More of Us Card

Notes:  Slash.  M/M.  Sex eventually.  *Soon. *  Mpreg.  Chi-Chi bashing.  AU, I guess. *isn't all fanfiction AU?*

Oh, and I don't own them.  Of course I don't, or I would be rich.



The smile deflated; not enough that anyone would notice.  But Goku felt it.  The smile that was always on his face became a little more forced every time he woke up in the morning. The giddiness that Vegeta despised him for became less giddy and the happiness he tried so hard to maintain was failing to comfort him.  More and more, Goku felt himself dying.  Not his physical body—because he knew what that felt like, he'd died before.  But his soul; if Saiyans even had souls, that is.  He felt a hole inside of him that was growing with each day until it would consume him and it wouldn't matter that he had defeated Freiza, or that he was stronger than anyone else, or that he was a Super Saiyan.  None of that would matter because he wouldn't care.

Didn't care.


He dragged himself out of bed, forced the orange gi onto his body and flew away to meet Vegeta, but he didn't care.  When he blocked the endless attacks, when he fought back, when he helped Vegeta back to his feet and gave him a smile and a stupid little: "Hey that was a good one 'Geta," he felt himself dying.  His race was dead.  There would be no more Saiyans, no more full-bloods, no more of him or Vegeta.  Which was good.  No more to plague the universe.  No more to come and try to destroy his home.  But all the rest were dead, why did Goku fight?  His family was dead.  His kind were dead.  What did he really owe to these people?

And, sometimes, at night, when these thoughts visited him, and he lay next to his wife, he thought of his son.  Gohan.  Thought of how wonderful it felt to have a baby, to know that he was a father and that there would be more like him.  Maybe, he had thought—then—maybe he could bring back the people that were like him.  Maybe he could make more and more.  But Chi-Chi had just turned her back to him with a little hmph and told him if he wanted more babies he had better find himself a mistress.  He didn't blame her.  Not really.  Saiyans were preternaturally strong; too strong for a frail thing like Chi-Chi really.  Too strong for any Earth woman.  So he had let that idea die.

Then Vegeta.

Then more of his kind.  The barbaric of his kind.  And Goku had wondered why he had wanted more of them.  Why he had wanted to make these little monsters that would grow up into Vegeta and murderer their own kind.  But the nagging little need never really went away.  It got deeper.  Stronger.  He had fought Vegeta, defeated him, defeated Freiza.  He was a Super Saiyan.  Power was part of him, in his blood, inside of him, and he knew, without even having to know anything, that this was a legacy that needed to be passed on.  Had to be passed on.

But Chi-Chi wouldn't listen.  Didn't want to listen.  Couldn't understand him.  But she insulted him fairly enough.  Called him a blond-freak.  Insulted Vegeta.  Damned the whole Saiyan race.  They were a bunch of barbarians that never did anything but fight and they would have never amounted to anything.  And then, in the quiet of the evening, she had whispered the words that made Goku hate her,that had started this cancer.  "I'm glad that damn planet died.  Glad there are no more of you."

Goku hated her.  With ever little piece of him that died, he hated her more.  Every morning brought the knowledge that without more of his kind his life was empty.  Every morning he woke to find his son training with Piccolo, and he smiled in pride.  Saiyan pride.  Every day was passed with the single thought in his mind: how could he find more of his kind?  How could he make more?

Without even meaning to, Goku found the Dragon Balls.  Without even really meaning to, he stood before the Dragon and uttered his wish, and without even meaning to, he changed the course of history forever.


Chapter One

The shockwave broke over the open forest, and trees crashed to the ground.  The stream churned and overflowed, displaced fish flopped for air and gasped out dying breath.  Goku dropped to the ground with enough force to dint the crust of the planet.  But he was unconscious, and while he struggled to wake, the earth was falling in on itself around him, burying him in the rubble as the shockwave rippled endlessly over the surface.  Shifty sand fell in, covering his head and only the barest tips of his black hair was visible as the tremors passed.  The dead fish began to stink, and the a few injured trees cracked in the distance and finished their fall.

When Vegeta arrived—drawn by the sheer explosion of power—he was met with the disaster, and in a derisive sniff of his royal nose he dismissed it as a natural catastrophe.  Stupid planet was always shaking or raining or burning for some reason or the other, and it was certainly not the duty of the Prince of All Saiyans to clean up their problems.  In fact, had he not caught the flash of a torn orange clothe on a tree branch he might not have even halted his departure.  But when he saw the clothe he picked it up and raised the familiar—atrocious colored—clothe to his nose and sniffed it.


He should have realized.  The addle-brained baka was always behind these things.  Always.  He sighed a great sigh of duty and descended to the ground to see what mess the idiot had managed to get himself in this time.  And wouldn't you know it, he was no where to be found.  Vegeta huffed and walked in a circle, looked around, giving the diaster scene a cursory glance.  Nothing.  So.  Kakarot must have caused the trouble and disappeared already. 

Vegeta moved to leave again, and a smell—a smell he would have remembered beyond death however long ago it was that he had last smelt it—smacked him in the face.  It was the smell of comfort, of life, of eternity—the smell he associated with his mother.  The smell of someone that was fertile, someone that could bear children.  Not just someone, but a Saiyan someone.  Intrigued, Vegeta turned, sniffing the air until he found the supposed source of it.  But there was nothing there but a few spike black…  Oh.  Kami.  Vegeta drew in a deep breath of scent again and heaved an annoyed sigh.  It was Kakarot.  Kakarot was in season.

Vegeta knelt, punched his hand down through the loose dirt and wrapped his hand around the baka's arm.  He yanked and the unconscious man—a dirty little thought entered his mind reminding him that at least part of Kakarot was now female and thus should be referred to as woman—broke through the dirt.  He set his only full-blooded subject on the ground and glared at him.  There was absolutely no outward changes.  None that he could see anyway.  Vegeta knew it was a bad idea even before he did it, but curiousity got the best of him, and he knelt down and lifted the orange top of the gi to see if Kakarot had changed at all.  His chest was still all muscle; not that that would change until after the brat was whelped, but as of right now it looked masculine enough.  Cursing every god Vegeta had ever heard of, he looked lower, and just at that moment, just as his hand ventured down to rest on the waistband of the gi, just as he raised the waistband to look under, just then, Kakarot woke up and lifted his head.

" 'Geta?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, my name is NOT 'Geta.  I am your Prince.  I am Vegeta!"

"So…" Kakarot said, "Why do you have your hand down my pants, Prince Vegeta?"

Of course.  Because serving Freiza wasn't enough of a punishment for all the bad things Vegeta had done in life, he needed this shame to follow him around too.  "I was…  I…  Baka!  Why were you buried in the ground?"

                Goku grinned.  "I asked you first."

                Vegeta—realizing that he had in fact never moved his hand—pulled back and frowned at his subject.  "I am your Prince, I do not answer to a Third Class Baka."

                Goku shrugged, the dirt rolled off his shoulders and he stood up.  Stretched.  Looked as if nothing had happened.  But something had changed, because Vegeta wasn't nearly as enraged as he should have been.  In fact, as he watched the tall body before him stretch out, he was quite intrigued.  Interested.  Almost aroused.  Goku was looking at him, watching him staring.

                "Something wrong, 'Geta?"

                "No." Vegeta snapped.  "You never answered my question."

                "Oh," Goku said.  He reached behind him to pick at his butt.  "I was just," then he scratched the back of his neck.  Behind him his tail was swishing merrily.  "Sort of, I… Kind of.  Well, you see, I might have…  That is to say."

                "SPIT IT OUT ALREADY!" Vegeta screamed.

                "I wished that there could be more Saiyans."

                Well.  Didn't that explain everything.  The very nice, large, eternal dragon of the Dragon Balls apparently had a very twisted sense of humor, all things considered.  Because instead of just sending them a few female Saiyans he dropped a very large, very male from the sky with a little surprise.  "You what?" Vegeta demanded.

                "Well.  Chi-Chi doesn't want to have anymore kids, and I want more.  I mean, I've always wanted more and I love Gohan, but he's not a full Saiyan, not really, and well, after I turned Super Saiyan I just figured it was sort of my responsibility to make more little Saiyans and then Chi-Chi told me that that would never happen and she was glad our planet had died and…  Well.  I didn't like that.  So I got sort of down and then, I found the Dragon Balls and wished that I could make more.  Of us."

                Why? Vegeta asked silently, Why did this have to be the only other full-blooded Saiyan left alive?  Because you killed Radditz and Nappa.  Well.  Fine then.  Vegeta huffed a huge sigh.  "Did it work?" he asked.  Of course, he recognized the unusual scent that was emanating from Goku.

                "Hey!" Goku said, twist around to look at his tail, "I've got my tail back!"

                Vegeta wanted to beat him.  But he didn't.  "Kakarot," he growled, "Focus.  What did the Dragon do?"

                "He said 'your wish is granted' and then I don't remember anything until you had your hand down my pants."  Goku scratched the back of his head again.  "I've got to go.  Chi-Chi will be upset if I don't get home soon.  See you, 'Geta."

                Then Goku was gone, and Vegeta stood in the place he had left, inhaling the scent of a fertile body.  It was addictive.  Dangerous.  A growl rose in Vegeta's chest.  He felt his senses narrowing in on the smell, adjusting his mind to it, preparing himself to go and find…  NO!  He was not going to chase down Kakarot like that idiot was the only thing on this planet.  He wasn't.  Absolutely not…  Yet.  Anyway.  The growl changed to a purr, and Vegeta rose his fingers to his nose, to sniff the scent that still lingered from when he touched the giant baka. 


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