Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Friends ❯ 08 - Broken ( Chapter 8 )

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

Ch.08 - Broken

The rest of Bulma and Vegeta's afternoon together wasn't terribly productive, but what it lacked in productivity it made up for in fun. They got in some research for their school project before they soon became distracted looking up videos, and arguing about movies. To settle their debate about which was the worst action movie ever, they put on one of the contenders to watch.

“Do you mind?” Vegeta asked, glaring down at Bulma's feet that she'd put in his lap.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“Feet go on the floor,” Vegeta told slowly, her as if she were simple.

“They're clean,” Bulma protested, wriggling her perfectly pedicured toes at him. “Besides, it's comfortable.”

“For you.”

“Exactly,” she grinned at him.

Vegeta huffed, unamused. He grabbed her big toe, lifting her foot off his lap. It tickled. Bulma bucked and squealed in laughter. “D-don't!” she protested.

Vegeta froze. Her eyes met his. Then Vegeta's face split into a wicked grin, and Bulma forgot how to breathe. In that moment, she knew she was done for.

Vegeta pounced, grabbing both her feet and started tickling them. Bulma wailed with laughter, squirming and hitting Vegeta ineffectually, trying to pull herself free. “S-stop, stop it!” she wailed between bouts of laughter, tears of mirth running from the corners of her eyes.

Vegeta tickled her in an especially sensitive spot. Bulma's leg lashed out against her will, kicking Vegeta in the chest. She heard his soft `oof', followed by an, “Ow, fuck.” He let her go to clutch his ribs.

“Vegeta, oh god, I'm sorry,” Bulma said, sitting up and leaning over Vegeta, worried she'd inflicted serious harm upon him. She touched his arm gently.

As soon as she did, Vegeta grabbed her wrist and pushed her down onto the couch. He straddled her, smirking down at her, his arms pinning her wrists above her head. “Just for that kick, I'll be showing you no mercy.”

“It was an accident!” Bulma protested, but Vegeta was having none of it. His fingers dug into her sides, and Bulma squealed as he tickled her ruthlessly. She tried to buck him off, but he was immovable.

“Un-cle…!” Bulma gasped, writhing, begging for quarter.

Vegeta leaned over her, still pinning her down, smirking at her evilly. “Say `pretty please'.”

“Can't… breathe…!”

“You can beg better than that.”

“V-Vegeta!” Bulma cried out, half laughing, half crying as Vegeta's wicked fingers sent waves of ticklish pleasure throughout her body. “P-please stop, hahaha… I'll do anything!”

“Anything?” he purred, his voice sounding deep, husky.

Bulma thought she was going to pass out if he tickled her much longer. She nodded breathlessly.

Vegeta leaned in and kissed her.

His mouth was warm and firm. She moaned, her eyes falling closed. Already lightheaded, Bulma found all her air being stolen by his kiss, lights sparkling before her eyes. She melted underneath him and she stopped struggling, kissing him back.

After a last, lingering kiss, Vegeta broke the contact, pulling back. Bulma made a small, plaintive sound of disapproval as he pulled away. He searched her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. Bulma could feel a blush on her cheeks, her lips parted as she panted, breathless, struggling to let her mind catch up to what had happened. He was still looking at her when all she wanted him to do was kiss her again.

“What's that?” she asked suddenly, nodding at his top.

Vegeta looked down, confused. He let go of her hands to inspect his shirt. “What?”

“This,” she said and fisted her hand in his top, tugging him down for another searing kiss. She felt him smirk against her mouth, and she grinned back.

“Think you're clever, huh?” he teased.

“I am a genius,” she purred back.

“Shut it, Briefs.”

“Make me.”

Vegeta kissed her and she greedily accepted it, fisting her fingers into his shirt and pulling his firm body close against hers.

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After making out for who knew how long, they finally broke apart and cuddled up on the couch, continuing their movie marathon. Vegeta spooned her from behind and Bulma made sure she was pressed as tightly against him as she could possible get. She couldn't believe that he'd kissed her or that he was now cuddling her, one hand laying casually on her hip, the other propping up his head to watch the TV. Bulma couldn't stop smiling. She'd been fooling herself all this time, trying to ignore how much she really liked Vegeta. She hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted him until he'd kissed her, and it had felt like perfection.

It felt so impossibly safe, so good and warm to be next to him that she didn't even remember falling asleep in his arms.

Bulma woke to the feeling of someone stroking her hair. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the room was only half lit, the dusky light of sunset barely seeping through the curtains. She had rolled over, her face pressed into Vegeta's chest. He was watching her sleep. She blushed, feeling grateful the dim light would hide her rosy cheeks.

“I fell asleep?”

Vegeta brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I told you that movie's second half blew.”

“What time is it?”

“Time for me to head home,” Vegeta said regretfully.

Bulma frowned, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “… Don't?”

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. “Don't what?”

“Go,” Bulma asked, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “Stay with me?”

Vegeta's hand stilled. He hesitated to answer, looking away from her. “I don't think I should… Your parents…”

“They don't care. They're totally clueless, they have their own things to worry about. They probably think you've already gone.”

Vegeta looked unconvinced. “I have a curfew.”

“You can break it, can't you?” Bulma begged. “You did before when you came to warn me.”

Vegeta was silent a while, thinking, his brow softly furrowed. Bulma waited with baited breath. What they had was so new and precarious, she wasn't ready to let it go just yet.

Vegeta finally looked back up at her, drinking in the sight of her face in the waning light. He sighed. “Fine,” he relented. His hand started petting her hair again.

Bulma sighed contentedly, appeased, and buried her face against his chest once more. She enjoyed the sensation of his fingers in her hair, the musky scent of him in her nose, and the hard warmth of his body against hers.

Bulma hummed as Vegeta's fingers started wandering, moving down her throat, skimming over her shoulder, along her arm. He moved his fingers to her waist, tracing little circles against her hip and belly. The sensation caused her skin to prickle with goosebumps, and Bulma had to bite her lip against the ticklish sensation.

“You're pretty sensitive,” he remarked, his voice sounding amused.

“Don't go getting any ideas,” she warned him, although her voice was more breathless than threatening.

“Why would I get any ideas?” he teased back, his fingers starting to slip beneath the waistband of her shorts.

Bulma shivered in delight. Then she grabbed his hand and put it back on her hip. “You need to be good if you want to stay.”

“You're the one who wanted me to stay,” he reminded her. “I've never been great at being good.”

“Never too late to start,” she murmured.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked her, leaning in to nuzzle her hair by her ear. “Or are you secretly hoping I'll shove you down and have my wicked way with you?”

Bulma blushed furiously, Vegeta's words holding more truth than she cared to admit. She glared at him to hide her embarrassment. “Just try it, and I'll scream bloody murder.”

“Blood doesn't bother me.”

“So I've noticed.”

He smirked but didn't try anything. They lay in silence together for a few more minutes, Vegeta's fingers still gently stroking her hip. Then he sat up, stretching. “I'm hungry. Go get me some food.”

“Get it yourself, I'm comfortable,” Bulma complained, stretching out to take the warm spot Vegeta had created.

“And run into your mother?” Vegeta asked with a raised brow.

Bulma thought about that. As liberal as her parents were, it would probably still be safer that her mother and father didn't know that Vegeta was spending the night. Bulma sighed and sat up. “Okay, okay, I'll get some food.”

Bulma quietly fetched dinner for them. They ate together in her room on the couch, and they marathoned more martial art movies.

Bulma must have fallen asleep again, as the next thing she knew she was being picked up by strong arms and carried over to her bed. She nuzzled Vegeta's neck sleepily. “I can walk… Your ribs…” she protested softly.

Vegeta scoffed. “Like you're heavy enough to trouble my ribs. Besides, we're here.” He lay her down on the bed, and Bulma curled up, opening her eyes enough to look at him. Vegeta stood, looming over her, looking back down at her as she nestled under the covers.

She could make out his silhouette in the dark. Through sleep laden eyes, she didn't see a boy but a man, hard and powerful and entirely focused on her. Bulma felt a thrill of sensual excitement, followed by a large bout of nerves.

Vegeta toed off his socks then unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt. He grabbed the collar and lifted the shirt off in one easy, practiced motion. Bulma bit her lip as Vegeta's torso was revealed to her in the inky, moonlit room.

He was perfect; lean but muscular, every part of him well defined from his biceps, to his chest, to his belly. Bulma had always had a healthy appreciation of the male form, and Vegeta's was the best she'd ever seen. The only imperfections were his scars and bruises from past and recent fights.

Vegeta left his jeans on and lay down on the bed, staying above the covers. He lay on his side so that he could face her. Bulma snuggled up to him and ran her fingers lightly over his chest, tracing his scars and mottled bruises. The more her fingers wandered, the more imperfections she encountered, each one breaking her heart just a little more. What kind of life had Vegeta suffered at such a young age? All she'd ever endured seemed so childish and trivial now in comparison. How spoilt did she look in his eyes? Bulma was surprised Vegeta put up with her at all.

Bulma's hand reached Vegeta's lower belly, tracing along the lines of his abdominals. He was magnificent. Vegeta hissed, grabbing her hand to still it.

Bulma's eyes widened. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” she asked, worried she'd pressed on a wound.

Vegeta shook his head. “The opposite,” he said, his voice almost a growl with how husky it was. Bulma blushed, realizing the effect she was having on him.

She gave him a coy little smirk, pleased that she could affect him. “Guess you're sensitive too.”

“I have my limits, Bulma,” he replied gruffly, and Bulma tried not to melt at the way he said her name. He pulled the blanket over her more tightly, keeping himself separated, a physical barrier between them as if he didn't trust himself otherwise.

“Wait, I'm not comfortable,” Bulma complained, and started fidgeting under the blanket.

Vegeta grunted as she wriggled about. “What the hell are you doing?”

A moment later, Bulma produced her shorts and tossed them to the floor.

Vegeta watched them land, then looked back at Bulma with raised brows. “You'd better pray you still have something on under there.”

Bulma grinned at him wickedly, pulling the blanket up beneath her chin. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

Vegeta lifted the blanket and peeked underneath. Bulma squealed, trying to pull it back down. They wrestled for a while, Bulma laughing breathlessly until Vegeta won and got under the blanket with her. It quickly turned into another make out session, and they kissed each other hungrily. Vegeta's hands ran over her lithe body, his jeans grinding against her panties.

Suddenly there was a sound outside the bedroom door. Both of them froze, panicked about getting caught.

“Meow!”

Bulma gave an exasperated sighed, relaxing. “It's Scratch, my dad's cat.”

Vegeta took longer to relax, clearly thinking he'd almost been caught red handed by her parents. He swore softly under his breath and rolled off her, throwing an arm over his eyes in frustration.

“Night, Bulma.”

Bulma smiled sympathetically and curled up next to him. “Night, Vegeta.”

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When Bulma woke the next morning, Vegeta was already gone. Bulma wished she could have woken by his side, but she also knew they'd both be in a heap of trouble if he got caught. She lay in bed for a while as the sun slowly rose, breathing in his scent that lingered on her pillows, trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened yesterday. Bulma blushed, remembering their kisses and the feel of his hands on her body. The memory alone made her feel hot and bothered and aching for him.

She wondered how quickly she could scheme for him to come over again. Would today be too soon? Perhaps they could meet somewhere, away from the threat of parents or cock-blocking cats?

With ideas whirring in her mind, Bulma stretched out, trying to find her phone before remembering she'd left it on the table. She got up and found her cell was already flashing with a notification. Bulma opened her messages, seeing it was from Vegeta.

Had to leave early to get home. Might not be able to reply to you today. See you Monday.

It was hardly a love note, but it was the most words Vegeta had ever typed out to her in one go. Bulma smiled and punched out a reply.

Okay. I'll bring you lunch on Monday. Miss you already. Bulma frowned, worrying her lip, then deleted the last line, worried she sounded too clingy. Okay. I'll bring you lunch on Monday. Have a good weekend! [Winky face] [kissy face] [smiley face]. She sent it and went about getting ready.

She showered and ate breakfast, then called Chi-Chi. “Want to go shopping?”

“Of course. In a good mood?”

Bulma beamed. “You've no idea.”

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___ ~___X___~___X___~

Bulma spent Sunday with Chi-Chi shopping for lingerie and new outfits and whatever else caught her fancy. She checked her phone occasionally but she didn't worry when she didn't receive any messages, Vegeta had warned her that he might be unable to text her, and he'd promised to see her at school on Monday.

She sent him a message before she went to bed that night, hoping he might be able to reply. How was your day? Looking forward to tomorrow. [Smiley face] After an hour she was about the give up on receiving a message back when her phone buzzed.

Have a good day? He texted her.

Bulma smiled, elated. Yes! [Smiley face] [thumbs up] You?

Several minutes later, his reply came. Tired.

Bulma's smile faltered. It had taken an awful long time for such a short message to come through. She sent a sympathetic sad-face emoji back to Vegeta. After another interminable wait, he replied.

Night, Bulma.

Bulma tried not to feel disappointed. Perhaps she'd woken him which is why his messages were so sparse. She sent back a good night, and waited, but there were no further replies. Figuring she'd just have to wait until the following day to get any decent dialogue with him, Bulma put her phone away and went to sleep.

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The next morning Bulma was too excited to drag her feet like she usually did on a Monday. She was ready to go before her mother had finished making her breakfast. “I'll eat it on the way in!” Bulma called, taking a couple slices of toast with her out the door. She took the long way in to school since she had the time and because it was the most likely route for Vegeta to take to school.

She was finished her toast when she saw a familiar spiky haired figure ahead of her. Bulma could barely contain herself. She started jogging over to Vegeta and was about to call out to him when she noticed how slowly he was moving, and that he was struggling to walk in a straight line. His bag over his right shoulder, which was odd considering that was the side of his broken rib. Bulma approached him more cautiously, uncertainty quickening her heartbeat. Something was off.

“Vegeta?” she asked softly as she reached him.

Vegeta stopped in his tracks, his shoulders hunching at the sound of her voice. He didn't turn to look at her. Bulma felt her throat go dry as she stepped up to his side to get a look at him, fearing the worst. When she saw his face, there were not new bruises, but he looked exhausted, pale, and sweaty.

“Hey, Briefs,” he muttered, looking past her.

“Don't `hey, Briefs' me,” Bulma said, her voice tense. “Are you sick? You don't look well.”

“I'm fine, just tired,” Vegeta said, his voice sounded hoarse, overused.

Bulma reached out to take his hand in hers. The moment she touched his fingers he flinched back, sucking in a sharp, pained breath. He clutched his arm at the shoulder, wincing.

Bulma reeled back, shocked. “Vegeta… You're hurt.”

Vegeta panted, his face strained as he shook his head. “It's nothing… just a pulled muscle.”

Bulma felt fear rise in her gut, which only sparked her rage. “Pulled muscle my butt. Can you even raise your arm?”

“I said it's fine.”

“Do it!”

“Fuck off, Briefs.”

“Raise your arm, goddamnit,” Bulma shrieked at him, terrified now.

Vegeta glared back at her. Then he looked down at his arm. His fingers twitched and his hand shook. He could barely raise his arm a few inches before crying out in pain, and he fell to his knees, overcome. Bulma dropped down to the ground with him, pulling out her phone and calling the ambulance.

“Why do have to be so goddamn nosey?” he snapped at her, his head bowed in defeat, sweat dripping down his face.

“Because I care about you, you stupid, prideful jerk!” she shouted back at him, feeling tears brim in her eyes.

“Tch,” he replied weakly. He sat back against the sidewalk wall, leaning his head against it, too weak to argue with her further. By the time the ambulance arrived, Vegeta was barely conscious. Because neither he nor Bulma could provide much information about his condition, the paramedics cut off his top to examine him and place sensors on his vitals. Bulma cried out in horror when she saw his torso. Vegeta was riddled with fresh bruises, great big black splotches marring his chest and back. Intermingled with the bruises were welts, great ugly lash marks criss-crossing his flesh, raw and swollen. Bulma could also see that his arm was broken by the unnatural way it lay at his side. He was feverish and on the verge of passing out, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometime in the span of 24 hours, someone had tortured Vegeta severely; he'd had none of these injuries Saturday night. Bulma couldn't stop the horrified tears from streaming down her face.

When they arrived at the hospital she was separated from Vegeta so that he could be stabilized. She sat on a bench in a hall and called her father in tears. She told Dr. Briefs about Vegeta's condition and everything that she suspected.

“Papa, I'm sure he's being abused at home,” she sobbed into her phone, sobbing inconsolably. “We have to help him. We have to do something, it gets worse every time, please, before they kill him. Please, Papa.”

“Okay, alright, calm down, sweetheart. We'll see what we can do.”

“Please, please…”

“I said alright, Bulma. Now, why don't you go back to school so you can be with your friends?”

“No, I'm not leaving him here alone!” she wailed hysterically.

“Alright, hush now, there's a good girl. You take care of Vegeta, but let the doctors do their job, okay? I'll call the school to let them know where you two are, then I'll make some phone calls about Vegeta. But honey, I can't promise anything. Child custody is a tricky business, you know.”

Bulma sniffed, nodding even though Dr. Briefs couldn't see her do so. She wiped her eyes, letting her father's voice calm her down. No one was as smart as her father. If anyone could solve this problem, it was him.

“I know you can do it, Papa. Please help him, it's all my fault, it's all my fault because I invited him over and asked him to stay past his curfew…” Bulma dissolved into another fit of sobs, riddled with guilt. Vegeta was hurt because of her, she was positive. He must have gotten caught and punished for breaking his curfew, what else could it have been? What made it worse was that Vegeta had known it was going to happen, and yet he'd chosen to stay with her anyway. She'd asked him to stay, she'd begged him like the spoilt, entitled brat that she was.

Bulma felt like trash.

She ended the call with her father assuring he'd do his best by Vegeta. Bulma collected herself and went back into Vegeta's room. He was laying in bed, asleep, an IV drip in his arm feeding him much needed fluids. His left arm was in a cast, his entire torso covered in bandages. Bulma took a seat by his bed, staring at his wan face. In sleep he looked so much younger and vulnerable, his impressive scowl and arrogant confidence washed away. Bulma rested her head on the bed by his hand, watching Vegeta breathe until she too fell into a fitful, guilt-ridden slumber.

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AN:

Oh, Bulma :(

And Oh me, I'm so effing tired I'm about to pass out. Forgive any errors if there are any, I've tried proof-reading this chapter but I'm seriously about to sleep on my keyboard here so my mind isn't as sharp as it should be.

I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter! I'm also curious if there are any artists amongst the readership here. Would love a little drawable to use as the `cover art' on FanFiction if anyone is game? Or just to satisfy my own Vegebul lust, haha.

New chapter soon! ;)