#brief mention of csa but its like. one sentence

[femmepeterparker]

There are mornings when Vegeta lies awake, waiting for the first rays of sunlight to filter through the window. He stares at the ceiling, unable to move as his vision blurs at the edges and uncomfortably familiar shadows dance in the corners. He can't squeeze his eyes shut as ghost hands trail up his legs and clasp around his neck, pressure on his chest building as if someone is planting their heel against his sternum. His alarm clock hums audibly and it makes his fingers itch the longer it drills into his brain.

The clock begins to blare, loud and annoying, and it's enough to make him blink, but not enough for the weight on his body to dissipate. He can't lift his arm to silence the shrill alarm.

It's loud.

Annoying.

Agrivating.

Overstimulating.

The beeping becomes white noise buzzing in his skull as he tries to focus on filling his lungs with a steady stream of air. He feels a phantom pressure on his tail and he lets out a quiet whine.

He hates days like this. Days when memories of his time in the PTO resurface and he's forced to face them head on. He feels like he's ten years old again, seeing Freeza tower over him, telling him- lying to him- about his planet being destroyed. He feels like he's twelve, when Freeza deemed him old enough to start solo missions and begin killing innocent people. He feels like he's thirteen, and Freeza calls him into his throne room after a mission went well to reward him and-

Ugh, he's going to throw up.

Vegeta fights the urge to hurl as the feeling of fingers that aren't really there dig into the skin of his thighs and chest and start to burn.

It's unpleasant. It always is.

He forces himself to close his eyes and slow his breathing like he taught himself over three decades ago. To shut down because it makes things a hell of a lot easier to endure.

He isn't sure how long he remains in a dissociative state, but by the time he's able to move his limbs and turn his head, it's well past noon. The bright white numbers stare back at him.

Vegeta doesn't understand Earth time, or analog clocks, but he knows that being in bed for as long as he has been is generally a bad thing.

He still can't lift his head from his pillow. At least now, there's no more weight on his chest from a clawed foot or thick, wormy tail around his neck. Instead, he just feels exhaustion creeping up behind his eyelids.

When he wakes up again, Kakarot is sitting on the bed. He traces a single finger up and down Vegeta's bicep, watching his face intently. Vegeta can't make eye contact with him right now, and looks at his chin instead.

Kakarot asks the usual questions, "how are you feeling," and "do you need anything," and, of course, "do you want to talk about it?"

The answer has only been yes once, and as far as Vegeta was concerned, that was one time too many.

But Kakarot just shifts his arms under Vegeta- big, strong arms, not like Freeza who was small and didn't touch unless he wanted to- and sits him upright against the headboard. A cursory glance at the clock shows that he only fell back asleep for an hour and a half. Kakarot then presses his mouth against Vegeta's temple and hums.

Vegeta doesn't understand why. It makes him feel nice, though.

He isn't able to talk again until the evening, when Kakarot brings him food and he's able to thank him. The younger man knows he's receiving thanks for more than the dinner.

He stays while Vegeta eats and doesn't mention how the other man's hands shake so bad the fork rattles against the bowl.

The memories have subsided enough to settle as a dull hum in the back of his mind. It's usually like this, though, and Vegeta is relieved to have control back over his body and brain; to have some sense of normalcy again.

Kakarot stays up with him while he falls asleep again, an arm tucked around Vegeta's waist as the two sit up in front of the television.

He's still there in the morning, when Vegeta wakes up to use the bathroom, his knees popping from sitting down too long. Kakarot snores and pulls the older saiyan closer when he lays back down.

Not everything is awful, Vegeta decides, his back flush with Kakarot's chest, their breathing and heartbeats synced, if it meant he ended up where he is today.

Sometimes, it's enough.