Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fixation ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

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Fixation

Chapter Four

Bulma blinked at the closed door. Finally, her heartbeat returned to normal and the sense of panic receded. A small cloud of anger whiffed through her. She used to be a very brave woman. Brave, beautiful and brainy. But during her encounter with Vegeta she had been terrified. Of him a little, but mostly of his response. He was frightening and intimidating, but there was a part of her that felt safe under his shadow. She hadn't lied to him. He was the meanest, most powerful man on Earth. If anyone could protect her it would be him, but it didn't mean he would. She wouldn't put it past Vegeta to watch as she was being dragged away by the bastard who destroyed her. What she was counting on was Vegeta's territorial instincts. That's why she wanted him to live in the same rooms as her. She wanted him to consider the suite to be his, and thereby any intruder, no matter their intent, would be fried on the spot for daring to disturb him.

She glanced around the room, noticing for the first time in weeks how messy it was. The filth in the kitchen alone was disgusting. She rubbed a shaking hand across her lips. How had that happened? How was it possible for her to lose touch with reality? Her jaw set, she fetched a box of trash bags. She scraped large piles of paper and boxes off the counters into one of the bags, bundling it up. She stalked up to the front door, before stopping cold. Sweat prickled her skull, and something awful skittered down her spine as she stared at the silver door handle. She knew he was just outside, waiting for her to unlock the door so he could spring on her, sinking his teeth into the soft parts of her body to taste her again, before dragging her off.

The door handle rattled. Her breathing raced. The locks popped off. Her skin blistered with fear. She dropped the bag, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes and recited the Periodic Table. After the third recitation, pulled her hands away to look at the door. The knob was still and the locks were intact. Inhaling deeply, she placed the bag gently against the wall near the door, before turning back towards the kitchen. By the time she was done she had a small mountain of white garbage bags piled by the entrance way. She cleaned the rest of the suite, even the bathroom in Vegeta's room, though she had to slide along the far wall, her eyes glued to the French doors watching for any intruders as she made her way there.

Darkness crept in as she waited for Vegeta to return. She turned on every light could to illuminate the all the corners. Night bled into early morning, and infomercials dominated the cable channels. Bulma's nails were bleeding, and she could taste it on her tongue. Suddenly, a horrible pounding ricochet through the room, and Bulma screamed in fright. She flipped around on the couch to peer at the door that was shaking with the force of the blows.

“Open up, you miserable female.”

Relief flooded through her, and she raced up to the door, flinging the locks open. She was blown back as Vegeta entered. He didn't bother to look at her, just hiked his blue duffle over his shoulder and stomped inside.

Pausing a few steps into the room, he sniffed disdainfully. Bulma was closing the door, when he turned around.

“What the fuck is this shit?”

Bulma glanced over her shoulder at him. He was staring at the pile of garbage on the wall. Her face flamed in embarrassment.

“I—ahh—couldn't.”

He frowned at her, his eyes narrowed.

“You are the most useless female on the planet.”

Bulma dropped her eyes. She wanted to argue, but couldn't find a basis for it. After all, he was right.

“Open the door.”

She hesitated at his command, glancing at him with wide blue eyes.

“Now,” he barked. She jumped, unlatching the door and opening it.

He picked up armful of bags like they were paper mache and flung them out into the hall. They hit the far wall, some of them bursting open and showering the floor with rotten food.

“Vegeta.”

“Let someone else clean it up. All I fucking care about is the smell in here. It smells like ass.”

Bulma didn't make a sound. As the hours ticked on she worried that he would renig on their deal, and wouldn't show. As relieved as she was that he came, she wasn't sad to see his back as he finished up and marched to his new room. He was still frightening.

Vegeta couldn't believe the mess he was in. Held hostage by a bat-brained female who was so crazy she couldn't leave her own room. He wouldn't have agreed to this crazy deal if it wasn't for the gravity room. It was the same one that Kakarott used on the way to Namk to become stronger. He eventually became the Legendary. Training under intense gravity had to be the answer to Vegeta's own ascension. He couldn't live the rest of his pathetic, miserable life with the knowledge that a third class was better than him. It was just one disgrace too many in a long line. The woman would just have to be yet another hurtle that he had to overcome. He could play her game. After all, it was all about survival.

He whipped open the top drawer of the dainty bureau and all his angry restless energy came to an abrupt, silent pause. Very slowly he picked up a scrap of red silk trimmed in black lace. It was incredibly soft and smooth as he gently rubbed it between his fingers. Unconsciously, he inhaled; flooding is senses with a tantalizing flowery scent.

His eyes drifted closed. Flashes of blue and white decorated with brilliant accents of red danced across the backs of his lids. His eyes snapped open and anger settled deeply in the lines of his face. He pulled the entire drawer from the bureau and stomped into the living area. Bulma was perched in the center of the couch, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her clothing was baggy and dark except for a mismatched pair of fuzzy socks. One yellow, the other pink.

She was chewing her thumbnail while watching a loud, obnoxious man spewing meaningless words while holding a bucket with Forever Gone stenciled across the front. When she looked up at him expectantly he could see where a ragged edge of her nail had cut into her chapped lower lip. Without a word he upended the drawer over her head and watched as a rainbow of satin underwear rained down around her. Her mouth popped open in genuine surprise, but she didn't say anything as he slammed his way back into her bedroom.

Bulma looked down at the mess in her lap. Lingerie had been her secret indulgence. Even when she had no intention of taking her clothes off she had loved wearing silky sexy panties. It had almost made her feel powerful. Her little secret in the boardroom.

He had let her know that it wasn't so secret. He had known about her little indulgence and he had been turned on by it.

Sick to her stomach and so furious it nearly choked her, Bulma gathered up her panties and bras by the handfuls and ran into the kitchen. She threw them into the sink, using the handle of the dish brush to shove them into the disposal. She flipped the switch, laughing wildly as it roared to life and ripped the delicate fabrics apart. The disposal chugged, but she didn't care, she just kept plunging more underwear down the hole.

She heard a sound behind her. She whipped around frantically scrubbing away her tears so she could see her attacker. Vegeta stood by the counter that separated the den from the kitchen. Silently, he watched her, his eyes sliding coldly down her body. The disgust she saw in his eyes sobered her more effectively than a cold shower.

Wordless, he turned his back on her and walked away. Bulma's shoulders slumped as she switched off the disposal. Silently, without tears or laughter she cleaned up the mess she had created.