Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Friends ❯ 29 - Sorry ( Chapter 29 )

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

Ch.29 - Sorry

Bulma crashed through the entryway, the doors bursting open with a loud bang in her wake. She rushed to the front desk. “Vegeta Saiyan! O-or Briefs. Vegeta Briefs. I'm here for Vegeta, h-he's my husband, he was shot, at the event center, they said he was asking for me?” she blurted out, not even ashamed about her lie.

The nurse somehow understood and looked through her charts. Bulma waited in anguish for the nurse to find Vegeta's name, each second ticking by feeling like hours.

“Please,” Bulma added in a small, broken voice, pleading to the universe as much as she was to the nurse.

The nurse finally found him in her records. “Yes, he was admitted to surgery. You can wait in lounge 302.”

Bulma felt herself grow faint in relief. “He's alive?” she asked, barely able to choke the words out. “How is he?”

“I can't say, dear, you'll have to wait for the surgeon.”

“But he's alive?” Bulma insisted doggedly. “If he's in surgery, he must be alive right?”

“I don't know,” the nurse apologized.

Before Bulma could badger the poor woman further, she felt gentle hands pull on her. She looked up, seeing Goku hovering over her, giving her a concerned look. “Let's go wait,” he suggested.

Bulma relented and nodded, letting Goku lead her away to the designated lounge.

“He has to be alive, right?” she asked him as they went, wiping tears from her eyes. “They wouldn't be operating on him if he was dead.”

“I… suppose they're trying…” Goku said, his tone woefully pessimistic.

“S-so there's a chance!” He had to be, he asked for her. She clung to that ray of hope like a lifeline, desperate. “He must be alive, o-or why would they be trying to save him?”

Goku's mouth was pulled thin, his lips pale. “I don't know, Bulma. I really hope so, but… I saw Vegeta being put into the ambulance, I heard what they said…”

“Well you heard wrong,” Bulma snapped back at him. “Why else would they say he asked for me then, huh?”

Goku still looked skeptical. She wanted to hit him for it. Why was he so opposed to the idea that Vegeta might be alive? He and Vegeta were friends, weren't they? Why was Goku being such an ass?

They reached the lounge and thankfully no one else was there because Bulma was too wound up to be considerate to anyone else's space. She paced the room, biting her fingernails. Goku gave her a pitying look. “Bulma,” he started to say, then looked around to see if they were truly alone. The officer hadn't followed them, staying back in his vehicle to make some calls. It was just the two of them. He gently grabbed her arms and steered her into a chair before looking down at her with a serious expression. “Bulma, listen. Who else would benefit from bringing you here by claiming to be your `husband'?”

“What?” she asked dumbly. Her mind was a mess, unfocused, and she struggled to bring the desperate threads of her attention onto what Goku was saying.

Goku's fingers gripped her the arms of her chair tighter. “Bulma, think about it. What's more likely, that Vegeta recovered from a bullet in the heart to ask for you, or that someone else claimed to be your husband? Someone like Frieza.”

“…What?” she asked again, weaker this time, a cold dread starting to consume her.

Goku gave her a stern, worried look. “I think this is a trap. We need to be careful. Frieza could have lured you here to clean up lose ends.”

Her lip trembled, trying to fight his logic. “How do you…?” she asked, confused. Terrified. Since when did Goku know what was going on?

“Vegeta told me everything,” he said brusquely. He paused, thinking, his mouth thinning. “Well, apparently not everything. I didn't know he was going to sacrifice himself or I never…”

Bulma started crying and she hit Goku in the arm. She didn't want to hear it. “No, you're wrong. Vegeta asked for me because he's still alive,” she insisted. Pleaded. This wasn't a trap, it couldn't be. Not because she was scared of Frieza, but because if Goku's theory was correct, it meant Vegeta hadn't asked for it.

Because he couldn't.

Because he was dead.

“Bulma-”

“NO I DON'T CARE!” she shouted at Goku. You're being unreasonable, a voice eerily like Vegeta's told her, but she crushed it down deep inside herself, steadfastly ignoring it. “YOU'RE WRONG AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT ANYMORE. WHAT DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT ANY OF IT.”

Goku grabbed her arms, trying to settle her down. “More than you think,” he said firmly. “I know that this tournament meant Vegeta's freedom from the Icejin. I know that we've been training hard for it, for months. I know that Vegeta would have done anything, anything to keep you safe, keep you out of all of it. And I know that he gave me his Capsule card to withdraw more money than I'll probably ever see again in my life, just to make a second bet behind your back, a bet on me winning because Vegeta knew they'd never let him. That was his plan, he knew that between the money they lost on him advancing beyond the semi-finals, and on me winning instead of Ginyu, the Icejin would be forced to negotiate with us… or so he told me, but I guess that last part was a lie.”

Bulma sat, stunned, struggling to process Goku's words. Goku knew? Goku had been in on this? Vegeta had confided in him?

Bulma didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. Goku pulled her in against his shoulder and held her, rubbing her back as she cried. There were so many unanswered questions, and a fear deep inside her that they'd never be answered, because Vegeta was gone. He'd died for her, for his freedom, and she'd never get to see him again. Goku held her, comforting her as she grieved…

“Jeez. Who died?”

She and Goku startled, breaking apart. Their eyes popped open, stunned at what they saw. Sat in a wheelchair in the middle of the lounge, covered in bandages, cuts and bruises but otherwise looking perfectly fine, was Vegeta.

Bulma felt the air knocked out of her. She couldn't breathe.

He was… alive?!

Goku reacted first, springing up, taking two running steps and hugging Vegeta in a brutal bear hug. “VEGETA!”

Vegeta cried out in pain. “Ah! Get OFF me you asshole, that hurts!” he snarled, trying to shove Goku away to little avail. The nurse who'd wheeled him in smiled and walked off, leaving the three of them to catch up.

Goku laughed, the sound wetter than usual. He pulled back and punched Vegeta in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You're alive!” Goku exclaimed happily, ignoring Vegeta's complaint, overjoyed to see him sitting there looking well. “Th-they said you were dead! Shot through the heart. I heard them! I saw you. You were covered in blood, you weren't even moving. Wow, I just… Wow, I can't believe it!”

Vegeta grimaced at Goku's enthusiasm. His eyes slid over to look at Bulma.

She was frozen in her chair by the sight of him, astonished, undone by a torrent of emotions, unable to believe he was there, talking, alive. Vegeta looked so totally fine. After everything she'd been through, it was too surreal. She couldn't wrap her head around it. She'd been mourning for him just seconds ago!

When she didn't react, Vegeta lowered his eyes, his fingers curling up. He turned his attention back to Goku, but didn't quite look either of them in the eyes. “They must have been talking about Zarbon,” he suggested, his voice flat.

“Who?” Goku asked.

“Never mind,” Vegeta sighed, irritated. “What's the status report? Where's Frieza?”

“Frieza? Uh, no idea, he left the scene before the police arrived,” Goku admitted.

Vegeta grimaced and rubbed the bandages that were over his chest. Bulma watched his fingers knead the spot she'd seen him take the bullet. How… how was he still alive?

“We need to act fast,” Vegeta finally said. “Did you call my father yet?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Goku admitted, looking sheepish. “Bulma was too-”

“Okay, never mind. I'll call him. We also have to get the security footage to the police ASAP. We need to get it out as quickly and to as many people as possible, the Icejin have contacts in the force, so we want to make sure this doesn't get hushed up. We do have the footage, right?” he asked, looking again at Bulma.

She still couldn't speak, couldn't even find the power to nod. She had the irrational fear that if she acknowledged him this whole scene would crumble, shattering the illusion that he was really there. That he was really okay.

Goku cleared his throat and answered for her when she didn't. “Uh, yeah. She got it. You know our Bulma, she's a smart girl.”

“Yeah,” Vegeta agreed, his eyes showing his uncertainty at her refusal to respond to him.

Goku looked between the two of them. He cleared his throat and patted Vegeta on the shoulder, getting up. “Well, I'll um… go find the officer and start the ball rolling.” He left the lounge.

It was just the two of them.

Vegeta watched Goku leave, then slowly looked back at her. Bulma felt her heart stop, her eyes filling with tears. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare at him, his `death' replaying over and over in her mind, seeing him fall down after Frieza pulled the trigger, hearing Vegeta's words, his apology for breaking his promise echoing in her mind.

Vegeta's brow creased, his mouth pulling down. For a moment they both sat, unsure what to say. Then Vegeta grunted, painfully heaving himself out of his wheelchair. Bulma watched with wide eyes as he approached. He stood before her, looking down at her with a stern expression.

He heart was hammering frantically in her chest.

And then he dropped to his knees, humbling himself before her. He grabbed her legs, and pressed his brow against her shins.

“Bulma…” he choked out.

She let out a small cry, her name on his lips breaking her. Unbidden tears rose and spilled down her cheeks, dripping into her lap. She raised her hands, hovering them over his dark, spiky hair, afraid that when she touched him her hand would slip through his image… but they didn't. She pushed her fingers into his hair, so thick and coarse and familiar, and the tight coil of tension inside her snapped. She curled over him, wrapping her arms about his head and shoulders, hugging him to her possessively. He was alive. She sobbed wretchedly. “I thought you were dead!” she wailed.

He hugged her legs tighter. “I'm sorry.”

Her fingers tightened on him, refusing to let him go. “You made me watch that! You knew, you knew it would happen, and you made me watch that, you jerk!!”

“I know. I'm sorry…”

“You didn't tell me what they'd planned, what you'd planned. You lied to me!”

“I did. I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry? You're sorry?” she asked shrilly, and she thumped her fist on his shoulder. She felt him wince in pain but he took it without complaint which only made her feel worse. Bulma pulled back from their embrace, her lip trembling. “H-how could you do that to me, Vegeta? How c-could you? You stupid, selfish jerk. I hate you. I hate you so much, I hate you…”

His fingers flexed on her legs, his shoulders hunching. His voice was hoarse when he replied. “… I'm sorry, I… I'll leave…” His hands started to slip from her and he began to push away.

Bulma clutched him back tighter. “Stop. Look at me, you idiot.”

He hesitated, but steeled himself and raised his head. He could only glance at her for a moment before he had to look off to the side, his brow pulled into a defensive scowl, his eyes swimming with uncertainty.

She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her, and kissed him. His eyes widened, his breath hitching against her lips, surprised. “But…” he stammered, thrown off.

“If you ever leave me again, I will hunt you down and castrate you,” she whispered against his lips.

He stared at her in amazement. She returned his look, letting a small, coy smile grow.

His eyes widened further, and then he grabbed her, his hands clutching her head and dragging her in for a needy, consuming kiss. His weight forced her knees to part and he pressed in closer, his body pushing hers back into her chair. They kissed at each other, greedy for affection, for confirmation that they'd both survived and were okay, not just physically but emotionally. Her fingers twisted in his hair, keeping them together, and she wrapped her legs about him, needing to feel every powerful inch of him against her, reassuring her that he wasn't going to disappear on her any time soon. He winced, flinching in pain as she pressed on one of his injuries.

“How are you even alive?” she asked in wonder, her breathing heavy from their kiss, her eyes raking his bandaged body.

He gave a devilish, lopsided grin. “You can thank your own genius for that.”

“What?”

“Your training suit,” he explained, looking smug. “The one you made for our class project. I was wearing it under my gi.”

Bulma blinked. Then she reeled back in horror. “Are you CRAZY. You bet your life on that prototype? It's not even SUPPOSE to be bullet proof, you idiot!”

Vegeta smiled wryly. “Well it was better than nothing.” He looked down, tapping the bandage over his heart. “It didn't stop the bullet entirely, but it was enough to spare me any serious injury. They didn't even have to cut me open much, they just extracted the bullet. Your prototype saved my life.”

Bulma was trembling in rage, incredulous. It was a goddamn miracle that Vegeta was alive. “Why didn't you tell me! I could have designed you something better!”

Vegeta scoffed. “Oh right. Like you would have let me go ahead with the plan knowing there was a chance I'd get shot. Besides, he could have shot me in the head and then we wouldn't even be having this conversation. Why do you think I kept this from you in the first place?”

Bulma fisted her hands, her face hot in fury. “I can't believe you. If you weren't so injured, I'd slap you stupid right now!”

“I know,” he said, giving her a soft, affectionate look. “I'm sorry.”

“Argh! Stop saying that, it's creepy coming from you,” she grouched, side-eyeing him. He smirked at her and leaned in, pressing their brows together.

“Sorry.”

“Jerk,” she spat sullenly.

He kissed her nose. “Sorry.” He kissed her cheek. “I'm sorry.” He kissed her the spot where her jaw met her neck. “I'm so sorry, Bulma.” Then he hugged her, holding her close, squeezing her tightly against him.

She felt her throat close up and she hugged him back, burying her face against him, squeezing away tears, so thankful that she could hold him. Alive.

“Bulma,” he said, his tone becoming serious. “I couldn't tell you everything because I couldn't risk it, I had to make sure you'd react realistically to their threats. I needed them to focus on you so that they wouldn't suspect Goku. They had to think they'd won, that they'd gotten to me by getting to you…” He tightened his hold on her further. “Bulma, you have to know I was never with you because of any orders. That was all a lie. My dad told them that I would spy on you so that the Icejin would let me stay with you, but it was all a ruse, I swear.”

“I know,” Bulma said, believing him. What they'd shared, what she'd seen in him, could never be faked. She trusted him. Loved him.

“And whatever Frieza told you at the tournament-” he started to say.

“It's okay,” Bulma interrupted. “I know Frieza is a lying jerk, and I know they forced you to take that dive, I mean, I could see Ginyu talking to you, and I knew what losing that fight meant to you. They must have had something good on you to force your hand like that.”

She pulled back, trying to see Vegeta's face. He looked away, down, tracing his fingers over her amulet that rested against her heart, his face pinching into a frown. “Yeah…” He raised his eyes, their black depths swimming with something that looked haunted. “Losing was nothing compared to what they would have taken.”

Bulma swallowed, suddenly nervous. She didn't know what he meant, but she got the feeling that he was talking about something personal, something related to her, and she also got the feeling she was better off not knowing the specifics. Vegeta looked away from her, rubbing his chest wound again. It reminded her that she'd so very nearly lost him, at what a huge gamble he'd taken to be free of the Icejins, and that despite her and Goku's minor roles, he'd still taken the majority of the burden on himself. “Vegeta. I know you weren't trying to double-cross me, but it still hurt that you didn't tell me everything. And what the hell was with you including Goku in your plans?”

Vegeta huffed, looking uncomfortable. “I needed him to place another bet. I was ordered to take an early dive to rig the games, but by not doing that, it cost them money. The more I advanced, the more expensive it became for the them, and the more desperate they became to stop me. I knew they would try, knew they'd be watching you and me, and in doing so, they'd never look twice at Goku, despite him being… undeniably good,” Vegeta grit out grudgingly. “No one was expecting Ginyu to lose. Ginyu never loses. So when Goku won, the Icejin lost big. And Frieza was pissed. I knew he'd do something drastic, and I knew if we could get that on film, get him to admit to what he'd did, we could bring down his empire. Legally. Like you wanted.”

“Except for the part where you'd die!” she chided. “You broke your promise.”

He sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn't have to, but you're right. I did. I did it for you.”

Bulma felt her jaw set. “You don't get to decide that. Do you have any idea how upset I was? Am?”

He looked down at her lap, contrite, saying nothing.

She was still mad, still hurt, still terrified at how close she'd nearly come to never seeing him again. But somehow, inexplicably, it had all worked out, and he was here, alive, and really, that's all that mattered right now. And that he, Vegeta, actually looked cowed, was kind of amazing in and of itself.

Wanting to break the awkward silence, Bulma shook her head. “I still can't believe you trusted Goku to help you, or that you were banking on him to win. Who are you?” she teased.

Vegeta made a face. “Yes, well… Don't go spreading that around.”

“What?” she asked, starting to smirk. “That you and Goku Son are best buddies?”

Vegeta's lips pulled back in a sneer. “Ugh, woman, please. Are you trying to make me ill?”

Bulma laughed. “Aw, Vegeta, you're blushing. Is Goku your first boy friend?”

Vegeta flinched back, his face going pink, looking at her aghast. “What?! Of course not, the HELL are you blabbering about?!”

She snickered. “Oh my god he is and you don't know how to handle it. You're so cute when you're bashful.”

“Leaving now,” he grouched, starting to get up.

Bulma tightened her grip and pulled him back in, pressing her brow to his. “What did I just tell you about leaving me?”

He huffed, still annoyed with her. “Don't remember. You say a lot of dumb things I mostly ignore.”

“Like how I love you?”

“…”

“And that I'm glad you're alive?”

“Tch.”

She smirked and grabbed his hand. He looked down at her as she undid the blue leather band from her wrist and wrapped it back about his. “There. Now it's back where it belongs.” She closed the clasp with a satisfying little click. “Mine,” she said softly. Resolute.

She looked up at him, and he was staring at her, his black eyes searching hers. She felt her heart flutter.

“Bulma-”

“If you say you're sorry again, I swear I will smack you.”

“I love you.”

“Oh… Okay then. That's acceptable.”

“Shut it, Briefs.”

“Make m-fph~!” <3

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

With the help of Dr. Briefs and their army of Capsule Corp lawyers, Bulma was able to get dozens of copies of the security footage to the authorities. The fallout was incredible. The Colds were arrested, as were the Ginyu crew and a slew of other gang members, all on various counts of murder, torture, underground gambling, blackmailing, and a string of other crimes that would see the Colds locked up for the rest of their lives and then some. There was no shortage of witnesses; with the Icejin leaders put away for good, the loyalty of the gang fell the wayside, everyone now willing to cut a deal and testify in a desperate bid for self preservation. The Icejin were all the news could talk about for weeks. Everyone suddenly knew somebody who worked with or had connections with the Icejin.

After the tournament, the doctors had allowed Vegeta to leave the hospital if he promised to rest. With no tournament to train for or vengeance to carry out, Bulma made sure that Vegeta would keep that promise, and still repentant for having broken his promise to her, Vegeta actually obliged.

They were taking it easy at home when the doorbell rang. Bulma left to answer the door, returning a few minutes later, clearing her throat in the doorway to Vegeta's room.

“Vegeta, are you busy? You have a guest.”

Vegeta looked up from his playstation. The controller fell from his fingers, his eyes going wide. He stood up stiffly. “Sir?”

“Vegeta,” Mr. Saiyan greeted, stepping into his son's room. He glanced around, taking in the neat room, before looking back at Vegeta. “I see you've made yourself at home here. Are you well?” he asked, despite the fact that Vegeta was still bruised and bandaged.

Vegeta nodded. His eyes darted to Bulma, then back to his father. Mr. Saiyan noticed and he glanced at Bulma. He smiled warmly at her.

“Ah, yes, Miss Briefs. I know I have you and your father to thank for taking care of my son these past few months.”

Bulma was about to reply but suddenly the air was squeezed out of her as the towering man swept her up in a large hug.

“Uh… it was n-nothing, really,” she wheezed helplessly.

Mr. Saiyan held her to the point of awkwardness, then cleared his throat and pulled back, but he didn't disengage entirely. He took her hand in his. “Nonsense. You saved my son, no, you saved our family. You did what I never could. I…” his voice trailed off and he looked down, suddenly ashamed at his outburst. He squeezed her hand, then looked at it, frowning.

Bulma stiffened when she realized what he'd noticed - the ring. Vegeta's mother's ring - Mr. Saiyan's deceased wife's ring, that she now wore so casually on her finger. Her eyes went wide and she glanced at Vegeta, panicked. She didn't know how Mr. Saiyan would react to her having such a personal memento, especially one he'd tried to get rid of.

Vegeta also noticed, and though his expression didn't change, he walked over to stand by her side.

“Vegeta,” Mr. Saiyan said, his voice quiet. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yessir,” Vegeta replied.

“I thought I…”

“You did. But I got it back.”

Mr. Saiyan didn't reply. After a moment he bowed his head, putting a hand over his face. Bulma glanced at Vegeta anxiously, her hand still being held prisoner.

Vegeta sighed. “Dad,” he chastised gently. He reached out and pried her hand from his father's grip. Mr. Saiyan let her go, but replaced her with his son, touching Vegeta's bruised face, looking at his son in anguish. “Vegeta, I'm sorry…”

He suddenly wrapped Vegeta up in a hug, crushing him to his chest. And started crying.

“Forgive me, son. I failed you. I failed to protect you, I failed you in every way. You deserved a better father than I ever was. You've always been a better man than me, even as a boy. Forgive me…”

Mr. Saiyan continued to cling to his son, weeping, while Vegeta stood woodenly in his arms. Then, tentatively, Vegeta raised his hands and hugged his father back. His hands fisted in his father's top and he lowered his face, clinging to Mr. Saiyan.

Bulma ducked out of the room, allowing father and son some privacy.

A while later, Vegeta came and found her, looking abashed, his eyes suspiciously red. “Yeah, uh… my old man wants to speak to you before he leaves.”

Bulma went to say goodbye. Mr. Saiyan was already at the front door. He reached out to shake her hand again. “You are very special, Miss Briefs… May I call you Bulma?”

She nodded. “Of course, Sir.”

“Not `sir',” Mr. Saiyan corrected. “Please, call me `dad'.”

She felt her face go red. “I-I, uh,” she stammered.

Mr. Saiyan smiled and winked at her. “Vegeta wouldn't give this ring to just any girl,” he said conspiringly, tapping the ring on her hand. “Well then… once this court case business with the Colds is over, I'll be sure to make up lost time with the both of you. I want to get to know the girl that both stole and saved my son. Take care of him for me until then.” He squeezed her hand.

“Y-yes, Sir,” she replied, but when he gave her a reprimanding look, Bulma blushed and corrected herself. “Uh, Dad…”

Mr. Saiyan beamed happily. He petted her on the head and then left. After closing the door, Bulma turned and saw Vegeta was watching her, waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“I think he approves,” she joked weakly, still embarrassed.

Vegeta crossed his arms, huffing. “He'd be crazy not to.”

They didn't see Vegeta's father for a long while after that. He was one of the key witnesses in the Colds trials, and had to be taken into protective custody; Mr. Saiyan had a lot of damning evidence that he'd been secretly collecting over the years which would help bring down not only Frieza and his father, but the entire Icejin gang. Between the security footage Bulma had retrieved, Mr. Saiyan's testimony, and various other Icejin and victims stepping forward, the Colds were never going to see the light of day again. But to play it safe, Dr. Briefs hired protection for his family until the Colds' case was settled, something Vegeta found to be incredibly amusing, boasting that it was unnecessary because he was the best protection the Briefs had.

The next few weeks flew by, busy with school and the police and keeping Vegeta entertained enough so that he wouldn't resort to over training. They spent a lot of free time at home, hanging out, gaming, studying, sometimes entertaining Goku or the others when they visited. Vegeta couldn't be kept from the gym for long, especially when Bulma was busy experimenting in the lab with her father, and oddly enough it was Vegeta who'd have to come and demand she take a break, rather than the other way around, or send her an agitated text.

You're in the lab again, aren't you?

Err… no? [Angel face]

Are you coming out soon? I need your assistance.

I'll be done in a minute,Vegeta. Can you wait? [winky face] [timer] [heart]

Woman, your minute is more like an hour. Fine, I guess I'll just try taking these bandages off by myself. Naked.

NOOO I'M COMING, WAIT!!!!

And that's how the days and weeks passed, and Bulma couldn't have been happier.

“Go grab a game, I'm bored of this,” Vegeta complained, turning off the TV they had been attempting to watch one evening.

“Yeah yeah,” she said as she got up from the couch and went to explore his collection of games. Not sure what to choose, she grabbed a handful of boxes and brought them back to the couch, dumping them on the cushions so Vegeta could choose.

“Tch, careful, some of these are collector's editions,” he grouched.

She just stuck her tongue out at him. As Vegeta sorted through the boxes, a familiar one caught her eye - the girl with the blue hair on the cover that she knew had a strand of her hair inside. Smirking, Bulma picked up the box and wagged it in front of Vegeta.

“What about this one? Look, it's a game about me.”

Vegeta glanced at the box, and a second later his eyes bugged out. “NOT THAT ONE, GIVE IT HERE!” he hollered, and tried to snatch it from her hand.

She held it out of his reach. “What? Why not? It looks cute. I want to try it.”

Vegeta lunged for the game. “Cut it out, Bulma, we're not playing that one!”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so, damnit!”

“Boy, that's odd, it's really light,” she teased, shaking the box. “I don't think there's even anything inside.”

“Exactly, so hand it over!” Vegeta huffed, still trying to snatch it from her.

“No.”

“Goddamnit, Bulma!” Vegeta growled, and he knocked her back on the couch, climbing up her to snatch the box from her hand. Having his prize, he looked down at her, Bulma pinned beneath him. She beamed up at him, amused at how flustered he was.

“Satisfied?” she teased.

He sneered. “Why are you SUCH A BRAT?! Can't you respect anything of mine?”

She scoffed. “That's rich, considering it's my hair you're secreting away.”

Vegeta blanched, recoiling. “How did yo… Have you been snooping through my stuff?!”

Bulma snorted. “Hardly. I found it when I was trying to bring you some games to the hospital, dumbass.”

“Tch……”

“Don't `tch' me,” she insisted, pressing a finger to his chest. “Tell me, what are you doing keeping body parts in your room.”

“It's not… I haven't… It's none of your damn business,” he finally snapped, flustered. He tried to pull away but Bulma grabbed his shirt and yanked him back down.

“My hair. My business.”

“Ugh!” He snapped irritably. “Yes, fine, it's your goddamn hair. I kept it to confirm your hair color, alright?”

Bulma arched a skeptical brow. “You've kept it all this time to see if I was naturally blue?”

Vegeta's gaze slipped away, and he mumbled something.

“What was that?”

He sighed through clenched teeth, giving her a petulant look. “I said, it was the first gift I'd ever received from someone…” he trailed off, blushing hotly.

Bulma felt her heart clench even as she was tempted to laugh at how miserable he looked. She put her hands on his face and squished his cheeks together. “You're so fucking cute.”

“I hate you,” he growled from his smooshed face, trying to scowl at her.

“I love you too,” she replied, and then gasped a moment later when his fingers dug into her sides. She howled with laughter, squirming and squealing as he attacked her, tickling her mercilessly on the couch.

“Stop, please, uncle, uncle!” Bulma begged.

“Say it,” he growled, his fingers vicious in her sides. “Say you'll do anything.”

“Y-you p-pervert!” she protested, struggling to fight off his hands as she laughed.

He grinned down at her ruthlessly. “Say it,” he insisted. “I won't stop until you do.”

“I'll d-do anything!” she gasped through her laughter, giving in far too easily. “Please, I'll do anything for you, Vegeta!”

“Good,” he said, and kissed her.

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

AN: :)

Do you forgive me yet?

One more to go….~