Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Friends ❯ 11 - self control ( Chapter 11 )

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

Ch.11 - Self Control

Something chased her. It barreled down on her, a black snarling, lunging beast, a monster dredged up from the depths of some forgotten horror. She ran from it, her legs screaming, her lungs burning, but she couldn't put any distance between her and the beast, running in place as though in slow motion, as if the very air itself stuck to her, ensnaring her limbs, dragging her back, holding her down like a virgin to be sacrificed. She cried in frustration and terror as the world conspired to end her, unable to break free. She didn't want to die like this. She didn't want to die at all.

She looked over her shoulder and saw the creature was almost upon her, bounding, grinning, gnashing it's gaping maw at her, filling her nostrils with the acrid stink of smoke and twisting her gut with terror. It was going to get her. With the dread of certainty, Bulma closed her eyes, screaming for her life.

“Bulma.”

She jolted awake, startled, disorientated. For a moment Bulma didn't know where she was, the room dark and foreign, her heart slamming in her chest, her body slick with sweat and trembling in fear. Vegeta was looking down at her, his face tired and scowling, but his eyes were watching her, concerned.

She threw herself on him, wrapping her arms about his neck as she shook, clinging to him for comfort. The terror of her nightmare slowly, oh so slowly started to ebb away as she held herself against his warm, solid presence, feeling the tendrils of sleep dissipate like smoke.

Vegeta sat stiffly in her embrace, not knowing what to do. “You were crying,” he said flatly, sounding uncomfortable.

Bulma touched her cheek and found it wet with tears. She scrunched her eyes closed, embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry. Bad dream.” She started to pull back but from the corner of her eye saw his hand raised, almost touching her. He snatched it back, looking to the side and scowling in embarrassment. Had he been about to comfort her?

Bulma gave him a small smile and rubbed her arms, shaking off the last of her nightmare. “Sorry I woke you.”

Vegeta grunted and lay back down. “Go back to sleep,” he ordered her gruffly.

She lay on her side, curling to face him. His eyes were closed, scrunched shut, his brows pulled down. He looked upset. She couldn't help feeling she was responsible. “Vegeta?”

He let out a long sigh. “What?”

“I'm sorry. Not just for tonight, but for everything.”

“Forget it, Briefs.”

“No,” she insisted softly. “I shouldn't have meddled without talking to you, but I was worried. I only wanted to help because I care for you, because… you're my friend. You are my friend, aren't you?” she suddenly asked.

He made an irritated sound, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwing shut tighter. “Go to sleep, Bulma.”

“We're still friends, aren't we, Vegeta?” she begged, desperate now. “Your dad didn't forbid that at least, did he?”

“Fine! Yes, whatever. Can we go to sleep now?” Vegeta huffed, annoyed by her insistence.

Bulma settled down, curling her fingers in the pillow by her head, satisfied with his answer, for now. She closed her eyes, and right before she drifted off, she thought she felt him tuck the blanket snuggly over her shoulders.

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

The next morning Vegeta was up and using the shower by the time she woke up. They got ready for school and, as promised, Vegeta walked with her to keep her safe. They had to leave early since Bulma was only able to manage a slow, limping walk, her ankle still swollen from her fall. Vegeta refused to give her his shoulder this time, no matter how much she begged or pouted. He just snapped at her about learning to manage by herself, and that was that. As they made their way to school, they both kept an eye out for dark tinted cars, but none were to be seen. The walk was quiet and uneventful, Vegeta not in the mood to talk, and Bulma was content to enjoy his protective company in silence.

At the lunch break, Vegeta sat in his own broody bubble, ignoring Bulma and the rest of her friends like he had been doing the past few days. But this time when he was just about finished eating, he paused over the brownie on his tray. His eyes darted up to Bulma, then away. He finished his last mouthful of food, picked up his desert plate and put it on Bulma's tray. Bulma looked at him, her eyes growing wide, but he stood and left without a word or glance back.

She watched him leave, feeling an uncontained smile split her face at his gesture, until she realized all her friends were staring at her. Bulma couldn't keep the blush from rising to her cheeks. “What?” she demanded, giving them a haughty look as if nothing were amiss.

“N-nothing,” Goku said, and laughed uneasily. Chi-Chi smirked knowingly at her. The others looked away and continued with their lunch. Bulma dismissed them, savoring her brownie for the remainder of lunch, each bite making her feel a little more hopeful that what she and Vegeta had could be mended.

When school ended that afternoon, Vegeta was waiting for her outside her classroom, his foot propped against the wall, hand shoved in his pocket, glowering at everyone who walked past. Bulma smiled as she walked up to him. “Good day?” she asked him cheerily.

“Ng,” he replied, and he turned to walk, not bothering to see if she followed. She hurried to catch up and they headed out of school together. The day was bright, the wind cool. As they left the school gate, something dark at the end of the street caught Bulma's eyes. She grabbed Vegeta's arm, her fingers digging in to his flesh, pulling him back. “Vegeta,” she whispered, her voice strained.

He glanced in the direction she was looking. A black car was parked down the street, the windows tinted black, the roof a fold-down, although it was up at the moment to hide whoever was inside. The car suddenly revved its engine and sped off, speeding around the corner and driving out of sight.

Vegeta scowled, not looking pleased.

“Sh-should we call the police?” Bulma asked.

“No point,” he replied, his tone flat. “The driver won't be trying anything for a while, not if I'm here.”

Bulma still clung to his arm, looking up at him with big, worried eyes. “How can you be sure?”

He looked at her, his expression blank. “Your attack was a warning. My being here let's them know it was received. You're safe for now. Trust me.”

Bulma returned his look, searching his hard eyes. He gave her so little, but Bulma found herself trusting him. If she'd told anyone else that she trusted Vegeta, they'd have called her crazy, but there was something about him that she found reliable, dependable even. She nodded, giving Vegeta a gentle smile as she relaxed against him. “Okay.”

Vegeta arched a brow, surprised, as if he too thought she was crazy to trust him. He gave her a baffled look, then pried his arm out of her grip. “C'mon,” he said, taking her hand and leading them down the street. Bulma nearly tripped over her own feet in shock, feeling his strong hand wrapped warmly about her own. She struggled to fight a blush creeping up her cheeks as she settled her fingers between his. Her palm stung a little, her wounds still raw, but she wasn't about to complain and risk Vegeta letting go of her hand. Bulma stared at him, trying to puzzle him out until he cast her an irritated, sidelong glance, letting her know she'd been caught. She ducked her head and they walked the rest of the way home, hand in hand.

Regrettably Vegeta let her hand go as soon as they arrived at the house, and he left to use the gym. She tried to protest, seeing as Vegeta was still injured, but he wouldn't listen to her. He was more determined than usual to work out, the appearance of the car perhaps spurning him on, and Bulma had no choice but to let him go if she didn't want an argument. She opted instead to help her mother cook a big, delicious meal to thank Vegeta for taking care of her.

He was still working out when she finished, so she prepared a plate and took it to his room, placing the food on his desk. Looking around the bland space she was once again reminded how impersonal his room was. Did Vegeta have no hobbies or interests outside of training? No photographs, no sentimental items? It made her sad to think about. She made herself comfortable on his bed, laying down and pulling out her phone to surf the net while she waited for him to be done.

A long while later, Bulma heard the sound of feet on the floor coming from the bathroom. Vegeta entered his room, spotting her instantly, his eyes raking over her before he looked away and headed to his closet to fetch some clothes. Bulma was having a hard time not staring at the sight of him, freshly showered, wearing nothing but a plain black t-shirt that clung nicely to his torso, and tight black boxer briefs that clung to… everything else below. She swallowed nervously and forced herself to look away, staring at her phone without seeing it, trying to beat back the burning in her cheeks, pretending not to be too interested in his state of undress, lest he bark at her to leave.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling out a pair of track pants and slipping into them. He didn't seem to care that he had an audience.

“Dinner,” Bulma indicated, keeping her eyes averted as she pointed to where his plate of food waited on his desk.

“And you had to stay to make sure I ate it?” he asked condescendingly as he went to investigate the food.

Bulma rolled over on the bed, looking at him now that it was safe to do so, stretching out her arms. “Nope. I just missed seeing your grumpy face.”

He scowled at her.

Bulma grinned. “That's the one.”

“Tch,” he huffed, then turned away, ignoring her as he started to eat. The food was probably cool at this point, but it was a lot of his favorites, and she'd made sure there was a lot of it, figuring Vegeta would be hungry after working out. It seemed her hunch was correct as Vegeta didn't bother with small talk, wolfing down the food as fast as he could swallow it. Bulma watched him, always amazed how much food he could pack away.

When he finished everything on the plate, he dropped it on the desk without so much as a thanks, and pulled out a book from his bag. He walked towards her and she scooted over on the bed to give him space. “Homework?” she asked.

Vegeta grunted as he sat down, putting a pillow against the wall to lean against. He opened his book and started reading, ignoring her. Bulma watched, waiting, but he didn't kicked her out.

She continued to watched him study for a few more minutes, his brow ever so slightly furrowed in concentration. Her eyes darted down when he struggled to turn a page one handed, and she wondered if his broken arm was having any negative impacts on his school work. She hoped his grades wouldn't start to fall because of his injuries. She looked at his broken arm, and it suddenly dawned on her how perfectly white his cast was.

Having an idea, she bounced up off the bed. “I'll be right back!” she announced, leaving the room quickly before he could tell her not to bother coming back. She grabbed some markers from her room and returned, but Vegeta hadn't moved. She sat next to him by his broken arm, putting a pillow in her lap to prop his arm onto.

“And just what do you think you're doing?” he asked, glaring at her as she manhandled his arm.

Bulma smiled sweetly. “Signing your cast.”

Vegeta continued to glare at her. She smiled back. He narrowed his eyes. She tilted her head cutely. He sighed and he looked away, going back to his text book. Bulma raised a brow, surprised; she was sure she was going to have to argue with him about it, but Vegeta was surprisingly obliging. Perhaps the idea of getting his cast signed didn't totally offend him, or maybe he was just happy she'd be distracted with his arm enough to leave him to his studies.

Whatever the reason, Bulma took advantage of his good mood and set about drawing on his cast.

After twenty minutes, he finally glanced up at her. Seeing what she held, he scowled fiercely, dropping his book. “What the- Why is there a pink marker in your hand?” he asked, his tone rising dangerously.

Bulma bashfully looked at him. “I'm uh… making you look less intimidating.”

Vegeta stared at her, aghast. He pushed her aside, climbing off the bed. “What did you do?” he demanded, hurrying over to the mirror to see what she'd drawn. She held her breath. “Bulma…. What the fuck?!” he asked incredulously, staring at his reflection. On his cast in big black letters was the word BADMAN on a huge, fluorescent pink background.

Bulma fingered her markers, suddenly doubting herself. “I thought it would be funny… You know, ironic. You said yourself everyone just assumes you're a bad guy, but when they see this, they'll be less likely to think that, because it looks so…”

“Ridiculous?!”

“Cute,” she pouted.

“Cute?! Do you want me to get beaten up?” he snapped back at her, glaring at his cast in horror.

Bulma scoffed. “At our school? By who? You're untouchable. I heard you beat up Nappa.”

“Who?”

“Nappa. Tall, brutish jock. Senior. Thinks he's all that,” Bulma described the older boy.

“Oh, him,” Vegeta said dismissively.

Bulma arched a brow. “So it's true?”

Vegeta smirked at her, looking smug and a little fiendish, and Bulma felt something hot coil in her belly. “I'd hardly call it much of a fight,” he gloated. “I've met his type before. They think they're strong because they're big, but they don't know the first thing about real fighting.”

She had to agree with his assessment. Nappa had often caused trouble at the school, bullying others because he was the strongest, and getting away with it because he was good at sports. Vegeta on the other hand was only average height, and at a glance didn't appear especially strong when he wore his baggy clothing to conceal his bruises. While Bulma knew better, most people that glanced at Vegeta probably didn't think he was much of a threat, especially to someone like Nappa, and that had been the senior's downfall. But now everyone at school knew Vegeta was bad news, his reputation proceeding him, and his intimidating personality and fighting skills more than made up for what he lacked in size.

“See? You don't need to worry then,” Bulma said confidently. “If you can handle Nappa, you can handle anyone at our school. Besides, it's permanent marker, so you'd best get used to it.”

“Fantastic,” Vegeta drawled sarcastically, taking one last glance at his cast in the mirror before he stomped back over to the bed. Bulma leapt out of his path, not wanting to incur his wrath further by getting in his way. As Vegeta settled on the bed to continue his studies, Bulma hesitantly picked up a sky blue marker.

“You've got to be kidding me,” he growled at her, seeing her from the corner of his eye.

“But I haven't even signed it personally yet,” she whined.

Vegeta snapped his book closed and glowered at her. “You've got one minute, then I want you out of here.”

“But-”

“Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six…”

Bulma screw up her nose, poking her tongue out at him before quickly getting to work. Vegeta stopped counting, but he continued to glare at her the whole time until Bulma felt herself turn pink under his intense scrutiny. Don't look up at him, don't look up at him, she told herself, knowing that he was only inches away, his glare unsettling her in more ways than one.

She finished signing his cast and grabbed up her markers with a few seconds left to spare. Vegeta turned his arm as best he could to look at her work. Get well soon, [heart] Bulma, it read. “You rushed me, so it's not very original,” Bulma mumbled self-consciously.

Vegeta frowned, grunting, before letting his arm drop to his side. “It's fine,” he said, his tone oddly subdued.

“Well… goodnight then.” Bulma got up and started to leave.

“Hey.”

“Mmm?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Vegeta was still glaring at his book. “Re-tend to your injuries before you go to bed.”

Bulma looked down at her hands and knees, then back at Vegeta, smiling. “Yeah, thanks, I will.”

He didn't meet her eyes. “…Night.”

“Goodnight, Vegeta.” She smiled at him, then limped her way back to her room.

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

Bulma was surprised when, the next morning, Vegeta came down to breakfast in a baggy short sleeved t-shirt, his decorated cast clearly on display. Mrs. Briefs made some comment about it being cute, and Vegeta grimaced, flashing Bulma an irritated look but otherwise saying nothing. He didn't even put a jacket on when they left for school to cover up his cast. She was a little sad when he didn't take her hand, but she was too baffled that he wasn't hiding his cast to feel too hurt by it.

Once at school, the whole student body stared at his black and pink `BADMAN', odd glances and hushed whispers following in his wake. He walked past everyone, ignoring them all like he usually did, apparently unaffected by the attention.

At lunch in the cafeteria, her friends were also staring at Vegeta, flashing looks at his cast, him, and Bulma while they pretended not to. Goku, running late, finally joined the table, his lunch tray in his hands. He took one look at Vegeta before blurting out, “Oh cool, are we finally signing Vegeta's cast? I want in!”

Vegeta nearly choked on his food. “Like hell.”

The whole table fell silent. Until now, no one besides Bulma had addressed Vegeta directly at lunch, and in turn he hadn't acknowledge them. It had been an unspoken understanding that Goku had now broken, and no one quite knew how to respond.

Except Goku, who was oblivious to the situation. “Aw, c'mon Vegeta,” he wheedled. “We're on the same team, right? We even brought you a card. You let Bulma sign your cast. Just let me sign something small, okay? It won't take a minute.”

“Fuck off, you over grown clown,” Vegeta snapped back.

Bulma stepped on Vegeta's foot under the table. He gritted his teeth and glared at her.

“You could let him sign it, couldn't you?” she asked quietly as everyone watched in fascinated horror, fearing for her sanity. “What'd it hurt? It'll only take a second.”

Vegeta glowered at her, and for a tense moment it seemed like an argument might ensue. Then Vegeta looked away from her with a angry huff. “Tch, whatever. Just make it quick.”

Bulma beamed at him. The others at the table stared with wide eyes and open mouths, stunned that Vegeta had given in. Goku laughed happily. “Alright!” he said and fished around in his backpack for a marker. “It always cheered me up when I saw what my friends had written me when I broke a bone,” he said conversationally, not the least concerned by Vegeta's foul temper.

Vegeta glowered at Goku the whole time. When Goku was done signing, Chi-Chi stood up, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. “I'm next!” she declared, and she butted her way in before Vegeta could tell her otherwise. Vegeta stared at her, dumbfounded as she wrote a get well message. Chi-Chi then threw the marker to Tien. “You're up,” she said with a smile, and Tien was forced to sign. And that's how, one by one, all the members of the fight crew signed Vegeta's cast, excluding Yamcha who wasn't present.

Bulma was utterly tickled, overjoyed to see her friends and Vegeta finally interacting. It would be good for Vegeta to have some camaraderie at school outside of her own company.

Later that evening in the gym, Piccolo allowed Vegeta to join some of the easier exercises that wouldn't strain his injuries, and Bulma was at last able to watch him in action. Vegeta went through one of the katas with her friends. Despite his cast and mending ribs, he moved smoothly, powerfully, with practiced ease. It was almost hypnotic, and a lot impressive. She could see the tension in his muscles, the restrained power that bristled just under the surface as he went through each motion, all his focus on his body and movements, or so she thought until he finished the kata and glanced at her, as if knowing she'd been watching him the whole time. She blushed and gave him a sheepish wave. He looked away, but before he did, she caught the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You were really good,” she complimented him as they walked home.

“Tch, obviously,” he replied. “You're only used to watching those buffoons. Now you'll finally get to see what a real fighter looks like.”

Bulma resisted rolling her eyes. She had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing him train. If he was cocky, he had a right to be, damn him.

When they got home it was time for them to work on their project for their advanced class. They sat in her room at her floor table, Bulma looking in a book while Vegeta played with the cat who had snuck in, using his cast as a cat toy.

“You think you're real fucking clever, don't you,” Vegeta grouched at her, staring at the new signatures on his cast as Scratch clung to it, biting the cast ineffectually.

“About what?” Bulma asked innocently, watching him wrestle the cat.

“Don't play coy,” Vegeta warned her. “You think I'm going to buddy up with your friends because they signed my cast? Tch, get real.”

Bulma shrugged. “Who knows what goes on in my beautiful, genius mind.”

“Nothing about covering up, that's for sure,” Vegeta grouched, eyeing her blue tube top and white booty shorts, her clothing revealing far more skin than it covered.

Bulma arched a brow. “Now who's the prude?” she countered.

“It's bad manners,” he grouched, looking away. “Like waving a steak in front of a starving man.”

Bulma felt mixed emotions about being likened to a steak. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, huffing. “Well I'm not the one denying you your steak,” she said haughtily.

Vegeta glowered at her, but he didn't look terribly intimidating with a cat hanging off his arm. “We've been over this, Bulma. Nothing can happen between us. There's too much at stake.”

Bulma sighed, resting her chin in her hand and looking at him with a pout. “I don't know why you're so stuck on that. So what if we date? If you're worried about the relationship going sour, this house is so big you could hide from me indefinitely in a worst case scenario.”

Vegeta clenched his fist. “I'm not worried about that, you idiot, and if that's your idea of `worst case', you're horribly naive. Besides, it's our parents that's the issue.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Don't you think they had their suspicions about us when they agreed to let you stay here?”

Vegeta sneered. “Exactly. Why do you think my father warned me off you? Perhaps if you'd been more modest when he met you, we wouldn't be in this mess!”

“Modest?!” Bulma replied back, her voice rising. “I was dressed head to toe in the hospital, and we were playing chess when he met me. How much more modest could I be?”

“Well… more, clearly, because my dad caught on pretty quick, didn't he?”

Bulma huffed, feeling her temper rise. “Or maybe, because he seems like a smart guy, he just recognized that I'm an attractive girl your age and that you wouldn't be able to control yourself around me!”

“Oh, please,” Vegeta scoffed.

Bulma bristled at his quick dismissal of her proposition. “Ugh, you're such an asshole,” she yelled at him, infuriated at his condescending tone. “I can't believe I like you!” She stood up, fuming, and stormed over to her cupboard. She started to pull off her tube top, wriggling angrily as she struggled to get the tight garment off.

“Wh… what are you doing?” Vegeta asked, his voice rising.

“Changing into something more modest for His Highness, Prince Vegeta!” she spat back, her voice muffled as she pulled the top over her head, now only wearing a strapless bra.

“Jesus Christ, Bulma, I'm right here!”

Bulma threw her top aside and put a hand on her hip, glaring at him. “What's wrong? You were just bragging a moment ago that you could control yourself around me, so what's the big deal?”

“Put that back on before someone comes in and gets the wrong idea, for fucks sake,” Vegeta snapped. He dislodged Scratch from his arm and stood up, grabbing her tossed aside top and approaching her with it.

Bulma stuck her nose up. “I don't like that shirt anymore, it's not modest enough.”

“Bulma,” Vegeta growled warningly. “Put your goddamn. Arms. Up. Now.”

Bulma glared at him, but his glare back was far more intimidating. She gave in with an exaggerated sigh, raising her arms above her head.

He pulled the blue tube top down over her arms, but when he reached her shoulders he started to struggle, having only one good arm to work with. He had to tug the shirt inch by inch over her, stretching the tight material to its limit.

“Goddamnit… Fuck, Bulma, this thing is too tight,” he complained, blushing furiously as he fought to get it over her bust without groping her.

Bulma's cheeks were also red as he awkwardly manhandled her. “It's supposed to be tight, jackass, or it'd just fall down… And you're doing it wrong, you need both hands to stretch it out evenly to get it on.”

“Tch! I don't have that luxury do I? Just… give me a second,” he complained, tugging uselessly.

“I hope you're better at taking clothes off than putting them on,” she grumbled, then instantly regretted her words when he gave her a furious, incredulous look. She blushed and pressed her lips together, looking away.

Vegeta tugged hard on the fabric, still trying to pull it into place. He gave it a particularly vicious yank which forced the air out of her lungs. “Ah~!” she cried out, her voice embarrassingly breathy. She put her hand over her mouth, sure her face was turning redder than a firetruck. This was getting ridiculous, she sounded like a porn star, and being half undressed in front of him wasn't helping the issue. She had to stop him before she humiliated herself any further. “V-Vegeta, just let me-”

“No, I can do this,” he said stubbornly, giving the shirt another tug as if by getting her dressed he could dissolve the awfully compromising situation.

“Ah~n!” Bulma whimpered and staggered forward, catching herself on his chest. His tugging had caused her bra to slip, rubbing against her nipples, nearly popping her bust out of her top. She kept her head lowered, humiliated at the sounds she was making. He froze, his chest rising and falling hard beneath her hands.

“Stop making such embarrassing sounds!” he gritted out.

Bulma pressed a hand to her face, mortified. “I can't help it when you're jerking me around like that, i-idiot!” She sucked in a breath to try and calm herself, still leaning against him, her half-exposed chest pressing against him. She reached up to push his hand away. “Vegeta, just-”

He grabbed her wrist and shoved it against the wall, leaning in to crush his hot mouth to hers. He pressed his weight against her, trapping her beneath his broad chest, kissing her deeply, demanding her submission. Bulma moaned, her eyelids fluttering shut, willingly giving in, melting between him and the wall. The kiss went on for what felt like a lifetime, his mouth moving against hers, a starving man ravaging his first steak in weeks. His hard thigh pushed between her legs, grinding against her. Even the fingers of his broken arm grabbed at her waist, pinning her hip to the wall. But then all too soon he broke away, panting against her bruised lips.

“…. Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his brow against her shoulder, hunching over her as he berated himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Bulma was glad he was weighted against her because she wasn't certain she'd be able to stand of her own volition. “Are those good expletives, or…?” she asked uncertainly.

“What did you do to me, Bulma?” he whispered, his voice so hoarse she could barely make out his words. She was too stunned to reply, her lips still tingling, her breath stolen from her, the taste of him still on her tongue.

“I've never had problems with self control before,” he gritted out. “Then you come along and suddenly I'm so damned frustrated I feel as though I could blow up half a city with what I'm suppressing.”

Bulma's mouth curled up into a smile, and she gave a soft, airy laugh, flattered and amused at his confession. She boldly curled her finger into the belt loop on his trousers, tugging him in closer. “Only half a city?” she asked coyly.

Vegeta made a frustrated sound, almost a growl that sent a thrill of pleasure right between her thighs. He lifted his head, his arm resting by the side of her face, his bicep bulging, still trapping her wrist to the wall. He stared right at her, his eyes dark, sparking with something hungry and untamed, a wildness desperate to be released, thrashing to be free and have at her. Bulma felt her pulse pick up at the sight of it, losing herself in his eyes, and she knew in that moment that he could have asked anything of her, and she'd have willing given it.

Then the intensity in Vegeta's gaze clouded over, his eyes flickering with anguish and he looked away. “I'm going to work out,” he announced to her dismay.

“But… you were just at practice,” she protested.

Vegeta grunted. “Apparently I still have energy to burn,” he replied dryly, then looked back at her with frustration. “And I need to take a long, cold shower.”

“Don't,” she begged softly, leaning in to kiss his jaw.

Vegeta clenched his teeth, resisting. “Life's unfair, Bulma. Get used to it.”

“Life isn't unfair. Leaving me here like this is unfair,” she pouted.

“Life is very unfair for those of us living in the real world, not living like some spoilt princess who can get her way just by fluttering her eyelashes,” Vegeta snapped back.

Bulma scowled at him. “The princess life isn't all it's cracked up to be, I'll have you know. Besides, it's been treating you pretty well lately.”

“Tch, I'm leaving,” Vegeta said and he stepped back, letting her go. Bulma instantly felt the loss, staggering forward. She was aching, throbbing, and her wrist hurt from where he'd been pinning her. She rubbed it and noticed his eyes glance at her hand, lingering to see if he'd unintentionally hurt her.

She gave him a gentle smile. “Don't worry, nothing's broken.”

His gaze snapped up to hers. “Did I ask?”

“Just with your eyes,” Bulma said smugly. Vegeta sneered and started to storm out. “Wait,” Bulma stopped him, her heart sinking. “Are you really just going to leave? What about us?”

Vegeta gave her a long, hard stare. “What `us'?”

Bulma swallowed, trying not to let his words sting. “Don't even try to pretend there's nothing between us after you just molested me.”

Vegeta scowled and looked away, color rising to his cheeks. “It won't happen again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?” Bulma pressed, her hand clenching over her stomach anxiously.

Vegeta made a frustrated sound. “Damnit, Bulma, how many times do we have to go over this? I won't disobey my father.”

“Vegeta-”

“No more, woman. Leave me be,” Vegeta snapped and he stormed out of the room. Bulma didn't chase after him. She could still feel the ghost of his lips crushed against her own. She listened to him storm away to his own room, slamming the door behind him.

She sadly pulled her top into place and sat down on a cushion, staring at the spot Vegeta had been sitting in, where Scratch now cleaned his paws.

She frowned, scheming. Time, she decided, would be her friend. If Vegeta wanted to play the dutiful son, then so be it. He obviously needed time to get used to his new home and situation. Hopefully, along the way, he would realize his father was being overly protective; denying them wasn't worth the agony he was putting himself and Bulma through. And if he didn't figure that out on his own, well…sooner or later, Vegeta was going to learn that no one could out-stubborn Bulma Briefs.

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

AN:

Thanks ever so much for all the lovely reviews, you can't imagine how much joy it brings to get them and how encouraging it is to keep writing to know that people are enjoying the story! So as always, I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter! :)

I added a couple snippets/scenes to this chapter after my initial first draft, so it's quite a bit longer than I'd initially planned. You're welcome :P

Next chapter to be up ASAP!