Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ FROM BAD TO WORSE... ❯ Hesitant Romance ( Chapter 6 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Darke Angelus 
Bulma and Vegeta share their first kiss. Thanks to Yamcha and Dr. Briefs it will be their last.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.07.2001 | Pages: 7 | Words: 4.5K | Visits: 2.7K | Status: Completed
Bulma and Vegeta share their first kiss. Thanks to Yamcha and Dr. Briefs it will be their last.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.07.2001 | Pages: 7 | Words: 4.5K | Visits: 2.7K | Status: Completed
Last Chapter: Vegeta and Bulma have settled into a companionable routine that
has not gone unnoticed by a very angry Yamcha. He confronts her about her
feelings for the Saiyan that parts the past lovers on a bitter note.
----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------
FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Six
Bulma didn't want to go into the house where she might run into her mother
who would comment on her distress. Instead, she chose to head back to her office
and slammed the door. She was about to sit in front of her computer when she
glanced at her desk and released a startled gasp of surprise.
There were two new blueprints lying over the cluttered surface. Picking
one up in confusion, Bulma stared at it in amazement when she recognized the
handwriting almost immediately. "I'll be damned..."
She left her office and went down the hall to the drafting department. The
door was partially ajar and all of the lights were still on. When she peered
inside all of her previous animosity and resentment went out of her in a rush.
Smiling broadly, she slipped away as silently as she came in.
>>>>>
After losing his temper with Bulma in the park the previous morning,
Vegeta had felt absolutely no sense of accomplishment when he had left her
behind. When he had spent the remainder of the day in the simulator, the hurt on
her face had plagued at him, interfering with his concentration. He rationalized
that it was normal for her to be curious about him. What human wouldn't be? He
should have been flattered by the attention so why was it such a damn bother!
The Briefs woman appeared trustworthy with no motive behind her probing
questions other than an insistent curiosity that was almost childlike. He was so
used to having his back against the wall as he faced hatred for being a Saiyan,
he was unprepared for innocuous and simple unthreatening interest. Vegeta
realized that it was a refreshing diversion to intercept questions rather than
insults. He didn't want that to change but he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted
to encourage it, either.
Late that evening during his usual struggle to sleep it dawned on him how
he could possibly make it up to her. Bulma had been surrounded by athletic male
figures for all of her life. Displays of power or physical effort meant nothing
to her. He had observed her excitement when she had been in front of her
computer entering the data that he had written down for her. That was the key
right there and he got out of bed, got dressed and went downstairs to the
drafting room where he stayed for the rest of the night.
He was stretched out on the couch in the department with an arm over his
eyes to shut out the light. A clipboard was lying on his chest, a pencil loosely
clenched in one hand. At somewhere around five in the morning, he had taken a
break to puzzle out a computation that seemed to elude him and had finally
succumbed to his exhaustion.
The heady smell of coffee slowly brought him around and when he opened his
eyes he realized he had fallen asleep. It was now light outside and Bulma was
standing over him holding a mug of coffee in each hand, still wearing her
jogging clothes.
"What time is it?" he asked, sitting up and accepting the proffered
beverage.
"Almost eight."
He rubbed his burning eyes with a grimace. "Shit. Give me a few minutes
and I'll get changed-"
"That's alright. I just got back." She decided it would be for the best if
she left out Yamcha's participation. "If it's any consolation, it's not the same
running without you. I missed your biting sarcasm."
"Thanks, I think," he grumbled, drinking his coffee and suddenly scowled
into the mug. "What is this? De-caf?"
"You're hyper enough as it is," she said in amusement.
"Not this morning, I'm not."
Looking at him more closely as he nursed his drink, she watched as he
visibly struggled to snap out of his daze. "I'm worried that you may not be
getting enough sleep. Is there something wrong?"
He got to his feet with a grunt and wandered over to the drafting table.
"Have you seen the designs I left on your desk?"
She hated it when he changed the subject with such obvious scorn. "I took
a glance at them but Vegeta-"
"I recalled an exhaust system that Frieza's scientists had been
dissecting," he told her. "It recycled the external combustion and powered all
of the electrical systems in a closed-circuit exchange-"
"Vegeta, you're babbling."
He glared at her levelly. "I don't babble. I thought the schematics would
interest you."
"The design is intriguing," she said honestly. "Right now I'd sooner talk
to you about-"
"Bah! Why did I even bother?!" he shouted and suddenly kicked over the
drafting table in anger.
Jumping out of the way, Bulma looked at him in confusion. "Vegeta! What's
the matter with you?"
"You! You're the matter!" He screamed at her, throwing the mug against the
nearest wall. His blue ki erupted around him without his being aware of it. "I
get up in the morning - YOU'RE THERE! I leave the simulator - YOU'RE THERE!
Everywhere I turn - YOU'RE THERE! Now I can't even sleep at night without you
intruding in my dreams. You. Are. Driving. Me. CRAZY!!"
Bulma had been entirely oblivious that she'd had any kind of an affect on
him. He was such a master of concealing his emotions that this crazed confession
took her entirely by surprise. The two regarded one another through a wall of
tension until she confessed to him in a small voice, "I haven't been sleeping
very well either. I've been dreaming about you, too."
Confusion replaced the rage on his face. Eventually he dropped his self-
protective shield of energy and only stood in front of her, utterly defenseless.
"What does that mean?"
She cleared the distance and took one of his hands into her own. It was
surprisingly smooth as she traced the lines on his palm with a fingernail. If he
wanted to, he could grind the bones of her delicate fingers into dust but when
she squeezed his hand, he gently squeezed back. She smiled when she looked into
his strange eyes and reached towards his face.
Shying away from her touch he backed away from her uneasily, his features
tensened in alarm. "Don't..."
Hesitating, Bulma saw what could be mistaken as distrust in his demeanor.
There was something more revealed in his usually guarded eyes that she was privy
to view. The Saiyan's conduct was like an animal in a shelter that had been so
badly abused in its life that it could no longer decipher cruelty from
compassion. Sadly, it was the type of animal that was always deemed
untrustworthy and inexorably put out of its misery. The depth of fear and
indecision in his black gaze wounded her. She resolved that she would not give
up on him so easily.
"I won't hurt you. Don't you trust me? Just a little bit?" she murmured,
her soul aching from the apparent wariness of such a simple offering.
He stood his ground and permitted the contact, but only barely. His
muscles were coiled up like springs and she knew that he was close to bolting.
The tips of her fingers gently traced the minute scars on his face; some faded
by years and barely noticeable, others more recent. There was so much pain
etched into his hardened features that her heart bled and her eyes swam with
remorseful tears. With a sound like a sob, she closed her lips over his own.
She got no response. His mouth remained tense and hard against hers. He
looked into her face searching for deception or a possible ruse he was so used
to confronting but her face was relaxed and her eyes, oh Gods! her eyes...
implored him to share what she so freely wanted to offer him. With a weary sigh,
he gradually yielded to her gentle insistence. They finally shared a tender,
brief kiss before resting their foreheads against one another and looking into
each other's eyes.
"Does that help answer your question?" she whispered.
When she touched his face again this time he relaxed against her palm, a
smile flickered across his features at the warm contact. It was so fleeting that
Bulma wouldn't have caught it if their faces hadn't been so close to one
another. But it had been a smile nonetheless.
"It answers one but only creates others," he spoke up at last. His voice
had dropped to a low, throaty tone that raised gooseflesh on her arms. She could
imagine hearing that voice in the dark of night while he was atop of her.
Urgently, she pressed her body against him. He cast a bewildered glance around
the room, looking very different than his self-assured cockiness. He looked
completely out of his element. Slowly, his muscular arms encircled her slight
frame, completing the embrace she had begun. More to himself, he commented,
"What happens now?"
Bulma was carefully composing her answer when there was the distant
exchange of voices as the morning staff arrived for their shift. Vegeta
stiffened against her and stepped back before they could be seen together. The
wall of suppressed emotions was back up and he walked over and lifted the heavy
drafting table back to it previous position. He took down the unfinished
blueprint and rolled it up into a tube as he looked anxiously at her. "I'll
finish this up later..."
"Sure. Sure, Vegeta. Try to get some rest today, okay?"
He opened his mouth to respond when Charles McNeal poked his head inside
of the room and said cheerfully, "Good morning, you two. What a beautiful day!"
"Get out of my way, you idiot," Vegeta snapped as he sidestepped around
the man to leave.
The scientist watched him go without comment. Dr. Briefs had lectured his
staff when the Saiyan had first arrived about the man's moodiness and to not
provoke him at any costs. Until the communications chip had been introduced to
their workload, the staff had figured the little guy to be a psycho. Now, he was
just regarded as a temperamental genius.
"Morning, Charles," Bulma greeted absently as she kept her eye on the
door. Her heart was still racing from that small kiss and the feel of Vegeta's
arms around her body. It had just felt so right-! She had to submerge a shiver
of excitement.
His eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled at her. "Did someone change
the dress code the last time I was here? Rowf!"
She knew his was referring to her too-tight jogging ensemble and blushed.
"I'm going to my office. When you see dad tell him I've got something to show
him."
Charles' eyes brightened like a kid on Christmas morning. He had seen
Vegeta carrying a blueprint in one fist. "Is...ah, he going to like it?"
"I think we all will."
"Hot damn! I don't know where you found this guy but he sure is job
security!" the scientist yelled in rising excitement. "Hey, is it true that you
two are-"
"Just pass along the message, okay?" Bulma reminded him with a slanted
smile. When she was halfway down the hall she could hear Charles mutter; "What
the hell? That was my favorite mug. Sonofabitch!"
Covering her mouth, she managed to hold in her laughter until she was was
in her office. Leaning against the closed door, she let it all out until her
peels of giggles almost resembled hysterics.
>>>>>
Vegeta was NOT laughing.
When he returned to his room he quickly discovered that there wasn't
enough cold water in the world to get his mind off of the feel of Bulma's body
against his own, the taste of her lips, the smell of her hair-
"Oh, god-DAMN it!" he shouted into the chilling spray. He stayed there
until he started shivering and then paced around the room like a caged beast
wondering what he could do. Even his supposedly talented, uncommunicative
fingers weren't enough to stave off the edge to his desire. This game of
flirtatious glances and touches was going to be the death of him. Didn't she
realize he was trying to concentrate on his training?
I'm acting like a Low Caste Saiyan in his first rut, he thought in despair
as he sat on the corner of the bed with his head in his hands. There was no
logic to what he was feeling; the intensity of his attraction for the blue-
haired female was overpowering, clouding all other reason. He had never felt
anything like this before. He figured that it might have something to do with
the fact he hadn't coupled with a woman since before Radditz's death on Earth.
Wracking his brain for a precise date he realized that was over two years ago.
It had been with some blue-skinned amazon he had never learned the name to. They
had both been between missions on Frieza's warship and had made out in a
weapon's storage locker. It had been one hell of wild ride...(*FYIbelow*)
A raunchy grin came to his face before he submerged the memory with
difficulty. It wasn't helping the situation any by thinking about past conquests
and he didn't want to have to go running back to the shower. He looked over at
his exercise clothes and sighed. It looked like he was going to be beating his
brains out in the simulator today after all.
Yamcha came back from the run and waited around in the courtyard for
Vegeta to show up. Whether it would be a verbal confrontation or a physical one,
the younger fighter didn't care. Even Paur had settled into the background in a
mood close to a wounded sulk because Yamcha refused to listen to the cat's words
of reason.
Hearing movement behind him, Yamcha whirled and saw the Saiyan jump to the
ground from his own quarters and enter the gravity simulator, locking the door
after him. The red warning lights of a training session in progress came on
almost immediately.
"Damn it," he said under his breath, realizing that the alien had been
inside the damn building the entire time he had been outside waiting for him to
show. He was about to fly off and return to his apartment when he saw Dr. Briefs
peddling around the grounds doing his morning inventory before going inside to
work. Now that the nosy Saiyan wasn't anywhere within earshot, Yamcha
intercepted the aged man, betting that cooler heads would prevail with the
information he had to share.
"Hey, Doctor Briefs. Can I have a word with you?" he asked with a smile.
>>>>>
It was the sound of shouting that called a premature end to his training
session, as Vegeta powered down the simulator to see what the hell all of the
commotion was about. He had become almost as accustomed to recognizing Bulma's
excruciating pitches of voice as he was to rogue ki levels. That sound of stress
in the woman's tone didn't make him hurry his pace as he exited the capsule,
though. He was just relieved that it appeared as if someone else were the
recipient of her rage instead of himself for a change. The irritation on his
face lessened when he heard Yamcha's voice attempting (without much success) to
break into the tirade.
Coming around the south side of the complex, Vegeta levitated to the roof
of the headquarters building and stayed low. Bulma and Yamcha were in each
other's faces and oblivious to spectators but Paur was doing fretful circles
around the pair and the Saiyan knew that the irritating creature had a keen eye.
Lying on his stomach, he propped his head up with one arm and proceeded to watch
the show.
Stamping a short distance away, Bulma was starting to wind down when she
said, "We were together for over ten years and NOW you're trying to tell me that
you know what you want. I don't buy it."
"Those other women meant nothing to me. I've always loved you. You know
that, Bulma."
"You sure have had a strange way of showing it."
"I was immature. I've...I've changed. AT least let me prove it to you. I
told you this morning during that jog that I know how to treat you right-"
On the roof, Vegeta's amused smirk dropped as if he'd received a slap in
the face. Bulma had made no mention that she had gone for a run with him. His
fingers sank into the dense concrete down to the second knuckle before he reined
his strength back in.
"-And I told you that if it had been anybody other than Vegeta, you
wouldn't be acting like such an ass!" Bulma yelled back, getting her second
wind. "Honestly, how could you do such a thing behind my back, Yamcha?"
"Me? How about you? That little shit as much as killed me and you turned
around and chased after him like a bitch in heat!"
She moved in with deceptive speed and slapped him so hard across the face
that his head actually swung with the blow. Vegeta should have been amused but
it was dawning on him that this was something far more serious than an old
lover's quarrel.
"That was nasty," she hissed.
Yamcha slowly turned to look at her, the left-hand side of his face
flushing pink. "The truth hurts, doesn't it? All of those people in East city
who died when he first showed up. All of those innocent Nameks and countless
other races that he's exterminated. And here you are just dying to spread your
legs-"
Spitting in fury, she dove in and this time he caught her arm and pulled
her in close. "He's going to kill you, Bulma. Maybe not now while you still
amuse him but eventually he'll get bored of you and your family and do away with
you all. And he'll be laughing when he does it."
On the rooftop, Vegeta had indeed been aiming his index and middle fingers
at Yamcha's neck just above the shoulder blades and drew them in quickly at the
fighters harsh words before he fired. His teeth were clenched together so hard
in his rage that his jaws ached.
Tears were starting to course down her face. First that bitch in the park
and now Yamcha- Nobody understood! How dare they vent their opinions about a
person they didn't even know? All Bulma could think about was that pitiful way
that Vegeta had cringed from her touch in the drafting department. Prior to her
gentle caress, a hand to the face had meant an incoming punch. Pain was
something the Saiyan knew all too well and no one wanted to give her the chance
to show him that there were far more pleasurable sensations to look forward to.
"I keep telling you he's changed!" she sobbed. "You just can't see it because
you're too blinded by hate to-to-"
"You're the one who's blind here, Bulma," Yamcha cut in when her words
faltered. "I know you have a trusting heart like your mothers' but this time
it's telling you the wrong things. Vegeta-is-evil. I know you don't want it on
your conscience when he finally reverts back to his old ways. He's no better
than Frieza. Creatures like him never change, they-"
Vegeta had heard enough.
If he listened to any more of Yamcha's bullshit the fighters' prophecy
would come true even sooner than he thought. Sliding down the incline of the
building, Vegeta stopped when he reached the third level and slipped inside his
quarters. At a rare loss, he decided that the only thing he could possibly do
would be to lie low and wait for the fight to blow over. He would sooner join in
the argument and tell the bastard where he could put his stupid accusations but
he knew he would only lose his temper and the results would be devastating.
Bulma would track him down soon enough and he wanted it to happen on a full
stomach. He pulled on a shirt and set a course for the kitchen, which was about
the only refuge on this entire miserable planet that he had left.
Downstairs in the living room Dr. Briefs and his wife were exchanging
another terse exchange. It was rare when Mrs. Briefs' usual harried manner was
cowed but at the moment she was fitfully wrestling a tea towel in her manicured
hands while her husband paced the room.
"What am I going to do?" he asked her for the fourth time in an hour.
"I had- I never realized-I-I-" she stammered helplessly.
"All of those innocent people," he said in a stunned voice. "All of those
worlds. Hundreds of thousands of lives. Perhaps millions...Why didn't Bulma tell
us this before?"
"Perhaps...perhaps she didn't know..."
"She knew," he grumbled. There was a hard edge to his voice that was rare
for him. "She didn't tell us because she knew I'd never have permitted him here.
She deliberately lied to us both."
"Oh dear. Oh-oh dear! He's such a quiet young man. I-I had no idea-"
"All of those people," Dr. Briefs said in a soft, wounded voice. "I've
sheltered a butcher in my house."
Bulma's mother released a shriek and pressed herself against the backrest
of her chair, pointing up. Whirling, her husband looked to the open balcony that
overlooked the living room and saw Vegeta standing there, silently watching
them.
Deliberately, the alien descended the stairs, his dark, slanted eyes never
leaving Dr. Briefs sweating face. He walked over to them and assumed his usual
cross-armed stance. "I demand to know what it is you're babbling about," he said
brusquely.
For a long moment the elderly man could only stare at him before he
straightened his spine and announced, "Yamcha told us everything."
Vegeta's eyes narrowed in hate. "...Yamcha."
"You never told me that the technology you're copying over are from worlds
whose race you personally exterminated."
"Not all of it is-"
"But you don't deny that you have killed on such a vast scale-"
"It was my job."
"-And that you enjoyed it."
"Everybody needs a hobby," he responded with his characteristic arrogance.
That mocking little smirk was back on his face at the memory.
It was the wrong thing to say. Bulma's mother released a trembling sob at
the ruthless humor on the Saiyan's face while Dr. Briefs noticeably paled.
"Vegeta," was all he could get out.
Beginning to lose his patience, Vegeta told him in a rough voice, "I owe
you no explanations for my past, old man. I resent you trying to preach Earth
morals to me. The rules of this pathetic world don't apply to my superior
breed!"
"That's where you're wrong," Dr. Briefs assured him. He was past his fear
now, responding to his familial responsibilities that he allowed to loosen far
too much. It was time to reel in the slack. "As long as you are under this roof,
you will have to comply to my rules."
"And haven't I been doing that?" he shot back. "Who have I killed since
I've been here? What damage have I caused? I've willingly prostituted myself to
you in exchange for your generosity. What more can I do to prove my intentions?"
Of the two, it was Mrs. Briefs who heard the pleading timbre to his rare
confessional. She reached towards her husband with a trembling hand and
attempted, "Maybe...I think we all need to just sit down for a minute..."
"I want you to stay away from Bulma," the Scientist told him in a low
voice, his heavy brows furrowed together. "I suppose I'll have to tolerate your
presence in my home so long as you continue to toe the line but my daughter is
off-limits to you. Is that understood?"
The Saiyan's face darkened at the unvoiced threat, not taking kindly to
being given an order. It appeared that the friendly old man who had referred to
him with that disarming word of 'son' was gone. In its place was something that
Vegeta was intimately familiar with; hostility, hatred, resentment. He glanced
over to Bulma's mother and watched as she dropped her eyes and shivered under
his probing stare. Oh yes, he saw another emotion there he recognized all too
well.
Terror.
"What's it going to be, Vegeta?" Dr. Briefs pressed.
"Idiots! You've let yourselves be swayed by the words of a jealous human.
You know nothing!"
"What-is-it-going-to-be?" the older man demanded.
Vegeta's hands were clenched into tight fists by his sides, the
fingernails digging into his palms and drawing blood. The pain helped him to
snap out of his rage before he did something unforgivable. Of the two, he ended
up dropping his eyes first. "Fine," he spat. "I never encouraged the woman's
attentions to begin with. You better make sure that she stays out of my way."
"I plan to," Dr. Briefs assured him. He felt absolutely no sense of
accomplishment when the alien gave an infuriated exhale of breath and prowled
for the nearest exit.
"Oh! And Vegeta!" he called after him.
A part of the Saiyan that was dimming rapidly was hoping for a change of
heart, some kind word that might possibly soothe over this terrible
confrontation. He half-turned and looked over his shoulder at the man who,
before this, had nothing but kind words and praise for him.
A mistake, he thought to himself. He'll apologize, excuse himself for
being a stupid, old fool and say it was all a mistake. "What is it?" he asked,
trying to keep the hope out of his voice.
"You're fired," Dr. Briefs said coldly.
---------------------------------------------------------- --------------------
(**) FYI: A story of this adventure, titled; "A TALE OF TWO TAILS" has been
posted at the same time as this chapter. Caution: It is NC-17 for its sexual
content. It was originally going to be a flashback but I felt that it ruined the
flow of what I was trying to accomplish with "FROM BAD TO WORSE..." and turned
it into a separate tale. Sorry for any inconvenience.
NEXT CHAPTER TO BE POSTED ON SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2001. If you want to be put
on the mailing list to be personally notified when new chapters or stories are
posted simply e-mail your request to: darke_angelus@hotmail.com
Chapter Seven: The battlelines are drawn and all of Capsule Corp. becomes
involved in the conflict. What will be Vegeta's reaction? Fight or Flight?
has not gone unnoticed by a very angry Yamcha. He confronts her about her
feelings for the Saiyan that parts the past lovers on a bitter note.
----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------
FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Six
Bulma didn't want to go into the house where she might run into her mother
who would comment on her distress. Instead, she chose to head back to her office
and slammed the door. She was about to sit in front of her computer when she
glanced at her desk and released a startled gasp of surprise.
There were two new blueprints lying over the cluttered surface. Picking
one up in confusion, Bulma stared at it in amazement when she recognized the
handwriting almost immediately. "I'll be damned..."
She left her office and went down the hall to the drafting department. The
door was partially ajar and all of the lights were still on. When she peered
inside all of her previous animosity and resentment went out of her in a rush.
Smiling broadly, she slipped away as silently as she came in.
>>>>>
After losing his temper with Bulma in the park the previous morning,
Vegeta had felt absolutely no sense of accomplishment when he had left her
behind. When he had spent the remainder of the day in the simulator, the hurt on
her face had plagued at him, interfering with his concentration. He rationalized
that it was normal for her to be curious about him. What human wouldn't be? He
should have been flattered by the attention so why was it such a damn bother!
The Briefs woman appeared trustworthy with no motive behind her probing
questions other than an insistent curiosity that was almost childlike. He was so
used to having his back against the wall as he faced hatred for being a Saiyan,
he was unprepared for innocuous and simple unthreatening interest. Vegeta
realized that it was a refreshing diversion to intercept questions rather than
insults. He didn't want that to change but he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted
to encourage it, either.
Late that evening during his usual struggle to sleep it dawned on him how
he could possibly make it up to her. Bulma had been surrounded by athletic male
figures for all of her life. Displays of power or physical effort meant nothing
to her. He had observed her excitement when she had been in front of her
computer entering the data that he had written down for her. That was the key
right there and he got out of bed, got dressed and went downstairs to the
drafting room where he stayed for the rest of the night.
He was stretched out on the couch in the department with an arm over his
eyes to shut out the light. A clipboard was lying on his chest, a pencil loosely
clenched in one hand. At somewhere around five in the morning, he had taken a
break to puzzle out a computation that seemed to elude him and had finally
succumbed to his exhaustion.
The heady smell of coffee slowly brought him around and when he opened his
eyes he realized he had fallen asleep. It was now light outside and Bulma was
standing over him holding a mug of coffee in each hand, still wearing her
jogging clothes.
"What time is it?" he asked, sitting up and accepting the proffered
beverage.
"Almost eight."
He rubbed his burning eyes with a grimace. "Shit. Give me a few minutes
and I'll get changed-"
"That's alright. I just got back." She decided it would be for the best if
she left out Yamcha's participation. "If it's any consolation, it's not the same
running without you. I missed your biting sarcasm."
"Thanks, I think," he grumbled, drinking his coffee and suddenly scowled
into the mug. "What is this? De-caf?"
"You're hyper enough as it is," she said in amusement.
"Not this morning, I'm not."
Looking at him more closely as he nursed his drink, she watched as he
visibly struggled to snap out of his daze. "I'm worried that you may not be
getting enough sleep. Is there something wrong?"
He got to his feet with a grunt and wandered over to the drafting table.
"Have you seen the designs I left on your desk?"
She hated it when he changed the subject with such obvious scorn. "I took
a glance at them but Vegeta-"
"I recalled an exhaust system that Frieza's scientists had been
dissecting," he told her. "It recycled the external combustion and powered all
of the electrical systems in a closed-circuit exchange-"
"Vegeta, you're babbling."
He glared at her levelly. "I don't babble. I thought the schematics would
interest you."
"The design is intriguing," she said honestly. "Right now I'd sooner talk
to you about-"
"Bah! Why did I even bother?!" he shouted and suddenly kicked over the
drafting table in anger.
Jumping out of the way, Bulma looked at him in confusion. "Vegeta! What's
the matter with you?"
"You! You're the matter!" He screamed at her, throwing the mug against the
nearest wall. His blue ki erupted around him without his being aware of it. "I
get up in the morning - YOU'RE THERE! I leave the simulator - YOU'RE THERE!
Everywhere I turn - YOU'RE THERE! Now I can't even sleep at night without you
intruding in my dreams. You. Are. Driving. Me. CRAZY!!"
Bulma had been entirely oblivious that she'd had any kind of an affect on
him. He was such a master of concealing his emotions that this crazed confession
took her entirely by surprise. The two regarded one another through a wall of
tension until she confessed to him in a small voice, "I haven't been sleeping
very well either. I've been dreaming about you, too."
Confusion replaced the rage on his face. Eventually he dropped his self-
protective shield of energy and only stood in front of her, utterly defenseless.
"What does that mean?"
She cleared the distance and took one of his hands into her own. It was
surprisingly smooth as she traced the lines on his palm with a fingernail. If he
wanted to, he could grind the bones of her delicate fingers into dust but when
she squeezed his hand, he gently squeezed back. She smiled when she looked into
his strange eyes and reached towards his face.
Shying away from her touch he backed away from her uneasily, his features
tensened in alarm. "Don't..."
Hesitating, Bulma saw what could be mistaken as distrust in his demeanor.
There was something more revealed in his usually guarded eyes that she was privy
to view. The Saiyan's conduct was like an animal in a shelter that had been so
badly abused in its life that it could no longer decipher cruelty from
compassion. Sadly, it was the type of animal that was always deemed
untrustworthy and inexorably put out of its misery. The depth of fear and
indecision in his black gaze wounded her. She resolved that she would not give
up on him so easily.
"I won't hurt you. Don't you trust me? Just a little bit?" she murmured,
her soul aching from the apparent wariness of such a simple offering.
He stood his ground and permitted the contact, but only barely. His
muscles were coiled up like springs and she knew that he was close to bolting.
The tips of her fingers gently traced the minute scars on his face; some faded
by years and barely noticeable, others more recent. There was so much pain
etched into his hardened features that her heart bled and her eyes swam with
remorseful tears. With a sound like a sob, she closed her lips over his own.
She got no response. His mouth remained tense and hard against hers. He
looked into her face searching for deception or a possible ruse he was so used
to confronting but her face was relaxed and her eyes, oh Gods! her eyes...
implored him to share what she so freely wanted to offer him. With a weary sigh,
he gradually yielded to her gentle insistence. They finally shared a tender,
brief kiss before resting their foreheads against one another and looking into
each other's eyes.
"Does that help answer your question?" she whispered.
When she touched his face again this time he relaxed against her palm, a
smile flickered across his features at the warm contact. It was so fleeting that
Bulma wouldn't have caught it if their faces hadn't been so close to one
another. But it had been a smile nonetheless.
"It answers one but only creates others," he spoke up at last. His voice
had dropped to a low, throaty tone that raised gooseflesh on her arms. She could
imagine hearing that voice in the dark of night while he was atop of her.
Urgently, she pressed her body against him. He cast a bewildered glance around
the room, looking very different than his self-assured cockiness. He looked
completely out of his element. Slowly, his muscular arms encircled her slight
frame, completing the embrace she had begun. More to himself, he commented,
"What happens now?"
Bulma was carefully composing her answer when there was the distant
exchange of voices as the morning staff arrived for their shift. Vegeta
stiffened against her and stepped back before they could be seen together. The
wall of suppressed emotions was back up and he walked over and lifted the heavy
drafting table back to it previous position. He took down the unfinished
blueprint and rolled it up into a tube as he looked anxiously at her. "I'll
finish this up later..."
"Sure. Sure, Vegeta. Try to get some rest today, okay?"
He opened his mouth to respond when Charles McNeal poked his head inside
of the room and said cheerfully, "Good morning, you two. What a beautiful day!"
"Get out of my way, you idiot," Vegeta snapped as he sidestepped around
the man to leave.
The scientist watched him go without comment. Dr. Briefs had lectured his
staff when the Saiyan had first arrived about the man's moodiness and to not
provoke him at any costs. Until the communications chip had been introduced to
their workload, the staff had figured the little guy to be a psycho. Now, he was
just regarded as a temperamental genius.
"Morning, Charles," Bulma greeted absently as she kept her eye on the
door. Her heart was still racing from that small kiss and the feel of Vegeta's
arms around her body. It had just felt so right-! She had to submerge a shiver
of excitement.
His eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled at her. "Did someone change
the dress code the last time I was here? Rowf!"
She knew his was referring to her too-tight jogging ensemble and blushed.
"I'm going to my office. When you see dad tell him I've got something to show
him."
Charles' eyes brightened like a kid on Christmas morning. He had seen
Vegeta carrying a blueprint in one fist. "Is...ah, he going to like it?"
"I think we all will."
"Hot damn! I don't know where you found this guy but he sure is job
security!" the scientist yelled in rising excitement. "Hey, is it true that you
two are-"
"Just pass along the message, okay?" Bulma reminded him with a slanted
smile. When she was halfway down the hall she could hear Charles mutter; "What
the hell? That was my favorite mug. Sonofabitch!"
Covering her mouth, she managed to hold in her laughter until she was was
in her office. Leaning against the closed door, she let it all out until her
peels of giggles almost resembled hysterics.
>>>>>
Vegeta was NOT laughing.
When he returned to his room he quickly discovered that there wasn't
enough cold water in the world to get his mind off of the feel of Bulma's body
against his own, the taste of her lips, the smell of her hair-
"Oh, god-DAMN it!" he shouted into the chilling spray. He stayed there
until he started shivering and then paced around the room like a caged beast
wondering what he could do. Even his supposedly talented, uncommunicative
fingers weren't enough to stave off the edge to his desire. This game of
flirtatious glances and touches was going to be the death of him. Didn't she
realize he was trying to concentrate on his training?
I'm acting like a Low Caste Saiyan in his first rut, he thought in despair
as he sat on the corner of the bed with his head in his hands. There was no
logic to what he was feeling; the intensity of his attraction for the blue-
haired female was overpowering, clouding all other reason. He had never felt
anything like this before. He figured that it might have something to do with
the fact he hadn't coupled with a woman since before Radditz's death on Earth.
Wracking his brain for a precise date he realized that was over two years ago.
It had been with some blue-skinned amazon he had never learned the name to. They
had both been between missions on Frieza's warship and had made out in a
weapon's storage locker. It had been one hell of wild ride...(*FYIbelow*)
A raunchy grin came to his face before he submerged the memory with
difficulty. It wasn't helping the situation any by thinking about past conquests
and he didn't want to have to go running back to the shower. He looked over at
his exercise clothes and sighed. It looked like he was going to be beating his
brains out in the simulator today after all.
Yamcha came back from the run and waited around in the courtyard for
Vegeta to show up. Whether it would be a verbal confrontation or a physical one,
the younger fighter didn't care. Even Paur had settled into the background in a
mood close to a wounded sulk because Yamcha refused to listen to the cat's words
of reason.
Hearing movement behind him, Yamcha whirled and saw the Saiyan jump to the
ground from his own quarters and enter the gravity simulator, locking the door
after him. The red warning lights of a training session in progress came on
almost immediately.
"Damn it," he said under his breath, realizing that the alien had been
inside the damn building the entire time he had been outside waiting for him to
show. He was about to fly off and return to his apartment when he saw Dr. Briefs
peddling around the grounds doing his morning inventory before going inside to
work. Now that the nosy Saiyan wasn't anywhere within earshot, Yamcha
intercepted the aged man, betting that cooler heads would prevail with the
information he had to share.
"Hey, Doctor Briefs. Can I have a word with you?" he asked with a smile.
>>>>>
It was the sound of shouting that called a premature end to his training
session, as Vegeta powered down the simulator to see what the hell all of the
commotion was about. He had become almost as accustomed to recognizing Bulma's
excruciating pitches of voice as he was to rogue ki levels. That sound of stress
in the woman's tone didn't make him hurry his pace as he exited the capsule,
though. He was just relieved that it appeared as if someone else were the
recipient of her rage instead of himself for a change. The irritation on his
face lessened when he heard Yamcha's voice attempting (without much success) to
break into the tirade.
Coming around the south side of the complex, Vegeta levitated to the roof
of the headquarters building and stayed low. Bulma and Yamcha were in each
other's faces and oblivious to spectators but Paur was doing fretful circles
around the pair and the Saiyan knew that the irritating creature had a keen eye.
Lying on his stomach, he propped his head up with one arm and proceeded to watch
the show.
Stamping a short distance away, Bulma was starting to wind down when she
said, "We were together for over ten years and NOW you're trying to tell me that
you know what you want. I don't buy it."
"Those other women meant nothing to me. I've always loved you. You know
that, Bulma."
"You sure have had a strange way of showing it."
"I was immature. I've...I've changed. AT least let me prove it to you. I
told you this morning during that jog that I know how to treat you right-"
On the roof, Vegeta's amused smirk dropped as if he'd received a slap in
the face. Bulma had made no mention that she had gone for a run with him. His
fingers sank into the dense concrete down to the second knuckle before he reined
his strength back in.
"-And I told you that if it had been anybody other than Vegeta, you
wouldn't be acting like such an ass!" Bulma yelled back, getting her second
wind. "Honestly, how could you do such a thing behind my back, Yamcha?"
"Me? How about you? That little shit as much as killed me and you turned
around and chased after him like a bitch in heat!"
She moved in with deceptive speed and slapped him so hard across the face
that his head actually swung with the blow. Vegeta should have been amused but
it was dawning on him that this was something far more serious than an old
lover's quarrel.
"That was nasty," she hissed.
Yamcha slowly turned to look at her, the left-hand side of his face
flushing pink. "The truth hurts, doesn't it? All of those people in East city
who died when he first showed up. All of those innocent Nameks and countless
other races that he's exterminated. And here you are just dying to spread your
legs-"
Spitting in fury, she dove in and this time he caught her arm and pulled
her in close. "He's going to kill you, Bulma. Maybe not now while you still
amuse him but eventually he'll get bored of you and your family and do away with
you all. And he'll be laughing when he does it."
On the rooftop, Vegeta had indeed been aiming his index and middle fingers
at Yamcha's neck just above the shoulder blades and drew them in quickly at the
fighters harsh words before he fired. His teeth were clenched together so hard
in his rage that his jaws ached.
Tears were starting to course down her face. First that bitch in the park
and now Yamcha- Nobody understood! How dare they vent their opinions about a
person they didn't even know? All Bulma could think about was that pitiful way
that Vegeta had cringed from her touch in the drafting department. Prior to her
gentle caress, a hand to the face had meant an incoming punch. Pain was
something the Saiyan knew all too well and no one wanted to give her the chance
to show him that there were far more pleasurable sensations to look forward to.
"I keep telling you he's changed!" she sobbed. "You just can't see it because
you're too blinded by hate to-to-"
"You're the one who's blind here, Bulma," Yamcha cut in when her words
faltered. "I know you have a trusting heart like your mothers' but this time
it's telling you the wrong things. Vegeta-is-evil. I know you don't want it on
your conscience when he finally reverts back to his old ways. He's no better
than Frieza. Creatures like him never change, they-"
Vegeta had heard enough.
If he listened to any more of Yamcha's bullshit the fighters' prophecy
would come true even sooner than he thought. Sliding down the incline of the
building, Vegeta stopped when he reached the third level and slipped inside his
quarters. At a rare loss, he decided that the only thing he could possibly do
would be to lie low and wait for the fight to blow over. He would sooner join in
the argument and tell the bastard where he could put his stupid accusations but
he knew he would only lose his temper and the results would be devastating.
Bulma would track him down soon enough and he wanted it to happen on a full
stomach. He pulled on a shirt and set a course for the kitchen, which was about
the only refuge on this entire miserable planet that he had left.
Downstairs in the living room Dr. Briefs and his wife were exchanging
another terse exchange. It was rare when Mrs. Briefs' usual harried manner was
cowed but at the moment she was fitfully wrestling a tea towel in her manicured
hands while her husband paced the room.
"What am I going to do?" he asked her for the fourth time in an hour.
"I had- I never realized-I-I-" she stammered helplessly.
"All of those innocent people," he said in a stunned voice. "All of those
worlds. Hundreds of thousands of lives. Perhaps millions...Why didn't Bulma tell
us this before?"
"Perhaps...perhaps she didn't know..."
"She knew," he grumbled. There was a hard edge to his voice that was rare
for him. "She didn't tell us because she knew I'd never have permitted him here.
She deliberately lied to us both."
"Oh dear. Oh-oh dear! He's such a quiet young man. I-I had no idea-"
"All of those people," Dr. Briefs said in a soft, wounded voice. "I've
sheltered a butcher in my house."
Bulma's mother released a shriek and pressed herself against the backrest
of her chair, pointing up. Whirling, her husband looked to the open balcony that
overlooked the living room and saw Vegeta standing there, silently watching
them.
Deliberately, the alien descended the stairs, his dark, slanted eyes never
leaving Dr. Briefs sweating face. He walked over to them and assumed his usual
cross-armed stance. "I demand to know what it is you're babbling about," he said
brusquely.
For a long moment the elderly man could only stare at him before he
straightened his spine and announced, "Yamcha told us everything."
Vegeta's eyes narrowed in hate. "...Yamcha."
"You never told me that the technology you're copying over are from worlds
whose race you personally exterminated."
"Not all of it is-"
"But you don't deny that you have killed on such a vast scale-"
"It was my job."
"-And that you enjoyed it."
"Everybody needs a hobby," he responded with his characteristic arrogance.
That mocking little smirk was back on his face at the memory.
It was the wrong thing to say. Bulma's mother released a trembling sob at
the ruthless humor on the Saiyan's face while Dr. Briefs noticeably paled.
"Vegeta," was all he could get out.
Beginning to lose his patience, Vegeta told him in a rough voice, "I owe
you no explanations for my past, old man. I resent you trying to preach Earth
morals to me. The rules of this pathetic world don't apply to my superior
breed!"
"That's where you're wrong," Dr. Briefs assured him. He was past his fear
now, responding to his familial responsibilities that he allowed to loosen far
too much. It was time to reel in the slack. "As long as you are under this roof,
you will have to comply to my rules."
"And haven't I been doing that?" he shot back. "Who have I killed since
I've been here? What damage have I caused? I've willingly prostituted myself to
you in exchange for your generosity. What more can I do to prove my intentions?"
Of the two, it was Mrs. Briefs who heard the pleading timbre to his rare
confessional. She reached towards her husband with a trembling hand and
attempted, "Maybe...I think we all need to just sit down for a minute..."
"I want you to stay away from Bulma," the Scientist told him in a low
voice, his heavy brows furrowed together. "I suppose I'll have to tolerate your
presence in my home so long as you continue to toe the line but my daughter is
off-limits to you. Is that understood?"
The Saiyan's face darkened at the unvoiced threat, not taking kindly to
being given an order. It appeared that the friendly old man who had referred to
him with that disarming word of 'son' was gone. In its place was something that
Vegeta was intimately familiar with; hostility, hatred, resentment. He glanced
over to Bulma's mother and watched as she dropped her eyes and shivered under
his probing stare. Oh yes, he saw another emotion there he recognized all too
well.
Terror.
"What's it going to be, Vegeta?" Dr. Briefs pressed.
"Idiots! You've let yourselves be swayed by the words of a jealous human.
You know nothing!"
"What-is-it-going-to-be?" the older man demanded.
Vegeta's hands were clenched into tight fists by his sides, the
fingernails digging into his palms and drawing blood. The pain helped him to
snap out of his rage before he did something unforgivable. Of the two, he ended
up dropping his eyes first. "Fine," he spat. "I never encouraged the woman's
attentions to begin with. You better make sure that she stays out of my way."
"I plan to," Dr. Briefs assured him. He felt absolutely no sense of
accomplishment when the alien gave an infuriated exhale of breath and prowled
for the nearest exit.
"Oh! And Vegeta!" he called after him.
A part of the Saiyan that was dimming rapidly was hoping for a change of
heart, some kind word that might possibly soothe over this terrible
confrontation. He half-turned and looked over his shoulder at the man who,
before this, had nothing but kind words and praise for him.
A mistake, he thought to himself. He'll apologize, excuse himself for
being a stupid, old fool and say it was all a mistake. "What is it?" he asked,
trying to keep the hope out of his voice.
"You're fired," Dr. Briefs said coldly.
---------------------------------------------------------- --------------------
(**) FYI: A story of this adventure, titled; "A TALE OF TWO TAILS" has been
posted at the same time as this chapter. Caution: It is NC-17 for its sexual
content. It was originally going to be a flashback but I felt that it ruined the
flow of what I was trying to accomplish with "FROM BAD TO WORSE..." and turned
it into a separate tale. Sorry for any inconvenience.
NEXT CHAPTER TO BE POSTED ON SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2001. If you want to be put
on the mailing list to be personally notified when new chapters or stories are
posted simply e-mail your request to: darke_angelus@hotmail.com
Chapter Seven: The battlelines are drawn and all of Capsule Corp. becomes
involved in the conflict. What will be Vegeta's reaction? Fight or Flight?