Chapter Text
The buzzing of the machine paired with the stinging pain in Vegeta’s hip was, predictably, exactly what he needed, given the day he’s had. He had been waiting to get his hips tattooed for a long time, and while Emma was his go to artist, she was a lot of people’s go to artist, and after a few months of not having that numbing pain and new, beautiful work on his skin, Vegeta was becoming antsy, to use the polite term.
He’d been on her table for a few hours now, after she spent a good half hour making sure the stencils lined up perfectly, she got to work on the two black and grey origami dragons that wrapped around his hip bones and ended near the center of his pelvis. His lean body wasn’t lending nicely to this pain, the needles vibrated on his nerves, and not in the good way. He kept having to flex the foot corresponding to whatever side she was working on, just to keep his legs from seizing up.
Vegeta was no stranger to this, though. Getting his legs tattooed always irritated nerves, it was a rite of passage in a way. Instead of asking for a break or complaining, Vegeta laid back on his cling film-wrapped pillow and scrolled through his phone, looking at street art installations from a few pages he followed on instagram, along with updates from the various tattoo artists he also followed.
Once his phone bored him he sat it on his chest and drifted off into an almost-nap, which was only deterred by the buzzing.
The open plan tattoo parlor had paper designs plastered from wall to wall, and the booths of each artist were separated by japanese style folding privacy screens. Each one had different designs printed on them in the style of their owner. Cabinets held bottles of color and black ink, vaseline, aluminum foil, grip tape, ink pots, disinfectant, and many other wares that a tattoo studio would need. An aquarium with several axolotls sat against the far wall, backlit with gentle colors.
Vegeta was in here, normally, every couple of weeks. He’d promised Emma that she wouldn’t see any fresh self-inflicted injuries anymore, in exchange for having a designated spot in her schedule if he wanted it. With the Halloween season come and past, she was mostly too busy to see him lately.
“You’re quiet today, Vegeta.”
Emma passed a patch of skin several times to darken the color, Vegeta held his wince.
“I’m always quiet.”
“But it’s weird. You at least bitch at me about something, but you haven’t complained once since you came in.”
He lifted his head, folding the pillow underneath his neck for an inclined angle, looking down at her with a tight, fake smile. “I’m trying to have a more positive approach on life.”
Emma laughed, taking a moment to fill her needles with more ink. “You’re a fucker. Seriously, what have you been up to?”
Vegeta blinked for a moment, pursing his lips and sorting through his memories starting from the beginning of September.
“What I’ve always been up to, I guess. I got to rough some guys up at work during the holiday, but other than that I’ve been doing the normal. Drinking, smoking, the works.”
“I don’t approve of your alternative self harm, Vegeta.”
“You are my alternative self harm, Emma.” He imitated her voice badly. She pinched his opposite leg.
After another few quiet minutes, Emma rinsed her machine, and dipped it in a pot of white ink.
“Fuck me,” Vegeta mumbled.
“Don’t be a baby. It’ll be quick.”
Vegeta gritted his teeth as she worked on the highlights, now entering the part of the process that always made him hesitant to get more tattoos. It never worked.
The dry wipe downs were almost worse, it felt like, even with her light hand, Emma was rubbing a grater over his already bloodied skin. When she placed the paper towel over the sensitive bits and doused it with cool fluid though, that, more than most things, made the entire process worth it ten times over.
“You’re all done, kid,”
Vegeta rolled his eyes.
“I know I don’t have to tell you what to do, but here’s some balm anyway, you’re probably nearly out.”
Vegeta kind of hated that they’ve known each other for long enough that Emma could estimate his tattoo-care-regiment expenditures. He took the pot and shoved it in his bag. With his sweatpants riding very low on his hips, Emma led him to cover the pubic hair that was showing, the tattoos just barely being exposed beyond his wrist. While she took the photos, he cursed the idea of having to regrow the hairs on his stomach, but he thought that pubes looked weird without a ‘happy-trail’.
Emma put her phone away and washed her hands again to wrap up the fresh ink, laying a sheet of cling film over each hip and taping it into place with cream-colored masking tape.
“And there you go. All better, aren’t you?”
Vegeta let out a fake sigh of relief, relaxing his posture with it. “So much better, doc. You’re a real magicman.”
Emma laughed, but as Vegeta pulled out his wallet to pay her in cash, a panicked scream echoed across the room, from Blake’s booth. They shared a perplexed look, and Vegeta slowly handed over the cash, tip included. Emma began counting it, but another shout made its way to them and she had to start over.
“Thanks, Vegeta. Uh, I’m gonna,” She pocketed the money and motioned to the back of the studio, where the sound of a machine buzzing started and stopped unpredictably.
Vegeta nodded at her, reaching for the hand sanitizer once she turned her back, damning his curious tendencies.
He crossed the ocean of sparkling black tile, peeking his head around Blake’s privacy screen to see a large man on his table. Blake sat impatiently on his yoga-ball office roller, quietly trying to talk this man out of his panic.
Normally, Vegeta would roll his eyes at these kinds of people. Why get a tattoo if you know you’re going to be a baby about it, he would say. But something about the guy on the table struck him in a way that he couldn’t recognize. He stepped forward.
Before Emma could offer her assistance, Vegeta spoke up, flapping his hands dry of sanitizer. “Need some help?”
Blake shook his head. “I think he’s just nervous. You okay, big guy?”
The man on the table shook but said nothing.
Vegeta stepped further in. “Can I hold him down for you?”
The man jumped, twisting so he was on his side instead of his belly, face red. “No! You don’t have to do that.”
Blake looked up at Vegeta helplessly, shrugging and placing his elbows on his knees to protect the integrity of his sterile hands. “I get nervous ones all the time, it’s okay. Besides,” he glanced at Emma, “I think legally I can’t let you touch my client.”
Vegeta nodded, preparing to go as a small voice called over to him.
“Can you help?”
He turned, tilting his head at the man. His watery eyes pierced him, and without realizing, Vegeta was walking toward him.
”I have the, I don’t remember the word. Needle-phobia. But this is really important to me, y’know? So can you help? I just need someone to talk to me.”
Vegeta pulled his sweatpants up past his hips to keep the elastic off his tender flesh, and went to sit on the floor in front of the table, looking up at Blake’s client as he settled back into position.
“Thank you,” He reached out, brushing his fingers over Vegeta's. “I’m Goku.”
Vegeta looked at his own hand, for a second not believing it was his own. He wrapped his fingers around Goku’s loosely, “Vegeta.”
Blake’s machine started to buzz again, and the panic in Goku’s eyes returned. Vegeta tightened his grip around him, trying his best to keep him calm.
Distract him. Don’t ask him anything relating to the tattoo.
“What did you have for breakfast today?”
The expression on Goku’s face shifted into a thoughtful one. “Eggs, for sure. Scrambled with ham and cheese mixed in.”
“That sounds nice, what else?”
“Lots of toast. Why?”
Vegeta shook his head, “I’m curious.”
Goku pinched his eyes shut, shaking his head. “This isn’t working.” The tension in his shoulders was returning, and he almost turned over one of them to look back at Blake working on his leg, but Vegeta reached out.
“How about some music, then? I know the machines can get loud. Grates on your nerves sometimes, don’t it?”
Vegeta reached in his pocket and untangled his headphones, shoving the jack in the port at the bottom. He handed both buds to Goku to sort out as he found something to play.
Goku looked between Vegeta and the headphones, putting one in his left ear and handing the other back. An invitation.
Vegeta looked at him as if he might explode, but took the bud back anyway, scooting closer to put it in his ear.
“You probably don’t like the stuff I listen to.”
Goku laid his empty ear down on his folded arm to block the buzzing. His eyes slid shut, his whole body relaxing in a gentle exorcism. “Try me.”
Vegeta hesitated, phone sitting dead weight in his hand as he watched Goku breathe. His eyes were moving behind the lids, thinking about something. Emma had long left to clean up her station.
Shaking himself from it, Vegeta hit shuffle.
The volume was low to begin with, luckily enough a lighter song with a lilting chord progression for an intro, and a deep tenor voice to guide them through a melancholy tune. Goku wore a small grin.
The next was less lucky; Vegeta assumed that Goku wouldn’t enjoy heavy drums and growling vocals, but there was no complaint. For a moment Vegeta tricked himself into thinking he saw Goku tapping his fingers in time with the rhythm guitar.
Every song was similar but distinct from the last. Vegeta was almost annoyed at Goku for not complaining about any of them, even the ones Vegeta would be embarrassed to play out loud. It’d been a while since he got to argue with anyone about what ‘good’ music was.
The design Goku chose to have done was a simple one, a feminine, thin-lined flower that Vegeta didn’t recognize. Blake was done with him before an hour had been used up.
Goku winced at the dry rubbing, and Vegeta squeezed his fingers gently, sympathetic. But the machine was off, Goku removed the bud from his ear and handed it back to Vegeta with a grateful smile.
“Not too bad?”
He shook his head, lifting his leg so Blake could tape it. “Not bad. Thanks to you and your charity.”
Vegeta barked a laugh, shoving his earbuds and phone back into his pocket.
With Goku upright, Vegeta’s mouth moved without his permission, quiet.
“You look familiar. Have we seen each other somewhere?”
Goku looked at his face for a long time, searching. Vegeta tugged the front of his shirt down to cool his neck.
“No. I don’t recognize you. Maybe you’ve seen me across the street? I go there pretty often.”
Vegeta peered around the privacy screen and nearly choked laughing. “The florist?”
“It’s… More of a botanical nursery. They do flower arrangements but I usually just go for the vegetable starters and stuff.”
“That’s it, I’m leaving.” Vegeta grabbed his hoodie from the floor and looked at Goku incredulously. "I’m sorry. If we talk at any more depth, we will fall victim to the tattoo-flower-shop trope, and you’ll never get rid of me.”
“What are you talking about?” Goku laughed, confused and beside himself.
“Those are the rules, Goku. I didn’t make them up.” Vegeta neglected to actually leave. He was joking, after all. But Goku didn’t seem to want him to go.
He looked at Vegeta for a long moment. “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”
Vegeta quite felt like falling over. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not!” Goku blushed, standing in a way that kept pressure off his leg. “Do you wanna hang out?”
Out of the corner of Vegeta’s eye Blake shook his head and dumped a ball of tin foil and plastic wrap in the garbage. A rush of defiance washed over Vegeta like wind and he nodded.
“Show me what you do for fun.”
Goku practically beamed, waiting for Vegeta to fix his pants and grab his bag so they could go. He handed Blake a little roll of cash and held his hand out to Vegeta.
Vegeta assumed that Goku held his hand during his session for comfort, but it seemed that he was just a touchy man in general. Vegeta, half frustrated, knew he had no skill at saying ‘no’ to people, but he hadn’t had any physical contact with anyone in so long, save for Emma and the odd occasion that his security guard job turned out to be good for something. He took Goku’s hand, and immediately his palms were too warm.
They crossed the street together, Goku leading the way. Vegeta nearly laughed out loud but kept it to himself. He’d never had a good look at this store, even though Emma’s booth was toward the front of the shop with its bay windows tinted but still look-through-able. He was usually napping.
The Victorian style carpentry was painted a soft, almost white sage green. Real life physical window shutters with actual hinges that moved swayed gently in the wind, creaking slightly. In front of the windows and the concrete steps were wooden tables of flower baskets, hanging and otherwise, full of blooming chrysanthemums. A sandwich board sign was to the side, artfully painted with chalk swirls and colorful 2D flowers. ‘Hearty Succulents 3 for 2’.
Vegeta looked up to analyze Goku’s face, his sparkling eyes lit up at the open front door, seeing something inside that Vegeta hadn’t noticed. Goku all but dragged him up the steps and into the building, the smell of flowers puffing around him like a soft blanket, a small space heater on the other side of the room whirring back and forth. Like walking into a different universe.
The shop was, now that Vegeta was inside, clearly an old house converted into a shop. Loose, creaking boards lined the floors, the windows he now saw were back against the point of sale counter, the same green paint on the outside was in here as well, but discolored in neat rectangles where hanging prints used to be. In their place were hutch-like bookcases filled with shorter plants. Goku rushed over to them, admiring the brightly colored pots that Vegeta could say looked like different animals.
With his new friend actively forgetting about him, Vegeta made his own way around the shop to look at all the autumnal plants.
He’d never bothered with nature, really. The most he got out of it was kicking fluffy patches of dandelions and watching the seeds scatter. Cattail reeds were another thing, but he hadn’t even seen one since he was a kid.
Goku muttered happily across the room. Vegeta looked over his shoulder, watching him skirt his fingers over a delicate waxy leaf. He was a little endearing, as dangerous as it was to admit. A large monstera sat in the corner with a little paper sign hanging on the edge of the pot, ‘Not for Sale’. Vegeta stuck a finger through one of the holes in the broad leaves and smiled. To his left now another narrow door sat ajar, leading into a conservatory space. He stepped through, muggy air clawing at his skin and making him uncomfortable. The room was large, the glass ceiling made the space bright, with the sun just peeking out of the sweeping clouds. Sprouting plants in tiny pots on shelves lined the walls, helped along with tube bulbs that shone in an almost blue hue. The center of the room held tables of more developed seedlings, their spindly grass blades reaching high, trying very hard to be good little plants. Vegeta serpented around the room, reading the little wooden popsicle sticks in the soil. Basil, tomato, rosemary, squash, cabbage, rhubarb, turnip, radish. His head began to spin, and he stopped reading.
With a deep breath he finally noticed the rich aroma of wet dirt. The delicious decay of nature, even augmented, begged to awaken something in him, even though he wouldn’t call himself a nature spirit.
“Oh, hello.” A feminine voice called out, followed by the creak and shut of a door, “I’d have come out if I heard you, my apologies.”
Vegeta turned, mouth open to respond. His voice faded dead in his throat; the woman was far taller than he would’ve expected any woman to be, with full, voluminous blonde curls reminiscent of times long past. She had tied it up in a red bow, Vegeta thought of that war campaign poster but couldn’t remember the name.
“No worries, my… Friend brought me here, said he wanted me to see it. It’s lovely.”
She set the wooden crate she was carrying on the floor, pulling out palm-sized terracotta pots and lining them neatly on a shelf. “Why thank you. It’s just my wife and I, y’know. We do our best to keep things spick and span to make a good impression on folks like you.”
Vegeta couldn’t help a small smile at her. She had a light, motherly southern accent that he didn’t hear in this area often. It came as a nice surprise. When she stood from terracotta lining Vegeta saw that she wore a baby blue button shirt with the sleeves rolled past her elbows, and dark, greenish-brown denim pants, but the brown may have been from dirt. A tool belt strapped around her hips held standard gardening tools and a pair of gloves.
“I didn’t get your name.”
“Vegeta.”
“ Vegeta. I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere.” A thoughtful look came over her eyes for a moment before she shrugged. “Oh well.” She wiped her hands on her pants (definitely dirt), and trotted over, holding one out for a shake, “My government name is Launch, but you can call me Lou just like everyone else.”
Vegeta took her outstretched hand.
“Rosie!” He scared himself, pulling his arm away.
Lou looked at him curiously before laughing and reaching up to straighten her bow, “Oh, I see! Well, you can call me Rosie, then.”
Despite himself, Vegeta smiled. Launch-Lou-Rosie was a lovely lady, one with class. Vegeta didn’t meet many people with class these days, so Miss Launch-Lou-Rosie was a breath of fresh air.
Goku sidled into the room, twisting his wide shoulders to shimmy though the folding doorway.
Launch-Lou-Rosie fretted over herself for a moment before yanking him into a big hug, practically jumping up and down in her Toms.
“Oh, Goku. It’s been forever!”
Goku laughed and put one hand on the small of her back, giving Vegeta a thumbs up with the other. “Lou, it’s only been a week.”
She smacked his shoulder playfully, “Me and the missus need you so we can pay our rent, you know that.” Her lighthearted tone helped Vegeta to relax his shoulders. He wasn’t an outsider in this room, which was an unfamiliar sensation.
“How is Bulma? She’s the one I haven’t seen in ages.”
Lou shrugged with a cockeyed smile. “You know how she is, sweet thing.”
“Still sick?”
She nodded somberly. “I want to worry about her but I know I can’t. She says-”
“She can feel it in her toes.” Goku said with her in unison, looking down at their shoes. “If there's anything I can do to help…”
She nodded, pulling a deep swallow into her throat. With a shake of her hands, she turned. “Sorry, Vegeta, you know how running into old friends is.”
Vegeta decided to let her believe that he did know how it is.
“Actually Lou, Vegeta’s mine. I brought him here.”
“Oh!” She beamed, “Well that makes a whole load of sense, now doesn’t it? I thought it was quiet in here. Do you need helping with anything?”
“Only if you’re in the market for squash. My patch spoiled last season, damn crows.”
Vegeta pointed to one of the nearer tables with tiny plants with soft, ovular leaves.
Lou and Goku both looked at him for a moment too long before Goku offered his quiet thanks.
“What were the two of you getting up to after this?” Lou held her hands behind her back and stepped wide around the floor, clomping the soles of her shoes down loudly.
Goku didn’t look up from his seedling inspection, shrugging. “I don’t know, we only met just an hour ago.”
She laughed, her mouth open wide with a splitting smile. “That’s our Goku.”
“What do you think we should get up to, Rosie?”
“Rosie?” Goku raised his head for that one.
Vegeta pointed to Lou’s head, and she cradled her chin in her interlaced fingers cutely.
“The Riveter!” She laughed again. “As far as your weekend activities, I’m not sure what you’re into, Vegeta, but it don’t look like anything Goku’s into.” She looked between the two of them, a half smirk threatening her lips. “What do you like to do?”
Vegeta couldn’t answer that, and he knew it. He also knew good ways to cop out of answering questions for real, so he smiled, tight and fake like he did at Emma. “I was thinking I could save all that for a few dates in.”
“Ohh, saucy.” Lou wiggled her shoulders, and Goku said nothing. “Goku, what about going to the lake? You like going to the lake don’t you? It’s not even cold yet.”
Goku nodded, selecting two seedlings, holding one in each hand. “Do you know how to skip rocks?”
It took Vegeta a moment to realize Goku was talking to him. “I’ve never tried, I can’t imagine it’s that hard.”
“Lake it is. Let’s go.”
The three of them sidled back out into the main store area, Lou takingher station behind the counter, picking at bubbles in the lacquer. “Do you need anything else?”
“I think this is it for today. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
They both laughed, though Vegeta couldn’t quite pinpoint what was funny. He stood aside, fingering the monstera again as Lou cashed Goku out.
“Don’t forget, Goku.” She called after them, “Next month, half pride! Bring in your flag, you get ten percent off.”
He saluted, blushing. “Like I could forget.”
They left, not closing the door behind themselves, and headed uptown on the sidewalk.
After a moment Vegeta tilted his head over to Goku, not looking away from his feet, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie.
“Half pride?”
Goku reached up and rubbed at the back of his head. “Yeah, you know how some places do a ‘Christmas in July’ type thing? We have a half-pride-month kind of thing, so each December the local queers get together and have coffee or tea or whatever and kbitz like old ladies, and shit. It’s a good time.”
“No marching?” Vegeta found himself smiling at the notion.
“Fuck no,” Goku laughed, “It’s December. Too cold for a parade. We just like to catch up with each other.”
“What, is it a club or secret society or something? Sounds pretty exclusive.” He kicked a bean shaped pebble down the sidewalk.
Goku laughed, “No, of course it’s not exclusive. It’s not that big of a town, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it yet.”
Vegeta shrugged, “I just come here for Emma’s ink, I live like half an hour away, up in the city.
“Ah,” Goku fished in his pocket. “Well, if you ever find yourself starving for friends,” He handed Vegeta a business card from his wallet. “We meet every Thursday afternoon, five o’clock usually. And next month the celebrations are really kicking up.”
Vegeta took the card and inspected it, there were ached rainbows on every corner, surrounding a bordered address two blocks away from them. There was also a phone number he didn’t recognize.
“That is,” Goku cleared his throat, “If you’re queer. We appreciate allies and all, but…”
Vegeta nodded, “Understood.” He didn’t feel like talking about his orientation with Goku yet. Maybe someday.
Vegeta noted that they were walking away from his car, deeper into the town.
“I thought you said we were going to a lake?”
Goku smiled down at him. “We are. It’s not a long walk.”
And like a fool, Vegeta followed.