Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, ain’tcha supposed to buy that before ya read it?” The question drifted over his shoulder, but he didn’t react to it in the knee-jerk way he might have, if he hadn’t expected the nosy voice eventually. No, he was prepared for this interaction—mostly—from watching this stranger in the corner of his eye for the better part of half an hour, slowly moving his way toward him. In no way was he being discreet about it, but he wasn’t direct either. He drifted to him almost naturally.

“And how will I gauge my interest in the material, if I don’t sample it?” He exhaled, brushing off his shoulder and aiming to signal for this fool to put some distance between their bodies. The very literal need to hover over him was brazen for a stranger, but this one didn’t appear to have a great deal of sense about him. Not if his introduction lacked that much tact.

“I dunno, I just look at the pictures anyway,” he grinned, widely—enough to at least give evidence of a warm personality behind the dumb-as-bricks first impression.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself almost suckered by the trap. If he asked, then he was engaging it. If he engaged it, then he was committed to the conversation and he had no interest. His mission was to find a book that suited his purpose, buy it, and go. Interaction with weird strangers was far removed from his plans for the day. This one had just snuck into his orbit and he could easily snake his way out of it.

At least, he thought. This one wasn’t capable of taking his silence as a hint, it would seem.

“My name’s Goku, what’s yours?”

Looking him up and down, he could identify that this person did look like a Goku. Goku sounded goofy and Goku looked goofy. He wore his big stupid grin on his young face, open and unrepentant for his annoyance, framed by perpetual bedhead. His loud attire screamed joy with bright colors and Vegeta almost recoiled from the energy this person gave off. The exact opposite from him, and he wanted to ask him why he was speaking to him. Instead, his eyes fell across a name tag on the right side of his chest, and a brow raised.

“Goku, hm? Your name tag says otherwise.”

“Huh? Oh, this? Yeah, gotta wear it til I get my new one in, they didn’t know I gotta preferred name is all.”

“Well, then, Kakarot it is,” he closed the book in his hand and placed it back on the shelf, reaching for another one—uncaring for the displeased noise the man in the obnoxious orange scrubs gave him.

“Aw c’mon, I gave you my name—“

“Your name tag gave me your name, Kakarot. Your real name, of course. It sounds more professional. Which is what you should be going for, given what you appear to...be trying to be...well...actually what are you...a medical something or other, or a clown?”

“You’re kinda mean, aren’tcha?” Despite the words, Kakarot didn’t actually sound offended and that caused a moment for pause. The expectation was for his cutting remark to be enough to see this puppy knocked down just enough to realize he wasn’t friendly, but to turn and meet eyes with him, made him realize he wasn’t that easily tilted away.

“You’re going to do well enough in medical, attitude wise, I suppose,” he acknowledged, briefly. He seemed perfectly capable of handling situations with sour individuals, at the very minimum.

“What’s your name?”

“Vegeta.”

“Well, nice to meet‘cha, Vegeta.”

At that, Vegeta turned on him fully, book completely ignored. The intrigue for this...complete lack of awareness was just far too great. He hated it, but it compelled him. What exactly was so nice about meeting him? Not a nice thing had come out of his mouth. And not a nice intention was further planned. “You didn’t answer my question, so clown it is. Since that is the case, you are in the wrong section. Books on the circus are over there.”

The first hint of a frown made itself present, but it was so brief that it actually disappointed Vegeta. His victory was so fleeting that he couldn’t actually even claim it as a victory. What nonsense; this man had the nerve to stand there and be—

“I’m actually here for an anatomy book...but I dun’ like any of the pictures in these…”

“You’re actually in medicine.” The disbelief was real.

“Well, yeah. I even have a stethoscope,” his big stupid grin returned.

“But. How?” You’re obviously an idiot, he wanted to add, but even he had some grace in his manners. He could withhold his rudeness for a few more minutes before unleashing that one directly.

“They gave me money to go to school because I’m in sports. An’ since I get injured a lot, it made sense to learn medical stuff right. I can take care of myself. ‘Sides, I can go anywhere with it, they said. So when I gotta travel for my training n’ stuff, I can just transfer.”

“...Nursing then?”

“Yep!”

“Slightly terrifying to think you could be taking care of me when I’m sick one day. The man who looks for his quality material in picture books.”

“Least I pay for ‘em before I read ‘em,” Kakarot stuck his tongue out and Vegeta felt like no quip he could come up with could ever actually effect this man. Either he was too stupid or just too unaffected by his sourness. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I am professionally annoyed by strangers.”

“Aw, don’t be stingy, I told you what I do.”

“You seem the type who’d offer up your life story if I asked. I know more about you, than I do my own brother, and I definitely didn't ask,” he resorted to picking a book by the quality of its spine and selecting it based merely on its presentation—rather than on its contents. He was judging a book on its cover in hopes that he could shorten the time it was taking him in the store and worm his way out. Maybe knock this stranger out of his orbit and finally be free of the brief social exchange he’d unfortunately come into contact with.

“You just seemed like an interesting person is all. Yer lookin’ at medical books too, so we got something in common, right?”

“No. I am not looking at any book anymore,” he shot him a dry look, but it went completely missed. This had to be intentional. This man’s ability to dodge all of his intentions could not be this accidental. “I am apparently playing twenty questions.”

“You’re not very good at it, then. You don’t answer any of them.”

His mouth fell open a bit and he stared at him. The audacity—

“You,” he started before he caught himself and realized he was suckered in so swiftly. This fool was very good at manipulation, intentionally or not. Vegeta cleared his throat and started over, “You don’t have better things to do than bug people in public places?”

“Well nah, not at this particular moment I didn’t. Guess I was just kinda bein’ nosy. You’re kinda built, so I guess I was kinda thinkin’ maybe you were into some kinda sport too? Boxing? Martial Art? Then I noticed the kinda book. How’s that related? Is it related?”

“I think maybe you’ve breached the twenty allotted questions, Kakarot,” Vegeta could feel his enthusiasm, like he was a gigantic puppy looking for someone to throw a stick at him. If Vegeta was a more sociable creature, this sort of interest may have been charming. But Vegeta had been called socially dead from the neck up enough times that he could easily agree with the diagnosis.

“Still ain’t answered any, though.”

“I don’t have to.”

“You ain’t actually asked me to go away either.”

“I….” he paused, face falling flat. True, he had not directly asked him to leave him alone...but he had made every indication that he was not approachable. Or maybe there was no such thing as unapproachable to a marshmallow like this clown before him. He really was suitable for a nurse’s role if he was able to be so cheery, so insistently. That persistence would be tiring to most. “No. I suppose I did not.”

“If you wanted me to go away, all ya had to do was tell me.”

“Is that so…” He wondered, that moment, why he didn’t tell him right there to just leave, but he did not. He failed to dismiss him immediately, and Kakarot smiled in response. He seemed to know that was the way it would go and he leaned against the bookshelf a little bit, turning his attention right back to his game of questions.

“So are you in sports?”

“...I lift weights,” he succumbed to his prodding and could not figure out just why. His needling was done so successfully that Vegeta was hardly aware that Kakarot had threaded the whole conversation in his favor. Not until watched Kakarot fumbling with something in his shirt pocket. A piece of paper with something he was quickly scribbling on it. Numbers written across it and just a few letters. This man in the annoying orange scrubs held it out to him and he took it with a confused hesitation.

“I weight lift from time to time, but it’s hard to find someone who lifts in my bracket. Bet you do.” He was openly looking him over and Vegeta didn’t even attempt to stop him. His sense of pride wouldn’t allow him to deny that he was strong enough to keep up with this clown anyway.

“I don’t weight lift with others often.”

“But not never, right? You should totally hit the gym with me some time. That’s my number, text me. Don’t even gotta call. You can’t really communicate phone calls in mean looks, anyway.”

He gave him a mean look in response. The longer this man stood in this presence the more he was being completely floored by this brazenness. He hadn’t ever spoken to this man before and this fool expected him to actually want to speak to him again willingly? What nonsense that was—

“Maybe you can even tell me what you actually do,” Kakarot added and Vegeta curled his nose, playing right into his hands—and he knew it.

“I’m a Physical Therapist. There, are you happy?”

“Ah, yeah? That’s cool, you gotta be real smart to do that kinda stuff, don’tcha?”

“Smarter than you, at least.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Kakarot, once again, didn’t take his insult to heart; but rather, seemed more earnestly interested in the little bits of information Vegeta was tossing out to him about himself. The concept...was strange. That this complete stranger was actually showing legitimate interest in details about him, but this person probably did this for everyone. And yet, he was holding a piece of paper with a phone number on it, still.

“Shoot, guess I should probably leave ya alone though. Was really just killin’ time before pickin’ someone up.” Kakarot pushed himself off the bookshelf, looking at his watch and glancing around. He hadn’t actually selected a book at all and he didn’t seem to be intending to anymore. All of his attention got lost in heckling Vegeta and he’d run his time short, so it seemed. “Hope I talk to ya later though, Vegeta. See ya ‘round!”

Kakarot’s enthusiasm stayed with him as far as Vegeta could see him, waving until he was out of the door. He had come from nowhere, suddenly over his shoulder, and left Vegeta in a twilight zone in his aftermath.

What the fuck just happened.

Who the fuck just happened.

He stared at the piece of paper with a number on it and a name. It said Goku, but that was Kakarot to him—try as the clown might to write it down otherwise.

Vegeta took a deep breath when it all finally caught up with him.

“Oh my god, I just got picked up in a bookstore.”

Chapter Text

“So this is the guy who managed to get Vegeta out of his hovel, huh? Wow, I expected an ogre or a gremlin, to be honest, but you’re actually kinda cute. My name’s Bulma.”

Instantaneously, Vegeta regretted everything. He regretted ever further engaging the person who badgered him in a goddamn bookstore and he certain regretted ever mentioning where he was going to be that night. He hadn’t necessarily invited him, but he hadn’t necessarily told him not to show up in that specific public location freely either. Kakarot knew exactly how to play his cards to put himself wherever he wanted to be. Vegeta learned this the hard way after falling for his drawn out introduction.

Now he had three days a week where he met this idiot at the gym to lift weights. He was still in a twilight zone and the end of that zone was growing longer and wider.

“My name’s Goku,” Kakarot introduced himself and the woman in question cast him a questioning look. Vegeta didn’t bother to answer it.

“He said your name was Kakarot.”

“Everyone else calls me Goku. Only he calls me that. It’s special, I guess.”

The glass in his hand found itself empty, much quicker than he had intended to make it; but Kakarot had a way about turning things against him swiftly without sounding like that was his intention. His cheekiness was innocent, but he was finding himself believing there was some manipulative demon lurking in there somewhere. He just couldn’t prove it. And stopping it was harder than he liked to admit. Kakarot was a damned train wreck and he was watching it. He watched it from the moment he introduced himself.

“Oh yeah?” Bulma turned her face directly to his, and he nearly turned his back to her. Her expression was sly, like gears were turning in her head and she was processing some deeper meaning. There was no deeper meaning, damn it. He met this fool at random, and...acted on a whim. Like he would never do in a million years. And actually took his phone number.

She did not need to actually know this man successfully picked him up at a bookstore. That was not what happened, it was just the circumstances of how he found a workout partner. The subsequent interactions were a result of that...absolutely not the fucking pick up at the bookstore. Bulma, however, didn’t care about details, she was already tipsy enough to take anything and roll with it.

She clapped her hand against his back and grinned, “Vegeta, I didn’t know you had it in you. Younger, cute, and nice and beefy—“

There were no words to convey his horror at the trash coming from her mouth, but he knew better than to think she would hold back on his account. He put his hand over her mouth and pulled her face toward his, hoping that Kakarot was distracted enough being a social butterfly with Bulma’s other idiot friends to not hear any of what she was saying. Knowing his luck, he heard every word and was just going to pretend he didn’t, until he needed to use it against him. Vegeta was convinced there was some evil in Kakarot somewhere.

Completely convinced. No one is that earnest.

“Woman, if you don’t stop. It’s not like that—. He’s just some ding dong I work out with. I mentioned I was coming here and offhandedly said he could show up if he wanted.”

“Sounds to me like you wanted him to,” she mumbled against his fingers, barely audible, but he could read her intention from the motion of her lips. He was close to lifting her up and stuffing her in a garbage can with a bottle of wine. Right where she belonged.

“I’m using him as my excuse to leave early, because I don’t like you people that much,” he explained, flicking her. “Once I’ve decided watching you get trashed isn’t fun anymore, I’ll use him to go home. It’s foolproof.”

“Except what are you gonna do with him once you leave, hmmm?” She raised a brow and he scorned her whole existence for her insinuation.

“Take him home, that’s it.” How dare she imply anything else. How dare she make him think about this fool in any capacity beyond him being the nuisance that he was.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill ya to loosen up a little more. Clearly this boy really wants to be your somethin’,” she cackled at him and he knew she was teasing him. He pushed her away at that and turned on her—withdrawing so hard that he hoped she would disappear from the very memory of his spirit. No such luck, but he was ready for another mouthful of alcohol to help soothe the irritation of her away.

“Kakarot, what do you drink?” He nudged his way between one of Bulma’s idiot friends and took back the one he sort of invited.

“Hm, I don’t really drink a whole lot...what’s good?”

“Come with me,” Vegeta motioned with great relief. He could look at Kakarot and see that he was probably not a drinker. Getting him away from the rest of them would be easy, and that meant getting himself away from the rest of them would be easy. Social obligations successfully minimized. He recognized his introverted behavior, and embraced it with everything he had.

Unlike Vegeta, Kakarot’s personality was strangely both suited and not suited for the bar, because he was outgoing and social. But he was also very...naive in nature. He was in need of Vegeta’s careful direction away from being pulled aside by every variety of people wanting to talk to him. Strangers in a bookstore were one thing, strangers in a bar were another. Some people could have decent intentions, others...perhaps not as much, and he had to wonder sometimes, if Kakarot was just very willing to give mean people a chance to not be mean to him.

Hell, Vegeta was still trying to be mean to him and Kakarot was deflecting him effortlessly. He was either stupid or stubborn. Possibly both.

Not that it was his business at all to protect Kakarot from anyone else, but he had a distinct impression that bars weren’t familiar territory for the bright eyed idiot in the loud orange jacket—because of course he would wear regular clothes as obnoxious as his scrubs. He idly wondered if telling him he’d buy him a fucking wardrobe on the condition he had to wear a different color would be considered too forward. He had an ulterior motive, but it was for the greater of society—or more importantly, his own two eyes.

For the time being, however, he remained fixed on his task at hand. Balancing sampling drinks and maintaining sobriety long enough to pass an acceptable amount of time until he could slip away without Bulma shrieking at him for being a shut-in. He knew what he liked, but Kakarot wasn’t a drinker and he didn’t have a clue what a non-drinker’s tolerance would be like. Having him sip off his drinks did nothing but attract Bulma back over to them like a moth to a flame; but it made it easier to gauge what Kakarot might actually like.

Kakarot wasn’t taken to very many of the straight liquors. That didn’t take long to determine, by the expressions he made. While he warmed up to different some rums, no longer making faces at the taste of it, he didn’t seem to want much more—decidedly more interested in trying different things instead. And before long, Bulma had him tasting her mixed drinks. Some part of him just felt like letting him have an open buffet of tasting alcohol with no gauge of how much he was actually taking in, was a bad idea. This man was an adult, however, and he wasn’t actually responsible for him. Yet, he made a point to keep an eye on him, anyway.

This man was supposed to be his excuse, that was all.

“Goku, you really seem to be a tequila kinda guy, looks like it,” Bulma grinned, patting him on the back and leaning right into his side. She was getting very cozy with him and Vegeta knew that was just how she was, but he couldn’t help but he torn between concerned and annoyed by it. Annoyed because Bulma was sinking her claws into him so quickly, and concerned because she was a bad influence all around.

“Guess so, ‘s kinda mixed ‘n with some stuff though, maybe that’s why,” Kakarot grinned and Vegeta legitimately couldn’t distinguish if it was his words slurring or his usual lazy speech. Or the terrifying possibility that he could be playing it up for show. Vegeta was unwilling to let any possibility go unchecked with this man.

“I do like my drinks to be like liquid candy, y’know. Makes it more fun than just choking it down and being a sourpuss about it, unlike how some people I know do it.” She took direct aim at Vegeta and he cast her a middle finger from the bottom of his glass of straight, no-bullshit, whiskey. Sobriety wasn’t looking all that exciting anymore, after all. “See, look at this. He’s no fun at all. How’d you end up crossing his path? He barely leaves the house. He orders his groceries online, for crying out loud.”

“Says the woman who has someone else buy her groceries for her.”

“At least I go outside, you mole.”

“I went outside once, and look what happened,” he gestured at Kakarot, who gave her a thumbs up, fully adopting her drink from her while she somehow found another one to fill her hands with. “I didn’t ask for this clown, and now here is a clown.”

“Aw, Goku, he likes you,” she pinched his cheek and then proceeded to let him try a sip of this new drink too, just for kicks. Vegeta was almost becoming heavily incentivized to ask her to stop. Kakarot’s face was starting to look flushed.

“How do you know ‘im, Bulma? You say he never goes outside, but he’s had to at least twice, despite what he said.”

Cheeky little bastard—

“Oho, you’re cute as hell. Vegeta here’s my little gremlin Ex-husband, actually.”

Oh, god damn it. “Woman, can we not, I don’t like people knowing I married you.”

Bulma glanced at Vegeta, right in the eyes and he felt challenged. Challenged in a way he knew he lost before he had a chance. She tilted her head toward Kakarot, “he’s only saying that because he doesn’t want you to think he’s straight because he has an ex-wife. When in all actuality he’s got an ex-wife because he’s not straight enough, innit that right, Vegeta?”

Mortified.

That was his response. Mortification to the degree of downing another shot of whatever he could snatch off the nearest server. Bitch. He would die for her, but she was still a terrible bitch.

“God—damn it—Woman—“ he hissed immediately after recovering from the burn of whatever brand of liquor he took in. “You don’t just go around telling people that shit—“

“Why not? It’s better than people thinking we split because we don’t like each other. Or that someone cheated or some stupid shit like that...shit, Vegeta, I’m tryin’a wingman for this boy, an’ you’re makin’ this super hard, so pipe down, will ya? Goku, can you see this nonsense? Yikes, just yikes, huh?”

Kakarot held his eyes on Vegeta, despite Bulma talking to him. Vegeta hated how targeted he felt, but he refused to step back either. This damn battle hadn’t concluded with a victor and Bulma was just a small ripple. He could recover from her as long as he didn’t let her carry on for too long. Kakarot didn’t need to know anything that personal about him, but her big mouth would spill everything there was to know if he didn’t find a sock to stuff in her cheeks. Or better, another mixed drink with a few extra shots in it. That was much easier than taking his sock off.

“I mean, that’s good to know, though, you saved me like, five steps, Bulma, thanks.”

He just didn’t account for the wild card of Kakarot and he froze.

His wonderful ex-wife’s laughter took several years off of his life, he was fairly certain. Her face absolutely lit up with mirth at Kakarot’s sheer bluntness and his stunning delivery of intention and Vegeta was torn between leaving, drowning himself in a full bottle of something toxic, and divorcing them both as acquaintances entirely. He could work out at home. He could have everything delivered and never leave the threshold of his house again. He could pay someone to run his errands and never see the natural light again. He could live in a bomb shelter and never come back out until the rest of humanity was well out of his reach. As long as she was laughing, he was deeply tempted.

“Oh—Oh my lord, Vegeta—this guy was comin’ after you, no matter what—and I bet you didn’t even realize it, hahah!” She swished over to him and bumped her hip right against him and he felt victimized by her again, but more so, he was suddenly acutely aware of what was happening. Or at least what she actually meant. “You’re takin’ him home, were you?” She rested her chin on his shoulder and he could not even attempt to look directly at her.

No amount of hissing at her would stop her, she had already gotten her words in, and before he could even try to counter, he had Kakarot to contend with. Kakarot, he found, was even worse than Bulma. The two of them were about the same level of tipsy and he lamented ever letting them meet face to face.

“Yeah, ‘m definitely feelin’ lil bit fuzzy. Gonna have’ta go home with you, I guess.”

Kakarot dropped it in the same way he spoke everything else he did. With sheer nonchalance that just gave Vegeta an out of body experience. With goofy, confident, delightfulness that left him wondering what the hell was going on and how the hell he’d lost control of the situation. That was how he ended up with his phone in his hand, texting the idiot after acting like he was so offended by his very existence.

Quite suddenly, taking Kakarot home didn’t mean the same fucking thing it meant the first time he said it. Kakarot knew that full well and being aware of that made a huge difference. He preferred to think he was being teased before, or that Kakarot was just some weird overly friendly clown that was doing a charity because he could clearly see how pitiful he was socially.

No, apparently not.

“Hey, give this one a damn chance, Vegeta,” Bulma turned her whispers into his ear and he watched Kakarot taking the last sips of Bulma’s drink with dismay. “He’s apparently charmed by your terrible personality. Those only come once in ritual moon and we outlawed blood sacrifices ages ago. Besides,” she paused and he was not prepared for the sucker punch she was going to deliver afterwards, “just look at him...boy, you can use whatever he can give you.” He watched her visibly look him up and down and it dropped his stomach severely.

The sharp inhale was the indicator that he was done with her and he pushed her away from him. His blood pressure couldn’t handle another minute. He wasn’t drunk enough to be tolerating Bulma’s lack of tact and didn’t want to be, either. “I am never speaking to you again.”

“Okay, text me tomorrow and tell me what happened.”

“Fuck right off, forever.” He grunted, taking out his wallet to throw money at the bar, uncaring to the dollar amount—he was that hurried to escape. Money could be replaced, his sanity could not. “Kakarot, if you’re leaving with me, come on. I’m not standing another minute with this. I can go home and be drunk and sad there.”

“Aw, you don’t gotta be sad, Vegeta. We can be drunk and happy instead,” Kakarot chirped behind him and his jaw slacked at how startled he was by how swiftly that was slipped right in on him. Bulma’s cackling didn’t even reach him this time.

He had no words. Kakarot’s tone stopped him completely dead—struck him with a startling understanding that he was going home with the guy. On purpose. Absolutely on purpose. Not taking him home. Going home with. And that may have been his own plan all along. He just didn’t admit it.

What the fuck is happening here.

“...Hurry up, Kakarot. Or Bulma can take you home.”

“I’m comin’.”

Chapter Text

“Ya been working on that all afternoon, when are ya gonna be done with it?”

Kakarot’s voice filtered in from the kitchen and Vegeta barely acknowledged it, not even willing to break his eyes away from the tablet screen in his hands. Keys artificially clacked continuously and he filled in the forms at a steady rate, pausing only to check boxes and sign with the swipe of a finger. With a few more taps, the machine on the desk behind him woke up from its slumber and began to spit the numerous printed copies he asked it for. Those, he would have to take with him to his office, the following day; but the rest of his work was easily sent through the office emails and the company website portal. Kakarot just didn’t appreciate efficiency.

“Hello—are you ignorin’ me again?”

“Yes,” he did answer that time, effectively negating his answer, but Kakarot didn’t appreciate that either.

“You’re supposed to be off today,” his voice sounded closer this time, “and you’re doin’ work. Bulma told me if you did this then I gotta stop you.”

“I told you to stop talking to her.”

“No way, she tells me all the juicy details.”

Sucker that he was, Vegeta fell for his prodding and turned his attention away from the device in his hands and flared up at him, trying to telekinetically throw him out of the room. It didn’t work. Kakarot was still hovering in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen—grinning at him for his success. He fucking knew better. By that point, he had thought that maybe he would have learned not to succumb to his knee jerk reactions; but Kakarot played him since the beginning. Bulma probably didn’t tell him anything that she knew would make Vegeta actually angry with her.

Kakarot was just very goddamn slick about getting a rise out of him.

“What do you want?” Vegeta’s voice dipped a tone lower, showing his lack of amusement. That was promptly balled up and tossed out by Kakarot’s complete dismissal of his attitude. He was immune and how dare he have the nerve.

“Your attention,” he answered so simply, shaking a big spoon at him.

“You are in the kitchen, you’re not even available for my attention,” Vegeta turned his face right back down to the screen, mouth pressed into a straight line. He was not going to humor his nonsense. He was not. He humored far too much of this buffoon’s nonsense as it was. He invited him into his house that one time and suddenly, he never seemed to not be in his house.

Kick him out and lock the door. Close the curtains and succumb to dark cavern life. You know you want to.

Then he would never hear the end of it from Bulma; or so that was immediately what he told himself as his excuse for not shutting himself in forever. It never had anything to do with being complacent in Kakarot’s near constant presence in his life. He was not complacent at all. Every time Kakarot even remotely existed in his presence he was having a traumatic experience. Kakarot was a trauma from beginning to present. Kakarot was Present Traumatic Stress Development in action; and yet, Vegeta didn’t tell him to go away.

He was an adequate workout partner; that was all it was.

Clearly, that explained why he was in his house, in his kitchen. Or why he’d been allowed to cook in his kitchen before. And why he’d been allowed to stay the night several times in the past. Or sleep in his bed. Or sleep with him. All of these things obviously meant nothing of value. Decent workout partner...who happened to have an oddly magnetic power to sucker him into situations that would leave him in a pure state of bafflement.

No one else lived in his house to witness it and yet he still put a high-neck shirt on to hide from the goddamn hickey left on his neck. Because how the fuck did that happen? And honestly, how dare Kakarot act like he didn’t do that on purpose, too. Oops, he said.

Bullshit.

Satan dwelled somewhere behind that cheerful, pleasant face, ready to punish him for all of his past transgressions. Big goofy smile was just a front for some kind of horror monster out to get him, specifically, and drag him down to his personal hell—where he would spend the rest of his life being forced to be marginally social and have personal intimate relationship interactions that were healthy and happy. This goddamn man.

“You’re still supposed to be off work, y’know. You can do all that tomorrow. Don’tcha got assistants an’ stuff for all that?”

“My assistants are there to follow through on my orders, Kakarot. They can’t actually write my orders, that is why I am doing it. It’s no different than your Physicians to your Nurses. Only my Assistants don’t have to wipe anyone’s ass.”

“Nah, they just gotta kiss yours. That’s gotta be much worse,” Kakarot stuck his tongue out, throwing a dish towel at him.

“Says the man who’s shown he will put anything in his mouth if told to,” Vegeta said the words before his brain could catch itself and he almost couldn’t believe his own two ears. What a vulgar implication to come from his own mouth. It sounded like something Kakarot would have said and the concept of that was horrifying. Bulma would have a field day with it.

“You complained less about that than anything else you’ve ever complained about, and that really means something,” Kakarot rapped his knuckles against the doorframe and clicked his tongue. The tilt of his head and the lift of his eyebrow framed the whole statement with so much cheeky antagonism that Vegeta had to be impressed. If he wasn’t ready to get up and fight him, of course. He was always ready to fight him. How dare he play off his body language so naturally that every clap back looked effortless.

At least it detracted from his raised blood pressure at suddenly accepting that shameless things could just fly out of his mouth in casual conversation. Not that it mattered, no one else was listening. But he wasn’t Bulma, damn it.

“I’m never going to be done complaining about you. You color blinded me, won’t stop talking me to death, and moved in without informing me.”

“I definitely informed you. I did say I was going home with you. I jus’ didn’t say I was ever leavin’.”

Vegeta suffered the moment Kakarot countered him with those words, because they sounded so well planned, but he knew that they were just Kakarot being unexpectedly clever. And yet, the words were unfairly true, ultimately. Nothing that he did was actually done by any grand plot, but somehow, Kakarot managed to roll with it so well that it all went in his favor. His sheer audacity, every single time, was what actually strung Vegeta along. He was played so thoroughly, by an idiot savant. A socially brilliant moron who winged it like a champion.

Vegeta’s state of offended by it was never lessened.

“You’re insufferable. You’re going to pay rent if you keep this up, fucking leech,” he grunted, turning his eyes right back down to the tablet and dismissing him back into the kitchen. Come into his house and sass him all the time like that—

Who did this little RN shit think he was. He was tempted to bend Kakarot over backwards so far he’d need a diagnosis and a physical therapist himself just to recover from it.

Make you kiss my ass, Kakarot. Then—

His internalized scowling was interrupted abruptly by a hollow hissing sound directly into his ear. Directly. So directly into his ear that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand and his shoulders roll. His instincts were to protect his neck and his whole body shivered in the recoil. The noise that came out of his mouth was a strangled one of alarm and partial distress—perhaps a little bit of disgust. His brain took way too long to identify what had occurred and by the time he registered the horror that was happening to him, he was already in the middle of being assaulted by the criminal in question.

Can in hand, Kakarot came at him while his attention was split between his work and being lost in his other thoughts, and he had unapologetically unloaded a cruel amount of whipped cream right into his ear. A prank not unlike Kakarot, who had once pulled shit like that on him before, by popping wasabi in his mouth and then pulling him into a deep nasty kiss. The sheer shock of that had been enough to keep him acutely aware of Kakarot’s mischievous ways. However, he had no way to be even remotely prepared for the follow up assault and struggled horrendously with shoving down the mortified squawk that came with having Kakarot’s tongue dipped into his ear.

His whole face felt like fire and Kakarot tilted his head to the side, holding him in place with his fingers on his jaw and edging his throat. An involuntary quiver snaked up his spine at the brazen manner that Kakarot opened his mouth and licked the side of his face, dragging his tongue along the edges of his ear and breathing deeply—making him hear his heavy puffing, on purpose.

He wanted to die. His instincts were telling him to cover his face and roll over on the couch and hide, but his pride would not allow it. Kakarot would win if he did that...Who was he kidding, Kakarot won already; but he had no intention of admitting it easily. He was going to resist with as much dignity as he could, despite losing all actual control the moment Kakarot launched his attack. He hadn’t even noticed when the tablet slipped out of his hands and fell onto the floor by his feet—and that was exactly where it was going to stay.

There was some difficulty associated with getting any work done when he suddenly had a lap full of Annoying Nurse. Fortunately, they both had medical backgrounds, because he was fairly certain he was going to need a goddamn blood pressure check by the end of it.

“You are too fucking big to be in my lap, asshole,” he puffed at him, pressing his fingers into his sides, but not to remove him. Kakarot’s response was to leave a wet trail from the edge of his ear to his mouth and draw him right into his next phase of assimilation—drawing him right, so he couldn’t escape from it. At least there was no wasabi involved this time, only the faint sweet taste of the goddamn whipped cream he’d just licked out of his fucking ear.

This monster.

“Well maybe if you’d be more agreeable, I wouldn’t gotta come an’ get in ya business,” he planted another large, mushy kiss right on his mouth and Vegeta bristled in response. How could this man successfully strike him so effortlessly. He found no energy to brush him off. He never found the energy to brush him off entirely. Either morbid curiosity or self denied desire; whatever the case may be, it kept him planted firmly in Kakarot’s grasp.

“You have my attention now, are you satisfied?”

Satisfied was at least one way to put it, judging by the puppy-like grin he received. Kakarot really was so simple as to just want his attention—which was so absurd to him. Who would want his attention that badly? This man, clearly. Single minded, slightly selfish, but good natured fool with a heart of gold and intentions so pure it made Vegeta ill. Also hiding satan beneath the surface, somewhere. Couldn’t forget that detail.

Kakarot, being physically much larger than him, did not belong in his lap, though admittedly, there was something empowering about having him there. Postures could not handle the size difference the way they were sitting, however, and Kakarot did finally gain some sense and ease off his lap. Vegeta gave in and turned all of his time over to his “guest” and for some reason, mistakenly thought that his attention was enough to curb the demon from causing more chaos.

He should have known better than to think this man could contain himself.

A thick pair of toned arms snaked up the sides of his legs and he he found himself with Kakarot back in his lap, just...not the same way he was before. He was wedged between his knees and leaning forward, craning his head back to look up at him, head in his lap. The offensive way he had his tongue half out of his mouth, left a dropping sensation in Vegeta’s stomach. If he had a mirror, he was certain he would see several shades of red in his own face. Because he could feel it creeping up his neck.

“Kakarot—”

“Listen, Mom always said I couldn’t have my dessert before dinner, but I’m an adult now, an’ honestly, if I wanna have dessert before and after dinner, I can. And y’know, that’s pretty awesome. An’ I really ain’t found any benefit to bein’ an adult greater than that,” he spoke, effortlessly, leaving Vegeta with his mouth hanging open in shock again, in his perpetual state of bafflement. Kakarot’s large hands didn’t have any hesitation or trouble messing with his belt and loosening buttons and zippers and Vegeta half covered his face.

“You son of a bitch—”

“Relax, I set a timer, I won’t burn dinner. Promise. The only thing I’m gonna set on fire today is you an’ I don’t think the fire alarm’s gonna go off over that, or nothin’.”

Vegeta stopped breathing entirely, laying his head on the backrest of the couch and covering his face with his hands, defeated. Every time. Kakarot had no restraints and that made him powerful.

Give up, you won’t win.

He deeply exhaled, removing a hand from his face and threading his fingers through the messy mop of Kakarot’s hair—somewhat fondly. He was almost willing to admit he was fine with not winning. Almost.

Almost.

Chapter Text

The numbers on the clock blinked at him in the dark, from the table beside the bed. It was early, far too early to need to consider getting up yet. The sun wouldn’t be up for another three hours and he didn’t have to leave for work for another two hours after the sun would rise. Rolling over and going back to sleep was a perfectly reasonable option and he would absolutely do that very thing, if rolling over had even been an option for him. The large arm wrapped around him, instead, held him in place—though, loathe to admit he was not uncomfortable.

Kakarot’s tilted face found its home in the curve of his neck and his larger body curled to accept being pressed against Vegeta’s chest. For reasons just beyond Vegeta, Kakarot enjoyed finding ways of completely ignoring the ridiculousness of trying to act like he was the smaller one—even as he rolled over him several times in his sleep before he’d finally get comfortable and stay there. At least he stopped snoring when he finally was settled.

The clock by the bed gave him several more hours of rest, but Kakarot did not have the same luxury. That was really why he was awake, though he would never admit it; that his internal schedule had become so adjusted to Kakarot’s disappearance in the morning, that he woke around the time he knew he would start to rouse and have to get up for work. This morning shift was a temporary side effect of transferring his job to the hospital closer to Vegeta’s new office. Eventually, if he wanted to sleep in, then he could probably inherit a better shift.

That was simply the price he paid for the convenience, though he never once complained. Vegeta did, though, because how dare he leave the bed during the prime sleeping hours and make him have to readjust to a colder bed. Kakarot’s retaliation was always a dumb kiss on the mouth and to roll away to find his way into the shower—before he’d fall into his horrible orange scrubs. Thankfully, Vegeta couldn’t see him in the mostly darkened bedroom, or he’d have to tell him he still looked as much like a clown as the first day he met him. He still was a clown.

Just one that lived with him and continuously invaded every aspect of his personal life; that was his personal life.

“Kakarot,” he mumbled thickly, still groggy from sleep, “get up, if your alarm clock actually goes off. I’m going to make you eat it.”

The larger body stirred after his words, and he stretched, laying out over him without apology. “You know I don’t even set it anymore,” the muffled response came with an added nip at his cheek. “You threaten me every morning, so I’ve been using you as my alarm clock instead.”

“One of these days I’m going to let you be late and just keep sleeping.”

“We’ll play Russian Roulette and I’ll set my alarm on some days and not other days and we’ll see what happens.”

“I will kill you and feel nothing.”

Kakarot dismissed his threat far too easily by turning his face into the side of his neck, but he had no energy to hiss at him yet. Anything that he managed was just barely above a lazy mumble, because he didn’t have to get out of bed. Only Kakarot had to ruin his own comfort and leave to go deal with obnoxious hospital assholes; Vegeta did not have to remove himself for several hours. He had every intention of sprawling right out into the bed, the very moment Kakarot got his ass off of him and left to shower. Getting through the morning ritual of removing Kakarot was always that challenge, however.

His personal sense of responsibility was present, but just stretched to the point of letting the clock tick down to the very last minute—knowing he’d have to rush himself to get ready, because he always wanted to stay in bed as long as possible with him. Kakarot was willing to stare at the clock and brave mental mathematics to figure out how long he could remain, crushing Vegeta under him, every morning. In a way, that was impressive from a man who frequently defaulted to using fingers to count on, because he often got himself lost. Kakarot’s mind mystified Vegeta. His moments of brilliance came in proportion to his moments of ridiculousness.

Vegeta had long since had the stunning revelation that he was just stuck watching the trainwreck he’d first witnessed, and it just never reached its end yet.

That trainwreck finally did have to drag himself out of the bed, rolling off him with an audible show of disappointment. He lifted himself up and gave Vegeta no opening to escape his subsequent sloppy assault on his mouth. Like being kissed by a big puppy. That he had the nerve to have that much joy and energy embedded into such an action, inspired Vegeta to summon the energy required to swat him away.

“Go away, I’m going back to sleep,” he claimed and threw a pillow into the side of his head with a swipe. Kakarot just grinned and finally slid off the mattress and made off for the bathroom to start his morning ritual. Unlike Vegeta, his morning ritual did not take him very long, but it was long enough for Vegeta to settle into the warm remnants of blankets and roll comfortably on to his side. The freshly made void in the bed made it more difficult to drift right back off than he cared for, but within a few minutes, he could close his eyes and just listen to the muted sound of the shower running.

The longer he listened, the less he focused on it, and he only realized that Kakarot was no longer in the bathroom, when he heard him back in the bedroom—rummaging through a drawer for his work related things. That stirred him a bit and he rolled over, not sitting up, but leaning on an arm to watch him in the dim light filtering out from the bathroom. In his stupid orange scrubs.

“Hn? I thought you went back to sleep?” Kakarot raised a brow at him, clipping his nametag to the front pocket. It no longer said Kakarot, but he’d be damned if he ever called this buffoon “Goku”. A legal name change didn’t alter the fact that it was Kakarot to him; and Kakarot didn’t seem to mind Vegeta’s refusal to change his habits. If anything, calling him anything else would probably be uncomfortable for them both.

“How can I, when you’re this fucking loud? I can hear your annoying attire in my sleep,” he gestured to him from collar to the edge of his vision and the endless sea of orange in his view—even if somewhat muted by the lack of light in the bedroom itself.

“I only wear them because I know you can’t stop looking at me, when I do.”

“Yes, out of disdain. I said I would buy you anything you wanted. How does the hospital staff not mistake you for someone directing traffic when you’re in that? If you’d let me dress you, you might actually look like a respectable person and not a goddamn clown.”

Kakarot slipped his phone into his pocket and wandered back over to the side of the bed, leaning right down to him. He was ready for work, but had that habit of prolonging his exit with his nonsense. “Oh c’mon, ‘Geta, if I let you dress me nicely, then you’d have nothing to complain about. You might find me really attractive and then wanna marry me on the spot. And then I won’t get to have any fun in tryin’a bully you into it.”

A noisy puff left Vegeta and he lifted a pillow to smack into the side of Kakarot’s head. This demon had no filters whatsoever and he continued to weaponize his shamelessness. He grabbed the other side of the pillow behind Kakarot’s head and pulled him down to him with it, to kiss this fool goodbye and shoo him away. If he was any bit more alert, he might have been more flustered by Kakarot’s comment; but Kakarot’s power was only maximized when he’d had full range of motion in his brain to over analyze and agonize over everything. Before his brain kicked on, his comment was just silly snark.

“Kakarot, don’t even kid, you just want the food that comes with the wedding reception,” he flicked him immediately after deciding he was done with his face.

“Listen, Bulma is on the top of my guest list. You know she’d totally bring the eats, Vegeta.”

“...Excuse you, why is my Ex-wife on the top of your guest list?”

“Because that’s weird if she’s on yours, and we’re besties. Listen, you know Bulma loves attention, I am totally willing to let her toast us both if she brings the bar. Also, honestly, I’ll let her have full go at the bar too before she toasts you, because I really wanna be there for what she’s gotta say about you.”

“If that’s how you plan to charm me into marrying you, then you’re going to die single.”

“Just like you said you were gonna charge me rent, huh?” Kakarot had him there. He should charge him a tolerance fee, instead; but Vegeta just didn’t care enough about it. They both knew that most of what came out of his mouth was blustering anyway. If he didn’t continue to do so, then it would be like disconnecting part of his personality.

Vegeta couldn’t exist with this man, without being a horrendous bastard in everything he said, “don’t you have to go wipe someone’s ass now?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, every asshole I come across, I’ll think of you.”

Kakarot’s near instant recoils always left Vegeta with a snarl, but he offered no attempt to bounce that one back again. Curling his nose and turning his back on him was enough dismissal. Briefly, he felt a hand on his back and immediately, he raised a hand from his side to give Kakarot a goodbye middle finger. He was going to be late if he didn’t get the hell out, but Vegeta was also going to get up and kick him if he kept being so sassy so damn early in the morning. He wouldn’t be awake if Kakarot hadn’t unwillfully trained him to be his alarm clock by sheer repetition.

A strong quiver struggled through his body when he abruptly suffered Kakarot’s last little gift before going—a big sloppy kiss to the edges of his ear, with a little tongue to make him squirm. Once he’d figured out he could make him jump, he never relented. Kakarot was a savage. How he was a Nurse was still a mystery. It had to be due to his ability to lift anything and smile at anyone, no matter how mean they were. Otherwise, Vegeta couldn’t fathom how this beast could escape Hell long enough to make it into the Nurse’s registry.

“See you tonight, I’ll pick up dinner when I’m off. I’ma hit the gym after work, so if you wanna meet up, lemme know. And catch some Z’s for me.”

“Fuck off and never speak to me again.”

“Okay, I’ll text you at lunch,” Kakarot’s voice showed zero indication that he took a single word Vegeta ever said to heart.

Perhaps that was why he was able to stay with him so easily. Kakarot understood Vegeta’s language was just coded and so far, only two people ever managed to get through his extremely complicated alphabet. Bulma just understood aspects of him that he, himself, hadn’t really cared to work around. Mainly because someone like Kakarot wasn’t supposed to ever come along. He had always been perfectly content with dying alone. Like the asocial cave dwelling troll people diagnosed him to be. If Kakarot hadn’t been such an overwhelming go-getter, maybe that would have been exactly the way it would have gone.

But Kakarot hated to lose, he’d come to realize. Seeing Vegeta being such a sour attitude was a challenge and Kakarot never stepped down from those. There was a reason Kakarot was the one who the hospital staff paged when they needed a nurse for particularly difficult patients. They sent in the one who actually liked putting up with insufferable assholes and Kakarot probably didn’t even know he was being used so readily as bait for calming down anyone who wanted to be fussy or mean to the gentler nurses. Who was really going to pick a fight with a nurse who looked like he could lift a car, but also had the personality of a bubbly marshmallow.

Vegeta was just the ultimate challenge to Kakarot, and it just so happened that Vegeta didn’t like to lose either; placing them in a perpetual standoff. It would just have to go on forever, he decided. He just had to come to the point where he would inform Kakarot that this battle was a permanent one.

With Kakarot gone off to work, the house was quiet again and Vegeta left the warmth of the bed temporarily. Water was the mission and then he was going to crawl right back in and try to get a few more hours of sleep in before his own work day started. The last thing he needed was to be yawning in the office because of his bantering at Kakarot in the wee hours of the morning. Sure, he could easily just keep sleeping and let the man quietly see himself out; but he felt compelled to combat with him every day. Vegeta had very few rituals that weren’t ridiculous, but he tried not to make them interrupt his functionality.

Sleeping in an empty bed had become harder than he cared admit, but he sat back on the edge of the bed with a glass in hand and conditioned his brain to consider it a nap instead. He wasn’t going to bed, just napping. He didn’t need that clown for a nap.

For a few minutes, he tinkered with his phone to set his alarms. He rarely needed them, but the possibility always existed that he could fall back into a deep sleep and end up overshooting the time. The alarms had yet to ever actually make a sound before he’d turn them off in advance, but taking chances wasn’t his game. If Kakarot was somehow punctual, despite his terrible morning adrenaline rush at the last minute; then he would arrive in a timely manner, comfortably.

He set the glass on the table beside the bed and put the phone on the charging pad beside it. Without much thought, he pulled the table’s drawer out. On his side of the bed, the contents of the drawer were organized neatly, and he could reach in and blindly grab and find exactly what he was looking for without much guessing. He knew Kakarot’s side was not nearly that tidy, but that worked out in his favor, as Kakarot’s love of chaos kept him from snooping around his carefully organized storage. There was just nothing interesting to pulling the drawer out and seeing everything all in plain sight. Kakarot enjoyed rummaging.

That meant that Kakarot would never snoop around and come across the small manilla folder in his hands. Tilting it in his hands, the weight shifted and the item within it slid right out into his palm. A long black chain spilled over his thumb and he caught it before it tumbled any further. Between his fingers a gray and black, thick band glinted a bit in the low light. Tungsten carbide, because Kakarot would break anything else. The subtle designs on it were enough to give it sophistication, but also kept it the kind of masculine that Vegeta had an appreciation for. While he made certain the ring was sized correctly, the heavy chain ensured that, as a medical associate, he could actually wear it without worrying about everything he’d get his hands into.

“If you think you’re going to bully me, Kakarot, you have another fucking thing coming,” he snorted, “you’ve had your victories, but the next one is mine.” Tipping the envelope back, he slipped the ring and chain right back in and folded it back over. He was just waiting for Kakarot to think he had the advantage again. He never got to see Kakarot completely backstep, but he was closing in on his moment. Bulma always said he was pedantic and obsessive, and she was absolutely right.

The little envelope got tucked right back into the drawer and he shut it away, getting back up to turn the one light back off. With darkness again, he could try to get some rest; a few more hours and then he’d catch up to Kakarot’s head start of the day.

He did find that sleep came a lot easier when he knew he had a least one victory tucked away.

Chapter Text

“Lord Beerus, is this really necessary? Would it not be best if we left them be?”

“Tch, as if you’re not marginally interested, yourself.” A tapping sound filled an otherwise silent exam room. Patience was not his strong point, particularly, but he had committed to seeing his curiosity sated. Some disappointment came with this discovery of where his favored pets had ended up, but he had very little room to complain given the circumstances. He had come to see the extent of their assimilation into their mundane lives. Such wasted potential...but possibly for the better, considering the conditions that led to them being in there—waiting for the nurse with the familiar face to come in for preliminary data.

“Hmm, well, I have been snooping around a little bit. I already know a fair bit. I know that Goku is usually sent to deal with the trouble making cases, Lord Beerus. I’m quite sure they paged him very quickly, when you gave that poor girl a bit of a fright.”

“When I tell someone I want something, Whis, then I better receive it, there are no exceptions. These mortals are lucky I let them continue to exist for their transgressions.”

“She does not have the faintest clue what you are, of course. And as you know, most humans do not probably consider the urgency of a warm blanket to be a life or death situation.” Whis, the more accommodating one of the two, remained poised beside this companion, casting his amused smile down.

“Mortals have no innate sense of self preservation.”

“Hm, perhaps not. Goku fits right in, here, if that’s the case, does he not?” A soft chuckle followed and Beerus’s tapping ceased in favor of folded arms and a scowl. There was some truth to Whis’s statement. Goku’s obliviousness was, in part, why—perhaps—it was better that it turned out the way it had.

“And what of the other one, hm? You have confirmed he was placed nearby as well?”

“Very close, in fact, I believe he has a facility within this same medical outlet. It won’t be very hard to find him, if you need to throw your back out and find a reason to seek new council, Lord Beerus. Perhaps, you could even get a doctor’s note for your excessive bed rest,” Whis teased, ignoring the scathing look from his companion.

“I have half a mind to erase them, for making me wait so long,” he growled in response, finding his patience dwindling with every passing moment. He had no actual reason for a doctor’s visit and his clear lack of emergency did not give the staff reason to place him very first on the list—which at his core, he understood, but as a God of Destruction, he was explosively insulted. How dare they not address his needs and concerns the moment he stepped in their presence? How dare they not intrinsically notice him for what he was?

Augh, mortals.

But, it was those mortals that they had come to spy on and so he continued to wait. Fortunately, that wait was not a great deal longer and the two of them heard a sturdy knock on the door, before a man in a loud set of orange scrubs stepped into the room.

“Whoops, sorry to keep you waiting. I was all the way on the other end of the hospital when they paged me. You’d think there’d be a straight shot over here, but getting through pediatrics means going through locked doors and the head nurse will definitely stop and ask you twenty questions on why you’re taking a shortcut through there,” the man paused, long enough to come over to the sink and assume a very practiced motion of washing his hands, turning his head to keep eye contact. His smile never tilted, even the slightest. “My name is Goku, I just gotta take a few vitals, write down some numbers, you know, all that fun stuff, so that when the doctor comes in, it’ll be easier for ya.

The sight was a bizarre one to the both of them, to see this face—this Son Goku—moving with the practiced ease of a professional. This person here was comfortable with this committed career, far removed from the knucklehead obsessed with fighting everything in his path until he was beaten down into a paste—only to get up and beg for more still. Whis could certainly identify Goku’s willingness to take a challenge out of the stubbornness in others, but he battled it in less self destroying and catastrophic ways. Still...not quite the direction Beerus and Whis had pictured when they set out to find them.

Goku reached for a few paper towels to dry his hands and a pair of gloves, so practiced that he barely looked where he was reaching to grab what he needed. Swiftly, he picked up the computer tablet that he’d set down to wash his hands—wiping the screen down and placing it on a stand across from where Beerus was sitting.

Beerus raised a brow, glancing up at Whis with a vague gesture of amusement. Goku had the capabilities to function his way through a computer with efficiency. What a wild concept. The Goku they had last known, had only just learned the concept of a phone and he was still more likely to forget he had it. He still had every ounce of his cheeky, bubbly personality and the lazy tone of voice that suggested he rolled right off of the countryside, but he was clearly much better blended into society as a whole.

Perhaps, that was what he needed to begin with, Lord Beerus.

I loathe to admit, that you might be right, but I am far less irritated within moments of his presence than he usually does me.

Well, he isn’t trying to challenge everything that breathes, what a difference that makes.

“Mr. Beerus, correct? Can you verify your name and birthday for me? Gotta make sure it’s you.” Goku went through with his required line of questions and Beerus was annoyed by them, but he knew they would be asked. Whis made up his information and he gave them as Whis invented. Everything from his age, his birthdate, to the extra names invented to fill out the forms, were invented to get him through the doors to see this fool without actually interrupting the natural order of his new life. What a bother. Even his appearance was a false one, an illusion placed over them to make him blend into the humans seamlessly. Both he and Whis merely looked like average people. Goku would have no chance of familiarity, even if the chance existed.

That was the entire idea.

“Alright, can I get a weight and height check from you real quick, Mr. Beerus?” Goku tapped on the tablet a few times and stepped away from it, to lead him over to a scale. Beerus, though wanting to be prickly, found himself more interested in seeing Goku in his new element. He was told, however, that Goku was usually sent to deal with difficult patients, and Beerus was known to be exactly that. Difficult.

“And just how long is all of this going to take, I have been waiting for quite a while and I can tell you my weight and height if that makes it quicker.”

“I mean, sure. Ya, could. But then ya might cheat a lil bit and make up numbers and that’s no fair. Then you forget what your real height is and the truth will crush you in the future. My partner kept using a taller number, but that didn’t make it true. And then the real number came along and we had to go get ice cream to soothe a butchered ego, despite a lot of I Told You So’s.”

Beside Beerus, Whis was chuckling. The way Goku spoke left so little room for Beerus to edge his antagonism back in after, that he watched him get up and walk over after the nurse stopped speaking. His exhausting habits definitely did remain, but in a refreshing new form. Earnest and for a much better cause. The manipulative nature Goku did, indeed have, wasn’t placing him and his Universe in danger anymore. Well, not unless he offended Beerus beyond reason. Though, Whis knew that Beerus held a soft spot for this fool, regardless of what he did and didn’t recall.

“Just step on after little beep, I’ll grab some numbers, and that’s it. No biggie at all. An’ if you really don’t wanna know, I won’t even tell you, an’ you can keep using whatever numbers you wanna, Mr. Beerus,” Goku grinned, pressing buttons on the machine to set the scale to zero. Beerus stepped on and Goku took his height while the machine calculated the weight.

The number blinked and Goku glanced down to collect the information, turning around to plug it into his tablet, but he double-took it almost immediately. The confusion was very evident on his face and Whis knew almost immediately why. He quietly crossed a leg over the other and scooted forward to lift the tail coming from Beerus that Goku could not see—lowering the readout on the scale to match a weight that wouldn’t be higher than a trained nurse might expect from a first glance at Beerus.

“Is something wrong?” Beerus asked, seeing his abrupt turn around. He connected Whis’s action and the response of the scale and played along with it as smoothly as he should, his tone impatient and annoyed as a difficult customer should be.

“Hm, doesn’t look like it, guess this one’s just delayin’ a bit. Weird, we just had it looked at for bein’ slow. For a second there I was wondering where you were hidin’ the bricks, Mr. Beerus. Or maybe it’s all the muscles you ain’t flexin’, right?”

Whis laughed, perhaps a little too directly, earning something of cornered glare from his companion. Somehow, Goku’s very casual manner of speech was effective for what he was doing. Perhaps, Goku was much better at reading others than he was ever given credit for, or maybe he was just very lucky that the words that came out of his mouth didn’t get complaints filed on him. Beerus could easily get him in trouble here in his new boring mortal career for his flippancy, but that would only be out of personal spite and not out of personal offense.

Whis knew that Beerus’s offense was at everything in general, not this interaction.

“If you’ll take a seat for me, real quick, I gotta get your blood pressure, temperature and pulse ox. All quick stuff, don’t worry. I can do that all at the same time.”

Goku wheeled a cart over to them and Beerus scowled a little, but played along. None of what they were doing here would matter much anyway. Honestly, once Goku left the room, they were going to vanish like they were never there. They would never actually make it to be seen by the doctor himself and Goku would be left to wonder why his patient just vanished without a trace. But until then, he let the former martial artist continue to do his job and he held his arm out for the cuff that the man wrapped just above his elbow. On the other hand, Goku placed some kind of monitor on his finger that took other readings while operating the blood pressure cuff and prompting him to hold the thermometer under his tongue. He was correct in being able to do it all at once. Very efficient.

These recordings took hardly any time for Goku to take back to his tablet, tapping them in with a stylus he had tucked in his pocket—to make it easier than trying to do so with such large hands. Watching him do so, provided an easy conversational opening for Whis.

“So, Goku, you certainly are quite built for a nurse. I must say, I wasn’t expecting someone who looked like they belong in the WWE to be tending to Beerus.” Curiosity on whether or not Goku did participate in any sort of martial art was definitely still present and if Beerus wasn’t going to ask it, then he would simply as for him.

“Ah, yeah, I get that a lot, haha. But the girls appreciate that I can lift patients without hurtin’ anyone. I used to go to martial arts tournaments when I was younger, but I don’t do that much anymore.” Goku looked up briefly, in between tapping on the screen. Clearly, he was not difficult to strike a conversation up with; this man had not changed much from before. Goku would chat with anyone as if they had already been a friend forever.

Beerus asked the next question this time, “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because if I get myself injured as bad as the last time, my partner won’t let me ever hear the end of it,” he laughed. “Besides, I like this. I meet all sortsa people.”

Whis smiled, nudging Beerus. What a shift in tone and somewhat jarring to hear from his mouth. However, he suspected that Goku wasn’t entirely lost from the battle hungry person he was before; the battlefield just became something different. “So, your wife didn’t care for your hobby fighting?”

Goku stopped tapping momentarily and looked up, eyes shifting from the screen to Whis. The response he made was one of confusion and then immediately he appeared unsure of how to respond, pausing before he finally answered him. “I...I don’t have a wife. But if I did, I’m really sure she wouldn’t be into that anyway. Most wives don’t seem to be, based on some of the injuries I patch up and the terrified wives that come in with their husbands.”

When Goku turned his attention back away, the two of them briefly exchanged looks where Goku could not immediately see. That was certainly not the answer they were expecting. Just a little hint of a smile felt its way coming through, and Whis placed his hands in his lap and shifted—making himself appear as inoffensive as possible. “I apologize, I made an assumption. Which is really terrible of me, of all people. You mentioned partner and I defaulted.”

Beerus gave him the flattest look he’d ever delivered, but Whis had an endgame if he was doing this. “Yes, unusually non-progressive of you, Whis.”

Their bantering seemed shine him right back up. His bright smile was wider and any concerns he’d said too much flew right out the window. He continued between filling out his chart and chatting with them, until the knock on the door. With a glance at his watch, he looked up, confused.

“Huh, the doctor shouldn’t be here yet, I haven’t handed over my chart yet, hold on a sec,” he excused himself and stepped toward the door, opening it to be greeted by a nurse in pink scrubs and stethoscope in hand. Her expression told everything—even if Beerus and Whis didn’t already know what this woman’s personality was already like. Unexpectedly, they’d come to find out the fate of another on their short quest.

“And just how are you supposed to treat your patients when you forget your things in my ward, Goku?”

“...Hey Chi Chi…Whoops, I was in a hurry...I was tryin’ not to make my patient wait, but thanks for bringin’ it to me…” He bowed to her and she retaliated by clamping the arms of the device down on his head, eliciting a little yelp. “Sorry—”

Chi Chi put her hands on her hips, watching him clap his hands together and continue to ask her to forgive his messy behavior. Only after a few moments, did she glance in and notice Whis and Beerus. Immediately she was making the same motions of apology. It was almost cute in its mirroring. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—Goku, you know you’re supposed to mention you’re with a patient—” she hissed quietly to him, and then turned back to them. “I’m very sorry. I’ll be going now, please have a pleasant day,” she bowed again, eyes quickly back to Goku one last time, ‘you come see me later.”

“...Thanks again, Chi Chi,” he waved again, voice smaller than his large presence would ever suggest. He closed the door once she stepped away and brought the stethoscope off his head, letting it hang around his neck. “I apologize…”

“No, it’s quite alright. You need that, do you not? She merely made it so you didn’t have to go searching.”

“What kind of nurse is so ill-prepared,” Beerus started, mustering up the kind of tone that indicated he was displeased by something. He was not displeased by anything, presently.The longer he kept Goku messing around, the better. That was the only reason they were there, after all. The desire to know what happened in the aftermath of Zeno’s reset.

“Now, now, Beerus, he did say he had been coming from the other end of the hospital,” Whis played along, having to catch himself from prefacing his name with Lord out of habit.

“You’re telling me a man with legs like these can’t run faster than that?”

“You shouldn’t run in a hospital,” both Goku and Whis responded to Beerus in the same tone, finding some great amusement in their agreeability of Beerus’s lack of hospital courtesy.

“Hospitals sound horrendously dull,” Beerus grunted and leaned back when Goku approached him to listen to his breathing with the equipment Chi Chi delivered to him. No resistance was offered. Goku was a nurse, he wasn’t trained to diagnose or assign treatments, but he could record what he did hear and report his findings. Anything he could do, he did and filed it all away to be seen to by the attending physician.

“Well, it looks like I have you all ready for the doctor. If there’s any other details you may have, you’ll be able to go over with him. You can also page me, if you need anything right away. It shouldn’t be too long, though.” Goku stripped his gloves off, tossing them and going right back to the forced habit of handwashing as he prepared to leave them and take his chart back to the Nurse’s station, where the doctor would pick it up.

“Thank you for your pleasant company Goku,” Whis offered, were Beerus wouldn’t.

“Ah, pleasure’s mine, I almost felt like I knew you guys already.”

In a way, Goku had, he just didn’t really know it; and that was how it was going to stay. Beerus’s need to see it was perfectly satisfied. Some disappointment came with the loss of such promising power, but that promising power had come with far too many downsides and ultimately, the downsides had been at the cost of the individuals obsessed with the power itself. Missing that, they actually functioned like normal people. At least, Goku seemed to, they still had to seek out Vegeta and witness his transformation into regular society. However, Whis had gotten an impression…

“Oh, that’s a nice ring you have there, Goku,” Whis caught the chain on Goku’s neck, when he leaned to toss the paper towels away. From it, dangled a heavy black ring with grey patterns and a hint of silver on its edges that made it glint a little bit. “From your partner I presume?”

Goku smiled, “yep. It’s his one victory. He don’t win much.”

“Well, tell him he’s very lucky. You are very delightful, and I wish you the very best, Goku.”

“Same to you Mr. Whis. And you make sure that Mr. Beerus keeps on flexin’,” he smirked a bit. Whis tilted his head to watch Beerus’s expressions shift wildly. Goku was just far too ridiculous in every form, but at least he didn’t have the ability to go an be this flippant with Gods anymore. That he knew of anyway.

“Tch, hurry up, I want to see this doctor already,” Beerus shooed him away and Goku waved, slipping out of the room just a moment after—leaving the two of them alone in the aftermath of a noisy nurse, who used to have power to rival some gods.

Once sure they were alone, Beerus leaned back into the chair and folded his arms.

“So, how do you feel about this, Lord Beerus, now that you’ve seen it up close?”

“Not as if I have any real say or right to make a complaint on Lord Zeno’s decision. He easily could have just left us all erased and that be it. But, I think perhaps losing was...for the better for them. Maybe. Maybe not for the better of my blood pressure at the time,” Beerus made a face and Whis turned a little snicker over to him.

“You certainly could have used a nurse then, now couldn’t you?”

“Oh shut up. You know what I’m saying...Had they won, I don’t think anything would have changed for either of them. Especially not Goku. That fool didn’t learn any lessons at any point in the time I knew him and at one point I’d deeply considered having to erase him myself for his recklessness...This is simply the better turnout. As much of a let down as it is for their potential.”

“My my, Lord Beerus...so many responsible words coming from you...But I agree. Now...shall we go see Vegeta before we go...and see if he’s got a matching ring?”

“Alright, but...honestly, this part of the outcome could have happened before the reset and no one would have been surprised.”

Without another word, the two bodies vanished and left the room empty.

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