Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Darkened Ship ❯ Chapter 7

Quartermaster Rowe, up on the docking bridge heads for the ladder upon hearing Bulma's shriek of fright tear through the dark, frosty darkness.

 

“Help! Oh, please help me!” Bulma cried as Vegeta grasps her wrist.

“I've got you,” Vegeta says as he tries to wrench her up. “I won't let go.” His fingers turn pallid with all the muscle that he is using to hold her up, while bracing himself on the railing with his other hand. Bulma struggles to get some kind of toehold on the smooth hull. Bulma struggles as he tries to lift her bodily over the railing, but she can't seem to get any footing in her lengthy, expensive dress and her evening shoes and she slips back, a scream falling from her ruby lips. Vegeta finally manages to get her over the railing. They fall together onto the deck in a tangled pile, spinning in such a way that Vegeta lands slightly on Bulma.

 

Rowe slides down the ladder from the docking bridge like it's a fire drill and run across the fantail.

“What the fuck is all this?” Rowe cries in disgust. He runs over removes Vegeta from Bulma, revealing her disheveled cloths and her azure hair spread around her face like a halo. There are tear streaks on her flushed cheeks and her dress is torn above the knee, revealing her creamy, white leg. Two seamen join them at the end of the ship, their eyes drawn to the sobbing woman on the ground. They all there look at Vegeta, the steerage man with his jacket off and the then back a Bulma, the first class lady clearly in distress and come to one instant conclusion. He turns to Vegeta, his gaze hard as is Vegeta's. “Stand back!” he yells, Vegeta taking one step back. “Don't move an inch!” Vegeta frowns.

“You tell me to stand back and then you tell me not to move! What the fuck.”

“Silence,” Rowe says before looking back at the pair of seamen. “Fetch the Master at Arms.”

 

A few minutes later…

Vegeta is being detained by a very burly Master at Arms, the closest thing to a cop on board the ship. He has handcuffed Vegeta, who looks pissed off at the world.

“Name,” the Master at arms states.

“Vegeta Ouji,” he says evenly.

“Mr. Ouji, you will be detained until we reach America.” While he reads Vegeta his rights off to the side is Bulma sitting on a bench, her eyes puffy from crying. Next to her is Roshi, he offers her his brandy snifter, but she refuses. Yamcha is move interested in Vegeta. He grabs him by the lapels, his face just inches from his own.

“What made you think that you could put your fucking grimy hands on my fiancée?!” Vegeta looks past him at the hunched up Bulma. “Look at me you bastard! What did you think that you were doing?” he asked, his voice rising as he shook the dark haired man.

“Yamcha, stop! It was an accident!” Yamcha turns his darkened eyes to her.

“A-An ac-ccident?” he asked in shock and confusion.

“It was… stupid really,” she said as she got up. “I was leaning over and I slipped.” Bulma looks over at Vegeta, their eyes making contact. “I was leaning over to see the… ah…” she says, the words stuck on her tongue as she looks down at the ground, her finger spinning as she tries to spit the word out.

“The propellers,” Yamcha said, aiding her.

“I slipped and would have gone overboard,” she said as she looked back over at Vegeta. “Mr. Ouji saved me and almost fell in with me.”

“You wanted to see the propellers?” he asked, incredulous. Roshi shakes his head.

“Women and machinery do not mix.” The Master at arms looks at Vegeta.

“Was that the way it happened?” the gruff man asked. Bulma looks at him, her big, cerulean eyes begging him not to say what really happened.

“Yeah, that was pretty much it.” He looks at Bulma a moment longer, his eyes not able to look away from hers. Now they have a secret together.

“Well! The boy is a hero then,” Roshi says as he pats Vegeta on the back. “Good for you sonny, well done.” He turns to Yamcha, a broad smile on his old face. “So, it's all good, so now let us get back to our brandy.” Vegeta is freed from his handcuffs. Yamcha puts his arm around Bulma's cloaked figure. He pulls her close, his hands rubbing her cold body.

“You're freezing, lets get you inside.” They head inside; Bulma looks over her should at Vegeta while Yamcha is more than ready to go without a second glance at the dark haired male.

“Ah…” Roshi says, his voice low. “Perhaps a little something for the boy?”

“Oh, right,” he turns to his loyal guard. “Mr. Nappa. A twenty should do it.” Bulma looks up at him, displeasure in her blue eyes.

“Is that the going rate for saving the woman that you claim to love?” Yamcha looks down at her, a frown on his young face.

“Bulma is displeased,” he whispered. “Mmm… What to do?” Yamcha turns to Vegeta. He looks him up and down, his gaze condescendingly… He looks at him like he is trash, something that smells rank. “I know,” he says looking away from Vegeta. “Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow.” He turned to Vegeta. “You can tell us about your heroic tale.” Vegeta's looks over at Bulma.

“Sure. Count me in.” Yamcha turns from him.

“Good.” Yamcha puts his arm around Bulma and as he walks by Roshi he mutters with a chuckle. “This should be quite the show.” Just as Nappa is leaving Vegeta stops him with a whistle.

“Can I bum a smoke?” he inquires. The big guard pulls out a gold Cigarette case and snaps it open. After taking one for later he grabs one more. Nappa lights Vegeta cigarette before looking down at Vegeta's booted feet.

“You might want to lace those,” he says. Vegeta looks down at his boots and shrugs. “Interesting,” the large man mutters causing Vegeta to look back at him. “The young lady slipped so suddenly, but you had enough time to remove your boots and your jacket.” Nappa's expression is bland, but his black eyes are cold. He turns and walks to join his group.