Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Decoding the Saiyan ❯ Touch II ( Chapter 12 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: I've used the prompt `touch' before, but it is also part of the Senses Challenge on the Blue & Black LJ community, and thinking about the word today finally helped me to develop this scene, which I had been agonizing over for the past few days.

Touch II

Bulma had told herself that she would inform Vegeta of the news as soon as she returned home from the radiologist's practice.

That had been the plan.

It was not her fault, she mused as they tangled themselves in her sheets, that Vegeta happened to be a horny bastard who jumped her at every opportunity. After all, how could she tell him that she was pregnant when he had his tongue down her throat? Still, she felt the tiniest bit guilty as they made love, especially when his hand brushed over her stomach, caressing the smooth skin around her navel.

The guilt increased ten-fold when they lay finished side-by-side, his shoulder tucked under her neck so that his arm curled around her and his hand cupped her breast. The room was silent apart from their breathing, and Bulma did her best to calm herself. But the sick feeling of guilt and fear- though thankfully not morning sickness- swirled in her belly and wrapped around her chest as if it were a physical thing, constricting her, squashing her flat.

Vegeta's hand dipped lower, the feather-light touch of his fingertips brushing a path down past her navel. Her heart beat frantically as his hand flattened knowingly across her lower abdomen, and, unable to stop herself, her eyes darted sideways to gauge his expression.

He stared back at her, unamused.

“Your pills didn't work, woman,” he spoke softly, his voice nothing more than a gravelly whisper.

A chill ran down her spine. “I know,” she whispered back. “I had it confirmed today.”

He didn't seem mad. She swallowed the spittle in her mouth and rolled closer to him, pressing herself against the side of his body. His hand lingered on her hip, brushing slowly up and down.

“How did you know?” she whispered, her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, inhaling his spicy scent.

“It has a ki,” he whispered after a moment. “It's strong. Far stronger than you.”

“How long have you…?” she trailed off.

“Weeks.”

“You never said anything,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

“What is there to say?” he replied flatly. She opened her eyes wide as he shifted, pulling away from her. She watched him in silence as he stood, her eyes following him across the room while he dressed.

This calm, quiet reaction- this revelation that he had known just as long as she had- was not what she had expected. It unnerved her. She could yell back at an angry Vegeta, but when he remained silent like this, it was as if he was refusing all communication with her completely. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth, and she struggled to get any words out.

“We can talk about this!” she whispered urgently as he opened her balcony door, preparing to leave.

He froze, not bothering to turn around.

“I have nothing to say about the matter, woman,” he told her quietly. She watched, wide-eyed, as he stepped out onto the balcony and took to the air.

The sickness in her stomach returned as she realised that he just didn't care. He didn't give a shit that she was pregnant with his baby.

She ran into her bathroom, and spent the next ten minutes hunched over the toilet bowl.