Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Project: Vegeta ❯ PB and A Revisited ( Chapter 12 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A/N: *sigh* Gosh. I just love these two. They really are a lot of fun to write. Some language and a dash of lemon zest. (Don’t worry, I didn’t edit for content this time... lol)

Disclaimer: Dear Santa, Apparently I was a naughty girl this year, seeing as how I didn’t get my one true wish this year for Christmas. However, I promise to be better in 2009, and as such I expect to find Vegeta, wearing nothing but a strategically placed red ribbon under my tree next Christmas. Until then I will have to settle with using him shamelessly in fictional writings and nighttime fantasies. Sincerely, Bulmaveg Otaku.


Chapter 12:
PB and A Revisited


The next evening was busy and excited at Capsule Corps. Bunni Briefs had invited all the neighbors as well as company employees and set up for a party worthy of royalty and superstars. Bulma and Trunks arrived home to a mass of people all shouting congratulations and wishing her and the baby well. She smiled and showed off her beautiful boy to any that wanted to see until she thought she might collapse from exhaustion.
“Papa,” she whispered when her father showed up to introduce another important board member to his first grandson, “I think we’ve had enough for one day.” She hugged the quietly sleeping new born to her chest and started walking for her room. Her father nodded and began shooing people back towards the buffet table.
Up in her room surrounded by peace and quite once again she watched her son sleep. Her chest swelled with such an intense feeling of love that she thought her heart might burst open. She cradled the little body to her chest and wondered if she would ever be able to put the little guy down.
The hairs on the back of her neck slowly rose. She glanced up slowly and saw a flicker of a shadow on the balcony. Standing, she walked over to the wide open double doors, but whoever it was had already gone. She smiled softly and walked back inside her room.



After a couple days of being pampered and catered to by her mother and father Bulma began to feel a bit restless. She gathered some baby supplies and her little son and carried him to her empty lab. Un-capsulating one of the baby cribs, she set it up next to her desk and placed the wiggling boy in it carefully. She went back to work, going over her notes and organizing her current projects. She found a folded piece of paper tucked in one of her work journals and read it slowly. Scribbled in her own messy hand she read the list.
Mission 1: Earn Vegeta’s Trust
Mission 2: Get Vegeta to have Faith in her
Mission 3: Get Vegeta to smile
Mission 4: Become Vegeta’s Friend
She smiled sadly and shook her head. It seemed like another lifetime when she’d believed herself capable of completing those missions. She’d been so naive. She crumpled up the list and tossed it in the trash. She understood now that things were never going to be that simple with Vegeta.
A while later she was surprised to hear the door open. In walked the very Saiyan Prince her thoughts had been on all day. He strode in, his first clenched around a bundle of clothing. “I require some new armor,” he said simply as he tossed his old armor on her desk. “I would like you to duplicate this,” he said pointing.
Bulma raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. “Oh really,” she said her voice lilting with shock. “And I would feel compelled to do this for you, why?” Her question fell on deaf ears, however. Vegeta’s attention was fixed on the crib by her desk. He stared silently at the baby who’s arms were flailing aimlessly and legs kicked spastically. Bulma’s face softened and suddenly she realized the armor was probably just an excuse.
“Vegeta, meet Trunks,” she said stepping forward. “Trunks, this is your daddy.” She indicated the frowning Saiyan. Two pairs of eyes locked. Vegeta stood still and frowned while Trunks continued to work on his coordination skills. Bulma watched in silent wonder as Vegeta frowned into the crib, seemingly transfixed.
Vegeta grunted. “Trunks?” he snorted the name with disgust. “What kind of name is Trunks?” he looked back at Bulma for the first time in several minutes.
“It’s a human name. My father’s actually. I figured since he would be raised by humans and grow up in a human world that it was only fitting.” She sighed. She wasn’t really angry with Vegeta, but there was a sort of constant throbbing in her chest whenever he was around either in body or in her thoughts. Which seemed to be mostly all the time.
Vegeta looked back at his son. His hand raised slightly, hesitantly he reached into the crib and let the tiny boy wrap his hand around one of his fingers. Vegeta’s mouth twitched. “He will be strong.” He stated quietly. “It’s too bad he’s such an ugly little mut,” he smirked and pulled his hand away.
Bulma snorted with laughter but didn’t point out the fact that Trunks was the spitting image of his father, minus the hair and the eye color, of course. She smiled as Trunks started to cry. Vegeta pinched his eyes shut and shook his head as though he had a headache coming on.
“Thanks a lot, Vegeta,” she said as she reached into the crib and pulled Trunks into her arms. “Did that mean man scare you, Trunks,” she asked, glaring at Vegeta from the corner of her eye. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him bother you anymore...” she cooed and shushed him until he quieted down. “I’ll try to have something ready by next week,” she told the scowling prince after a minute.
“Fine,” he grunted and turned towards the door.
“Hey, Vegeta!” Bulma called after him. He turned and looked at her, his face stony, his eyes blank. “Thanks.” She knew she was probably blushing now. “For taking me to the hospital, I mean.” she looked down at her contented child. “We probably wouldn’t have made it in time if it weren’t for you. So, Thanks.”
Vegeta’s eyes softened slightly for a fraction of a second. Then he grunted and walked out. Bulma placed Trunks back in the crib and picked up Vegeta’s armor. She examined the material and the design. After several minutes she had figured out several ways to improve on what he already had and started drawing up the plans.


A few days later Bulma left Baby Trunks with her mother and went to deliver the finished product to Vegeta. She carried one whole suit as well as a capsule that contained a wardrobe with several more. She knocked on the door to his bedroom even though she was certain he was still outside training. It was early yet and he probably wouldn’t finish for another few hours. All the better. She didn’t think it was a good idea for them to be around each other.
She laid the uniform across the bed making certain he would see it when he came in later and placed the capsule on top of it, right in the center. She fingered the material of the under garment. It was silky to the touch, but she knew for a fact that it could reflect an energy blast up to 50 kilo-joules and could withstand over 17 tons of torque before it would tear. Quite an upgrade from his other suit. She’d taken the original design and incorporated some of the same materials she used in G.S. 2.1.
She frowned as her hand slid off the fabric and fell back to her side. She knew it didn’t really matter what she’d done. Vegeta was never going to appreciate all her hard work. She might as well be beating her head against a titanium wall. He was so stubborn and selfish. He never thought of anyone but himself. She clenched her fist and, just for a minute, let all the hurt and the anger she felt towards him run rampant. Her nails dug in to her skin making half-moon expressions of her pain. She hardly noticed, even when blood began to trickle between her fingers and over her knuckles. Her eyes burned and soon there were tears running chaotic patterns over her cheeks down to her chin and on to her neck. Her chest and stomach clenched as though someone had tossed her torso into a garbage compacter. The pressure stole her breath and for a second she wasn’t sure if she’d ever breathe again. Her heart pounded futilely against the cage of her chest. Each bum-bump of it’s beating filled her body with the torment and hopelessness she felt. Until each cell of her body was saturated with the bitter, sharp pain of her desperation and frustration.
She drew a cool, calming breath, in through her nose. The swelling of her lungs released the invisible bands on her chest, quieted her thrumming heart and washed away the heartache. With her exhale she let go of all that negative emotion and expelled it into the air like tiny, tiny razor blades that were no longer being forced through her veins.
She nearly sobbed with the relief. She could still her feelings for Vegeta smoldering like a small blackened coal in the bottom of her heart, but for now the hate and the anger were gone. She’d know who he was all along. Before Namek, before Frieza, before she’d made him her little project. She’d chosen to worm her way into his life and she’d chosen to let their relationship turn physical.
The pain and torment he must of suffered in his life had shaped and molded him into the hardened warrior that he was today. She could still see the goodness in him. She knew that underneath that fired exterior there was passion and even the capacity for love and friendship. She’d seen it in the way Vegeta had helped her friends, the way he touched her at their most intimate moments, and yes, even the way that he looked at his son. She hadn’t been wrong about Vegeta having the possibility of being more, of being better. What she understood now was that she would not be the one to show it to him. Only Vegeta himself would be able to convince the dark prince of the existence of light in his own soul.
All she could do was show him the goodness in herself and others and hope that someday he might recognize in himself what she already saw. She had to believe that the day might come that a miracle might happen. She had to believe in Vegeta and the man that he could be. She would continue to help him and, Kami help her, to love him. And someday... maybe.
She raised a hand to wipe the drying tears from her face but stopped when she noticed the blood on her fingers. Now that she could see the little slices in her epidermis they suddenly hurt like hell. She winced as she examined them knowing they would not be the last taste of pain she experience because of...
“Vegeta!” she gasped as she turned to leave and spotted him standing in the doorway. His face was lacerated and bruised on one side and he was leaning against the door frame as though it were the only thing keeping him on his feet. His condition melted her shock into concern. “You look awful!” she stepped towards him, her own minor injuries forgotten.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled and stepped into the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked, but he didn’t even sound like he had the energy to be angry.
“I was just bring that armor you requested by.” Bulma waved at the bed and the things she’d placed there to help prove her case. “Kami, Vegeta...” she whispered as he stood, bleeding on the carpet. He took a step into the room and nearly collapsed face first. Bulma stepped forward and caught his weight. She kept him from face planting in the carpet but that was about it. His weight brought her to her knees and she struggled to keep them both upright. “What did you do to yourself?” she whispered trying to examine his facial wounds.
“I just... finished the... level 50 exercise in... 920... times gravity,” He coughed harshly and she was relieved when there wasn’t any blood in that cough.
“Are you trying to kill yourself,” she asked rhetorically as she supported his weight and helped him to the bed. She leaned him against the headboard and then used one hand to sweep his new suit onto the floor, along with the capsule she’d worked so hard on. Bulma grunted as she lifted his legs onto the bed and helped him settle under the covers.
“I just need... some sleep...” he breathed, his body seeming to collapse into the sheets.
“What you need is a doctor. And possibly a straight jacket,” she muttered that last part to herself.
“No!” he coughed again and grabbed her wrist. “No doctors.” he said with a strength she was surprised he could muster. She sat next to him, his hand still wrapped around her arm.
“At least let me get a rag. So I can clean up some of this blood before you ruin these sheets completely,” she protested mildly sure he was going to pass out any second anyway and then she’d just go a head and treat him herself.
As Vegeta laid there his breathing slowed and his body relaxed more and more every second. His eyes lingered on his hand on her wrist. Under his drooping eyelids he looked up into her face. Slowly his face eased into a scowl. She watched as he carefully raised his other hand and brushed his thumb over the partially dried streaks on her cheek.
Bulma forced herself not to melt under his light caress. It had been so many months since he’d let her get this close to him. She had missed him and his touch. She gave him an awkward shrug and turned her face away from him. He studied her for a second more and then raised the hand he held, turning her palm up to examine the marks there. She turned back and looked down at them. The little cuts were already scabbing over and the bleeding had long since stopped.
“I did this,” he whispered. It was not a question.
Bulma pulled her hand away and stood up. “No, I just... cut myself in the lab. It’s nothing.” She hid her hands behind her back, but Vegeta had already seen her pain.
“Liar,” he said, suppressing another cough.
“I’m going to be okay,” Bulma stated putting a note of steal in her voice. “It’s the self-destructive alien prince that is entirely too fond of overdoing it that I’m worried about. Stay put, I’m going to go get something to clean you up.”
“Why do you give a damn,” he asked, his voice was harsh, but when Bulma looked back at him she could see the genuine curiosity in his eyes.
“That is a very good question, Vegeta,” she admitted shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. “I guess... I give a damn because whether you’re the strongest most ruthless man I know or not, you’re still just a man. And like it or not that means you don’t deserve to be alone. At least in my book. So get used to it. You aren’t as evil as you think you are and you aren’t going to scare me away, no matter what.” And with that she left the room. When she returned with first aid kit he was unconscious.


Vegeta arose the next morning and went back to training. Bulma was not in the least surprised by that. She returned to working in the lab and caring for her son. Baby Trunks was a ray of sunshine in her somewhat dismal mess of a life. He was a very good baby, easy to smile and laugh and he was pretty good about sleeping through the night.
The weeks past and Bulma recovered fully from the birth. She had to hit the gym for a couple months to get her pre-pregnancy body back in top shape but her high metabolism and naturally great body made it relatively easy. Her hair had grown rapidly through out her pregnancy and now it was past the bottom of her shoulder blades. She kept it pulled up most of the time. It was always getting in her way and Trunks was constantly trying to wrap his little fist in her locks and pull with all his might. Which was quite hard. Vegeta was right about that. He was already insanely strong for an infant. She needed to make an appointment to get it cut, she thought as she sat playing with her son.
“Where’s Trunks?” Bulma giggled, her hands over her eyes. She pulled her hands away and smiled at him. “There’s my baby boy!” she laughed as the baby gurgled happily. “You wanna get a snack? Huh? Mommy needs something sweet,” She placed the baby in his portable rocker and carried him into the kitchen. She set him carefully on the counter and made sure he was stable before pulling open the fridge. She examined the contents looking for just the right thing to clench her craving. Eyeing the fruit crisper she pulled it open and grabbed out an apple. “This is one of mommy’s favorites!” she said loudly for the baby’s benefit. “Just hang on while I grab the peanut butter.” She set the fruit on the counter and pulled open the cupboard. “Here we go, Trunks! Now, you aren’t old enough for this yet, but don’t worry. Someday soon you’ll be lucky enough to join your momma in partaking in the most daring fruit/condiment combination since Strawberries and Whipped Cream.” She made faces at him while she sliced up the apple.


Vegeta heard his stomach growl loudly. His training was once again at a stand still. It seemed no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how many grueling hours he spent stressing his mental and physical limits he just couldn’t break the barrier. He was tired and hungry and he was starting to loose faith. He shut off the Simulator and toweled the sweat from his brow. He needed a break. And some food.
He stalked angrily into the house, his frustration rolling off him like fumes from a toxic waste dump. He slammed the door on the way into the main housing facilities and barely kept himself from punching a hole in the wall. He was starting to loose control of himself. His temper was itching for the littlest excuse to flare up.
He entered the kitchen to find the Woman standing at the counter holding something up to his brat who was seated in some kind of carrying device.
“Here you go, Trunks. Go ahead, make some applesauce for mommy,” she laughed as his little fist closed around the small slice of apple. She dipped another slice in the open peanut butter container and bit it off smiling as her son pulverized the fruit into mash. “See it’s fun!” she laughed as the baby waved his chubby little arm and tossed apple goo all over himself.
She bent over to retrieve a cleaning rag from a drawer and Vegeta found his gaze lingering on her generous curves. Her hair was tied back in a single band, but it swung over her shoulder and draped across her arm in a very enticing way as she closed the drawer . He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts, but his frustration had already shifted gears. His temper had subsided in exchange for another wholly opposite kind of emotion. It had been many months since he’d been with the Woman. Considering his problems a different kind of release might be called for.
Bulma gasped in surprise as a pair of strong arms appeared around her waist and she was suddenly pulled back against a firm and familiar body. Her stomach turned into butterflies and her heart relocated to her throat as a face buried itself in her neck.
“Wha... What are you doing, Vegeta?” she asked frozen in place.
“What does it look like, Woman?” he spoke into her neck, his voice was deep and rough and she could feel the vibrations of it against her skin. Vegeta slid one hand up to her breasts and another down over her hip. His hands moved in a possessive exploratory manner that brought heat to Bulma’s cheeks, as well as a few other places.
Bulma still held the washcloth in one hand and a half eaten apple slice in the other. Her traitorous body was doing cheers and cartwheels inside but she had not yet decided what to do. She felt one hand disappear from her body only to have it slowly pulling out her hair band an instant later. She lost the battle to repress a shudder and she felt Vegeta press his face into her now loose hair and breath deeply. Her knees threatened to give and her hands lowered to the counter of their own volition.
Vegeta let the scent of the Woman fill his senses. ‘Yes...’ he though, ‘This is what I want...’ He moved his face back to her neck and began making a trail of kisses and nibbles from the back of her ear to her collar bone. He pulled her back against him and ground his hips into her ass. He smirked as she moaned softly, her body relaxing slowly against his. Any fear that she might reject his advances disappeared then and he slid a hand up her shirt to her even larger then normal breasts.
He was careful as he kneaded the sensitive orbs, bringing another pleasurable utterance from her lips as she leaned her head back on his shoulder and arched her back to press herself into him more firmly. He was trying to decide whether to throw her over his shoulder and march her upstairs or just take her here against the kitchen counter when they were interrupted.
A glob of mashed apple had fallen into Baby Trunks’ eye and he started to wail. Bulma went stiff in Vegeta’s arms at the sound. Vegeta growled, but she ignored him and turned to the baby, pulling away from him.
“Oh, Trunks! I’m so sorry, baby. You got some in your eye, didn’t you?” She quickly ran the cloth under some water and then moved quickly to clear away the offending mess. “I have to get him cleaned up,” she said over her shoulder as she wiped down the rest of the boy’s face. She then picked him up and started brushing off his clothes. “Oh, Kami, he’s got it everywhere...” she mumbled. Secretly she was just as pissed about the interruption as Vegeta was, but at the same time she was glad. She just wasn’t ready to go jumping back into Vegeta’s bed just yet.
“I’m gonna have to change him now,” she said, her face halfway apologetic. “Excuse me,” she said as she slipped past the snarling Saiyan and made for the nursery.
Vegeta stood shaking his face a mask of fury and downright homicidal mania. His anger was back but his lust had not abated in it’s wake. Now he was twice as frustrated and there was no end in sight. His torment seemed infinite. There was less then a year until the androids arrived and he had yet to ascend. And to top it all off it seemed he was to be forever distracted by that infernal Woman and her unholy body. And now, with a baby in the picture it seemed he was going to be thwarted from even that release.
It was too much! He slammed his fist down on the marble counter top and effectively obliterated the rest of the apple into a soggy paste. He was losing control of everything. He had to get out of this place! Staying a moment longer could possibly threaten his last shred of sanity. He practically flew out of the house and around to the back of the complex. Sure enough his original Capsule Corps. 3 was parked, vacant and silent.
He charged on board and powered up the engines. Checking to make sure the fuel gage was on full he silently praised the old man’s attention to detail. He set the launch sequence and, without looking back, blasted into the frozen emptiness of space.


Bulma heard the roar of the rockets as she finished fastening Trunks fresh and clean dipper. It took her a second to place the noise and then, realizing what it probably was, she scooped up the baby and took off for the yard. She reached the freshly made scorch marks just in time to see the space ship wink out of sight. Her father and mother came running around the side of the complex about the same time.
“What’s going on?” Her father shouted over the last of the noise.
“Did someone take your father’s ship?” Bunni asked Bulma as her eyes searched the sky.
Bulma stood stunned for a minute before she could answer either of them. “Yeah, I think it was Vegeta. He’s gone.” she stated her eyes moving over the now empty yard.
“Oh, dear,” her mother said in her vacant way, “I wish I’d know he was leaving. I’d have packed him a lunch.”
“He didn’t even ask if he could use the ship,” Her father muttered grumpily, his mustache twitching.
“Well that’s Vegeta for you,” Bulma sighed. “Didn’t even say goodbye.” She curled the half naked baby against her. “I guess your daddy doesn’t take rejection very well,” she half laughed. “But don’t worry, Trunks. Your daddy will be back. I know he will.” She turned and carried her son into the house. ‘I just know it...’ she thought, and was surprised to discover that she really did.