Notes: Slash. M/M. Sex eventually. *Again, again! * Mpreg. Chi-Chi bashing. AU, I guess. *isn't all fan fiction AU?*
Oh, and I don't own them. Of course I don't, or I would be rich.
Rebuilding the Capsule house took longer than was entirely necessary, because over the next month, Goku and Vegeta—who were responsible for the mess, and thus mainly responsible for the rebuilding—kept disappearing. Invariably they would reappear in a few hours, with bloody lips and bruises and tattered clothes, stinking like each other and sex, and for a few hours they would work on putting up walls and carpet and rebuilding the floor, but they always disappeared again. Reappeared again.
Same cycle over and over. Not that Bulma was angry at them exactly, because she was rather pleased that Vegeta had once again ceased to be stupid. The Prince had yet to apologize to her, and in a way, as she ran a hand over her still flat waist, she didn't really want him to. Apologizing would imply that the child was wrong. And he wasn't.
Then Chichi called, just after the phone was placed back in the kitchen. Bulma answered, endured the "Why has your phone stopped working for the past four weeks?" and the "Aren't you supposed to be a rich super-genius?" Until Chichi got to the "I'm pregnant again" part, and Bulma had to repress a chuckle. Six little Saiyans. Great. Seven if you counted Gohan. Of course, closely on the heels of "I don't know why I let that overgrown monkey seduce me" there was "I don't want the baby. If Goku doesn't take it, I'll put him up for adoption."
Bulma ignored her, mostly, passed on the news to the expecting parents—a very pregnant Goku and an overprotective Vegeta—that Chichi was going to give them yet another little addition. They just looked at one another, then down at Goku's rather round stomach and grimaced.
"Another one?" Goku whispered. "How are we going to handle six of them?"
"Carefully," Bulma said.
Goku was sitting in the oversized bathtub—a little luxury that Bulma let them add to their room—with Vegeta leaning against his chest, when he realized that he could feel the four little Saiyans moving around inside of him. Not kicking with their Ki—or their feet—but just turning or rolling. Moving inside of him, almost as if they were playing. Vegeta could feel them against his back, and the two of them were just sitting in the warm water, absorbing the simplicity of that moment.
"Vegeta," Goku said. He rested his chin on the shoulder in front of him.
"Can we name one of them Bardock?"
"Because, Bardock was my father, right?"
Vegeta nodded and then said: "Yes Kakarot." The smell—lord that smell—of lust that had been hanging around Kakarot for the past month and a half had dissipated. There was just the smell of impending childbirth now, which meant they had to be especially careful not to subject Goku to any major confrontations or shocks. A child whelped before four months generally didn't make it and Vegeta was not going to watch his children die. He felt them moving in Kakarot, strong and healthy, and he swore that he would destroy anything that even looked like it would upset his mate. Those brats would be brought to term and then they would be born.
Except, Vegeta could feel the milk gathering in Kakarot's chest, smell it as clearly as he could smell the scent of impending birth, and he was afraid—deadly afraid—that the brats would be born early. He prayed—for the first time ever—to whatever deity listened to a former planet purger, that the birth would wait two weeks. Just two more weeks. Four months was all he asked. Four months and the little ones would be okay.
Goku didn't feel right. He felt crowded, felt like there was too much space all around him, and that there were too many people. It was just him, Gohan, Vegeta and Bulma. But he felt crowded; his tail kept ruffling up in aggravation and swishing back and forth impatiently. He wasn't hungry, but he tried to eat, because he knew that Vegeta was worried about him. His chest hurt, and unless he was imagining things, his muscles were changing into breasts. As if being a big round balloon was not enough of a weird thing.
After breakfast, Vegeta went to talk to Bulma. Gohan hugged his father, patted his round stomach and went to stay with Piccolo. It was probably better that way, Goku thought, because he didn't feel like having people around him. So he wandered, from room to room, felt each one of them was too big or too open, and he didn't like them, the smell of them, the way they just…weren't what he was looking for. Until he was back in his bedroom upstairs. Stared at the bed, and the floor and the bathroom, hated the whole room. Grabbed handfuls of his blankets and his pillows and threw them on the floor in the corner opposite the bed, piled them up, made a little nest, and then flopped into it, laid on his back and put his feet on the wall. Scooted down until his knees were bent and pressed almost to his chest.
That felt better. More natural. And he started to purr, rumbling and thought about why it was that Vegeta would be worried about him. It seemed the man was following him everywhere he went, glaring at everything—up to and including flies—that found the courage to approach Goku. Which was cute, he supposed, but mostly it was annoying. Goku was more than capable of taking care of himself, thank you.
Gradually the purring lulled Goku to sleep.
Vegeta wanted to scream. Because it was a few days short of two weeks, and he could smell Goku—wherever the idiot had gone to—was in labor. Of course the baka probably didn't realize that, because the first stages were rather simple. The need to find a nest, to be alone, the body silently, painlessly adjusted to its oncoming task, and then, the pain started and the labor went from a simple thing to bloody disaster of screaming and snarling.
Bulma assured him that he was capable of attending to Goku. Promised that it was actually rather simple, considering they were creatures of instinct and all Vegeta really needed to do was help by making sure the babies came out, and cut the umbilical cord. She sent him with warm towels, sterilized tools, and told him to scream for her if he thought he wasn't going to be able to handle it.
As if. He was the Prince of All Saiyans, thank you. He could handle a simple delivery. But, first he had to find the idiot. And after checking every other possible place in the house, Vegeta found his mate, sleeping, with his legs propped up against the wall, on the floor, in a nest of blankets and pillows. Tail pulled up out of the way and reflexive ruffling and unruffling. Everything was nice, quiet, the afternoon was making the room warm and nice. And then, Goku sat straight up, stuttered out a "Whoa-wo-wo." And there was a flood of liquid all around him. Then Goku instinctively curled into ball and wrapped his arms around his waist.
Joy. Vegeta thought dryly.
He set the towels and the tools on a night table, and knelt next to his mate, untied Goku's pants and looking directly into the alarmed eyes, pulled them down. "It's all right, Kakarot. They're ready to be born now."
"They're ready?" Goku yelped, "I'm not!" But his objections were stopped rather quickly when he curled back up, responding to a contraction.
Vegeta ignored his whining and pulled the pants off completely, adjusted Goku so Vegeta was between his legs, and then waited. The first one could—Bulma informed him that this was an estimate—take up to an hour to even get ready to be born. An hour worth of contractions was not exactly what Vegeta wanted to think about, but it was his mate and he promised he would be here.
Goku pulled away, closed his legs and pouted. "No," he said, "Absolutely not. I am not…AHHH!" and his legs were open again, upper body curled forward, stomach tightening even as Vegeta watched, and he was never so thankful that Kakarot's little wish had changed them both into psuedo-females. The contraction passed and Goku looked at him. "I don't want to."
Then another one—weren't these coming awfully close together? Bulma told him the contractions would be minutes apart, and they were barely even a minute apart. But then, Saiyans were impatient to a fault, it wouldn't surprise Vegeta if the whole process had—through evolutionary standards—been sped up to accommodate the race's natural impatience.
Goku pushed his body back into the pillows on this one, pulled his legs up and growled. Vegeta looked away from his mate's sweaty face, down to where the little ones were supposed to be coming from—and lo and behold—there was something happening down there!
Vegeta took one of the towels and held it close to his chest, worried and yet intrigued by the whole process. Goku snarled louder, and Kami! There was a little face looking at Vegeta. A little face that was clearly displeased by this whole birthing process, because as soon as the shoulders were free, the baby started to scream. Vegeta hooked his fingers around the baby's neck and helped it slide out. There was another rush of liquid—bloody—and the baby was kicking and screaming. Tail wagging and Vegeta had never seen or heard anything more beautiful.
"Boy!" he announced happily. He cut the cord, wrapped the baby up in the towel and handed him to Goku. The man was smiling, he kissed his son's forehead and sighed a happy little sigh. "Say hello to Bardock," Vegeta prompted.
Goku smiled and whispered a little hello to his son. Beauty had never before been more beautiful.
Of course, now Vegeta was faced with the rather puzzling task as to what to do with the baby while he watched the other three be born. Goku couldn't very well hold him because he might accidentally crush the little one, and Vegeta couldn't hold him because he needed both arms to finish the task. Little Bardock gave his parents a dispassionate stare and then started wailing loud enough to be heard at the lookout.
Goku wrapped his hands—Kami his hands were as big as the child—around the little one, and with a tiny frown on his face, he ripped the clothe away from his chest, and pressed the little one against him. A few tiny cries later, their first born son was latched onto Goku's nipple and the man had the oddest look on his face.
But that moment of beauty was interrupted when Goku started to curl up again. Not that little Bardock really cared. He managed to free one tiny hand and was opening and closing his fist against his mother's chest. Unconcerned with what was happening around him.
An hour and a half later, the last one was born and wailing, Vegeta cursed every god he knew of that Saiyans were not equipped with more than one set of nipples. Because Vegeta was now the proud papa of three little boys and one very insistent little girl. She was born last—probably conceived during the second round of mating—and she was glaring at her father with every ounce of venom a Saiyan could muster.
Goku was purring, like a motor engine again, as the babies rested against his sweaty chest and stomach. Vegeta threw a blanket over the man's legs and moved to sit next to him, gently removing one of his sons that had fallen asleep while suckling and replacing him with his wailing daughter.
"Purr," Goku said, "They like it when we purr."
Vegeta trilled, watched his son yawn, and then curl into his arms, sound asleep. There had never been beauty like this. Never been a pride greater than this.
"He looks like you," Goku said, "Look at his spiky hair."
There was a knock at the door, and then Bulma stepped into the room. "The screaming stopped. Can I come in and see them?"
"Sure," Goku said. He was too tired and happy to really care if the whole planet paraded through his bedroom. As long as they didn't make the babies scream he wouldn't mind. Bulma inched forward, very softly, and knelt in front of them.
"Did you name them?"
Goku motioned to the baby resting on his stomach. "This one is Bardock."
Bulma picked up the sleeping baby and held him close to her, hummed in a mimic of the Saiyan's purring. "He's so… Do all Saiyans look like monkeys?"
"At birth," Vegeta said.
"Were they all boys?" Bulma asked. She laid Bardock back on his mother's stomach.
"No," Goku pointed at the one currently falling asleep as she sucked. "This is a little girl."
"Are you going to name one of them Vegeta? Isn't that the name of the whole royal family?"
Vegeta snorted. "They're all royalty. I don't see the point."
"Well, seeing how I already know what I'm going to name my son, I don't have to think about it; but did either of you think about what to name them before they were born?" Bulma moved to sit on the floor, rather than kneel, because her legs were falling asleep.
"Of course we did." Goku said, "I think we should name them…" he stopped, thought about it for a while until he sighed. "I already named one," he said, turning to look at Vegeta, "Your turn."
"Bulla," Vegeta said. "For the little girl."
"No fair, I need more time to think about this!" Goku pouted again, and Vegeta just grinned.
Yeah. I need more time to think of names! Well, I did when I posted chapter 8, but I got a name now.
Goku: Goten! I like that name.
Mirai Trunks: Uh…no. Chichi's going to name your other son that.
Vegeta: *protecting the brood*
How did you know that?
Chibi Trunks: Because! I spontaneously go from loving Gohan to loving Goten.
Vegeta: They're everywhere!
Goku: But… You and Goten are brothers!
Chibi Trunks: Nun-uh. We are both brothers to those four *points at brood* but we aren't brothers to each other.
Goku: Huh. Why not?
Chibi: Because the author is a hentai and she likes it when we get it on.
Goku: But, but, but… You're so small, and cute.
Chibi: So? You started out as a man.