Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Girl Next Door ❯ 01 Grinchmas ( Chapter 2 )

NB: Based on chapter 1, `Legitimate Question' of the “Girl Next Door” (aka FriendsAU) comic by stupidoomdoodles.

Girl Next Door

01- Grinchmas

Vegeta had barely entered the hallway when he was accosted. He was leaving his apartment at the same time the annoying blue haired girl next door was returning to hers, still dusted in snow and rosy-cheeked from the mid December weather. He cursed himself for not having waited 30 more seconds, but Lady Luck or Life or whatever you wanted to call it liked to fuck with him every chance it got, so he really shouldn't have been surprised. He stood there and let it happen, just like the last half a dozen times, hoping it would be over and done with quickly.

“HI NEIGHBOR!” She greeted way too enthusiastically, coming right up into his personal bubble. Not just his outer bubble mind you, which extended in a six foot radius around him, reinforced by a bad attitude and protected with a murderous glare (and murderous intent if need be), but no, this was his own personal, private bubble that was being invaded, something even a dumb fuck like Raditz knew better than to get on up into (most of the time, anyway). And yet here she was, in it. In fact, she had her dainty little hands on his goddamn chest and was excitedly breathing out little puffs of warm air between them in the frigid cold, smelling of cinnamon hot chocolate, her shockingly blue eyes twinkling at him like some goddamn Disney character about to burst into song.

He really, really wished he could say it was the first time she'd been all up in his space, but it sadly wasn't; whoever this chick was, she didn't seem to value privacy or personal boundaries in the slightest. Her fingers were clinging to his sweatshirt and he barely refrained from flinching away, holding her back in a desperate attempt to keep at least a couple of inches of decency between them. “Hi, crazy person who keeps running into my arms for no reasons,” he grouched at her meaningfully, hoping she'd take the hint.

She didn't.

“Say, Vegeta,” she said, and it startled him that she knew his name before he remembered having begrudgingly given it to her on one of their previous ill fated encounters, and he should probably have felt guilty that he didn't remember hers, but mostly he felt annoyed because it was like she had something on him now and that put him at a disadvantage and Vegeta loathed, despised, being at a disadvantage. “Since we became friends in the last few weeks-”

“More like acquaintances, really,” he amended caustically, bristling at her presumptuousness and her nearness.

“SUPER BEST ACQUAINTANCES, yes,” she enthused without missing a beat. Fuck, did nothing rattle her? “How about you join me and my friends for this Christmas?”

Wait, she wanted him to what now? “Uh- what's that?” he asked.

“My Christmas party,” she said, thinking he'd simply misheard. “Would you like to join it?”

Now he was more confused, and a little horrified, to think she was inviting him to some kind of party. He gave her an aggravated sneer, wondering if he should even bother asking her to explain herself because that would mean talking to her more, but he was little offended she was flinging around words as if he was supposed to know what they meant, and that just wasn't polite. “No, I mean, what's a christmas?”

She laughed as if he'd told a droll joke, her face crinkling cutely. Wait, that's… not what he'd meant. Not cutely, more like, annoyingly. Mockingly. Stupidly. Yeah…

He waited for her to stop laughing.

Her smile started to wilt at the edges when she realized he wasn't joking. “…Vegeta, are you secretly an alien?” she asked, still trying to sound positive.

“Uh?!” The hell?! And that's when he realized that this christmas business was one of those things that he was supposed to know.

Fuck. Fuck.

He felt his face pull down into an agitated scowl. His mind was flashing alarm sirens screaming DANGER, DANGER, ABORT, ABORT and he wondered if he could gather the shards of this conversation and save it before it took an even further drastic nose dive into awkward. He was drawing attention to himself and that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to be doing.

“No,” he snapped, and when he saw her blink in alarm and he remembered how absolutely dense the woman could be, he explained further. “I don't do parties.” Then he bodily removed her from his path by her arms, gently but firmly pushing her to the side of the hallway, and continued on his way, ignoring the burning feeling of her gaze on his back as he left down the stairs.

Crisis averted, for now at least. Shit. She was starting to become troublesome. He might have to talk to Frieza about arranging a new hideout but then, that would require talking to Frieza wouldn't it, and Vegeta made real fucking sure he did that as little as possible. Besides, Frieza would just insist he kill her, and she didn't really deserve that. She was just annoying and overly friendly, and he'd rather not have the smell of cinnamon hot chocolate forever remind him of big, blue, fearful eyes staring up at him right before he snapped her neck, because he'd give her that at least, a quick, clean death.

He wasn't a monster after all.

As he headed outside to the local grocery store to pick up some supplies, he felt the irritation of her conversation linger with him. He thumbed his cell phone, contemplating calling Nappa or Raditz, but Raditz would probably make fun of him and Nappa might pity him or worse, report it to Frieza, and Vegeta really didn't need to deal with any of that shit or have to listen to them harp on about it for the next 10 months. He was a big boy, he could figure this out for himself.

Vegeta stepped into the hole in the wall shop where he knew the security camera was only there for show, and picked up a basket and started shoving things into it haphazardly. He drifted past the card section and something caught his eye and for the first time in his life, he actually stopped to look at what Hallmark had to offer.

Christmas.

There it was, staring him right in the fucking face in all it's red and green glory, cards decorated with fat men and reindeer and trees and stars and angels and shepherds and a slew of other shit, the same shit he realized now was plastered over a lot of the food products with Happy Holidays and Seasons Greetings scrawled over it.

Oh, so this was Christmas. It was that winter festival, holiday, event thing, whatever. Fuck, he knew what this was… kind of. He just hadn't known the name.

Stupid smug know-it-all cow, why hadn't she said that from the beginning?

Even more irritated because it should have been so obvious what she'd been on about, Vegeta stomped past the cards and finished cramming things into his basket, angrily avoiding anything with christmas embellishments out of spite. As he paid for his items and picked up his bags, the cashier actually bade him, “Merry Christmas.”

Vegeta stalled and looked at him, aghast.

“Or Hanukkah or whatever, man,” the cashier added, seeing the disgusted look on Vegeta's face.

Vegeta's eyebrows continued to rise, hearing yet another word he had no fucking idea about, and he wasn't about to jump down that rabbit hole so he left before the man could spout any other new terminology and Vegeta put his fist through something, probably the cashier's face.

This was fucking ridiculous. It had been a loooong time since he'd been in this boat, dealing with the repercussions of his upbringing. He thought he was over it. The last time he'd had to live down the result of a deficient childhood had been from a conversation between Raditz and Nappa over who would win a fight between Batman and Wolverine, and Vegeta had asked which gangs they'd belonged to. He still hadn't lived that one down yet.

Assholes.

Like it was somehow his fault that he'd had what you could kindly call, an unconventional upbringing. He'd been raised away from the modern world. Far, far away from it. Vegeta didn't even have a legitimate birth certificate, except for the one fabricated for him when he'd needed travel documents. He had grown up a ghost, first sheltered by his father, and when Frieza had seen the end of that, Vegeta had later been sent abroad and passed around various underground child militant training institutions, and put on missions that had always kept him on the very fringes of society. His whole life he had grown up in the shadows, devoid of pop culture and TV, of school and friends, and certainly of things like birthdays and Christmases. There was no place for that in his life and he was glad for it. Proud of it. All those things were pointless, just useless distractions that would get you killed because how did watching music videos or knowing who an X-Man was help you kill a political leader, or shake someone down, or help fill your belly when there was only enough food for one but there were three other sets of hungry eyes in the room with you, waiting to end your existence over a measly chicken wing? The answer was, it didn't.

So then why are you so fucking bothered about this Christmas bullshit?

He didn't know, but he was. Perhaps because it was the first time he'd been made to feel stupid in front of someone who wasn't a) now dead or b) fucking Nappa or Raditz. Or maybe because this wasn't just some latest fad that he'd failed to pay attention to, but an international fucking holiday, and a mistake like that could have been disastrous, possibly deadly if it had given him away, coming up in front of the wrong people instead of a harmless, well meaning if nosey neighbor.

Or maybe, and he was only spitballing here, but maybe it was because he kind of wanted to know what actually happened at a christmas party. Or… any party, for that matter.

Just so he could mock them more accurately, of course.

Vegeta shoved his hands as far into his pockets as they'd go and stomped back through the snow to his apartment. He looked down the hall to where her place was, and felt himself sneer when he saw a green wreath hanging on her door.

Fucking Christmas. Who needed it?

He slammed his door shut, threw his grocery bags into the refrigerator without even sorting them, and then checked in with Nappa to see if anyone needed their kneecaps removed, because he was feeling suddenly very obliging to help.

When he got home, his knuckles still bloodied, but his heart feeling lighter for the pain he'd inflicted, Vegeta came to a sudden halt. Hanging rather innocuously from his front door's handle was a plastic bag. He'd received no word about expecting any deliveries.

Instantly wary, he glanced around but the hallway was empty. He reached behind him, carefully pulling out his piece and flicking off the safety. He held the gun down as he slowly approached his door, keeping his eyes peeled for any surprises.

Gingerly, he hooked a finger into the bag and pulled it open, just a crack, to peer inside. He scowled at what he saw, and for a moment, he was very confused.

And then he was really annoyed.

No, wait. He was pissed.

He reset his gun's safety and shoved it back into his pants at the small of his back before snatching the bag up and stomping over to her door. He banged on it loudly.

She opened up shortly after, peering through the doorway with large, innocent eyes.

“The fuck is this?” he demanded, shoving the bag in her face before she could greet him, before she could use his name against him.

She looked at the bag and smiled. “Oh that? It's a present.”

He could feel his hand start to tremble in fury. “A what?”

She gave him a pitying look. “Oh my god, do you not know what a present is either?”

He was nearly at his limit, his metaphorical top nearly blown. Vegeta could feel the fury and humiliation and unbridled rage overwhelm him and it was all he could do not to take it out on her. He shoved the bag at her, forcing her to take it. “I DON'T NEED IT. I KNOW WHAT A CHRISTMAS IS!” he said, seething with indignation.

She hugged the bag to her chest, arching a delicate blue brow at him, not buying it, and for some odd reason, not intimidated either. “-A- christmas?” she asked condescendingly, leaning casually in the doorway, watching him with growing amusement.

He gripped the doorframe to contain himself from gripping her throat. “However many there are! You know what, Blue? I don't fucking care. Stay out of my business if you know what's good for you.”

“But it comes with a free advent calendar,” she protested, completely dismissing his threat.

He bared his teeth at her, barely refraining from growling.

She pulled something out of the bag to show him. “See? It has chocolate inside.”

“I don't ne-… inside what, how? It's a calendar!” he spluttered indignantly.

She smirked, seeing she had piqued his interest. “No, look, it's really cool. Every day of the month has these little windows you can pop open, and each one has some candy inside. Fun, huh? You use it to count down to Christmas, which, as we both know you're an expert on.”

Vegeta looked up at her from under his brow, his glower filled with death and brimstone.

She smiled back at him sweetly. “And because it's nearly Christmas, you can pop open a whole bunch of them already. But if you don't want it…” She drawled, and then had the gall to open the first pocket on the cardboard calendar that was supposed to be his, revealing the number 1 and a small piece of candy. She popped it into her mouth and made a happy, satisfied sound. “Mmm!”

Vegeta felt a vein throb on his temple, and he snatched the calendar out of her hands. “Do you mind?” he asked her, incredulous.

Her eyes danced wickedly. He glared at her before looking down at the stupid calendar box. He popped open the next window, revealing a 2 and a new piece of candy. Well, it was novel, he had to give the calendar that; there were certainly worse ways to count down the days, that was for sure, he would know. He wasn't really into sweets if he was being honest, but she'd already eaten one, and was practically daring him not to, waiting to see him chicken out, and there was no way he was going to back out of challenge and be bested by some busybody tomboy.

He popped the chocolate into his mouth and swallowed without tasting it.

She grimaced, giving him a concerned look, watching him swallow the chocolate as if it were medicine.

He sneered at her in satisfaction. Challenge met, motherfucker.

“So, about my party,” she started to say.

Vegeta scowled at her. “No.” Why was he even still standing here with her?

“Why not?” she protested. “You don't have to do anything. Just come, say hi, eat some ham…”

Ham, there was meat involved? Okay, maybe it wasn't such a terrible id-

“Sing some carols.”

“I'm busy,” he said flatly, and started to leave. He didn't know what carols were, but if it involved singing, he was out.

“You're busy on christmas?” she called after him, sounding skeptical.

“Yes,” he snapped. Not totally a lie. He was busy almost every day, why not Christmas?

“And what day is that again?” she asked him, her tone oh so fucking smug he wanted to slap her.

Vegeta felt his shoulders stiffen, knowing he'd been caught. He had no fucking idea. He could continue to his room and just ignore her, but that would be tantamount to admitting defeat and then she might never shut up about this damn party or christmas or anything else. His jaw worked furiously, his fingers clenching-

-Around the stupid calendar. He looked down at the box, and felt himself smirk in victory. He punched out the last window, a little candy rolling into his palm and the number 25 and a giant star greeted him. “The 25th,” he replied smugly, and he glanced at her to see her frown and cross her arms.

“That's cheating!” she called to him and he flashed her a wicked grin before he popped the candy into his mouth and continued towards his room. “And what about the rest of your present?”

“Fuck off, Blue,” he called over his shoulder, retreating to his apartment while he was still winning, leaving her standing in her doorway, still holding the bag with the Christmas for Dummies book inside.

He got back late. Traffic had been fucking horrendous, and Nappa had been driving like a goddamn granny in the sleet. He was cold, agitated, hungry and tired. As he stomped up the stairs he thought he heard music, something light and teeth achingly happy, and he hoped the walls of his apartment would block it out so he could get some goddamn peace and quiet.

Vegeta held out his keys for his door and then stepped back, seeing it was covered in festive decorations. It was the wrong door. Fuck, he hadn't been paying attention. He looked around to gather his bearings. Where the fuck was he, was he on the right floor? He couldn't see the apartment number for all the tinsel. He looked again and latched on to the green wreath on her door nearby.

Okay, what the hell. He was on the right floor, which meant…

Oh. Oh no…

He looked at his door again, his door, and paled at all the green and red and tinsel and baubles that cluttered the wood. In the middle, right there in the fucking middle of his door was a hand made sign painted in glitter glue that read, Merry Xmas Mister Grinch.

What the fuck was `xmas'?

And who the fuck was `Mister Grinch'?

Maybe you should have accepted that book after all.

Fuck off.

He snatched the sign off his door and brought it right to his face, seeing there was some green… monster looking thing with a gloomy scowl next to the name Grinch, and upon further inspection, the same green frowny face littered a lot of his door.

Vegeta tore everything down and crumpled it all up into one giant ball, which he then shoved deep, deep down into his trash once he got inside and slammed his door closed a little too loudly. He flopped onto his couch, throwing his arm over his eyes, and hissed out a sigh, scowling into the crook of his elbow as he pretended not to hear the party going on next door.

A while later, as he was finishing up from a shower, there was a knocking at his door. He glared at it, refusing to answer, refusing to even move. Anyone important enough would make themselves known, and everyone else could kindly fuck off and fuck themselves because he wasn't in the fucking mood.

The light rapping came again, dainty and uncertain, and he steeled himself, suddenly having a hunch of who it might be. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard something being placed by the door, followed by fading footsteps, and then a door down the hall open and close.

His fingers rapped on his folded arm angrily. With a huff through his nose, Vegeta approached his door, gingerly opening it, silently so as not to be heard, and glanced out. On his doorstep was a large plate of food wrapped in saran, with a little card perched on top. Checking to make sure nobody saw him, Vegeta scooped up the plate and took it inside, locking the door stealthily behind him. He flipped open the card.

“We had too much food, so help yourself. No hard feelings about the door, okay? Goku just got excited drawing the Grinch. Merry Christmas, ~Bulma.”

Bulma. It sounded vaguely familiar, probably from when she'd introduce herself but he hadn't bothered to remember because he'd thought, quite wrongly, that he wouldn't be dealing with his neighbors very much. He glanced at the plate, it was piled high with roasted meats and vegetables, and was still warm to the touch and was starting to fill his apartment with the most incredible smell…

One of the very first rules he'd learnt early on in life, was not to trust food that he didn't know the source of.

Vegeta picked up the plate and took it to his trash, where the christmas decorations he'd angrily balled up were starting to unfurl. He hovered the plate over the trashcan, hesitating.

Throw it in, you dickless cunt.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd almost eaten everything in his apartment, and fuck, if today was Christmas - which explained the traffic, and her party - then that meant all the goddamn stores and restaurants would be closed, wouldn't they, especially at this time of night. Fuck.

He looked at the plate, his face twisting, agonizing over the decision. He could almost see her smirking at him, amusement dancing in her eyes, watching him, daring him to throw out a perfectly good meal. Finally, fatalistically, Vegeta closed the trash lid and took the plate back to the table. He ripped off the saran wrap and pulled out one of the few forks he owned and stabbed it into a slab of ham, taking a giant bite, the meat dripping with juices and gravy and honeyed glaze.

And, oh…

Oh fuck. Fuck this was good. Holy shit! When was the last time he'd eaten anything that wasn't a prepackaged frozen meal or two-day old leftovers, when was the last time he'd enjoyed something so fucking good?

Any more hesitation over the source of his food was gone, because at this point if Vegeta was going to die of poison, then he figured it was as good a way to go as any.

He ate everything, everything, even licking the goddamn plate because fuck you he could, and then stared at the plate miserably afterwards, as if the emptiness of it somehow betrayed him.

And he looked right into a now familiar green frowning face which glared right back at him from the plate's surface, cursive text scrawled next to it, half faded from use.

“You're a mean one, Mr Grinch. You really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an eel, Mr Grinch.”

Vegeta stared, scowling at the words, but more than that, trying to fight back a rising dread as he realized he was now obliged to not only return the goddamn plate, but probably a sentiment of thanks for the food, and if he didn't, she'd probably hunt him out for it.

Oh, that cunning bitch.

Fucking Christmas. What a goddamn joke.

~~ox0xo~~

AN: If you enjoyed this, I'd love to hear your thoughts and read your comments. Feel free to check me out on batreon (with a P) or twitter/tumblr. Also look up Stupidoomdoodles, this AU is all because of her! You can find her work and leave her some love on twitter, tumblr or smackjeeves or better yet the place that rhymes with batreon.

DBZ owned by Akira Toriyama. This AU is stupidoomdoodle's idea. I'm just forever playing in their sandboxes. You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch was written by Theodor Geisel.