Wow…I'm so excited about this fic! I hope to make it my crowning glory, my fic to end all fics! Well, not END all of them, don't worry. But you know what I mean. ;) So anyhow, here's what you will not see in this b/v get-together.

There will be 0, yes, that's ZERO uses of the words baka, onna, or any other Japanese word for that matter. Also, Vegeta is NOT in Bulma Boot Camp. He will NOT sandwich his words, "Woman, you are such a stupid baka Woman". It AIN'T happening! I can't STAND that! And yes, Yamcha will be a butthead…but not a total bastard. I don't like the guy, but I don't hate him to the core. And no lemons will be written. I don't write them, because I really couldn't write it realistically yet. For more check out my bio.

So, that's my main criteria for this fic. I'm aiming to keep it NON-AU, but since I didn't see EVERY episode of the android/cell saga, that part will be short. Not having the local DBZ channel does put limitations on ones ability to view the show.

Hope you like it, and here we go!

Oh, and while there will be some humor in this, it is not overall a humorous fic. The chapter titles will be cheesy and dramatic though, cuz it's fun. Kinda like the titles of the DBZ movies…

Anywhere But You

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Chapter One

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Disaster Strikes!!

"Yeah sure, six is fine. See you there." Bulma hung up the phone, now even more firmly resolved to settle things that very night. Yamcha would receive her ultimatum, get married or they were over. At the moment she couldn't really decide which choice she'd prefer…she tended to lean towards the 'get married' one. She wasn't getting any younger, and they'd been in a relationship for a long time, surely they'd be happy as a married couple. But they had't gone out in over a month, and she didn't feel too hopeful about their future. Lately he'd made her feel more like the famous lady he could say he was going out with than the woman he loved. "Hi, this is my girlfriend, Bulma Briefs, president of Capsule Corporations. I'm Yamcha, nice to meet you."

She slumped down into the blue lazy boy and closed her eyes, melodramatically slinging one arm across her forehead. She cried out in mock anguish, "I'm in a dead relationship, whatever shall I do?"

"Go to hell."

"After you, Vegeta," she answered quickly, without opening her eyes. She could just feel his smirk.

"Ladies first…"

"Aw shut up…I've got a date to suffer through tonight and I'm not in the mood to play 'who's the wittiest' with you."

"You just don't have a good comeback for that. Besides, I'm only warming you up for your ritual shouting match with that idiot." She opened her eyes and removed her arm to see a sarcastic innocence on his face, and she near fainted from trying not to burst into laughter.

"Thanks soooo much," she returned, ire dripping from her words. He continued his path through the room, giving the chair a firm spin on his way past. Her eyes widened, and a wordless shriek escaped her mouth as she dug her heels into the plush carpet to stop the ride he'd put her on. Whe she stopped he had already left the room.

"Vegeta! Stop flirting with me, dammit!!! You know as well as anyone that I'm taken!" An enraged shout could be heard, and the sickening crunch of plaster that could only be his fist going through a wall in revenge for her remark. "Asshole," she muttered, resolving to assess the damage after her date.

Having already dressed and primped, she slouched back into the corner of the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels. Her heart just wasn't in it as her thoughts returned time and again to the man she loved. Excuse me, had loved, past tense. She wasn't sure how she felt about him anymore, it had been so long since their relationship had had meaning. Since it had feeling. She didn't like that. Perhaps, they weren't meant to be? What if she asked him tonight, and he said yes? And what if they were miserable together? Groaning, she closed her eyes and forced her thoughts towards the current show that she'd stopped on.

Boredom gnawed at her mind, forcing her off of the couch to wander aimlessly about the house, glaring at Vegeta whenever she passed the kitchen, where he was presently residing. She found the spot where a fist-sized hole was gaping in the wall, and occupied herself by setting a few repair bots to fixing it. An idea finally struck her interest-starved brain, and she grabbed the keys and hurried out the door to where her car was kept.

Hopping into the '69 navy blue Corvette, she revved the engine, and sped off, intent on calming her nerves by way of some pre-date shopping. Pulling into the mal parking garage moments later, Bulma pulled into the double-wide space reserved for her by the 'Bulma Briefs' sign with the Capsule Corp. logo imprinted on the ground. On either side of her space sat a cement wall, insuring against anyone parking nearby. Remote locking her ride, Bulma pressed a finger to the touchpad on the edge of the space, and a heavy metal grid closed behind her vehicle, totally securing it, the only key to open the grate her own fingerprint.

She couldn't help smiling as three mall employees rushed out to greet her, wringing hands in agitation, although their faces portrayed nothing more than a welcoming smile. Eager to be alone, she waved them off, assuring them that she would be happy enough to shop alone today. A little unwilling to leave, they slowly bowed their way off into another direction.

Oh yes, being rich was good.

<~>

Hours later, a furoius Bulma headed out to her car, wordlessly flipping off any mall employees that were brave enough to approach her. Climbing into her vehicle, she shut the door and paused before inserting the key into the ignition and clutched the steering wheel, biting her lip hard to stop it's trembling. She shook her head hard, centrifugal force sending droplets of moisture in every direction. Shoving the key into place, she revved the car and squealed out of the garage, unmindful of the scurrying shoppers who fled her path.

Never before had she felt so, so angry, so…betrayed. Rage flashed through her again as glimpses of the nights happenings paraded across her vision, turning her driving into a suicidal race. Images of yamcha entering the designated restaurant, some blond bitch clinging to his arm, nattering on, oblivious to the shocked looks from the Capsule Corp. heiress. The bastard had the gall to introduce her to Bulma, trying hard to ignore the death glares that Bulma aimed at him, wishing to see his heart melt on her gas stove at home. After they were seated she roughly dragged Yamcha away, giving some lame excuse to the flake at the table.

Swerving and nearly clipping the rear bumper of a trcuk, she screeched around a corner, tires struggling to grip the wet road; she despised rain, which was now drizzling over the city.

Yamcha proceeded to explain that they hadn't even seen each other in months, and that he had assumed that they were no longer going out, thereby freeing him to pursue other interests. He was left with two flaming-red Bulma-sized handprints on his face as she stalked from the room, not even bothering to waste her breath yelling at him.

Pulling into the driveway, she slammed on the brakes, stopping a good three inches short of the house. The rain had stopped, and as she walked towards the house she glared at the sky, daring it to rain on her. It faithfully complied, the moon even daring to shine a small bit of light through the clearing clouds.

A blur of motion caught her peripheral vision as the neighbor's white cat streaked past her to crawl beneath the car. Rolling her eyes, she unlocked the front door, entering a dark post-midnight house. Entering the kitchen and grasping a beer, she tried to quiet her mind, which only succeeded in alerting her to the soft hum of the Gravity room which was obviously still in use. She heavily sat on the kitchen table, quickly unscrewing her beverage and taking a long swallow.

The open windows allowed her to hear a long pain-filled wail from outside. Hurriedly setting her beer on the table she rushed towards the front door, her heart beating wildly in her chest. That sound…it set her teeth on edge, some enormous dread filled her. She heard scuffling by her Corvette, and that same cry came again. Grasping an umbrella in shaking hands, Bulma cautiously crept towards the gleaming wet Chevy, her eyes catching the same white cat she had spotted moments ago. At the point where the hood met windshield and mirror, the cat hung upside-down by its hind foot, caught tightly under the hood. It scrabbled uselessly trying to get back atop the car, then, weary, it hung down again, releasing a low moan of pain.

"Are you just going to stare at it?" A tired, gravelly voice surprised her, and she turned to glare at Vegeta who was walking towards the animal. Lifting it with two hands, he asked that she remove it's foot from it's trap under the sheet of metal. Now free, it clung desperately to the Saiyan, claws digging into skin that remained unmarred by it's efforts. Bulma rubbed the creatures back gently, looking at the injured foot.

Seriously broken, the cat's foot was curled into a ball of broken bones. She hissed at the sight and led Vegeta, with the near-unremovable cat into the house towards the lab.

A short half hour later saw the cat sedated, the bones carefully set by a well-paid veterinarian who had come.

"Poor Smudge…" Bulma voiced as she and Vegeta returned to the kitchen, where she re-sat herself on the table and proceeded to guzzle her drink. "There's more in there, on the door," Bulma informed the Saiyajin, who looked even more in need of a drink than she did. His only acknowledgement to her was to grasp his own beer from the fridge and sit on the other side of the rounded piece of furniture from her.

"Long day, eh?" She questioned, desperately trying to break the unnerving silencing by striking up a conversation. He looked at her from beneath lowered eyebrows, an obvious 'What the hell do you think?' look. She merely shrugged and rolled her eyes, ignoring his lack of chattiness tonight…like he ever was chatty.

Returning to the refrigerator, she pulled out a few more beers and sat at the table now, instead of on it. Vegeta merely lay back with a sigh and stared at the ceiling. He accepted another bottle from the blue-haired female, and sat up just enough to down the contents in one fell swoop.

His eyes widened and he clasped his head gingerly as the alcohol hit him hard in the gut.

"Vegeta, do you even know what you're drinking?" Bulma questioned, eyeing the surprised alien from where she sat.

"Not a clue, but it's warm and fuzzy on the way down," he growled out, his tongue finally loosened by the amber liquid.

"That would be alcohol…go easy, it's mind-altering, like a drug. You don't need to get drunk," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Drunk? What's drunk? Drunk drunk drunk…what an odd sounding word…you say it," He went on, turning to grin at her. She cringed, her warning had been a bit too late to do much good…she supposed that if Vegeta was this intoxicated after only two beers that his body merely reacted more quickly to the new beverage.

"Drunk is when you're…like you are. Very little self-control, everything's funny, your temper is short, speech slurred and nonsensical. You'll also have trouble walking straight." He pushed another beer towards her.

"Join the party, we're having a blast over here and you're just sitting in this corner alone, moping around. Be happy." She pushed the unopened bottle back towards him.

"I don't think so, Vegeta. I for one don't want to get trashed tonight."

"But I'm lonely, being dah-runk. Won't you join me? I dare you to join me…" She stared incredulously at the man on the table, his eyes lolling over in her direction. It was odd to see the usually stoic Vegeta reduced to such a state, a bit unnerving.

"I think I'm a bit old to play truth or dare, Vege-"

"I'll play too. If you join me, and prove me wrong, I'll take another drink…we'll go back and forth that way…it'll be fun," he promised, waggling his eyebrows in a frightening manner. She giggled, and against her better judgement, opened another brew.

"You're on…"

<~>

"I bet you're too drunk to…to…make a sandwich." Bulma laughed out, one hand slapping the table in glee.

"I can't make a sandwich anyway…" Vegeta responded sadly, as if it was of some great anguish to him.

"Ha! Then I win, your drink," she shoved their mutual bottle across the table, and he grimaced as he took another draught.

"Well you're too drunk to make a sandwich either." Vegeta stated, and she stopped mid-giggle, defeatedly pulling the bottle to her lips and swallowing.

"It's getting so damn hard to think of new ones…" she noted sorrowfully, scratching her head in deep thought. Her eyes lit up, and she looked brightly up at her drinking buddy.

"You, are too drunk to have sex," she near shouted, and his jaw dropped.

"Wanna bet?"

<~>

An hour later Bulma blindly grasped the near empty bottle of beer and drank the remainder of the contents.

"You win."

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Author's note: There, it's freaking long, but I hope you liked it! Fear not my children, it ain't the end. Nowhere near. Alas, it is the end of this chapter though, and holy freaking shit… I'm tired. G'night!