Archive of Our Own ^beta

C- Comfort, the saiyan way

“No.”

Kakarot shook his head, backing away. He looked completely freaked out. To Vegeta, it seemed that the younger saiyan’s abnormal pallor had become increasingly more noticeable as he looked on at the object in Bulma’s hand.

“Goku, for goodness’ sake, we’ve been over this!” Bulma said exasperatedly. “It’s just a needle, It’s not going to hurt you!”

“It’s sharp, and pointy, and it’s,” Kakarot waved a hand, as if that explained anything and everything. Bulma looked increasingly vexed; Vegeta looked on in slight bemusement. “Why can’t we just take Vegeta’s blood sample?!”

“I already have, Goku,” Bulma said, clearly trying to be patient. “I have no idea if you two have the same blood type, if saiyans even have different blood types. That’s why I need to test it, or his blood or the vaccine we’re developing may well kill you.”

Kakarot honestly looked like he preferred that to the alternative. “There’s got to be another way, Bulma, please?”

Bulma sighed at the saiyan’s desperate tone. “Goku, I need to take your blood sample. This needle is the only way I can do it,” she paused, “unless I knock you out, or punch you until you bleed.” 

“I can do that,” Vegeta offered, in the spirit of generosity.

“Can we do that?” Kakarot asked at the same time, voice full of hope.

“No!” Bulma levelled a warning glare at them both.

“Why not?” Kakarot whined.

“Since Kakarot’s fine with it, I’m more than happy to oblige,” Vegeta agreed, smirking at Bulma’s obviously-growing ire. In his periphery, he caught the glance that the younger saiyan gave him, and the grateful, wide puppy eyes.

It was a look which made Vegeta feel all sorts of weird inside. Unsure how to react, the prince chose to ignore it.

Bulma looked between them, realized their utter seriousness, then threw her hands in the air. “Oh my god, saiyans! You knuckleheads will never stop surprising me with your stupidity!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Vegeta said dryly. Coming from a genius like Bulma, it technically was, or at least, not the insult it could have been. Not that he would ever verbalise that thought in public.

“Goku, are you seriously telling me you prefer to get the living daylights punched out of you over a simple pinprick?” Bulma asked exasperatedly, ignoring Vegeta. “I doubt you would even feel any pain, with your tough saiyan skin!”

“I don’t care about the pain.” Kakarot looked so desperate it was almost cute…

...what? Vegeta quickly discarded that thought, rewriting the narrative in his head.

“I just really really don’t want to - eep,” he shrank away, almost whimpering as Bulma stepped forward with needle in hand. “Bulma, please. I really don’t want- that.”

“Goku,” Bulma sighed, looking into her best friend’s best puppy dog eyes. Vegeta knew she always had a soft spot for that look. Perhaps even the prince himself did. It was hard not to acquiesce when someone so usually carefree became so difficult. 

Actually, yes. Seeing Kakarot like this was a little… strange. Vegeta had been too busy trolling Bulma (Trunks’ penchant for mischief was inherited from one of his parents, and contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t his mother) that he had been distracted, but it was actually a bit disturbing. 

The idea of carefree, reckless Kakarot, his annoying miracle-worker of a rival who never lacked courage on the battlefield, whose conviction and optimism was to the point that they sometimes questioned his sanity, being this scared of something so harmless, made Vegeta feel a little… off.  

Kakarot did look terrified. Not in a comical way. 

“Bulma.” Vegeta caught her beautiful cerulean eyes, shaking his head minutely. “I’ll deal with this.”

Bulma frowned, looking skeptical. “By knocking him out?” she asked, suspicious.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. “You just need a blood sample, right? The end justifies the means.”

Bulma winced. Vegeta knew her well enough to understand that expression. She was a creature of both strong emotion and of logic, and that look meant that she was acquiescing to his logic without agreeing to the moral value behind it. 

“... please don’t let it get too messy,” she said in an undertone, handing Vegeta the needle. “Would be better if you can convince him to just accept this time - we will probably need to do this again, at vaccinate him at some point.”

“Hn.” Vegeta tilted his head. He hadn’t considered that.

Bulma left the infirmary room, quietly shutting the door behind her. Vegeta turned back to Kakarot, momentarily stumped to find himself on the receiving end of a very mixed, almost mistrustful look from the younger saiyan. 

“You’re not going to use that - thing on me, right?” Kakarot asked suspiciously. “I’d really rather fight you.”

Vegeta let out a snort. Everything went back to fighting. Ever the saiyan, this little idiot that was his rival. It was almost endearing. “As appealing as the idea of smacking you into next week sounds, Kakarot, I don’t think that would work for our purposes. The blood should be clean, and I doubt I can draw the amount Bulma needs.”

Kakarot continued to watch him warily. “Vegeta,” his voice was a plea, “I really don’t…”

The younger saiyan looked… agitated. Desperate. Eyes wide and searching, minute trembling suggesting the desire to take flight or teleport away at any second. Vegeta had to give it to him, were it the prince himself in a position he was extremely uncomfortable in, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t already have IT’ed the hell away.

Vegeta couldn’t ever recall seeing Kakarot like this. Playfully shaking in fear from humoring his wife’s wrath, yes. Trembling and radiating silent, cold fury, yes. But never like this. 

Bulma had probably anticipated all this, which explained why she had been reluctant to approach the younger saiyan earlier, until it was absolutely necessary. But Vegeta’s acute saiyan senses went further than visual cues. The prince could even pick up the scent of fear in the air, hear Kakarot’s short, sharp intake of breath as he surveyed the object of his distress. It made the seemingly silly fear of needles less pathetic and more palpable.

Vegeta tilted his head, studying the younger saiyan. 

“You’re… really terrified, aren’t you?” Vegeta asked. At Kakarot’s timid little nod, something seemed to click.

Vegeta had been aware that Kakarot was afraid of needles. He vaguely recalled making this observation on Namek, after the fight with Ginyu.When his alliance with their team had still been tenuous, and the prince had only helped Krillin and the then-much younger Gohan put Kakarot in the healing tank simply because the prince needed him to defeat Frieza. A means to an end. Functional purposes only, to be disposed of after function is served.

How things have changed. 

Maybe some time long in the past, Vegeta would have made fun of Kakarot’s clear distress. But the past was not the now. In their entire history and time fighting together, unless it had been for the exclusive purposes of goading for a spar, Kakarot had never made fun of Vegeta for his own insecurities of being penultimate in strength, or his fears, or his nightmares.

And there had been plenty of reason and occasions to do so, times when Vegeta had been reckless, or cruel, or vicious to the other saiyan, and an “I told you so” or a taunt would have been more than warranted. But silly soft Kakarot had never done anything of the sort, despite the justice it would have been. Despite being the person most justified to do it.

And as malevolent and decrepit as Vegeta’s heart was, well, that... moved him.

“It’s hard to believe you’re my rival sometimes,” Vegeta half-heartedly jibed, but his next question was serious. “Did anything happen to you in the past, Kakarot? Anything to make you this scared needles of all things, something so silly and harmless?” The words were harsh but the intention was masked. Perhaps if Vegeta could understand the source of the fear, he could help Kakarot find a way to circumvent it.

Not that that always worked. The prince hated worms for good reason, and would probably never get over it - something he would rather not think about in that moment.

“I dunno. No.” Kakarot grimaced, voice low. “I just really, really don’t like needles.”

The prince tilted his head, remembering that strange time in HFIL when they faced Janemba and Kakarot literally flew into a pit of needles to catch him in his freefall. Death had felt like a dream. Even now, Vegeta wasn’t sure that that fight had actually happened, except for the fact that Kakarot had been there with him.  

“Didn’t you once fly into a pit of needles to -” Vegeta hesitated, throat tight, “get us away from Janemba?” He didn’t want to say it, but Kakarot had technically saved the prince, as he had done minutes before, back then. It had been a blow to Vegeta’s pride, but in a weird twist of saiyan logic, if anyone at all was to be allowed to help or save him, only his rival would be. In some strange way, that was a nod of respect to Kakarot, both his physical prowess and his heart.

Kakarot, oblivious to the spiel of Vegeta’s merry little overthinking brain, scratched the back of his head. “...Yeah?”

“And?” Vegeta waved one gloved hand. “That was a massive pit of needles, Kakarot. You didn’t seem to have trouble back then.”

“That was different.”

“Different in the way that the needles were gargantuan?” The prince couldn’t stop the flash of fond amusement as he watched Kakarot shudder at his words.

“No,” Kakarot said, eyes wide and guileless, “different because it was for you.” 

...screw Kakarot. Screw him and his stupid, earnest, loving, pure, innocent little ways.

Vegeta sighed, coming to a decision. He places the needle down on the table nearby. “Come here, Kakarot.”

Kakarot shrank back. “No! Not if you’re going to jab me with that- thing!”

“I’m not going to.” Kakarot shot him a look of such pure disbelief that Vegeta had to amend his words. “Not yet. I’m not going to trick you, Kakarot.”

Kakarot looked at him warily for a heartbeat longer, before nodding his head. “...okay.”

Vegeta blinked, startled. “Just like that?” It was that easy?

Kakarot shrugs. “I trust you, Vegeta,” he said simply. 

Vegeta inhaled sharply at those words, swallowing his response. Like I’ve never stabbed you in the back, you clown. Like I’ve never turned away from you. Like I’ve never laughed at your pain. This man will never, ever cease to surprise him.

Kakarot approached him slowly, despite the short distance between them. Vegeta waited in complete silence, knowing that this is one of those moments where actions would do more to bridge trust than words could, and even more importantly, it had to be willingly given by the other party.

Once Kakarot was within range, Vegeta hesitantly reached out a gloved hand. Kakarot, perhaps misunderstanding the prince’s intentions, caught it in his palm. 

Vegeta flushed slightly, and in any other circumstance would have smacked away the contact. But he recognised this was not the time, not when the air was thick with Kakarot’s anxiety, not when it was important to bridge this little bit of faith between them. 

And so, he held Kakarot’s gaze. The younger saiyan looked a little confused, but also a little happy, as it was rare for Vegeta to initiate any kind of affectionate physical contact between them. Lightly squeezing the uncovered palm, Vegeta trailed his right hand up Kakarot’s arm, to rest it on the nape of his neck. The other hand he placed lightly on Kakarot’s shoulder. This close, he could see the exact moment when Kakarot’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Don’t,” Vegeta muttered, when Kakarot opened his mouth, presumably to ask. “You said you trust me, so just -” trust me, was the request, but Vegeta found himself unable to finish those words, not with his dark past and all the shame he carried and more so all the wrongs he’d done to this man before him, so he didn’t. 

But Kakarot seemed to understand, as he always did, what Vegeta couldn’t say. The younger saiyan smiled at him and with complete serenity shut his eyes, despite the needle being right there in their proximity. Vegeta’s breath caught at the gesture of faith. 

You… idiot, Kakarot. You mind-numbing, pure hearted, trusting fool. Too kind, too good for your own good.

You deserve this.

Vegeta bridged the gap between them, touching his forehead to Kakarot’s gently. It was the saiyan equivalent of a hug, a gesture for giving comfort, for trust, for greeting someone deeply cared for. The prince was aware that it would look physically intimate to a human, and on a visceral level it was, but between saiyans, it was more than that. It told a story of trust and openness.

I see you as you are. I open myself to you. I care for you. You are safe with me.

It had been a long time since Vegeta had done this with another living being, and practically never had he initiated it himself. King Vegeta the third had only given his son this rarely, and the final time had been when Vegeta was about to board Frieza’s ship. 

The last time he has seen his father before their planet became stardust.

Kakarot couldn’t possibly be aware of the symbolism behind the gesture, but it seemed to work anyway. There was a gentle exhale, and tension bleeded out of the younger saiyan, the smile becoming a fuller, more serene one. His hands came up of their own accord to rest behind Vegeta’s neck and shoulder blade, completing their strange embrace.

Kakarot then pressed his forehead more deeply to Vegeta’s, subconsciously seeking more comfort. The increase in pressure caused the prince to shiver . The sensation of the spiky mess of bangs against his forehead was unusual, but not unwelcome.

Vegeta never thought he would have this again. Never even thought about having it again- his father had been the last. Being able to share this with another saiyan, and with someone like - Kakarot - who held such a significant place in the prince’’s life was… indescribable. it was… warming and wonderful and all sorts of things Vegeta would rather not think about right now. 

But it was also so far out of Vegeta’s comfort zone it may as well have been on another planet and required a different kind of courage than he was used to. And to ask the next question.

“Kakarot.” Vegeta’s voice was gruff. “Are you…” okay?   Was the question.

Kakarot finally opened his eyes, but his forehead never left Vegeta’s. “Yeah,” he breathed out softly. “Vegeta...”

Something was growing in the air between them. Something that felt like old decaying things finally being carried by the wind, to leave fertile ground for something fresh and joyous to grow. Something felt like it was coming full circle, something that felt so good and so ... right. And- and weirdly, Vegeta felt… complete. Whole. When he hadn’t been lacking in the first place. 

The unusual feelings were making Vegeta panic, so he drew back slightly without fully letting go. Surely Kakarot could feel his discomfort, surely Kakarot could understand how much it had taken for him to do this. Maybe it would help make the next part easier.

“Vegeta, that… was nice,” Kakarot said. His eyes shone with some emotion Vegeta couldn’t identify, something that made his boldness withdraw and embarrassment come back. He dropped his hands away finally and took a slight step back, coughing to cover it up.

Kakarot seemed to interpret something out of that, because his soft smile became a more mischievous one. “What?” Vegeta snapped half-heartedly, hackles rising.

“You’re cute when you’re shy, Vegeta,” the other saiyan teased.

Vegeta glared at him. “Shut up, Kakarot.” His tone was a warning, but he didn’t need to say more - he and Kakarot both knew they were at the limit of the boundary of what was familiar.

The prince drew a breath, turning back to the task at hand. “Kakarot. I need to take your blood sample. I-” Vegeta amended. This had to be willing, voluntary. “May I,” he  indicated the needle, “may I do this?”

Some of Kakarot’s anxiety seemed to return, but it didn’t have the same forcefulness as before. Vegeta waited with bated breath. He didn’t know what he’d do after all this if it didn’t work.

And this time it was Kakarot who held out a hand silently, his eyes screaming agitation, but also levels of trust that Vegeta couldn’t believe was genuinely directed at the prince. But this was Kakarot, who pulled off things people couldn’t believe.

It was a quick piece of work in the end, almost anticlimactic with what it had taken to get to that point. Yet something between the two had fundamentally changed. 

An incredulous Bulma found Goku’s blood sample in her office much later. As she called her doctor to take the sample away to test, she wondered aloud at the miracle that the left wing of Capsule Corp was still intact, and resolved to tell Vegeta that he would be the one to administer the vaccine they would develop.