Goku X Vegeta Oneshots

Sick

*Vegeta? Health problems? Pffft, naw, you're crazy.*

Saiyans, in comparison to humans, were gods. Their immune systems were superior in every way.

So why, oh why, did Vegeta wake up feeling weird? He was not sick. He was not sick. He lifted himself out of bed, scowling. The growing fog swirling around in his head thickened, and he set a hand to his forehead. Was he sweating? Fuck, he was.

He slid out the door. His stomach growled. Gods, he was hungry. After he stumbled down the stairs, the fridge and cupboards were raided, but still his stomach snarled and cramped somewhat. The spinning in his head had vanished, thankfully. But why was he still hungry? If he cleared out the fridge, Bulma would kill him.

Oh, well.

Vegeta found himself digging unhappily through the freezer when Bulma came in. She didn't say anything at first. Then she spoke. "Are... Are you ok?"

"I dunno," he muttered, worried when his voice came out as a half slur. "I've basically eaten everything in the house and I'm still-" He covered his eyes when his head began to throb. "... hungry."

Bulma came over and set a hand to his forehead. "Yeah. You definitely feel a little warmer than normal." She turned him towards the stairs. "Back to bed. If you are contagious, we don't want Trunks catching it."

He rolled his eyes, but started to head back to his room. The stairs seemed... daunting. Why? He felt a slight tilting sensation and pressed a supporting hand to the wall. Nope. Nope, he was not going to fall. This was not good. His eyes flicked over the steep obstacle between him and the safety and comfort of his bed, hating how weak his legs suddenly felt. Maybe he could fly...?

"Vegeta?"

How long had he been standing there? His grip on the rail had tightened to the point of cracking the wood. He didn't turn his head for fear of destroying his already feeble balance.

"Vegeta, are you ok?"

Little lights, not unlike tiny stars, flickered in front of him, and, surprised, he tried to focus on them as they vanished and reappeared quickly. It took him a moment to realize he was seconds away from passing out. He lowered himself to his knees and exhaled, trying to breathe slowly and deeply.

Bulma appeared behind him. "What's wrong? Are you ok?" She knelt down and took his sweaty hand, the other resting on his cheek. "You're hotter than you were before."

"Thank you," he joked.

"Shut up," she laughed, smacking his arm. "Are you ok? I'm serious."

"I think I'm ok. I was just lightheaded." He shifted so he was sitting more comfortably. "But the question is why am I lightheaded?"

"Well, you just cleared out the fridge, so I don't think low blood sugar is the issue." Bulma stroked his cheek gently. "Were you just hungry before, or were you feeling bad then too?"

"Sort of?" He rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I woke up feeling weird. Just, mentally fuzzy, I guess?" He thought about getting up, but a wave of dizziness and a threatening feeling of nausea changed his mind. "Aw, fuck. Ahhh, Bulma." He wrapped an arm around his stomach.

She understood instantly. In a heartbeat she'd brought in a trashcan, holding onto his shoulder supportively. "Easy... If you're gonna be sick, just get it out."

Seven minutes and several false alarms later, he finally started gagging hard enough to really force the half digested food out of his churning stomach. Bulma soothed and encouraged him. When he finally stopped heaving, he held his body up with a shaky arm. "Dunno where that came from."