Chapter Text
He wasn’t sure when things changed.
Slowly, to be sure, because there was no other way forward with the prickly and prideful Prince of all Saiyans. Through scorched earth rivalries and world-ending battles, he’d earned every inch he’d gained with the stubborn and volatile saiyan prince.
He didn’t regret one minute of it. Every bruised knuckle, bloody nose, and broken rib over the last two decades had been worth it. He’d turned an enemy into a dubious ally into a rival. Goku would call them friends, but he knew Vegeta would balk at the term, even after all these years.
Maybe the surly warrior couldn’t call him friend yet, but Vegeta did need him in his life—he’d said it himself. Sure, he’d kicked him away from the battlefield immediately after, but Vegeta wasn’t the sentimental type. He still needed Goku to push him, to test his limits, to keep growing, and not just in strength and power.
Well, maybe that last part was a bit self-aggrandizing on Goku’s part. He couldn’t take all the credit for Vegeta’s progress. Goku having a family might have been the reason the self-sabotaging prince had settled down, trying to find more strength and power through a family of his own, but his role as a husband and father had been his own achievement. In that arena, Vegeta outclassed him every time.
It was one of the many reasons he loved the prideful pain in his ass.
There wasn’t any one memory he could single out, no moment he could recall that tipped the scales from rivalry to adoration. The change had been so gradual that he couldn’t see it until the irrefutable proof was right in front of him.
It hadn’t even been a particularly revelatory moment.
A few weeks after the Tournament of Power, he’d appeared in his childhood friend’s living room at Capsule Corp, seeking a certain irascible saiyan prince for a trip to Beerus’ planet for more training.
He’d found the man sprawled on the couch in a rare moment of repose with his children while a childish cartoon played silently on the muted television screen. His eyes were closed, sharp features softened and lax in sleep. Bulla lay on his chest, his forearm cradling her bottom as she drooled on his dark blue training shirt, as fast asleep as her papa. Trunks was at the other end of the couch, legs tangled with Vegeta’s as he lay in a nearly identical pose to his father, one arm slung over his head, propped up on the armrest of the couch. The young teen’s eyes were also closed and a spit bubble expanded and contracted at the corner of his mouth as he clutched a textbook to his chest like he too was cradling an infant while he slept.
There was nothing about the moment that was innately Vegeta. He loved his family, of course, anyone with eyes could see that, but he didn’t broadcast his domestic life or achievements to the rest of the world—despite having legendary skills in the diaper changing arena. He tended his family with the same stoic dignity as he did everything else outside of battle.
Yet, there was something about seeing the older man, guard down and utterly relaxed in the presence of his son and daughter, that made Goku’s chest pinch in a way it hadn’t since being reunited with his family after seven years in Other World. It started as a warm, pulsing glow just beneath his sternum, and spread up to his shoulders and down his arms, making his fingertips tingle with the inexplicable urge to reach out and touch the dark flame of the other man’s hair.
Vegeta’s lips were slightly parted in his sleep as his broad, muscular chest rose and fell with steady breaths. It must have been warm, especially with a sleeping baby on his chest, because there was a light flush following the line of his regal cheekbones, and just a faint bit of color over the bridge of his nose. The color hadn’t reached the tips of his ears like it did when he blushed.
It was painfully adorable, though Goku would never, ever, ever speak of it out loud for fear of losing life or limb to the proud warrior.
Goku left him there, chest still glowing with that immutable warmth, unwilling to disturb Vegeta’s rest, and returned home to his wife. Chi-Chi barely glanced up from the clothesline where she had been hanging fresh linens when he appeared.
“Lunch isn’t ready yet, Goku. Why don’t you wash up and sit with Goten while he studies?”
When he hadn’t responded, Chi-Chi turned from her task, brow furrowed and hands on her hips.
“Earth to Goku!”
His hand drifted to the back of his head as he laughed.
“Sorry, Chi, I was kinda lost in thought there for a second.”
Her scowl turned to a bemused smile before settling into a concerned frown that accentuated the familiar lines between her brows and on either side of her mouth.
“What’s gotten into you, Goku?”
“I think I’m in love with Vegeta.”