasonable times for training, or the guy will run himself to exhaustion. 

They're taking a mid-day break for lunch, and Yamcha is famished. If Yamcha is this hungry, he can't imagine how hungry Raditz is.

They pass by the GR, which is up and running at all hours, again. Yamcha thinks about how gross and hot it probably is in there, and wonders if Vegeta and Nappa ought to take some time outside to enjoy the fresh, spring air. But, he prefers Vegeta to stay in there; the more he's in there, the less time he will spend out here. 

Yamcha is a lot of things, but he isn't stupid. 

He wasn't a good guy for a while. He lived like a jackal— wild, aggressive, opportunistic— a scavenger and a user.

It takes one to know one, and, well—

Vegeta is a jackal. 

And Yamcha sees Vegeta eyeing Bulma like she's his next supper. 

Yamcha likes Bulma's friend a lot, but man, he wishes now that Raditz hit it off with Bulma, instead. He's rough around the edges, no doubt. But at the core, he's a lost guy trying to become a good guy. 

Raditz is hungry for something better, and he's clawing his way out of the rut he's stuck in to try to find it. 

Vegeta is also lost, but his efforts are all angry and selfish. He probably doesn't even want to admit that he's lost. 

He's an absolute nightmare, and Yamcha doesn't want him anywhere near his longtime friend. The fact that she's his ex has absolutely nothing to do with it. 

Yamcha hopes that Bulma doesn't catch on to Vegeta's staring. There's absolutely no way she'll be able to stay away from him if she does. She lives for the thrill of adventure and can't resist a dangerous man. And Vegeta is the epitome of danger.

He really, really doesn't want to see Bulma get hurt. Life is so good right now, and he's just waiting for something bad to happen. 

He's even got Krillin over to train with them. 

It's nice to walk back to the house for a nice lunch, together with his buddies.

Yamcha looks at Krillin and sighs.

"Man, I'm glad you came along," he says. "You're reminding me of a bunch of stuff I've forgotten."

Krillin chuckles. "Yeah, no worries. I'm having fun. It's so boring training alone. And I'm learning stuff from both of you, too." 

Yamcha glances over to see Raditz giving Krillin a skeptical look. The guy is always suspicious of compliments. 

"I mean it," Krillin says. "You've got way more fighting experience than both of us combined. A lot of what we learn is theory and sparring. Though that's got its uses, of course." 

Raditz furrows his brows. "So, are you ready to kill these cyborgs? Will you follow through on it?"

Yamcha shrugs. 

"We have had to kill, before," he says. "We don't do it lightly, though."

Krillin nods in agreement. "Yeah, we're ready to do it, if that's what it takes."

They walk into the entrance to the house —and calling it a house is gracious— and walk toward the elevators. 

Bulma's family home is more like a modern palace. 

"You can't hesitate," Raditz says. "One second is all it takes."

"For what?" Yamcha asks. 

"For you to get killed," Raditz says. "And I swear to fucking God, if either one of you dies—"

"Ah it's okay," Yamcha says. "You don't have to be worried about us, though I do appreciate that you care." 

Raditz clenches his jaw and looks away. 

"I don't care," he insists. 

Krillin glances over at him. 

"You don't have to be tsunsere about friendship," he chuckles. 

Yamcha blinks in confusion. 

"I don't know what you're taking about."

He bursts out in laughter as he realizes that Raditz said the exact same thing, at the same time. 

They do this, every now and then, and it's hilarious every time. 

He looks up to see that Raditz is laughing, too.

What a cool guy. 

And Krillin's a cool guy, too. A cool nerd, to be precise. And that's fun, too. 

Life is good. Yamcha going to make the best out of it.

He can't worry about the future too much, if he's doing everything he can, right now. 

You feel horrible in both new and familiar ways. 

The familiar is the same shit, different day with your pain. The new is an intense heartache you haven't felt before. 

In the back of your mind, there's a weird thought that this somehow isn't over with Raditz, and that you just have to hang in there and wait it out. 

It's illogical and you hate that feeling. You hate that you think about him so much. You hate the feeling that you will never come across anyone so beautiful and sweet like him ever again. 

Sweet? He says you're great, but he thinks your species is worthless. So, what might he say about your friends and family?

They are not worthless; they are everything to you. They give you reason to keep going. They remind you that you're worth something, even when you don't feel like you are.

You sniffle and shake your head. You're not crying today. You've given this up to the universe and will have nothing further to do with it unless it is meant to happen. 

You have more important things to worry about, anyway. 

Your health is in worse shape than before. It's bad enough that you're concerned that something else is wrong. At your last controlled medication refill appointment, your doctor was very concerned, and ordered extensive bloodwork. 

Bloodwork takes a while, sometimes. You hope desperately that you're somehow deficient in a vitamin, and that taking another supplement will sort the whole thing out. 

Maybe, it will be true, this time. You desperately hope so. 

You curl up on the couch with a blanket and two heating pads. Occupying yourself online in some way is usually not too hard. 

You startle at your phone suddenly ringing. Nobody calls; few people text. Looking down at the caller ID, you see that it's from your doctor. 

Okay. Hopefully, something is wrong.

You steel yourself and answer the phone. 

The nurse on the other end confirms that she is, indeed, talking to you, then tells you how it is:

"So I have good news!" She nurse says. "Your labs all came back normal and you're healthy. So, you'll just need to come back as needed."

Fuck. 

You choke back a sob and stumble through thanking the nurse, saying goodbye, and hanging up. 

Your resolution to not cry today crumbles as soon as you're off the phone.

Flopping down, you bury your face in your pillow and sob.

You're "healthy". You're fucking "healthy". 

You can barely cook a meal but you're healthy. 

You hurt so much that it takes you over an hour to leave bed every morning, but you're healthy. 

You're so exhausted that your entire day feels like you've just woken up, but you're healthy. 

You're healthy on fucking paper and there's nothing that can be done to help you feel even the slightest bit better.

You hurt and you're all alone. There's nobody on the fucking planet who is going to want someone so fucking damaged.

It hurts. It hurts to breathe— to exist. 

But, you keep existing, because that's who you are. This illness will have to fight you into the ground, because you're not going to fucking quit. 

This shit is too much, though. You can't catch a goddamn break. 

Sitting up, you check your discord and see that you have a message. 

It's Bulma. You ignore the tears blurring your vision and read it. 

sirenia_fragaria: 👋 how are you feeling today? i know you've been feeling worse than usual

schrodingers-illness: well, i had to put miralax in my coffee today, so that's how I'm doing 🫤

sirenia_fragaria: oh no! I'm so sorry. did your doctor get back to you?

schrodingers-illness: yeah, my bloodwork was "normal" so I'm "healthy". the nurse just called and acted like it was great news.

You choke back another sob. Fucking hell.

sirenia_fragaria: shit I am so sorry. I know they mean well when they say that, but it's bad news for someone who is feeling worse. 

schrodingers-illness: it really is. 

sirenia_fragaria: is there anything I can do?

schrodingers-illness: honestly, just listening helps. there's nothing that can fix this. 

sirenia_fragaria: no problemo 👌 god I wish I was better at genetic engineering. I'd love to find the gene behind that thing, and maybe some way to modify/fix it. or something. 

schrodingers-illness: people have been working on it for a very long time. don't feel like you've got to solve this 

sirenia_fragaria: 😞I know. I still wish I could do something more permanent

schrodingers-illness: don't underestimate the value of your friendship ❤️ seriously

sirenia_fragaria: and same to you, tbh. you mean so much to me.

schrodingers-illness: ❤️

You grab a tissue and dry the last of your tears. It sucks that you have no answers as to why you're worse. But, friends like Bulma make everything a little more bearable. 

A disabled life is still a life worth living, and you're going to give it your best shot.

Raditz is doing okay. Yamcha and Krillin both keep saying to take things one day at a time, and doing so is what keeps him sane, most days.

Training outside of high gravity is working better for Raditz than training inside it.

Also, since he's not training with Vegeta and his bullshit anymore, his belly ring and nipple piercings are back in. He feels kinda naked without them, and not a good sort of naked. 

He really wants to go get a gigantic, black tattoo on his shoulder and down his arm, but his research tells him that doing so is a process. It takes a long time to fill it in, and, even with his advanced Saiyan healing, sweating is not advisable during the healing process.

Raditz doesn't have time to pause for something like that. He can't slow down while he's in the middle of a little bit of good fortune. 

The human training methods work. They fucking work and he's a dumbass for not going along with it on day one. 

One of Kakarot's other friends has joined them for training. Yamcha says that Krillin is the most powerful human alive. 

Of course, this is the guy who Raditz slapped with his tail. And, of course, Krillin is so powerful that he's got to go easy on both of them. 

So much for a weak, inferior species. Fucking hell, the dude's tough. 

They're done with training for the day, and Raditz isn't absolutely exhausted and battered like he is when he trains with Vegeta and Nappa. 

They've got time to sit around and talk, which is not something Raditz has the luxury of doing often. That's quickly changing, though.

"You're doing great," Yamcha says. 

Raditz shrugs. This guy is nice; he's probably too nice. 

Krillin nods in agreement. He is also probably too nice.

"We fought Frieza's top guys on Namek," Krillin says. "There was a red guy with white hair. From what I remember, you're about an even match for him, now."

Raditz can't hide the look of shock on his face. 

"I'm serious!" Krillin chuckles. 

"Jeice?" He gapes. 

"Yeah, that was his name," he says. "I forgot. Boy, those guys sure gave us some trouble."

Raditz can't believe it. He's as strong as Jeice, now.

Fucking Jeice. One of Frieza's elite fighting force. 

This is insane. Raditz' max power level when he came to Earth was around 1,500. It has stayed there for most of his adult life. 

He can't think too much about what might have been, if he had this power while in the PTO. 

Power is safety. 

And yet, this amount is not enough. These cyborgs are stronger than a Super Saiyan. 

"Hey man," Yamcha says. "You good?"

Raditz blinks and pushes the thoughts aside. 

"Only when I feel like it," he says. 

Yamcha laughs. "Yeah I bet you can really throw down."

He doesn't need to start getting into that stuff, again. Raditz doesn't know if Yamcha understands how unwholesome his brand of fun is. 

He's sure that Yamcha has fun sometimes. But, the guy isn't ready for a fraction of what Raditz gets up to. 

Not that it matters; Vegeta doesn't want Raditz to have fun. 

"Oh, since Krillin is here, maybe we should go out," Yamcha says. "Gotta have some fun, every now and then."

Raditz shakes his head.

"I probably shouldn't start getting into that," he admits.

"We don't have to pick up women," Yamcha laughs. "I think Bulma's friend would be very jealous, anyway."

Raditz is shocked to hear this. Have you not told them what happened?

Shit. He's so unimportant to you that your spat is of little to no significance. 

"No," Raditz says. "I'm not going out, unless you want deal with a coked up Saiyan. If it's in front of me, it's gonna go in my face."

He hears enough about it that he knows he'll like it if he tries it. Raditz' willpower for resisting stuff like that ends when he decides to go out.

Yamcha winces. "Yeah we don't need to get you coked up. That stuff's everywhere. But, a real man knows his limitations. So, I'm glad you said something."

Raditz shrugs. That's a little too complimentary and over the top, for his tastes. 

"I guess," he says. "Knowing better never stopped me before, though."

Yamcha gives him an odd look.

"Alright," Raditz snorts. "You've clearly got some burning questions."

"You, uh... did drugs?"

Raditz laughs. "Everyone did that shit."

"Vegeta let you do that?"

"Ha! Vegeta did that! The tough part was hiding it from Nappa, who was probably one of the only guys who didn't."

Raditz feels his fingers twitch like he's going to flick the ash off of a smoke. At this point, it's more of a reflex than anything. The good thing about stasis for a year, then being dead for two-ish more years is that he's got a clean slate, as far as physical dependence is concerned. 

Well, except for you. He wakes up from dreaming about you, sometimes, and he's always rock hard and sweating. 

It's weird, as far as withdrawal is concerned. That's all he can compare it to.

"I'm surprised," Yamcha says. "Vegeta doesn't seem like the type." 

Raditz chuckles and shakes his head. 

"He's changed a lot," he says. "And with this situation going on here, we're all going to behave. Well, kind of. I tried."

Krillin crosses his arms. "You tried?"

"I can't resist a pretty face," he says. 

Yamcha chuckles. "Gotcha."

"Poor Nappa," Raditz says. "If the old man knew half the shit we got up to, I think he woulda' lost even more hair— eyebrows and all of that shit."

Yamcha and Krillin laugh. 

"If Roshi wasn't bald when we met him," Krillin says, "I think we would have made him go bald from worry, too."

Yamcha glances over at Raditz.

"So, got any more secrets about Vegeta?" He asks.

Raditz shakes his head. 

"I'm not suicidal," he says. "Alright, well, just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"He's got this thing for blue chicks," he says. "Just likes 'em blue— skin, hair, whatever. Not much of a secret though; he'll admit to it. Not into blue dudes, though. Weird."

Yamcha gives him an odd look, and Raditz realizes right away what he's thinking.

"Your planet here is a bit rigid," he says. "Travel out there among the stars, though, and you'll find there's a lot of types of people. Same gender stuff is not too shocking, for most people. If you wanna hook up, you've got to figure out how to make it work across species."

"Oh?"

"I hooked up with a chick," he says. "Four tits, five eyes, gray skin, pincers, and a cloaca. Wasn't high; just drunk. Not my proudest fuck. But I'm sure she tells her friends about the squishy pink freak she got with and says I was not her proudest fuck."

Actually, the sight of his cum made her gag. And she was squeamish about his genitals being outside his body by default. That's probably a bit too much to share, though. 

Yamcha nods slowly. He's visibly trying to process everything.

"So, humans are?" he says.

While Yamcha doesn't ask a question directly, Raditz understands the implication:

Spill the info. Flattering info only, please.

Raditz closes his eyes and thinks of you. Humans are— well, they're—

He completely understands why Kakarot went native. The scent of these creatures calls to him. 

To Raditz, the scent of you, in particular, stirs up a primal part of him he's never felt before. He doesn't want to admit it out loud, but you're the closest thing to a Saiyan woman that he will ever experience. 

You are the strongest, most addictive substance he's ever tried. And, he's fucked up his chances to ever have another hit.

Raditz opens his eyes. 

"Shocking," he says. "You have to understand; I've been so many places. The compatibility with humans is absolutely shocking. Other than your hair and eye colors, and lack of tails, your kind could pass as non-combat Saiyans."

"Wow. Really?"

Raditz fights the urge to roll his eyes and give a smartass answer. He said what he said. Is he supposed to just repeat it?

"I guess it makes sense," Yamcha mumbles. "Your brother passed as a human his entire life."

Good. He's catching on.

"Maybe, we should just go out and find a girl for Krillin," Yamcha says.

Krillin shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm not into that," He says. "I want to have feelings for someone before I have sex with them."

Raditz nods, but stays quiet. That's the weirdest shit he's ever heard. 

"Ah, you're a romantic, then," Yamcha says. 

He blushes. "Yeah, Maron was my first and only, so far."

Yamcha sighs. "She was dumb, but sweet."

Raditz has no idea what they're talking about, at this point. 

Yamcha goes through his phone for a few seconds, then leans over to show Raditz a photo.

There's an absolutely stunning woman in a tiny swimsuit. It takes a moment for him to register that she has blue hair and eyes, like Bulma. It takes even longer to recognize that the swimsuit is yellow.

Oh. And there's Krillin next to her.

Oh!

Right, okay. 

"Yeah, Krillin can get a girl like that," Yamcha says.

Raditz nods. There's something about this guy, on this planet, then. He's online enough to know that Krillin isn't considered attractive. Krillin is below average, in fact.

"How did you do it?" Yamcha asks. 

Raditz wonders the same thing. 

Krillin shrugs. "Women are people. Just treat them like people."

Yamcha nods slowly. 

"So," Raditz muses, "women on this planet are susceptible to the bare minimum. Good to know, I guess." 

Krillin laughs. "It's sadly true. There are a lot of awful guys out there who make a variety of mistakes. No matter the case, though, they don't keep in mind that women are just people."

Yamcha gives Krillin a pointed look and he sighs. 

"And yes," Krillin adds, "I'm aware that I didn't follow my own advice, with Maron. I broke up with her because I thought she was too good for me. But, I think, at the time, I considered myself as less of a person than her. So, it's kinda different."

Yamcha exhales. 

"Damn, dude."

Raditz nods in agreement. That's a hell of a statement. 

"You got any dating advice, Raditz?" Yamcha asks. 

Raditz laughs. 

"Oh, hell no," he says. "If you think I had time for that, then you don't understand the PTO."

Yamcha laughs. "Okay, so, hookups only."

"Yep." 

"How many people have you slept with?"

Raditz is glad he's online enough to know that the phrase "slept with" means "fucked", but in more polite terms. 

If one uses the phrase literally, Raditz can count on one hand the people he's fallen asleep with, if passing out doesn't count. 

If he uses it in prospect context, to mean the amount of people he's fucked—

"I don't know," he says. "It has to be several hundreds."

When everything hurts, he reaches for things that make him feel good. 

"Good lord, dude," Yamcha gapes. 

"I don't think I'm going to continue that trend, here," Raditz says. 

Krillin nods. "Well, you're a free man. You don't seem to want to hurt people, and so long as you're not hurting yourself, I support whatever you want to do."

His words give Raditz an unexpected pang of something he can't identify. It feels like gratitude, but it's a bit different, and it's sure a hell of a lot stronger. 

Mr. Briefs gives him this feeling, from time to time. 

Raditz shrugs it off and pretends that it doesn't have any meaning.

"Learning how to actually relax is," he sighs. "Well, it's interesting."

"Oh, I bet," Yamcha says. "I can't imagine Frieza being anything less than a horrible boss, with time off."

Krillin shakes his head. "With everything, probably. That was the absolute worst guy I've ever, ever met, and probably ever will."

Raditz nods. 

"It's hard to believe he's gone," he admits.

"You can do what you want, now," Krillin says. "Follow your dreams— all that good stuff."

Raditz nods again. Does he have any dreams? He can't think of any, aside from surviving. 

Yamcha yawns and stretches. 

"Speaking of dreams," he says, "I'm exhausted. I'm gonna get to bed."

He stands, and Krillin stands as well.

"That's a good idea," he replies. 

Raditz has a hard time telling when he's actually tired. Usually, he goes to bed when he's absolutely exhausted. 

He's not sure if Yamcha knows what true exhaustion feels like. But, maybe he does. The guy says he's a former bandit. 

Raditz stands and follows them into the living area, where they part ways. He goes to get some water, then, as soon as they are gone, he grabs a spoon out of the drawer, and makes his way back toward his room.

This might be the last of the cookie butter; he treats himself to a scoop of it here and there, but it's bound to run out sometime. 

Raditz steps into his bedroom, shuts the door, and takes the hidden jar of cookie butter out from under the bed. Unscrewing the cap, he peers down into the jar and sighs. 

Yep. That's probably the last of it. He's got to find a way to get some more without letting Nappa or Vegeta in on his secret. 

There's a huge spoonful left, and he plans to enjoy it. Raditz scrapes out every possible bit he can from the jar, shoves the spoon into his mouth, then removes it with a sigh. 

The rich, sweet flavor has him thinking of you. He wishes for a way to try to explain himself better to you, but he also realizes that he can't count on it. 

Raditz looks down at the spoon and figures he ought to put it in the dishwasher right away. He steps out of his room and closes the door behind him as the cookie butter slowly dissolves in his mouth. 

"What are you eating?"

Raditz wheels around to see Vegeta immediately to his left. 

"It's gone," Raditz says, around his mouthful of cookie butter.

Vegeta narrows his eyes. Before Raditz can react, Vegeta snags a handful of his hair and yanks him down to face level. He brutally slams their mouths together and takes advantage of Raditz' shocked gasp to plunder his mouth with his tongue.

This is happening, and they're both stone-cold sober. 

Raditz is terrified. Vegeta has slowly become more and more unhinged, and whatever happened on Namek is what Raditz believes started it. Then, the Super Saiyan kid from the future is what did him in.

Afraid of the consequences of resisting, Raditz sinks to his knees as low as he can go, until Vegeta is taller than him. He resents the thrill of pleasure that zips through him as he returns the kiss. 

Their tongues tangle for a moment, until the cookie butter and Raditz' dignity and resistance are gone. 

Raditz is kneeling so low that he's sitting and his legs are turned out to the sides. He braces himself with his hands on the floor in front of him.

He's sitting like a dog, really. Vegeta has always been abusive, but this is the first time Raditz can recall that anything sexual has been added to it. 

Raditz wants to deal with Drunk Vegeta, instead. Drunk Vegeta doesn't humiliate him. Drunk Vegeta lets loose. Drunk Vegeta is almost affectionate.

Sober Vegeta pulls back and stares at him with hooded eyes. 

"Delicious." 

He blinks a second, then gives Raditz' hair a sharp tug.

"Whatever that food is," Vegeta scowls, "You'd better have some for me, and soon. You're taking nice things and keeping them all to yourself. You better remember your place, and remember it quickly, peasant." 

It's one thing for Vegeta to steal food off of his plate. But now? He's stolen it right out of his mouth. 

Raditz gives him a terrified nod. Without warning, Vegeta lets go of his hair, slams him against the wall, then turns on his heel to storm off to the bathroom down the hallway. 

Vegeta doesn't like that Raditz is taking nice things and keeping them to himself, but all Raditz can think of is the cookie—

Oh, no. 

Vegeta is talking about you. 

Vegeta is a nasty, violent asshole, but surely, he won't hurt you. 

Right?

Raditz scurries back into his bedroom and locks the door— what little good it will do. He's not sure what Vegeta will do, to be honest. Vegeta takes whatever he wants, but now, he's an utter maniac. 

Well, if it comes down to it, Raditz will offer himself instead of letting Vegeta have you. 

He will even grovel to Kakarot if he has to.

Raditz has to do something to get his mind off of how terrifyingly unpredictable Vegeta has become. He goes online, browses Reddit, and whatever else, but it still doesn't set him straight. 

Your scent would be such a comfort to him, right now. But, you're not here, and he doesn't have anything—

Oh, wait. He does. 

Raditz has a sneaky secret of shame securely zipped away in a plastic bag. It's in a zipped bag, because the scent will attract a keen nose. 

He will never hear the end of it if someone finds out about his secret: 

Your panties. 

And, like all drugs, he hides them under his mattress. He hasn't had a hit of this one yet, though.

Raditz quickly withdraws the bag, and unzips it to remove the panties.

They must be an older pair; the elastic on them is worn, and the color is a bit faded. They're nothing special to look at.

But the smell embedded in them? Oh, that is a treasure. 

Nobody has to know about this. It's fine. 

It doesn't have to be a sex thing anyway. He just wants to smell you. 

Raditz lifts the panties to his face and delicately sniffs at the crotch. The intimate smell makes him slap his hand over his mouth to stifle a groan. His dick slams to attention. 

Raditz involuntarily draws his lips up and sucks in air over his front teeth. His nose scrunches and his jaw quivers. Your scent hits him like a tidal wave, and in the next second, he's desperately yanking his shorts down to ease his frustration. 

Nobody can ever know about this. It's not fine. 

This is absolutely a sex thing. He wants to really smell you. 

He's not gentle on himself at all. All he wants is some relief, and he sets a brutal pace to get there. In less than a minute, he's gasping and making an absolute mess all over his hand, shirt, and shorts. 

Gasping and inhaling like that so close to your dirty panties has only worsened the problem. 

He becomes a whining, writhing mess as he mercilessly drags three more orgasms from his desperate, addicted body. 

Even then, it's still not enough. 

He told you that he was going to ruin you, even for your own hands. 

Raditz didn't expect he'd ruin himself in the process. 

He's waiting for more damn things to go wrong. 

Chapter Text

Vegeta's mood feels lighter than it has in a long time.

Humiliating people has its charm. Terrifying those who have wronged him is a nice treat. 

Raditz deserves all those uncomfortable feelings that Vegeta knows he gave him. 

Did it get a bit out of control? Maybe. Kissing Raditz was not remotely in his plans. 

He's not going to do it again, though. It's concerning that there's some physical attraction on his end while not intoxicated. 

It's probably a subconscious reflex. 

He's going to just act like there isn't attraction. Raditz will become a mess thinking about it. Raditz' attraction to him will remind him of his place:

On the bottom, in all aspects. 

While he doesn't like sensing how quickly Raditz' energy is growing, Vegeta is also certain that the idiot is unable to catch up to him. He's barely powered up his entire life, and now that the Earthlings are coddling him with training, he's improving. 

A knot forms in the pit of his stomach when he remembers that this is the same type of training Kakarot does. Kakarot, who has become a Super Saiyan. 

Vegeta screams and throws a vicious punch as he imagines that soft idiot's face in front of him.

Kakarot is an anomaly! He's a freak! He's an accident of nature!

Vegeta will show him his place! He is the best. He's the strongest Saiyan born in centuries. He's— he's—

He's passing out. 

Vegeta's knees hit the floor and he flops to the side as his vision fades. He clenches every muscle in rage and screws his eyes shut. 

His body, the pinnacle of galactic evolution, is failing him. 

Perhaps, all those times Frieza made him work through meal times were catching up. 

It can't be. Doctors on FP79 assured him that his body was in superb shape, despite the fact that he stopped growing in his early teens.

He's a fighting machine. He just has to push through this weakness. 

Is it his body? Or, is it his mind? 

Vegeta exhales, opens his eyes, and un-clenches his muscles. While sparks still swim across his vision, he doesn't feel lightheaded like before. 

Panting, he sits up. He's glad Nappa has retired for the day; Vegeta can't bear the old man's saccharine encouragement, these days. 

Is it encouragement? Or, is it mockery? Does Nappa have a grudge against him?

Perhaps. But, perhaps not. It's hard to tell if the old man is just being a good pawn like he's used to, or if he's just old and clinging on to whatever he can get. 

Vegeta looks around the empty GR and exhales. It's incredible how lucky he is being allowed to use this thing. 

Being handsome helps, he's sure. One of the first things that came out of Bulma's mouth was something about how she finds him attractive. 

Has he intentionally let her see him naked? 

Absolutely. 

Vegeta isn't a harlot like Raditz, but he's not stupid. He knows how to work things a certain way. 

A screen flashes on at the center console, and Bulma's face appears. 

"Vegeta, you need to take a break," she says. "You missed dinner."

He scowls and rolls his eyes. "I don't need your coddling, woman."

Bulma levels him with a glare that might cow a lesser man. 

Vegeta is not, however, a lesser man.

"Your body needs it," she scowls. "If you're not eating enough calories, then your body is gonna start eating itself."

His body needs a lot of things, right now. Vegeta denies it those things; he is not a slave to his desires, like lower class animals. 

Bulma leans in to the camera on the other end of the screen to yell. 

At the same time that Vegeta notices her very nice tits, his stomach growls. 

"I heard that through the speakers!" She screams. "Get in here and eat, God damn it!" 

Vegeta pounds his fists into the floor. 

"If it'll make you stop that annoying screaming, fine!"

"Good!"

There's a pause for a brief moment and Vegeta exhales. 

"I'm not turning this off until you get your ass out of there!" Bulma screams. 

Vegeta fights the urge to blast the screen. He catches sight of her magnificent tits once again, and wishes that she would please, please turn the screen off. 

Something. Turn something off. 

Vegeta struggles to his feet, turns away from the screen, and stumbles toward the door. 

If he starts heading inside, he won't have to see her for a little while, at least.

Raditz wants to tell Bulma that she's fighting a losing battle with Vegeta.

He knows better. There's no telling a woman like Bulma what to do. The last time Raditz said anything direct to her like that, she threatened to tie him down and wax his tail bald. 

He keeps his mouth shut, now. 

Even Yamcha, who knows Bulma very well, keeps his mouth shut. 

It doesn't stop them from mumbling about it on the patio, when Bulma practically drags Vegeta in from training. 

From where he's sitting, he's the only one who can see Vegeta, and that's probably good, considering how unhinged the guy is. 

"He's usually not this bad," Raditz murmurs. "Always worked too hard, but not like this."

Krillin leans in his chair and glances back toward the kitchen where a bleary-eyed Vegeta slumps at the breakfast bar. 

"You think Nappa can get through to him?" He asks. 

Raditz shakes his head. 

"He's above everyone and their opinions," he says. 

Bulma continues to rant as she tosses food in the microwave, and hands Vegeta several containers. He openly stares at her tits. 

She might catch it, were it not for her ranting. As it stands, she's oblivious. 

It's probably to her benefit, unless she wants to feel like trash the next morning. 

"You think anyone can get through to him?" Yamcha asks. 

He doesn't look like he cares all that much, and Raditz can't blame him. Vegeta is an absolute asshole, and he's getting worse. 

Raditz sighs. "Bulma is probably the only one."

She'll have to fuck him into being calm, though. 

Something in Yamcha's expression hardens, and Raditz catches on immediately: 

The guy does not want Vegeta around her. 

Raditz isn't sure if it's because she's his ex, if it's about the principle, or if it's genuinely because he can see the impending disaster if she chooses to fuck him. 

They're all valid reasons. Selfishly, Raditz thinks that if Vegeta gets with her, then he will leave you and Raditz alone. 

The guy is so uptight he probably doesn't even jerk off, anymore. 

"She is very stubborn," Yamcha says. 

"What's that phrase?" Krillin muses. "An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object." 

Raditz nods. "That sounds about right."

If Vegeta weren't driving himself mad with denying himself any sort of comforts, he might be able to resist Bulma. As it stands, however, if he gets fucked, then he's metaphorically fucked. She will have him by the dick.

If things go absolutely sideways, and Vegeta makes good on yesterday's threats, Raditz knows that he can say no. But, he doesn't know if the words will come out of his mouth. 

Raditz doesn't know who the hell Vegeta is anymore, though. His execution of Nappa years ago proves that he has pliable morals.

Raditz glances back to the now-silent kitchen. Vegeta sits at the breakfast bar, practically inhaling food. Across from him is Bulma, leaning against the counter, with her arms crossed. She's giving him one mean glare. 

The asshole deserves it. She's probably the only person who can get away with it, too. 

The bravest Raditz is probably going to get is glaring at Vegeta's closed bedroom door, or the GR.

He's very fucking confused about how he feels about his new life. He's got all sorts of shit handed to him. 

Raditz should be happy, right?

Krillin's phone vibrates, startling Raditz out of his thoughts.

Krillin looks down at his phone, and nods. He's quiet for a moment as he spends some time messaging back and forth with whoever the other person is. 

Yamcha looks intrigued by this development. He really wants Krillin to find a woman, perhaps, more than Krillin himself. 

"Got a new girl you're texting?" He asks. 

Krillin shrugs. "Just Bulma's friend. She's really cool."

"Ah, okay," Yamcha says. "Yeah, she is."

Cold dread washes over Raditz as he realizes that Krillin is messaging with you. Judging by the serious look on his face, you might be telling him something important. 

Krillin has your contact info. Raditz does not. 

Krillin has a high power level. Raditz does not. 

Krillin is from this planet. Raditz is not. 

Krillin seems rather intuitive about people. 

Raditz, apparently, is not. 

Raditz is just a piece of ass.

That's all Raditz has going for him. He's hot, and he has a big dick and knows how to use it. 

Any idiot can learn how to fuck, if they try hard enough. And Krillin is not a dumbass like Raditz. 

He's quiet the rest of the evening, and goes to bed early. He doesn't want to be around to see Krillin light up when he gets a text from you. 

It's more of the same from his life. He's always behind. He's always losing. He's always fucking something up, in some way.

Why is Raditz even trying?

Meeting people when you're disabled is tough. There's a whole bunch of things you know to watch out for, but just being able to meet new people in general can be a challenge. 

How does someone meet people in person when they don't work or go to school? 

You're working on it. A lot of your friends are online. A lot of your in person friends who don't live close are now in the category of "online friends". 

There are plenty disabled folks who live in tiny towns, full of people with whom they have nothing in common— and that's to say nothing of their clashing beliefs. 

How in the world do people make friends? 

It's honestly easier to meet other friends' friends, then befriend them. If someone is worth the energy to see in person, then their friends are probably worth getting to know, too. More often than not, they are. 

You're talking to several people at once. If you're honest with yourself, the attention is pretty nice. 

You tab over to your DMs with Bulma. 

sirenia_fragaria: how have you been feeling btw?

schrodingers-illness:  a little better, today. I was able to get the dishes done

sirenia_fragaria:  🥳

schrodingers-illness: hopefully, I can go out and enjoy the weather before it becomes hot as ass out there (rofl)

sirenia_fragaria:  yeah I can see summer not being great for POTS

schrodingers-illness: 💯

sirenia_fragaria: so, there was a really cool research project from West State that is studying genetics with your condition

schrodingers-illness: oh! I haven't heard about that one

sirenia_fragaria: The hypothesis seemed interesting, so I funded it

schrodingers-illness: 😭 omg

schrodingers-illness: I appreciate that so much. that means the world to everyone with this condition

sirenia_fragaria: i know you don't want me to use the dragon balls to wish for you to get better

schrodingers-illness: right yeah. we need a real world cure for this, not a wish

sirenia_fragaria: and spontaneously curing everyone with that condition won't help future people 😕 

schrodingers-illness: exactly. 

You sigh and stare at the screen. The dragon balls are tempting. 

You remember having a healthy body, at one point. You remember not having to pre-plan your days. 

Those exciting, stressful days are long gone. In an odd way, the monotonous predictability of your disabled life is less stressful, at times. 

Then, other times, not so much. 

It's lonely. Other people are busy. At times, you feel like you're needy and annoying. And maybe, your loneliness makes you come off too eager. 

sirenia_fragaria is typing... 

sirenia_fragaria: ugh i literally had to scream at vegeta just now to get his ass inside to eat dinner. Afk a few min 

schrodingers-illness: omg. 

You're not sure what more is shocking: the news of a Saiyan skipping a meal, or Vegeta listening to someone. 

You go to your other chats and lose track of time. Eventually though, a notification pops up from Bulma. 

Wow. She's been gone for an hour. 

sirenia_fragaria: that was so damn ridiculous 

schrodingers-illness:  how so?

sirenia_fragaria:  well, he was sitting on the floor gasping for air. I got on the camera and yelled at him to get inside and eat. didn't close out the screen feed until he was actually heading out of the fucking GR

schrodingers-illness: that first part is concerning

 

Theoretically, it's concerning. There's part of you that's still loyal to Raditz and what he goes through. Vegeta is an absolute asshole to him. 

sirenia_fragaria:  yeah i reviewed the footage from the GR. He screamed, threw a punch, then started blacking out. 

sirenia_fragaria: he's really fucking himself up. something with whatever got his beef going with Raditz really threw him off the deep end

schrodingers-illness: idk what the dude's deal is. for Saiyan standards, he's got everything better than Raditz, aside from the tail

sirenia_fragaria: no clue. my best guess is that it has to do with Goku

schrodingers-illness: hmm you might be on to something there

sirenia_fragaria: Raditz doesn't even look like Goku, but idk. maybe they smell similar or something. Or even just knowing that they're related has him pissy. 

You're not so sure about that. Goku probably is a chunk of what's bothering Vegeta. But, it seems like he's gotten more extreme since Raditz hooked up with you. 

Hah. Given the amount of staring he does at Bulma, the guy is probably sexually frustrated. That alone might be what's got him acting like this.

With Bulma online and discussing the Saiyans and Raditz, you have the perfect opportunity to talk about him.

You want to ask how Raditz is doing, but you resist. You're moving on. You can't let thinking about him become a constant part of your thoughts. 

You resent the tears that well up in your eyes. 

You hate how much you want to see him again. You absolutely hate it.

You don't want to invite yourself back to Capsule Corp, because it's probably rude to invite yourself to someone's house. And, you don't want to look desperate. 

Why in the hell do you want to see this guy again? He's a giant red flag. 

It's probably the sex. You still think about it. 

You can see why people find a rebound to try to kiss the taste of someone who hurt them out of their mouth.

That's not going to work for you, though. 

His taste, his touch, his smell, his body —the strong, secure embrace; the soft, affectionate tail— are all seared into your memory. 

Branded. You feel like your mind has a brand on it. 

Sighing, you look at your screen to try to distract yourself.

A single, short black hair rests innocently on the screen, forbidding you from trying to think about something else. 

Damn that man, and damn that stupid idea to hook up with him in the first place.

Bardock sits by the side of the river, his boots and leg warmers discarded further up the bank. Kakarot sits next to him, with his boots off and his pants rolled up to dip his feet in the water. 

Out here in the country, there isn't a lot of light pollution. Bardock can see the stars and planets much more clearly out here. 

All the constellations are foreign. Kakarot, a survivalist, points out a few major ones that he knows about, and a particular star that stays in the same spot, which they apparently call the North Star.

Kakarot can barely read. But, things like this tend to be ancient folklore. He's a smart kid —man— and Bardock feels that he can learn whatever he wants to learn. He doesn't need to be book smart to be smart. 

Some god, somewhere, must have a hand in Kakarot's path— from his escape, landing in the wilderness with a highly respected fighting master, and yes, even his head injury. 

Not that Kakarot hasn't had his own struggles, of course. But, to Bardock, it seems that Kakarot has a blessed path. 

He stares out over the river and into the trees beyond. Deep in the trees, and sometimes, close to them, there's a momentary flash of green. 

They call them "lighting bugs", here. He's seen stuff like this before, but not quite like this. The tree line sparkles with the little bugs. 

Bardock can see how tales of supernatural beings can form, looking at these things. They're really neat. 

Whether it's the bright, icy color of daytime, or the dark navy of night, the blue sky feels less foreign, now. It makes everything feel more peaceful, at least. 

Gine loves this place. Bardock is working on it; he's always tense, and ready for something awful to break out. 

He's learning some stuff from Kakarot, though. Kakarot is a fighting genius; a prodigy, to be honest. 

Nobody expected this out of a Saiyan with such a low birth power level like Kakarot. Bardock proves repeatedly that the idea of class is outdated, from his consistent power level increases. 

Kakarot completely defies that outdated logic. Bardock can't be more proud if he tries. 

Raditz is, unfortunately, a disappointment. Bardock understands doing what is necessary to survive in the PTO. What he does not understand, however, is attempting to murder his own brother. 

No. That's no son of his. That's someone else. Raditz is dead to him. 

Bardock closes his eyes. He wants to stop thinking about it and just move on. 

It's not like him to let things bother him after he's done with them.

"You seem bothered, Dad," Kakarot says. 

Bardock chuckles and opens his eyes. "Observant, just like your mother."

Kakarot shrugs. 

"I dunno," he says. "I think anyone would notice you're tense. Maybe me and Mom are the two people most likely to say something?"

"Ah, that's true," Bardock sighs. 

There's a moment of silence between them. Rather than letting Kakarot get the next word in, however, Bardock decides to conveniently change the subject. 

"Listen," he says, "I want to learn how to sense energy. It sounds like a necessity, and I want to learn from the best."

There's a brief, stern wrinkling of Kakarot's brows, and it's like Bardock is looking in a mirror. 

He knows that look. 

Kakarot knows exactly what he's up to, changing the subject like that. 

Alright, well, that's fine. 

Thankfully Kakarot doesn't push the issue like Gine might. Instead, he turns to give Bardock his full attention.

"Okay, so energy," Kakarot says. "Every living thing has energy, or, what we call 'ki'. It's a life force."

Okay. That's basically what he knows. But, they call it 'ki', here. 

"The ki of every living thing is unique," Kakarot continues. "People who hone their senses can do more than sense the strength of someone's ki. They can sense the color of someone's ki, and, they can get a sense if someone is good or evil. And I'm sure there's probably a lot of other stuff."

Bardock nods. "I didn't realize it was that in-depth."

"It's really neat," Kakarot smiles. "Yeah, your scouter only measures the strength of what ki someone is currently working with. People who train to sense it also control the amount of power that is in their body."

Bardock laughs and shakes his head. 

"So," he says, "my scouter is useless."

"Kinda, yeah," Kakarot replies. "Anyone using a scouter against us had a big problem underestimating our power. I think it's a big part of how we won a lot of those fights."

Bardock knows for a fact that Kakarot is the person who has won most of those battles. The fact that he counts the other warriors on this planet as part of his effort is refreshing. 

It's the same way that Bardock runs his team. That's why he has —had— one of the top Saiyan teams. 

From the brief stories he hears about Prince Vegeta, it seems that the Prince runs his team in the exact opposite way. 

"I'm more than happy to learn this," Bardock says. "I can only improve."

Kakarot grins. "Well, I'm excited to see what you can do with it."

Bardock shrugs. Kakarot is the Legendary Super Saiyan, and he's sure he doesn't have anything worth teaching his son. 

"Let's start with your own energy," Kakarot says. "When you get an energy attack ready, you can feel it come out of your body, and it exists outside of you."

Bardock nods. 

"So, let's start with that," Kakarot says. "Close your eyes and try to pay attention to the origin of the energy, feel it flow through you, and notice how it looks outside of your body."

Bardock closes his eyes. Summoning his own energy is as easy as flicking on a light; letting it come slowly, however, is another task entirely. 

After a few tries, he feels it. The origin of his energy —and, of all energy, he thinks— is a vast, black void that somehow teems with potential. 

He feels honored that he has access to such a thing. But, if this is the source of all things, then, every living creature has access to it. 

He is One. They are all One.

Bardock follows the energy out of the void, through his body, and out. 

Green. It's a dark, blue-green. 

He tries to perceive outside of the small bit of energy he holds in his hands, and then—

He feels it. All around him are billions upon billions of lights of all colors, some of which are brighter and stronger than others. 

And, in front of him, is the biggest, brightest one of them all— a blazing star of a near-unfathomable magnitude:

His son, Kakarot. 

Incredible. 

He examines a few close by, and sees that they all connect to that comforting, black void.

"We are one," Bardock says. "We are a universe."

"What do you feel?" Kakarot asks.

Bardock shakes his head in disbelief. He doesn't want to open his eyes.

"Everything."

Chapter Text

You stretch in your seat, and you think almost your entire back pops. It's a nice little bit of relief, given how poorly you feel lately.

Though there are a ton of articles online about the ill effects of being online all the time, you're not sure how applicable it is to your life. 

You're chronically online. You're also chronically ill, and chronically at home, with your body forcing you to do so. 

You do what you can, of course. But, the fact remains that if you take time to unplug, you won't have any social life at all. 

Bulma is also chronically online, but you notice she's not online as much, lately. Or, at least, she's not sending you messages as much. 

It makes you a little anxious. 

You go to your chat with Bulma, and before you know it, you're fishing for information. 

schrodingers-illness: so, what's going on over there? anything exciting?

sirenia_fragaria: I'm working on a prototype of sunglasses, or i should say moonglasses, for Raditz and Nappa. i cant remember if I told Raditz about them, so idk if he told you

How in the hell would he tell you? It's not like he has a—

Shit. He has a phone, doesn't he? The fact that you don't have any way to contact him, when he clearly has an easy way to do so, is very telling. 

It's a casual hookup. That's it. You established that yourself on day one, in fact.

You resolve once again to not tell Bulma anything about how this has gone down. You don't want things to get awkward for her, since Raditz lives in her home.

She might even already know, given how distant she seems, lately.

schrodingers-illness: no, i haven't heard anything about moonglasses.

sirenia_fragaria: dang I must not have told him. basically, I'm going to try to figure out how the saiyan great ape transformation works, then make some glasses to block whatever the moon gives off to trigger it

schrodingers-illness:  That's really cool! I think they'll appreciate not having to stay inside whenever the full moon is out

sirenia_fragaria: yeah

sirenia_fragaria: since I haven't told Raditz, I should probably tell him, now. And then, I'll see if he can volunteer to transform. 

schrodingers-illness:  I have never seen what that looks like. 

sirenia_fragaria: oh, it's wild! look up the 21st Martial Arts Tournament. Goku transformed at that one. 

schrodingers-illness: WHAT??? Oh wow that's got to be crazy for him to see that video and know it's out there

sirenia_fragaria: uh... well 🫤 I don't know if he can read well enough to use the internet without accessibility tools. 

schrodingers-illness:  I can help with that??? If that's something he would want to do???

sirenia_fragaria: I promise that I've offered. He doesn't really care to. 

sirenia_fragaria: he didn't know about his transformation until recently either

schrodingers-illness:  nobody told him after that happened??

sirenia_fragaria: he transformed one night as a very young child, and accidentally killed Gohan, the man who adopted him. We decided at the time that it wasn't a good idea to tell him

You sit back and stare at the screen in shock. You understand keeping information from someone to protect them, especially as a child. But, you don't know if they should have told him, or not. 

schrodingers-illness:  he had his tail for a while, though?

sirenia_fragaria: yeah. Roshi blew up the moon. That was why the oceans got fucked up for a while. I don't know if he saved more people through that choice or not. 

Holy fuck. The old man can blow up a moon?? 

And the ecological effects of that event were near-catastrophic. 

This information is jaw-dropping. 

sirenia_fragaria: you're not saying anything, and I'm a bit worried. 

schrodingers-illness: This is a bit like hearing about how there are aliens and people flying around and shooting lasers. it's shocking. 

sirenia_fragaria: yeah, I can understand that. Kami restored the moon in exchange for removing Goku's tail permanently. I wish we handled it differently, in hindsight. I was 17 at the time so I kind of went along with it. 

sirenia_fragaria: I think now, I would have fought for a different resolution. blowing up the moon was the wrong call. whether to tell Goku or not, though, idk. he must have been 10 or something

schrodingers-illness:  yeah idk what would have been a good idea in that situation, either. 

schrodingers-illness:  how did he find out???

sirenia_fragaria: Raditz landed at Kame house, and Goku noticed his tail. so, Raditz was the one to tell Goku about the transformation. it was such a bad way for him to have found out that he killed his grandpa

schrodingers-illness: shit

sirenia_fragaria: yeah. if I could build a time machine, I might go back in the past so he could have heard it from a different source and had time to process it. 

schrodingers-illness:  yeah, I can't blame you for that

sirenia_fragaria: he acts like it's ok but I don't feel like it is or should be.

sirenia_fragaria: fwiw the guy who landed there at Kame house does not feel like Raditz at all. it's like he was/is a completely different person.

schrodingers-illness: yeah it definitely seems so

You're not so sure about that. But, given his history, perhaps, Raditz just changes his personality when it suits him. 

The guy who treats you like an inferior seems more stuck up than the guy you hear about who came in and beat the shit out of a bunch of people. Then, there's the guy who stays quiet around the house and offers to do his dishes. And then, there's the guy who fucks you like he's addicted. Sometimes, there's another guy who acts like he's making love to you. 

Which one is the real Raditz?

schrodingers-illness: fwiw also, i don't judge you for that decision to keep it secret. i was just curious more than anything. 

schrodingers-illness: i hope it didnt come off like an interrogation 🫤

sirenia_fragaria: its all good 👍

sirenia_fragaria: sorry I havent been in touch as much lately. I've gotten sucked into projects and havent paid attention to much outside that. I suspect the moonglasses project will really pull me in

schrodingers-illness: oh no worries

You absolutely have had worries. Bulma has been largely offline and not really interacting with you when she is. 

The part of you that has lost a lot of friends —especially after becoming disabled— is on alert. 

Putting in the work to realize that this is unhealthy has been a great start, but reprogramming your mind to relax about this sort of stuff is a monumental task. 

It's hard to make the mental separation of someone being busy, like Bulma, versus someone who has actually rejected you. 

Someone like Raditz. Someone like those other guys you liked way more than they liked you. 

Maybe people are right. Maybe, your first time has more significance than you believed. 

There's got to be some hormonal stuff at play, here. You just need some time to get over it.

The warmth that the change of the season brings makes Bardock feel more at home. He's got a belly full of the most incredible food in the galaxy —Gine and Chi-Chi's cooking— and he's dipping his feet into the river again with Kakarot.

Bardock doesn't really know what a city, or even a town, looks like on this planet. He and Gine avoided densely-packed power levels while wandering around.

This nice slice of existence Kakarot has here is really all Bardock cares to see. Still, he probably should get to explore this planet and its people more. 

The food alone would have them conquered by Saiyans, if fate were different. 

While they're here to rest their stomachs, they're also here to train, after a fashion. Bardock is learning how to sense energy, and now is a good time to work on honing his senses. 

His scouter rests by his side, fully charged by the bright star above them in the sky. While Bardock doesn't want to cheat on sensing the energy, he wants to know what the numbers feel like, even if the numbers are kind of arbitrary.

Kakarot thinks this is a great idea. He's excited and cheerful about this whole thing, just like his mother. 

His excitement is infectious. 

Bardock turns to see his son smiling at him.

"This is gonna be great," Kakarot chuckles. "I haven't yet heard of someone noticing everything all at once. You've sure got an eye for it."

Bardock shakes his head and laughs along with him. "I'm surprised that I do. This could be hard to teach to a Saiyan. We're set in our ways— or, we were."

Kakarot nods and gives him that sad, pitying look that Gine gives him from time to time. 

"Well, I don't know exactly, to be fair," Kakarot says. "But, Vegeta taught himself how to do it."

Bardock laughs out loud. 

"That's not surprising at all," he says. "Prince Vegeta was known for being a prodigy, and an absolute hellion around the palace."

"Really?" Kakarot asks. "Yanno, I can see that he could have been a troublemaker."

He laughs. "Oh, you have no idea. The amount of times he did something and talked Raditz into—"

Bardock pauses and sighs. 

Raditz.

"It's okay to talk about him," Kakarot says. 

Bardock frowns. "No, it isn't. He's dead to me. And I can't dwell on it."

He doesn't need to waste time or energy on the past. 

"Anyway," he says. "What do I need to learn next?"

Kakarot gets a serious look on his face. He pauses for a moment and looks like he's about to say something before sighing and shaking his head. 

Thank the Gods he's not as persistent as Gine.

"Today, we are going to work on singling out different ki signatures," Kakarot says. "You'll be able to identify other fighters on the planet, with that. And, since everyone's training right now, you can get a sense for their peak power, or at least, close to it."

Bardock nods and puts his scouter over his ear. "Sounds good."

"So, before you turn it on," Kakarot says, "you need to know that people powering up fast can make those things explode. It happens a lot."

He raises a brow. That's a new one. Thankfully, he can at least sense the energy to know whether or not to try to get a reading on it. 

"Well," Bardock says, "if it blows up, that's going to be on me."

He closes his eyes, and stretches out his senses. 

The small power level nearby is instantly recognizable. It's a deep, warm purple and it feels like home. 

"Of course, your mother is purple," he chuckles. 

He hears Kakarot sit back. "You can sense the colors?" 

"Are you not supposed to?"

"That's stuff people tend to see after they study it for a while." 

Bardock chuckles and cracks an eye open to look at his bewildered son. "I bet your mother would be even better at this." 

Kakarot grins. 

"I should teach her."

Bardock nods. "It would keep her out of danger."

Or, it might get her into danger. Gine follows her heart. 

He closes his eyes once again and shakes his head. 

It figures that Kakarot's power is the same color as the sky of this planet. It suits him. In contrast, Chi-Chi's energy is a shade of pink so strong that it looks like fire. 

The breath escapes his lungs when he takes a closer look at Gohan. 

His energy looks like a prism, reflecting all sorts of colors, especially of those around him. 

It's huge. Bardock examines it closer, his eyes shooting open when he realizes that the wellspring of Gohan's power is limitless. 

Bardock shakes his head and presses the button on his scouter. As the numbers tick upward, Kakarot looks at him and smiles. 

"You took a look at Gohan, didn't ya?" He asks.

Bardock nods. "If I believed in legends, he would be the chosen one, no doubt."

Kakarot glances back in the direction of the house. 

"I agree," he says. 

The scouter finally stops measuring Gohan's power:

1.21 million.

"Holy shit."

Kakarot smiles. "I'm so proud of the little guy. He's good at absolutely everything he does."

Shaking himself, Bardock stretches his senses out to the next familiar power level. He gets a feel for it, and quickly identifies the orange and blue power as Piccolo. 

Wordlessly, he taps his scouter. 

It tops out at 2 million. Absolutely incredible. 

And, to think that everyone is supposed to die to some artificial humans in a few years time. 

These things must be horrible. 

Curious, Bardock looks at Kakarot and uses his scouter. When the number comes back as 23, he laughs. 

"Of course, you're powered down," Bardock says.

Kakarot chuckles. "I didn't want to confuse it with sitting so close, but I guess I don't know how it works."

Stretching out his senses, Bardock looks at various power levels all over the planet. He's glad he doesn't have to close his eyes, now, but he does think he will get more info about the energies he's sensing if he does. 

After getting a reading on his scouter, he quickly closes his eyes to get a feel for the energy he's sensing.

Bardock hasn't met most of Kakarot's friends, but he likes them already. They have a good feel to them. 

They're strong, too: They range anywhere from 70,000 up to 200,000.

As Kakarot sits silently next to him, Bardock closes his eyes once again and searches out a large cluster of stronger power levels.

Even though they're in the heart of a city, they stand out like a beacon, next to the average power level of this planet. 

There's something about them that makes Bardock very curious. 

On a whim, he picks one that reminds him of bronze. It's one of the stronger ones among these warriors, and there's something about it in particular that feels familiar. 

The black and cobalt one next to it makes him feel uneasy. It completely dwarfs the bronze energy, yet the smaller titan stays in its presence. They're sparring, though it borders more on the stronger one beating the weaker one up. 

The resentment and jealousy coming off of the bigger, cobalt energy is nearly nauseating. It's a tainted, evil energy, but it feels like it's changing, somehow.

Bardock examines the cobalt energy closer, and the sheer anguish it gives off knocks the wind out of him and forces him to open his eyes. 

He sees Kakarot giving him a sad smile. 

"You found Vegeta, eh?" Kakarot asks. 

Bardock blinks and shakes the intensity of Prince Vegeta's feelings from his mind. 

"I guess so," he says. 

And, that must be General Nappa with him. He can't imagine anyone else wanting to be near that vortex of rage.

"He's not doing well," Kakarot says. "I'd like to be his friend, but I don't think he wants me anywhere near him."

Bardock nods. "I don't think he wants to be anyone's friend, with what I"m sensing."

Kakarot sighs and stares off in the direction of Prince Vegeta's massive, furious power. 

Bardock almost doesn't want to use his scouter to measure it, but he really wants to know. 

The nauseating number of 3 million comes up. 

"His father would have been proud," he murmurs. 

Kakarot sighs. "I don't know if he cares. I think more power is the only thing he cares about, right now."

Bardock nods in agreement. 

"That's all he was taught to care about," he says. "King Vegeta created a perfect, cold warrior for Frieza to use."

Bardock remembers a feisty, adventurous little boy with a knack for causing trouble. He also remembers going on a long mission and returning.

Both his son and the Prince were quiet, obedient boys when he came back. 

"Take a look at Nappa, though," Kakarot says. 

Bardock nods, closes his eyes, and re-centers himself. Finding General Nappa isn't too hard. Looking at him isn't that hard, either, though he's sure that the proud General would be ashamed to know that his emotions come off strongly in his energy:

Worry. Helplessness. Resentment. Pride. Warmth. Affection. Protectiveness. 

Nurturing. 

Bardock finally notices what Kakarot is pointing out. There are tendrils of energy coming off of General Nappa, reaching toward Prince Vegeta. 

Protective. Nurturing. 

Bardock doesn't care about the affairs of the nobility, but it's nonetheless good to see that someone is doing something. 

General Nappa is as loud with his energy as he is with everything else. It's fitting.

It does bring him a smug sense of satisfaction, however, to take a reading of General Nappa and find out that he's on the same level as Captain Ginyu. The last war hero of the Saiyans triumphs yet again.

With that out of the way, Bardock turns his attention to the others in the area:

There's an impressive power level of roughly 200,000, training with one that's 80,000, and another around 42,000.

The two stronger ones feel steady and kind. Bardock doesn't have to ask to know that they are Kakarot's friends.

The other one, though—

Bardock finds himself drawn to the black, purple, and magenta power level. It's the weakest of the fighters, here, but it's stronger than Bardock by far. 

It pulsates and flickers like a heart desperately trying to save the life of the body it inhabits. This energy is deeply in distress. Bardock doesn't like that; there's something about this energy that he likes. 

He likes it a lot. He wants to comfort this distressed soul, somehow. 

Bardock thinks this is probably Mr. Thirty-Thousand, who is now stronger than the nickname he gave him months ago. 

He's been cheering the guy on, after watching him get beat up on a near-constant basis. 

Which one is this?

Before he can ask, Kakarot answers his question: 

"The black one is Raditz."

Bardock swallows the sudden lump in his throat and quickly hardens his heart. 

From what Raditz has done to his own family, Bardock guesses that Raditz feels similar to Vegeta:

Jealous, power-hungry, and destructive. 

If there's anything he knows about Kakarot from training with him, it's that he's gentle-hearted like his mother. The fact that he refuses to speak to Raditz speaks volumes. 

Bardock isn't going to fall for the sentiment. This is a weakness he needs to purge from his mind.

This is probably the first time in Raditz' life that he hates being so observant. 

Vegeta's hands are covered in small, red sores, especially on the skin surrounding his nails. 

He isn't around Vegeta much at all, but he knows that those marks on his hands mean that he's picking and nibbling at them, again. That's an old quirk that Vegeta started as a young teen, then managed to stop in his early twenties. 

It's back.

Krillin is messaging with you a lot. Everyone acts like it's no big deal, especially Yamcha. 

That makes no sense, with how much Yamcha wants to help Krillin find a woman. 

Maybe, you're already a thing. He doesn't know. Krilin says you're friends, but people always say one thing, and do something different. 

The worst thing, though, is what's going on with Nappa. 

There are creases at the corners of his eyes, and not just when he's laughing. There are lines on his cheeks. It's particularly noticeable on his left cheek, from years of his crooked, confident smile. There are a few silver hairs mixed in with the black on Nappa's meticulously-groomed mustache. 

Nappa is getting old.

This should be forbidden. 

Every time he notices a new sign of aging on Nappa, Raditz has to swallow a lump in his throat.

Despite the teasing and whatever, Nappa is more than just his superior; he has saved Raditz' ass several times. 

He can't imagine a world without a Nappa to charge in, laugh like he's having a day at the park, obliterate whoever is about to kill Raditz, and grab his hand and pick him back up. 

Raditz accidentally does the math and realizes that Nappa's life is probably more than half over. 

All of it is enough that he's standing under an awning on the ground floor, rather than the patio were everyone likes to gather. If he can't look at it, then he won't see any of it get worse. 

Raditz closes his eyes as the breeze carries the scent of those purple flowers in the garden. He remembers the awkward, ill-fated last night you spent together, entwined beneath a canopy full of those flowers— how he begged you in his mother tongue to not go as he held on desperately to you. 

Something's always chasing him down. That scent is one of many. 

"There you are!" 

Raditz' eyes snap open to see Bulma approaching from the path leading from the house. He fakes a smile and gives her a nod. 

She stops next to him and gives him a smile.

"Hey, Raditz," Bulma says. "So, I'm doing some research, and I wanted to see if you could help."

Oh, wow. That's quite an honor. She's a super genius. The idea that he might help her with some research is a big fucking deal. 

Raditz tries to play it cool, but he thinks he might be failing. It takes a lot of effort to keep his tail wrapped around his waist.

"Sure. What's up?"

"I'm trying to make some sunglasses," she says. "Well, we should call them 'moonglasses'. I want to be able to block the effects of the moon so you and Nappa don't have to stay in your bedrooms the whole time during the full moon."

Raditz nods. "That would be very helpful, if you wanted to do something like that. What help do you need?"

He reminds himself to stay cool. The tip of his tail quivers behind his back. 

"I need to see the transformation," she explains. "If I can observe it, then I can probably have an easier time of finding out how to block what causes the transformation."

Raditz grimaces and looks down at the ground. 

Oh, this is embarrassing. 

"I um," he murmurs, "I can't control myself when I'm Oozaru. You'll have to ask Nappa."

Bulma's eyes widen in shock. "Oh my. Well, that's even all the more reason to make them."

Shit. As if he can't be enough of a loser, as things things are, right now.

Raditz looks off to the side. He's itching to leave the conversation.

"Oh by the way," she says. "Thank you for training with Yamcha. He doesn't fit in well with the other guys, sometimes. I haven't seen him this happy or dedicated to fighting in a long time."

Raditz blinks in shock. He swears that the original offer of training was done out of pity. 

Yamcha really wants to be friends?

"I hope you're having fun, too," Bulma says. "You seem happier?"

Raditz hesitates for too long, and Bulma raises a brow. 

Should he just be honest?

He probably should. Not being completely truthful is what's gotten him into a bunch of messes, since he's been on this planet. 

"I think I'm happy," he says. "I don't remember what it feels like, aside from brief moments."

Bulma looks stunned for a second, before remembering herself. 

"I owe you and Nappa both an apology," she admits. "It either appears that I was giving you two as a present to Vegeta, or wanting to use your power. In either case, people are not things to give away and use. I thought I had good intentions when I brought you back, but I did not."

Raditz doesn't know what to think of any of that and shrugs.

"It's fine," he says. 

Raditz has always been either a gift, or a means to an end. 

Bulma gives him a sad smile. "And that's where you're like Yamcha. I do whatever the hell I want, and it's always just fine. You have a right to feel not-fine."

Ah. Well, he can see why she likes them training together. 

Still, this is a bit too much; Bulma is getting bent out of shape about something that isn't upsetting him too much. 

"You need to remember what I am," he says. "There is nothing you can do to me that would cause even a fraction of the harm I've either caused or endured."

Bulma shrugs. "I still want to hold myself accountable. Are you doing okay?"

Oh, absolutely, one-hundred percent not.

"Yeah," he lies. "I'm getting stronger every day, and it's kinda nice not getting beat constantly."

Bulma smiles. "Good! You deserve the chance. Anyway, I'm guessing you're out here because you want some time to yourself. But, you've got my number and know where to find me."

Raditz nods. 

"Yeah, no problem," he says. 

As Bulma turns and leaves, Raditz realizes that his reply doesn't make a lot of sense. 

She disappears from view and he sighs. So much for playing it cool and attempting to appear normal. 

The wind picks up, hitting him with the scent of those flowers once again. With that sort of reminder, there's no way he can fake being okay for much longer.

Raditz dreads how much worse things might get.

Chapter Text

Krillin sighs as he reads the text. It's such a shame, really. He wishes he could do something about it, but there's nothing that can be done. He suspects that the dragon balls can't help either. Bulma has probably tried that. 

Or, you don't want to use the dragon balls. Maybe, the wording for the right wish hasn't come up yet. 

He types out a quick reply, which quickly turns into a conversation.

 

Krillin: So sorry you're feeling so bad dude. I know you hoped they'd find something so there could be a reason/treatment

Krillin: Hey no pressure or anything, but I host a DnD game that comes up a few times every month. We play irl but use a website to do rolls and keep sheets etc. It has a webcam/mic option too so there isn't a need to be there IRL. Would love to have you join 😁

 

You text back right away, asking if they use Roll 20, and that you're in. He can't help but grin. He wants to have a larger, more diverse party. Oolong, Puar, Turtle, and Roshi are nice and all, but he thinks you will add to the fun. 

Ah, crap. Roshi is part of this. He quickly sends another text. 

Krillin: So, Roshi is part of the party. I understand if you want to back out because he's playing. If you can believe it, he behaves better while he's roleplaying. I will one on one with each player for character creation, and discuss boundaries and all that. Theres then a session 0 where the players all discuss the same things as a group. 

Krillin: Sorry for the wall of text lol. Its a lot to explain

 

You: Yeah thats fine. I'm open to trying!

 

Krillin: Awesome! And if you're ever uncomfortable, I will mediate. I'm not afraid to kick people from the party for misbehavng

*misbehaving

 

 you: thanks dude! Yeah, just lmk when you want to do CC. My schedule is pretty open 

 

Krillin: Love it! I can probably call next week, then we will arrange for session 0. It might not move too fast, with all the training. 

 

You: no worries! You get those gains, bro 💪

Krillin laughs and puts his phone away. Looking up, he sees Yamcha giving him a questioning look.

"No," Krillin sighs. "It's not what you're thinking. I think you want me to have a girlfriend more than I want to have a girlfriend."

Yamcha laughs. "I just want you happy, man."

Krillin smiles and stares out at the expansive grounds of Capsule Corp. 

"I'm happy right now," he says. "I'm hanging out with my friends and training. Life's good."

Yamcha smiles and agrees, while Raditz stays silent and glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

Krillin isn't sure why Raditz is so standoffish with him all of a sudden. Yamcha says there's something going on with Raditz and you, beyond the hooking up. 

 There's no way Raditz is jealous, right? Yeah, Krillin texts you, but you're friends. 

And, goodness' sake, Raditz is ridiculously good looking. He's charming and funny. And he's making a lot of effort to learn about Earth and humanity. 

If it comes up in conversation, Krillin is just going to go out of his way to refer to you as his friend. 

Also, if Raditz is jealous, what kind of jealousy is it? 

Krillin can't imagine Raditz having any healthy tools for dealing with distress. He seems to have a history of substance abuse, if anything. 

He wonders if he should talk to Yamcha about all of this, but quickly nixes the idea. Yamcha is not subtle at all. Bulma isn't, either, so that makes her a poor candidate as well. So are her parents. 

Raditz is really rough around the edges, but Krillin thinks he sees in him what you do, at least, according to Yamcha. 

Well, kind of. Though he understands objectively that Raditz is good looking, he's not gonna hook up with the guy. Krillin isn't inclined that way.

What he sees, though, is the other part. There's potential in him to be a good person. In fact, he's already on his way to changing. 

In his opinion, it's good that you live a long distance away. The situation is complicated and deserves much more than an "I can fix him" approach. Kind people like you can fall for that. 

Goodness knows he saw that with Launch and Tien. 

From Krillin's observations, it takes many people to help someone change. 

And, maybe he's wrong, but some time apart to see if there's feelings beyond lust is probably warranted. That kind of thing can really cloud peoples' judgement. 

But, Krillin is quietly cheering this on. You're both "the whole package", as they say: smart, funny, kind, attractive, talented.

If Bulma doesn't invite you back soon, he'll have to come up with something to get you two around each other, again. 

DnD? He doesn't think Raditz will play. But, maybe another reunion at Kame house is in order.

Oh! He can come up with a Roshi-free reunion, and ask Bulma if they can come to Capsule Corp. She will appreciate not being around him.

Krillin always likes to have a good plan, and he thinks he's got a winner. 

Nappa doesn't see the point in these moonglasses. He can control himself just fine, and Vegeta doesn't have a tail, anymore.

And then, he remembers why Bulma has him in her lab in the first place:

Raditz can't control himself when he's Oozaru. 

It's something that they just deal with, and have always dealt with. But, if it helps the kid out a bit, he supposes it's worth it. 

Nappa stands in Bulma's lab, waiting patiently while she sticks electrodes to his skin and types things into her computer. It's oddly familiar; the floors, walls, and most of the equipment are all white. It smells like alcohol, latex, metal, and thermal gel. The machines even sound similar. 

If there's anything he's used to, it's weird exam stuff like this. 

He wonders what kinds of stuff Frieza's scientists have on Saiyans, from studying him and the kids.

Well, they're not really kids, anymore. Gods know that Kakarot is more than a mere man, at this point. 

He's curious about that, actually. He isn't gonna try to lead up to the question; that kind of stuff is stupid and wastes time.

"How did Kakarot become a Super Saiyan?" Nappa asks.

Bulma sighs and bites her lip. She swipes the skin on his lower back with alcohol, then sticks a few electrodes on. 

"It was bad," she says. "Frieza killed his best friend in front of him. At the time, there was no way to bring him back with the Dragon Balls. He absolutely lost it."

"How so?"

She shakes her head. 

"Pure rage. Very unlike him."

Hm. That complicates things. 

"He's known Krillin most of his life," Bulma says. "They're like brothers. So I guess seeing that happen triggered something in him. I don't know what, though. This is just my opinion, but I don't think Super Saiyan is a matter of being strong enough. He was severely beat up and fatigued when Frieza killed Krillin."

Oh, that really complicates things. 

"Makes sense," Nappa says. "Saiyans can get an unexpected boost when we're cornered." 

If this is the case, then Vegeta will never be a Super Saiyan. He doesn't form attachments. He protects himself from loss and has since he was very young.

Nappa isn't an idiot. He knows what Vegeta's deal is. 

"Seems like Raditz might have a better chance," he mumbles.

"He might."

Shit. Nappa shouldn't think out loud like that. 

Bulma types something into her computer, then turns to give Nappa a very serious look. 

"I believe in Vegeta, though," she says. "He's smart, and he always has a plan."

Nappa can't help but smile. 

"He is. He's the best of us. Really."

An odd silence falls over the lab as Bulma types more into her computer. Her use of a step ladder to get electrodes higher up on his body isn't as funny, now. 

Maybe, Nappa is just jaded. Vegeta killed him, after all. And he has no attachment to Raditz. 

Nappa thought he was gonna go crazy, hearing the kid dying lightyears away. Vegeta's callousness to his death and the idea of reviving him was a gut punch. 

But, Nappa always has to act a certain way. Somewhere along the line, the acting became the truth. 

This is a chance to stop acting, he supposes. It's hard as hell, though. 

He looks down to see Bulma biting her lip and glancing up to him every so often. As the silence stretches on, Nappa finally decides to break it. 

"What's with the look?" He asks. "I know you're not interested in an old man, anyway, so it's not that. Something's up."

Nappa is the same age as her father, and, with a species that ages faster, that's a significant enough difference to be a turn-off. He ain't stupid. 

Bulma, both fragile and fearless, stands to her full, tiny height, and stares him in the eye. 

"I owe you an apology," she says. 

Nappa raises a brow in confusion. For what? For bringing him back to life? For feeding, housing, and clothing him in luxury? For giving him free use of a state-of-the-art training facility? 

For even allowing him to become stronger, without fear that he will turn it against her?

"I didn't treat you guys right," Bulma explains. "When I brought you back, I hoped that it would help Vegeta out some, and that you could also help fight the cyborgs."

Nappa laughs. "So you're apologizing for giving me my life back?" 

Bulma shakes her head. 

"No, not like that," she says. 

Nappa shrugs, and the wires of the electrodes on his back swish around. 

Damn, now he's got an itch. 

He reaches up with his tail and delicately rubs next to one of the electrodes, taking extra care to not touch it. 

It doesn't work. Bulma notices, though, and reaches over to scratch the itch with her rough, calloused hand. 

A rich girl with worker's hands. He likes that; seems trustworthy, that way. Nappa bets that her parents built their fortune, rather than being born into it. 

"What I mean is this," Bulma says. "My intention was that you guys were either a gift to Vegeta, or something to use against the cyborgs. Basically, I treated you like things, and not people."

Oh. Okay. 

He shrugs. "You've done a hell of a lot more for us than anyone would, given what we've done to you people." 

"But, Frieza treated you like things, too," she murmurs.

"You're not Frieza," he says. "Not by a longshot. Hell, you're feeding Vegeta regularly, even."

Bulma stares up at him in horror. 

God damn his stupid mouth. That's twice he's blurted something out.

"Anyway, you're thinking too much about it," he says. "Don't turn into Raditz on me. You're gonna waste all those brains on worrying." 

Bulma laughs and shakes her head. "My dad says the same thing about wasting my brains." 

"Ha! I knew I liked him for a good reason." 

There's another silence, and Nappa decides to break it once again. 

"Listen," he says, "if accepting your apology means something to you, I'll do it. But, as far as I'm concerned, you've got nothing to apologize for."

Bulma connects more electrodes and types more into her computer. 

"Raditz said just about the same thing," she says. "After what you guys went through, that means a lot to me, even if you don't feel like it's a big deal."

Nappa nods. He gets that. There are plenty of things that are a big deal to him, that aren't a big deal to other people. Bulma's hung up on the premise of her actions, rather than the action itself. 

A good outcome for the wrong reasons is fine by him. Obviously, there's some sort of tentative alliance between them, and that is rather generous, all things considered. 

Bulma finishes whatever she's typing, stands, and looks at him.

"Well," she sighs, "we are definitely going to be testing to see if I got the fabric for those shorts right. Hopefully I did."

"You don't wanna see me naked?" He laughs. "Eh, you're a bit young, anyway. Let's not make this weird."

Bulma shakes her head. "Age gap aside, I think it would be improper to do to any one of you."

Nappa won't reply to that. He knows how she looks at the younger guys, Vegeta in particular. 

Vegeta is the kind of man that a decent parent warns their daughter to avoid. Nappa's tempted to tell Bulma, himself, but she's not a child. 

Raditz probably isn't too much better, but he remembers how his parents did things. And, his emotional-ness is probably not a bad thing, to a human. Still, he's a disaster as much as any of the three of them.

To be honest, a Saiyan is probably a poor match for most human women. The three of them in particular have so much blood on their hands that any wise person ought to be repulsed. 

Nappa isn't dumb. He knows how this works. He knows how Saiyans used to work. 

All he can do now is occasionally remind Raditz and Vegeta of who they are. 

It is really damn hard to be hands-off, though. He's not sure which one is harder to let go. 

Raditz is sensitive and hurting. Vegeta is callous and hurting. 

Nappa is old and he supposes he's hurting, too. 

"If the shorts rip," Nappa says, "just get your Pop to observe the un-transforming. But I think you got 'em right."

Still, he can't help but tease Bulma, just a little bit.

"Ha! Is that why you asked Raditz to begin with?" He asks. 

Her face gets bright red. "No!"

Nappa snickers. "Sure."

Bulma turns to glare at him. 

"I don't need an excuse for that sort of thing," she crows. "I do what I want, when I want, however I want."

She's implying that she gets around. Nappa isn't going to engage with that; he'll tease, but he's never serious. 

Where most men might see an opening to make a pass at her, he sees a wall. 

It's not too surprising that Bulma is guarded. 

"Just messin' with ya," Nappa says.

If Bulma really wanted Raditz, she would have had him already.

She rolls her eyes, and Nappa has to stop himself from laughing. Bulma reminds him of Vegeta, sometimes; at least, the person he used to be. 

Bulma gets whatever readings she can off of his default state. From there, they walk from the lab toward the hangar down the hall. It's the only place they can think of where Nappa can transform without being outside. 

Like most other places at Capsule Corp, the hallway is white on white, with little decoration. It reminds him of countless other places he's seen throughout the galaxy, minus all the blood coating the walls and the floor. 

Bulma stops in front of a door, presses a card to a sensor, and waits for the door to open. Nappa steps in behind her to see the hangar already lit, with space cleared for his transformation.

The familiar scent of the hangar doesn't remind him of home, and the word "nostalgic" sounds too nice. It reminds him of FP79— of blood, sweat, and exhaustion. 

And, though this is a completely different time and place, Nappa can't help but stand taller and try to ignore the nonexistent, disgusted stares of the other PTO on a base that has probably been destroyed.

Nappa takes a calming breath. It's just the little Earth girl with him, and the only thing she's going to judge him for is his bad jokes. 

"Alright," Bulma says. "If we've got enough room, we can probably do it here."

Nappa looks around at the space and nods. 

"Yep, this'll do it."

He concentrates for a second, and summons a power ball to the palm of his hand. 

Bulma looks up from her computer to the power ball, then back down again. 

"Hm," she murmurs. "That's a different wavelength than the recordings I have of other energy attacks. Can you hold one of your regular attacks, for me? I want to make sure it's not you that's different."

Normally, Nappa might have to choose between holding one or the other, but, this is not a life or death circumstance. He summons energy to his other hand and quickly realizes that though it's some effort, he's not winded by it like he ought to be. 

He really is getting stronger. 

"Oh! It is different," Bulma says. "I think that's going to be critical to our study. How many times can you use that in a row?'

Nappa chuckles. "Uh, once. When we use this, it takes a lot of energy. Usually, it's done when we're desperate. 

Bulma looks up from her computer in shock.

"Are you not going to be able to train today?" She asks. 

"Nope."

"I'll handle Vegeta," she says. "I'm sure he'll be grumpy about it."

Nappa smiles and lets the regular energy attack dissipate. 

Bulma has already handled Vegeta. The second Vegeta knew that this was Bulma's project, he allowed Nappa to take the day off. 

"He's fine," Nappa says. "He knows."

She nods and types something into her computer. 

"So, having a tail is required to transform?" She asks. 

Nappa nods. "Correct."

"Can I examine your tail?"

Nappa bristles at the question, but reminds himself that Bulma doesn't know what she's asking. 

"You may," he says. "But you need to understand that it's an intimate body part, to us."

Her eyes widen in shock. "Oh my. I'll wear gloves. And I can get my Dad to be in the room, too. Or my Dad could do it."

Nappa shrugs. He's had medical people jab him with needles and grab him wherever. 

"People get the idea that they're going to pet it," he explains. "Like an animal or something. Unwanted tail stroking was sexual assault, back home. I'll do whatever you're comfortable with, so long as we're clear on what we're doing."

Bulma nods and peers at his tail more closely. 

"That patch a little ways down from the base," she says. "Do you know what that does?"

He shrugs again. "Tail gland. It makes oils with our scent. That's all I know. Raditz' tail is greasy as hell there. He's clean so I dunno what's up with that."

Poor kid got some bad pimples there when he was a teenager, and nearly blacked out trying to pop the damn things. It's a common thing, for teens, but Raditz had the worst ones he's ever seen. Raditz just seems to get a lot of extra shit heaped on him for no good reason. 

Maybe, the pimples are why Raditz is damn near prissy about his appearance. 

Nappa gets it, though; with how people assume Saiyans are filthy, he feels compelled to stay well-groomed, and is meticulous with his mustache. 

"Do you think Raditz would be willing to get his tail looked at?" Bulma asks. 

That's a very bad idea, if she wants to keep things professional. 

"His tail is very sensitive," Nappa says. "You might want to pass on that one."

Bulma nods and grabs a pair of medical gloves from the bag she brought. 

"I think all I want is a sample of the oil from that patch," she says. "If it's not too bad, maybe a scraping of some of the skin there, to have some cells to examine." 

Nappa nods. "That's fine."

Bulma grabs a sample tube, a swab, and something that looks like a small blade. 

Reaching over, she gently rolls and strokes the swab over his tail gland, making sure that she follows the lay of the fur. It doesn't take more than a few seconds, and the only thing that touches him is the swab. 

Still, Raditz would probably be halfway to pitching a tent, just from that. 

"Okay," she says, "this blade goes almost perpendicular to the skin. It's for scraping, and not cutting. It shouldn't hurt, but I also don't have a tail, so I can't be certain. Hold very still, though."

"Sure."

Bulma prepares a small piece of glass, then reaches over with the blade in her hand. It scratches across the patch of his tail, and lightly shaves the spot.

It's not pleasant, but it's far from the worst thing that's happened to his tail.

Raditz? He might think differently. 

Bulma is done quickly. As she puts stuff away, Nappa sighs. 

"Yeah, I don't think Raditz could do that," he says. "It's up to him, but it's probably not a good idea."

She nods. "So, what's the difference with training it versus not training it?"

Ah. That's a good question.

"It's a training of will," he says. "The tail is just as sensitive; we just train to deal with the pain. That's all it really is. Maybe, Raditz has something different with his tail that makes it hard for him to deal with it. He's given it an honest try."

Bulma puts the samples into her cart and shakes her head. 

"It could help him to study it," she says. "Maybe, I can show him what it feels like on his arm, and he can decide if that will be okay."

Nappa scratches his chin in thought. 

"Not a bad idea, actually."

He holds his hand up, with the power ball still ready. 

"We ready to do this?" Nappa asks. 

Bulma grins and goes back to her laptop. 

"Ready when you are," she replies. 

That's all the permission he needs. 

Nappa tosses the power ball close to the ceiling of the hangar, then clenches his fist to make it burst. Almost immediately, the bright flash of artificial moonlight fills the hangar. 

He laughs from the thrill of it all, and his voice is already changing. Nappa grits his teeth at the hot surge of blood through his veins. 

"Your atmosphere is good for this," he says. 

It's taking no time at all. 

His vision goes red, and his blood feels like it's on fire. Everything inside him shifts, breaks, and grows, and it hurts in a familiar way. 

Nappa wants to crawl out of his skin from the pain. His skin, however, becomes what it needs to in order to fit the beast within. 

His vision clears, and he's a mighty Oozaru once again. 

It has been way too long. 

Nappa looks around with his keen sight and takes stock of the hangar. There's no damage anywhere, and he fits with a little room to spare. The shorts hold up just as well as any pair he's ever had. 

He looks down to see Bulma trying not to cower. Nappa can smell her terror, and he doesn't like that one bit. 

"I'm in perfect control," he says. "See? I'm talkin' to ya."

Bulma lets out a shaky breath. 

"Yeah."

Hm. That's not enough for him to feel good about this. Not that he can blame her at all; she's tiny and has a power level of twelve or something. 

"So, most Elite can control this form," Nappa says. "That wasn't a lot of us, though. There's not much need to control it, since it's used to wipe planets out."

The clack of her rapid-fire typing echoes throughout the hangar. Even terrified, she's in scientist mode. Nappa respects the hell out of that. 

"It's not a big deal that Raditz can't control his," he continues. "But he's been around me and Vegeta his whole life, so to him, he's the odd one out. But he's really normal. His is black, like his tail. Rare color, actually."

Bulma pauses in her typing. "Really?"

She's still terrified. 

He can't imagine her trying to deal with Raditz like this, even if Nappa has him pinned down. He's relieved that he's the one doing this. Then again, Raditz isn't dumb; he's going to be safe with his Oozaru and not allow any chance for mistakes. 

"Yep," he says. "Black tails are rare. King Vegeta had uh—  what's that stuff? Cinnamon. The color of that; his tail, hair, beard. Very rare, that one."

Bulma continues to type, but slows down some. Nappa thinks he's getting somewhere, with her. 

"The Oozaru is considered a gift from the Gods," he says. "The Moon gifted all of us; she shines on us equally."

"Is there any more to it than just conquering?" Bulma asks. 

It's a question that Nappa hasn't heard in a long time. People tend to not want to get close to a Saiyan, let alone ask questions. 

"All of my senses are stronger in this form," he explains. "I could smell an ant farting out in the garden."

Bulma snorts. "Ants don't fart."

"How do you know?" Nappa laughs. "You ain't smelled it."

She gives him an unimpressed look. 

"Describe the smell," she drawls. 

"Smells like a fart."

Bulma laughs. "God, you're as ridiculous as my Dad."

Nappa sits down on the floor of the hangar and minds where his tail goes. 

"I'll take that as a compliment," he says. 

Bulma walks up to him and peers at him in awe. 

"This is amazing, close up," she says.

Nappa smiles. This is nice. Nobody's reacted like this to his Oozaru form, ever. 

"Holy shit!" Bulma laughs. "Your teeth are so sharp! Do eat when you're like this?"

He huffs. "You don't wanna know about that."

"Oh, okay, so you eat people," she grumbles. 

Nappa laughs. "It's what you've gotta do, when you don't get ration bars sent with ya. Saiyans can eat anything, so, that's one way they wanted to save money."

"What the fuck?!" Bulma yells. "If I could, I'd wish Frieza back just to slap him in the goddamn face! And, cut off his damn tail and feed it to him!"

Oh, this girl is delightful. Her parents have done such a great job with her.

Bulma isn't terrified, anymore; Nappa has accomplished his mission. 

The rest of this is gonna be up to her. 

Your jaw drops as you watch the giant monkey tear through the competition grounds.

No wonder Nappa and Raditz stay in their rooms with the curtains shut during a full moon. Even as a child, Goku is huge in this footage. Hiding it could be an absolute pain in the ass. Goku can't control himself, either.

These moonglasses that Bulma is working on are very important. 

When the video stops, you go over to your discord tab, and see that Bulma is online. 

You have to know more about this. It's unlike anything you've ever seen, before. 

schrodingers-illness:  how's the research going?

sirenia_fragaria: it's fascinating, so far! It was wild seeing that transformation up close and not trying to destroy everything

schrodingers-illness: that's so cool. 

sirenia_fragaria: i probably shouldnt mention this, but i had to get Nappa's help for it. apparently, Raditz can't control his mind during his transformation, just like Goku couldn't. 

schrodingers-illness: i will keep this secret. i know he'd probably be embarrassed

sirenia_fragaria: he did seem really embarrassed. It's not like he can help it, though. if anything, that makes the glasses more of a necessity. though he might be embarrassed to use them idk

schrodingers-illness: i could see that. i dont know if comparing it to me needing to take meds or using thing to make life more easy would help but it is similar

sirenia_fragaria: that is true

schrodingers-illness: i don't want to be a certain kind of way, but their society does seem to really like shaming people for being anything less than perfect. 

sirenia_fragaria: yes, i have noticed that. candidly, i dont know how much of that is real, and how much of that is stuff Nappa had to tell them to get them to survive working for Frieza

You sit back and stare at the screen in thought. Bulma might have a good point, here.

schrodingers-illness: now that you mention it, Raditz said that he was five when their planet got destroyed. most of what he knows (and presumably Vegeta) would be from Nappa

sirenia_fragaria: oh wow. I didn't know he was that young. I think Vegeta is around the same age?

schrodingers-illness: I think so, too. I haven't spent any time with Nappa, so your guess is probably better than mine

sirenia_fragaria: he's a lot quieter, lately. seems concerned about Vegeta, and rightfully so, I think. Vegeta's mental health is visibly declining

You don't really care all that much, and you immediately chastise yourself for the callous thought. Bulma is not a pushover, and she's not a sucker. If anything, her trust issues are worse than yours. 

She sees something in Vegeta that other people aren't, and you think it's more than his good looks. 

You nonetheless feel protective of Raditz, despite everything that has transpired. 

schrodingers-illness: it's got to be bad, if Nappa is concerned. I don't think he's dense, necessarily. I just get the impression he's a "walk it off" kind of guy

sirenia_fragaria: yeah for sure. although, he definitely has more depth than people give him credit for. 

sirenia_fragaria:  I've got some footage from the security cameras, if you want to see it

schrodingers-illness: UM YES

sirenia_fragaria: good news, also! I got the under armor correct. No dicks have been exposed in the making of these glasses 👌

schrodingers-illness:  😶 Nappa's not an ugly guy but like... the dad factor is a big nope

sirenia_fragaria: yeeeep. honestly, after the chatting I did with him today, I think he thinks of us as kids, so it's mutual lol

The video finishes downloading, and you quickly click on it. 

Nappa stands in the middle of the hangar, wearing a pair of shorts. In his hand is a bright orb of light. He tosses it into the air, makes a gesture, and makes it explode. 

And then? You have trouble making sense of this.

You stare at the screen in shock. This looks like insanely high budget CGI. It's a werewolf transformation, but as King Kong. 

schrodingers-illness: it's like he's hulking out or something

sirenia_fragaria: yes! it was scary as fuck at first but he can talk and just hang out when he's like that. 

Nappa is huge in this form, compared to Goku. If an accident happens, there is absolutely no way to hide him, unless he manages to do so in the hangar. 

And then, there's Raditz. He can't control himself, when he's like this. He's got to be similar in size to Nappa. 

As much as you don't want to think about it, you're curious about what Raditz looks like, when he's like this. You're also curious about his state of mind, sometimes. 

His control seems to hang on by a perilous thread, when he's with you. Everything on him is strong— stronger than even a human his size. You can't even count the amount of times he's put his teeth to your neck. 

You close your eyes and massage your temples, as you feel a potential migraine coming on. 

Thinking about this too much isn't going to reveal anything new. You're better off not trying. 

And it's not like you're going to let anything happen with him again.

Chapter Text

You shuffle over to your favorite seat, with your coffee in hand. As you check the time, you smile. 

Today is a good day; you're out of bed much faster than usual.

You set your coffee down, check the weather report, and groan. 

It's another hot, potentially record-breaking day, today. You keep the blinds closed to block the sunlight, and try not to run any hot appliances, like your stove, to try to keep your bills low.

Your air conditioner turns on yet again; it seems like it's constantly fighting to keep you comfortable.

"You and me both, buddy," you grumble. 

Your POTS hates the summer heat. All it takes is bending down to pick something up off the ground in the heat of the day, and you're lightheaded. 

Summer is an indoorsy time of year, with your health the way it is. You used to like doing things and going on adventures in all kinds of weather; now, you're drastically limited in what you can do. 

It is what it is. Things were easier to make sense of by viewing events as neutral, unopinionated chaos. 

Now that your carefully-crafted, self-protecting worldview is shattered, you don't know what to make of things. 

Things still are what they are. But, now, you have confirmation of Gods, an afterlife, and an oh-so-tempting wish granting dragon, whom you think is just itching to grant a Monkey's Paw wish. 

You take a sip of your coffee and check to see that you have a message from Bulma. 

sirenia_fragaria: good morning! what's up? 

schrodingers-illness: oh, not much. just kinda contemplating the nature of suffering, through the lens of having concrete proof of the existence of gods.

sirenia_fragaria: yeah it's kinda fucked up to know that the Laissez faire method apparently is how deities like to run things

schrodingers-illness: or lack of running lol

sirenia_fragaria: 💯

sirenia_fragaria: So, I was wondering you wanted to come visit, maybe in a few weeks this fall? 

You scramble to check your calendar. There are a few doctor appointments coming up in the next four weeks. The dates of your controlled med refills align nicely enough that the end of October seems to work out okay.

That's in about two months. 

schrodingers-illness: um YES

sirenia_fragaria: awesome!

schrodingers-illness: looks like the week of Halloween, even 😁

sirenia_fragaria: HELL YES

You are going to dress in the sexiest thing you can find, just to make things appropriately awkward. 

sirenia_fragaria: I've got a mermaid costume planned out, with pasties. 

schrodingers-illness: tis the season

schrodingers-illness: damn, i've got to come up with something to match that energy 😈

sirenia_fragaria: 😈

You're going to remind Raditz exactly what an inferior human looks like. If he gets jealous and insecure about other men noticing you while you're visiting, that's his problem.

You won't let one person ruin your fun. 

sirenia_fragaria: oh btw the moonglasses study is going... interesting. it's slow but yeah

schrodingers-illness: what are you learning?

sirenia_fragaria: well, i'm trying to find out if that tail gland has something to do with the transformation. That's my current theory. 

schrodingers-illness: ah. yeah, it could be

sirenia_fragaria: I got samples from Nappa, and I'm going to see later today if I can get some from Raditz

 

You attempt to squash the sudden pang of jealousy you feel. Unfortunately, you don't succeed. 

schrodingers-illness: uh... be careful with that one lol

sirenia_fragaria: Nappa warrned me, but don't worry. this is strictly scientific and I won't be fondling him or anything

schrodingers-illness: lol. just wanted to make sure you were aware

sirenia_fragaria: oh, definitely

To your relief, Bulma drops the subject. To your chagrin, however, she brings something up that is way more troubling. 

sirenia_fragaria: it's honestly crazy to me that Nappa has forgiven Vegeta for disposing of him. 

schrodingers-illness: he WHAT?

sirenia_fragaria: oh god I never told you how Nappa died?

schrodingers-illness: no! I thought it was just like every other guy you guys ended up having to kill?

sirenia_fragaria: oh shit. uh

What in the world?

sirenia_fragaria: so Nappa wouldn't quit, even after it was obvious Goku was going to defeat him. 

schrodingers-illness: that tracks

sirenia_fragaria: yeah. eventually, he went after Gohan, and Goku had to take him out of the fight. he didn't want to kill him though. he ended up breaking Nappa's back and paralyzing him from the waist down

schrodingers-illness: WHAT THE FUCK?? GOKU?? *THAT* GOKU???

sirenia_fragaria: yeah 🫤 it still shocks me any time he has to do something that extreme

sirenia_fragaria: Vegeta ended up vaporizing Nappa for failing

Cold dread washes over you, and you hastily type back a reply.

schrodingers-illness: why in the hell do you have this man living in your home?

sirenia_fragaria is typing... typing...

sirenia_fragaria: you're the first person who has directly called me out on that

schrodingers-illness: seriously?

sirenia_fragaria: yeah 🫤 idk if it's just people are going along with it because I am me, but yeah. 

sirenia_fragaria: Vegeta's singular purpose in life was to get powerful enough to kill Frieza, and to let nothing stand in the way of that. He's trying to make defeating Goku his new goal, but he seems aimless.

schrodingers-illness: that's fair. tbh, bad choices aside, I can't imagine the trauma those guys went through working for that guy. 

You don't know Vegeta or Nappa's personal stuff with Frieza. Raditz has given you a tiny glimpse into how things were, but nothing substantial. 

The pieces you have, though, are enough to tell you that it was horrible with Frieza, probably beyond your imagination.

sirenia_fragaria: idk if it's The Goku Effect or what, but something's changing with Vegeta. He saved Gohan's life on Namek and actually let someone live who he would have absolutely killed. like, Goku was able to convince him to not kill Ginyu

schrodingers-illness: that sounds promisingly less murderous

You don't feel like the guy needs applause for doing the bare fucking minimum, but, knowing his background, it is a bit remarkable. 

sirenia_fragaria: honestly, the brutality of all of this has become so normal to me, and maybe all of us, and the reality check was needed

schrodingers-illness: if you ever need a "regular person" reality check, i'm your person 😉

sirenia_fragaria:  if Vegeta being around worries you, I completely understand if you don't want to come back 

schrodingers-illness: no, it's fine. if he was going to do something, he would have already

You swallow thickly. The guy is perfectly fine with killing the man who raised him. What is he willing to do to Raditz?

Why do you care?

You close your eyes and sigh. You know why you care, and you're doing a poor job at ignoring why:

You know that somehow, you have unfinished business with Raditz. 

Raditz walks down the hall toward Bulma's lab. It's a little after lunch, and he figures that he can see what she needs while he's resting his stomach. 

This tail swab and scrape thing should be okay. He can do it to himself, after she shows him what the scrape feels like on his arm. 

Nappa seems to indicate that it's probably too much for him, but the way Bulma describes the procedure, it should be just fine. 

Nappa underestimates Raditz' pain tolerance, with his tail.

That's fine; he knows the old man means well.

Raditz isn't sure if Bulma wants to do that electrode stuff with him, so he's got his shirt off, just in case. He's gonna go right back to training after this, anyway. 

He turns down the far corridor of the long, blank white-on-white hallway, and arrives in front of a closed door. The green light is on outside the door, however.

That's the go-ahead signal to enter. Shrugging, Raditz waves his tail in front of the sensor, waits for the doors to open, and steps into the lab. 

Bulma looks up as he enters and gives him a smile. 

"Hey!" She calls. "Glad you could get here. Yamcha says you're working your ass off- well, figuratively, that is."

Raditz stops and cranes his neck to look at his ass.

"I think it's getting bigger," he says. 

She snickers. "Looks like it. Let me know if you need new clothes to contain it."

"Sometime soon, yes," he laughs. 

He's sure that Bulma's mother will love helping him shop. 

Bulma scoots her chair out from under her desk, stands, and makes her way over to a nearby paper-covered examination table. She motions over to the table, then begins to sanitize her hands.

"Alright," she says. "If you could have a seat up here, we can get started."

Raditz swallows. He's not sure if the professional feeling nature of this makes him feel all that good. Tail exams from doctors almost always hurt. 

Still, he makes his way over to the table and sits down. 

The sight of what looks like a razor blade makes his blood run cold. 

"What's the blade for?" He asks. 

Bulma puts on a pair of medical gloves and grabs the blade. 

"It's for the skin scraping," she explains. 

Raditz' ears start ringing, and his vision blacks out around the edges. 

"You're looking faint," Bulma says. "How about you lie down?"

He swallows. There's not enough air in the room.

"Raditz."

"Yeah?"

"Lie the fuck down. Now."

He practically flops back onto the examination table and curls his tail around his thigh. 

"Good," she says. "I can't pick you up if you pass out. It's a very dull blade, and we can try one out on your arm, first."

"Okay."

"We should probably do the swab before anything," Bulma says. 

She removes a swab from a wrapper, and gently rolls it down his forearm, then back up. It doesn't feel like much of anything. 

Raditz shrugs. "Yeah that's no big deal on my tail. You can do that."

It might get him going a little, but it's unlikely to be a problem. 

Raditz partially unwinds his tail from his leg, just so she can get to the gland a little.

"Alright," she says. "I'll get this one done, then."

She grabs another swab, unwraps it, and goes over his tail in the same manner. 

The swab feels about as exciting as a hernia exam. It's surprising to him that Bulma touching his tail doesn't do anything for him, but that's exactly what he feels. 

Bulma finishes the swab and puts it to the side. Raditz feels faint when he watches her pick up one of the blades. 

"Are you wearing lotion or anything right now?" She asks, motioning toward his arm. 

Raditz shakes his head and Bulma rolls her eyes. 

"Men," she grumbles. "Atrocious skincare habits aside, that'll be good for getting a sample. If we feel that we can do the tail, I can compare the two samples and look for differences."

He sucks in a breath. 

"Sure," he says, not trusting himself to say much more. 

Raditz takes very good care of his skin, when he can. He's just not wearing anything like that, today. 

Bulma reaches over with the blade, runs it nearly perpendicular to his skin, and gently scrapes it over the surface. It's not much more than a scratch; it feels more like shaving, than anything. 

Raditz expects redness or blood, but when she pulls back and puts the sampled oil and skin cells onto a slide, there's nothing. 

He exhales and laughs in relief. 

"Yeah you can do that to my tail," he says. 

Bulma looks practically giddy. 

"You sure?" She asks. 

She's already got the other blade in her hand, and she's scooting her stool closer to him. 

Raditz unwinds his tail from his leg and sits up so she can get to his tail gland. 

"Yep," he says. "Scrape away."

Bulma reaches forward, and Raditz turns his head away. He still can't look at it. 

The scraping isn't pleasant, but it's far from the worst thing his tail has gone through. After a few seconds, the procedure is done, and Bulma scoots back to put the sample on a slide. 

Raditz hops off of the exam table and looks back at his tail. There's nothing to indicate anything has been done. There isn't even any fur missing. 

"Honestly," Bulma says, "considering how sensitive your tail is, you were pretty brave about this. I imagine that even if you're more tolerant, there's still potential triggers from past—"

"Hey Bulma!" 

Bulma shrieks and nearly drops her slide. 

Out of reflex, Raditz blocks the intruder's line of sight to Bulma with his body and prepares to fight. 

The bottom drops out of his world when he sees who they are:

Father is alive. He's standing next to Kakarot. 

They look like twins, more than anything.

Raditz knows this is bad news, for him. Kakarot can completely control the narrative, and, judging by the glare they're both giving him, he has taken full advantage of that. 

Raditz is scared. Before he can stop it, he wraps his tail around his leg like a child. 

Clueless about what's going on, Bulma stands, brushes past Raditz, and scowls at Kakarot.

"I've told you dozens of times to not instant transmission on me like that!" She yells. 

Father glances at Bulma and hesitates for a moment before leveling a glare at Raditz. 

"Well, we were here to check in," he says. "But, not for you. Running into you was an accident."

Raditz swallows. "I— how are you even—"

"Your mother and I know exactly what you did," he says. 

Mama's also alive? 

He wants to see his Mama so badly. He doesn't know how, but she will help him get through all this pain of you rejecting him. She will understand.

Even if it's a hug, Raditz wants his Mama.

"How long have you been here?" Raditz asks. 

Father narrows his eyes. "Since that wish was made."

That's a long time. They've been with Kakarot and they haven't bothered to contact him at all. 

Do they not want him?

Kakarot knows Raditz lives here, and can sense energy. Has Kakarot intentionally set this up for them to run into him? Should he really believe that they're here for Bulma?

"Is it true?" Father hisses. "Did you do what I've heard you've done?"

Raditz swallows and manages to nod.

"So you did," Father spits. "You beat him and crushed his ribs while laughing about it. I get that PTO forces people to do horrible things, but you didn't even draw the line at your own brother!"

Raditz' tail coils around his leg even tighter. He feels like a child, again. 

"I was high," he mumbles.

"You were WHAT?!"

Raditz can't even look at him. 

"I never want to see you again," Father says. "After hearing about what you did, I didn't want to see you again in the first place. Your mother and I are done with you."

Mama, too? 

His tail coils even tighter around his leg and he crosses his arms to hug himself. 

Father is more furious than Raditz has ever seen him. Raditz wants to say something, anything, to try to plead his case, but no words come out.

"You're dead to us," Father says. "You're the biggest mistake I've ever made. I hoped that I'd want you, someday, but you're nothing more than a regret. My regret is that we didn't get rid of you when we learned your mother was pregnant."

Raditz trembles and manages to look up. Whatever hope he has that Father is just saying things out of anger dries up when he sees how serious he is. 

Mama is seriously okay with this?

Kakarot stands there like a confused idiot. He doesn't understand a word they're saying. Raditz wonders what the so-called "pure-hearted" hero might think, if he could understand. 

"You are dead to me," Father says. "I never want to—"

"You're done. Get the fuck out of here, before I send you back to hell."

Nappa.

Nappa strolls into the room, as tough and commanding as ever. He's here to save him once again, and Raditz feels like he can breathe. 

Father turns to glare at Nappa.

"You let him do this?" He asks. "Is this really what honor looks like, to you? To murder your own kin?"

Nappa steps forward to stand in front of Raditz. 

"I don't have to answer a goddamn thing from you," Nappa says. "He knows what he did. It's between him and Kakarot to settle it, as a matter of honor, not you."

Nappa narrows his eyes and scowls. "If you want out of his life so badly, then get the fuck out."

The switch back to common immediately puts Bulma on alert. 

"Thats enough," she spits. "You can either be nice, or you can get the hell out of my house."

She steps forward and looks like she's about to go off, but Kakarot interrupts her.

"Dad, I don't know what the heck you're saying, but that's enough," he says. 

He grabs Father's arm and Father flash reacts like he's getting attacked. Kakarot catches his fist with no effort. 

"I know you're keyed up," Kakarot says. "We don't need to escalate this. Let's go."

Father scowls. "Don't tell me what to do."

Kakarot wraps his hand around Father's wrist, grimaces, and gives an awkward chuckle. With his other hand, he makes a fist and presses two fingers to his forehead.

"Eh, well, sorry, Dad, but—"

They blur out of existence with a pop.

They're gone. 

Father is gone— disappeared like dozens of other times. 

Father doesn't want him. He never did. Kakarot doesn't want him.

You don't want him. Mama doesn't even want him. 

He turns away from Bulma and Nappa and tries to hide his face as his eyes burn with tears. 

Nobody wants him. He should have never been born.

His chin quivers and his trembling legs give out. Raditz collapses to his knees in a pathetic heap. The next breath he draws in is an ugly, gasping sob. 

"Nobody wants me." 

Bulma rushes to his side and wraps her tiny arms around him. 

"Nobody wants me." 

She tries to shush and soothe him.

"Nobody wants me. Nobody wants me!"

Raditz is losing it. He's done. He can't keep going. 

He slides to the floor, with his face down.

"Nobody wants me! Nobody wants me!"

His words are pathetic, and childish, but he can't contain them. 

Raditz can't keep going, being so unwanted.

He hiccups and curls into a ball to hug his knees. His tail is tucked deeply between his legs. 

"Nobody wants me," he murmurs. 

Its actually true, now. 

Nappa kneels down and gently brushes his hair away from his face like he did so many times when he was a child.

"I do," he says. "I want you. You're my son and have been for a long time."

Nappa glares at where Father and Kakarot once stood. 

"They go after you like that, then they have a problem with me," he says. "Period."

Raditz nods mutely and Nappa ruffles his hair. 

Nappa does everything a Dad should do in this sort of situation, and it makes perfect sense, now:

Nappa is his Father— not by biological means, but through the fire of war and struggle. 

There is nobody else in the universe Raditz thinks of as his Father. 

Chapter Text

Bulma's not just book smart. She's people smart. She catches on right away to what's going on. 

There's a furious tenderness in her expression— a protectiveness that makes Nappa swear she's gotta have a Saiyan ancestor somewhere in her bloodline.

She gives Raditz this look as she smooths her hand over his hair. 

"We knew what you did when we decided to bring you back," she says. "You're not the same person. I like you. You are wanted, here."

"And I'll say it with someone as my witness," Nappa says. "That idiot's decision makes about as much sense as someone cutting off their own tail. That is the value of what he's discarding."

A Saiyan's tail: a prized symbol of their people, a blessing from the moon, a significant and sensitive thing that does much, much more than let a Saiyan transform. 

Raditz is all of the above. 

Still, Raditz is shaking and crying. Nappa hasn't seen him like this since he was a child. It pisses him off.

 "If I could sense energy," Nappa grumbles, "I'd go kick their asses— or try to, I guess." 

Bulma rubs soothing circles on Raditz' back. He doesn't make a sound, but the tears stream down his face.

"What happened?" She asked. "That was Raditz and Goku's father?"

Raditz nods and sniffles. 

"He knows what I did," he murmurs. "Hates me for it."

The loud, sobbing tears begin again, and Nappa is at a loss as to what to do.

Bulma is crying now, too. She holds him tighter and slowly rubs his back.

"He just needs to talk to you," she says. "You're a great guy, now. They just need to give you a chance."

Raditz' breath hitches. 

"That's not gonna happen," Nappa says. 

Bulma turns her watery gaze to look up at him and clenches her jaw when she sees how serious he looks. 

Nappa hesitates for a second. He can't repeat the extent of the damage in front of Raditz. He can't make him live through that all over again.

"He disowned him," Nappa says.

Bulma scowls and looks at Raditz. 

"Fine," she says. "Then you're ours. And anyone who's got something to say about you is gonna have to deal with me. Let's just see them try to fuck around and find out."

Nappa appreciates her spirited defense of Raditz, but the kid is barely registering much of anything. 

"Come on," He says. "Get up. Let's get you to your room."

Sleeping this off is about all Nappa can think might help.

Raditz stumbles to his feet, which don't want to work. Nappa braces him and helps him walk back to his room, like he's done countless times before when Raditz has been too injured to walk straight. 

As they walk through the halls of Capsule Corp, Nappa tries to tell himself that this is just another time Raditz has gotten injured, and all he needs is a good rest. 

He's lying to himself, though. This is a big fucking deal. Raditz has confirmation that his father never wanted him— something he's suspected for years. 

The fact that Raditz' own mother wants nothing to do with him is the worst part of it all. For his whole life, Raditz has held that woman up, almost like a patron saint watching down on him. 

Poor kid. It makes no sense; Gine is supposedly a softie.

The elevator doors open at the living quarters, and Nappa ushers Raditz quickly through the foyer, common area, and down the hall. Anyone they pass by gives them an odd look, but Bulma quickly silences them with a sharp glare. 

Nappa opens Raditz' bedroom door and guides him over to the bed. He yanks Raditz' shoes and socks off, lifts the sheet, and tucks him in like he did when he was a child. 

Raditz is a grown-ass adult, but Nappa thinks that the confrontation has him feeling like a child, again. Nappa is just gonna tell that child part of Raditz that he's safe with him.

"I know you want space," Nappa says. "You know where to find me if you need anything, though."

Raditz doesn't say anything. Nappa removes Raditz' phone from the nearby charger, and places it directly in front of him, to make sure that Raditz knows he's not bullshitting him about getting in touch. 

Nappa leaves the room, goes back to his room for the phone he rarely uses, grabs it, and leaves. 

It's hard for Nappa to reconcile the years between himself and Bardock. When Bardock died, they were around a similar age. 

Nappa doesn't know the full math, but he thinks he's about thirty years older than Bardock, now, give or take a year. 

Bardock is a kid, making immature, kid decisions, because he doesn't have enough experience with mistakes to learn how to make a more mature decision. 

Nappa realizes with a bitter chuckle that somehow, he is the cooler head in this situation. If that's not a sign of him getting old, he's not sure what is. 

Bulma waits in the hallway for him, and Nappa realizes with a sigh that he's going to have to tell her what's going on. 

Since when is Nappa the diplomatic one? That's Raditz' job, usually.

He glances toward Raditz' door in worry and realizes that Raditz has been off ever since you came along. 

It's just a fling, though, right? Raditz is mopey because he can't get laid constantly, and—

Nappa pinches the bridge of his nose as he realizes exactly what's going on: 

Raditz has feelings for you. He's irrational, moody, and depressed, because of it. He's practically addicted to you, and he can't get his fix. 

Nappa knows about some of the drugs, but it's a shock to hear Raditz has done them during missions. Nappa fucking hates himself for missing the signs. Raditz is sneaky, sure, but Nappa is a royal bodyguard. He is highly trained to see things that other people don't. 

He's got some more failures to come to terms with. He'll deal with it, but he's got to handle one crisis at a time.

Are you rejecting Raditz? It seems impossible, with all the screaming he overheard from the two of you. From what Nappa knows, Raditz took you for a long, romantic walk in the garden. Panchi says she set the mood with some roses and chocolate and whatever. 

Maybe, some wires are crossed, there. Nappa isn't the kind of guy who can do relationship shit like that, so someone else needs to take over on that front.

And now, Bardock comes along and fucks everything up even more, maybe confirming the lie that Raditz isn't worthwhile. 

Bulma gives him an expectant look as he approaches. Sighing, Nappa admits something to her that he never, ever likes to do:

"I need your help."

It's easy to disown him, after seeing him. 

Bardock is used to seeing a chubby-handed, wide-eyed little boy with a mischievous smile. 

The man he saw is an absolute stranger, bearing little resemblance to the child Bardock knows as his son. 

He's huge, and Bardock can't think of anyone on either side of the family who is half as big. His tail isn't even the same color, anymore.

He's got a lot of Gine's features, though: a long, delicate face, the most beautiful hair he's ever seen—

That cute, slender, upturned nose that Bardock loves so much. 

He refuses to think about the dark, brooding eyes that are a mirror of his own. No; there's nothing on the man who calls himself "Raditz" that looks like Bardock. 

If Bardock didn't know better, it would look like his wife had an affair. Despite that, the smell of that man is all too familiar, and he hates that. 

A pretty, well-groomed man with fashionable bands around his arm and thigh. Perfectly plucked and trimmed hair on his lower stomach. Hairless underarms and legs.

A fucking belly ring with a sparkling, red stone, and whatever the hell that was through his nipples.

No. That is not Bardock's child. Not by a long shot. 

General Nappa seriously lets this happen? Sure, he's got a liberal reputation, but it's shocking. 

Bardock is angry at Kakarot for dragging him away from the scene, but, at the same time, Raditz is very strong, compared to Bardock. If he got the balls to physically defend himself, Bardock would be done-for. 

And maybe, Bardock deserves it for going off like that. 

Bardock wants to punch it out, rather than talk. Talk is cheap. Blood, sweat, and pain speak far louder. A Saiyan ought to respond to Bardock's words with rage. He ought to respond to Bardock by inflicting twice the amount of pain with his fists. 

But, no. The soft, meticulously groomed and decorated person in front of him cowered and quivered and squeaked out excuses and teared up like an absolute—

Gine. 

This is how Gine might react. Bardock isn't sure; he has never and will never speak in such a way to his soft, beloved wife. 

She's a civilian, though, and not a warrior. She doesn't have a warrior's heart; her heart is that of giving and of service. 

Kakarot has both the heart of a warrior, and that of his mother. 

What does Raditz have from them, other than some of their looks?

All Bardock knows of is a doped-up murderer. 

Teleporting to Piccolo after such a confrontation is a little uncomfortable, but it's better than the alternatives. Kakarot explains who they ran into, and Piccolo simply nods and walks in the opposite direction. 

Bardock shudders to think of the idea of teleporting to Chi-Chi, Gohan, or, Gods forbid, Gine. 

Bardock and Kakarot take a few minutes to walk through the forest to collect themselves, though Bardock knows that the walk is for him, mostly. After a few minutes out in nature, he's much more calm and able to think things through. 

Some of it might have been a little much, but the truth hurts, sometimes. Bardock got Gine pregnant when they were just nineteen. It was a complete accident, and the arrival of their first child took a lot away from him:

Gine's fiery spark. Their ability to travel together, even if she stayed off of the squad's official duties. Their sex life destroyed by crying and whining. 

Gine had no choice but to work, to supplement his income in the PTO. 

Bardock tries to shove the resentment to the side, telling himself often that he is wholly responsible for his actions.

But, Bardock's actions have led to numerous terrible things, including the death of his second-born son. 

His reaction to that stranger wearing the scent of his son is justified, and he feels himself getting angry all over again.

The bastard is still 'crybaby Raditz', just like the kids have teased him. Bardock ignores the foreign jab of hurt at the thought of Raditz being more like his mother than anyone thinks.

Kakarot keeps glancing over at him, and Bardock knows that he wants to start talking, but is trying to find the right time to do it. 

There is no right time for this, so the time may as well be now.  There will be fallout from this, no matter how justified he feels. 

"Just say it, Kakarot," he says.

Kakarot visibly shakes himself and takes a breath.

"I don't know why you won't tell me what you said," Kakarot huffs. "It bothers me a lot, Dad. If you're gonna have a private conversation, then have it privately for real. That was not a private conversation."

Bardock frowns. "He's lucky I spoke in Saiyan instead of Common."

Sighing, Kakarot runs his hand through his hair. "I appreciate that you're defensive of me and Gohan, but I do have the situation handled."

Bardock nods, then looks down at the ground. 

"It takes a lot for me to go off like that," he admits. "But that kind of betrayal deserves nothing but the harshest words."

Bardock suspects —no, he knows— that Kakarot would take great offense at how he disowned Raditz.

"What involvement you want with him is your business," Kakarot says. "What happened with Gohan and me, though, is over and done. We just don't speak to Raditz."

Bardock shakes his head. That's a passive, limp-wristed way of handling things. Saiyans are direct; they say what's on their mind. If Kakarot is done with Raditz, then he needs to say it to him.

But, Kakarot insists that this is his own business. 

As they walk up toward the house, Bardock comes to a conclusion. 

"That's fair," he says. "I'll respect your handling of the situation if you respect mine. I should think that is even-handed."

Kakarot hesitates for a moment before sighing. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he says. "You're going to have a lot of explaining to do to Mom, but that's your business."

Bardock cringes as Gine and Chi-Chi come outside with baskets full of clothes to hang up on the drying line. 

He figures he ought to talk to her now about it. 

Waiting will only make things worse for him.

Gine will be hurt enough, and she deserves to hear it from him, not secondhand. 

"Gine," he calls. "We need to talk."

She smiles and quickly excuses herself. 

"Yes, bfka?" She giggles. 

Bardock swallows thickly. She's not going to call him that for a while, after this. She's probably not going to giggle at him like a girl with a crush, either. 

As they make their way across the clearing, she reaches out and holds his hand, and her tail wraps around his. 

Her touch soothes him, and he realizes that though disowning Raditz is the morally correct choice, the way he did so was not. 

As soon as they're in a more private location, Bardock turns to Gine and prepares himself for the worst. 

"Kakarot and I didn't get to visit with his friend," he says. "When we appeared, Raditz was right there."

Gine gasps and puts her hands over her mouth. 

"Kakarot is right," he says. "He's not the child we know. Obviously, he's an adult, now, but—"

"But?" 

Bardock cringes. He doesn't know how to break this to her, and he decides he should be blunt. 

"I confronted him about what he did to his brother," he says. "His excuse was that he was high. He looks like a stripper, to be honest." 

The tears are already falling from her eyes. 

"I lost my temper," he admits. "And then, I disowned him." 

Gine falls to her knees, sobbing. 

"Why?" She cries. "Why? My baby! Why?" 

He kneels down on the ground and wraps his arms around her. She can't seem to decide if she wants to cling to him, or hit him. 

Gine eventually settles on clutching him and shaking him. After she settles down a little, he figures he should say more.

"I don't know how dangerous he is," Bardock admits. "Once the shock wears off, I don't know if he will react violently or not."

Gine shakes her head. 

"I can handle him," she murmurs. 

"You absolutely cannot," he insists. "He's powerful enough to be on the Ginyu force, now. And, we know what he did to his own brother."

"He wouldn't hurt his Mama."

Her voice comes out weak and uncertain. 

Bardock feels uncertain, too, but for other reasons. The fact that Raditz didn't throw a punch to defend his honor confuses the hell out of him. 

"I don't feel like it's safe," he says. "But, he will have a chance to prove himself when these cyborgs show up. I can't tell you what to do, but—"

"Is it really that bad?" She interjects. 

Bardock sighs. "I don't know. If he shows that he's changed, then I'll take my lumps and admit that I was wrong." 

He feels her shaking her head as she grips him tighter. 

"Love isn't earned," she says. 

"But, trust is," he says. "Especially when it has been broken."

They aren't going to agree on this, and he's prepared for her to be upset. Maybe he can offer a compromise. 

"I worry for your safety, if you confront him," he admits. "Will you wait until we know more, at least? Kakarot's friends are keeping an eye on him."

Gine pulls back from him. The hurt and mistrust on her face stings, but Bardock cares more about her safety than his comfort. 

"I can't guarantee that I will, but I'll try."

He closes his eyes and nods. 

That's more than he expected. 

Bardock hopes that he's wrong about everything. 

It has been two days since the incident with Bardock —fuck that guy— and Raditz. 

Bulma does not like how things are going. 

There's too much to keep up with. She's been so damn busy lately, and that makes it even harder to keep on top of stuff that she feels to be important. 

You're acting weird. You barely mention Raditz at all. In fact, you don't indicate whatsoever that you know what's going on with him.

Raditz never talks about you. 

Is he that dumb to not give you his phone number? You seem like the type who won't volunteer that kind of thing unless asked. 

She wonders if you're too shy with each other. It's not like she can ask Krillin or Yamcha; they're not subtle at all, and they will make a mess of this if they open their damn mouths.

Bulma is a hopeless romantic, though, so she's going to toss you at each other again, and see what happens. 

And now, there's this bullshit with Raditz getting disowned. Bulma is absolutely fucking furious about the nerve of that man, to come into her home and treat Raditz like shit to humiliate him in front of everyone. 

Raditz is an absolute fucking disaster, now. He's come out of his bedroom maybe once since the incident, and that was to go to the bathroom. 

Otherwise, he's in bed, in the same clothes. He hasn't showered, hasn't eaten, and, she suspects, has barely had anything to drink. 

Bulma is done playing nice with him. She's bringing out the big guns. 

Steeling herself, she walks down the hallway, with Mom right behind her. When she gets to Raditz' door, she opens it without knocking; he doesn't respond, anyway. 

"Raditz, sweetie," Mom calls out. "If you're going to stay in bed, how about a bit of food?"

A deep sigh is about all they get in acknowledgement. 

Bulma trudges over to the bedside table and flicks the light on. The look in Raditz' eyes makes her almost want to turn it off again:

The light is gone from his eyes, and he looks dead inside. 

Though Mom can be dense, she sees it immediately. Placing the food down on the nearby dresser, she sits down in bed next to Raditz.

"I can't let this go on," Mom says. "As a mother, I see you hurting and it's killing me that you won't even eat. Will you eat something for me, sweetie? Please?"

She smooths his hair down and tucks a strand of it behind his ear, the same way she did with Bulma as a child. 

Raditz slowly sits up. Mom turns to grab the tray of food and places it in front of him. 

His lifeless gaze goes to the food, and he begins to mechanically eat. He doesn't really react to Mom's attempts to talk to him, either. 

Bulma doesn't expect him to perk up right away, but this is a disturbing lack of engagement.

Raditz needs to get up and get out again, and everyone needs to keep an eye on him. Bulma doesn't like the hopelessness she sees in his eyes. 

So, everyone who gives a shit about him knows at least that he's been disowned. Yamcha is coming over this afternoon with Krillin to take Raditz outside to the garden to work on energy sensing.

If they can get Raditz out of the house, that is. 

"—and feed all those big muscles, Mr. Handsome." Mom giggles, giving Raditz' bicep a squeeze.

Bulma fights the urge to roll her eyes. Mom is just being Mom, but it's embarrassing, sometimes. 

Still, this is a huge improvement over Raditz not eating at all. 

He finishes the plates of food and the juice, then sighs and hangs his head. 

"They don't want me," he murmurs. 

Mom sits down next to Raditz and wraps her arms around him to give him a hug.

Bulma wonders how many hugs he's gotten like this. With the cruel life he was forced to lead, she can't imagine it was a lot. Even with Nappa's efforts, there probably wasn't room for tenderness while trying to kill to survive. 

"We can sit back and think about what happened all day long," Mom says. "The truth is, sweetheart, that thinking more about it won't reveal new information. Thinking about it over and over again is just gonna let him hurt you over and over again."

Bulma sighs. Bringing Mom to help is one of the best decisions she's made, during this whole debacle. She's got to be careful, though. If Mom finds out the extent of what was said, she will hop in her fastest car, blast her way over to Goku's house, and go at that man with her bare hands. 

"She's right," Bulma adds. "And, whether you want one or not, you have a sister now."

She leans over and obnoxiously musses his hair the same way she used to do to Goku. 

Raditz grumbles and leans to the side, but Bulma reaches over to mess with his hair again. 

"Bulma," he whines. "Stop touching my hair."

Bulma snickers and goes to do it again, and this time, Raditz dodges. 

"Now, now," Mom chuckles. "Stop bickering, children."

Raditz' laughter and smile don't reach his eyes. Nappa is right; he's very good at hiding what he's feeling. 

Mom pats his arm and grabs the tray of food. 

"Why don't you get a nice, hot shower?" She suggests. "I'm making pesto, tonight."

Bulma looks for any sign of excitement from the mention of one of his favorite foods, but sees nothing. 

Raditz shrugs. 

Oh, no. That's not going to do. 

Bulma pokes his arm. He does nothing, so she pokes him again. She pokes him until he glances over at her in annoyance. 

"I'll keep poking you until you get up, stinky," she sneers.

Mom giggles and disappears out of the room with the tray. As soon as she's gone, Raditz hunkers down in bed. He attempts to stay put, but Bulma persists. 

If there's anything she's good at, it's persisting. 

Eventually, Raditz throws the sheets off with a grumble, and slides out of bed. With one last glare, he disappears out of the room. 

"Bye, grumpy!" Bulma calls. 

The bathroom door closes. 

Sighing, Bulma stands and begins to strip the sheets off of the bed. Mom is getting those dishes done, and the last thing she wants is Raditz trying to sneak back into bed. 

Being upset is fine. She knows he's devastated. Staying in bed, though, is only going to make things worse. 

The people who do care about Raditz deserve a chance to show him.

Chapter Text

It's worrying.

The last time you had your heart broken, it made you permanently worse. Your daily pain increased, and your pain and fatigue thresholds both lowered drastically. 

You're afraid that this hookup-turned-disaster is having a similar effect. 

It's not about feelings, though; it's the fact that you've let a bigot touch you in such an intimate way. You're reeling with regret, and an unnamable feeling deep in the pit of your stomach.

Raditz is right, too:

You're ruined on anyone else, including your own hands. 

Oh, it's so great. You don't need clitoral stimulation to orgasm. 

You need penetration— sizeable penetration. You want at least three orgasms, but prefer five or more. 

It's a nightmare, and your arm is fucking tired. 

Instead of telling Bulma, you complain to your friend with the abusive ex. She totally gets it and tells you to remain strong. You're trying, but you're not sure if you can resist Raditz, if he shows interest in you when you come back in the fall. 

You can't tell Bulma the whole scope of what's going on, because that'll make things awkward for her. Raditz has nowhere to go if he gets kicked out; his brother doesn't want anything to do with him. 

It still surprises you that Goku is that resentful toward Raditz, but not toward Piccolo or Vegeta. 

None of that is your business, though, so you stay out of it. 

Aside from not wanting to make things awkward for Bulma, you know she will encourage you to get some of that dick as soon as you can. 

Sighing, you take a look at your notifications and see that you have a message from Bulma. 

sirenia_fragaria: hey 😁 I was wondering... we don't have much going on right now. Did you want to come earlier than planned?
 
schrodingers-illness: i don't think i can, but i can double check my calendar

sirenia_fragaria: 👍

You go through your calendar, and double check your schedule of when you need to refill your meds. The conclusion is the same; you can't leave town any sooner. 

You go back to your messages and what you read next isn't surprising. 

sirenia_fragaria: it'd be great to catch up if you can! Also, there's a seat waiting here for you 🍆 

You debate what to tell her, if anything. 

How is she so sure that he still wants to hook up with you? That indicates that she doesn't know what's going on. Or, maybe Raditz has said something.

If he has, then he will have to settle for an inferior human. 

schrodingers-illness: I wish I could 😩 but I'm going to have to stick with the original plan

sirenia_fragaria: is there anything I can do to help?

schrodingers-illness: Unfortunately no 😞 I have bloodwork next week, then the week after I will discuss the bloodwork with my GP. Then, I have a neuro visit the next week. 

schrodingers-illness: in between there, I have to refill 3 meds which are classified as narcotics. so, I have to fill them on the same day every month, without getting extra, at the same pharmacy every single time. 

sirenia_fragaria: that's nuts

schrodingers-illness: yeah. sometimes, even then, it's hard to get the meds on time. It's illegal to take my prescription for those, go out of state, and get it filled while Im on a trip. and even if it wasn't, no pharmacy would fill it bc they'd think I'm a drug seeker. And then, that could end up getting a flag put on my medical file 

sirenia_fragaria: the amount of hoops you have to jump through to get those is crazy

schrodingers-illness: yeah 🫤 and tbh, two of them barely help. I don't really have good alternatives 

sirenia_fragaria: dang 😞 It'll still be awesome to see you when  you are able to come though 😁

schrodingers-illness: 🙌

schrodingers-illness: I still have no clue what I'm going to wear for Halloween

sirenia_fragaria: make it ✨extra sexy✨

schrodingers-illness: oh, don't you worry. I will 😈

You just have to figure out what that's going to look like. If there's anything behind Bulma's teasing about a "seat" waiting for you, then you need to look extra sexy. 

You tab over and your calendar catches your attention once again.

Shit. 

You need to tell your GP that you're sexually active, now, and that you need an STI test. 

It's going to be great telling your highly trusted doctor that you've had completely unprotected sex, and just trusted the guy about being clean. It's embarrassingly and uncharacteristically reckless of you. 

You put your head in your hands and sigh. 

When that test comes up negative, you just know you're going to end up in bed with that asshole again. 

Vegeta grits his teeth at the sight out on the patio. It's happening again. Bulma is sitting too close to Raditz, and she's playing with his hair and smiling and laughing with him. 

Vegeta is furious at the sight. He doesn't know why he is, though; Raditz is a whore and always has been. 

Bulma seems likewise shameless, though it shocks him that she would attempt to steal a partner from her friend. 

That is, unless the three of you are a thing. 

Vegeta leans over the counter and puts his head in his hands. The mental image of the three of you doing god-knows-what together is not something he needs. 

When are you coming back, anyway? Are you already pregnant? Raditz is so damn mopey, lately, and Vegeta can't smell a hint of you anywhere. Raditz probably isn't sneaking away to hook up. 

In that case, you're probably not pregnant. If the kid from the future is out of Raditz and Bulma, of all people, Vegeta thinks he might actually lose his shit. 

He doesn't know why, other than the fact that it's a terrible thing to do to one's host. 

Vegeta scarfs down half a sleeve of crackers, a handful of cheese, and half a sausage before washing it down with an entire bottle of water. 

There. Carbohydrates, protein, and fat. He is fueled enough for the time being. It'll keep Bulma off of his case, if she can stop groping Raditz long enough to notice.

Scowling, he begins to refill his water bottle and glances back out to the patio. 

Bulma laughs and slaps Raditz' arm, before leaning over to give him a quick hug. 

"They're just friends," Nappa says. 

Vegeta snaps his attention toward his nosy underling. 

"What makes you think I care?" He grumbles. 

Nappa puts his hands up in defense. "Ah, it's just how you've been about manners with her and her parents. They're like siblings, if anything."

Vegeta rolls his eyes. 

"Raditz is a rampant slut," he says. "You know he'll go for it the second he gets a chance, if he hasn't already."

Nappa shrugs. "Just give 'em a sniff, if you don't believe me. She's just friendly. She treats Yamcha the same, you know."

Vegeta turns the water off, removes his bottle, and caps it. Yamcha is the woman's ex lover; Nappa is making a poor comparison, if he thinks nothing is going on with Raditz and Bulma. 

"Let's go," Vegeta grumbles. "We're here to train, not to gossip."

He turns and makes his way out of the kitchen. 

Vegeta doesn't miss the smirk on Nappa's face.

The old man knows something that he doesn't. 

Vegeta will find out. And, if someone is crossing him, they will pay. 

Goku feels bad. Real bad. He can't understand what Dad said to Raditz at all. He does, however, understand that must have been really bad.

The sight of Raditz' expression is burned deeply into Goku's memory: a pain and hurt of an extremely deep level— the way Raditz curled in on himself and looked at Dad like Dad had betrayed him, his eyes filled with tears.

Raditz looks like Mom. That just adds to it. And, the way Mom talks about Raditz makes Goku think that maybe, there is some good in him. 

If words alone could kill, Raditz would be dead. 

It hurts Goku to think about it. But, he has to get to the bottom of it. Goku isn't the type to just leave something like that be. If there's something wrong or unfair going on, he's gotta do something. 

So, he finds a quiet moment where he can get the cordless phone outside and calls Bulma. 

It rings several times, before someone picks up the other end. 

"Hey," Bulma grumbles. 

Goku takes a deep breath. If there's one thing that's good about their landline, it's that whoever they're calling doesn't know which person is making the call. He thinks that Bulma might ignore his call, otherwise.

"Hiya Bulma," he says. "I um— I wanted to talk about what happened the other day."

"Oh, you do?!" She yells. "We've only been left in the dark about this for a week or so!"

Her shouting makes him yank the phone away from his ear and turn the volume down. 

Goku isn't sure how long ago they had that confrontation. Bulma is just about as bad with judging time. 

But, it doesn't surprise him that it has been more than a week. He's not good at this stuff. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not good at this stuff. That's not the way I wanted you to meet my Dad. I kinda instant transmissioned without taking the time to sense who was around. He's not a bad guy, though."

As soon as those words leave his mouth, he wants to take them back. Though it's true that Dad isn't a bad guy, he's also not a great guy. He's got a lot of problems, and he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings. 

"Your father is not welcome at my house," Bulma says. "What he said absolutely destroyed Raditz. It would have been better if he just beat him to near-death."

Goku swallows the lump in his throat.

"I didn't know he was gonna go off like that," he says. "Honest. And I don't know what he even said so that's kinda why I'm calling because it's bothering me real bad."

The angry sigh coming through the phone isn't surprising at all to him. He still flinches out of reflex; Bulma slaps or throws things right after she makes that noise. 

There's a loud thump on the other end and he's pretty sure it's the sound of her fist slamming into her desk.

"It was the most horrible thing imaginable!" Bulma screams. "I can't believe the gall of that man to come into my home and treat my friend like that!"

Okay; Bulma and Raditz are friends, now. That's fine and it makes sense. She's tough and knows what she's dealing with. 

Goku bites his lip and stares out at the forest beyond the house. He's not sure how long he has until Dad comes back with Gohan. He has to get to the bottom of this.

"I can't fix it if I don't know what he said," Goku says.

This time, there's a bunch of banging around on the other end of the phone. 

"There's no fixing this! He was sobbing in my arms. There's no spark in his eyes anymore. He looks dead. I'm— I'm worried— we're all worried he might—" 

Bulma chokes back a sob and starts sniffling, and Goku is more confused than ever. 

Raditz might do what? Is he going to hurt someone again? Is he going to try to steal the spaceship and leave?

"Please, help me understand," he says, hoping that he sounds as honest as he feels.

"I don't think you could ever understand," she snaps. "You're perfect! You get special favors from deities and you have a magical cloud that says you're just so fucking perfect."

Goku fights the urge to sigh. Bulma usually gossips about people with little pushing. This is as hard as trying to scrub a glass pan without breaking it.

"I might not understand," he admits. "I still want to try. Seriously. And, I'm older than my Dad by uh—Gohan says I'm six years older than Dad. I'm thirty-one and Dad is twenty-five. I'm not a smart person or nothin, but I feel like people's brains change a lot over six years. I ain't sayin' I'm in charge of my Dad, but I might know some stuff he doesn't."

Bulma sniffles and sighs. "That's true, yeah. But, this isn't fixable. Your dad told Raditz that he was a mistake. Unwanted. Never wanted, in fact. He said he knows exactly what Raditz did to you and Gohan, and that Raditz is not his son and is dead to him. He said they should have aborted him."

Goku swallows the sudden lump in his throat. 

"Aborted?" he asks.

"That's to stop a pregnancy to make a baby not be born."

A chill runs down his spine and he clamps his hand over his mouth. 

Goku believes that everything can be fixed, and that goodness can always overcome the darkness if you try hard enough and believe in it.

This makes him question his whole way of viewing life. 

"That's the meanest thing I've ever heard someone tell somebody," he admits.

Goku knows that Dad has a bit of a temper, and working for Frieza has warped how he thinks. 

His hands tremble and he looks down to see that his aura is golden. He breathes deeply to try to relax, and only half-succeeds. 

At least, he's out of Super Saiyan. 

If Mom finds out what Dad said, she'll probably transform. Goku wants to spare her from that pain. 

"It is," Bulma says. "And that's why it's not fixable. There's no coming back from that. It's worse than wishing for someone to die."

Goku takes a deep breath. Being honest is important for this, even if he's scared of Bulma's anger. 

"I'm upset about this," he admits. "I'm so upset that I transformed, and I'm having trouble keeping my power level down. I didn't want to have a relationship with Raditz because I feel like there's no way I could ever trust him."

The angry huff on the other line lets him know that Bulma is scowling. 

"Yet you're fine with Vegeta," she says. 

Goku gives an awkward laugh. 

"I feel like you've got him handled," he says. 

"Really?" She drawls. "How do I have him more handled than Raditz?"

Seconds tick by as Goku finds himself unable to come up with an answer. He's sure that Bulma has Vegeta under her spell, like she does with a lot of men. 

"The silence tells me everything," Bulma says. "They're in the same situation. And, it's weird to me that you've not even considered Nappa, and he's the one who's killed the most of us."

Goku still can't come up with a good answer. Eventually, he sighs. 

"You're right," he admits. "I think it's because Raditz was the first guy to defeat me to a completely helpless amount. Having to die to stop him is about as helpless as you can get."

"Vegeta broke basically every bone in your body," Bulma counters. 

Goku smiles, and he knows it's not normal to look back on that event with fondness. Maybe, it's a Saiyan thing. He's not sure. 

"He did," Goku says. "But, Raditz defeated me in one punch and stole Gohan. Never before, and never since, has anyone done something like that to me."

Goku is wary. He's intimidated. It's irrational, given how much stronger he is than Raditz. Still, there's the nagging thought in the back of his mind that it might happen again, and he needs to keep Raditz far away from his family. 

"Listen," Bulma sighs. "I'm not going to try to talk you into liking him, when you don't want to. The issue I have is with your Dad."

Goku nods. 

"I have an issue with him, too, now," he admits. "I'm going to talk to him."

"He's not allowed to come back here," Bulma says. "I mean it. And I'm honestly mad at you, too, right now."

"That's fair."

While Goku believes in talking things out or letting them go, Bulma does silent treatment when she gets mad, sometimes. He's lucky that she's even talking to him on the phone. 

"That said," she continues, "I am making some glasses that will block the light from the full moon so that Nappa and Raditz won't transform. I'll make some for your parents, out of courtesy for Chi-Chi."

His jaw drops. 

"That's awesome, Bulma! Thanks a bunch!"

Dad and Gohan walk into the clearing just as his mood changes. 

Thank goodness he's not still super upset. 

"Don't think that I'm doing them for you guys," she grumbles. "Don't even get me started on how hurt Raditz is that his Mama doesn't even want him."

Goku's eyes widen in shock. That isn't true at all. 

Dad is here, though, and Goku feels like he can't ask questions about that. 

"I understand," he lies. "Will you let Chi-Chi know when they're done?"

Goku doesn't answer the phone. That's Chi-Chi's thing. 

"Yes," Bulma says. "In fact, she or Gohan are the only two people I'd be fine with coming to pick them up."

He nods, then quickly remembers he's on the phone. 

"Yeah, that's fine," he says. "And, thanks for the chat."

"Sure. Talk to you later, next time you need something from me."

Goku cringes. "Okay, bye!"

He hangs up the phone before he says something stupid. Exhaling, he waves at Dad before darting back into the house to put the phone back in the charger.

Goku takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. This information is going to rattle around in his brain until he talks to Dad about it. He's sure that Dad isn't going to like what he says about it, but Goku has to say something. 

He opens his eyes, steps outside, and walks up to Dad.

"Hey," he says. "Can we go for a walk? I wanted to talk about something."

Dad immediately looks wary, and Goku is pretty sure he knows what this is about. He's not good at feelings but he is extremely good at figuring people out. 

Everyone except Raditz, it seems. 

It's weird to Goku that Raditz was so different when he landed and took Gohan. It's like he's a completely different person, now. 

Something isn't adding up. 

He walks with Dad toward the forest, and, after they get a little ways away from the house, Dad gives him an expectant look.

Right. He needs to do this.

"Dad, I know what you said to Raditz," he says. "That was too much."

Dad looks confused for a second, but he quickly frowns. 

"I disowned him, just like you did," he says.

Goku shakes his head. "It's not the same."

"Yes, it is."

"It's not," he insists. "There's a difference between deciding you don't want to contact someone, versus being mean to them to do the most damage you can to their feelings."

Dad closes his eyes and sighs. 

"Maybe," Dad says. "But there is no way to take anything back once you've said it."

After a long pause, Dad sighs again. 

"So, your friend told you everything?" He asks. 

Goku purses his lips. "She told me the summary of it: you never wanted him and wished he was never born. Bulma says he looks like he's died inside."

Dad shakes his head and looks up at the tree line. 

"It's probably the drugs," he says. 

Goku's eyes widen in shock. "The what?"

"Your friend didn't tell you that?" Dad asks. 

Goku shakes his head. This is the first time he's heard anything about drugs. 

"His excuse for doing what he did to you was that he was on drugs," Dad says.

Goku feels all of the fight leave him. 

"Dad," he says, "people who do drugs need help, not scolding."

That's what Roshi has told him, at least. He remembers very clearly the time they gave some of their money to a homeless man when he was a child. The guy was acting funny, but Roshi insisted that they still give him money for food. Roshi said the guy seemed like he had done some drugs. Even people who do drugs need people to be nice to them and get them some food if they need it. 

Goku hasn't forgotten that lesson. 

"I jumped on that one too fast," Dad admits. "Lots of soldiers in the PTO drank or did drugs to cope with doing bad things."

"Did you?" Goku asks. 

Dad gives him a sad smile. 

"Your mother is my drug," he says.

Goku knows this isn't easy; Dad doesn't talk about his feelings, much. 

Goku suspects that Dad bottling up his negative feelings about Raditz is what made him explode. Nobody can shake a soda and try to open it all the way without expecting it to go everywhere. 

And, just like that soda spraying everywhere, Dad's bad feelings have gotten a lot of people messy. 

"I don't know why he reacted the way he did," Dad says. "Any Saiyan would come out swinging at all those insults to their honor."

Goku shakes his head. 

"Any Saiyan but Mom," he says. 

Dad looks down at the ground. "Yeah."

So, is Raditz like Mom? That doesn't make too much sense, to Goku. But the guy he saw in Bulma's lab was not the same guy that landed on the beach, took him out in one punch, and stole Gohan, while laughing the whole time. 

"We seem to be a pretty impulsive family," Goku chuckles. "I think Gohan's the only one who thinks things through, and I have no clue who he got that from. It sure isn't me or Chi-Chi."

Dad chuckles, too. 

"That kid is very wise," he says. "Very old, for his age. More mature than either you or I, it seems."

Goku smiles at the thought of Gohan being so wise, but he also feels sad. Gohan hasn't been able to be a kid, really— not since Raditz landed on Earth. 

If he really thinks about it, though, Gohan seems willing to forgive Raditz for what he did. Goku assumes that it's his young innocence that makes him willing to do that. 

But, what if it's Gohan's old wisdom, instead? 

Goku realizes he's the eldest, out of his family. He's older than both of his parents, and a tiny bit older than Raditz. 

Dang it. Fixing this is probably on him, isn't it?

The question is, though, if there's anything left to fix.

Bulma is panicking. She can't get you to come earlier, and Raditz looks like he's given up on life. He's clearly just going through the motions. 

Everyone is watching him. She has Krillin and Yamcha over for extra help. It's also nice to have the extra company for dinner. 

Bulma picks at her food and frowns. Goku's phone call earlier has had her on the edge of a rage meltdown for several hours. She calms down after a little while, but every time she hears one of Raditz' soft, almost childlike replies to questions, it brings swiftly brings her back to the brink. 

An uncomfortable silence that Mom can't even break falls over the dinner table. 

Bulma's rage boils up inside her once again as she looks over at Raditz. He stares down at his plate and picks at his food, a sign that he's having a worse day than usual. 

Across the table, Vegeta stares at him with a scowl. 

"What is your problem?" Vegeta grumbles. "You're constantly moping and getting more attention than you deserve."

Raditz shrinks in on himself. 

Bulma slams her fist down onto the table and jabs an accusatory finger at Vegeta. 

"The nerve of you!" She screams. "He's clearly going through something terrible, and you haven't even taken the time to check on him! For your information, asshole, his parents are alive, and they disowned him for what he did to Goku!"

 Vegeta rolls his eyes, dabs at his mouth with a napkin, and gives Raditz a bored look.

"You've lived most of your life without your father," he says. "You do not need him, nor his stupid, low-class opinions. Besides; you're leagues stronger than him, so the opinion of a weakling doesn't matter. And, yes, despite the teasing, you were, in fact, born Mid-Class. In relative terms, that's not too bad." 

Raditz shrinks down further in his seat. "But—"

Vegeta stands up in a flurry of rage and points toward the patio doors.

"The energy I sense over to the east is him?" He asks.

Raditz nods quietly, and Vegeta looks even more pissed off.

"He is inferior to you in every way!" Vegeta shouts. "You are stronger, have more combat experience, and have the power level of an Elite! Fight him next time and show him his place! You're stronger than Burter, now. Fucking act like it!"

Nappa gapes. "Burter?" 
 
Vegeta shrugs. "Well, you're as strong as Ginyu, so it's not that impressive." 
 
Raditz still looks depressed. Bulma isn't sure of when she should step in, but she's about ready to. This isn't helping, but really, nothing helps.

Vegeta crosses his arms and sneers. 

"As the sovereign of the Saiyan people, I, Prince Vegeta IV, hereby promote you, Raditz, son of Nappa, to the rank of Elite. You fucking idiot."

Raditz finally manages to look up at Vegeta. 

"Thank you," he murmurs. "Am I really that strong?"

Vegeta huffs and sits back down to resume eating.

"You need to learn to sense energy," he grumbles.

Krillin nods. "We've been working on that off and on since um— uh, a few weeks I guess."

Vegeta pauses in his eating and sneers.

"He should know it, by now," he said. "I will teach him if you don't get it together soon."

Raditz shrinks in his seat once again. He clearly doesn't want Vegeta to teach him anything. 

Vegeta then turns to Nappa with narrowed eyes.

"You need to learn how to sense energy, too," he says. "While it will be unnecessary for any of you to fight the cyborgs, it will still be a good skill to learn. We start tonight."

Nappa bows his head. "Yes, my Prince."

A different kind of awkward silence falls over the dinner table once again. Bulma suspects that even Vegeta is confused at his own outburst. 

She knows what it is, though, and she can't resist needling him a little. 

"Yanno, Vegeta," Bulma says, "you can be really nice, when you want to."

Vegeta stops eating and stares at her with a fascinatingly terrified rage. 

"I am not 'nice'," he huffs. "Don't you ever call me something so horrible again."

Bulma fights to hold back her laughter and only half-succeeds. 

Vegeta takes one last bite of his meal, puts his napkin down, and stands. 

"I don't have time to waste on idle chatter," he says. "Hurry up, Nappa; we're getting back to training."

Without a word, he turns and starts to leave the room. 

"Bye, Mr. Nice Guy!" Bulma calls. 

The only indication that he hears her is a slight filter to his steps. 

Vegeta is an utter asshole, but every so often, he has a moment of back-handed niceness that makes Bulma want to believe. 

She wants to believe there's a good person in there. 

Nappa sighs, excuses himself, and follows after Vegeta. The silence afterward is more pleasant than before. Still, Bulma chooses to break it. She needs to confirm something. 

"So, my friend is going to be here for Halloween," she says.

Mom is the first to react. "Oh, that's wonderful, dear! She is always welcome, here."

Raditz visibly deflates and looks even sadder than before. 

Hm. Interesting. 

"We are going to take full advantage of the holiday's dress code," Bulma chuckles. "Not that either one of us needs a reason to wear barely any clothes, but a costume makes it a lot easier."

She's not sure how you dress all the time, but, the sentiment still stands, in her opinion.

"Do you have a costume idea, yet, dear?" Mom asks. 

Bulma shrugs. "I was thinking a mermaid. It's probably easy and very obvious, but I'm gonna go all out with it."

"You girls are going to look so gorgeous," she giggles. "Any fella would be lucky to catch either of your attention."

Bulma looks over to see Raditz bite his lip and squirm in his seat, his cheeks flushed pink. 

Oh, he's definitely thinking about you in some capacity. 

Nappa is onto something. He says that Raditz has feelings for you, and something has happened. 

Bulma is going to get to the bottom of this, somehow. 

She somehow manages to stay quiet about it during dinner, and even afterward when she helps with cleaning up. When Krillin pulls her aside near the elevators, though, she's immediately on guard. 

They both step into the elevator to head to the ground floor. As soon as the doors close, Krillin takes the opportunity to speak.

"So, your friend is coming," he says. 

Bulma gives him a suspicious look. "What of it?"

If their texting back and forth is turning into a crush, she's going to hate that. You and Krillin are both her friends, but Raditz is several shades of "not okay". 

If you reject Raditz, this might tip him off the deep end. She will come up with a girls' weekend away, if she has to. Bulma will even cancel, if necessary, in order to protect Raditz. 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Krillin asks. 

Bulma crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at him. 

"No," she says. "I can't read minds."

Krillin winces and holds his hands up in defense.

"H—hey I'm on your side, here," he says. "At least, I think I am. You uh— you think she might still have a thing for Raditz?"

Bulma clenches her jaw. 

"If you want to date her," she hisses, "then she will absolutely not be coming here. Then, I will have to put Yamcha and my parents on suicide watch, because I truly think Raditz is one thing away from losing it."

The devastated look on Krillin's face only solidifies her decision. 

"I'm worried about him, too," Krillin says. "Yamcha said there was something going on between them, and Raditz does get twitchy whenever I'm texting your friend. I make sure to repeat that we're just friends, but, I don't think he buys it."

Bulma processes what he's saying and sighs in relief. 

They are on the same team, for this one. Good. 

"So you do want them to get together?" She asks. 

Krillin shrugs. "I think it's worth them exploring it, if there's attraction. They're both my friends, but yeah, I feel protective of Raditz right now, too. In a weird way, even Vegeta seems protective of him."

Bulma snickers. 

"Vegeta is being Vegeta about it, though," she says. "I feel like he really tried, tonight."

"Yeah," Krillin says. "Although I don't think yelling at Raditz is the way to get through to him."

Bulma nods. "Yeah, it's not. He needs all the love he can get right now. God, he was sobbing in my arms after what his Father said."

"What did he say?"

The elevator stops, and she hits the button to keep the doors closed. This is the most private place they're going to be, for this. 

Bulma steels herself. She's told her parents about this, and Goku. If she can do this without screaming or crying, she's going to be proud of herself. 

"He said that Raditz was an accident," she recalls. "He wasn't wanted. He should have been aborted. I understand disowning him over what happened, but that's too fucking far!"

Her chin quivers and she can't quite swallow the lump in her throat. Through her blurry vision, she can make out Krillin's shocked expression. 

And then, he's furious. 

"What the fuck?" He hisses. 

"That's what I said, too!" Bulma shouts. 

She takes a moment to collect herself. They can't risk being overheard like this, even if the elevator feels private. 

It's nice to hear that Krillin is angry enough to swear like that. It takes a lot for him to use a word that strong.

"That's why I've been so close with him," she says. "He needs to feel wanted."

Krillin nods in agreement.

"I think learning to sense energy might help," he says. "He might realize that his strength is much greater than he thinks."

"Maybe," Bulma says. 

She doesn't know anything about this energy sensing stuff, but what she does know is that it's a fundamental thing for fighters to learn. 

Krillin sighs. "I think we need to have a guy talk. We can't put all of this on our friend."

"It doesn't sound like they've been talking," Bulma admits. "He has a phone, so I don't understand why they don't talk. That sounds nuts, to me."

She lets go of the button and reaches toward the button to open the doors. 

"Bulma," Krillin says, "He's never dated before. He has no clue what he's doing."

Bulma slams her hand onto the button to keep the doors closed. 

"He what?" She gasps. 

Krillin withers. "H—he's never dated. Honest. We all talked about dating and stuff weeks ago. That was when the weirdness started with him with me texting our friend."

Bulma huffs. 

"We're going to fix this," she says. "You do your guy talk or whatever, and I'll work on the other part."

Krillin sighs in relief, and Bulma opens the doors. They step out and go their separate ways. 

Bulma will fix this. She's a genius, after all. 

Chapter Text

Krillin stares at the sunrise over West City and smiles. The millions of energies throughout the city feel like the soft, cheery glow of several strings of Christmas lights in the dark. 

He probably doesn't know any of them, but he cares about each one. Like the string of lights, the burning out of just one of those individual lights can disrupt the flow of energy throughout the inter-dependent string. Krillin cares about the safety of every single light he senses around him.

That's why he trains. He wants to help people, the same way so many people have helped him before.

There's a person next to him, however, who needs his help more than anyone, right now. Raditz' light grows stronger, yet, at the same time, has lost a lot of its luster.

Krillin has to say something. 

"Raditz," he says, "I don't know if I've said this in explicit terms, but, what your father did is fucked up."

The sudden expletive gets Raditz' attention. He looks over at Krillin, and Krillin is hit with the full force of his broken heart from the look on his face. 

On Raditz' other side, Yamcha sits. He nods vigorously in agreement.

"That's the only way I can think to say it," Krillin says. "It's fucked up. I hate it with all of my heart. And, it's fucked up that my best friend didn't try to step in. I'm deeply disappointed in him, for that."

Raditz slumps in his seat. "I deserved it."

Krillin shakes his head and frowns. 

"Not remotely to the extent it was given to you," he says. "I'm not going to explain away Goku's actions. He's the one who owes you an explanation."

Goku's social ineptitude has really screwed him over, in this situation. Krillin is sure Raditz has heard a few times that Goku is not great with social situations. 

What disappoints Krillin is that Goku hasn't reached out to try to repair the situation in any way. He's supposed to be the guy who can't let things be, when there's a problem. Goku is leaving this be for way too long.

"Anyway," Krillin says, "I grew up with your brother, and though I do consider him my best friend, I was jealous of him for the longest time. He has everything: he's a fighting prodigy, doesn't get scared, has a beautiful wife and a great kid. Almost everyone likes him the second they meet him. He gets to train all day for fun and has an easy, carefree life out in the country."

Raditz stares at him expectantly. 

"I went to talk therapy, a few years ago," Krillin says. "I was depressed, and I felt like I wasn't good enough at anything. Goku's greatness was like a shadow, at times, and that did contribute some to how I was feeling. I hid how depressed I was, but, at the same time, I wished that someone would notice and say something."

Krillin doesn't miss the brief flicker of pain on Yamcha's face. He probably feels guilty for not noticing that Krillin was struggling. It's probably a good idea to talk about it, later. 

Right now, though, this is about helping his friend, Raditz. 

"Anyway, my point is this," Krillin says. "I notice your hurt, and I'm saying something because I care. I know it might be easier to talk to Bulma about it, because I know how guys can be with each other. But, I'm here for you. I'm here to talk about it, and I mean right now, if you want to."

Raditz looks like he's choking back tears, and turns away. 

"I agree with him," Yamcha says. "And I'm here to listen, too. You're a great guy and you're putting in the work to be an even better guy."

Krillin nods. "Exactly that. When this goes down with the cyborgs, I trust you with my life."

"Me too," Yamcha says.

Raditz clears his throat. 

"I'd die for you guys," he says. "Seriously."

Krillin swallows the lump in his throat. 

"I know," he says. "But, will you live for us?"

Raditz shrinks in his seat and stares down at the ground. 

After a long silence, Yamcha sniffles. "I really want you around, and I mean it."

"I do, too," Krillin says. 

He dabs at the tears blurring his vision to see Raditz frozen like a statue. The only indication that Krillin has that he's listening are the tears running down his cheeks, and the fur of his tail standing on end.

They're all tearing up, to be honest. Krillin is okay with crying, but he knows it's a big deal for Yamcha and Raditz to show their feelings so openly. 

Their lives as orphans without a strong support system have meant that they have had to put on a brave face, at all times. 

Krillin is lucky he had the some of the temple, and later, Master Roshi, for support. 

Nappa tries. He's trying real hard, right now, even. But, it probably feels different, coming from friends.

This is what love between friends feels like. Krillin wants Raditz to experience it fully, without fear. 

He realizes, though, that it's going to take a while; Raditz' posture reminds him of a frightened baby rabbit, holding completely still to try to avoid being noticed. 

Krillin can't begin to imagine all the horrible things that Raditz has gone through.

While on Namek, Krillin repeatedly underestimated Vegeta's ability to get stronger and sense energy. He's not going to make that mistake twice; if Goku and Vegeta can defy logic and become insanely strong, then Raditz can, as well. 

Raditz also has goodness in him. 

This talk is good, as far as he can tell. Still, he thinks they can do even more for their new friend. 

Krillin crosses his arms and nods to himself.

"Right, so I have an idea," he says. 

Raditz turns his weary gaze to him.

"No, this is a good thing," Krillin insists. "I'm done with the realtalk, for now."

Mostly, that is. Maybe, Krillin can hide the realtalk in a metaphorical piece of cheese. In this case, fighting is going to be the cheese he uses to hide the truth that Raditz doesn't want to swallow. 

He hasn't told Yamcha about this plan, but he's sure he'll go along with it. 

"Yamcha," he says, "how about we ask Kami if we can use that Pendulum Room again? There's a point in time on Namek that I think we should go to."

Yamcha blinks in surprise. "Yeah, but it's not a real time machine."

"Of course not," Krillin says. "I'm thinking we should use it as a hands-on way Raditz can learn about sensing energy, as well as his own."

"Dude, that's a great idea!" Yamcha laughs. 

Raditz gives them a wary look, and Krillin wonders how many people have screwed this guy over, for him to mistrust his own friends like this. 

Well, one thing at a time, he supposes. 

They can discuss it over breakfast. While Raditz is cautious, he's also a Saiyan: 

He can't turn down a good fight. 

Earth's guardian is a gentle, soft-spoken, elderly Namekian. Given Raditz' experience on this planet, he finds it fitting. 

Even though Krillin has explained the concept of the Pendulum Room to Raditz, it still confuses him. He doesn't want to admit that, however; the last thing he wants is to look like more of an idiot than he already does, with his difficulty in sensing energy. 

Kami and his attendant, Mr. Popo, escort them through the labyrinth of halls inside the lookout. There are no decorations that stand out, nor any differences in the architecture to give him an idea of what they may or may not have passed already. 

And Raditz does feel like they've gone in circles. He's not completely sure, though; his sense of smell is somehow dampened, here. 

It's disorienting. All the while, Krillin and Yamcha make small talk with Kami. Raditz stays a few steps behind them and stays out of the way, something he's well-practiced in doing. 

"It'll get better."

Raditz startles at the sound of Mr. Popo's voice next to him. 

"I'm certain of it," Mr. Popo continues. "It'll get better."

Raditz furrows his brow. Can this guy tell the future? 

"I can't tell the future," Mr. Popo clarifies. "I'm just a very good guesser."

Shit. Can he read minds, though?

Raditz tries to keep himself from thinking about anything inappropriate, but his mind quickly flashes through memories of your time together.

"I can't read minds," Mr. Popo adds. "I've just picked up a few things over the past several thousand years. Whatever lurid secrets you're thinking about right now are yours to keep."

Raditz nods slowly. The guy says he can't read minds, but he sure sounds like he can. 

Instead of saying anything, Raditz looks down at the floor and keeps walking. 

"You look sad," Mr. Popo says. "You're definitely not the guy you were when you landed here a few years ago. I'd expect you to joke around, or, at least be a little chatty. Even as a changed man, silence isn't your thing. I know you're not okay."

Raditz sighs and looks up from the floor. Kami, Krillin, and Yamcha have stopped outside a brown, wooden door that looks like every other door in this place. 

"I don't know what to do," Raditz admits. 

He doesn't know what to do with anything in his life. 

Mr. Popo gestures in front of them. 

"Keep walking forward," he says. "You're not going to know what's past that closed door if you don't keep going."

Raditz sighs in frustration. "I meant that, in general—"

He stops himself as he thinks about what Mr. Popo might actually mean. He's really fucking dumb, for not catching the double meaning behind his words. 

"There you go," Mr. Popo says. "You get it. You're not dumb; don't listen to the past voices telling you that you're stupid and worthless. They're lying to you."

Fucking hell, the guy really can read minds, can't he?

Mr. Popo motions toward the door. "I promise that I can't read minds. For what it's worth, by the way, I think you're a good match, for her. Just keep working on yourself."

Raditz swallows. The guy absolutely can read minds, and nothing will convince him otherwise. 

Kami turns back with a smile. 

"Mr. Popo, are you ready to assist?" He asks. 

Returning his smile, Mr. Popo stops in front of the door. 

"I am." he says. "When and where do we want to go?"

Krillin nods. "Okay, so, there was a time when we were on Namek just a few minutes before Goku showed up. It was me, Gohan, and Vegeta versus the bad guys. I think we should go to that time."

Mr. Popo opens the door, and ushers them inside. 

Raditz stops at the threshold and peers into what looks like an endless black void filled with clock faces. Somewhat closer to the door and suspended in the air is a gigantic rock with a clock face. A pendulum swings below it, with another clock face acting as the weight. 

There are no smells in this room. There's no perceivable air current, nor is there any sound from the surrounding clocks. 

Raditz shudders as he takes a step into the room, and the door closes behind him. What small comfort he takes from the presence of others quickly disappears as he realizes that nobody's footsteps make a sound in this place. 

He hates it, here. Raditz has done enough hallucinogens to have experienced good trips, bad trips, and a whole array in between. 

This isn't like that. This feels like an anti-trip, if anything. 

Mr. Popo approaches a nearby clock face, touches it, and does something with it as it begins to glow. 

"I see the point in time Krillin is referencing," he says. "Raditz is the only one who can go, however. I can alter it a little, but not to the extent where you can join him."

Krillin and Yamcha both visibly deflate. 

"Why not?" Yamcha asks. "We've done all our training together, so far."

"To have a duplicate show up would shatter the illusion," Kami says. "Krillin is visibly present in the illusion, and Yamcha's whereabouts are known."

Raditz smirks and shrugs, even as terror grips him. 

"No problem," he says.

He's always been a good liar. 

If this is a point in time where Vegeta had to team up with Krillin and Gohan, he knows that it's some serious trouble. Vegeta teams up only out of desperation, and Raditz has yet to see him become so desperate. 

"You'll be fine," Yamcha says. "Your body will be completely unharmed."

Mr. Popo approaches the pendulum and makes a motion with his hands. A circle of glowing runes etches itself into the void beneath the pendulum, giving the illusion of a floor. 

The effect reminds Raditz of molten hot metal in the dark, something he's seen several times while snuffing entire civilizations out of existence. 

Raditz doesn't feel like he's going to be fine, but he's got to at least pretend like he's tough. 

"Now I'm gonna warn you," Krillin says. "It feels completely real. It's not, though."

Raditz nods. "So, I can tell Vegeta how I really feel?" 

"Yeah," Yamcha chuckles. "You could tell him to shove it, if you felt like it. The beatdown he's gonna give you for that will feel real, though."

Raditz swallows the lump of nervousness in his throat. 

"I'll weigh my options," he says. 

As Raditz makes his way over to the eerie runes, Mr. Popo shakes his head. 

"You should consider acting as a side-gig," he says. 

Yeah, the guy can absolutely read minds. 

"Once you step into the center of the portal, I will send your consciousness back in time," Mr. Popo says. 

Raditz nods. Sucking in a breath, he takes his first step onto the runes and finds himself relieved when it doesn't feel any different. He braces himself as he steps into the center of the portal. 

"You've got this!" Yamcha cheers. 

Krillin grins. "We'll see you when you get back! You'll do great.

"Alright," Mr. Popo says. "I'll send you now. Remember to stretch out your senses and really try to feel the power of the other people in the illusion."

Raditz nods. As the portal lights up, he takes one last glance to the others present. 

They're all genuinely smiling at him, and it feels almost as uncomfortable as the creepy magic room. 

A bright flash of light envelops Raditz, and he slams his eyes shut. 

The air around him is mild and humid, and a weak breeze stirs around him. His next breath brings the scent of damp earth and lush plants, much like the inside of Mrs. Briefs' gigantic greenhouse. 

It reminds him of that ill-fated walk the two of you took in the garden. 

Opening his eyes is jarring, albeit welcome. Namek smells like a greenhouse, but there isn't much about it that reminds him of Earth. 

The sky is blue, the grass is green, and it's—

Desolate, for a planet with so much water and grass. 

How in the hell is he going to find people, if he can't sense them?

A supersonic crack and several explosions off in the distance quickly answer his question. Raditz takes to the sky and flies toward the action. 

Several more explosions go off, sending dust and debris flying into the air. He's still too far away to see the combatants, but he's seen enough of Vegeta throughout the years to know that he's one of the people fighting. 

His attacks are bigger than ever before, but the speed at which he launches them hints at desperation. 

A massive attack carves a searing path across the landscape, before exploding on the horizon. Dust and debris billow out from the point of impact, sending a cloud high up into the atmosphere. 

Raditz stops and stares with wide eyes. Something about that attack feels like it's bigger than anything he's seen Vegeta use to precision blast a planet's core.

Without a scouter, Raditz can't put a number to what he's seeing. All he can tell is that it's a lot of energy.

Raditz has no business being here. Why does Krillin think this is a good idea? Raditz doesn't even know how to get back. Does he have to die, or something?

He runs a shaking hand through his hair and swears under his breath. Vegeta's got this handled; he's always got it handled.

Raditz is ready to lower himself to the ground to try to wait it out, when a crack followed by a boom startles him out of his thoughts. 

The fight continues, and this time, Raditz doesn't like what he's hearing; there's a whole lot of hits, and very few energy attacks. 

Vegeta's in danger. He doesn't know how he knows, but he just knows it. 

Who the fuck is he fighting, though?

Fuck. This is fucked. He's fucked.

Fuck it. 

Raditz takes off toward the action as fast as he can. They say he can't die from this, but this shit feels way too real. 

He drops and ducks behind a rock as soon as he gets close enough to make out who's fighting. The land around them is torn up and scarred. Off in the direction of the large blast from earlier, the sea steams and churns violently. 

Krillin and Gohan look okay; the kid is wearing Namekian clothes, but neither seem to have so much as a scrape.

Raditz gapes at Vegeta. He's never seen him look so awful, before. Vegeta's armor is cracked and crumbling, and his under-armor is shredded. He's covered in dirt and blood, and he pants with effort as he tries to stay up. 

Seeing his slight frame here reminds Raditz of how much he's bulked up since living on Earth. Resentment boils up within him. They scraped by for years. 

Vegeta has gone fucking crazy since Kakarot killed Frieza, but, really, he's got every reason to have lost it. 

From what Raditz knows, the worst is yet to come for Vegeta, on Namek. 

He scowls and looks over at Vegeta's opponent:

Recoome. 

Unreal. Vegeta has managed to do some damage to the guy, though it's mostly a few scrapes and bruises.

The air around Recoome crackles as he charges up an attack.

He's gonna kill Vegeta if Raditz doesn't do something. Raditz is a crybaby and a disaster, but Nappa taught him better than to not save his Prince. 

Fuck it. Nothing's real and nothing matters.

Raditz dashes in right as Recoome launches his attack. The energy seems to move in slow motion; Raditz effortlessly slaps the attack off into space. While he can't see a thing through the dust the attack kicks up, he hears a thud behind and in front of him. 

He knows he shouldn't look away from his enemy, but he has to check on Vegeta. Glancing back, Raditz sees Vegeta on the ground, safely away from the path the attack would have taken. On top of him, with his arm around his shoulders, is Gohan.

Kid's got guts. 

As the dust starts to settle, Vegeta berates Gohan for saving him, rather than finishing off Recoome. Vegeta is an enemy to Gohan, after all. 

Raditz can't agree with that idea, anymore. Then again, he views Krillin as an ally, and, by extension, Gohan as well. 

He hasn't seen the kid since getting revived, but Raditz has enough sense to not project his parents' shit onto him. 

With Vegeta safe, Raditz turns his attention back to the front. He watches as Krillin lands and drops into a fighting stance. His concentration quickly breaks, however, when he notices Raditz' presence. 

"W—what are you doing here?" Krillin asks. "We're working with Vegeta, so we're on your side, okay?" 

Raditz feels an unexpected pang of guilt. This is a far cry from the easy-going, supportive Krillin that he knows, and he only has himself to blame for the terrified reaction. 

He doesn't know what to say in reply. How big is his power level, if Krillin is so scared? 

"How did you get here?" Vegeta asks. "Your power level is— never mind. Maybe we can tip the scales in our favor."

Raditz watches Recoome stumble as he stands. 

"You didn't want me back," Raditz says. 

"I have to make sacrifices to defeat Frieza. I was right; he blew up our planet. It's not a conspiracy theory. Dodoria and Zarbon both confirmed it separately."

Raditz sighs. "I know."

Vegeta gives him an inscrutable look. 

"I didn't like it," he clarifies. "I would have brought you back if I could have revenge by other means. If you can get us out of this mess, I know where to get our wish."

Does he mean that, or is he scared of how powerful Raditz has become? After working for Frieza most of their lives, they are well-versed in lying out of self-preservation. 

He wants to look at Vegeta to try to figure out the truth, but he doesn't dare to take his attention away from the danger in front of him. 

Recoome turns to him with a bloody, gap-toothed grin. Between the blood pouring from his nose and mouth, and the growing welt on the top of his head, he's not in really good shape. 

An undetected brain bleed is a death sentence, and Recoome might have one, from Krillin's precise strike.

He's just gotta distract the guy long enough to keep him from becoming any wiser until it's too late.

"Damn," Raditz laughs. "I didn't know it was possible for your face to get even uglier."

Raditz' stomach clenches as soon as the words leave his mouth. He's such a dumbass, sometimes. 

Recoome turns and spits out blood and a few teeth. 

"We've all got our purposes in life," he says. "I'm one of the strongest warriors in the galaxy. You, on the other hand, are a pretty toy."

Raditz swallows the insulting sting to his pride. 

Recoome wipes his mouth, leans to the side, and grins when he sees Vegeta struggling to get to his feet.

"Aw, how cute!" He laughs. "Your boyfriend saved you, Vegeta!"

Vegeta sputters and tries to stand taller. "He's not my boyfriend! We grew up together."

"Then, what is he?" Recoome asks. 

Raditz opens his mouth to speak, but Burter cuts in.

"Like brothers?" He muses. 

Jeice snickers. "I don't know any brothers doing the nasty together like that."

"We did not!" Vegeta spits.

"Look," Jeice says, "everyone hears the screaming, mate. That and all the banging around and slapping sounds make it very obvious."

Vegeta's face goes bright red. 

"It's true," Burter adds. "Everyone knows you let your subordinate ram you like a pirate ship."

Raditz glances between everyone. Even though this whole experience is fake, he still doesn't know when to say anything, or if he even should.

"Krillin, what are they talking about?"

Gohan's voice slaps Raditz' mind back out of his internal debate.

"Something personal that we need to stay out of," Krillin replies. 

Recoome laughs again. "You know where babies come from, kiddo? Big guy here keeps doing that to Vegeta."

Burter and Jeice let out exasperated groans. 

"Come on, man," Burter says. "Captain wouldn't want us talking like that to a kid."

Jeice sighs. "He's right. That's not classy, mate."

Gohan looks between Raditz and Vegeta in confusion. 

"I don't think it's possible for my uncle to even try to get Vegeta pregnant," he says. 

Recoome sneers. "Your uncle? Hah! Your dear, sweet uncle is like the barracks exercise bike. Everyone's had a ride. He puts his giant monkey cock into Vegeta's tight little—"

Raditz charges in and punches Recoome in the face. The kid doesn't need to hear this shit. 

He's not real, though. None of this is real. But, it absolutely feels real. 

The mind-fuckery makes him miss an opportunity to follow up with another hit.

Recoome tumbles backward end over end, but manages to land on his feet, leaving deep tracks in the dirt as he pushes back against the force of Raditz' blow. 

"Ohoho!" Recoome laughs. "I get the rumors, now! I'm gonna hit you harder than anyone else has slammed you before, boy."

Raditz swallows his terror as best as he can and prepares himself as Recoome leaps forward. He's going to try to dodge what he can, and, thankfully, the first punch seems more like a warning.

Even in the best of times, Raditz really isn't all that brave. Unless he's aware of his odds, he plays it as safe as he can. Raditz isn't aware of his odds, without a scouter. 

He dodges a flurry of punches from Recoome and swallows. 

Relying on his scouter is a deadly mistake that he cannot afford to repeat; he's terrified of dying again, and all the pain that accompanies it. 

He's not like Vegeta. He's not really much of a Saiyan; whatever pride Raditz has scraped together over the past year or so has been blown away by your rejection, and then, by the rejection of his own parents. 

Raditz keeps dodging Recoome's attacks, and waits to get hit. Recoome is moving awfully damn slow; he's probably playing with him. 

Can't Recoome just get this over with and kill him, so Raditz can go back home?

Home.

The thought steals the breath from his lungs like a punch to the gut. 

"W—why isn't he fighting back?" Krillin asks.

Raditz doesn't have a home. His tail snakes between his legs to wrap around his thigh, just like a child.

Recoome snarls and throws another punch. "Once I'm done with you, I'll keep Vegeta company!"

"He's scared, Krillin," Gohan murmurs. "Look at his tail."

Raditz swallows and dodges a kick. He's terrified and they all know he's terrified. This is the goddamn Ginyu Force! Raditz is a nobody! 

Why is he here? He wants to go home!

"Goddammit, Raditz!" Vegeta shouts. "You're stronger than him! If you don't give a shit about yourself, then at least give a shit about something! Are you seriously going to hand me over to him?!"

His voice takes on a frantic pitch, and Raditz realizes with a start that Vegeta is terrified.

"Please!" Krillin yells. "Do something, or we're all gonna die!"

Raditz wants to go home, and he thinks of Capsule Corp right away, and everyone living and spending time there. 

Fuck. Raditz has to try. He can't stand that tone coming from Vegeta or Krillin. They're brothers to him more than anyone. 

Raditz finds an opening —surely a ruse— and puts a foolish amount of force into his punch. The crack of bone beneath his fist is shocking, as is the quick warmth, followed by cool air. 

He stares in shock to see his arm embedded in Recoome's torso up past the elbow, with his fist out the other side. 

He watches as the life starts to fade from Recoome's eyes, but the dual shrieks of Jeice and Burter take precedence over trying to make sense of what he's just done. 

Raditz decides to treat this like a purge where he's cleaning up nobodies. Ripping his fist out of Recoome's torso, he kicks him to the ground, stomps on his neck, and wastes no time launching himself toward the two remaining enemies. 

Burter, the "Fastest in the Galaxy" doesn't turn out to be the fastest. And Jeice, the —whatever he is— isn't clever enough to get out of the way when Raditz throws Burter at him. 

Raditz is too damn terrified of losing his nerve against these guys, who should, on all accounts, outclass him by far. He doesn't revel in the fight like a true Saiyan ought to. He doesn't gloat when they fail to land a hit on him. His tail doesn't move from its submissive, anxious position, even as he snaps Burter's spine, and decapitates Jeice. 

He feels it this time, though:

Raditz feels the life force leaving them, like smoke clearing from a room. 

He takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. He prepares to try to sense the others on the planet, but, as he opens his eyes once again, he finds himself back in the blackened void  of the Pendulum Room. 

Magic is real, and it's fucked up.

Raditz feels it, now. He feels the extent of his own power. He's stronger beyond his wildest dreams. 

There is no sharp swell of pride, however. Sensing the energy of the other fighters of this planet puts him close to the bottom, where he's always been. 

He belongs there, really. He has no right to be stronger than any of these people; he's certainly not better than them— not by a long shot.

And his tail is still wrapped around his thigh like a coward.

You stare at your screen and sigh as you zoom in on the photo Bulma has sent you. 

In it, Raditz lounges by the pool, with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. His hair is pulled up into a bun almost the same size as his head, and he's wearing those tiny black shorts you saw him in the night you gave him the cookie butter. 

God, he's sexy as hell. 

You stare at the photo with wide eyes and zoom in. You saw the hole for the navel piercing, so seeing him with one isn't too unexpected. The nipples, though, are shocking. 

How did he manage to do that? They're so sensitive!

You know that piercings are, more often than not, for aesthetic reasons. Sure, sometimes the intent is sexual, but—

Oh, you know this is probably not about aesthetic. 

You force yourself to look away, as your mind begins to come up with ideas of how to play with them. 

Your attempts to keep your mind out of the gutter abruptly stop when you notice that those shorts don't hide much. 

You try your best to not stare too long, but you soon find yourself ogling his dick and sighing in longing. He's flaccid, here, but it's ridiculously easy to change that. 

You entertain a brief fantasy of sneaking up to him the way he is in the photo, and waking him up by stroking him. 

Grumbing, you put your head in your hands. 

Why does this gorgeous, fantastic lover have to be such a bigot? There's still a tiny, desperate thought in the back of your mind that insists that he's a sweetheart who just needs a chance, but—

Things were starting to get a bit intense, by the end of the week you visited. You're stuck between knowing that there's not going to be any further involvement without strings attached, but, at the same time, knowing you can't start attaching yourself to the potential of someone, rather than who they are. 

Hell, anyone has the potential to not be a bigot, if they read a goddamn book. This guy has lived on Earth for over a year, but he somehow thought it was okay to call humans inferior. 

You close your eyes as hurt and resentment well up inside you. Irritated, you take a deep breath, open your eyes, and zoom out on the photo. 

You're about to close your tab, when a moment of weakness hits you once again. 

You zoom in on his sweet face and find yourself grateful that his eyes are closed. 

God help you if Bulma manages to somehow catch those sad puppy eyes he gives you. 

After staring for a while, you finally close the photo. If Raditz shows any interest in you again, you're not sure if you can resist him. 

You pull up your calendar and sigh as you realize that you have two weeks to try to steel your resolve. Not only that, but you're supposed to be ovulating when you visit.

You're tempted to cancel, but you're not a coward. 

You think about the Granola Butter in your pantry and sigh. You'll bring some, and if Raditz is truly actually sorry,  you will share it.

You are unlikely to share other things, however. 

Maybe, the Granola Butter isn't a good idea. He might get the wrong impression.

Stupidly, you open the photo again and take a long look at Raditz. 

You're beginning to wonder if Bulma might be up to something.

Chapter Text

Today isn't going as planned. 

You arrive at Capsule Corp in the early evening, right as your mid-day meds start to wear off. You're exhausted and sore all over, just from sitting in your car for several hours. 

Bulma has offered to pick you up and take you to Capsule Corp, but the result is the same: you're going to sit for several hours, whether you drive or not. 

Well, the difference is that you get motion sickness every time you're a passenger. So, you can either be achy from driving, or, you can be achy and nauseous from someone picking you up.

A bot rolls up as you start to remove your bags from your car. It's an embarrassing amount of stuff; you're not high maintenance, but your body sure is. Thankfully, the bots don't have an opinion one way or the other. 

"Hey girl!" 

You look up to see Bulma walking down the sidewalk, a big grin on her face. 

"Hey!" You call. "It's been a while."

Seeing how happy Bulma is to see you erases your worries about your friendship with her. The nagging little voice in the back of your mind berates you for being so stupid and worrying; you quickly shut it down and tell it to be nice. 

Bulma stops in front of you and reaches out, before pausing. 

"Hug?" She asks. 

You give her a hug, which she very gently returns. It's not often that a regular hug hurts you, but the gesture is sweet nonetheless. 

Bulma steps back and takes a look at you. 

"You're looking great," she says. "Energized, unbothered, hydrated. I hope you're feeling ok?"

You snicker and shake your head. 

"I feel like a shit sandwich, dude," you laugh. 

Her face falls. "Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to assume anything."

You shrug and quickly encapsulate your car. 

"I kinda like it, sometimes," you admit. "I might be sick, I might be unemployable, I might be undateable, but by God, I look good." 

Bulma shakes her head. "You're the full package: smart, caring, insightful, and yes, pretty. So, very dateable."

You smile and start walking with her toward the house. 

"Well, I can't argue with a genius," you chuckle. 

"Is there anything you need to do for your health, right now?" Bulma asks. 

You draw in a shaking breath. Your pain and anxiety are equally bad, right now. 

"Probably go pee, have a snack, and take a walk," you say. "Not too different from a toddler or a puppy." 

Bulma laughs. "Nah, you're missing the nap." 

As soon as she says that, you finally notice the fact that you're absolutely exhausted. 

"I probably need to go to bed after dinner," you admit. "The noise from driving for hours makes me feel like I came out of a wind tunnel."

She nods, but you notice disappointment flash across her face. It feels bad to have to do stuff like this, while visiting someone. 

But, Bulma also understands why, and she doesn't pout or try to talk you into doing more than you can handle. 

You make small talk as you go up to the living quarters. When the elevator doors open, however, you wince. 

It's really bright, here. 

You take a step off of the elevator and make your way toward the combined kitchen and living room. Bulma's mom is hard at work in the kitchen; the smell of whatever she's cooking for dinner wafts through the air. 

Mrs. Briefs bends down and begins to remove plates from the dishwasher. You cringe at the overwhelming sound of the plates clattering together. Thankfully, she puts them away in the cupboard quickly, albeit, with another painful clatter. 

She reaches for the utensils and grabs a handful of them. You're unable to hide your grimace as they clink together. As she tosses them into their respective location, the piercing sound of steel landing on top of steel makes you want to ask for one of those butter knives so you can put your ears out of their misery.

And it is so goddamn bright in here.

You stumble your way through a greeting and a hug —her perfume is so strong— and make your way back to your bedroom.

As soon as you close the door, you exhale and slump. You're sure you'll feel better tomorrow, but it's exhausting to go anywhere. 

It's hard to fully relax, though. The sight of a sex blanket spread out across the bed taunts you with the knowledge that Bulma clearly doesn't know what happened between you and Raditz. 

You glance around the room and notice that there are several new additions: a white noise machine on top of the dresser, several oddly-shaped pillows on a new chaise lounge draped in yet another sex blanket, a third blanket at the top of a basket containing more blankets, several bottles of lube on the nightstand, and an ornate box full of assorted condoms next to the lube. 

The white noise machine is the only welcome addition. 

Your imagination starts to run wild, though, and conjures up various ideas of what to do with the pillows and the chaise lounge. 

Your close your eyes and swallow at the sickening surge of arousal and anxiety curling in the pit of your stomach. You're not over it— not by a long shot. 

Thinking you were over it is biting you in the ass already. 

Grumbling, you shove the offensive blanket off the bed and flop down face-first. You stay there for a little while as the long drive hits you even harder. Even if everything was fine, you wouldn't be able to use the blankets or whatever else tonight, anyway.

You take a few minutes to decompress before forcing yourself to roll over. Grabbing your phone, you prepare to send Bulma a text, but quickly find yourself at a loss for words. 

More than anything, you want to go to bed. Eating doesn't even matter, at this point. You're exhausted. The bonus of being asleep is that you don't have to think, either.

You want to go to bed; you do not need to go to bed, though. 

Gathering your thoughts, you decide to compromise on what's socially acceptable, and what your mind and body both want. You let Bulma know a small part of what's going on, then stare at your phone for another minute while you wait for her to reply. When she doesn't get back to you right away, you drop your phone and flop back onto the bed.

A few minutes pass until you get a reply. Bulma invites you to come to her room, and have dinner with her on her balcony. 

Relieved that you won't have to deal with more than one other person, you sit up, shuffle your way over to the door, and make your way across the house to Bulma's room. Nobody is around, and it's a relief when you get to Bulma's room without seeing anyone else. 

You sit and attempt to make small talk while trying to force yourself to be mentally present. Halfway through dinner, though, you realize that you're not doing a great job at either one. 

You stare down at your plate in a trance, as your vision unfocuses.

You vaguely notice all the input around you: the cool, fall breeze, the low hum of the GR, Bulma unlocking her phone and sending a text, the pattern of the metal patio table underneath your plate.

You're not really here, though. Your mind has a blanket of fog over top of it: heavy, apathetic, exhausted. 

"Are you okay?"

You blink, sit up, and shake your head. 

"I'm so tired that I'm dissociating," you admit.

You theoretically know how try to snap out of it, but you don't care to make an attempt, at the moment. Having your brain on autopilot feels nice, right now. 

"Do you need to go to bed?" Bulma asks. 

You have enough wherewithal to glance around at the sky. The sun is setting, and it'll be dark soon, so that's not too bad, for going to bed. 

"That's probably not a bad idea," you say. "I think I had enough to eat. Sorry, I'm just so tired."

Bulma nods. "No problem. We can hang out after you've had some rest. Are you ok to walk back to your room?"

You blink and try to shake the fog away from your mind. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say. 

The dissociative fog returns like the ever present scent of smoke outside a bar. 

You stand, mumble a "goodnight", and make your way over to the patio door. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Bulma pick up her phone and start tapping out a message. 

Sighing, you trudge across her room, exit into the hallway, and make your way through the empty living room. Hopefully, after some sleep, you'll recharge. Usually, you do. This is just a bad crash. 

You catch sight of a familiar shadow further down the hallway, and flinch at the sudden, electric feeling in the pit of your stomach. It completely pierces through the dissociation, dispelling the comfortably numb haze blanketing your mind.

Him. 

That's him. 

That's the one.

Raditz turns to look at you, his alien eyes flashing in the dark as he looks you up and down. His expression remains guarded, however, and you can't tell what he's thinking.

There's a long silence, before you cave and decide to say something. 

"Hey." 

After a brief pause, he replies.

"Hey."

His reply is flat and emotionless. 

You're torn on striking up a conversation. On one hand, you really want to talk to Raditz and catch up. On the other hand, he's made it perfectly clear how he feels about "lesser beings". 

He's the one who ought to say something, and it should begin with an apology. 

Your gaze meets his for a brief moment, before he turns away from you. 

Fine. It's fine. 

You draw in a shuddering breath, turn, and shut yourself in your bedroom. 

You've got your answer: 

He must think you're trash. 

You desperately want to go back to your protective, dissociative state, but all you feel now is a growing knot of anxiety and rejection in the pit of your stomach. 

Flopping down on the bed, you attempt to distract yourself for a few minutes before giving up.

You put your restless, anxious energy toward getting your things organized, and slowly get ready for bed. All the while, your heart races. 

With trembling hands, you look at your phone again, and conclude that an hour is more than enough time to have waited for a knock on the door. 

The anxiety and despair worsen. Even as you go to bed and turn the lights off, you're unable to go to sleep. 

The anxiety intensifies, and eventually, you take some meds and finally, mercifully, fall asleep. 

Raditz isn't avoiding you. 

He's being strategic. Avoiding you would make him a coward, and he's—

He's an absolute coward. 

Bulma keeps letting him know when you're going to be by yourself. It's like she doesn't remember that he can sense energy. 

Raditz can sense you. He knows when you're nearby, and he avoided you until the last possible moment. Bulma acts like she has no clue what happened between you two. 

It's wise that he has avoided you. You were glaring at him the second you laid eyes on him. Your greeting was flat and emotionless. Raditz waited for you to say something after that, but you didn't. 

He couldn't bear to look at you for very long. As soon as he looked away, you turned on your heel and left without a word. 

It's not surprising that you haven't invited him to your room, but it still stings. 

Raditz walks down the now-empty hall to his room. As soon as the door shuts behind him, he crosses his arms and begins to pace.

You look good— really, really good. Raditz had to remind himself to breathe when he saw you. Maybe, you have some sort of new treatment for your health. You look energized and deceptively healthy. 

Not having to worry about what he's going to do to you probably helps. Gods know you'll actually sleep, tonight. 

He's treated you like absolute trash: sniffed you up like an animal, came all over you and inside you like you were were a hooker, fucked you roughly and frequently like you were a sex doll, talked shit to you about your species.

You must hate him, but you're hiding it to make sure you can see Bulma. 

Raditz strips, shuffles over to his bed, and curls up under the covers. He's almost afraid to stretch out his senses, but he ends up doing so, just to feel you again. 

He realizes with a start that Krillin is nowhere nearby; his gentle, steady energy is halfway across the planet, next to a much smaller, bright beacon of energy. 

Why isn't Krillin here? You're interested in him, after all. As much as Krillin says you two are friends, Raditz doesn't believe it. 

Whatever physical chemistry you and Raditz have is gone. There's attraction on his part, of course; you're absolutely stunning. 

It's probably better, this way. Your power level is tiny. He's a brute, and, next to him, you are so— so—

Delicate. 

When this all started, Raditz knew he was potentially dangerous to you, and took great care to be as gentle as he could. Now, though, he's very afraid of what he might do. 

That is, if you invite him to your room. 

You have not, and you will not. Raditz has missed his chance. It's possible he's never had a chance. His own parents don't want him, after all.

He wants a drink, a smoke, a handful of pills —something, anything— to shut his mind up and let him sleep. If he's asleep, he doesn't have to think of you.

Raditz curls in on himself and tightens his tail around his thigh. Somehow, he eventually falls asleep alone in bed.

Nappa is awake before training time, and long before the sun starts to peek over the horizon. He's both exhausted and restless.

Sleep didn't come to him easily last night. 

You're here. He can smell and sense you.

And Gods, your energy is puny. Nappa almost admires the restraint Raditz had with not hurting you all those months ago. 

As much as he doesn't like hearing Raditz fucking, the fact that he heard nothing last night concerns him. 

What's wrong with his boy? Does the woman think she's too good for him, now that she's met Kakarot? What poisonous words has she heard? 

In Nappa's opinion, it should be the other way around. If she's going to fuck around with Raditz so much, she better be good enough for him. 

You probably don't know how sick Raditz has been since you've been gone. From his matesick pining to getting disowned, Raditz is an absolute mess. 

Try as he might, Raditz still has a soft side to him. It's a strange blemish for a battle-hardened warrior, but, Nappa realizes that it's just part of how Raditz is. 

Nappa thinks that's why he's so protective of Raditz. She really won't touch him? Was she faking how good she was feeling last time? If so, to what end? He's not sure how many of these people are good for Raditz, especially that woman.

That Yamcha guy might be okay. He got canned by a Saibaman when Nappa first saw him, then shows up a few years later strong enough to kick Ginyu's ass. And now, he's training Raditz.

Nappa doesn't think they're fucking, but Yamcha is cute like Raditz likes em, as far as he knows. 

Nothing he can do about it, if he is. Could've picked way worse. 

He's got that Krillin guy as a friend, too. Also coulda picked worse. 

He's still on edge with these Earthlings. Nappa will never forget the pain and helplessness he felt when he heard Raditz dying light-years away through his scouter. 

It was part of why Nappa was so cruel to them when he first landed with Vegeta:

He wanted them to feel that same pain and helplessness. 

They definitely did. 

The revenge felt hollow. The hollowness pissed him off; that was why he escalated his brutality with them. 

Nappa sighs and puts his head in his hands. He's getting sentimental as he gets older. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not. 

To be fair, Nappa isn't sure of much at all, these days. 

The only thing he feels certain about is that he has no control over what happens in his life.