Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Pseudo Ferocity ❯ Forbidden Fruit ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

Author's Notes: Hey everybody! Big news! Stuff actually happens in this chapter!! Well…sorta…lol. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Silversun, and Bulma Peacecraft for beta-ing!

8: Forbidden Fruit

"You took her from me…" Vegeta snarled, stalking toward the frightened man. "You took her from me, and I will MAKE YOU PAY!" He screamed, one hand shooting out to grab the cowering man, lifting him up by his shirt.

"P…Please, I'll do anything! Please, just don't hurt me!" The poor man shrieked, flailing and kicking in the air as the Saiyan held him steady above the ground.

Vegeta smirked, a chilling, malicious grin spreading across his face as he raised the human higher into the air. "It's too late for that now, human." He spat. "You took her away from me, in cold blooded murder." His voice was soft and raspy, and he let out a tiny, insane little chuckle. "And now I'm going to do the same to you."

The human looked down, terrified to the core of his very being, at the strange man, no, creature, that was holding him in the air. "Please," he begged again, "Please no…"

"Prepare to die, human scum." Vegeta laughed, a loud, chilling sound, hollow, yet full of malice. His head snapped back, the repulsive sound growing louder by the second, until it just stopped, altogether, without warning. Vegeta's head snapped up straight, and he yanked the human toward him, so close he could feel the fear radiating off the lowly being. His malevolent grin vanished, and his cruel black eyes narrowed, simmering with pure, unadulterated insanity, complete and utter madness in their dark depths. "I will have my revenge…" he whispered. "I will not stop until every last one of your lives are spilled upon the ground."

"And this is where you would plunge your fist through his chest cavity, but that's good for today." Ray Hampton stood, his entire body shaken from Vegeta's stunning performance. He swallowed thickly as Vegeta let go of the other actor's shirt, dropping him to the ground with a thump and a squeak from the poor man. His terror had been real, and staring into the Saiyan's dark eyes had been the most chilling experience in his life.

Vegeta blinked, his coal eyes closing off again, back to their usual impenetrable gaze. He squinted in the bright stage lights they had set up for the auditions, and scowled at the intense heat they gave off. He wished he had taken off his sweater before stepping onto the small, makeshift stage for his reading. Ray hadn't let him though, fearing that he would allow himself to be swayed by the intense musculature of Vegeta's body, rather than whether or not acting skill was present. As it turned out, he seemed to have an abundance of it.

"Carl, would you turn on the main lights please?" Ray shouted into the darkness, and a moment later all the ceiling lights in the studio came whooshing on as everyone winced and covered their eyes from the sudden brightness. "Well, Vegeta" he said, as the Saiyan stepped of the stage, walking toward him, "I have to say that you put on a most impressive performance. I shouldn't be telling you this," he whispered, conspiratorially, "but yours is the best audition we've seen yet."

Vegeta nodded, keeping his outward appearance passive and calm. Inwardly, he was unsettled…nervous, even. There was something about the character that he was auditioning for that struck him as being profoundly close to home.

"We've got a few more guys to see today, and then we're done with auditions," Ray continued, handing Vegeta a thick script, "but I have a good feeling that we won't see anything better than you for this particular role. Now, I'm not saying this is a solid deal yet, but I want you to read over the script, familiarize yourself with the character some more, get a hang of the story, you know the deal. Anyway, on the off chance that someone even comes close to your performance today, we'll call you in for another audition. Now, I have both your number and that of Mrs…your agent?"

"Hn." Vegeta nodded, taking the thick coiled book of paper.

"Excellent. So I'll be in touch then with either her or yourself." Ray smiled, giving Vegeta's hand a quick shake.

"Ray, you know as well as I do that there's no point in even bothering with the other auditions." Carl, an assistant casting director whispered, watching the Saiyan saunter out of the studio. "He's exactly what you're looking for. I don't think it would even be possible to find anyone more perfect for the role."

"True, true. But we can't take that chance. Besides, if he decides not to do it, we need a backup guy, right?" Ray turned back to his staff, tapping his pencil on a thick notepad he had been taking notes on. "Alright, who's next in line?"

Vegeta stepped out into the bright light of the day, holding the thick script comfortably under one arm and carrying his sweater with the other. It was beautiful out, and the city streets were packed with Chikyuu-jin shoppers, decked out in their summer clothes. He felt a little hot himself, wearing his heavy jeans and sneakers, carrying the thick hooded sweater around. And suddenly, he realized that he didn't actually own any 'casual' human shorts for hot days. Sure, he had his spandex for training, but was observant enough to realize that spandex shorts were not considered terribly hip or attractive in Chikyuu society.

Eyeing the window displays as he walked, Vegeta spotted a store that looked appropriate, and ducked inside to be greeted by a friendly teenage girl, who eyed him with an entirely inappropriate gaze in her heavily made up eyes. "Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" She cooed, batting thick eyelashes at him.

"Shorts." He said simply, looking around the store curiously.

"If you'll follow me over here, I'm sure we can find something for you." She smiled pleasantly, leading the way toward the men's section of the store.

Thirty minutes later, Vegeta left the store, wearing a pair of brand new khaki shorts. Three other pairs of shorts sat in the bag he carried, along with his jeans, sweater, and the script for Ray's movie. The salesgirl had been quite sad to see him go, and had naturally tried to coerce him to stay and try more clothing on, but the Saiyan man had been intent on leaving. He had training to do, and had no time to waste trying on foolish human clothing, though she had successfully convinced him to buy a pair of sandals, which he was wearing. His sneakers were dangling from his fingers by their laces, as he hadn't wanted to put the potentially smelly footwear in the same bag as his nice new shorts.

"Sir, you look mighty hot!" a vendor called, and Vegeta turned around to see a very strangely dressed man addressing him. "Perhaps I can interest you in an ice cream cone!"

"That depends on what flavors you have." He said, but wandered over toward the small stand. He peered through the glass casing, having a certain fondness for the cold treat. "I'll have that kind." He pointed to the bucket, "In the biggest size cone you have."

"There you go sir! Have a great day!" The vendor smiled, handing Vegeta the triple scoop cone of bubble gum ice cream. He took a lick, remembering that he would get what Bulma had called a 'Brain Freeze' if he ate it too fast.

A few feet away, a group of girls giggled and cooed, trying to make themselves look as cute as possible as the Saiyan passed, completely engrossed in his ice cream cone. They sighed and pouted as he walked past, completely ignoring the flirtatious looks they sent his way as he concentrated on licking up the melting treat, as it threatened to drip down onto his hand.

***

Caleb hopped into his convertible, tossing his briefcase on the passenger seat, pulling out of the Capsule Corporation parking lot. Patting his coat pocket, he made sure he still had the envelope Bulma had given him, rather curious to what it contained. But alas, he would probably never know, as it was addressed to Vegeta, a man likely to keep his personal life a secret.

"Ahh well," he sighed, "at least I know Bulma trusts him…I mean, if Bulma trusts him, he can't be too bad." He chuckled lightly to himself, "But then again, Bulma tends to make bad decisions when it comes to gorgeous men."

***

"I'll take that one." Bulma told the cashier, glancing hurriedly at her watch. Her lunch break was almost over and she had to be back at the office in less that fifteen minutes. Thirteen minutes, and four seconds, to be exact. The smiling old man handed her magazine over, and, stuffing it haphazardly into her briefcase, she scurried off down the sidewalk, trying her best to avoid getting her stiletto heels stuck in any cracks. She was still a little wobbly on the thin spikes, feeling much more comfortable in flats or sneakers, but the times were changing, and sadly to say, thin, feminine heels were in.

Hearing a lewd comment, accompanied by a long, low whistle from a passing car, she frowned and tugged her skirt down a few inches, cursing the static that kept it clinging to her shapely legs. Usually, she would have smiled at the comment, maybe even blow the cat-caller a kiss, or wink, but she was in far too much of a hurry to be anything but annoyed.

Popping her favorite Hoi-Poi Capsule, a cherry red, convertible-style air car, she sped off toward the Capsule Corporation Compound, her eyes constantly straying toward the briefcase on the seat beside her. Her fingers just itched to tear it open, to flip through the pages of her prize and quell the bubbling curiosity in her belly.

Arriving at the massive, dome shaped building, she encapsulated her air car and scurried up toward her office, tapping one finely pedicured foot on the elevator floor as she waited impatiently to make it's way to her level. "Oh, for the love of…" she muttered under her breath, "The stairs would have been faster!"

Finally arriving at her destination, she strode briskly toward her office, plastering on her best 'I'm busy and in a hurry so if you stop me, it had better be good' expression.

Upon entering her office, she hastily shut the door, prying open the briefcase before even sitting at her desk. Grinning in triumph, she held the glossy prize before her; the latest issue of Fashion Week Monthly; cover story, 'Emerging designer, Bruce Hoffman, blows the critics away with the racy outfits and daring models featured in his "Leather and Lace" collection!'

Fingers shaking in anticipation, she turned to page twenty-seven, and gaped at the full-page spread of Bruce flanked by his models, taking in the praise at the end of the show. And there stood Vegeta, in all his shirtless, scowling glory, wearing a pair of skintight leather pants.

Bulma swallowed heavily, blushing as she tore her eyes away and turned the page, only to see another shot of her Saiyan friend, this time in a different pair of pants, still leather, and still shirtless, but wearing gloves and carrying a cowboy hat in one hand. He was smirking directly at the camera, radiating a certain sex appeal that she had never really noticed about him.

Sure, he had always been good looking, well muscled, and mysterious…but to Bulma he had always been bossy, introverted, stuck up Vegeta. Growing up with Goku, she had always just thought of Vegeta as another good looking guy she would never date. And of course, Mrs. Briefs always fawned over the Saiyan no Ouji, even more than she did the other fighters, obviously seeing something in the temperamental little alien that Bulma herself did not notice…until she found herself unable to look away from Vegeta's smirking face.

It was the usual smirk, she was sure…but somehow…somehow it seemed almost teasing…sultry and enticing…so blatantly sexy that Bulma wondered how she ever could have missed it.

An exasperated cry escaping her suddenly dry throat, she slapped the magazine shut, throwing it onto her desk. "What the hell am I doing? It's just Vegeta…It's not like he's never smirked at me, and it's not like this is the first time I've seen him shirtless. It's no big deal! No big deal at all! So why the hell am I wasting time gawking at that stuck up little prick when I should be working!" She shouted to herself.

Probably because you'd like him to 'stuck up little prick' you. Her mind retorted.

"Oh, it's not little at all." She snapped back, vividly remembering the time she had accidentally walked in on him while he was changing.

Interesting that you find it necessary to remember something like that in such vivid detail.

"It wasn't my fault!" she squeaked to herself, "He was in the laundry room, for Kami's sake! He just stripped down in there! I was going to get some socks, damn it!" She flushed hotly, squirming in her seat as the image of Vegeta's muscular, naked body refused to leave her mind.

They had both been duly embarrassed, Vegeta even more than herself, which had come as a surprise. What with all his prancing around in skintight shorts, she had figured that nudity would not bother him so much.

Oh, come off it Bulma. You know you couldn't get it out of your head for weeks. Even now, you're blushing like a schoolgirl over a simple piece of male anatomy. You're no virgin, Bulma. It's not like you'd never seen one before. It's just because it's Vegeta. He's like the forbidden fruit, Bulma Briefs, the man you shouldn't even be thinking about.

"Shut up you. I can think about whoever I want, in any way I damn well want to!" She picked up her magazine. "Now, I'm going to read the article and if I want to stare at Vegeta in the process, then I'll do just that! If anyone has a problem with that, then they can take it up with me! Who I think about is nobody's business but mine!" She shot back aloud, picking up her magazine and propping her feet up on the large, oak desk.

Bulma…I'm your brain. Everything you do is my business.

***

Vegeta walked out of the elevator, surprised to see Caleb waiting outside of his door. "I didn't know if you were home or not." The landlord smiled, feeling much friendlier knowing that Vegeta was no competition for Bruce's affections. "I was just about to ring the bell."

"Well I'm here now." The Saiyan said shortly, "what is it?"

"I have something for you." Caleb said, patting down his pockets. From somewhere within his suit-coat, he procured a crisp white envelope, with the word 'Vegeta' scrawled across the front in a familiar, looping hand.

"Bulma." Vegeta said simply, more of a statement than a question. It smelled like her, the subtle, feminine scent still clinging to the paper, still sweet to his senses, even through Caleb's more masculine odor.

"Yeah…I didn't know you two were friends." The blonde ventured, curious about the connection between his strange new tenant, and his childhood friend.

"Neither did I." Vegeta mumbled, taking the envelope from Caleb's outstretched hand. He turned to unlock his door, but stopped, feeling the weight of a hand on his shoulder. Twitching slightly, he shrugged the offending palm away, turning to face his landlord.

"She…I think she's worried about you." Caleb muttered quietly, looking deep into the Saiyan's eyes, desperately trying to see something other than the cold, calculating barrier of black. "Maybe…maybe you should call her or something…just to tell her how you're doing."

"The woman kicked me out." Vegeta snapped, throwing open his door. "If she cared about how I was doing, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

Caleb blinked in surprise, as the door slammed shut in his face with a heavy thud. Two doors down, Bruce's head poked out of his doorway, frowning worriedly. "What did you say to him?" He scolded, padding down the hall in his slippers to where his friend stood. "Come on, out with it!"

"I…I don't know." Caleb stuttered, knowing he had touched a sour note with his moody tenant. Perhaps there was more to the situation than Bulma had let on. "Come on." He said, grabbing Bruce's arm and pulling him down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Bruce whined, lurching forward, his slippers making soft slapping noises on the floor.

"We're going to your apartment, where you're going to tell me everything you know about that man over a nice vanilla-flavored cappuccino."

Vegeta sighed, leaning against the closed door, the unopened envelope grasped tightly in his fingers. He wanted to open it, desperately curious to see what she could possibly have to say to him, yet at the same time, he wanted to rip it to shreds and remove any reminders of the woman from his presence. Groaning, he pushed himself away from the door, stalking into the kitchen, where he perched himself on a stool, tearing open the envelope. Pulling out a single sheet of folded paper, a rectangular, plastic card bounced out, clattering to the floor. Vegeta ignored it, unfolding the paper, to see the Capsule Corporation logo emblazoned in the top right corner. Bulma Briefs Vice President, it read, with her work address and phone number printed below. A little further down, she had written a note in her familiar scrawling hand, and Vegeta felt a little pull in his stomach, remembering all the times he had seen that familiar penmanship adorning a plate of food in the fridge late at night.

Shaking his head, he scoffed at his own sentimentality, and fixed his brain on the written human language that had become second nature to him.

Hey there Vegeta, the note began, I suppose you're probably pretty pissed at me, aren't you? Well, maybe not completely, if you're actually taking the time to read this.

Anyway, I was really worried about you…I was so relieved when Caleb let it slip that you were staying in one of his apartments.

"Feh," he snorted, rolling his eyes at her protectiveness.

You're probably snorting right now, I bet, thinking that I should have no reason to be worried about a Saiyan Prince like yourself.

Vegeta allowed himself a small smile as he read on. She knew him so well.

Anyway, I should probably get back on topic. I suppose you've probably noticed by now that a Capsule Corp. employee expense card has fallen out. I created a company account for you and put a few thousand bucks in there. I figure that should be enough to keep you fed and sheltered for a few weeks, ne? It's all I can really do for now, because if I put any more in there, people might start to get suspicious, and I suppose you probably know all about what the rumor mill can do to a huge organization like CC. Anyway, your new pin number is 2609, so don't forget that, and don't tell anyone else, okay? I don't want some crazy thief spending CC money illegally!

Vegeta bent down, picking the blue plastic card up off the floor, turning it over in his hands before he read on. He'd seen Bulma use one of these before, once when she had taken him shopping for normal human clothing, insisting to the stubborn prince that she would buy him nothing but pink unless he came with her. He quickly recalled how she had used the card, and made a point to memorize his new pin number.

I know you probably don't want to see me at all. That's why I sent this letter instead of coming to see you personally…but if you don't mind, maybe I could get your phone number from Caleb. Or you could even call me, maybe. My cell number is (780) 555-3345 if you ever feel like giving me a call. I'd like to talk to you some time. It's sort of hard to write this note, not knowing if you'll even read it. So tell you what, if you don't make any attempt to contact me, I will get your number from Caleb. You know I will! And even if Caleb doesn't know your number, Bruce will!

You know, I bet yelling through writing doesn't have nearly as good an effect as yelling in person. I shouldn't say that though, because you won't want to talk to me if I'm going to yell at you, huh?

This might not mean a lot to you Vegeta, but I am sorry, for what it's worth. I was stressed, and I shouldn't have taken that out on you.

Bulma Briefs

Vegeta frowned, looking down at the note. She was sorry, but there was no invitation back to the CC compound. In fact, she was encouraging him to stay away, giving him that card and all. Was it possible that she didn't even want him to come back?

The thought hurt a little, Vegeta realized, folding the note and tucking it back into the envelope. He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and stuffed the credit card into one of the empty card slots. His bank card was the only other one he had, and its shiny red surface peeked out at him, reminding him that he had earned it by himself. That bankcard wasn't a hand out from Bulma, the wench who thought he couldn't survive on his own.

Growling, he snapped his wallet shut and set it on the counter, vowing not to use Bulma's expense account. What was he doing, even bothering to waste brainpower remembering the stupid pin number? What an insult! A hand out! Who did she think he was? Some lowly bum on the street? He was the Prince of the Saiyans, by damn, and there was no way in hell he'd degrade himself by accepting it! He didn't need her money or her pity. He'd be fine all by himself…

But he couldn't help wishing that wasn't the case.

Mp3 of the Day: Hrmm…okay, "Metro" by System of A Down. It's a remake of an older song, nothing like the original though. I like it better than most System. Less screaming and anger, though there are a few mentions of that nasty 'F' word, so be warned if you're easily offended. Really, it's not even that bad though.

&nbs p;