Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Friends ❯ 14 - the party ( Chapter 14 )

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

Ch.14 - the Party

Bulma carefully applied her lipstick, ignoring the weight of the dark gaze being shot her way from the doorway.

“What's with all this?” Vegeta demanded, arms folded in front of his chest, his eyes looking her up and down with a disapproving scowl on his face. He was wearing a thin tee and sweats, work out clothes, the t-shirt showing off the fruits of his labor. He was looking ripped, but Bulma couldn't stare or she'd mess up her make up.

“The party is today, remember?” Bulma reminded him, pressing her lips together and examining her handiwork in the full length mirror.

“How could I forget? It's all you've been talking about all damn week,” Vegeta grouched. “And I've only received 84 messages from your stupid little group chat about it.”

Bulma hid a smirk, trying not to imagine Vegeta's growing annoyance at receiving so many messages. She smiled at her reflection in satisfaction, happy with her appearance, smoothing down the bright red dress she wore that hugged her every curve. She'd done her best the last few weeks to dress modestly for Vegeta (or at least modest by her standards), but her parents were gone now, and she was throwing a party. Bulma wanted to dress up and go wild, and so she'd selected one of the prettiest and sexiest dresses she owned. “How do I look?” she asked, turning to Vegeta with a brilliant smile, holding her breath for his response.

He scowled at her. “I thought it was just your friends coming over.”

Bulma nodded. “It is. And they're your friends too, you know.”

“Hardly,” Vegeta sneered. “So why are you making such an effort for those guys?”

Bulma put a hand on her hip, growing annoyed with Vegeta's attitude. Had she really expected him to compliment her? “Because I want to. Girls like to be pretty sometimes, Vegeta,” she said, her tone a little scathing. She turned away from him in frustration, re-examine herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair. “And Yamcha's going to be here,” she added as an afterthought. “I want him to be a little bit sorry about what he's lost.”

Vegeta's lip curled up into a sneer as it usually did with the mention of Yamcha. “You invited that loser?”

“I invited the group,” Bulma corrected him. “He's part of the group. I'm not going to make our friends choose sides because Yamcha fucked things up.”

“Tch,” Vegeta spat, not looking pleased, but he chose not to argue the point any further.

Bulma watched him in the mirror. Vegeta's body was tense, his face drawn in its usual scowl. She wondered what was going on in that head of his. Was he jealous, even just a little? Bulma pretended to fuss with her hair. “You'll be attending the party, won't you?” she asked innocently.

“Like hell.”

Bulma felt her stomach plummet, and she turned around. “What? Why not? I've made lots of food, and there'll be drinks too.”

“I don't drink,” he replied caustically. “I try to avoid things that inhibit my reflexes and awareness. Besides, since when do you drink?”

Bulma shrugged. “It's a party, we need to break some rules. Anyway, it'll be fun. We can hang out, eat, maybe play some games and sing or dance.”

“You're joking,” Vegeta gritted out. “Do I look like the kind of person who'd enjoy any of that? What could possibly be in it for me?”

Bulma pouted, feeling her heart sink. “I'll be there.”

Vegeta opened his mouth, then shut it, his lip curling with annoyance, but he said nothing. Bulma sensed his hesitation. She approached him, hoping he found her as alluring in her dress as she imagined. She reached out and took his hand in hers, running her fingers against his rough palm. “Please? I want you to be there.”

Vegeta frowned, reluctant to be swayed, thinning his lips. “I have to train.”

“All night?” Bulma pressed demurely.

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, his expression weakening. “…Perhaps I can take a break and join you later,” he finally relented.

Bulma felt an elated smile spread on her face. “Yes, you should!”

“I'm not making any promises,” Vegeta grumbled, looking displeased with himself.

Bulma nodded, smiling brightly, knowing it was as good an answer as she was going to get. She gave Vegeta's hand an encouraging squeeze, then let it go. “Alright, you should train. The sooner you start, the sooner you'll be finished, right? And I have to finish getting the house ready,” she said, her mind already turning back to playing hostess. “We're going to be hanging out in the lounge room next the kitchen. Join us when you're able.”

“Hmf,” Vegeta grumbled and turned on his heels, heading off to his workout.

Bulma also moved, needing to put in place the finishing touches for the party. Her parents had left earlier in the week, so true to her word, Bulma had fixed the gym equipment for Vegeta and invited the gang over to have a party that Saturday. She'd spent all day cooking, cleaning and organizing the large living space with a tv, and a music, karaoke and game system. She made sure there was enough ice and drinks in the refrigerator, and she brought out some alcohol from her parents' stash. Vegeta had been right, she didn't usually participate in underaged drinking, but she was feeling rebellious and if her mother was going to okay the party, then Bulma had to find some other way to break some rules. Plus, it might provide her with just the courage she needed to test her relationship with Vegeta.

As evening fell, her friends started to arrive.

“Hey Bulma! Raditz is visiting, is it okay if he joins?” Goku asked. Bulma agreed, which was lucky since Raditz already with him.

“Bulma!” the tall, wild looking young man declared, beaming at her handsomely. Raditz was big, powerfully built and dressed in jeans and a varsity jacket, with a long, shaggy mane of hair. “You look all grown up!” he exclaimed, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek.

“Thanks,” she blushed at his fussing. “Raditz, my gosh, your hair is out of control.”

Raditz laughed, ruffling his hair. “Yeah, yeah, everyone says I should get it cut, but I kind of like it. Enough about me though, look at you! Damn, girl, Yamcha's a lucky man.”

Goku laughed awkwardly. Bulma made a face. “Not anymore. We broke up.”

“Really? Well, too bad for him then, eh?” Raditz replied, not sounding the least broken up by the news as they headed inside. “So, tell me everything that's been going on. How many PHDs do you have now?”

They laughed and talked, nibbling on snacks as everyone else turned up. Soon there was music playing and drinks were being passed around, both soft and hard. Yamcha arrived. He awkwardly complimented her attire, then quickly excused himself to a corner of the room to hang out with the guys.

After a couple hours had gone by, Vegeta walked passed the living space in his gym clothes, sweaty from working out. He didn't even glance in, continuing on his way. Bulma jumped to her feet and ran after him.

“Vegeta! Are you joining us?” she asked excitedly, holding a cocktail in her hand, her face flushed from laughter and her drink.

Vegeta barely glanced at her as he kept walking. “Just getting a drink,” he said flatly.

“But there're free drinks in the gym,” she said, baffled that he'd come all this way for refreshments.

“Those aren't cold.”

Bulma said nothing else, suspecting it was an excuse for him to check up on the party. When they reached the kitchen, Bulma leaned against the counter, watching as Vegeta dug around in the fridge for a cold bottle of water. He found one and opened the cap, swallowing down half the bottle in one go. Bulma watching him as he tilted his head back, his throat bobbing greedily with each gulp. He then dumped the rest of the water on his head to cool off.

“Hey! Not in the kitchen!” Bulma protested. Vegeta ignored her. He threw the empty bottle aside and walked off. Bulma hurried after him. “Hey! Where are you going?” she protested. He hadn't even looked at her.

“Back to the gym.”

“But… what about the party?” she whined. Was he really not going to join?

“Tch, you seem to be having enough fun without me there.”

“Vegeta!” Bulma complained. He didn't listen to her, heading down the hall towards the gym. Bulma came to a stop, watching him leave. She didn't know if she felt more hurt and annoyed. This wasn't going at all to her plans. Settling on annoyed, Bulma finally turned on her heel and headed back to the party.

“Top up?” Raditz asked her as she returned, waggling a bottle of alcohol at her enticingly.

“Please,” Bulma agreed, and handed him her cup to refill.

“Who was that?” he asked, nodding towards the doorway where Vegeta had stomped passed.

“That's Vegeta, who I told you about,” Goku piped in.

“The new MMA fighter who beat you? That little guy beat you?” Radtiz asked incredulous.

Goku nodded, smiling. “Yep, that's the one.”

“He's a tool,” Yamcha added from the corner of the room.

Bulma glared at him. “He is not. He's just not… very sociable,” she explained awkwardly to Raditz.

“He came to your party just to use your gym?”

Bulma blushed. “Uh, no. He lives here now.”

Raditz raised a brow, surprised by the news, but he played it cool. “Huh.” He handed her back her drink, filled to the brim with liquor and juice. “Well, enough about that. Bulma, have I told you about the time I single-handedly snuck into the principal's office and changed all his photos to pictures of students mooning him?”

“What? No!” Bulma laughed, sipping her drink and listening raptly as Raditz entertained her with his wild antics. She soon forgot all about Vegeta's unsociableness as the night progressed. Even Yamcha's presence didn't diminish her fun, and he soon had to leave, having a part time job he had to get up early for the next day. Bulma relaxed as the good food, company, karaoke, and drinks quickly put her in bettr spirits. She sang her heart out, talked and listened to her friends, and all the while Raditz ensured her drink didn't go empty for long.

A couple more hours later she was sitting in Raditz's lap, feeling happily buzzed and giggling merrily as Raditz and Krillin poorly sang a duet together, Raditz putting on a falsetto to sing the female lines. Raditz had a hand casually looped around her waist, his fingers lazily stroking her side, and Bulma felt wonderfully buzzed. She thought nothing of Raditz's familiarity until she looked up from the rim of her cocktail and saw Vegeta standing in the doorway, giving Raditz a look that could have stripped the flesh off a rhino.

“Vegeta!” she cried out, perhaps a little too loudly, overjoyed to see him. Vegeta didn't flinch as she pushed off Raditz, nearly spilling her drink as she clumsily made her way towards him. Vegeta was standing there freshly showered, wearing fitted black jeans and a midnight blue shirt that was stretched appealing over his muscled torso. He looked like a wet dream brought to life. Bulma nearly fell into him when she reached the door, unsteady on her heels. “Did you finish with the gym?” she asked hopefully.

Vegeta's narrowed gaze lingered heavily on Raditz, before sliding over to make eye contact with her. His gaze took in her too bright eyes, her rosy cheeks and her easy smile. He saw the glass in her hand and frowned. “How many of those have you had?” he asked disapprovingly.

Bulma looked at her drink and tried to recall. “Oh, um, just a few,” she replied uncertainly. She hadn't really been keeping track, her cup having been topped up on several occasions so it was difficult to say. “Come, sit down,” she eagerly offered, not wanting him to leave again. She put her hand on his forearm, more for balance than anything else.

Vegeta reluctantly unfolded his arms and followed her over to the sofa, back towards Raditz who was watching them curiously. Vegeta helped her keep her balance, but at the last minute when she was about to sit next to Raditz, Vegeta shoved her to the side, pushing her down to sit at the end of the couch, placing himself in the middle. She sat heavily, but didn't complain when she found that being nestled between Vegeta and the armrest was pretty comfy.

Raditz gave Vegeta an uncertain look. “You want a drink, man?” he offered, his voice hesitant, trying to sound friendly.

Vegeta just glared at him, eyes narrowed. Raditz looked around for help. Nearby, Goku gave his usual awkward, high-pitched laugh. “Uh, Raditz, Vegeta,” he introduced. “Vegeta doesn't say a lot, so uh, don't take it personally.”

Vegeta flashed Goku a hateful look, then turned his back on them both, looking instead at Bulma. “Where's the food?” he demanded. “You said there would be food.”

Bulma looked around but all she saw were empty plates, only a few bowls of chips remaining. “Oh, I guess it all got eaten already. I can get you some more,” she offered. She tried standing up, but found her legs suddenly wobbly, and the room started spinning. She stumbled, spilling her drink as she reached out to gain her balance. She started falling, but something stopped her, and she looked down to find Vegeta's hands on her waist. She smiled at him gratefully. He glared back at her, his expression annoyed.

“You're drunk,” he said, the words distasteful to him.

Bulma blushed and collapsed in Vegeta's lap, finding that standing wasn't the best option for her at the moment. “A little,” she confessed sheepishly.

Vegeta scowled at her. “Must you?” he asked, indicating his lap. “There's a perfectly good couch to sit on.”

Bulma stuck out her bottom lip, looking up at him from under her long lashes. “But this is more comfy,” she pleaded.

“Says you.”

“Exactly,” Bulma smirked. Feeling bold, and before he could argue with her further, Bulma tucked her head under Vegeta's chin, curling up against him. He felt incredibly warm even through his shirt, and Bulma hummed in pleasure, curling against him like a cat soaking in a hot spot in the sun.

“Tch.” He relented, and took her glass from her hands, putting it safely out of her reach.

“Er, if you're not comfortable, there's room over here,” Raditz suggested, indicating the vacant spot next to him on the couch.

Before Bulma could reply she felt Vegeta's hand wrap around her, resting on her knees to pull her body tighter in against him. “She's comfortable where she is,” he growled back, his tone icy.

Raditz held up his hands in placation, and sensing he wasn't welcome, turned around to engage someone else in conversation, leaving Vegeta and Bulma to themselves. Bulma could feel Vegeta relax beneath her, and she tried to hold back a smile. Although she felt bad for Raditz, it was nice to have Vegeta finally show some kind of possessiveness over her. Perhaps all wasn't so hopeless between them after all.

“Sorry about the food,” she said softly, wriggling in closer against him. To her delight, she felt Vegeta's thumb start to stroke her knee, caressing her skin. Her heart fluttered wildly, her legs breaking out in goosebumps, and she was glad he couldn't see the blush that burned her cheeks.

“You'll owe me dinner later, when you've sobered up and are capable of performing proper motor skills.”

Bulma huffed, and for his rude comment dug her finger into his side, or at least tried to. Vegeta grabbed her wrist before she could jab him, and placed her hand back in her lap. Bulma pouted. “You're no fun.”

“I get that a lot,” he said as he reached for a bowl of chips to snack on. She felt his muscles flex as he moved, and as he settled back with his bowl, Bulma let her hand run up his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt.

“You look really nice,” she complimented, fascinated by his shirt, and the hard muscles beneath it.

“You seemed to think it was important to dress up,” Vegeta grumbled back, keeping his voice low so that only she could hear him. The effect made his words came out in a soft rumble, his chest vibrating against her cheek. Bulma buried her nose in the crook of the V in his shirt. Vegeta even smelt good, of soap and deodorant, fresh and masculine. She felt a contented, bubbling warmness build inside her. This all felt like a dream. After being so estranged from Vegeta these past few weeks, Bulma could hardly believe she was curled up comfortably on his lap, his arm holding her protectively. She was enjoying being cradled against Vegeta far more than she had any right to be, but she was too happy, or perhaps too drunk, to care about the implications. All she knew was that she would cherish this moment forever.

The karaoke song that was playing ended, and in the sudden quiet Chi-Chi's giggling was easy to discern. Bulma's gaze slipped over to where Goku and Chi-Chi had secreted themselves on a bean bag in a corner of the room, talking and cuddling intimately. They looked so cute together. Bulma wondered what kind of picture she and Vegeta were painting right now. Vegeta certainly wouldn't be smiling, and he wasn't whispering sweet nothings in her ear; but if he kept petting her knee and murmuring in his deep, growling voice, Bulma wasn't sure she was going to be able to keep things PG-13 much longer.

No one else wanted to sing karaoke, so a game was started instead and controllers were passed around to play a competitive shooter. Bulma perked up. “Oh, you like games,” she said to Vegeta, recalling all the times he'd played his gameboy.

“Mm,” he replied noncommittally, but Raditz must have heard. He handed over a controller.

“Goku says you're pretty good at fighting. Let's see if that translates well into the digital world too.”

Vegeta scowled at Raditz but took the controller, unable to let the challenge go unanswered. He shifted his position to get a better view of the tv screen. Bulma remained curled in his lap, and since he didn't tell her to get off, she took it as permission to remain where she was. Vegeta held the controller in front of her, his arms either side of her body, trapping her in his embrace.

Bulma smiled and watched them game for a while, but being cuddled against Vegeta's warm chest, coupled with the late hour and the alcohol in her system was making her sleepy, and Bulma soon drifted off to the sounds of her friends trying to kill each other on the screen, shielded within Vegeta's arms.

She woke up a while later, something jostling her. “Nooo, I want to stay with Vegeta,” she mumbled sleepily. She thought she heard someone snicker.

She was hoisted up into strong arms. “I'm taking her to bed,” she heard Vegeta say to someone, and she buried her face against his neck, not ready to wake up yet. Vegeta carried her out of the party, down the corridor towards the stair case to their rooms.

“Are you awake?” he asked her when they were away from the living area.

“Mm, no…” she replied sleepily.

Vegeta chuckled. Surprised by the sound, Bulma blinked open her eyes and looked up at him. He looked down at her, his expression wry. “You're an extreme pain in the ass, you know that?”

Bulma pouted and buried her face once more. “No,” she denied, curling her fingers in his shirt. “I'm adorable.”

“Ha!” He scoffed.

Bulma pouted harder, feeling petulant. “You're supposed to agree.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Mm… Sleepy…”

“Not sick?”

“No.”

“Dizzy?”

Bulma hesitated, then nodded.

Vegeta didn't ask anymore questions, but when they reached the stair case he kept walking. Bulma opened an eye to check their whereabouts, then closed it. “Where are we going?”

“To get you a sports drink,” Vegeta told her. “You'll need the electrolytes if you don't want to wake up sick.”

“Oh.” That he was being so considerate made her heart hurt, but in a nice way. She turned her head to hide her smile in his shirt. “Thanks, Vegeta.”

He huffed but said nothing more. Feeling audacious, Bulma pressed her face into his throat, nuzzling him. It felt so good to be close to him, to be touching him, feeling him, having him hold her so securely. She felt as though she was drugged, not just on alcohol, but on him.

“Cut that out,” he snapped at her, his voice strained, agitated by her canoodling.

Bulma smiled wickedly against him. “No,” she purred, her voice coming out more breathy than she had anticipated. She continued to rub her face against him, like a cat marking its territory, relishing the way his hands tightened on her, and how she felt his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Bulma, I will drop you,” he warned.

“No you won't,” she replied smugly. Heady on alcohol and coming apart at his nearness as if his very presence was frying away any good sense that she had, Bulma parted her lips and lightly bit his neck.

“Jesus, Bulma!” He exclaimed, and he dropped her.

Bulma yelped in alarm, but she fell only a couple inches, her bottom thudding hard onto a surface below. Startled, she looked around and saw they were in the gym; Vegeta had dropped her on a table near the refrigerators. He was rubbing his neck and scowling viciously at her.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded.

Bulma bit her lip, trying to look contrite, but she knew she was failing, unable to stop smiling. Vegeta was cute when flustered. “Sorry, I couldn't help it,” she said, looking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. She could hardly believe how daring she was being, but something about the night was making her feel wild, and Vegeta was reacting too perfectly that she couldn't help herself from wanting to push his buttons further.

He scowled harder, and Bulma thought that she saw him blushing. “Do I need to gag you?” he asked, incredulous.

Bulma gave him a wicked, suggestive smile. “With what?”

Vegeta's brows rose wide, and for a moment he was speechless. “…Jesus Christ, Bulma!” he finally spluttered out, furious at her lewdness.

Bulma laughed. She stretched her arms up and then flopped back on the table, sprawling out. She giggled as she stared up at the ceiling, watching the room spin. This was too much fun!

She heard him make an agitated sound and stomp off. A moment later something heavy was thrown onto her stomach. “Ow!”

“Drink.”

Bulma grabbed the heavy object on her belly and clumsily sat up. It was a sports drink. She tried to open the tight lid, but it wouldn't give.

Vegeta watched her struggle for a few seconds before rolling his eyes. He snatched the bottle away, breaking the seal on the bottle.

“I almost had that,” Bulma pouted.

“Sure you did. How are you so weak when all your friends are fighters, and you've a goddamn gym in your house?” he asked, giving her back the open bottle.

Bulma shrugged and took a ginger sip of the drink. “I'm full of mysteries.”

Vegeta scoffed, folding his arms. “Full of something.” He watched her nurse the drink. “More,” he insisted.

Bulma made a face. “I'm not thirsty.”

“So I guess you're fine puking later tonight and feeling miserable all tomorrow,” he asked her dryly.

Bulma sighed and drank more of the sports drink. She swung her legs back and forth under the table, watching Vegeta openly like a cat watching bobbing string, waiting to pounce. Vegeta really looked amazing; he was all dark, brooding male, swathed in deep colors that only highlighted his physique and raw, aggressive power. Bulma felt her heart accelerate just at the sight of him, a sight she greedily drank up as she sipped her drink.

He tolerated her staring for only so long. “What?” he snapped.

Bulma smiled coyly. “You look really nice.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You've said that already.”

Bulma shrugged. “Because it's true. You look good enough to eat,” she teased, making a joke about her bite earlier. Vegeta didn't look amused so she tried a different approach. “Did you dress up for me?”

Vegeta frowned at her. “What?”

She bit her lip, still feeling bold, flirty, knowing it was due to the alcohol, but also not caring. She'd been looking forward to this party all week, hoping, daring for a moment just like this where they could be alone, where she might tempt Vegeta to open up to her, to be honest with her and with himself about how he felt. “I dressed up for you. Do you like it?” she asked hopefully, feeling herself blush and she looked away, suddenly shy. “Maybe I should have worn blue? That's your favorite color, isn't it?”

Vegeta scowled at her, giving her a mistrustful glare. “I thought you were trying to impress your ex tonight?”

Bulma shrugged and waved her hand dismissively. “That was just an added bonus.” She looked up at him from under her long, pale lashes. “But that doesn't answer my question. Do you think I look pretty?”

Vegeta shifted his weight and glanced away, looking uncomfortable. “The alcohol is making you talk more nonsense than usual.”

His cold words were a slap in the face. Bulma could feel her confidence start to crumble. She swallowed and looked down at her feet. She saw that she'd lost her shoes somewhere. “Can't you even pay me one compliment?” she asked, whispering down at her sad, bare feet.

She didn't think Vegeta had even heard her. Then suddenly he braced his arms either side of her on the table, and he bent down to look at her eye to eye, their brows almost touching. Bulma couldn't move, feeling like a deer in headlights, trapped by Vegeta's dark, piercing glare.

“Bulma. You're always pretty. When you're dressed up. When you're lounging around. When you first wake up and your hair is a mess or when you're stuffing your face. Even when you're screaming like a banshee or being an entitled brat, which is most of the time. You're always pretty. That's the goddamn problem.”

Bulma held her breath, stunned by his confession. It took a while for his words to sink in, but when they did, she felt something hot swell in her chest, ready to burst. Vegeta was so close, his breath ghosted her lips, his eyes burning into hers with a mix of emotions that were hard to read, but she was sure desire was one of them. Compelled, Bulma leaned in, closing her eyes, and let her mouth brush against his.

For a moment he responded, kissing her back. Then Vegeta broke the kiss with a hiss of frustration. “No, fuck, you're drunk,” he swore, his voice hoarse. Bulma noticed his muscles bunch beneath his sleeves, his fingers gripping the table so tightly his knuckles were white. He was struggling to restrain himself.

“I'm just tipsy,” she insisted, feeling her chance slipping away. She put her hand on his bicep and she could feel how stiff he was. He looked up at her, and her eyes widened when she saw the anger flash in his eyes.

“You're a goddamn drunken flirt,” Vegeta growled, glaring at her furiously.

She looked at him with big eyes. “…For you.”

“And Raditz,” Vegeta spat back. “And Yamcha.”

Bulma was surprised by the accusations, by the strength of his resentment. “You sound awfully jealous.”

“And you sound awfully smug,” he snapped back. “Was that your plan? To try and make me jealous tonight, parading about in front of all your male friends?”

Bulma tried not to rise to the bait, suspecting Vegeta was only egging her into an argument to distract her from what they'd almost done. She stuck her nose up. “I was trying to get you to notice me, you jerk.”

Vegeta huffed, clenching his hands in agitation. “When do I not? You're everywhere I fucking turn. I can't get away from you!”

Bulma lowered her head. She toyed with Vegeta's rolled up shirt sleeve. “Gee, you make a girl feel real special,” she said in a small voice.

“Bulma,” Vegeta growled in warning, not caring for her self-pity. She looked up at him with a small, sad smile. He sighed at her, losing his anger, and he stood up. “I am not having this conversation with you right now. It's late. Let's get you to bed.”

“Your bed?” Bulma asked, giving him a coy smile and rubbing her toes against his leg.

He scowled down at her, unimpressed. “Your bed. Alone.”

Bulma pouted, letting her foot drop. She sighed and held her arms up, still holding the drink in one hand. “Fine. Can you carry me? I'm still drunk.”

“I thought you were only tipsy,” he said with a raised brow.

“Pfft, I'm drunk, you can't believe anything a drunk person says.”

Vegeta gave her an incredulous look, and Bulma smirked at him. He grumbled under his breath as he scooped her up into his arms. As he carried her out, Bulma pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes, disappointed at the turn of events, but at least Vegeta wasn't too mad at her. Bulma listened to the sound of his heart beat until she drifted off. She didn't wake up when he put her down in bed, but when he tried to pry the sports drink from her hand she came to.

“Don't,” she murmured, struggling to hold on to the bottle.

“You can't sleep with that,” Vegeta protested.

“It's the only thing you've given me, so I'm keeping it,” she mumbled back stubbornly.

Vegeta stopped fighting her, stunned by her announcement. He cleared his throat. “I'll get you something else.”

“No, I want this,” Bulma sulked, her eyes still scrunched closed, clutching the bottle tightly to her chest.

Vegeta made an irritated sound and finally gave up, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Bulma smiled smugly in triumph and started to sink back asleep. His voice pulled her back.

“There's a bowl by the bed in case you're sick,” Vegeta told her, his words close to her ear.

“M'kay,” she mumbled sleepily.

“And your phone is right there on the table. Use it if you need help.”

“Mm-hm.”

“… You call me if you need help. Not any of your other friends.”

Bulma smiled and nodded.

“Do you need anything?”

Bulma snuggled down tightly in her bed, clutching her drink. “Can you pet my hair?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said no,” Vegeta replied tersely, sounding embarrassed.

“Please? It will help me sleep.”

“You hardly seem in need of it.”

“Please?”

“Bulma.”

“Please? Pretty please.”

“Tch. Alright, goddamnit! Enough already.”

The bed dipped as Vegeta sat down and soon his fingers were brushing through her hair. Bulma hummed in pleasure, enjoying his surprisingly gentle touch. “Mmmm, that's nice. You're the best, Vegeta.”

“Shut it, Briefs.”

Bulma smiled and enjoyed the attention. She didn't want it to end, but she knew it would. She wondered if they'd ever be able to share a moment like this again, or if Vegeta was only pitying her because she was intoxicated. After a minute, she was compelled to speak. “Vegeta?”

“Jesus Christ, what now?”

Bulma hesitated, but her mouth was moving without her really meaning for it to. “Do you think it's okay to have feelings for someone if they don't want to return them?”

Vegeta's hand stilled in her hair, and it took him a moment to answer. “… I think instead of that, you need to focus on sleeping tonight off.”

“…Okay,” she said, her voice small, not sure if she felt saddened or amused by his skirting her question.

He brushed his fingers through her hair one last time, caressing her silken tresses reverently before tucking them behind her ear. He leaned in, and his breath was warm over her ear. “Night, Bulma,” he whispered, his words a grumbled promise of protection.

“G'night, Vegeta,” she replied sleepily, and reached out to touch his arm. He slipped out of her reach as he rose, and he left the room. When her bedroom door clicked closed, Bulma easily drifted off, still holding her half-drunk sports drink to her breast.

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AN:

So, what d'ya think? This was one of my favs to write, personally ^_^

I also wrote a little Vegebul one-shot drabble that I'll probably post in a couple days, so keep an eye out for that. It'll be titled “Routine”.

I'd also like to thank all my regular reviewers, you guys who leave a review pretty much every chapter, you guys are amazing and I always look forward to reading your guys' thoughts and reactions, it totally makes my day, so thank you ^_^