Ten-Year Curse Pt.3

Of course, it was proven a week later that Vegeta was right. The only substance they had used to heal was chapstick.

On the morning of that seventh day, the Prince was in the bathroom, the second door to the left of the hall coming from the living room, examining his stomach in the full-length mirror in front of the medicine cabinet mirror. Though it was a bit foggy from his recent shower, Vegeta could see that his abs had softened. This child was going to be the end of him. Wrapping a towel around his saggy hair and putting on a spandex top to match his pants, along with gloves, Vegeta exited to the wooden hall barefoot.

Kakarott was cooking breakfast as usual, eggs and bacon, sausage, and toast from what Vegeta could tell. Maybe an undercurrent of strawberry.

"How’s the baby coming?" he called over the popping of the bacon as the Prince settled in his usual spot at the table.

"I’m going to start swelling up soon. My stomach’s already gone all soft."

Kakarott smiled. "You’re going to look so funny pregnant. I bet the baby will be so cute!"

"You sound like a fucking woman," the Prince complained as the last of his kind assembled breakfast sandwiches and oatmeal, serving it.

Vegeta always marveled at Kakarott’s culinary skills. The man could make something wonderful out of nothing at all. It was truly miraculous, compared to how Bulma had cooked.

After breakfast, they went out for their usual spar, returning to eat lunch. Again, they sparred until just before dinner, when Vegeta retired to nap. The baby just exhausted him. When dinner was readied, Goku woke his friend gently. Oddly, Vegeta always helped with the dishes at the end of the day, drying and storing them. Until they retired at the end of the day, they usually played poker with the jar of coins Goku kept. The rest of the meager money Chichi had left him was in a bank account.

"Kakarott," Vegeta addressed as he dealt. "Tomorrow, I need to go shopping for maternity clothes. Will you accompany me?"

"Sure, ‘Geta. Let’s just have fun tomorrow." Vegeta just shook his head and sighed.

When dawn had broken the night fog, Goku had already gotten up to prepare some Malt-o-Meal. Groaning at the pain in his lower back (that couch was hell) he mixed an extra shot into his orange juice to make up for the early hour.

Vegeta woke a bare five minutes later, his stomach grilling with hunger. The child was already starving him. After his morning piss, he washed his hands thoroughly before replacing his pristine gloves. He had not touched another being without his gloves on since he was eight; he even had sex with them on, but Bulma hadn’t cared. She just wanted him for his dick.

Entering the kitchen, he enjoyed his breakfast with Kakarott until the baka began asking questions again.

"Why haven’t you gone to see Trunks yet?"

"He would smell my pregnancy and tell his mother," he answered blatantly.

"Oh. Do you miss him?"

Vegeta’s heart twinged at the truth. "Hn." His small, purple-haired son, alone with his bitch of a mother to form him into her demented sculpture. "I will see him again when the child is born. He will be glad to have a sibling."

"Yes, I’m sure he will."

After they were done eating and the dishes disposed of, Kakarott lay his hand on Vegeta’s shoulder. The Prince jerked away.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I was just going to IT us. You don’t want to walk to the city, do you?"

"Fine, I need to go to the bank first." Vegeta tensed under Kakarott’s touch.

In an instant, he was liquid, but then his feet touched ground and the Prince solidified back into himself. Kakarott removed his hand from him at the bank.

The bank was actually just the top sector of the criminal justice building. Oddly ironic. Kakarott had IT’D them directly at the bank instead of taking the stairs from the ground floor.

Walking up to the counter, Vegeta was glad Kakarott went to the back wall, observing some modern paintings. He didn’t want the baka to stop him from what he had planned.

Staring at an abstract mix of red and black, Goku vaguely wondered what the heck it was supposed to be. It just looked like a mess to him.

"Ok, Kakarott. Let’s go." The Prince turned, stuffing an envelope full of twenties into his back pocket.

"What did you do?" Vegeta smelled suspicious to him.

They walked through the doors silently and Goku didn’t dare repeat himself until they were on the stairs.

Vegeta sighed. "I transferred my money to your account."

"What did you do that for?" Goku knew Vegeta had some large amount of money, though he disliked using it, preferring to be self-sufficient.

"I owed you. You feed me, house me, tolerate me . . . now I don’t owe you any more."

Goku huffed as they exited to the streets. He had no idea how much had been in his account, so he wouldn’t know if he was using Vegeta’s money.

The Prince led Kakarott all over the open marketplace, buying several bags of clothing and fruits, even having a pig killed and packaged for himself.

When at last they reached the end of the market, the sun was already setting.

"I’m hungry," complained Kakarott.

"Here," Vegeta offered him a bag full of fruit.

The baka bent over, crying out as he inadertably aggravated his back while getting an apple. Being sober all day really made pain much more acute.

"What is wrong, Kakarott?" the crowd had thinned here so they need not yell.

"Just my back. That couch is hell."

"Well," the Prince contemplated. "You . . . could sleep in the bed. It’s big enough for both of us."

"Are you sure?" Kakarott’s eyebrows hid high up in his hair from Vegeta’s unusual offer. He had been very different since he had shown up pregnant.

"Sure. Now take us home." The baka obeyed.

It took a while to unpack all the junk that had been purchased, but by the time they had, both the fridge and master closet could barely close. On account of the late hour, they munched on cup Ramen during their card game.

Quickly, they grew wearier, and Goku grew more jittery at the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with Vegeta. It seemed somehow special.

The last hand wrapped up, they stumbled down to the bedroom, Vegeta taking a pitstop at the bathroom, leaving Goku to enter the room alone.

Disrobing down to his tighty-whiteys, the Earth Saiyan turned out the light and curled up on Chichi’s side of the bed, letting her scent envelope him like a body bag.

Her long, ebony hair, jewel-like eyes, futile rage, even with her largest frying pan handy, their honeymoon, how he had learned to retain his power so they would both be pleasured, her food, her laugh . . . oh, God . . .

Silently, Vegeta opened the door, already naked to his boxers. Kakarott was curled in on his wife’s pillow, leaving three-fourths of the bed to the Prince. Laying own on the creaky springs and covering up, he put his back to the baka and closed his eyes.

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I have big plans for this story. Hope you like it!