Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Beside Me ❯ Beside Me ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Summary: This is the sequel to How although there is no need to read the prequel, it would be a nice set up. A very sweet moment between our favorite couple at Halloween. Just good old B/V interaction. This one-shot is short and sweet and completely senseless, so read it!



Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ nor the lyrics to the song Beside Me by the band Forty Foot Echo.




Vegeta looked down at the great expanse of white material that clung to his muscled torso. He grunted in frustration as he tackled the miniature white buttons with a focused determination. He could faintly hear the soft footsteps of his woman approach him from behind, knowing their gentle tread from pure instinct.



He snarled quietly to himself as he missed the small hole yet again, but vowing that he would not give up his battle with the strangely cut shirt, "You had better appreciate this Bulma," he grumbled, smirking internally as he felt, rather than saw her disappointed pout.



In the ten years they had been joined together, she still hadn't mastered the art of taking him unawares. Not that she would be able to. The day he let his guard down would be the day he kissed his rival's feet. And that would never happen. He could sense, smell and taste her from a mile away and there was no chance in the seven Hells of her ever being able to sneak up on him. He had made it his business to know where she was, especially after the fiasco with Buu... If only he could have done it sooner.



It was not in his nature to care for another. His number one priority for most of his child and adult life, was himself. But in the past few years that had slowly started to change as Bulma showed him how to retain the capacity of caring for another, of loving another. Slowly but surely, he found himself relaxing more and more in her presence, he felt the stone walls around his heart slowly begin to crack and... The thought wasn't entirely uncomfortable.



On the contrary, it was strangely soothing.



And yet, he still had not spoken the three words she longed to hear the most. He knew that those three words of reassurance would solidify their relationship for the rest of their living days, but there was still something holding him back.



Perhaps he was somehow flawed in his characteristics... Who knew? He certainly didn't. There was one thing he was certain about, and that was his dedication; the duty he felt to protect his mate, his family. Only Dende would know when he would be able to voice his thoughts and feelings. But he knew that this moment, this day, was not the right one.




Vegeta watched her walk around him from the corner of his eye, taking in a glorious view of her enlarged stomach before anything else. He sighed and shook his head, marvelling in secret shock as her small, fragile hands came to rest upon his, stilling them with a serene intent he had never felt emanating from her before this day.



He could barely feel the peaked bump of her stomach pressing into his abdomen as she silently removed his hands from his shirt.



Without preamble, she deftly began to button up his shirt, her fingers moving swiftly over the smooth material with a feline grace.



She finished buttoning his shirt and looked up into his eyes, smoothing out the creases at his broad shoulders, "There," she concluded softly, "I guess you do need me around for something other than sex," her eyes twinkled with hidden mirth as she fixed his collar.



He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself as he continued to stare down into her eyes that mirrored the sky, filled with wisdom and knowledge of love that he could never begin to comprehend.


He didn't presume to know what had taken place in that moment, but he knew it was profound in its own merit. Not once had he willingly let her help him in anything and yet today he couldn't stop himself from allowing her this one, small gesture.



It was... Strange--oddly comforting.



"I do appreciate this," she whispered, leaning up to place a gentle kiss upon his lips.



As she drew back, he found himself frowning, only to earn her laughter as she held her shoulders back and stuck her stomach out, flapping her arms in a rather silly gesture. He caught himself before he could laugh at her childish antics.



"I know, I know!" She exclaimed, catching the amuzement on his face, "I look like a beached whale in this dress, right?" No, he thought, you look amazing.



She waddled over to the dressing table of their room, her indigo dress sashaying with every movement of her broadened hips as she began to hum and adorn her body with her one many frivolous jewelled necklaces. He watched her silently, unable to utter a word, but simply content to watch her


He knew that she looked completely ridiculous and utterly beautiful in that same moment. But even as he tried to form the words in his mouth, they refused to be voiced. He exhaled sharply, raking his hand through his upturned hair.



"Are you done?" He voiced impatiently, desperately wanting this evening to be over so that he could be in bed with his mate.



"Vegeta," she scolded lightly, "Have patience. Beauty of this nature takes time."



He snorted and strode up to her, standing precariously close, the front of his body centimetres away from her own supple back, "You look fine," he breathed into her ear, removing her straying hand from the blue ringlet of hair that framed her cheek.



"I just want everything to be perfect for tonight," she said softly, tilting her head as she looked at their reflection in the mirror.



"Perfection is unattainable."



She smiled briefly at him, causing his stoned heart to crack in that one subtle gesture.



Over the years she had placed many cracks in his hardened heart. It marvelled him, how no other could achieve such a feat, not even Frieza, and yet this small vixen had managed to reshape and define his weathered, beaten heart into something that remotely resembled normalcy. It secretly astounded him, but he believed it, albeit unwillingly. So why could he never voice his thoughts? What was holding him back?



"I don't believe that," she countered smartly, leaning back against his solid chest.



"And why not?" He growled challengingly.



She rose to the occasion by throwing him a small wink, "I believe that with determination and strength of mind, anything can be achieved. Even perfection."



"That's a foolish concept if I ever heard one."



"No it's not; just think about it. If you have the will and dexterity, the impossible becomes possible; the improbable becomes probable," Bulma grinned at him, pulling away to move forward and retrieve two masks from the wooden dressing table, "Therefore a form of perfection is attainable."



"If that is the case, then what is your idea of perfection in life? Name me one thing woman," he argued, refusing to be beaten in this battle of wits. He was certain that nothing could be perfect.



She whirled around to face him, her electric blue eyes glinting with a hidden challenge, "Love," she murmured the word so softly that he had to strain his ears to hear it, "Love is perfection."



He laughed cruelly, unable to see her face sink in dejection, "Love is flawed."



"How so?"



"It's selfish and passionate, physically sating. There are no virtues there, so it can hardly be categorized as perfection."



"Love is virtuous Vegeta," her voice rose a decibel, indicating her frustration. She tossed him the mask, making him catch it with one hand, which he did so with ease, "But only if a person loves on a spiritual level, not with the intent of gaining materialistic or physical satisfaction; if they did then it wouldn't be love, it would be greed and selfishness." She walked briskly towards the door, putting her feathered mask over her eyes. Somehow, he was sure that he had upset her; but he didn't know how or why.



"And have you ever seen such an instance of this virtuous love you believe in?" He continued in his snarling voice, enjoying their debate and refusing to let the subject be forgotten as he placed the strangely decorated porcelain mask over his eyes.



He paused before ripping the mask off and putting it in his pocket. What was he been thinking? This wasn't him! He refused to dress up for a party that he didn't even wish to go to! He was a warrior, not a doll.



Bulma froze in the doorway ready to answer his question, "I have. I have seen love in the form of perfection. I see it when I look at Goku and ChiChi, when I look at Krillin and Eighteen, my mother and father," she said quietly, staring out into the brightly lit hallway, refusing to look at him as he stepped beside her, "The question is Vegeta; do you see it?"



He pondered the question briefly before allowing her the use of his arm. She linked their arms together with a moment of hesitation, making him frown.



Now what did he say to deserve such aloofness?! He honestly didn't understand why his woman turned such a cold shoulder to him. He simply mistook her silence and stoic posture for one of her hormonal mood swings, unable to see how his spoken words had pained her and how his unspoken words left her oblivious. He shook his head, knowing he would have to think about... Everything.




Bulma rubbed the space between her breasts, trying to ease the frustrating emotions that were forming inside her troubled heart. She didn't know why every time she thought she was making progress with her husband, he would take two steps backwards and prolong the process of healing! Did he honestly believe that love wasn't perfection? She couldn't blame him if he did, especially after the time he spent as Frieza's mercenary, but she thought... She sighed heavily--she didn't know what to think.



She looked up at the large khaki pagoda that had been erected at the center of Capsule Corp's grounds. Expensive streamers extended from the peaked center, branching out to wrap around the surrounding trees. It looked magical and yet she couldn't believe it was for Halloween.



The Halloween party was for the employees of the company but her father had assured her it was all right to invite her friends and so that was what she had done. She smiled wearily; at least no one had to dress up in any ridiculous costumes. This year her father had decided to have a 'masked' theme where people would attend in formal attire with masks so they wouldn't be recognized. It seemed silly, but she supposed it was all in good fun.



Her hand absently wandered to her large protruding stomach as she sat back on the bench of the dimly lit garden. She could faintly hear the melodic music drifting towards her in the silent breeze; it comforted her.



Once again her thoughts drifted over to her husband. It was funny how he annoyed her to such depths, but in the end she knew she wouldn't give him up for the world.


And she knew--knew that he loved her. The proof was in child growing inside of her stomach. So why had she reacted bitterly towards his words? It was the first conversation they'd had about any form of emotion but still, something was missing.



Bulma had spent the past two years showing him how to love. It had been difficult and they argued as much as before but... The tone of their arguments had changed. If she were an outsider, she would have demanded a separation upon witnessing their heated discussions, but to Bulma, their bickering seemed to have an affectionate undertone that no one else could see.



She didn't know what else she could do to show him how to love, she'd done everything. The rest was up to him. With this conclusion, she stood up from the bench, determined not to let one misconceived conversation ruin her evening. She would find him later and they would--



"Care to dance?"



She frowned, flicking a glance at the masked man and shaking her head, "No thank you, I was just going back inside."



"Are you sure you want to do that?"



Bulma rolled her eyes, not bothering to look in his direction as she tottered towards the pagoda. As she drew nearer, the voices of chattering people grew louder with each step; relief filled her veins.



She gasped as she felt rough hands grasp her shoulders tightly.



"No one walks away from me," the man hissed.



Bulma struggled in fury, "Look here you fucker, I'm married and I'm pregnant so if I say I don't want to dance, that means I don't want to dance!" She shrieked in rage, trying to lash out at the man as he held her from behind, which was hard to do in her pregnant state, "Get your filthy hands off of me before I call my husband. I mean it, he'll rip you into tiny shreds, he'll decapitate you and--" She took a deep breath, "Vegeta!" But she knew that her voice couldn't be heard over the loud music as she was standing too close to the back entrance of the pagoda. Panic began to surface in her features, surely he would sense her ki rising? "Vegeta!" She shouted again.



Before she could say or do anything more, she was spun around by the stranger.



Her mouth hung open in shock as the man pulled off the mask from his face, allowing his jet black hair to spring back up into it's flamed stance.



He smirked at her, "I'm right here."



"B--but, how? Why?" She stuttered incomprehensibly, blinking in confusion.



"You were right woman," he said firmly, looking into her eyes as he stood before her, "You were right, it is perfection. This is perfect."



Bulma shook her head, "Huh?"



"My life," he continued to speak quietly, pausing to grasp her shoulders, "You--perfection."



She was silent for a moment as his ebony eyes held hers in a wonderful world of their own. Finally, she spoke, "You scared me there for a moment," she joked, searching his face to find that he was certainly not joking--he was deadly serious. "Do you really mean it?" She whispered, fearing that she was dreaming this strange version of her husband.



He nodded, "I do."



A rush of breath fell from her lips in the form of a relieved sigh, "Thank you," she murmured, "It's all needed to hear."



"One more thing; trick or treat?"



Her eyebrows dipped in confusion as she saw a devilish glint in his eyes. She bit her lip before answering, "Mm... Treat?"



"Good," he chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt as she gaped at him.



Bulma looked around in shock as he began to remove his clothing. They were at the rear of the pagoda and hidden by the shadows of the trees so she was certain that no one could see but... "What are you doing Vegeta?" She voiced questioningly. This was not her Vegeta! This was a possessed creature; her Vegeta would never think of committing an indecent act in a public place. He believed that all intimacy should be carried out in the confines of their room...



Her lips moved in reprehension, but no sound came out.



He smirked innocently, well, as innocently as he could ever hope to smirk...



"Well woman, what do you say? Care to dance? I won't ask again."



Bulma knew he was deadly serious in his threat. "Sure, why not?" She broke out into a brilliant smile before jumping into his waiting arms.



He grunted as he caught her, "Woman, how much does the brat inside you weigh?" Bulma laughed and crushed her lips roughly against his, disregarding the repercussions if they were to be caught by an unsuspecting member of the party.



In that moment, nothing mattered. Only her and her husband and she knew that no matter what problems they would face in future, she would do it whilst standing beside him.




As their tongues clashed together in that silent moment where the world seemed to fade away like a distant dream, he finally understood what is meant to be loved. And although speaking the words would be difficult, he knew one day that he would be able to say them. But for now, he was content to just be in her presence, be in her life.



Because he knew that she would always stand beside him, even in death.




AN: I hope everyone enjoyed this, please review and let me know your thoughts!
Converting /tmp/phphZKJD4 to /dev/stdout