Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Cop Story ❯ Misery Dates ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer : They are not mine, now, back to the show.....

A Cop Story

Part Eight

By RM

Misery Dates

The ride back to the apartment was quiet and uneventful. Vegeta sat in the back seat brooding while Goku sat next to him smiling out of the window. Chi Chi had bribed #18 to drive them home in a patrol car, so that they could bleed all over the seats of someone else's car. She had also sent Bulma to the grocery store with a list of ingredients to pick up for dinner while she took the boys home and made them wash up.

The apartment wasn't too messy, despite its owner. Raditz had a hand in the furnishings when Goku had first moved in. The place wasn't huge but it was big enough for one person, even when that one person was Goku. There was a living room that was big enough for the four of them to relax after dinner, a large sectional couch and a recliner with a good-sized television. There were two bedrooms, although one was currently being used as a weight room, and most importantly there was the kitchen. He didn't have a whole lot of food, but he did have the cooking utensils to make the meal. Chi Chi got right down to cleaning up the kitchen and living room for Goku. Upon entering she had told Goku to go and wash up. Vegeta, much to his pleasure, was ordered to go to his own apartment to clean up, change, and report back to Goku's in no less than one hour. It was only 4 o'clock in the afternoon, so everyone had plenty of time before dinner.

*****

Bulma rummaged through the lettuce looking for a few fresh specimens. Chi Chi had quite a few items on the list, practically enough to feed a small army. She had basically gotten everything on the list, with the exception of a few things she herself had added.

"Hey doll," a man's voice said behind her.

Bulma ground her teeth. She hated being called a doll. And she didn't appreciate being hit on in the produce section either.

She whirled around and came face to face with a nice looking, well built, tall man with bluish skin and long green hair. She recognized him immediately as Zarbon, one of the members of Captain Ginyu's volleyball squad. Goku had told her that he wasn't a member of the Ginyu Force. He was one of the mayor's special bodyguards.

She smiled sweetly, trying to look flighty.

"I don't know if you remember me Miss Briefs. I played against you in the police volleyball tournament a few weeks ago." He flashed her a smile.

She continued to smile as she nodded, pushing her cart towards the check out line.

"You played an awfully good game," he continued. "Anyway, I saw you here and I couldn't help but wonder…do you have plans for this evening?" He added with a charming smile.

He certainly was handsome, she had to admit that much. But as she stood there smiling at him, and thinking about her plans for the night, and about how her day had gone already, she could only think of one response.

*****

Stakeouts. He hated stakeouts. Just blend in, they would tell him. Try to look nonchalant, they would tell him. Act normal, they would tell him. How could he? His suit was itchy, and he felt like a pea in a world of water chestnuts. He felt most natural in a turban, baggy jumpsuit and a pair of pointy shoes. And he was supposed to be discreet? Act natural? That was a laugh.

He sighed as he changed the radio station to a light jazz. He didn't really care for music, but right now he needed something mind numbing, and he was sick to death of listening to #17's collection of Barry White tapes. He didn't understand the man's obsession with Barry White. And then, almost as if on cue, the door opened.

"Any movement yet?" #17 asked as he threw his jacket over the seat and sat down.

"Nothing. It's been boring and quiet." Piccolo replied.

"Do you think they know we're watching them?" #17 asked, taking a bite out of a sandwich.

"No." Piccolo sighed. "But tonight is the last night. Our order runs out."

"Maybe the guy has gone straight?" #17 said.

"Who knows?" Piccolo commented.

#17 handed Piccolo a cup of water that he had picked up when he got his sandwich. The sounds of a mellow saxophone drifted around the car, mixed with the crunching of vegetables on #17's sandwich.

"Heard you guys got your asses kicked today." Piccolo grinned, keeping his eyes on one of the houses down the street from the car.

#17 `tsked' and continued chewing and crunching on his sandwich.

"Heard Yamcha was hurt the worst." Piccolo continued.

Silence reigned supreme between the two as the saxophone continued its melody.

"Can I ask you something?" #17 asked finally.

Piccolo grunted an approval.

"Did you sense anything? I mean, this afternoon? When the warehouse exploded?"

Without taking his gaze off of the house he was watching, Piccolo gave a terse reply.

"No."

Silence again.

"That's something that Goku made mention of. He couldn't sense any kind of ki. And after that blast hit and we were all powered up to shield ourselves, no one could sense each other. What do you make of that?" #17 asked.

"I think you were all slammed into the ground one too many times." Was the answer.

More silence.

"What IS that smell?" Piccolo questioned.

"Oh, I picked up a slice of pizza from Garlic City, along with my sub. I don't even like pizza all that much, but I just can't seem to get enough of this stuff." #17 admitted.

Piccolo grunted his reply. His whole diet consisted of water. He just didn't get it. And everyone seemed to be eating a lot of that pizza recently. He sighed and leaned back as the rain pelted against the windshield, keeping a watch on the house while #17 sat next to him chewing.

*****

"It's raining again." Bulma sighed as she finished peeling the carrots. Her heels clicked on the kitchen floor as she walked over to the garbage can and peeked around the corner into the living room. Goku sat on one end of the couch, his head propped up with his hand. Vegeta sat at the other end of the `L', arms folded across his chest, glaring at the wall. Both were dressed in sweat pants and clean, white T-shirts. She wished she had thought of stopping at home to dress down. She hated wearing business suits and skirts, but she needed to look professional at the office.

Chi Chi was finishing up the sauce. She lived to cook, and she was excellent at it, which worked out in the long run. She was the owner of a very successful restaurant in the downtown theatre district. Her specialty tonight however, was mass quantities.

"Ugh," Bulma groaned as she placed her contribution to the meal in the refrigerator. "Did I tell you who I ran into at the market?"

Chi Chi raised one eyebrow as she stirred the mushroom sauce for the filets.

"Who?" She questioned.

"Zarbon." Bulma chuckled. At the mention of the exotically handsome man, Chi Chi also chuckled. In the living room, Vegeta, who was very aware of the conversation in the kitchen, stiffened.

"He came onto me in the produce section." Bulma smiled.

"And!?" Chi Chi practically shouted.

"And…" Bulma poised for thought. "He asked me out." She shrugged.

"And!?!?"

"I told him I was busy tonight. I told him I already had a date for dinner." She stated firmly as she nodded her head. "…with Vegeta."

*****

It was a very popular restaurant for people of all ages and persuasion. It was a finer dining establishment without being too outrageously formal. Normally dinner reservations were booked weeks in advance. Tonight, however, was the result of a bribe.

It wasn't terribly spacious, but it was clean, well decorated, and allowed for about two dozen strangers to share an intimate dining experience. It also helped that the food was absolutely delicious.

They managed to turn a few heads on their way to their table. A beautiful blonde woman in a black silk dress with her hair up in an elegant French twist, and a bald midget in a suit and tie who seemed a bit fidgety. As they were seated, conversation resumed and business began as usual.

"Wow. Pretty snazzy place here." Krillin remarked as he looked around the room. "How'd we manage this?"

"You know Chi Chi?" #18 asked as she opened her menu.

"Ye…ah," Krillin hesitated. He knew who Chi Chi was, but he didn't actually know her.

"She owns the place. And she owed me a favor." #18 replied as she turned the page.

"A favor?" Krillin asked. "She owns this place?"

#18 looked up and across the table at Krillin. She reached out her hand and took a hold of his as she stroked his skin with her thumb ever so slightly. In the dim candlelight her blue eyes sparkled. Krillin blushed and gulped.

"What favor?" He asked as he eyed the other patrons.

"The favor that got us here and will also pay for our meals." #18 smiled at Krillin, still holding his hand. "So make it count."

*****

He didn't mean to fall off of the couch, or to smack his elbow on the side table. And he didn't understand what was so funny about a funny bone.

Of course, both women ran out of the kitchen and into the living room to see what had happened. Goku started laughing. Bulma looked at Vegeta and commented about his color as he got back onto the couch. He glared at her as she glared back.

Chi Chi walked over to check on Goku. She nearly dropped her wooden spoon when he grabbed her and plopped her down, half on his lap, half on the couch.

"Goku!" She half shouted, half giggled, "You should be taking it easy."

He looked at her thoughtfully.

"You don't weigh that much." He stated honestly. "Wow! You smell great! What is that? Beef?" He brought his face down to sniff her shoulder.

Vegeta, disgusted by the whole display, got up and walked into the kitchen for a glass of something. As he strode in, he was shocked by the presence of the metric ton of food that had been prepared for dinner. But the shock didn't end there. The woman was there too. She had her back to him as she was bent over rifling through the fridge, her firm little rump barely covered at this point by the short skirt she was wearing. He recovered quickly and smirked as he took to his usual stance behind her. Looking around the kitchen, he realized that all he needed now to complete the Saiyan fantasy, was a handful of powerful training drones.

Bulma was putting some groceries away and trying to find room for the instant banana pudding she had made for dessert when she felt hot breath on her neck followed by a very masculine hand grabbing a beer bottle located next to her head. As she began to turn, their noses almost touched, and he saw the blush creep into her cheeks, which only served to broaden his smirk. He pulled away and stood up, and she followed suit while closing the fridge. He kept his eyes on her as she stood there with a big jug of milk, and he noticed that her blouse was revealing a bit more than it usually did. She put the jug on the counter as she kept her own eye on him, and when she noticed his gaze, she gave him a little smirk, squared her shoulders and cupped his chin in her hand. She lightly turned and titled his head down, running her other hand through his thick, dark hair.

"That gash looks better." She commented softly.

Odd, she thought, it looks to be half the size it was earlier.

He couldn't believe it. She hadn't started yelling yet and he didn't want to kill her yet either. He was still angry, but it wasn't directed at her for once. He was disgusted with the day's events and his inability to foresee them, as well as deal with them. In a rare moment, he was feeling defeated. And that was why, as Bulma stood in front of him, running her fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes, sighed, and just allowed it to happen.

*****

"Don't drop your shoulder Krillin!" #18 snarled angrily.

"Uh, sorry honey."

#18 crouched down and suddenly pounced, flying past Krillin as he shifted slightly to avoid her fist, only to catch her foot in his side. He twisted, trying to regain his balance, but ended up spinning around once more than he intended, and caught her other foot in his stomach.

"You're moving too slow." She stated calmly.

"No, you're moving too fast." He managed out as he clutched his stomach. "We just ate a little while ago. Maybe we should take it easy."

"I am not waiting to get mushy like those guys did today." #18 stated.

"Well, training is good but…couldn't we have just gone to the movies?" Krillin asked hopefully.

"Don't change the original subject." #18 told him.

"Original subject?"

"You have to follow through," she maintained her fighting stance. "Don't be afraid to hit me because I'm a girl."

"You're also my date," Krillin pointed out. "It's not right to hit my date." He chuckled.

"What about if she hits you first?" #18 flashed him a sly smile.

"Well then. I might have to lay her out." Krillin smirked back.

"Try me on, sweet cheeks."

*****

"Ugh," he moaned as he lay there after a dinner of boxed potatoes. It was raining outside and he had the deep down miseries that often accompanied being beaten up and left laying on a concrete floor while a blast the size of Yajarobi's ass came bounding towards you. Looking down the couch, he caught a glimpse of two white feet sticking out from under the blanket. He couldn't feel them.

"I can't feel my feet!" He whined as best he could. "I can't feel my feet!" He repeated.

"What's wrong?" Puar asked from the kitchen.

"My feet!" Yamcha complained, a little note of panic in his voice.

"Your feet?" Puar questioned. "Yamcha, those aren't your feet."

"Not my…" he trailed off.

"They're the plaster copies of feet I was using for my art project." Puar squeaked. "I had them here on the end of the couch."

Puar flew back into the kitchen and continued clean up while Yamcha lay on the couch, miserable with two huge black eyes, a broken nose, and two broken thumbs. Strangely enough, it was the thumbs that the guys at work gave him the hardest time about. He sighed as he tried to grab the television controller with two of his fingers, and then became frustrated again as he found his thumbs useless.

Life just wasn't fair.

*****

The meal was delicious. And it was all gone. Chi Chi and Bulma had never seen anyone devour food quite like Goku and Vegeta. And surprisingly, everyone was full. Chi Chi tried to shoo the men out of the kitchen, but Goku insisted that he and Vegeta would clean up. After all, fair was fair. Very reluctantly, Vegeta agreed to help, seriously wondering, and not for the first time, whether or not he was suffering from some kind of brain damage.

In the living room, Chi Chi literally fell into the couch, which was deep and cushy and somehow reflected Goku's personality. Little did she know that he had picked this particular model for it's `fall factor'. She let out a delicate sigh as she grabbed the television controller and listened to the dishes clinking and the boys burping coming from the kitchen as they cleaned up.

Bulma was thankful to take off her shoes. Her feet were killing her. She curled up in the corner of the couch where the two sections met and began to rub her feet.

Goku and Vegeta finished the dishes in record time, thanks to super speed, and groggily made their way into the living room to crash. Chi Chi gave Bulma a knowing grin as the pair walked in stumbling and sleepy. As they plopped down on the couch, Chi Chi felt a little guilty. She'd had it on good authority that the pair would often work out or spar after work, no matter what. And given the beating they took earlier, she wanted them to rest, or at least Goku, no matter what. #18 had supplied some sedatives they had to use on the pair once before. She'd made mention that because of their systems, they needed something extremely powerful. Chi Chi wondered what she had meant, but had slipped the pills into her world famous dumplings anyway.

Chi Chi smiled as Goku sat next to her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Thanks Chi Chi. Thanks Bulma. That was a great dinner!" Goku exclaimed rather sleepily.

Vegeta grunted an approval. He didn't want to come out and say it, but he enjoyed the meal immensely. He blinked a few times, trying to ward off sleep.

"You're welcome," Chi Chi stated simply as she ran her fingers through Goku's mass of tangles, massaging his temple.

"That feels nice," Goku murmured.

As Goku spoke, Vegeta glared as best he could at Bulma. He was thinking about what had happened in the kitchen earlier and how good it felt. She was sitting with a pained expression, curled up into a little ball, trying to rub her feet and legs. She didn't look too happy. In fact, she looked as tired and as miserable as he felt. He blinked again and sighed as he picked himself up and moved to sit next to her. She looked up, stunned that he would do this. He `hmphed' as he reached out and took one of her legs, laid it straight across his lap and began rubbing it in a gentle rhythm as he laid his head back on the couch cushions, closing his eyes.

Chi Chi smiled broadly now. Was she the only one not sleepy? She looked over at the top of Goku's head, still on her shoulder. He was so thick headed and some of the things that would come out of his mouth! But…he was just so cute. So sweet. So adorable. One look at his sweet, happy face…and she'd melt. If anyone had told her a few weeks ago that she'd be cuddled up with the man who practically threw the book at her that night he'd pulled her over, she would have decked them, and then told them they were crazy. But as it was, she was quite happy. She noted that Vegeta and Bulma were looking quite cozy as well. Bulma was practically out and Vegeta was fighting sleep and losing as he rubbed her feet and legs. She sighed again as Goku mumbled something in his sleep.

She decided to give them 30 minutes before she'd get Bulma up and leave for home.

*****

This chapter moved a bit slowly, but I hope you liked it nonetheless. Comments are appreciated since any type of 'romantic' theme for me is uncharted territory. Come to think of it, it makes me downright itchy sometimes…