Chapter Text
Florescent white lights covered the room with lifelessness. The sound of tapping keys and ringing phones were incessant, hovering over the hum of the overworked air conditioner.
Capsule Corp inc. was running as per usual, and despite being one of the most successful companies in the world, it's administrative offices looked like any other standard office. There were desks split by dividers, meeting rooms cordoned off by soundproof glass walls, and a small break area in a corner.
It was a Monday afternoon, probably the worst time and day of the working week. The mood of the office was at its lowest, the coffee machines were nearly empty and the weekends were yet again, four days away.
If working on Monday wasn't already a drag for the average person, imagine how much worse it was for a cranky, angsty man.
If looks could burn, Vegeta's desktop would have multiple holes in it.
He already had to wake up at five in the morning and check in early, all to fix a stupid mistake an intern did. Not only that, someone else decided to go MIA without any prior announcement, forcing Vegeta to take on his responsibilities as the only other person who understood what to do. That meant more overtime and less sleep.
If things couldn't get any worse, his computer started to stall.
"Fuck fuck fuck-" Vegeta tried clicking everywhere on the screen. The program started to white out and his mouse froze. "FUCK,"
When the screen remained still for a good minute, Vegeta gave up. He pushed back on his swivel chair and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. Losing focus on his work only made the permanent migraine pulsing against his skull more apparent.
"I'm so fucking done," he growled under his breath.
His mental state was on balancing on a tightrope. The stacks of messy papers on his desk were just a fraction of the mountain of work he had to finish. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than three hours, ate anything else but microwaved lunches or did anything but paperwork all day.
Vegeta had to do a force shut down on the computer. He looked at the pathetic machine, noticing his reflection on the black screen. He had dark circles under his eyes, his face was sunken, and his skin looked almost grey.
Gods, was that really him? When did he start looking like death?
Ironically, the job that felt like a chain on his neck was the only thing holding him from falling down a cliff.
"Wow, you look like shit,"
Vegeta jolted, almost convinced the thoughts in his head had somehow gained sentience until he looked to his right.
The ever-present eyesore, Yamcha, stood over him, a hot cup of Starbucks coffee in hand.
Vegeta found all of his coworkers overbearing and annoying, but Yamcha was a whole other breed. He had the same amount of work Vegeta had but he somehow had time for a social life. His obnoxious laughter could be heard throughout the office and one time he had committed the worst crime in human history.
He ate the lunch Vegeta had left in the communal fridge.
In summary, Vegeta wanted nothing more than to throw him in a shredder. He shot him his coldest scowl.
Yamcha stood up straight, lips pressed into a thin line. "So uh, how's it going man? Not enough sleep or something?"
Vegeta didn't answer. Yamcha swallowed.
"...the weather is pretty-"
"What do you want?"
Yamcha clutched his coffee in both hands. "Right, of course. Straight to the point. Expected of the 'employee of the month'," he laughed dryly.
Vegeta let out a low growl. If his computer wasn't busted he would've ignored this clown.
Yamcha cleared his throat. "Okay, so...the boss wanted me to invite everyone in the office for a drinking party tonight! Y'know, to celebrate the big contract we bagged the other day? So I was wondering..."
When Vegeta lifted a brow, Yamcha quickly raised a hand in surrender. "I KNOW! I know. I knew you wouldn't want to go. I told her that but she insisted you should come along. Especially since you've worked the hardest out of all of us? But if you really don't want to go I can go tell-"
"I'm not going,"
"Yup! I understand. I totally do. You're clearly very busy," Yamcha sighed. "Um...so I'll just...be going now..."
Yamcha pointed towards his desk, then slowly stalked away. Vegeta slumped further down his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He's never found any merit in attending social groups. He didn't even like drinking. Everyone was always trying to talk to everyone else and laughing when nothing was funny.
Vegeta attended a drinking party once and effectively ruined the mood by being himself. So what if he didn't feel happy that day? So what if he didn't want to chug a whole litre of beer and ruin his liver? The looks of disdain his colleagues gave him still haunted him to this day.
Shaking off the bad memories, Vegeta rolled forward on his chair and pulled open a drawer, only to realise he had ran out of pain killers.
He barely held back from slamming his drawer shut and screaming. It was already bad enough that the entire company hated him. He didn't need to be admitted to a mental asylum.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Vegeta opened his eyes. Okay, that wasn't so-
"VEGETA OUJI!"
His boss's voice echoed throughout the office. All heads turned towards him.
The headache slammed back into Vegeta's head like a truck. Vegeta lifted his head again and was met with an even bigger eyesore.
His blue-haired boss frowned at him, hands on her hips. He swore he's only ever seen her incredibly pissed or haughty.
He buried his face in a hand. "Miss Briefs, I'm a little busy-"
"You're too busy to talk with your supervisor?" Bulma barked.
Vegeta bit the inside of his cheek. He looked up and put on the most neutral face he could manage. "Can I help you?"
"You can help me by attending the drinking party tonight," Bulma huffed, and that made the office break into gossip. "It's a team celebration, and I'll be damned if the man behind the success doesn't show up!"
Vegeta scrolled through the carefully curated excuses he had in his head. "I can't go, I have a dental appointment tonight,"
"You can always reschedule,"
"My family is coming over, so-"
"I would know if they were,"
"I'm-"
Bulma let out a harsh sigh. "Vegeta! You know I'm the last person that'll fall for any of your excuses. How long do you think I've known you?!"
Vegeta cursed under his breath. What kind of shit luck did he have to end up working in a company with his childhood friend? Who was his boss?
"And for the last time, just call me Bulma! 'Miss Briefs' creeps me out!" She shuddered. "There's no real reason you shouldn't be coming for the party outside of your grumpy personality holding you back. Don't you think you'd be happier if you made some friends here instead of pushing everyone away?"
Vegeta couldn't stifle the snarl that came out of his throat. "Miss Briefs, I am very happy being by myself. I will not be coming to the party. So if you'll excuse me..."
Bulma marched in front of him. Vegeta expected to see a look of frustration, but she had a softer expression.
Somehow, it cut Vegeta twice as deep.
"Vee, I'm worried about you,"
No you aren't.
"Lately, you've been getting more and more irritable, and you look more and more tired by the day,"
Whose fault do you think that is?
"People have been telling me things..."
She's gossiping about me behind my back.
"...and I thought it'd be a nice change if you relaxed! It's on me by the way. The food, the drinks..." Bulma smiled. "What do you say?"
Vegeta blinked. The last part intrigued him. Bulma was paying for everything? That changed things.
And Vegeta was feeling a little more peckish than normal...
He smirked. "You should've said that sooner," he crossed his arms. "Sure. I'll go,"
Bulma beamed. "Really? That's great!" She opened her arms for a hug but Vegeta crossed his arms tighter over his chest.
Her grin fell to a small smile. "Okay, you better turn up Vegeta, or else!"
Vegeta rolled his eyes. "I know,"
Let's see how much your credit card can handle my 'grumpy personality'.
~
A lot.
The answer was a lot.
Five beers and three meals in and Vegeta was already kicking the bucket. Turns out the CEO was obscenely rich.
To add insult to injury, he'd forgotten how Bulma got when she's drunk. She would get loud and competive, eventually goading Vegeta into drinking more alcohol than he had planned.
Miraculously, Vegeta managed to pull himself out of the party early. Though it was partly thanks to the fact that a majority of his coworkers wanted him gone, and the one person who actually wanted him there was dead drunk.
The cold, outside air stung his skin. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to sober him up. Despite stumbling every two steps and clearly incapable of getting home himself, no one offered him a ride home. Predictable. Vegeta wouldn't want to hang out with himself any longer than he had to either.
Vegeta’s vision was blurry and his brain sloshed about with every step he took. It didn't help that it was dead at night, with dim, flickering lampposts being the only light source he had. He hadn't seen someone -as much as his constantly shifting eyesight allowed- pass by him in a while, which meant he was all alone as well.
Fuck, maybe he should've stayed at the restaurant. At least if his coworkers left him he'd be stuck at a place he knew. Right now he was walking aimlessly, going purely by gut instinct to where his apartment was.
Wait.
Vegeta slowly lifted his head, which had been looking at the concrete pavement the entire time.
Where is-
Vegeta barely had any time to react before he was met with a face full of metal. He had walked straight into a lamppost. He wasn't walking particularly fast, but the momentary cold impact was enough to knock him over.
Vegeta couldn't even tell where he had landed. Searing pain shocked his entire body, and whatever that caught him felt sharp and bumpy and clearly not made to be landed on.
And also, it stank. A lot.
Vegeta would rather not think about it. He wanted to get up, but his sense of balance was fucked up and he'd rather not risk dropping onto the pile of rubbish again.
A glaring lamplight filled his vision. It swirled about, looking almost like a UFO.
Vegeta chuckled. Wouldn't it be great if it was? Take him off this shithole of a planet. No one would miss him anyway.
Then, a small blurry dot circled the light. Probably a moth. It ruined the illusion.
Vegeta groaned, feeling his consciousness start to slip from his fingers. Great, at least he was sleeping where he belonged. Better this than to spend another second with the insufferable people at his office.
Eventually, Vegeta's eyelids grew too heavy and he passed out.
~
Something...
Something smelled...
...good?
Vegeta was lured awake by a savoury sweet scent.
Instead of an illuminated night sky, a white ceiling greeted him. He didn't feel anything pricking into his back. In fact...it felt soft. Too soft.
Alarmed, Vegeta sat up, and a thick blanket rolled off of him. Immediately, the consequences of consuming three litres of alcohol in one night smacked his head. Vegeta clutched his skull, groaning in pain.
That was it. That was the last time he's going to any of Bulma's godforsaken drinking parties.
Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the room he was in. It was smaller than his apartment. There was an earthy brown wardrobe, a desk with books stacked on it, alongside a shelf that had even more books. Blinding sunlight strewn in from the window, indicating that it was...
Oh.
FUCK.
Vegeta’s blood ran cold. Immediately, he scoured around for his phone. It didn't matter that he was in some unknown room.
HE WAS LATE FOR WORK.
He flipped over every pillows and blanket, but it was all fruitless. Exasperated, Vegeta scrambled off the bed and ran for the door. This was a house, right? So there must be a phone he can use! Anything that'll help him from this predicament!
The moment he turned the doorknob, someone else on the other side did so too, causing the door to swing open unexpectedly fast.
Vegeta barely dodged the slab of wood that flew straight for his face. Rage bubbled in him as his eyes darted up to his supposed kidnapper.
"Wh-?!"
"Woah! Careful! You almost made me drop your breakfast!"
Vegeta was momentarily stunned. Whoever this stranger was, he was tall. But to be fair, Vegeta wasn't that tall to begin with.
Still, he had to tilt his head back to meet eyes with the stranger. He was a man with messy black hair, and interestingly enough, he was wearing an apron with a white dress shirt underneath. The sleeves were rolled up and a black bow tie held the collar. Black slacks covered his long legs.
Vegeta's kidnapper was wearing what looked like formal wear under an apron. In his own house.
Just then, the same smell that lulled him out of his slumber hit his nose again, but this time it was stronger. Vegeta dropped his eyes to the stranger's hands and noticed the lavish tray of food he was holding.
It was a plate of golden brown grilled cheese sandwiches, a glass of apple juice and another glass of water with white pills which Vegeta identified as aspirin was next to it. There was also a plate of sunny side up eggs and sausages that looked like they were grilled to perfe-
Vegeta's stomach growled.
Loudly.
Immediately, Vegeta's face flushed. His stomach had never growled that hard before, but here he was, his body declaring to a complete stranger that he was hungry.
He expected laughter, or some sort of expression that would add to Vegeta's humiliation, but instead, the stranger smiled warmly.
"Thank goodness you're hungry. I'm glad that all this wouldn't go to waste," he gestured to the tray.
"Who are you?" Vegeta quickly demanded. It didn't have the same threatening impact after his stomach exposed him, but it was still a valid question. "And where am I?"
The person looked surprised, like he had just realised that dragging a drunk, unconscious man into his room was not normal. "Oh! Right. I'm Goku. You kinda passed out in front of my café so I brought you in,"
Oh my gods, Vegeta was going to die from embarrassment. He pressed a hand on his face. "I'm...fuck. I need to go,"
He tried to push past him, but Goku stopped him by blocking the door.
"Woah woah woah! Where to? Why are you in such a hurry?"
Vegeta clicked his tongue. "What time is it?"
Goku lifted his wrist and looked at his silver watch. "Eleven eighteen?"
Vegeta's heart dropped. Yup, he's beyond late.
"I have somewhere I need to be, so if you'll excuse me-"
Goku looked even more perplexed. "And you're going there wearing my clothes?"
Vegeta widened his eyes. He looked down at himself, finally noticing the oversized blue shirt that draped on him and the neon orange sweatpants that were long enough to cover his feet.
Another dreadful realisation hit him and he glared at Goku in shock. "Y-you took off my clothes?!"
Goku's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Huh?! No! I mean...yes?" he shook his head. "I wasn't going to let you sleep covered in rubbish and vomit!"
Vegeta slapped a hand over his mouth, feeling absolutely mortified. 'Oh my gods I vomited on myselfWHATTHEFUCK-'
"More importantly!" Goku snapped him out of his racing thoughts. "Whatever you're rushing about, it shouldn't be more important than eating breakfast. Besides, your clothes are still drying,"
Vegeta's shoulders slumped, defeated.
"...can you lend me your phone?"
~
Bulma's laughter made Vegeta's ears ring.
"I can't believe anyone would drag a random stranger into their room! You're lucky you didn't end up getting saved by some weirdo," Bulma wheezed.
Vegeta snuck a peek at Goku. He was seated on a chair, nervously picking at his apron.
"I'm not sure about that yet,"
Bulma broke into more uncontrollable laughter. Vegeta frowned. "So do you understand my situation or not?!"
"Yeah, yeah, I do," Bulma took a deep breath. "Forget it, take the entire day off. I might as well replace your desktop today too,"
Vegeta sighed. A day off should make him feel more at ease, but anxiety from not being productive also ate away at him.
"Anyways...who's this Knight in shining armour? Is he a man?" Bulma's voice had a tilt of mischieve in it.
Vegeta growled. "Yes? Why do you-"
"Ooooo, is he hot?"
Vegeta buried his face in a hand. "I'm hanging up,"
"This is a sign, Vegeta! I only hear about these kinds of scenarios in cheesy romance flicks! He might just be your soul-"
Vegeta pulled the phone away and hung up. He sighed, then passed the phone back to its owner.
Goku pocketed it and looked at Vegeta in concern. "So...what did your boss say?"
Vegeta leaned back on the bed and exhaled. "I have the day off,"
Goku smiled widely, and Vegeta swore he glowed. "That's great! They must be really nice,"
Vegeta shook his head. "She's horrible,"
Goku laughed nervously. His gaze fell onto the ignored tray of food. "Oh yeah, now that you're free..." he picked it up and brought it over to Vegeta. "Feel free to dig in! You must be pretty hungry,"
Vegeta's lips curled. He was hungry...and the tray of food in front of him did look pretty good...
With a defeated sigh, he took the tray and placed it on his lap. It felt warm. Hesitantly, he picked up the metal utensils and picked at the sandwich. When he tried to cut out a piece, the crisp sound of perfectly toasted bread could be heard, and melted cheese slowly flowed out.
Ignoring the stares of anticipation coming from Goku, he brought the piece to his mouth and...
Oh.
It was...
Goku fidgeted with his fingers. "This was the only thing I could whip up with what I had, I hope you don't...mind?"
Vegeta felt something warm trace his cheeks.
Huh?
What was happening?
He brought a hand to his face and realised that he was crying. He was crying over a fucking grilled cheese sandwich. In front of someone he just met.
But the tears don't stop. He covered his mouth, letting the delicious homemade food melt in his mouth.
Goku fretted. "Um, are you okay? Are you hurt?! Do you need me to get you anything?"
Vegeta shook his head. "It's nothing, just some shit in my eyes,"
Vegeta couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something homemade. It felt like a drop of warmth entered his gut. It was more than the fact that it was exceptionally tasty; it reminded him of the days when he lived with his parents, the days when he would wake up and not have to worry about having food on the table.
Vegeta scarfed the rest of the meal down like he'd been starving for years. When he set the utensils down, then wiped the wetness on his cheeks with the back of his palm, realisation dawned on him.
Was post-crying clarity a thing? His current circumstance hit him like a truck, and he felt his face warm in embarrassment.
Vegeta was never the type to cry. In fact, the first -and what he assumed was the last- time he cried was when he was 12, and it was after he had been hit by a school bus.
Thankfully, Goku hadn't commented on it further. Vegeta knew his excuse was absolute garbage, but at least the man in front of him could read the room.
Just then, Goku stood up and checked his watch. "I think your clothes should be dry now. I'll hop by the cleaners and go fetch them for you! Feel free to hang out around here. If you need the toilet, it's just outside to the right,"
Vegeta hummed in acknowledgement. Goku then exited the room, leaving Vegeta alone in silence with his thoughts.
Vegeta contemplated what had compelled his tear ducts to water. It's not like he hasn't tried five star restaurant food before, or that processed food were particularly gross to him. But to be moved to tears by a plate of grilled cheese? Ridiculous! Downright pathetic!
There was just something to Goku's food that forced tears out of him. He wanted to search the internet for any drug that could be responsible, but his phone was currently in Goku's possession. Other than that, there wasn't any plausible reason as to why he would suddenly break into tears like that.
Vegeta nodded to himself, yup. No way. He wiped his mouth with a tissue and placed down the plate he had practically licked clean.
Wanting to distract himself, and also feeling a little restless, he started to observe the room he was in.
It was a small bedroom, which felt a little claustrophobic with the single bed, closet, desk, and shelves packed inside. It was also messy, with some clothes strewn on the floor, books stacked messily on top of each other and what looked like crumbs peppering the floor.
The books on the desk caught Vegeta's attention. He stood up from the bed and walked over, mentally reading their titles.
"...they're all textbooks," Vegeta noted. Their pages looked worn out, in a 'hand-me-down' way instead of from repeated reading, if the yellowing edges from age were anything to go by. Then again, it could be both.
The subjects of the textbooks were also of advanced and specialized subjects. They reminded Vegeta of the books he himself would read when he was in university.
It's not concrete, but Vegeta could at least assume Goku could be a university student. He looked rather young, so Vegeta could see that.
He randomly grabbed one and started flipping through the pages. Some were bookmarked with thin, coloured translucent post-its, and a few lines were highlighted in yellow. Vegeta was a little impressed by how studious he seemed until he flipped to a relatively blank page.
There were little doodles on it, specifically of a dragon fighting a knight, sharks, giant robots...Vegeta lifted a brow. Some people just never grew out of their childhood.
He closed it and inspected the content page. To his surprise, there was a different name written on the front.
"Kakarot..." Vegeta traced a thumb over the writing. Did Goku give him a fake name? He certainly didn't look the type. He'd question him about this later.
Vegeta paused. Wait. Why did that even matter? It's not like they were going to meet again. This was just some chance encounter, nothing more. Vegeta shook his head and placed the book where he had found it.
Vegeta had enough respect not to open his wardrobe. He simply walked around the confined space, observing what kind of person Goku was. Nothing seemed that out of the ordinary, he was just a messy, University student who liked to wear formal clothes at home.
As if on cue, the door clicked open again, and Vegeta quickly whipped around, afraid that he'd been caught snooping.
"Oh! Didn't mean to scare you," Goku lifted a very familiar briefcase in one hand, and a suit on the other. "I got your stuff!"
Goku either didn't catch Vegeta, or he was being willfully ignorant. Whatever the case, Vegeta's shoulders dropped in relief. He reached for his stuff and muttered a soft thanks.
Goku smiled. "You can just leave my clothes on my bed. Once you're done, you can meet me downstairs in the staff lounge,"
At first, Vegeta was going to nod in agreement, but something didn't sound right. "Staff lounge?"
Goku blinked. "Oh uh... it's like a place with couches and lockers to put your stuff in, and there's also a table in the-"
Vegeta raised a hand to stop him. "No, I know what a staff lounge is. Why do you have a staff lounge in your house?"
Goku was left stunned for a moment, before he made a noise of realisation. "Oooh that's right, you were black out drunk when I dragged you up here,"
Vegeta winced at the blunt description.
"This building is two storeys tall, with my house at the top floor and my café right downstairs!" Goku looked down at his attire. "Ah, this whole outfit I'm wearing must've confused you as well, huh? I promise I don't dress this well 24/7,"
Vegeta's eyes widened. "You live..." He pointed downwards. "On top of a café?"
Goku nodded.
"Which you own,"
"Yup,"
Vegeta covered his mouth in surprise. Sure, this wasn't a new concept, but still it was shocking to meet people with this lifestyle. Truth be told, he imagined them being more...hipster-esque. Not so...
Goku's brawny, muscled arms were exposed up to his elbows, his shirt creasing and folding over the undeniable muscle underneath. He was also tall, had sun-kissed skin and messy jet black hair that somehow looked presentable.
...buff.
Goku looked more like a fitness instructor or a security guard.
"Sooo...I'll be going now? My coworker is going to scream at me if I stall any longer," Goku rubbed the back of his neck.
"Right," Vegeta picked up his clothes and belongings from Goku's hands. "I'll just change and make my way out asap,"
Vegeta might've been hallucinating, but he could catch a glimpse of disappointment flash across Goku's eyes. Even then, the other man grinned and gave him a thumbs up. "Sounds good, no rush! Really,"
With that, Goku retreated out the door and closed it shut. Vegeta didn't waste any time, changing immediately, but forgoing his blazer. From his bag, he first checked if everything was still intact and in place -phone, wallet, cash, cards...- then he took out his phones to check his notifications.
There were a few misses calls from Bulma, but nothing else urgent to reply to.
With everything in check, Vegeta made his way out, now tasked with thinking of a way to spend the rest of his impromptu break.
~
The way downstairs was surprisingly easy to find. It literally called out to him.
The closer he got to the exit, the louder the voices he heard. It sounded like customers, and the ringing bell of a door opening sealed the fact that Goku did live above a café.
Slowly, he descended the stairs, and they lead to a small lounge room. There were lockers on either side of the wall and a long couch in the centre with a long table. At the back, there were male and female staff toilets, and on the other end was a door for the exit.
Vegeta took his time walking across the marble-floored room, observing what he assumed was the staff lounge room Goku talked about before he made his way out.
As the door opened, it revealed Goku's café.
The place was quaint but lively. The interior was an earthy brown, with a warm orange glow lighting up the place. There were plenty of tables and chairs, with people of all age groups occupying them. The only windows were the ones on either side of the entrance, showing a row of flowers decorating the outside of the shop before the dull city landscape Vegeta was more used to.
The café felt...nice. Homey. It wasn't some high end, haughty hangout hub for rich teens like what Vegeta had expected it to be. It felt more like a humble community wood shack.
He looked around, and it looked like Goku was the only staff working. He was brisk walking between tables, somehow chatting to several customers at once, while holding a chalkboard. He would place it in front of a pair of customers and discuss the items written on it with a wide smile on his face.
It was strange, Goku seemed to fit right in, yet stand out. He was taller, larger, and Vegeta could practically see the charisma he was exuding. But it looked like there wasn't a better place Goku could work at. In addition, despite being the supposed manager of the shop, he was working as a meer waiter.
Honestly, after the food that Goku had cooked him earlier, Vegeta thought he would be a cook.
Vegeta wondered if he should give Goku a heads up before leaving, but he seemed busy, and there really wasn't a need to. He raked a hand through his hair, awkwardly standing at the staff door entrance.
He should...just...go...
"Are you lost?"
Vegeta jumped at the shrill voice. He quickly snapped his head towards the voice and met eyes with yet another taller individual.
This time, it was a rather tall woman with long black hair tied into a bun. Two bangs of hair framed either side of her sharp face. She was wearing an all-white attire, which looked a lot like a cook's outfit.
So Goku wasn't the only one working here.
She glared down at Vegeta in suspicion, hands on her hips.
"No, I was..." He spared a glance at Goku, but he seemed to busy to clarify the situation. With a defeated sigh, Vegeta looked back at the fierce lady. "I was just leaving,"
She narrowed her eyes at him, and Vegeta shrank under her intense gaze. Suddenly, she perked up, her mouth falling open in shock.
"Oh! You're the person Goku was taking care of!" She huffed, placing a hand on her forehead. "No wonder you came out of the staff room. I almost called the cops!"
Vegeta thought that he would be able to leave now that the misunderstanding was cleared, but instead, she cupped her mouth and turned in Goku's general direction. "GOKU! COME 'ERE FOR A SEC!"
Silence fell in the establishment and everyone in the café turned to look at the two of them. Vegeta facepalmed, absolutely mortified at this insane woman's actions.
As if this was a normal human thing to do, the woman turned back to Vegeta. "You know, Goku paused all his duties just to cook you breakfast. The least you could do is say goodbye, and give your thanks if you hadn't already,"
Vegeta nodded mutely, too stunlocked to do anything else.
Goku perked up, noticing Vegeta and beamed. He said a few parting words to his patrons before setting the chalkboard down and skipping over.
"You're all dressed!" Goku eyed Vegeta up and down, which made Vegeta feel a little nervous. "And lookin' good,"
Vegeta coughed, trying not to trip over such an offhanded comment. "Yes. I was just about to leave so..." He looked at the woman, who lifted a brow at him. Vegeta sighed. "And I wanted to thank you. For the food. And for picking me off the street," he averted his eyes and pursed his lips. "Okay bye,"
He turned to rush out of the café, but Goku stopped him. "W-wait a sec!" He called, stopping Vegeta in his tracks. When Vegeta turned to face him, Goku was rubbing his neck again.
"Um, I was wondering...if you liked the breakfast, you should come over again sometime? We have new specials every week and it's chill here so..."
Why was Goku being so forward? Was this all just some marketing ploy, or was he actually inviting Vegeta's company? Vegeta didn't know what to believe.
However, it didn't seem as if he could reject Goku either. He peeked to his right, where the fierce woman next to him glared at him like he was one wrong answer away from getting smacked over the head.
"If I have the time," Vegeta answered vaguely. Thankfully, Goku looked satisfied with the answer, and the bloodlust emanating from his right started to die down.
Goku grinned. "Nice! I can't wait to see you again!"
Despite the lunch rush, Goku still walked him out of the door and gave him directions to the nearest subway. Vegeta dismissed himself with a curt nod, but even as he turned to leave Goku kept waving goodbye to him, almost like an overexcited dog.
Vegeta frowned, his face slowly turning red. This whole shtick Goku was pulling had to be an act. It was all a plan to get Vegeta to spend every cent he had in his café by acting like he was...like Goku was his friend.
Even so, the food was exceptionally good, and fairly close to the train. Maybe Vegeta could come visit from time to time, just to treat himself to some good food.
He was never going to fall for Goku's fake charms, and he was definitely not eating at that café to explicitly visit him.
Definitely not.
~
In the end, Vegeta just spent the rest of the day doing work from home. It was only after the sun had completely set that he finally peeled his eyes away from his laptop and stretched the kinks out of his joints.
There was only so much he could do without the data in his office. Determining that there was no way to make any more progress without it, Vegeta shut off his laptop and made his way to the kitchen to whip up some dinner.
Usually, he would buy something to eat on the way home from work, but since he was put on leave there was no instant lunch stashed in his kitchen.
Vegeta clicked his tongue. The only other thing stored in his desolate cupboards were two packets of instant porridge.
Beggars couldn't be choosers. He picked up one packet and peeled it open. Pouring it into a bowl would just mean dishes to wash, so he dispensed hot water directly inside the package instead.
He stirred it's contents with a metal spoon, careful to not spill it. Slimy white rice flowed around the utentsil. Vegeta grimaced. He didn't remember instant porridge looking this gross. He was always too tired after work to really care.
After the porridge settled, Vegeta brought the packet to the dinner table. He looked down at his supposed dinner, and felt his appetite slowly dwindle the more he observed how dull it was.
Vegeta had no choice but to eat it anyway. He picked up a spoonful and shoveled it in his mouth.
Bland, soggy, with a weird aftertaste. Vegeta grimaced. He would rather be eating anything else. Like...a grilled cheese sandwich.
He started to reminisce about the mouth-melting cheese on his tongue, the crunchy yet light texture of the bread...
Vegeta dumped the remaining porridge into the bin. He ignored his stomach's protests and groaned, flopping back onto the couch.
He pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. Now he was craving for Goku's cooking. It gave him the motivation to go over to his café for breakfast tomorrow, just for another taste.
Unable to fight his urges, Vegeta brought his phone out and searched up Goku's café.
The first result gave him exactly the answer he was looking for.
Café Four Star, more than a place for coffee. This was the first he's heard of this place, and in addition, it had opened only a year ago. Still, this novel establishment had a fair number of good reviews, with a few bad ones regarding the slow service and hot headed chef.
A majority of them spoke highly of Goku and the food, commenting about how the wait and the price were worth it.
While scrolling through reviews, Vegeta caught a picture of a customer posing with Goku, in which the latter had a big goofy smile on his face.
Vegeta snorted. He looked like such a dork.
Just as quickly as the thought crossed his mind, Vegeta quickly snuffed it. He shook his head and reeled his thoughts in. What was he doing? Staring at pictures of Goku like a weirdo. Goku's charms were fake! It's all fake! How can anybody be that cheerful all the time?
Vegeta's stomach growled loudly. He clutched over it and frowned. Either way, he had decided to at least try eating breakfast there. Only because he wouldn't be able to eat anything otherwise.
With this plan in mind, Vegeta began making some changes to his daily routine...