Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ On Set ❯ 02 - Proposition ( Chapter 2 )

On Set

-02 Proposition-

“I think it's just up here,” Bulma said to Vegeta as they walked down the street. It felt like any other street set in an industrial district, with factories, offices, and storage sheds lining the road. Stopping in front of one of the more modest looking buildings, Bulma double checked the address, and sure enough found they were in the right place. A glance to her side revealed her grumpy roommate, hands shoved in his pockets, glaring at their surroundings. He always looked so perpetually pissed and on guard, even when there seemed to be no reason for it, like now, when there was no one in sight. Yet Vegeta looked ready to murder the first schmuck that crossed their path.

Bulma found it kind of adorable.

“Nervous?” she asked him, trying to guess at his mood.

His eyes swiveled over to her and his lip pulled back, insulted at the implication of weakness. “S'just fucking cold,” he grouched, hunching his shoulders to stave off the chilly autumn day. It was little wonder. The beat-up jacket he wore appeared to be a relic from his teenage years, growing thinner with each use. It was the only jacket she had ever seen him in. Mostly Vegeta wore old t-shirts about the apartment, and even those he only had a few of. He was in serious need of a wardrobe overhaul.

“Well, let's get inside,” she insisted, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the front door.

He made an irritated sound at her overzealous manhandling. “I can walk myself, damnit.”

“Jeez, sorry,” she rolled her eyes, letting him go. They approached the front door that had a very modest `Kame Studios' on the front, easily overlooked from the street. Bulma turned and gave Vegeta a salacious grin. “Hey, think we'll actually get to see people going at it?”

He gave her a disapproving look. “…I don't know you. I didn't come here with you. You're just some crazy woman who followed me down the street.”

“Pfft,” she replied. “That's a terrible story. They're not going to hire you for security if you can't even handle one crazy stalker, are they?”

His jaw worked and she turned before he could see her smirk in victory. She knocked, pausing a polite moment before turning the handle. The door swung in, but instead of being greeted by forced moans and bad electro-funk music, they only found a very bland office. It could have been the reception area to any business, with no distinguishing features giving away the nature of what went on inside. A man sat at a front desk reading a car magazine. He looked up at Bulma and Vegeta as they entered, his expression just as neutral as the room. “Can I help you two?”

Vegeta took a step forward, his eyes scanning the office. “Yeah, a friend said you guys were hiring?”

The man looked them both over. Turning, he reached back into a filing cabinet and pulled out two forms, handing them over to Vegeta. He waved at a container of pens. “Fill those out while I see if someone is available to meet with you.” The man then picked up the phone and called someone internally.

Curious, Bulma looked over Vegeta's shoulder as he glanced at the paperwork. His brow was pulled down as he tried to puzzle out why the man had given him two identical forms.

“…Maybe he needs a copy?” she suggested, keeping her voice down so as not to disturb the receptionist's call.

Vegeta's flashed her an annoyed look. “There's a fucking copy machine in the goddamn corner,” he said, also keeping his voice low. “…It must be a mistake.”

Bulma shrugged. She flashed him a wicked grin. “You don't suppose he thinks I'm part of your team or something, does he?”

“Ha! With your skinny arms? As if,” Vegeta snorted, finding the idea preposterous.

Bulma pouted and punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“That's for being a dick!” she told him.

He grit his teeth at her. “Could you not be a cunt for three minutes so I can fill out one of these goddamn-”

“Hey,” the receptionist said, cutting into their whispered squabble. “The Boss said he's free now, if you wanna head on in. You can fill those out after if all goes well. Just head right on down to the back.” He stood and opened a door for them to go through.

Bulma shoved Vegeta through the door before he could protest her tagging along. He grunted, throwing her an agitated look that she ignored, giving the receptionist a cheerful, “Thanks!” as they stepped into the studio proper.

They moved down a hallway until it opened out into a large studio space, various sets with beds and other props set up, lights and cameras and curtains all over the place. There were side doors too, no doubt leading off to other rooms and perhaps more extensive sets. But no one was filming. Pity. Bulma pouted, looking around. She spotted one girl sitting in front of a mirror, primping. The woman had sharp features, blond hair and almond eyes. She was pretty. Really pretty. She had the kind of beauty that would make a less secure woman jealous. Bulma admired her from afar, instantly curious. The blond gave them a cursory glance over, her eyes lingering on Vegeta before she looked back at herself in the mirror. “You guys new?” she asked, her tone all business, bored.

“He's here to interview,” Bulma said, pointing at Vegeta.

“Keep going down there,” the blond indicated, pointing down another hallway. Vegeta nodded and started heading off, looking over his shoulder and raising a brow at Bulma when she didn't follow.

“I'll hang out here,” she told him with a smile. “You don't want me getting in your way, right?”

His expression didn't change but must have agreed because he kept going, not giving her another glance. “Try not to get yourself thrown out,” he called back as he disappeared down the hallway.

Bulma stuck her tongue out at his back before her eyes drifted once more over to the blond. The place was quiet, calm, and deserted. That, or the rooms had some pretty fantastic sound proofing, which actually made a lot of sense the more Bulma thought about it. She walked over to the blond, sticking out her hand with a smile. “Hey, I'm Bulma.”

The blond glanced at Bulma's hand before she put her mascara down and shook it. “Eighteen.”

Bulma's brow arched up. “…Really?”

Eighteen smirked. “It's my stage name. Something of an in-joke. If we hire your boyfriend, I might tell you the story behind it.”

Bulma laughed. “Ahaha, oh my god no, he's not my boyfriend.”

Eighteen arched a brow and shrugged. She went back to her make up.

Bulma took the stool next to her, shamelessly watching the woman put on her face. “So, you're a, uh… `actress'?” she asked.

Eighteen's blue eyes darted to Bulma's reflection, searching for any judgement, but Bulma harbored none, only curiosity. When else would she get the chance to speak with a professional adult film actress? Finding nothing incriminating, Eighteen's eyes shifted back to her own face. “Uh-huh.”

“That's so friggin' awesome!” Bulma gushed, unable to contain her excitement. “You guys have a lot of guts to do what you do. I think it's really inspiring. And sexy. I mean, you look gorgeous. How long does it take to get ready for a shooting?”

Eighteen snorted. “Honey, you don't even want to know. I'd suck twice as many dicks if it meant I didn't have to primp and shave and pluck and powder and diet nearly so much.” Her eyes glanced back to Bulma, examining her critically. “But you look like you keep yourself in good shape. It wouldn't take much to fix you up for a shoot. The men would eat a pretty thing like you right up.”

“Wh-who me?!” Bulma stammered, even as she basked in the compliment. “Oh, I dunno… I might have fantasized about it once or twice, but I can't say I've given porn any serious thought.”

Eighteen shrugged her shoulder again. “Well, I won't lie and say it's all glamorous or endless orgasms. It's not. But this company is one of the better ones I've worked for, and if you like the attention, and money, you could do worse. Trust me.”

Her words set off a string of lights in Bulma's mind, like a line of Christmas lights. Attention? Money? Bulma couldn't lie, not to herself: she loved both of those things. A lot. And sex too, if she was being honest. Jeez, when was the last time she had gotten laid anyway? With Yamcha, but that was a while ago now, and even longer than that considering he hadn't given her an orgasm in months… Bulma bit her lip, possibilities starting to blossom in her mind. She leaned in on her stool, her heart pounding with wild thoughts. “…How much money?”

Eighteen's lips curled up at the corner in amusement, but she continued putting on her make up. “There's a check in my top drawer. Take a look.”

Bulma did. She opened the drawer and sure enough found a crisp white check. Picking it up, checking out the amount it was made out for, Bulma felt her eyes going wide. “…Holy shit.”

Eighteen's smile widened. “Not bad for a day's work, huh?”

“A day?!” Bulma shrieked, her fingers tightening over the check. “You made this in a day?” She put the check back in the drawer before her envy got the best of her.

Eighteen chuckled. “Don't get too excited. A newbie like you would be starting off at a lower pay grade, but you would still be making decent money. Your… not boyfriend is going to be worse off though. Men don't get paid as well as us ladies.”

Bulma blinked, her excitement dying out as her brow pulled down, confused. Then she reeled back and shook her hand between them, waving Eighteen's comment off. “Oh, haha, no no no, you're mistaken. Vegeta isn't here for porn, he's here for security.”

Eighteen arched a delicate brow. “But we're not hiring security.”

The two women stared at each other.

Bulma leapt off her the stool, feeling the blood drain from her face, her eyes going wide. A prickling cold sweat broke out on her skin. “Oh. My god.”

Eighteen's brows rose curiously. “Something wrong?”

Bulma darted off down the hallway where she had seen Vegeta go. “I have to go save your boss before Vegeta kills him!”

~xox~

Vegeta was having something of an existential crisis. He knew he had fallen low, maybe not rock bottom, but pretty freaking low none the less. Not that he had ever been up high, but living in Frieza's gang had afforded him some benefits, and even a modicum of respect. Neither of which he had been getting lately. He certainly hadn't gotten anything out of the bouncing gig, unless you counted one measly pay check. Fuck, that job had been demeaning, a huge blow to his self-esteem, and an even worse blow when he lost it. It only proved what a colossal piece of shit Frieza had always said he was. As if that weren't enough, being kept by a woman with a soft spot for strays wasn't helping his ego either.

So Vegeta didn't think it could get much worse. But of course, the world enjoyed proving how very wrong he could be, no doubt laughing at him right at this very moment as he struggled to understand the request asked of him. Vegeta knew the words that were being said, but what he couldn't understand was their meaning. He was sure there was some nuance he wasn't correctly perceiving.

“…What?” he asked, feeling a vein start to throb in his temple.

The old man sat at a desk, wearing sunglasses and sporting a long white beard, looking like a goddamn ZZ Top* extra. He wore a benign smile and genially repeated himself. “Your clothes, son. Take `em off so we can get a good look at you.”

Okay, so, no, Vegeta hadn't misheard or misunderstood. That's exactly what he thought the old man had said the first time. He felt his lip curl in disgust as his mind imploded with the request. Taking a threatening step forward, Vegeta's right hand fisted, anger boiling to the surface. “The fuck kind of interview is this? What kind of pervert are y-”

Bulma came crashing through the door, her eyes taking in the scene in only a second.

“Oh good! Boobs!” the old man announced, trying to get a look at Bulma over the rim of his sunglasses.

Vegeta saw red. Just as he was about to grab a fistful of the old man's tacky shirt, Bulma stepped in front of him. She grabbed his arms, looking over her shoulder at the old man. “So sorry, there's been a HUGE misunderstanding. Can I borrow him for just a teeny second?”

Without waiting for an answer, Bulma tugged Vegeta out of the office until they were out in the hallway. Vegeta was seething, ready to call this whole thing a wash and head home, — maybe with a stop along the way to murder Nappa for ever suggesting he come here. He grabbed Bulma's wrist and tried to pull her after him. “Come on, we're leaving this fucking place.”

“Vegeta, wait,” she said, digging in her heels.

He glanced at her, unable to fathom what she could possibly want to hang around for. “Bulma, this place is shady as hell. That asshole just asked me to strip. And you heard what he said about you!”

“Yes,” she replied, her face wincing in sympathy.

“Yes?” he roared back, his hands flying up, incredulous. “The fuck do you mean, yes? What kind of man asks another man to fucking strip for a security job?”

“Uh, well… the kind that's actually conducting an interview for a porn star?” Bulma offered with a wane smile.

Vegeta tried to let that process. It didn't. “…What?”

Bulma gave an awkward laugh. “Well, so, I was just talking to one of the workers here and I think there's been a bit of a mixup… I believe you were just auditioning for porn.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He breathed in through his nose, and then out, and managed to feel surprisingly calm given the situation. Someone should have given him a fucking medal for that kind of mental control. “And we're not leaving this place, because…?”

Bulma's eyes met his, then actually darted away as she steeled herself. That was unlike her. He had only known her a month, but living together 24/7 taught you a whole fucking lot about a person, and Vegeta knew that Bulma rarely hesitated. She brought her hands up to once again touch his arms, her fingers curling in his sleeves. He tensed, suddenly feeling trapped.

“Okay, so… And just hear me out on this one,” she started, looking up at him from under long, blue lashes, trying to appear coy. He felt his jaw clench in response, all his internal signals flashing red. “This might sound crazy,” she continued. “But… What if we actually gave it a try?”

He stared at her, once again under the impression that the words he heard couldn't mean what he thought they meant. And what the hell did she mean by `we'…? “Bulma,” he growled, her name a warning, his good temperament teetering on the edge of an all-out rampage.

“It's a lot of money, Vegeta.”

Oh dear fuck, she was serious. He shoved her away, pushing her at arm's length as if worried that being near her meant catching whatever form of crazy she had come down with. “You're fucking joking! Who cares how much fucking money it is? I'm not-”

“A whole month,” she said, cutting into his tirade. “One movie, one day of shooting would cover our rent for the whole month, with enough left over for groceries and utilities too.”

Vegeta's mouth snapped shut. He had done a lot of bad things in his life. He had hurt people, stolen things, broken the law on counts beyond his recall (although the police probably did). He had committed acts that most people would not be proud of, and yet with very little effort, Vegeta managed to sleep just fine at nights. Shame was not something he readily felt, if he felt it at all. That was, until right now, when for a second, for just one tiny, fluttering beat of a heart, Vegeta actually considered her offer.

And instantly felt ashamed.

“If you want to whore yourself out so badly, don't let me stop you,” he spat at her coldly. “But don't drag me into it.”

Sick to his stomach, Vegeta turned on his heels and left, furious at himself, at her, at the world and the shit show that was his life that had him actually considering doing porn. Fuck it, fuck it ALL, he was so done. OUT. GOOD FUCKING BYE. He stormed right out of the studio, ignoring the blond and the receptionist as he busted his way back onto the street where the cool fall weather licked at his clothes. But it couldn't quell the bright fire of indignation and shame burning within him.

~xox~

Bulma arrived home to an empty apartment. It wasn't surprising, considering that she had taken the bus whereas Vegeta had probably walked. That was, if he was walking home and not off in another direction, running away from her and her crazy proposal.

She had never seen him that upset before.

Bulma sighed, irritated at his immaturity but not really surprised by it. The guy seemed perpetually high strung, and though he could make lewd jokes with her about the TV shows they watched, any time the conversation turned personal he would clam up and grow sullen, and she was lucky if she could get a grunt out of him. Bulma had known she was crossing a line when she suggested they try filming porn, especially after Vegeta had uncharacteristically grabbed her arm in trying to flee the studios. But she had just been so swept up in the idea at the time and hadn't wanted to let an opportunity slip by without at least considering their options. So she pushed him. Too far, apparently.

Damn.

Bulma opened their fridge but only empty shelves greeted her. The dishes were still piled up in the sink too, dirty. The apartment was unsettlingly quiet. It didn't feel like home without Vegeta lounging about, watching TV, digging for food, or even just hanging out in his room; his presence always felt like a heavy weight in the air. Bulma turned around and headed back out to pick up some food, knowing she would have to use her credit card and rack up even more interest which she couldn't pay.

The image of Eighteen's pay check floated back into her mind, a phantom of temptation. Damn was that some good money. And for only one day of work? Imagine only needing to work a few days a month to make rent and live comfortably. Of course, there was the nature of the work… Bulma knew it couldn't be as glamorous as it appeared on screen, Eighteen had even said as much. Still, if Bulma was able to choose the job, who she worked with, what she did, surely she could soldier through for just one day to help make ends meet, just make one film to earn enough to give her the time to find a better job? But could she actually do it, make porn? Could she keep it from her friends and family? Could she go through with it? Bulma really didn't know, and it was a little terrifying though at the same time exciting. The thrill of the challenge called to her. It's why she had stayed behind, once Vegeta had left, and spoken to the Producer, taking his business card just in case.

Bulma checked her phone but there were no missed calls or messages. Vegeta probably just needed time to cool down. With food and beer in hand, Bulma went home, finding the place still deserted. She spent the evening cleaning, cooking, eating, checking her phone and waiting. A lot of waiting.

She drank over half the six-pack waiting for Vegeta to come back, and finally passed out on the couch half way through her fourth can.

She startled awake a few hours later, blinking blearily about. It was late, way after midnight, but something was different. The air felt heavy. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Bulma got up, stumbling in the dark over to Vegeta's bedroom and lightly rapped her knuckles on his door before opening it a crack. “Vegeta?”

~xox~

Vegeta was staring up at the ceiling in the dark when her knock came. The door opened, Bulma peering in. With his eyes adjusted to the night he could make her out. She was rubbing at her face, her voice slurring from sleep, or maybe from all the beer she had, if the empty cans he had seen about her on the couch were any indication. He had contemplated waking her up when he came back in, but decided against it. She was a grown ass woman, and if she wanted to pass out on the couch in her own place, so be it. Still, it seemed that he had woken her indirectly, considering he had only just settled down when her knock came.

He sighed, still bristling with agitation. “What?”

She took that as a sign to come in. Of course she did, she was always acting like she was entitled to everything. He felt the bed dip as she sat at the end, pulling her knees up to her chest and trying to make him out in the dark. He pushed himself up into a sitting position so he felt less vulnerable, leaning his back on the wall and staring her down, waiting.

“I'm sorry about earlier,” she said, actually sounding contrite.

He huffed, looking away.

“Vegeta, look,” she went on, her tone becoming firmer. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just got a little carried away with the romanticism of it all.”

Vegeta felt his brows rise with incredulity, turning his head back towards her. “Romant- About PORN?” This woman was unbelievable!

She shrugged her shoulders. “You know, the glitz and glamor of it… Being seen as a sex idol, working only occasionally to make a solid pay check. Doing something secretive and naughty… Having lots of sex with good looking people… You don't think that's a little alluring?”

Vegeta opened his mouth to object, but found it hard to come up with the right words to combat her argument. Fuck her and her damn logic. He grabbed at the first insult that came to mind. “Why not cut out the middle man and go sell yourself on the goddamn street corner?” he replied snidely.

She actually laughed. “Give me two more months without a pay check and we might be there,” she joked. Or he hoped she joked.

“Tch.”

She started crawling up the bed towards him. He tensed, his entire body rigid as she reached his side and started wriggling under the blankets.

“The fuck are you doing?” he protested.

“It's cold,” she whined.

“Then go to your own fucking bed!”

“But we're having a conversation.”

He sighed in aggravation. “Bulma, it's late…”

“I'm thinking about doing it,” she blurted out.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever. Good. Go do porn. Now let me sleep.”

He felt her fingers on his forearm and he stiffened. “Do you think I can?” she asked, her voice soft.

He dropped his hand from his face, trying to see her expression but the dark obscured her features. Her question had him feeling very uncomfortable. “…How the fuck would I know? You just lay there and let some asshole fuck you, right? What's so hard about that?”

She retracted her hand. “I think it's a bit more complicated than that.”

He didn't reply. This whole conversation could go to hell for all the discomfort it was causing him. He was definitely going to murder Nappa for bringing this down upon him.

“Would you watch it?” she asked.

“Watch what?”

“My porn.”

…What? Vegeta desperately tried to shut down the images of her in an adult film before his imagination could get carried away with them. He swallowed, feeling far too hot all of a sudden, her presence and the blankets smothering him. “I already told you I don't watch that shit.”

“No, I mean…” She hesitated, finding the right words, completely oblivious to his discomfort as she fussed with the blankets. “You saw that other woman there, right? Can I compete with that, or am I just kidding myself?” she gave a half-hearted laugh.

Was she… looking for validation? From him? What the actual fuck. “…Bulma, I don't fucking know.”

She didn't say anything, her head lowered, and he got the distinct impression he had said the wrong thing. Fuck this conversation all the way to fucking space. He sighed and tried again, if only to appease her enough so that she would leave him be to sleep this shitty day away once and for all.

“If I ever sunk so low as to watch porn, I would watch yours over the blond's. Happy now?”

She leaned in, nudging his shoulder with her own, her amusement evident in her voice. “Thanks. Hey. Would you come with me tomorrow?”

“Where?” he growled.

“Back to Kame Studios. They're filming and invited us to watch, so we could see what the gig would be like.”

“Bulma-”

“Please?” she begged, her fingers alighting on his arm again, making his teeth clench in frustration. “I'd feel so much safer if you accompany me.”

Goddamn her. “…I'm not doing porn.”

“No,” she agreed.

“I'm serious, Bulma.”

“I know. I respect that,” she said, her fingers tightening over his arm in silent thanks.

His own fingers clenched on the bed covers. “Go to bed so I can get some fucking sleep. I'm not going anywhere tomorrow if I'm exhausted.”

“You're the best!” she gushed, giving him another nudge and then climbed out of his covers, moving to his bedroom door. “Sweet dreams!”

He grunted as she slipped out. Long after he heard her bedroom door snick shut, he laid back down. Reaching out, he pulled the second pillow over his face and hoped he might suffocate in his sleep, sparing himself from waking the next day.

~xoXox~

AN: beta-read by Artephile/Marcella-Duchamp ^_^

I won't be held responsible for what happens to your underwear in the next chapter…

Also um, don't forget this is just some silly AU. The decision to do porn should be taken far, FAR more seriously than these idiots are taking it. I mean, if that's your thing, go for it, but for the love of god, don't make these megalomaniacs your role model. Just saying.

*If you guys don't know ZZ Top, google them. Forgive me for being an old fart with my old fart references. But you can't tell me ZZ Top wasn't an inspiration for Roshi's design. I simply won't believe you.

DBZ owned by Akira Toriyama (although he'd be sore pressed to recognize his work in this AU, lol). This AU is the sinful idea of Stupidoomdoodles and myself, LadyVegeets. Stupidoomdoodles (cartoonist and illustrator extraordinaire) and LadyVegeets (writer) can be found on twitter, tumblr and p atreon. We'd love to hear your feedback. All sinners welcome ^_^