Vegeta's black boots were virtually soundless as he landed on the grassy cliff beside the cascading blue waterfall. Ever since that first morning--how long ago was it now? It didn't matter...Kakarott had somehow...persuaded him to wear them, and the casual clothing he had donned, in place of his spandex training uniform.

The Saiyan no Ouji rested back against the rough bark of a flowering tree, closing his onyx eyes in momentary relaxation as the summer breeze ruffled through the thin cotton of his sleeveless grey shirt. Soft perfume drifted down lazily from above and the small Saiyan breathed deeply of the sweet fragrance. This place really was peaceful.

No wonder he uses it to meditate.

"Vegeta."

"Piccolo."

The tall green warrior glanced at the other fighter out of the corner one dark eye before settling out of his meditative stance onto the lush ground beside the Saiyan prince. He knew the man would come. Their strange interludes had begun about this time last summer, when both had realized the full importance of the Son family in their lives.

The man reclined leisurely back against a blooming deciduous tree, arms folded habitually across his chest, his brown tail tucked securely around his waist.

"How's the boy?"

The Saiyan no Ouji shifted and recrossed his legs at the ankle as he raised his head to look out over the water. Sunlight splashed the pool with crystallizing quality and he sighed as he finally spoke.

The Namek grunted at his question.

"Disappointed."

The prince turned his head slightly in the man's direction.

"Oh?"

Piccolo remained sternly focused on an unseen point directly before him.

"My kind are asexual." Vegeta chuckled and the Namek growled halfheartedly.

"Hn." Piccolo's brow creased in characteristic annoyance as he glared at the smirking Saiyan. Gohan would understand in time...hopefully.

"How's the father?" The Ouji's mocking grin slipped from his lips as a rosy blush tinted his high, bronze cheekbones. Vegeta cleared his throat, casting a warning glance at the Namek.

"Not asexual. Definitely not asexual." The prince scowled as the other man began to grin viciously. Kami, what an understatement! Kakarott was like the child who first discovers the sweet taste of chocolate. Getting out of the bed in the morning was a training session in itself. Not that he minded...

"And Chichi?" Piccolo's gaze strayed toward the rainbow spray of water droplets that highlighted the falling sapphire liquid.

With a harsh bark of laughter, the Saiyan prince ran a gloveless hand through his thick ebony mane.

"Still in therapy."

"Hmm."

Vegeta inhaled deeply again, relishing the heavy floral scent that blanketed his leaning form. It was somehow easy to relax like this...

"Brat spoke his first word yesterday." Piccolo swiveled ever so slightly to look at the prince.

"Gohan didn't mention that. What was it?"

A poorly suppressed smile tugged insistently at the corner of his mouth.

"Papa." The Namek nodded, almost to himself.

"Bulma must be thrilled." Vegeta shrugged, the genuine smile remaining on his lips as he allowed his lids to droop and his tension diminish.

"She's on a business trip. Kakarott insisted on calling her last night." The Saiyan snorted; Piccolo, however, could see the affection concealed behind the mask of irritation. "I swear, one would think that he was the boy's father." He continued quietly, to himself, his obsidian eyes shutting completely, "Though he was looking at me when he said it...not Kakarott."

A period of silence followed, broken only by the occasional call of a melodious bird, before Piccolo's words effectively brought it to an end.

"Gohan wants to come see his father and Trunks." Piccolo smirked. "And you." He watched as Vegeta's calm composure was disrupted, his eyes widening.

"Nani?"

The Namek laughed, resting his back against the companion tree beside the prince.

"The kid's big on family and he considers both you and I a part of that. He keeps annoying me with questions about you." The Saiyan no Ouji lifted his head and looked down incredulously at the other man.

"You're kidding."

"No." The Saiyan seemed to consider his words before letting his head fall back against the trunk of the tree.

"What a strange brat."

"Yeah. Like his father."

The two fighters shared a glance and the closest either would get to a true smile before turning away and fixing their sights on opposite points of the cliff.

"You ready for the androids?" Vegeta gnawed thoughtfully on his bottom lip before answering. His pride drove him to boast, but as he opened his mouth, all pretenses were suddenly brushed aside.

"I honestly don't know." The prince watched the white Namek's white turban bob as he nodded his head.

"Yeah."

"We still have another year." The Saiyan no Ouji's statement was little more than that. Training remained a large part of his daily routine, but now he had a...a family to consider. Vegeta shook his head as he absently studied the scattering prisms created by the steady flow of water. He never would have thought...Kami, he was the Saiyan no Ouji! Born and bred to fight and kill.

Not spend Saturday afternoons baking for Kakarott and his brat.

Or Thursday evenings on the couch watching late night television in the comfortable groove against his lover's side.

Or summer nights on a blanket under the stars telling Kakarott the bits and pieces of Saiyan history he remembered from Nappa and Radditz's conversations.

Or purring his lavender-haired demi-brat to sleep after his 3AM feeding.

Good Kami. What have I become?

"I still think about it, you know." Vegeta had been quiet--if Piccolo's senses had not been as sharp as the Saiyan's he would have thought the man asleep.

"Hmmm?" The Namek stirred gently against the tree base, stretching his long legs outward and crossing one over the other at the knee. Sighing, the Saiyan rested his chin on his chest, staring unseeingly at the hem of his dark slacks. He seemed to debate with himself before speaking.

"Destroying this pathetic mud ball." Piccolo didn't appear to have heard his words and for a moment Vegeta wondered if he was meditating again.

It really did bother him. He had the power, the means, the anger...but somehow he lacked the drive that used to pulverize entire planets into nothing more than glittering space dust.

A creamy white flower petal loosened itself from one of the blossoms above his head and fluttered down to land on his bare forearm. He was in the process of brushing it off when the Namek addressed his statement.

"So do I."

"So why don't we?" Something in the Saiyan's voice made the Namek pause before answering--the prince desired a true response, a reason for the unexpected path his life had taken, a justification for why he had never carried his mission through to any serious conclusion.

Laying one arm across his bent knee, Piccolo looked over at the confused and frustrated Saiyan prince. The man had changed dramatically in two years. He was still the same brash, confident, out-spoken bastard that he always had been. But something about Earth had calmed--not tamed, but settled his restless spirit. No, not Earth...

"It's those damn Sons," Piccolo declared, finally admitting to himself the influence Gohan had on the tall warrior. "They get under your skin."