Work Text:
“I’m home!” Goten calls out, toeing his shoes off at the door. Gohan walks into the foyer from the kitchen. “Welcome home. Oh, hello.” He inclines his head towards Trunks.
“Uh, hi.”
“Oh, Goten!” A fourth voice chimes in, cheerful. Goku emerges from the hallway, a towel draped around his neck. “Who’s this?”
“This is Trunks, my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend? You kids sure move fast,” Gohan teases, earning a petulant, “You’re still a kid too,” from Goten. He ignores it in favor of turning to Trunks. “Nice to meet you, I’m Son Gohan.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” Trunks returns.
The bright smile on Goku’s face widens, and he holds out a hand. “Hi, Trunks! I’m Goku!” Despite himself, Trunks takes the hand offered and shakes it firmly. “Hello, Goku-san.” The jovial man waves his words away with a chuckle. “Just call me Goku! Are ya joining us for dinner?”
Trunks looks to Goten, unsure, but he just gets an enthusiastic nod. “Ya really should," Goku follows. "Gohan’s cooking is not something y’wanna miss.”
“Then I will. Thanks.”
“Awesome! You’re just in time, too, food’s just ‘bout ready.”
They all help to get the table set up and the food brought out. The second they all touch the seat, "Thanks for the meal!" rings out and then there are four pairs of arms digging into the meal before them.
“This is good,” Trunks says appreciatively. Gohan smiles. “Thank you.”
“Dad cooks too, but Gohan-nii is better,” Goten informs his boyfriend matter-of-factly. Goku just laughs. “Can’t argue with that.”
“That sounds nice. My dad’s always super busy and my mom doesn’t live at home, so the maid usually cooks for me, if I don’t eat out,” Trunks says.
“Why doesn’t your mom live at home? If you don’t mind saying,” Gohan queries.
“Nah, I don’t. My parents never married, they just had me. My mom lived there for a little, but she recently moved in with her new boyfriend.”
“So what does your dad do, that he’s gone from home so often?” Goku asks.
“I’m pretty sure he’s a CEO. Nobody tells me what else he does.”
“He sounds pretty important then.”
“I guess so, since I hardly see him. It’s why I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to introduce Goten to him.”
“Well, ya should invite him here! We could make a whole dinner outta it.”
Trunks ponders that. “That… might work. I’ll ask him.”
The rest of the dinner proceeds enjoyably, conversation flowing comfortably. When it’s time for Trunks to leave, he’s picked up by a sleek black Rolls Royce. A dapper gentleman dismounts from the driver’s seat to come around and open the back door for him. He leaves with a wave and a promise to return.
Lying in bed that night, Goku holds a picture with the four of them. Goten was still a baby in this photo; Gohan, an adorable four year old. Goku smiles wistfully at it. “Hey Chi, Goten brought home his boyfriend today. He’s a cool kid, and Goten seems to really like him. I think- I think ya’d like him a lot, too.”
Radio silence greets him as usual, as it had been for the past seven years. He falls asleep with the frame resting right above his heart, his dreams conjuring up a life he didn’t have anymore.
Trunks comes over nearly every day, which really isn’t a surprise, especially considering what he had said about his home life. And in any case, Goku doesn’t mind. He’s off at his construction job during the day anyway, so it’s nice returning to a home livelier than usual.
The kid is friendly and relaxed, interacting with both Gohan and him with ease. He likes to act cool a lot, like he’s unfazed, but Goku can tell the kid just wants company other than the adults who take care of him. But what Goku likes most of all, is how he treats Goten. They act just like best friends, aside from the gentleness with which they touch each other.
A month passes by until Trunks can finally say that his dad was free today and was planning on heading over for dinner. Goku had already forgotten he had made that suggestion, but at least it’s convenient that it happens to be an off day for him. He decides to make dinner because it wouldn’t do for the man to see Goten as not worthy to date his son, because he thought Goku was incompetent.
And certainly not if he was some sort of hotshot business mogul.
Goku’s putting the finishing touches on the food, the soup simmering on the stove so it stays warm, when the doorbell rings. Goku walks to the door and swings it open, immediately freezing in his tracks. Whatever greeting had been on his tongue just… disappears.
Standing on the doorstep of his modest townhouse is the literal definition of perfection, in Goku’s humble opinion. The man in front of him is striking in a burgundy suit and sharp, black shoes. He’s shorter than Goku by maybe a head, but that hardly matters because he holds himself high. A regal air surrounds him. His facial features are rigid and might be considered harsh to some, but by the gods, if he isn’t handsome as all hell.
Forget CEO; this man looks and feels like royalty.
Goku’s nerves are so on edge; he feels hyper-aware of everything suddenly. His whole body feels clammy. It’s been so long, it almost takes him a while to realize what he’s feeling.
Was he really acting like a school kid with a crush, in front of this stranger?
Apparently, yes he was.
“Am I correct in assuming you are Son Goku?” The man’s voice is low in tone, and sounds like what Goku imagines really expensive velvet is like. Or is it silk? Either way, it was nice. “U-uhh… ye- yeah. Yeah, that’s me.”
Goku wishes the ground would just cave in below him so he doesn’t have to deal with the mortification of being unable to answer to his own name properly, for fuck’s sake. “Vegeta. Trunks’ father.” The handsome man extends a hand, and Goku wipes his hands on his… apron-
Oh my god.
His face feels like it’s on fucking fire. He shakes Vegeta’s hand, a myriad of thoughts whizzing around in his mind. If his hand was sweaty, if he smelled like food, if Vegeta noticed the giant, curling font on the front of his apron that read Kiss the Cook, a gift he had gotten Chichi when they had first gotten married.
He had thought it was cute at the time, but now he’s acutely aware of how utterly ridiculous he no doubt looks.
“N-n-nice to meet ya.” Goku focuses intently on his next words so he doesn’t stutter. “Uh, c’mon in.” He steps aside so Vegeta can walk in. “S-sorry, it’s kinda small.”
Dammit, he was doing well for a second there.
“It is quite homey, actually.” Vegeta slips out of his shoes and lays them neatly off to the side where the other shoes are. Before Goku can fumble with conversation for much longer, Trunks basically launches himself into the foyer from the living room, pulling Goten behind him. “Papa! This is my boyfriend.”
Goten bows. “Hello, sir. I’m Son Goten.”
Vegeta inclines his head. “Now I can put a face to the name I’ve been hearing about. I’m told Trunks spends a lot of his time here. I hope he hasn’t given you trouble.”
“Naw, don’t worry ‘bout it! He’s a good kid, we like having him around!” Goku chimes in, proud that he didn’t stutter once.
But then Vegeta turns his gaze to him, and Goku has to swallow down the thoroughly unmanly eep that nearly bursts out of him. He’s also reminded of his current attire, and even though technically Vegeta is the odd one here, with his suit and tie getup, it’s Goku who feels out of place.
“I-I’ll, uh, gotta- gotta change real quick. Be right back.” His feet couldn’t take him away from there fast enough.
When he makes it back out, the four are already sitting around the table. Goku straightens the button down he had dug through his closet to find, still feeling severely underdressed in his jeans when he lays eyes on Vegeta again.
Gohan’s taken a seat at the head of the table, forcing him to sit next to Vegeta. “Sorry I’m late.” He resigns himself to his fate, sitting down awkwardly. The side that Vegeta is on instantly feels ten times hotter than his other side.
They dig in, and Goku almost drops his utensil when Vegeta says, “Who made this?”
“Dad did,” Gohan answers him. Vegeta turns to Goku then, who suddenly finds his food the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, inspecting every spoonful. “This is quite good.” Goku thinks he’s imagining the impressed tone in Vegeta’s voice and he’s certainly not about to turn to find out.
He swallows his current mouthful of food before replying, “Thanks! Gohan’s a better cook than me, though.” He schools his voice into not quivering. Why the fuck is this happening? He’s a grown-ass man!
Yet no matter how many times he tells himself that, it doesn’t change the fact that his nerves feel like they’re going crazy underneath his skin. It doesn’t change the fact that he can hear his heart pounding in his ears, in his fingertips, at his feet. Nor does it change the fact that at some point, he’s started eating on automatic because the butterflies flitting around in his stomach are making it difficult to eat.
A shit-eating voice sounding suspiciously like Yamcha, echoes in his head. You’ve got it bad.
And the worst part is the fact that he’s getting all flustered for nothing. There was no way someone as accomplished and put together as Vegeta would ever be interested in someone like Goku. The only thing he had to show for his life as a minimum wage employee, and now a slightly-higher-wage employee, was the fact that at the very least, he and his kids weren’t homeless or starving, and had a decent connection to the outside world.
So, the basic fucking necessities.
Goku may be generally idealistic, but he also understood how reality worked.
“Dad!” Goku snaps out of his thoughts to find all four of them looking at him. Gohan, the one who had called him, looks worried. Goten and Trunks are grinning at him in a really weird way. Vegeta has an unreadable expression on his face. Goku doesn’t try to read it.
“Why’d y’call me?” He turns back to Gohan instead. “Vegeta-san was asking you what work you do, but you weren’t answering. Are you feeling okay?”
“O-Of course I am! Never better!” He straightens, forcing a grin on his face. He doesn’t feel shame often, and especially not about who he is, but he feels it now when thinking about having to tell Vegeta what he did for a living.
“I, uh, I’m a construction worker.” He tries to keep his tone light, but he’s not sure how well he succeeds.
He does turn to Vegeta when he says this, even if just to gauge his reaction. He still can’t read it. “Hm, interesting.” He can’t read that either.
Goku admires how utterly opaque Vegeta is, or at least, can make himself be. Chichi always told him that he wore his heart on his sleeve, and he’s never been able not to. He had accepted that fact about himself, and it hadn’t ever been something that stressed him out.
Until now.
A loud clink! resounds throughout the room as Goku’s fork hits his now-empty plate. He exhales a nervous laugh. “S-sorry ‘bout that.” He doesn’t feel particularly hungry anymore, but he’d feel more comfortable having something to do.
He almost reaches over to grab the mashed potatoes, but that would go right over Vegeta’s food and he’s already cringing from the embarrassment that would no doubt cause him. “Goten, can y’pass the potatoes?” Goten does, but it’s still a bit of a reach for the boy, so Vegeta intercepts it before Goku can grab it.
The other man passes it to him and Goku’s heart jumps to his throat when he almost drops it, his palms suddenly feeling sweaty. He fumbles with it, but manages to steady the nice ceramic serving dish in his hands. Another awkward laugh bubbles out of him, though it’s hardly more than a shaky exhale. Gohan is giving him a weird look now. Goten and Trunks both seem like they’re trying not to laugh (not very successfully, he might add).
He can’t wait for this dinner to be over.
When it finally finishes, Goku gets up, fully intent on grabbing everyone’s empty plates and hiding away in the kitchen. Unfortunately for him, Gohan beats him to it.
This leaves him standing in front of the door with Vegeta, Trunks, and Goten. "Go play for a bit, kids. I want to talk to Goku alone."
Rats. There went Goku's plan to beeline it to his room.
With matching grins Goku refuses to acknowledge, Trunks and Goten run to the living room, and soon it’s filled with excited yelling over video-game music.
Vegeta fixes Goku with an impassive stare, and it takes everything in him not to fidget nervously.
“You’re interested in me, aren’t you.”
Christ, he could at least have given a warning. Vegeta didn’t even bother making it sound like a question.
Not for the first time, Goku wishes the earth would swallow him up right this instant. His wish is never granted. He’s absolutely certain his face and neck blend in with his red shirt. Goku doesn’t know what to say, and he’s not even sure if he can say anything. He opens his mouth, closes it. Almost opens it again, but he doesn’t wanna look like a fish out of water.
If there were butterflies before, now they’re super butterflies, or something, because the anxious feeling in his belly increases tenfold. He feels simultaneously too warm and too cold.
Should he lie? Apologize? Make a joke?
He’s saved from having to do either when suddenly, Vegeta’s expression relaxes. Goku might be imagining the twinkle in his eye. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls a card out of his wallet. From his other pocket, he produces a pen, handing both of them to Goku.
“Write your phone number on the back of this card.”
Excuse me? Goku listens anyway (because duh), but holy shit, is he dreaming?
“I’ll contact you to get coffee sometime. We can get to know each other better.”
“O- Okay.” In his disbelief, this is the last thing he utters, even as they see Trunks and Vegeta off.
In bed, he curls around their family picture. “I met a guy today. The father of Goten’s boyfriend, no less. Imagine that.” He chuckles softly. “He’s super handsome, super cool, and he makes me feel how- how, ya made me feel. He invited me to go out for coffee sometime. Is that okay? I still- still love ya, of course, but I think… something good might come of this. I hope that’s okay.”
The emotional exhaustion finally catches up to him then, pulling his eyelids slowly shut. “G’night, Chi,” he murmurs before succumbing to the lure of sleep.
Vegeta’s invitation to coffee doesn’t come until exactly three weeks after that fateful first encounter. Not that Goku’s counting, of course. And he certainly hasn’t been checking his phone every five minutes, wondering if maybe he should have gotten Vegeta’s number too.
On his break, is when the long-awaited message arrives.
From: Unknown Number
This is Vegeta.
To: Vegeta
Hey!
From: Vegeta
Have you heard of the Turtle House Coffee Shop?
To: Vegeta
No can’t say i have
From: Vegeta
Then that’s where we’ll go. Are you free today at 17:30?
To: Vegeta
Yes sir :)
From: Vegeta
Meet me here at that time. See you then.
To: Vegeta
See ya!
Goku never thought he’d be one to think that texting was so much more comfortable than talking in person. Still, he looks forward to the date, going throughout the rest of his work day feeling like he’s hovering over the ground.
Their meeting time allows him to shower and change into something other than his grimy work clothes, and a good thing too, because when he arrives at the café he’s supposed to meet Vegeta at, the other man is in a crisp, business suit. Goku is in olive green pants and a plain white shirt underneath a black and orange bomber jacket, and while he still feels nowhere near as sophisticated as Vegeta, at least he doesn’t feel like he could be the employee who brings Vegeta his coffee.
Now that his interest is out in the open, Goku sheds a lot of his nervousness about the whole thing. However, he does have to give credit to Vegeta for helping him with that by not being as uptight as he initially seemed.
Vegeta introduces him to a peppermint mocha frappuccino, and while Goku doesn’t get any added espresso shots like Vegeta does, he still marvels at the idea that someone as stern-looking as Vegeta would drink something so sweet. Thanks to Vegeta and the peppermint mocha, Goku thinks he’ll have to get coffee more often.
Vegeta is also really good at holding casual conversation. They toe a comfortable line between banter and flirting, and it’s really fun.
Goku also learns that they have a lot more in common than previously thought. When Vegeta isn’t working, he’s working out, and one of his favorite things to do is martial arts. They have an extensive conversation on martial arts styles, its history, and their favorite gyms, a friendly atmosphere draping itself around the two of them. Vegeta’s other hobby is eating, and like Goku, he’s not a picky eater. Unlike Goku, though, Vegeta has tried a lot more delicacies than Goku has ever even heard of.
Still, despite the vast economic difference between them, Goku finds that hanging out with Vegeta is immensely enjoyable.
Their first coffee date turns into two, then three, four, five.
With the more basic topics out of the way, Goku learns about Vegeta’s life.
How he had actually been abandoned by his parents in front of an orphanage. How he had run away when he was ten, unwilling to further endure the abusive environment. How Dr. Briefs had found him shivering on a park bench, and had taken him home, and how Vegeta had grown up there, and learned the art of running a business from the Doctor.
And how he hadn’t ever really felt like a “part of the family”, but he had felt an attraction to the Briefs’ youngest daughter, who was his age. The attraction turned out to be mutual, so they have a night of passion leading to the conception of Trunks. Just a single night, though. Their decision to jointly take care of their son, yet not actually be exclusive, had also been mutual.
It certainly isn’t a typical relationship, but Goku likes that Vegeta isn’t a typical person.
Vegeta also inquires after his own life, and as is only fair, Goku indulges him. He talks mostly about his late wife, the most present person during most of his life, especially after his parents and brother had died in a car accident when he was a teen.
He talks about the person she was: headstrong, fiercely independent, and tough as nails. He also tells Vegeta of that fateful day, when the cancer she'd been fighting forced her body to submission, but how it couldn't touch her soul.
As he reminisces, Goku does wonder briefly, if all his talk about her is too much, but his worries are unfounded. Vegeta listens intently, and even expresses sympathy.
They talk a lot about their kids, too, and Goku discovers that Vegeta loves Trunks more than he’s willing to let on, being the main reason Vegeta works so hard in the first place.
All in all, not only is Vegeta handsome, smart and successful, but he’s witty and charming, and had a brusque honesty Goku admired.
And he was into the same things Goku was into? As far as Goku was concerned, he's perfect.
When Vegeta tells him that for their sixth date, it’ll be a proper dinner date, Goku is over the moon and utterly, and completely, in love.
Gohan offers to babysit both Trunks and Goten so Vegeta and Goku can go on their date. When Goku asks how Gohan feels about him moving on, his oldest smiles, giving him a hug. “You’ve held onto mom for seven years. It’s about time you chased your own happiness, too. I’m sure she would say the same thing.”
With those gentle words ㅡ and much too enthusiastic encouragement from Goten and Trunks ㅡ Goku does something he hardly ever does: buy new clothes.
He looks at himself in the mirror on that much anticipated afternoon, folding the sleeves up to slightly below his elbows on the long, white button-down he had tucked into black pants. Seeing his own reflection is an odd sight. He doesn’t think he looks bad, but he also doesn’t know if he can trust his own judgment.
Luckily, he can count on his sons and Trunks. He walks out into the living room and is greeted by their cheers. "My dad's gonna lose his mind when he sees you, Uncle," Trunks tells Goku with confidence.
Goku runs a shaky hand through his hair, the only thing he definitely can’t tame, putting a smile on his face that is just as shaky. “Thanks.” He wishes he could feel as confident about that as Trunks does.
The doorbell rings. Goku jumps, staring at it apprehensively. He takes a few deep breaths before striding over and opening the door quickly, giving no time to second guessing. Vegeta wears a navy blue dress shirt that fits snugly around his frame. It's paired with dark gray slacks, a leather brown belt and black, leather dress shoes, all that look crazy expensive.
But Goku hardly gives a thought to that because holy hell he’s beautiful. He knows he should compliment Vegeta, tell him how good he looks, but nothing comes out of his mouth.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.” Vegeta beats him to it. Goku’s eyes snap to Vegeta’s in surprise. He searches them, trying to find deception in any capacity.
He finds none.
Vegeta’s dark eyes show sincerity. Or at least Goku hopes they do. Half of him is still suspended in disbelief that this is happening at all.
“Thank-” He clears his throat. “Thank you. Y'look… really handsome.” The understatement of the century.
“Shall we go?”
“Yeah.” Goku looks back as he steps out. The three boys give him a thumbs up. And then the door shuts behind him, and it’s just him and Vegeta. There was no running away now.
“I wondered whether to drive us or have my driver take us, but since the restaurant isn’t that far from us, I thought we might walk the way there. If you would rather drive though, I can call for my driver right now.”
Inwardly, Goku sighs in relief.
“No, I’d prefer walking, to be honest,” he admits sheepishly. Vegeta gives him a small smile that he mentally bottles up and saves for later.
The walk is infinitely more comfortable than what Goku imagines a posh car ride to be. The distraction from the outside world keeps him from being too caught up in his own head and his anxieties about the date. They talk idly about what they’ve been up to, though most of it is centered around their current fitness accomplishments and further goals.
It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about something he feels so passionately about.
Not that his friends weren’t good company, but they tended to be more interested in having conversations about the women they meet at the gym.
“It’s nice talking about something other than business, for once,” Vegeta says, and Goku is nearly floored at the child-like giddiness of oh my god we’re thinking the same thing that bursts in his head.
“Life of a businessman, huh?” Goku does his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. Vegeta rolls his eyes. “Tell me about it. All anyone around me does is talk about stats, the rise and fall of the stock market, blah blah blah. After a while, it just makes your head hurt.”
“Maybe y’should become a construction worker,” Goku replies jokingly. “Then it’d be ‘bout the latest sports game or the newest bar that just opened or how much they wish they were anywhere but here.”
He lets out a chuckle at the way Vegeta’s face scrunches. “That sounds just as bad. But, I’m sure I could endure it if I worked with you.” Vegeta says easily, winking at Goku.
How did breathing work again?
“Or maybe you should come work for me,” Vegeta adds, a twinkle in his eye. That makes Goku laugh out loud. “I think ya wouldn’t have a business after that.”
When he turns to Vegeta and sees the admiration on his face, his laugh falls off the tip of his tongue. “You should really laugh like that more often.”
Goku is catapulted back to the days of blushing faces and pounding hearts. He feels like a teenager again, giddy over a simple compliment. He doesn’t know what to say except let out an awkward, “Aha! ”
Maybe there is a god after all, because it is at that moment where Vegeta says, “Oh, it’s right here.”
Goku turns to where Vegeta is looking. His jaw falls to the floor at the same time his heart drops to his feet.
Getting lucky enough to find a house for a decent price near the downtown area meant mingling with people of all sorts of economic backgrounds.
The restaurant Vegeta had taken him to was new and construction had just been completed a few weeks ago. Goku remembers walking past it often on his way to pick up some take out on the days neither he nor Gohan could make food. Word on the street was that it was to be some bougie place, complete with full-course meal plans, but it was supposed to be even more expensive, because they wouldn’t just be tiny, “serving size” portions.
It certainly seems like that’s the case. The outside is fairly simple, but the exterior, the name sign, and even the doors were gilded. The people milling around, no doubt waiting to be let in, are all dressed to the nines, talking about things Goku considers “rich people speak”.
Vegeta marches right up to the well-dressed man at the door, who gives them a polite smile that never reaches his eyes. “Do you have a reservation, sir? ” The man says this in English, something Goku notices only from his vague memories of learning it in high school and college.
“For Vegeta Briefs."
The man scans the list in front of him. “Ah, yes. For two, correct? This way.”
Vegeta follows without hesitation, leaving Goku no choice but to do the same, especially since he has no idea what the man is saying.
The inside is even more extravagant. Even in the dimly lit space, Goku can tell there isn’t a single thing in here that didn’t cost at least several hundred dollars. He catches a glimpse of the bottles behind the bar, and though he isn’t an alcohol connoisseur, he knows enough to know there was none of that cheap shit here.
Their table is a booth tucked away in a back corner, which Goku is at least grateful for. All these people looked like even the air that they breathed was a different type of oxygen, Vegeta included. He felt as though everyone could tell he was the only thing that didn’t belong.
Taking a seat diminishes a lot of the comfort from being hidden, however.
Not because the seats weren’t comfortable. But because they felt like he shouldn’t even be sitting on them. They’re soft and pristine and Goku bets a single one costs as much as most of the furniture in his house combined.
Even the fucking napkins on the table have gold lining the edges. Who needed gold on the napkins?
When the host leaves, Vegeta has already picked up the menu, so Goku figures the safest bet is to follow what he does. He picks up his own menu. “Why aren’t there any prices?” He mutters in disbelief, mostly to himself.
Vegeta hears it. “We pay per full-course meal. These are the chef’s choices for today.”
An embarrassed flush spreads over Goku’s face and neck. “Oh. Okay.”
A waiter stops in front of their table. “Can I get you started with some drinks?" As Goku digs through his English class memories for what the waiter just said, Vegeta says, “We’ll have a bottle of Domaine Leroy Aux Brulees."
What?
The waiter seems to understand. He nods once. “Very good choice, sir. And would you like your hors d'oeuvres right now with that?"
“Do you like caviar?” Vegeta turns to Goku. “U-uh. Yes?” What the fuck is caviar?
“Then we’ll take the caviar and crème fraîche tartlets." He gives up trying to figure it out, and instead focuses on how sexy Vegeta sounds speaking in a different language.
“Very good, sir. I will return with that."
Still, when the waiter leaves, Goku exhales quietly in relief. Vegeta watches him in mild amusement. “Are you doing okay?” He never thought he’d be so happy to hear his native language.
“Yeah.” A hand comes up to rub at the back of his head, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. “Just- new to, this,” he says with a gesture around. “H-how, ahem, how did you learn English and- what language were the other things in?”
“French. Dr. Briefs was the one who started my learning. He told me it was a necessity if I ever wanted to manage any sort of successful business, and he was right. Overseas contacts, especially in Western countries, are integral.”
“O-Oh. Sounds… complicated.”
“It was. But I’ve been learning it for so long, it comes easier to me now.”
“That’s really cool.” Was there anything Vegeta couldn’t do? “I don’t even speak Japanese well, and it’s the only language I can speak.”
Vegeta’s answering laugh is what finally, finally, helps him relax. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got me now.”
Goku hopes the dark ambience hides the blush on his face.
When the waiter comes back, he’s holding a bottle in one hand, a plate in the other. “Your wine and appetizer, sir." He pops the cork and pours some into the flutes sitting in front of them, setting the bottle and the plate down on the table once he’s finished.
“Would you like to make your selections for the meal now?" Goku doesn’t even bother looking at him, just focuses on Vegeta, waiting for his cue.
“Have you decided?” Vegeta asks him. “I’ll just... get whatever ya get.” He refused to look like an idiot because he didn’t know what any of this meant.
“Alright. For appetizers, we’ll have the Oysters Rockefeller. Main course, Peppercorn-crusted Short Ribs with saffron rice. And for dessert, tiramisu. Two servings of each."
“Certainly." The waiter takes their menus and bows out.
Then, the reality of where he is hits Goku. He can’t pay for anything here. “A-actually, do ya think they have fries, or- or somethin’?”
Vegeta waves his question away. “Nonsense. You aren’t just going to eat fries.”
“B-but-”
“I got it. I asked you out on a date and picked the place. Don’t worry your pretty little head about the cost.”
Both the compliment and the way Vegeta’s expression leaves no room for argument is what makes Goku concede, albeit reluctantly. Vegeta picks up his wine glass and lifts it up towards Goku. He does the same.
“To a fantastic night with a wonderful person.” Goku blushes again, gently touching his glass to Vegeta’s. “Yeah, likewise.”
Goku doesn’t have wine often, but he’s had enough cheap wine to know that this stuff is leagues above that.
As they munch on the starters while waiting for their food, Goku tries to put aside the feeling of being out of place and enjoy the date. Vegeta helps a lot with that. He holds a steady conversation, cracks jokes about the place and the company, which serves to help Goku ignore everything else that reminds him, screams at him, that he didn’t belong.
With the arrival of their food and the ingestion of more wine, it gets easier to ignore.
By the time dessert has arrived, Goku has all but forgotten about where he is and how much it cost to get here. His energy decides it’s going to put all its focus on the man in front of him.
It’s been years since Goku has had this much fun. Granted, he hadn’t really let himself experience something like this in years, but he’s glad that the time he decided to start again, it was with Vegeta.
When the waiter comes back to take their dessert plates away, Vegeta asks for another bottle of wine, despite Goku's half-hearted protests.
"It's a special night," is all he gets before Vegeta closes the conversation altogether.
It's a good thing Goku isn't really averse to the idea. Hanging out with Vegeta more isn't an idea he dislikes, and having alcohol is a nice addition.
As they’re blazing through this bottle, belatedly, Goku realizes there might be an issue. It has been a cool minute since the last time he had this much to drink. Unlike the rest of the guys, Goku doesn’t like drinking all that much, and he especially does not like clubs or even bars, to an extent.
With alcohol-induced carelessness, he mentally shrugs. What could go wrong?
The quick answer is: nothing, until, there is something.
Vegeta is recounting some stories on one of his friends’ yachts, and Goku has no problem just listening to him, even with Vegeta unwittingly hammering home the difference in their social status. Besides, Vegeta was cute when he was animated, and thanks to the alcohol, there is a light flush on his face that makes him even cuter.
“You probably don’t even care about this,” Vegeta says, sounding apologetic after he realized how long he had been talking. That pulls Goku out of his Vegeta-induced trance. “Why would ya assume I don’t care?”
Something about that tugs at him oddly. In the back of his mind, something grows. Inching its way into recognition.
“Well, this isn’t a world you’re a part of, I bet it’s boring-”
It’s a harmless comment, born out of concern for Goku’s enjoyment.
But that little, sneaky something?
Turns out, it's self-deprecation!
It isn’t a common feeling for him ㅡ Goku likes to think he’s a person fairly content with himself and his life. Nor would it really be all that big a deal either, except that right now, exacerbated by his feelings for Vegeta, and intensified by the multiple glasses of wine coursing through his system, it is a very big deal.
The self-esteem that had been ever so slowly traversing a downhill slope since they entered the restaurant, was now fucking rolling down the decline.
In a voice he can’t recognize, with an anger he can’t place as his, Goku stands up. The fact that he sways when he does so should have been the turning point of realization, the jab of sanity that told him: maybe you shouldn’t say anything.
But it is also this fact that throws back: shut the fuck up.
In a voice waterlogged with alcohol and emotion, he blurts out, “Yeah, I wouldn’t belong there, would I? In your world.”
And then he’s off, ignoring the fact that he stumbles on his own feet more than once on the way out. He’s arrived at his neighborhood when the clarity of mind that the evening chill and his brisk walk awarded, hits him like a brick to the face.
In one swift movement, his indignation drains from his veins and is replaced by extreme embarrassment.
Half of him wants to run back, apologize to Vegeta for… whatever the fuck just happened. The shame stops him from changing course though, keeps his feet on a straight path to his house.
He walks in and the opening of the door alerts the three boys. “Dad, how was the date?” Gohan gets up from the couch as Goku toes his shoes off hurriedly.
“I fucked up,” he replies soullessly. “Gonna go to bed.”
Without another word, he does exactly that, locking his door and falling into bed without even bothering to change his clothes. He grabs the picture at his bedside, pressing it to his face, eyes closing in frustration.
“I’m a fuckin’ moron, Chi. Don’t know what you or Vegeta saw in me.”
He’s not going to cry. This is his fault.
So, he doesn’t cry.
(Not in any way he’ll acknowledge, in any case.)
The morning after is even worse.
His hangover hits him with both the realization that he drank way more than he thought, and the memory of his colossal fuck up the night before.
He groans, both thanks to that infernal reminder and from the pounding headache behind his eyes. His stomach feels incredibly unsettled, a fact that worsens when he stands up. He doesn’t get more than a few steps out of bed, before he’s doing a weird hobble-jog into his restroom and familiarizing himself with the ceramic of the toilet.
Goku can’t believe that amazing evening had turned into… this.
And it had all been his fault.
When he’s no longer occupied with emptying the contents of his stomach, his mind gladly puts on repeat the eventful occurrence at the end of last night’s dinner. He can hardly even think about all the good things of that night, because this is all he’s getting.
He forces himself to brush his teeth because he doesn’t want to feel disgusting on top of everything, and drinks from the water in his bathroom sink out of anger and apathy.
Then he falls back into bed. All he wants to do today is lie down and bemoan his stupidity.
His eyes fall on his phone, which must have fallen out of his pocket onto the bed. His fingers twitch, reaching out for it. Maybe he should text Vegeta an apology.
No sooner has he thought that, then he stops and pulls his hand away. The humiliation is still fresh, flaring brightly in his consciousness. Besides, Vegeta probably didn’t want to see him anymore.
What kind of idiot stormed out on a date over a misunderstanding?
He couldn’t face Vegeta anymore, either. This was for the best, is what he tells himself, and yet he can feel that he doesn’t believe that. Doesn’t want to believe it.
He spends most of the day warring between his shame and his desire, completely ignoring his cell phone, and brushing aside his kids.
So when Gohan knocks on the door and calls out his name in the evening, Goku’s ready to dismiss him once more. “Someone’s here for you dad.”
Probably Krillin or Yamcha. “Tell them to go away and bother Tien instead. I’m not in the mood.”
A voice that is definitely not Krillin, Yamcha, or Gohan speaks up. “Who the hell is Tien? I want to talk to you.”
His heart flies up and lodges in his throat. He's moving before he realizes, pulling the door open to reveal Vegeta dressed in a business suit. The shorter man looks a little at odds, awkward and uncomfortable in a way Goku didn't think Vegeta could even be.
"Vegeta-"
"I'm-"
They both stop. "Oh, ya go first," Goku blushes, hand extending slightly, palm up.
"Okay. I just- need to get this out. I'm sorry. I said something uncalled for and-"
"No!" Goku pauses when Vegeta turns shocked eyes on him. But there was no need for Vegeta to apologize for something that wasn't his fault.
"Sorry, but I'm the one who should be sorry. I overreacted when I shouldn't have. I was just feelin'… all weird and outta place, but that's not your fault, and I shouldn't have blamed ya for it."
They stand there for a little, staring at each other. Finally, Goku cracks a smile. “I was… thinking ‘bout going back, and apologizing, but I… couldn’t. Sorry.”
“Well, you can stop right now.” Vegeta reaches up and gently grabs his head, pulling him into a kiss.
Goku’s protest about their children melts away at the feeling of Vegeta’s lips on his. He returns the kiss with fervor, filled with the floaty, tingling feeling of falling in love.
They only part when the sound of applause breaks past the little bubble that encompasses only them. Goku blushes upon seeing the kids clapping, until Vegeta pulls him into another kiss and once again, nothing else matters.
five years later
Goku is shifting from heel to toe, anxious energy zipping through him. He can't stop moving ㅡ constantly adjusting his suit, fidgeting with his fingers, or running his hand through his hair.
"Why don't you relax a little, Goku," Krillin tells him with a worried furrow on his brow.
"Yeah, you're stressin' me out, dude," Yamcha adds, ever the helpful one.
"That's not helping, Yamcha," interjects Tien, the actually helpful one.
"I haven't done this in over a decade," Goku says, more to himself than anyone else. "I'm like… the king of fuckin' things up. I can't do that to this!"
"Don't say that! You're more like... the prince of fucking things up."
"Still not helping," Krillin hisses.
It doesn't seem like Goku's even listening to them berate Yamcha.
He's muttering under his breath, alone in a world with his trepidation.
Krillin places a gentle hand on his back, bringing Goku's attention to him. "You got this, dude. Besides, you guys said it yourself, this is a celebration of your love. Nothing could go wrong today so long as it's you guys loving freely."
The other three men stand in shocked silence for a brief moment. Then, Goku cracks a smile. "Wow, when did ya get so mature?"
"Hey, I'm still older than you!"
Goku chuckles, feeling the weight of anxiety lift itself off of his back. "Thanks, Krillin. I feel much better, actually."
"Good.” Krillin pats him.
A glance at their watches tells them it's about to start. Krillin, Tien, and Yamcha go ahead, bidding Goku another good luck before they do.
He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out a slightly faded photo of him and Chichi on their wedding day.
"I hope y'know I'll never forget ya."
It's wistful. A juxtaposition of the pain of loss, but the joy of new love.
He had married the most incredible woman in the world, and even if the overwhelming melancholy has subsided, the memory of her bright smile, twinkling eyes, and their love is carved on his heart forever.
And now, he was about to marry the most incredible man in the world. Someone just as headstrong, just as tough, just as independent. Just as amazing. Someone who etched his existence into Goku's own.
As he walks, looking outside at the clear, blue sky and the cherry blossom trees whose petals occasionally take flight on the soft, spring breeze, he likes to imagine that it's a gift from her.
The wedding is a small affair on the lawn of Capsule Corp. All the decoration and planning had been conducted mostly by the women in the Briefs family, with Goku and Vegeta making the final decisions. The audience consists of their kids, their closest friends from work, and Vegeta’s adopted family, of course. The whole thing is also sparsely decorated, with simple wooden chairs and an archway of roses complete with their thorns, as requested by the pair.
It’s perfect for them.
He meets Vegeta inside, right before they emerge to where everyone else is already waiting. They take a moment to themselves, hands interlocked, foreheads pressed together, as they bask in each other’s presence and the love that wraps itself around them, palpable.
They pull away and face the exit. “Ready?”
“I should be asking you that question,” Vegeta throws back, eyeing Goku’s trembling hand with a gentle smile.
Goku grabs his hand, entwining their fingers. “Now I am.”
Together, they walk out, heading down the aisle of grass and scattered petals. Gohan plays a slower rendition of the traditional wedding march and on either side, the gathered group stand up and applaud.
They arrive at the front where Vegeta’s CFO, Piccolo, stands to officiate the ceremony, towering over everyone. He isn’t ordained, but they just wanted someone who could sound serious.
His low, quiet tone somehow carries over the whole congregation when he says, “We gather here today to celebrate the union of these two, Son Goku and Vegeta Briefs. If anyone objects, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Silence greets him, but whether it’s because it’s genuine, or because Vegeta glares at all of them in warning, no one will truly know.
Following directly after Piccolo’s introduction come the vows. Vegeta and Goku had wanted a brief ceremony in order to get to the reception quicker, but they had wanted to put more effort into this part.
Vegeta goes first, his gaze on Goku as firm and unwavering as his voice.
“All my life, I’ve had to fight to get what I wanted. I’ve gotten used to the mental and physical clashes that I now accept as a part of life. I’ve also learned that deception lurks around every corner, behind every mask. But with you, everything’s changed. I don’t have to fight to survive, because you come to my aid freely. I have no need to formulate lies to protect myself in the face of your honesty. When you entered my life, the world that had once been so stable underneath my feet was completely and utterly uprooted, showing me just how fragile it all actually was. You are everything that is good in the world, and you bring out everything good in me. I’m not the easiest person to be with, but with everything in me, I vow to make it easier for you to do so. I love you. Thank you for loving me.”
Goku doesn’t look like he notices the tears falling down his face, and looking at him, Vegeta refuses to acknowledge the ones that well up in his own eyes. Goku takes a few deep breaths, and with an encouraging nod from Vegeta, starts speaking in a voice surprisingly stable.
“Anyone who knows me, knows that I’ve always been something of a romantic. After Chichi, I didn’t really think I would ever find that kind of love again, and I didn’t really wanna. And then… I met ya. I’m not- super good with words, but I thought it’d be better for me to write this myself. The moment I- I saw ya, it was pretty insane that in an instant, I was a bumbling idiot who couldn’t put two sentences together without stuttering. But because of how comfortable y’ were, how warm, when I started getting to know ya, even from the first time, it felt like talking to an old friend, but better. I love that y’ don’t like to lose, but ya have no problem admitting when you’re wrong. You’re my partner in crime, in the gym, and in life. I love ya like crazy, ‘Geta, and I fully intend on takin' it to the end with ya.”
The tears Vegeta tried to ignore are falling now. But it didn’t matter, and not just because everyone else was crying too. It didn’t matter because Goku grabs both of his hands in his, smiling widely through his tears. Vegeta scoffs, but succeeds in not smiling about as well as he did in not crying. He detaches one of his hands to reach out and wipe Goku’s tears away, and for his efforts, he’s pulled into a kiss that he returns just as eagerly.
Someone whistles and then applause rings out. They pull apart so Vegeta can slip the ring on. Goku does the same to him, the applause from their friends and family loud and unrelenting.
Goku turns to Vegeta. “Food?” Vegeta smirks. “That’s what I came here for.”
The resounding laugh that is Goku’s answer rings the clearest in Vegeta’s ears.
Standing on the steps of the house where his son’s boyfriend lives, Vegeta doesn’t know what to expect. His son had told him only briefly about the whole affair, though to no fault of his own, as Vegeta is always pretty busy. His boyfriend’s name, the name of his dad and older brother, and where the house was.
As most parents went, he was interested in the father of Goten. What kind of person was he? Often, how the kids were was usually heavily influenced by the parents. All Trunks had told him was that “Goku is cool.” And when Vegeta had reprimanded his son about the lack of an honorific, he’d shrugged. “He said I didn’t have to use it.”
Vegeta doubted that, but if it was true, it was intriguing.
He rings the doorbell and doesn’t have to wait long before it launches open. When he sees who stands on the other side, he has to consciously school his face in order to control his emotions.
The man's hair is striking, thick and black in an interesting sort of cowlick. It fit him, complimented his cute face and even cuter expression. Even the ridiculous apron he had on oddly seemed to fit.
The only thing that was at odds was his frame. The muscles hardly contained by his t-shirt were even further defined by his broad shoulders, and with his height, all culminated into a package that was who Vegeta imagined poets wrote about and sculptors used as their motifs.
If he believed in a god, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was one right here.
The other man’s got a blush like the soft pink of dawn adorning his cheekbones, and the part where his soul is tethered to his body comes undone, pulling towards the other man, falling into the nonexistent yet tangible magnetic force that was his presence.
As natural as the world around them, as definite as the laws of the universe, Vegeta is drawn to him, and he to Vegeta. They were bound to fall together, and neither of them would oppose it.