Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Of Stars, Steam, and Pride ❯ 03 ( Chapter 3 )

Of Stars, Steam, and Pride

By LadyVegeets, (beta-read by Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp)

~Part 3~

The next few weeks saw Bulma visiting Goku's place regularly to provide Chi Chi with female company, and to show that there were no hard feelings towards Goku. Vegeta was a different case entirely. If he was present when she visited he would ignore her, skulking by in the shadows, throwing her a surreptitious glance before moving along and disappearing down a corridor.

Soon enough an invitation arrived for Goku's ball, to be hosted at the Bingley estate. There would be a silent auction, as well as a donation collected for those affected by the attack. Thankfully nothing more had come of the saibamen's attack in the past few weeks. Bulma spent a lot of her time under the walls, checking and rechecking, but she couldn't find any further anomalies or clues as to what, or who, had sabotaged the city's forcefields on the night of the attack.

A few days before the ball, an attendant fetched Bulma from her lab, telling her that she had a guest. She headed to the front door, pulling down her work goggles, and could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Vegeta standing in her foyer. She looked around but there was no sign of Goku or Chi Chi with him.

“Vegeta,” she greeted cautiously. She was also surprised to see he wasn't wearing his military blues. Instead he wore a rather dapper black ensemble that highlighted his muscular build well. He's drop dead gorgeous, Chi Chi's voice haunted her. Bulma swallowed and frowned, pushing the memory away. “How can I help you?”

Vegeta looked her over and Bulma wished she had had the foresight to change. Once again he had caught her in besmeared engineering attire. He probably thought she always looked a complete mess. Vegeta offered her something: a long, white box.

Bulma stood dumbstruck. “A… present?” she asked, stunned.

Vegeta's fingers tightened on the box, and he scowled at her, but she couldn't help noticing the tips of his ears growing pink. “Hardly. It's my new ki guard.”

“And?”

He struggled not to let his frustration get the best of him. He cleared his throat. “Goku is throwing the damn ball, and invitations were sent, including to your best friend. Now it's your turn to hold up your end of the bargain.” He thrust the box at her and she was forced to take it.

Ah, he wanted it modified. Bulma's eyes flitted to his hand where she saw the glint of metal. “How has that one been treating you?” she asked, curiosity of her handiwork overruling her loathing of speaking to the man.

Vegeta looked at his hand, then at her. “Well enough.”

Bulma scoffed at his lukewarm reply, but let it go. “Follow me.”

She led him through her estate to her lab. Glancing back at him, she saw he took in her abode with keen, dark eyes. He caught her staring. “I wouldn't have guessed you actually came from money,” he said.

Bulma breathed in through her nose, struggling not to take offense at everything he said. “My father is a genius,” she replied, facing forward once more. “And so am I.”

“Hn.”

Dick.

They reached her lab and Bulma made some space at her work bench to unpack Vegeta's new ki guard. She frowned when she pulled it from the box. “… This is left handed.”

“Yes.”

“But you're right handed… Aren't you?”

“So?”

“…Wait, are you planning on dual-wielding?” Bulma asked him, alarmed.

Vegeta just stared at her stoically. Despite herself, Bulma was impressed. She had never heard of anyone dual-wielding ki guards before. It would normally be a suicidal concept. The technology was dangerous to use even for trained individuals. Using two guards at once could be life threatening… But she had modified his guard to be more efficient. Was Vegeta confident he could now use two guards for the physical cost of one? It was extremely risky… and at the same time Bulma felt flattered that Vegeta put that much faith in her modifications. She watched form the corner of her eye as he walked around her lab, examining her other projects and sketches. He stopped to admire an ornate metal vest she had been working on.

“Do you like it?” she asked after he had been staring at it for a solid five minutes.

“What is it?”

“Something I've been working on. A ki vest.”

He looked at her, surprised, and she smirked, pleased to have caught his attention. He glanced back at the vest. “How does it work?” he asked.

She stood up, unable to resist a chance to show off one of her latest inventions. “Well, it doesn't, yet, it's just a prototype. But perhaps soon enough, all you boys in blue will be wearing one,” she teased, poking him in the arm. He frowned at her and folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Explain.”

“It's similar to your ki guard,” she said. “It draws out your inner energy, but instead of focusing it into an attack beam like the ki guard does, this will focus your energy into defense, similar to the forcefields we use on the planets and spaceships.”

Vegeta's brow furrowed as he considered her idea. “That will get very exhausting,” he said after a while.

“Not with my modifications,” Bulma assured smugly. “Haven't you noticed that using my updated ki guard has been less draining?”

Vegeta looked away. “…Perhaps.”

“Well, the vest will be even less taxing, I promise,” Bulma said confidently.

Vegeta huffed. “But it's not finished?”

Bulma gave a nonchalant, one shouldered shrug. “Well, the mechanics of it are finished. But I don't have anyone to test it on to see if it performs the way I would like. You know as well as I that only those specially trained and licensed can use ki equipment.”

Vegeta's finger tapped on his arm. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Then he unfolded his arms and started unbuttoning his jacket. “I'll try it.”

Bulma cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “Oh? What makes you think I'll let you.”

He paused, half unbuttoned, his eyes black as coal as he regarded her. In a dizzying heartbeat Vegeta darted forward, trapping her against the table, his arms braced either side of her. He leaned in, smirking, inches from her face. “You'll let me, because you want me to. Who else do you have?”

Fuckfuckfuckfuck… Bulma felt her heart thump loudly, trying to beat right out of her chest. She swallowed nervously, her fingers clutching the table she was pressed up again. She could feel the heat of his body radiating off him, and his words dangled between them, full of arrogance and mockery…

And worst of all, truth.

“I-I'll ask Son,” she said, her voice coming out embarrassingly weak.

“Ask him then,” Vegeta goaded, leaning in closer and Bulma dipped away in response. “See if he can entertain anything else that isn't your raven-haired friend. And while you're trying to convince him, I'll take it from you, with or without your consent.”

Bulma felt a shiver run through her. Her breath leaving her in a soft gasp.

Vegeta grinned, leaning in even more, and Bulma had nowhere else to go, no more room to escape. He pressed right up against her - and reached around her to pluck the vest from its stand. He stepped away. Bulma let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, feeling hot and frazzled and confused, and that made her upset because she was normally better in control of herself.

“Why can't you just ask instead of being an ass?” she asked him hatefully.

“I'm used to getting my way,” he replied with a suave smirk.

“I can tell,” she spat, watching with irritation as he slid off his jacket.

He paused, looking up at her from under dark lashes. “Does it need to be touching skin?”

Bulma refused to be intimidated. She met his eyes, lifting her chin. “Yes.”

Vegeta held her gaze. He kept holding it as his fingers slid to the buttons of his charcoal shirt, and he started slowly undoing them. “Seems like a design flaw,” he told her wryly.

Bulma felt her cheeks grow warm as he undressed. She frowned at herself, annoyed that she was feeling flustered when she had already seen him without his shirt on several times. “It's just a prototype,” she reminded him.

He hummed and finished unbuttoning. He pulled the shirt off, the fabric peeling back and revealing a sight she was growing all too familiar with, hard, rippling muscles and dark scars. He tossed his shirt aside and pulled the vest on, then looked down at all the clips and buckles on the side, hesitating.

Bulma approached. “Let me.”

He frowned but allowed her to assist. He stood still as she closed all the clasps. “This wouldn't do in a battle situation,” he commented.

“What difference would that make to you? You would sleep in the damn thing day and night.”

There was no response. Bulma looked up at him and nearly startled when she saw that he was watching her. His expression was neutral, but his eyes regarded her with close interest. She swallowed and looked back down at her fingers as they worked the clasps.

“You're staring,” she grumbled.

“So? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“…Why?” he finally asked.

Bulma looked back at him, once more meeting his eyes. He almost sounded sincere, almost appeared earnest, but that couldn't be right because Vegeta was a self-centered ass. He had to be mocking her, surely.

She pulled a clasp as tight as it would go. He grunted in pain and gave her an agitated look.

She smirked at him. “There.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork, and to dodge answering his question.

Vegeta looked down, fingering the craftsmanship. “How does this work?”

“Good question,” Bulma admitted, only knowing the theories of ki technology, not the practice. “Try charging it the same way you do your guard.”

Vegeta looked doubtful. “Won't that charge my guard too?”

Bulma shrugged. “Beats me. You're the ki expert.”

Vegeta gave her an irked look. “It's your invention!”

“Fine, if you don't want to experiment, I can take it off-”

“Stand back,” he warned her impatiently. Bulma did.

Vegeta closed his eyes, going still in concentration. There was suddenly an energy in the room, a feeling of something impending, the small hairs on Bulma's arms and neck rising. Vegeta scowled, concentrating hard, and then suddenly there was a WOOSH and a small shockwave knocked papers off desks and Buma's hair blew back. When she blinked open her eyes, Vegeta was standing in a golden shroud.

“Remarkable…” he said, raising his hand and admiring the aura around him.

“It works!” Bulma cried out, elated, a grin of excitement splitting her face. She stepped up to his side, reaching out her hand to touch the forcefield.

“No-!” he tried to warn, too late.

ZAP!

It stung and burnt sharply, like ice and fire at the same time. Bulma yanked her hand back with a yelp of pain.

“You idiot!” Vegeta snapped at her as his aura died. He stepped towards her and without asking grabbed her hand to inspect it. Her fingers were swollen and red, bleeding, the skin split. His hold tightened on her wrist, and he shook her arm angrily. “Why would you touch it?!” he asked hotly, looking at her with accusing eyes.

Bulma blinked back tears of pain. “The scientist in me had to know,” she laughed even as she wanted to cry. It had been foolish, but part of her was still overjoyed that her crazy experiment had worked so well. Her fingers hurt terribly though.

Vegeta made an agitated sound. He dug in his drawstring pouch and produced a small glass vial. He yanked the cork out with his teeth and dropped some of the oil onto her fingers.

Bulma winced in pain. “Ouch. What are you doing?”

“Fi-ksin' it,” he mumbled around the cork.

Bulma felt her fingers tingle and she looked down in wonder as she watched the broken skin seal as the swelling went down. Her eyes went wide. “What…?”

Vegeta let her hand go and re-stoppered the vial, putting it away, not meeting her eyes.

Bulma examined her hand. It was nearly good as new, just a little sore, bruised at worst. So this must be the infamous senzu medicine. The same medicine Vegeta had been appalled to learn Goku had used on Chi Chi, and Chi Chi's injury had been far more serious than hers.

Bulma stared at Vegeta in amazement. “…Why?”

“You can't modify my new guard with a damaged hand, can you?”

Oh. Right. Of course that would be his reasoning. Bulma looked away, wondering why she felt… disappointed. “…It's always business with you, isn't it?” she asked softly.

Vegeta's brow furrowed, and he started undoing the clasps on his vest. “That's all I know.”

Bulma had nothing to say, and neither did he, so she returned to her work bench and shoved her confused thoughts deep down, forgetting them by wrapping herself up in modifying Vegeta's second ki guard.

“Can I see the ki guard you're wearing?” she asked after a few minutes, wanting to reference what she had modified last time.

Vegeta huffed but with a few deft flicks of his fingers, unlatched the gauntlet and pulled it off for her. It came off smoothly this time, and Bulma saw there were no fresh wounds on his arm. Her modifications had worked, making the guard not only stronger and less draining, but also less likely to inflict damage on its user. She smiled secretly to herself as she accepted the gauntlet.

“What?” he snapped at her, catching her smile.

“Just glad to see it's working,” she said, pleased.

Vegeta glanced at his arm then at her, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why are you here?” he asked, surprising her.

Bulma blinked at him, perplexed. “I… What? You asked me to-”

“No, not this room. Here, on this outpost,” Vegeta explained, staring at her with an unnerving, piercing gaze. “Your talents are being wasted here.”

Was he… complimenting her? “I, well… this is my home,” she said, not really sure how to answer him.

“And that's satisfying for you?” he asked.

His question struck her through the heart like a blade. It was a question she had been carrying around with her for weeks now, months… years if she was being honest, but she had never really dared ask it of herself, let alone contemplate an answer. And now this insensitive ass was asking her so directly, like he had any place to question her or hear her answer.

“I'm sorry, I'm not good at multitasking. Do you want me to modify this, or do you want to have a chat?” she huffed at him, her heart in her throat, feeling suddenly claustrophobic by his inquiries and by the implications his questions held.

“The gauntlet,” he answered after a long pause.

Bulma let out a relieved breath and went back to work.

“…Sorry if I upset you.”

She nearly dropped the tiny screwdriver in her fingers, and gave Vegeta a startled, pained look. What did he just say? And why? Why was he doing this to her, making her all confused? It felt so out of character for him, but then again, maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought… Bulma couldn't answer him, but he didn't seem to want one, and after a few awkward moments passed, Bulma swallowed and went back to tinkering with his gauntlets, and he let her do so in peace.

“You don't have to stay,” she told him after half an hour, by which point he had dressed back into his clothes and found a seat, his arms folded over his chest, his head resting back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Hn.”

Bulma rolled her eyes and that was the extent of their conversation until she finished her work. Once done, she stretched her arms above her head before getting up, holding both gauntlets out to him. “Ta-da!”

He opened his eyes and sat up, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He took the gauntlets and slipped them on, fastening the latches before examining his arms, bending and fisting his hands experimentally. A small smile formed on his face.

“Good fit?” she asked.

“Yes,” he agreed. He stood up.

Bulma looked around her lab. “Well, I guess I should have thought to build something you could test them on…”

“No need,” Vegeta cut her off. He raised both hands, palms up, and frowned, concentrating. Suddenly two balls of blu-ish white light formed over his palms. Bulma's eyes widened in wonder.

“Wow… I didn't know they could do that.”

He smiled at her smugly, his face shadowed by the ki's light. “They can't, normally. I've been experimenting with your modifications. They allow for far better ki control than the original model.”

“That's impressive,” she said, meaning it, amazed by his drive for self improvement. She stepped closer to him, drawn to the light like a moth to flame.

“Don't touch it,” he cautioned her sternly. “I doubt senzu medicine would fix what these can do to your delicate skin.”

“Mm,” she agreed, mesmerized by the ki balls. She glanced at him and saw that he watched her, his eyes glowing in the blue light. She kept his gaze, his eyes as magnetizing as the light.

“…Watch this,” he said, his voice soft. He tilted his palms, and the ki balls started drifting towards each other. They swallowed each other, billowing into one larger ball. Vegeta frowned with concentration, and the ball started floating upwards, spinning lazily between them.

“It's beautiful,” she breathed with awe.

He looked at her, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “It could kill hundreds.”

“So? It's still beautiful,” she insisted.

“Yes,” he agreed.

The ball started to shrink and sink back towards his palms. He closed his hand over it, and the light snuffed out with a soft crackling from the gauntlet. When he was sure it was safely extinguished, he looked back at her.

Bulma realized how close they were, standing together, bare inches apart. She cleared her throat and looked away. “You're clearly very skilled with ki,” she said awkwardly.

“There's room for improvement,” he replied, his voice still soft.

“You're not easily impressed, are you?” she said, stepping away, trying to put a barrier up between them again, feeling oddly exposed.

“No.”

Bulma cleared her throat again and started shuffling her papers about on her desk to look busy. “Well, I hope those work out for you. Let me know if there are any issues. You know the way out, right?” She glanced at him and saw he had thankfully stopped staring at her, rolling down his sleeves over his newly modified gauntlets.

“You will be attending the ball?” he asked.

Bulma arched a brow. “Yes. Chi Chi would murder me if I didn't attend.”

“Kakarot threatened me similarly,” he said, scowling at the memory.

Bulma laughed, the idea of Goku harassing Vegeta somehow funny to her. Vegeta gave her an irritated look, but he didn't ask her what she found amusing, and she didn't bother to explain.

He started to leave, then paused by the door, his fingers resting on the doorframe. “…Thank you for your assistance.”

Bulma felt her heart skip a beat. She looked away. “Well, I would hate to be called a liar for not holding up my end of the bargain.”

“…Of course. Good day, Miss Briefs.”

“Vegeta.”

He left. Bulma glanced at the empty doorway, but his absence didn't make her feel any more at ease. His whole visit had been terribly bewildering. She sighed, rubbing her thumb over her freshly healed fingers, and went back to work.

~xox~

The evening of the ball arrived, and Bulma found herself standing in front of a full length mirror staring critically at her reflection. It had been a while since she had taken such great care of her appearance; if she wasn't working in her lab, she was in the sweltering underbelly of the city, fixing, upgrading and implementing a new system to the wall, trying to make it as secure and tamper-proof as possible. As such, she had been living in her overalls as she dealt with copious amounts of dust, grease, oils, and one time, fetid water when a pipe burst over her.

So tonight Bulma reawakened her femininity, dressing in a brand new gown of creamy lace and carmine red that she had specially made. Her hair was put up in elegant pins, with loose curls hanging artfully about her face and neck, her face painted in simple yet striking make up to accentuate her features, her unique eyes especially bright. She regarded herself carefully, and finally smiled.

Perfect. She was ready to win hearts and break them just as easily.

Her eyes drifted to the table where a bouquet of flowers rested in a vase. Raditz had sent them the day before, along with a note: I hope to steal a dance or more from you tomorrow evening, if I could be so fortunate. Bulma smiled to herself. Then it faded when she realized who else would be there: a certain grumpy colonel. Bulma hoped Vegeta and Raditz could suffer to be in the same place together without causing a scene. Of course, she hoped she and Vegeta could do the same, for Chi Chi's sake at least. Where once that might have been an impossible expectation, now Bulma was less certain. Her last meeting with Vegeta in her lab hadn't been a disaster. In fact, it had almost been pleasant. Yet instead of finding that reassuring, Bulma felt more unnerved than ever.

She pinched her nose and sighed. No, enough fretting. She was going to have a good time, and that was that.

Bulma climbed into her family's carriage and its mechanical horses carried her to the Bingley estate. There were already a lot of people by the time she arrived. An attendant took in the ki vest she had brought along that she intended to put up for bidding at the silent auction. Once inside, Bulma didn't have much trouble finding her best friend. Chi Chi was glowing, looking radiant as she hung off Goku's arm, the center of attention as everyone came to greet the host and make small talk with him and his charming female guest. Bulma pushed her way to the front, embracing Chi Chi in a hug.

“I'm so happy you could come!” Chi Chi exclaimed, squeezing her tightly.

“Me too,” Bulma replied, giving her friend a squeeze back before they separated. “You look lovely, Chi Chi. And this ball looks to be a success already.”

Chi Chi laughed, overjoyed. “I hope so! I've been working for weeks on all the preparations!”

“I can tell,” Bulma said with a smile. They chatted for a while before Bulma's stomach got the best of her, and she left Chi Chi to socialize so that she could saunter over to the buffet and eat. Bulma had just popped a tasty hors d'oeuvre into her mouth when she saw someone come up behind her, a flash of blue in her peripherals.

“A woman with a healthy appetite. Be still my heart.”

Bulma turned and smiled up at Raditz who was dressed handsomely in his formal military blues.

He grinned at her, his eyes raking down her form. “Miss Briefs, might I say you look tastier than this buffet?”

Bulma finished her food and gave him a wry smile. “You might. But flattery is cheap.”

“Fun too,” he agreed.

Bulma laughed. He was a huge flirt, but she didn't mind at all.

“You wound me,” he continued, putting a hand over his chest. “I'd hoped you'd wear one of my flowers.”

“They look far prettier in a vase than on me,” Bulma told him.

Raditz tutted. “You don't do yourself justice.” From his own jacket pocket he plucked his boutonniere and offered the white flower to her. “If I may be so bold?”

Bulma smirked. “Like I could stop you at this point.”

“Ah yes, beleaguered surrender, my favorite.” He gently threaded the flower behind her ear, and the backs of his fingers brushed against the side of her neck. Her skin prickled pleasantly, running all the way down her spine. “There. Lovely.”

Bulma touched the flower and smiled. “You are shameless, Raditz.”

He grinned and winked at her. “Only around pretty women.”

They ate and spoke, talking about the wall's defenses. Raditz's investigations hadn't found anything new, and Bulma was in the same boat. When that conversation expired, they discussed Raditz's travels, his tours to the other outposts in the galaxy. Bulma listened, rapt, living vicariously through his stories, feeling a kernel of jealousy build in her chest as he regaled her with tales of other flora, fauna and cultures. At some point his hand found its way to the small of her back, resting there comfortably as he spoke to her. Even as other pretty women came and went, Raditz only had eyes for her, and Bulma felt flattered. Perhaps she had pegged him wrongly as a playboy…

Their conversation was interrupted when an attendant approached and whispered something in Raditz's ear. Raditz made a face of displeasure at the news, his mouth thinning as the attendant left.

“Forgive me, duty calls,” he said with a lamented sigh.

Bulma felt a flicker of disappointment. “Oh? Work?”

“Yes. The General can be a real buzz kill.” Raditz paused, and his face twisted in concern. “Er, don't tell anyone I said that. The man has no sense of humor.”

Bulma laughed softly. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Raditz winked at her. “I thought as much. Hopefully I should only be gone an hour. Perhaps I can return in time to claim that dance?” he asked, leaning in with a hopeful smile.

Bulma smiled back. “We'll see. Only if another handsome gentleman doesn't sweep me off my feet in the meantime,” she teased.

Raditz pouted. “No matter. I'll just beat him up. It'll put my military training to some good use for once.” He took her hand, raising it and pressing his lips to her fingers. “Don't cry too much while I'm gone. I know it's sad to see me go, but you'll love watching me leave,” he winked at her.

Bulma laughed loudly. “You really are shameless,” she said definitively.

He shrugged and grinned impishly, then walked off with a swagger. Bulma smirked to herself, sipping a drink and admitting that he was right. She did enjoy watching him leave.

“Bulma!”

She nearly dropped her drink. Oh no… no… not him.

She tried to hide a wince as she looked over, and sure enough saw Yamcha hurrying over to her. Great, just great. Not only had her date deserted her, but now a man, who had once awkwardly proposed to her (and whom she had turned down), was imposing himself upon her. So much for this ball being fun. “Yamcha,” she greeted with forced politeness.

“Bulma, you look amazing. As always, haha!” he laughed a little too loudly.

Oh, even better. He was drunk. She wished that she was too. “Yamcha, I haven't seen you at these events in a while.”

“Well, this one is for a good cause, right?”

Bulma arched a brow. Yamcha was hardly the philanthropic type. The Collins Estate was often in more debt than not, making charity a low priority for them. “Yes, of course,” Bulma replied, getting an idea to disengage from him. “Speaking of which, I should check up on the silent auction…”

“Oh, what a nice idea,” he beamed at her, tagging along.

Bulma bit back a groan. She walked through the crowd at a brisk pace but Yamcha followed doggedly at her heels, refusing to lose her or take the hint. They reached the silent auction, and Bulma tried to find something interesting she could bid on, simply to help give money to the cause, and to not speak with Yamcha. She finally found a large, spherical ball of crystal rock, an interesting orange color. It wasn't any precious material that she knew of, probably worth no more than a few hundred galts, if that. Still, it would make for a pretty paperweight. Bulma pulled out a card, wrote down one million galts, and then slipped the paper into the jar.

“So did you put up anything for the auction?” Yamcha asked her, having been waiting for her the whole time.

Bulma sighed. “Yes. The vest,” she said, waving a hand in its general direction.

“Oh, neat. Perhaps I'll bid on it.”

Bulma gave him a wooden smile. She hugged an arm about her middle, her other had still holding her drink, feeling miserably uncomfortable. She liked Yamcha too much to just tell him to get lost, but she didn't like him enough to put up with his awkward attempts at being sociable.

He started talking to her about sports, which she hated, and he should have known she did if he had ever paid her any attention. Suddenly she saw a flash of blue in the corner of her eye, and a voice asked, “Care to dance?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly, turning around in relief, thinking Raditz had finished his business sooner than expected.

Her face fell when she saw who it was. Vegeta stood behind her, dressed in his military finery.

He saw her reaction, and his jaw tightened. “Expecting someone else?” he asked flatly.

Bulma opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was thankfully spared the embarrassment of choosing to tell him a lie, or the horrible truth, when Yamcha butt in, holding out a hand to Vegeta.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm a very old friend of Bulma's.”

“`Bulma'?” Vegeta repeated, glancing between the two, his eyes narrowing. Bulma winced and looked away, mortified by Yamcha's behavior.

Yamcha saw that Vegeta wasn't going to shake his hand, so he retracted his, but it didn't dampen his spirits as he turned to her. “Yes, well, Bulma dear, if you won't take up his offer to dance, perhaps you would do me the honor of-”

“I said yes, didn't I?” Bulma cut Yamcha off, hastily taking Vegeta's arm. She tried to lead Vegeta away, but he glared at her, unmoving. She gave him pleading eyes, but he returned her look unfeelingly, irritated that she had reacted so poorly to his offer.

`Please', she mouthed at him, her eyes darting to Yamcha and then back to Vegeta, her fingers tightening over his arm.

His jaw clenched as he looked away. “Tch.” He placed a gloved hand over hers and without so much as a parting word to Yamcha, led them towards the dance floor, leaving Yamcha behind on the sidelines to watch.

“Thank you,” she said once they were away.

Vegeta gave her a sidelong glance, his face still stormy. “Who was that idiot?”

“An old acquaintance who proposed to me once,” Bulma said, wincing at the memory. It had been extremely awkward, and despite the humiliation of being turned down, Yamcha had never quite given up on her.

“Him?” Vegeta asked, amazed. “That weakling proposed to you?”

Bulma looked at Vegeta, frowning. “Do you consider everyone in terms of strength?”

“What else is there?”

“Only a million other qualities. Besides, what are you doing asking me to dance if you think I'm a `weakling'?” she asked him accusingly.

Vegeta frowned, his gaze slipping away. “Did I say such a thing about you?” he gritted out, his voice tight with annoyance.

“Well, if I had to fight anyone here I'd surely lose. Doesn't that make me weak in your eyes?”

“Tch. Strength is not just physical. And why would you have to fight anyone? That's ridiculous, that's why I'm- the military are here,” he replied flatly. They reached the edge of the dance floor and Vegeta slowed to a stop. He dropped his hand from hers. “I think your ex has given you up for now,” he told her.

Bulma glanced behind them and sure enough saw Yamcha chumming it up with some other pretty woman. Typical. She looked back at Vegeta, his brow still pulled into a scowl. “Right… Thank you for helping me.”

“It's my duty.”

Of course, his `duty'. Vegeta had helped her not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Bulma let his arm go and though they stood only inches apart, the distance between them felt immense. They watched the other couples on the dance floor, neither knowing what to say to the other or how to politely disengage. Besides, something was bothering her.

“…Why did you ask me to dance?” she asked again, seriously this time. She couldn't even imagine Vegeta dancing.

“What difference does it make?” He stated curtly. “You're clearly opposed to the idea.”

Bulma did feel bad about how she had reacted. Still, she and Vegeta weren't exactly on the best terms. How was she supposed to react to his offer? “If memory serves correctly, the last time I asked you to dance, you were rather rude about it too.”

“…You look much better tonight than you did then.”

“Excuse me?” Bulma asked, her temper rising. “Are you saying I was unpresentable then?”

“That's… not…” he struggled to express himself.

Bulma huffed impatiently. “Not what? Where's your arrogance gone, or can you only be an ass to me when I look like a brass mouse?”

“Miss Briefs!” Goku called out amiably, coming over to them.

“Ohthankgod,” Vegeta mumbled under his breath. Bulma flashed him an irritated look, but he was already walking off, using Goku's appearance to escape. Goku watched Vegeta leave with a raised brow.

“Oh, sorry, did I interrupt…?”

“You know us, just having a friendly chat,” Bulma told Goku sarcastically.

“Oh,” Goku said, his face falling. “I thought…” he trailed off, looking after Vegeta again with a worried look.

“Thought what?” she asked.

Goku looked back at her, his mouth tilting up wryly. “Just, well… with the way he nearly tripped over himself when he saw you tonight-”

“Pft. Because I didn't look like a total mess for once?” she cut in snidely.

Goku sighed, giving her a disappointed look. “No. I really wish you would give him the benefit of the doubt more. Vegeta is actually trying, in his own way. Maybe you don't see that because you don't know him like I do. But just because he isn't sociably adept doesn't make him a bad guy.”

Bulma pouted and looked away, not happy that Goku was chastising her again. “I think you see him through rose colored glasses,” she grumbled.

Goku smiled. “Yeah, maybe. But you are purposefully trying to misunderstand him.”

“I don't think it's misunderstanding someone to expect them to be moderately polite,” she sulked.

Goku shrugged. “Perhaps. But Vegeta's had a… rough life. He's had little experience with social niceties.”

“That's crap,” Bulma huffed. “And you're not doing him any favors by making excuses for him. He's perfectly capable of being polite when he wants to be. He thanked me for his ki guard modifications after all, if he can do th-”

“He what?” Goku asked, stunned.

Bulma blinked, surprised. “What?”

“He thanked you?” Goku asked, looking as though his mind had imploded.

Bulma gave him an uncertain look. “Well, yes…”

“I've never heard Vegeta thank anyone.”

Bulma looked at Goku uncertainly, her heart doing a funny little flutter. She scowled against it, folding her arms. “W-well, see, that's my point. You just let him get away with being a rude, impolite grump. How is he supposed to learn if you don't-”

WREEEE! WREEEE! WREEEE!

A high-pitched alarm started sounding, cutting through the music and chatter of the ball. Everyone fell deathly silent, listening to the alarm, tense after the recent attack on the city.

Bulma was the quietest of all. The alarm told her something was wrong with the wall.

And then a voice came over the city's loudspeakers, the man's voice high pitched, frantic, almost sobbing. “CALLING ALL LEVEL ONE ENGINEERS TO WALL TERMINALS. MAY-DAY, MAY-DAY. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS TO WALL DEFENSES. ATMOSPHERE VENT TO OCCUR IN APPROXIMATELY 20 MINUTES. CANNOT OVERRIDE. I REPEAT, CANNOT OVERRIDE. ATMOSPHERE VENT IMMINENT. MAY-DAY, MAY-DAY!!!”

Panic exploded amongst the guests. People screamed and began shouting. Everyone started running, shoving people out of their way as they desperately tried to escape the estate.

“Chi Chi!” Goku cried out, desperately searching the crowd for her. “Follow me!” he called to Bulma, and dove into the madness of people running about.

Bulma tried to follow, but she ha only taken a couple of steps when a panicking person barreled into her, knocking her to the side. She barely kept her footing, catching herself on a support column. By the time she ha regained her balance, she had lost sight of Goku.

WREEEE! WREEEE! WREEEE!

The alarm and bells kept sounding, earsplittingly loud. Bulma was horrified to think of what would happen if the atmosphere was allowed to be vented from the city's forcefield. The entire planet would suffocate in minutes.

“I DON'T WANNA DIE!” A man nearby started screaming frantically, clawing at his face. “I DON'T WANT TO DIE. I NEVER DID ANYTHING. I NEVER HAD A WOMAN. I NEVER-” He spotted Bulma clinging to the column. The wild, panicked look in his eyes darkened as he focused on her. He was a drowning man, and she was his life-raft. He came towards her, and Bulma felt her stomach curl in fear.

“Stay back!” she told him, holding out her arm.

He ignored her, smacking her arm to the side and grabbing her shoulders. “You understand, right? We're going to die, we're all going to die!” he babbled, mindless with fear, his eyes frantic, trailing over her body. “I never got the chance to have a woman…”

“And now is hardly the time!” Bulma spat back at him, trying to shove him off. He stumbled back, shocked, and for a moment Bulma thought he had snapped out of it. Then he snarled and lunged at her, tearing at her gown. She screamed.

And just as suddenly as he came at her, he was wrenched off. His eyes bugged out and he made an awful gargling sound. There was a sickening crunch. Then he collapsed to the floor. Vegeta dropped his hold around the man's throat, looming over his body, staring down unmercifully at the lifeless heap. His dark eyes lifted and met hers.

“Are you hurt?”

Bulma was shaking with adrenalin and fear. She stared at the man on the floor. He wasn't moving. The flower in her hair had fallen out, and now lay by the body, a mockery of a funeral. She looked back at Vegeta with wide, terrified eyes. “D-did you… just…”

“Yes,” he told her coldly. “Or would you rather I had let him rape you?”

Bulma put a hand over her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach.

WREEEE! WREEEE! WREEEE!

Vegeta made an irritated sound and approached her. She backed up, but he was faster, grabbing her arm, giving her a gentle shake. “Can you fix this?” he asked, his voice cold and urgent.

She struggled to fight back tears, trying to regain the shreds of rational thinking. A man lay dead at her feet but they would all be dead soon if someone didn't fix the forcefield at the wall, and she realized that someone had to be her. Bulma nodded numbly, dropping the hand from her mouth. “I think so…”

It was answer enough for him. Vegeta grabbed her hand firmly and pulled her behind him, making a way for them through the throngs of frantic people. Bulma stumbled after him. She was still appalled at what she had witnessed, at what he had done… The hand that held hers had just taken someone's life.

Because of her.

She was disgusted.

She was… relieved. Thankful he had saved her when he did, even though it had cost a man his life.

Bulma felt shamed-filled tears run down her cheeks, and she tried to brush them away while keeping up with Vegeta's merciless pace. His grip hurt, his ki guard biting into her hand. They were nearly at the back of the estate when Bulma felt something grab her arm, yanking her back, bringing them to a halt. Vegeta spun about to see what the hold-up was, raising his free hand to blast any threat-

And came face to face with Raditz.

~0x0x0~

The other contestants who wrote for this challenge were, BigBad-Wolfy , Bitchii-Usa , Verimol Lab , Mariana Oliveira , Fleur Licorne ,Vera Lynn and FrogLady15. You should go check out their fantastic stories :)

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