Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Proximity Protection ❯ Protection or not? ( Chapter 1 )

Proximity and Protection

By Trynia Merin.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z. Akira Toriyama does. DBZ is licensed and owned by Shonen Jump, Toei Animation Co. Ltd. Shuisha Bird Studios.

 

A/N: Another stupid plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. More VxB smut.

 

By the time Bulma turned around, brandishing the scouter she saw nobody there. Frustration flushed her hot and she realized she had lost her audience. Only the shut door answered her question as to where Yamcha had gone. Grumbling she said, “That sneak! He walked out on me!”

 

Or maybe you drove him away, Bulma thought to herself as she turned the scouter over and over in her hands. Sighing she lifted the device to her ear and used both hands to clip it on. A small switch secured it in place, and she felt the suction pressure engage. Across her left eye the world had turned emerald green. A simple press of the button later and she saw a target flicker across with small crosshairs. A fast retreating ping of sizable energy told her where Yamcha was. Or rather where he was rapidly flying away towards the west.

 

Turning, Bulma then followed the brighter bleep of something flaring on the edge of the scouter. It decreased in intensity and held level at 100,000. Rapidly it was entering the complex, and she could tell it was getting closer to her location.

 

“Vegeta,” she thought, turning to the door that suddenly clicked. It swung to, and slammed against the far wall as the Prince himself marched arrogantly into the lab.

 

“I insist woman that you repair…” he began, and then stopped when his dark eyes registered her standing there near the middle lab bench. Pinned under the scrutiny of that hard black stare she froze. Still the sight of him unnerved her, though she had felt quite sorry for him all covered in bandages. Then the fear evaporated and she realized her heart was pounding for a much different reason.

 

“What the hell are you doing with that scouter?” Vegeta grunted, closing the gap between them. Uncomfortably close he approached, and pointed with a strong finger towards her ear.

 

“It's the one that your dead underling had,” Bulma said as nonchalantly as possible.

 

“Figures you'd be playing with that piece of junk when you should be fixing those bots like I requested earlier today,” Vegeta snorted unimpressed. “Wasting your time is wasting mine!”

 

“Well some of us have lives other than just supporting your breakneck training, your Nastiness,” Bulma shot back, feeling her blood pumping.

 

“If it wasn't for my breakneck training you'd be dead in three years! I suppose such a simple task fixing such low grade machines is beyond your limited human mind,” Vegeta taunted.

 

“Even low grade human minds need rest Vegeta,” Bulma said, swallowing hard. Her intellect clicked quickly with the possibilities. As long as he found a use for them Vegeta wouldn't let harm come to them would he? Despite all his insults he needed her and her father's expertise in the Gravity training equipment.

 

“Then stop lazing about and get those damn bots fixed!” Vegeta snapped irritated as he spun on his heel. She caught sight of how tightly that spandex stretched over his backside at that moment, and felt a wave of heat spread from her belly to nether regions. There it was again, tingles of what seemed more like arousal than fear.

 

“I would get them fixed if I got properly SLEEP at night!” she shouted impulsively.

 

Vegeta turned his head slightly and grunted, “What was that, wench?”

 

Heart rising into her throat she stammered, “That's right! I haven't gotten any sleep because I think there's someone sneaking in at night that's why!”

 

“You what?” Vegeta blinked, turning completely around to gaze at her with only mild interest. “What are you babbling about? What feeble excuse is it now?”

 

“Something's been keeping me awake. And because I'm only a feeble woman in your eyes, I can't rest securely. Not without your help, Vegeta,” Bulma said, lowering her voice. Vegeta's look of irritation blended into one of puzzlement. Naturally she disagreed with his chauvinistic views of the female sex, and those words were laced with sarcasm. Yet she did need him as much as he needed her.

 

“Explain,” he asked, stepping closer. Her lack of a snappy rejoinder had caught his attention and she could tell from the twitching of his eyes that he was caught a bit off guard. However the royal mask reasserted itself when he frowned into his default expression.

 

“I need your help Vegeta. If I don't get it, I won't be able to do any repairs properly because I will continue to go without sleep. And the less sleep I get, the longer you'll wait for your bots to be fixed,” Bulma ended.

 

“So you admit your weakness,” he snickered in mean triumph. “You humans are hopeless. So what excuse do you have now?”

 

“I'm asking for your help Vegeta. Do you want me to beg for it?” Bulma asked, and then snapped her mouth shut. Especially at his smirk curling the edge of his mouth.

 

“How amusing,” Vegeta answered, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

 

“Vegeta, I've been hearing something weird in my room, and I can swear someone was in there watching me. I want you to sleep with me so I don't…” she began, but then clapped a hand over her mouth after she realized just what she said.

 

"You want me to what?" he blinked. For a whole second he fell silent, simply staring at Bulma in complete shock. His cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink much like his reaction to when she'd called him `cute' a year or so ago. From how intensely hot her face suddenly felt she guessed she must be blushing too.

 

“Uh… well… I mean sleep with me as sleep in my room,” Bulma chuckled a bit, twisting a lock of hair around one finger. Bulma saw him glance off to one side and grunt before he turned his back to her. However he did not leave the room. She waited for two minutes in silence, watching his fists clench and unclench. Would he leave or wouldn't he?

 

“You want me to sleep in YOUR room, in your bed? With a weak vulgar woman such as you?” Vegeta repeated, not facing her. “That's all?”

 

“Yes… that's right,” Bulma nodded; surprised he hadn't equated sex with sleeping in a bed. But that couldn't be right from how shocked he acted.

 

“And you claim that this will help you sleep better, and thus insure you will affect sufficient repairs on my Gravity Chamber?” Vegeta asked, only partly turning his torso towards hers. “And that the only request you ask of me is to be present because you're too scared to sleep in your own room?”

 

“That's it,” Bulma said quickly. “I need a bodyguard… I mean I need you to make sure that I'm not going crazy.”

 

“I'm not your servant, Bulma,” Vegeta snorted.

 

Bulma combed hands through her curly fringe of hair. As genially as she could she said, “But you do need me to help you service those `worthless pieces of junk' right? I'm just asking for a simple favor. One or two nights where you're waiting in my room. Consider it like hunting… I mean you do like to hunt…”

 

“You really do ask the stupidest questions,” Vegeta said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Though if you jump all over and ravish me before my so called stalker does,” Bulma joked, winking at him.

 

“Don't make me sick,” Vegeta answered, frowning at her. “Why anyone would want to ravish someone as ugly and loudmouthed as you are is beyond me.”

 

“Chicken,” Bulma said quietly, with a playful look in her eyes. “Are you scared of me?”

 

“Humph! Fine, I'll do it,” Vegeta answered neutrally. “Just to shut you up and make sure you do what's asked of you. And to stop you comparing me to food items that denote cowardice.”

 

“Okay, good,” Bulma inhaled deeply, not sure if she could see an odd gleam in his eyes or not. “I'll be in my room by nine.”

 

“Ten,” Vegeta answered. “I'm still training before then.”

 

“Deal,” Bulma agreed. Vegeta nodded slowly and then turned on his heel with military precision. He said nothing else as he marched out of the lab. Bulma watched him while still holding her breath.

 

“What the hell am I thinking?” she asked herself, catching her reflection in the polished side of a gleaming metal cased bot. “He must know about the birds and the bees, because when I said `sleep with me' he jumped to conclusions. But why did I feel the need to clarify things?”

 

She would ask herself this many times between now and bedtime. Just to shut her up and get her to do what she was told to was the reason he gave for agreeing. Obviously the idea of sex with her had crossed his mind with how shy he became. Perhaps he had seriously considered her comment warning him not to be `naughty'. This showed he had some standards of behavior that were considered royal and acceptable despite the fact he was a ruthless murderer. Why should he care about social concerns and image unless it was part of his whole image as a superior being. One who was above mere appetites such as sexual desire perhaps? Did that mean sex was just an itch to be scratched or something to be avoided at all costs?

***

Glancing at her bedside table clock Bulma found herself tossing aside another trade journal. Already she had put on her most comfortable sweatpants and long T shirt. She finally got up from where she sat waiting on the side of her large queen seized bed. Crossing the room she sat down in front of her dresser and grabbed the hairbrush to start running it through her hair.

 

She tugged open one drawer and hunted through it, pushing aside the neatly rolled panties she had assorted into days of the month. Then tugged open the drawer under it. A few nightshirts and teddies were assembled there. Pulling open the drawer to the left she then fingered through the soft silk of several pairs of button up pajamas. Frowning she pushed the drawer of teddies shut and grabbed a pair of blue silk pajamas with long bottoms. Then carrying them she dropped them on the bed. Soon the T shirt and sweatpants were neatly folded at the foot of the bed as she buttoned the front of her pajamas.

 

Somewhere between sexy and not so sexy perhaps, she asked herself, glancing at the mirror. Somehow she wanted to convey the image that she wouldn't be rattled by some unknown prowler, yet she didn't feel up to parading her assets. Fear of such a night prowler had limited her choices from slinky lacy shorts and a negligee to the capsule sweats. When she had slept with Yamcha she had resorted to silk pajamas, and she felt it was a nice compromise. A balance between fear and security.

 

What did Vegeta wear when he went to bed she wondered. Bulma thrust her feet into a pair of bunny slippers and padded over to the windows. Drawing aside a lacy pink curtain she glanced down at the spherical black and white Capsule 4 parked permanently in the yard. Sometimes she would see Vegeta lying on top of the ship, staring up into the sky. Other times she saw the lights through the circular portholes indicating his nightly training sessions. He rarely emerged save to eat or inform them of the damages they needed to address. Sometimes he would fly away for days at a time into the wilderness, only to return with torn clothes or cracked armor.

 

“Not as much as a thank you for his most recent set,” she thought forlornly when she had given him her new design. All he had said was a simple grunt and snatched the bodysuit and breastplate out of her hands before marching out. However it was an improvement from calling it a piece of crap or inferior shit. He only wore the armor when he would `vanish' for his sojourns, not in the GR itself. Once or twice he'd dumped the armor in a heap at her workroom door, smeared with blood and smirched with dust. Mostly it was animal blood, but there were times where she was tempted to run a DNA profile and wonder if it was human?

 

Bulma snapped out of her reverie, seeing the lights click out in the GR. A shadowy shape emerged, and she quickly turned away from the window. Of course the lights were out in the GR. Backing away from the window she turned and gazed at the clock. The ornate hands pointed to ten of ten. Bulma tugged down her side of the bedclothes and sat down, before pulling them up. Then she climbed out of the bed and walked to the door of her suite. She opened it on a whim and saw Vegeta standing there with a bored look on his face.

 

“Well, I'm here. Hurry up and get to sleep so I can minimize my need for this foolishness,” Vegeta grumbled.

 

“You're wearing THAT?” she pointed to his outfit. Vegeta ignored her and marched past her into the room. Glancing around him let loose with a low chuckle.

 

“Ridiculous frivolity. It's all pink and green! You must really worship flowers here,” Vegeta commented, amused at the décor.

 

“You're wearing THAT in here?” Bulma repeated, closing the door after him as he wandered around the room's perimeter. Something between fascination and disgust dictated his expression as he nudged a large stuffed unicorn in one corner.

 

“Is this room for a child or a full grown woman? Or do you actually sleep with those stuffed bits of rag?” he teased, pointing to a large net of stuffed animals strung up over the plush unicorn. He spun around, like precision machinery and surveyed the desk laden with electronic spares and piles of engineering magazines.

 

“Hey, over here,” she whistled, standing beside the bed.

 

Vegeta turned his head only towards her, and then swung his body in the same angle to stride arrogantly towards her voice. That dark blue bodysuit and well fitted breastplate seemed totally out of place amidst all the stuffed animals, pillows and ornate chairs decorating her suite. Gold toed boots ground into the thick purple nap carpet without regard for its purpose.

 

“So are you going to stare at me or go to sleep?” he asked impatiently. He stood with arms folded across his chest, scrutinizing her as she tugged the bedspread and sheets aside and tossed off her bathrobe. She caught him glimpsing her pajama clad body, and then slid under the covers.

 

“Unless you want to join me,” she teased. “Though wearing THAT…”

 

Vegeta said nothing, just sniffed and turned his head aside. Bulma shrugged, and tugged the covers up to her waist. She reached over to turn out the light, and then glanced at him. Vegeta asked, “What now?”

 

“I feel sort of weird with you staring at me like that over there! Are you going to just stand there like a statue the whole night?”

 

“You said you needed a bodyguard... Is that not what one does? Watches and guards?” Vegeta asked, frowning.

 

“You're creeping me out. You can sit down or join me in the bed,” Bulma answered. “I did say I'd feel more comfortable if you slept in my room.”

 

“Fine, whatever you wish. Just go to sleep and stop chattering idly. The night will be long enough as it is before you realize it's just your stupid overactive imagination,” Vegeta complained. Bulma pursed her lips and shook her head. No responses to an innuendo save ridicule. Predictable.

 

However Vegeta's next action surprised her. He rounded to the other side of the bed, and then sat down on the edge of it. Not bothering to remove his boots or armor he then swung around and scooted over towards the middle of the bed before resting his back against the pillows. Staring straight ahead he folded his gloved hands over his belly and closed his eyes.

 

“You could at least take your boots and armor off before climbing into a woman's bed!” Bulma yelped. “How rude!”

 

“You asked for my help, it's on my terms. Shut up and go to sleep, or I leave now,” Vegeta snapped back. “I'm lying on the damn bed!”

 

“Fine, have it your way,” Bulma fumed, feeling insulted and rejected. Yet also she couldn't' help but giggle a second later at the image of Vegeta fully clothed and battle dressed laying on her soft comfortable bed. Such a contrast was ironic and equally amusing. Vegeta said nothing to her as he continued to lie there, not even looking in her direction or paying her any mind.

 

Sighing Bulma said, “Good night.”

 

“Humph, be quiet,” he mumbled as he kept his eyes closed. Bulma leaned over and switched the light off, shaking her head at the ludicrously of the situation. IT seemed a poor substitute for having Yamcha sleeping next to her. By now he would have disrobed and slid under the covers to cuddle with her. Nothing was soft about Vegeta in comparison. All hard edges and fierceness. Yet she sometimes pushed Yamcha aside because he got too amorous or too cuddly or grabby.

 

“An action figure instead of a teddy bear,” Bulma murmured, curling up so she faced Vegeta. However knowing he was there next to her did reassure her to some extent. Listening intently in the darkness she watched the shadows intently. However all she heard was the heavy breathing of Vegeta, and her own blood pumping alongside the noises of traffic in West City.