When Vegeta wakes up on the bathroom floor with a painfully dry mouth and a feeling like a hot lightbulb has shattered inside his skull, he believes for a few moments that he must be dead. But then he remembers that he’s literally been dead—twice—and this feels orders of magnitude worse. Thankfully, there are some salient clues as to how badly he’s fucked up: the sour aftertaste of vomit in his mouth and the terrifying black void where his memories of the night should be make it obvious what’s happened.
He’s not sure he’s ever been this drunk.
He has no idea how much time he’s missing, or how long he’s been unconscious, or what the fuck he was doing in between. A few glimpses of memory seep through the inky blackout clouding his brain, but the images that come to him are patchy and incoherent, like trying to piece together a puzzle under a strobe light. The last thing he remembers with any clarity is Bulma demanding a round of shots, and Krillin producing a bottle of tequila to the groans and protests of everyone.
Except for Vegeta. He had been several drinks deep at that point, and had demanded—with a boldness that only came from a bottle—that Goku face him in a drinking contest.
Unfortunately, Goku had risen to the challenge.
Vegeta tries to remember what happened next—but it’s all a dim blur. Panic and nausea quickly rise in his throat in equal measure, bubbling up until he’s dry heaving on his hands and knees. His efforts only earn him a sharper pain between his temples that leaves his ears ringing so loudly that he almost doesn’t hear the voice that suddenly calls to him through the bathroom door.
“Vegeta?” It’s Goku’s voice, and Vegeta’s confusion only mounts as the panicked thought of what the fuck is Kakarot doing in my bedroom races through Vegeta’s mind.
"Vegeta?” Goku asks again, adding a couple knocks this time. “You—you’ve been in there for awhile, are you okay?”
“No, Kakarot, I am not okay!” Vegeta shouts back before covering his mouth with his hand, swallowing down the urge to wretch.
The door clicks open, and in the corner of his eye, Vegeta sees Goku step through the doorway.
He looks about as terrible as Vegeta feels: his hair is somehow messier than usual, like he’d been sleeping on it, and the suit he’d worn to the party is rumpled, shirt untucked and half-unbuttoned, his tie and jacket long gone. A red flush colours his cheeks in uneven blotches.
“W-wow, Vegeta,” Goku says, stuttering over a hiccup. “You, uh, you don’t look so good.”
It’s immediately obvious to Vegeta that Goku isn’t weathering the effects of the alcohol so well either, but then, at least he’s not the one crumpled over in pain on the bathroom floor.
“Kakarot,” Vegeta groans, reaching out to grab Goku’s pant-leg as he steps closer to Vegeta. “Kakarot… I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying, Vegeta.”
Vegeta takes a moment to dry-heave over the toilet again before swallowing down a deep, shuddering breath. Finally, he turns his head to look at Goku directly. “Then kill me.”
Goku shakes his head before leaning over and offering his hand to Vegeta. “C’mere, let me help you up.”
Vegeta eyes Goku’s hand warily for a moment, but quickly realizes that whatever remains of his dignity is long gone, extinguished in tequila and shame. He accepts Goku’s hand without complaint, and pulls himself up.
His world immediately spins around him in a sickening blur, and the detonation of pain in his skull is enough to nearly make his knees buckle. He lurches away from Goku, grabbing the sink for support.
“What the hell happened after the tequila, anyway?” Vegeta asks, squeezing his eyes shut as if it might be enough to block out the pain and nausea. It isn’t.
Goku doesn’t answer, and even in the sluggish fog of his hangover, Vegeta finds that odd. He opens his eyes and looks at Goku. Goku’s face is a shade of red that’s gone far beyond a typical liquor flush.
“Don’t… don’t you remember?” Goku says weakly.
A jolt of panic runs the length of Vegeta’s spine and settles in his gut. “Remember what?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.
Goku drags his hands across his face and through his hair. “Oh, Kami, you really don’t remember?”
“Remember what,” Vegeta repeats, his voice a low snarl this time.
“Okay,” Goku says, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “Okay,” he says again. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”
Vegeta remembers Krillin and Yamcha hollering as he slammed back shot after shot. He remembers laughing uproariously when Goku finally gagged and tapped out.
“I remember challenging you to a drinking game,” he says. “And winning,” he quickly adds.
“Well, if you consider blacking out and ending up curled on your bathroom floor ‘winning’—"
“Quit the bullshit, Kakarot,” Vegeta cuts him off, and looks back at the sink. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and is distantly horrified by how haggard he looks. “What happened next?”
Goku chews on his bottom lip. “Do you remember when Bulma broke out the bottle of champagne? Just before midnight?”
Vegeta’s eyes widen at that. Had they seriously kept drinking after that?
“No, I don’t remember—” he says, but then suddenly does: a flashbulb memory rises fully-formed from the murk of his blackout, unspooling before he can stop it. He sees Bulma pouring a round of drinks into champagne flutes, and Vegeta remembers throwing his drink back in one swallow as the New Year’s countdown started on the big screen TV in the center of the room. But Vegeta wasn’t watching that, or joining in with the others as they counted down the last moments of the year—no, his attention had been drawn only to Goku. He hadn’t been able to pull his gaze away from Goku’s mouth, the way his lips touched the rim of his glass, how fucking good he looked in his suit. And between the champagne and the heady rush of the festivities around him, Vegeta’s inhibitions had been burnt away to nothing, and he couldn’t find the sense to stop himself before he reached out, grabbed Goku by his tie, pulled him in and—
“I fucking didn’t,” he says hoarsely, pressing his fingers against his lips like they had suddenly been scalded.
Goku reaches behind his neck and rubs the back of his head. “Well, yeah, you kinda did.”
Vegeta turns away from the sink, facing Goku. The bathroom feels suddenly uncomfortably small in the space between them.
“And then what?” he demands.
“Well, uh, you made me dance with you while you sang—to be honest though, I don’t think you really knew the lyrics to ‘Auld Lang Syne’—I mean, who does, but—”
“No, after that,” Vegeta says, his voice icy as he traps Goku in the corner. “Why the fuck did you end up in my bedroom?”
“W-well, it was later, after everyone had left,” Goku goes on, his eyes looking everywhere in the bathroom except at Vegeta. “I—I was actually passed out downstairs, I don’t even know how long I was out for, but I woke up suddenly—I didn’t know where you were, but I suddenly felt your ki spiking, and I… I panicked, thinking you weren’t okay—so I used Instant Transmission and I ended up here, and I thought I could hear you in the bathroom, so—”
Vegeta groans as he rubs at his temples. He feels like he’s going to be sick again.
“Where’s Bulma?” Vegeta asks abruptly.
“What? Passed out on a couch, last I saw of her—why?”
“Because she knows where the painkillers are,” Vegeta mutters as he finally moves past Goku and into his bedroom. “And my head feels like it’s going to fucking explode.”
Vegeta throws open the door to his bedroom and stumbles down the corridor, hand pressed across his forehead as he moves toward the staircase. Goku scrambles to catch up with him.
“Hey—where are you going—”
“Kitchen,” Vegeta barks. “I need something to drink.”
“Geeze, I think we’ve had enough—”
“For the dehydration, you idiot,” Vegeta says over his shoulder as he staggers down to the ground floor.
Goku doesn’t respond to the insult. “Fair,” he says, trailing in Vegeta’s wake. “I’ve got a nasty headache, too, to be honest with you.”
Vegeta doesn’t say anything else, his migraine spiralling to new, piercing heights as he sees the first rays of sun spill in through a nearby bank of windows. A fresh coat of January snow blankets the ground beyond, sparkling beneath the sunrise, each glimmer feeling like a knifepoint pressing against his eyes. Vegeta squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the rest of the way to the kitchen.
He shouldn’t be surprised by the mess he finds waiting there. Plates of half-eaten food litter the table and counters, bottles and glasses and red, plastic cups tossed across every surface and spilling across the floor—the typical fallout from a Capsule Corp. party. Vegeta eyes a nearby can of open beer, briefly contemplating a hair-of-the-dog solution to his current suffering, but his stomach immediately turns at the thought.
He pushes through the mess of bottles, hoping to find some fruit juice, or a sports drink, but settles instead on a bottle of some soft drink he’s unfamiliar with—“Sprite,” according to the graphic on the label. It’s uncapped and half-empty, and the nutritional label on the side indicates that it’s far from the perfect electrolyte balance he’s looking for, but he figures it will have to do. He takes a deep swig from the bottle, and winces at the flat citrus flavor that hits the back of his tongue.
“Can I have some?”
Goku’s voice feels uncomfortably close, and Vegeta turns his head to see Goku hovering just behind him. He immediately bristles at the closeness.
“Knock yourself out,” Vegeta grunts before passing the drink to him. Goku noisily chugs from it, and Vegeta busies himself by opening the kitchen junk drawer, making every effort to ignore Goku’s presence.
Vegeta rifles through the drawer, pushing through the mess until he digs out a bottle of Tylenol. He squints at the label, wondering if it really matters that’s it’s clearly several months past its expiration date. But at this point, he’s well out of fucks to give, and pops open the cap before shaking a few tablets into his hand and slamming them into his mouth to dry-swallow them.
“Here,” he mutters before tossing the bottle to Goku, who fumbles with it for a moment before securing it between his palms. “For the headache,” Vegeta adds.
“I dunno,” Goku says, rolling the bottle in his hand and glimpsing at the label. “Don’t you think this might be, like, bad for your liver or something?”
Vegeta snorts as he bumps the drawer closed with the side of his hip.
“I feel we’re well past the point of considering what’s healthy for our livers,” he says, plucking a plastic cup from the counter and moving toward the sink, where he fills it with tap-water. “Unless you have some senzu beans on you by any chance, take the damn Tylenol.”
“I’m not giving you a senzu bean just because we had too much to drink last night,” Goku murmurs before he taps out a couple of the tablets for himself and washes them down with a mouthful of Sprite.
“Well you should,” Vegeta snaps as he turns to leave. “Considering you’re partially responsible for this entire mess.”
“Excuse me?” Goku says to Vegeta’s back. “How am I responsible for this?”
“I said partially—no one forced you to accept my drinking challenge.”
“Come on, Vegeta, now you’re being ridiculous—hey, where are you going?”
“Back to my bedroom,” Vegeta mutters around the lip of his cup before taking a sip of water. “To sleep the rest of this fucking hangover off, obviously.”
Goku runs to catch up with Vegeta as he leaves the kitchen and turns back onto the staircase. “Hey! You can’t just leave me here—”
“I can, actually, and I will.”
Vegeta is halfway up the steps when he finally stops, looking over his shoulder to level a glare in Goku’s direction. Goku is only a couple steps below him, meeting Vegeta with a glare of his own.
“Go home, Kakarot,” he says, and turns to take another step up the stairs, but suddenly feels Goku’s hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back.
“So, what?” Goku says, and when Vegeta turns to look at him again he can see that a red flush has risen up Goku’s neck and spread across his cheeks. “You’re just gonna pretend like nothing happened last night?”
“Precisely,” Vegeta says, sneering as he pulls his arm from Goku’s grip. “My only regret is not drinking enough to actually forget this entire episode. Maybe when Bulma wakes up, I’ll ask to borrow the Dragon Radar—I’m sure Shenron must have the power to erase one night’s worth of regrettable memories.”
“That’s not fair, Vegeta,” Goku calls out as Vegeta storms up the last of the steps, still following close behind. “I know we were drunk, but you know what? A drunk mouth speaks a sober heart.”
“Ah, of course. In vino veritas ,” Vegeta says with a roll of the eyes. “I’m familiar with the concept, Kakarot. I also consider it to be complete and utter bullshit.”
When Vegeta reaches his bedroom, he steps inside and tries to slam the door behind him, but Goku stops it with an outstretched palm.
“Would you fuck off?” Vegeta snaps at him, but when he turns to face him, he’s immediately stilled by the dark intensity suddenly clouding Goku’s eyes.
“No,” Goku says in a voice that rides the line between growl and whisper, and Vegeta’s eyes open wide as he literally fucking quivers at the sound of it. For a moment, he sways where he stands, like he’s just been dealt a blow to the gut. Then before he can react, Goku moves toward him far too quickly for a man who’s been drinking all night, and suddenly their bodies are pressed together, Goku’s mouth crushed against his own.
Vegeta’s eyes fly open at the feeling of Goku’s tongue in his mouth. He tastes like stale liquor and fucking Sprite, but somehow it’s still enough to make Vegeta feel drunk all over again, and he has to grab the front of Goku’s shirt with both hands to steady himself. Goku half-moans, half-growls against his lips, and Vegeta shivers again, his dick already straining against the front of his pants. He gasps when he finally pulls away, surfacing for air.
“For fuck’s sake,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut as Goku kisses hungrily against his throat instead. Goku freezes when he hears Vegeta curse, and Vegeta nearly curses again when Goku pulls his lips away.
“Vegeta, I—” he begins, but Vegeta doesn’t have the patience.
“Shut up,” Vegeta says, and crushes his lips against Goku’s before another idiotic word can leave his mouth.
Vegeta’s fists tighten their grip on Goku’s shirt, and he kicks the door closed before pulling Goku backwards. Soon, they’re both stumbling onto Vegeta’s bed, their lips refusing to break apart, their kiss somehow harder and deeper than what they had shared at the stroke of midnight. This time, Vegeta has no excuses to hide behind as he greedily tastes Goku’s mouth—this time, he’s perfectly, painfully sober, no longer able to blame the fire coursing through his veins on tequila or champagne.
Vegeta feels Goku’s hands slip underneath his shirt, pushing up the material until his palms are running up the side of Vegeta’s body. At the same time, he grinds his hips into Vegeta, his own hardness pressing against Vegeta’s, and Vegeta curls his fists into Goku’s hair as he snarls against Goku’s mouth. Goku bites into Vegeta’s lip, answering with his own animalistic growl, and Vegeta is overwhelmed by how entirely Saiyan Goku’s reaction is—as he tears off Vegeta’s shirt and trails his mouth down Vegeta’s neck, teeth digging into his skin, his touch feels far more like a warrior’s than a lover’s.
But Vegeta’s never quick to admit defeat. His hand still fisted in Goku’s hair, he pulls Goku’s head away, earning a pained growl from him.
“Take off your clothes,” Vegeta orders him, his voice low and rumbling in his chest.
Goku’s mouth quirks into a grin. “And to think that just a minute ago you were telling me to fuck off—”
Vegeta’s eyes narrow into a glare as he undoes the front of his own pants, reaching down until he’s wrapped his other hand around his cock. “Shut up before I change my mind.”
Goku’s grin only widens, but he follows Vegeta’s command. Vegeta releases his hold on him, and Goku begins to unbutton his shirt as he leans away and stands up from the bed. Vegeta props himself up as he watches Goku shrug out of his shirt and slowly undo his belt. By the time Goku’s clothes are in a pile on the floor, Vegeta’s biting into his bottom lip as he continues to stroke himself—Goku looks good in a suit, but he looks even better without it.
Goku crawls back onto the bed, and the way he moves back over Vegeta’s body makes Vegeta want to be fucked into the bed until it breaks. But Vegeta somehow finds the control to contain himself—instead, he merely tightens his grip and strokes himself harder.
“Hey,” Goku says. “Let me help you with that.”
Vegeta pauses as Goku grabs Vegeta’s pants and pulls them off, freeing Vegeta completely. Vegeta groans as Goku pulls Vegeta’s hand away, replacing it with one of his own. His touch is lighter than Vegeta’s, softer, but when he leans down to press a kiss to the tip of Vegeta’s cock, Vegeta’s head falls back with a soft gasp.
“Kakarot,” he hisses, and his fingers snake into Goku’s hair once again.
Goku works quickly, pressing a line of hot, wet kisses down the length of Vegeta’s shaft, then running the flat of his tongue back up until he’s licking at the tip again, and Vegeta’s left writhing against the bedsheets. Then Goku opens his lips, taking the tip into his mouth, and Vegeta curses under his breath as Goku dips down the entire length of him.
Vegeta lies back, so overwhelmed with the feeling of Goku’s mouth on his cock that the throbbing ache in his head feels like it’s dulled to nothing. Goku’s tongue feels luxurious against his flesh, and Vegeta’s hips buck upward reflexively until he’s pushed himself into Goku’s throat, and Vegeta feels like he’s almost ready to finish the moment Goku starts moaning around the base of his dick.
“Fuck,” Vegeta hisses before giving a sharp yank on Goku’s hair, pulling Goku’s mouth away.
“Hey,” Goku splutters, coughing as Vegeta releases his hair. “Why did you—”
But Vegeta is already turned on his side, ignoring Goku’s protests as he rummages through a drawer in his bedside table. He quickly pulls out what he’s looking for, and lobs it in Goku’s direction.
Goku reflexively catches the bottle of lube with one hand, leaning back to kneel on both knees as he examines the label.
“Uh," He says, rolling it over to look at the blue Capsule Corp. logo on the back. “What am I supposed to—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Vegeta huffs before grabbing the bottle back. Goku raises an eyebrow but doesn’t move as Vegeta flips the cap and squeezes some of it out into his palm.
“H-hey,” Goku gasps as Vegeta suddenly moves toward him and wraps his hand around Goku’s dick, slicking his length before Goku has the chance to properly react. Goku’s breath hitches in his throat, and Vegeta watches as his chest and throat begin to flush red with arousal. Goku feels thick and hard in Vegeta’s hand, and Vegeta licks his lips as he strokes him. Goku groans, bracing against against Vegeta’s shoulders as Vegeta pumps him harder, but Vegeta takes that moment to suddenly let go, and Goku looks down at him with a pained frown.
“Why did you stop?” he says, panting to catch his breath.
“I didn’t,” Vegeta growls, and he grabs Goku by the waist, pulling Goku down as he falls back against the mattress, Goku’s body falling flush against his.
Goku lets out a strangled noise of surprise that’s immediately silenced when Vegeta presses their lips together. Vegeta spreads his legs, lifting his hips until their bodies are rubbing together with a delicious friction, and Goku pulls his mouth away with a gasp.
“Vegeta,” he says, his voice a breathless whine as he grinds against Vegeta’s body.
Vegeta slides a hand through Goku’s hair, his fingers pulling through the coarse spikes as he presses his mouth to the shell of Goku’s ear.
“Well, come on then,” he hisses. “Don’t make me beg for it, Kakarot.”
The effect of Vegeta’s words are instant—immediately, he feels Goku pressing into him, hot and slick and impossibly hard, and Vegeta snarls against his lips.
It’s several moments before Goku is fully inside of him, and Vegeta grips Goku tighter as he’s filled to to the hilt with him. Goku sets a torturous pace, his strokes so deep and slow that it borders on agonizing, and his moans spill fitfully from his throat as he moves inside Vegeta. For a moment, Vegeta fears that Goku is about to finish too soon, and his fist coils tighter into Goku’s hair, pulling until Goku cries out.
“Come on,” Vegeta barks against his ear. “Is this the best you can do?”
Goku pauses, and his gaze narrows as he looks down at Vegeta. Vegeta sees that dark flicker again—a hint of his Saiyan instincts seething just beneath the surface.
Goku thrusts into him with a dizzying force, and pulls out just as hard before slamming back in. His pace quickens until it almost hurts, and soon Vegeta is struggling to catch his breath as Goku fucks him harder with each thrust.
“Better?” Goku hisses, and Vegeta is too breathless to do anything but snarl. Goku smirks before reaching between them, gripping Vegeta’s cock in his fist.
Vegeta utters a string of breathless curses as Goku’s hand strokes him—Vegeta knows he can’t hold on much longer, and hates that Goku knows exactly what he’s doing to him—but he’s overcome with a sudden swell of smug satisfaction as Goku’s breathing suddenly becomes ragged, his movements harder and erratic, and within moments, Vegeta feels Goku finish inside him.
The sound that Goku makes at the last moment is what finally does Vegeta in—a deep, trembling groan that makes Vegeta shiver until he’s coming in Goku’s hand, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head as his hips buck insistently into Goku’s grip.
For awhile there’s a heavy silence that settles over the bedroom, punctuated only by the hoarse sound of their breath in the darkness. Somehow, neither can quite meet each other’s gaze.
Vegeta closes his eyes, feeling the dip in the bed as Goku rolls off him, collapsing at Vegeta’s side. Vegeta feels more tired and lightheaded than before, but notes with a sort of distant relief that his headache is gone—by some miracle of the painkillers, or a burst of oxytocin, or both.
“That’s better,” Vegeta mutters after finally catching his breath.
“Yeah,” Goku breathes. “Happy New Year, I guess.”
Vegeta snorts. He’s never quite understood this particular holiday, or why the Earthlings assign so much meaning to it, but even he realizes this is a ridiculous way to start a new calendar year.
“Right,” Vegeta says. He feels Goku rolling over beside him, and he bristles at the feeling of Goku’s arm falling limply over his stomach, curling around his waist. Vegeta thinks that Goku must be fucking delusional if he thinks he’s in the mood for cuddling—but Vegeta’s far too tired to muster the energy it would take to shove him out of bed.
“Happy New Year, Kakarot,” Vegeta mutters in defeat.