Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Dusty Trail ❯ 5 Minutes ( Chapter 2 )

I don't like long author's notes, and I don't like authors who beg for reviews. The disclaimer was in the last chapter, and you already know how slow I update, so unless something important comes up, this is all you'll hear from me from this point forward. Happy Reading! -- Sluggy

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Chapter Two

5 Minutes

Stepping along the neat, pebble-strewn pathway that led to a small clearing by the frog pond, Bulma found herself growing a little nervous at meeting with the tall, burly alien. She put on a friendly smile and waved to the various faces of green that grinned warmly back at her as she passed, calling out greetings to little Dende and Scargo who chased each other around the legs of a large triceratops, but as Earth's former enemy came into view, the unease in her stomach turned into a full-fledged knot. Hovering a meter above the water, Piccolo seemed to be in a deep, meditative state, and Bulma was worried at what would happen if she accidentally surprised him. She still had her looks to think about, after all. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and called out to him softly, "Pi-Piccolo?"

Instead of a hasty bolt of ki through her head, or a startled splash from the pond as she had been expecting, the turban-clad warrior merely opened his eyes and looked at her with a hint of annoyance. In a way, Bulma would have opted for getting shot at than to have his piercing gaze cut through her much longer. The deep rumbling from his chest knocked her out of her gawking trance and brought her back to the task at hand.

"Would you happen to know…um…"she trailed off. `Come ON, Bulma!' the woman berated her self. `He's on our side now! It's not like he's going to eat you. Act like he's in his underwear or something!' At the mental image, Bulma gave an un-ladylike snort and relaxed somewhat. This was still the Demon King, after all.

"You want to know where Vejiita is, don't you?"

"Yes, actually. How did you know I was going to ask you that?" queried the confused scientist, blinking.

"There's no other reason you would risk life and limb to actually talk to me, human. That's how. Do you miss your little Saiyajin pet?" mocked the large, green alien with a little smirk. Gaining a resolve that often seemed to come in response to irritation for her, Bulma smiled wryly back at the perceived insult.

"Yeah, he ran away before I could collar him, and now I'm going to be ticketed for violating the city leash-law. Just tell me where he went or I'll sic my mother on you. She'll force so many sweets down your gullet, an entire ocean of water wouldn't be able to cleanse them out of your oh-so-delicate system."

Smiling a sharp-toothed grin at the retort, Piccolo unfolded from his cross-legged midair posture and walked past her. No longer fazed by his presence, Bulma felt her tension ebb as she moved to catch up to him, his long strides easily carrying him out of the clearing and to the main doors of the compound. Stopping to wait for her at the entrance, Piccolo lowered his head in concentration as Bulma hastily rummaged through a corner bureau, finding an air-car capsule and pocketing it, in case she needed to go on a reconnaissance mission. Turning back to the Capsule Corp. front entrance, Bulma entered in the security code and waited with her tall companion for the doors to open.

Moments later, Bulma let out a loud shriek and darted behind the caped back of the Namek. There, glaring up at the large alien, his arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe was Vejiita in all his brooding glory.

"I think I sense him this way," Piccolo stated, deadpan, pointing to the shorter warrior. Vejiita merely `hmph'ed and brushed past the tall Namek, heading to the elevator leading up to the living quarters of the building, sniffing the air.

Grumbling under her breath, Bulma haphazardly smacked Piccolo and followed the displaced prince through the foliage. "Cookies…"

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"Mom! Your Saiyajin garbage disposal has returned, safe and sound!" called out Bulma as she trailed after Vejiita, kitchen-bound as usual. In reality, Vejiita looked a bit harried, but it wasn't as if she was about to tell him to relax. She doubted that he even knew how, considering how intensely he lived day to day. `Well what do you expect, Bulma? He's a fighter, and by what you hear, he wasn't even liked by his own men. Of course he's going to be stressed out. Who could honestly watch their back twenty-four seven?' she reasoned to herself.

"I am not a refuse discarding device, woman. Do not compare me to that contraption," grumbled said disposal. Vejiita walked up to Mrs. Briefs quietly and crossed his arms, as if waiting for a handout. Almost on cue, her mother took a spoon, scooped some cookie dough out of her industrial-sized mixing bowl and handed it to Vejiita to taste. Bulma watched agape as the proud prince, instead of taking the proffered spoon, actually leaned over and took a small bite of the uncooked dough. Nodding his approval, Vejiita strode back out of the kitchen and apparently to his room where Bulma heard the shower turn on.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" cried Bulma, incredulously. How had her mom, one of the ditziest people on the planet, gotten the arrogant bastard of a Saiyajin prince to eat out of her hand? Literally!

"What was what, dear?"

"You're FEEDING him now?!"

"Bulma, honey," began her mother in a quiet, plaintive tone, "it's the only way he'll eat anything that he hasn't made himself."

"I can't believe you'd cater to someone that insanely picky, mom! I thought Saiyajins ate anything and everything. They're like goats!" Bulma exclaimed, exasperated.

"Dear, he's not picky. He's careful," her mom stated somberly. Noting the older woman's unusual stoic posture and composed face, Bulma calmed herself and cast her mother a curious glance. "Do you remember how Vejiita used to leave the building in the middle of the night and not return until dawn, looking like he had, well, seen better days? We all thought he was training in solitude, which was partly true. But Bulma, during that time he never ate anything that I made for him. He was out hunting. Dinosaurs, I'm guessing, by his descriptions."

"Hunting? But why would he do that? It's totally unnecessary and… and…barbaric!" What was confusing her more was why Vejiita would lower himself to actually discuss anything with her mother, of all people.

"He doesn't really trust us, dear. Hunting was becoming more trouble than it was worth to him, and said that the game was `boring and barely palatable'. So we made a deal. His system can filter out almost any toxin in small amounts, so instead of taking the plunge and gobbling up everything like that dear boy Goku, he comes to me and I offer him a little bite first. He decides if it's safe to eat. He only seems to trust me enough not to poison him after his taste test. I'm not sure why, dear. I could never hurt such a cute face! But anyway, so far, he hasn't refused anything I've cooked for him, not even the rutabaga loaf! So, I can without a doubt tell you that he is NOT picky," she winked. "AND that he has a sweet tooth."

"A big one," came the low voice behind her. Whirling around with a squeak, Bulma glared at the amused Saiyajin, smirking to no doubt show off his big-ol' teeth.

"You ass! How long have you been horning in on our conversation?" she queried with an indignant huff. Vejiita walked around her to take a seat at the kitchen table, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, feet propped up on the chair next to his and crossed at the ankle. Hmph. As if she wanted to sit there anyway.

"The conversation was concerning myself, was it not? I believe I have the right to know what is being said about my person," he retorted haughtily. Her mom giggled. Bulma sighed and yanked out the chair from under his feet and turned it around, straddling it backwards, giving up trying to comprehend the two as she sat next to him. The prince let out an amused snort and openly stared at her.

Bulma could feel the gooseflesh start to rise on her skin. Piccolo's glare was bad enough, but Vejiita's could melt steel. Hoping to avoid unseemly squirming, Bulma rested her arms on the table in front of her and laid her forehead on them, closing her eyes. She could just imagine Vejiita's smirk widening at "winning" this little game of his. Why didn't she just leave, anyway? `Because I was here first, damn it! I'm not going to be intimidated by that jerk!' she told herself.

"You know, he has a point dear," remarked her mother, back to her cheerful goodness.

"Yeah, on his head," she mumbled back, the blackness behind her eyelids making her forget that the sharp-hearing Saiyajin was still in the room. That is, until she heard an annoyed snort and turned her gaze sideways to see him with his elbows on the table, idly fingering his spiky hair, oblivious of her scrutiny. `Good thing he doesn't know Earth slang yet,' Bulma mused with a little grin. If she wasn't so worried about a royal temper tantrum, she might think of teaching him the finer points of put-downs. From what she knew of him, he would certainly get some use out of them.

"Have you not gotten an eyeful yet, woman?" asked Vejiita with a soft growl. Blinking, Bulma felt heat rise to her cheeks. So much for him being oblivious. Before she could compose herself and stammer out a response, the Saiyajin turned to her prone form and reached out to lightly stroke her hair with the back of his fingers, a curious expression on his face. Blushing deeper in confused embarrassment, Bulma held her breath, waiting for his next move. When he did not seem inclined to do anything but…pet her…she released the pent up air and scowled at him.

"I'm not a dog, Vejiita."

Grinning evilly, the prince moved his hand away. "You speak the truth. Canines are much more personable." With that, he got up from the table and walked over to her mother, snatching away a dozen warm cookies before Mrs. Briefs could swat him, and proceeded out the kitchen door, presumably into the living area.

Had she not been fuming in irritation from the man's words, she might have noticed a hint of pink creeping up on the alien's visage as well.

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Vejiita made his way to the large couch in front of the television in the living room, nibbling on his stash of warm cookies. The woman was getting to him. It seemed that every time they were in the same room together, he and Bulma could not help but get on each other's nerves. He was not quite sure, but he was beginning to believe that the woman was mocking him at every opportunity. But even more confusing was his own behavior at the situation. When working for Freeza, he would not hesitate to confront, if not destroy, anyone who displayed even inferred impertinence to his person, especially those as pathetically weak as this human female. But this woman - Bulma - he did not know why he stayed his hand.

"Vejiita, my boy! It's been a long time," came the old man's voice from the hall opening that led to the Briefs' private laboratories.

Almost choking on the stench of the doctor's burning weed-stick (which was thoroughly ruining the taste of his mate's dessert), Vejiita glared at the man and mumbled, "It has been a day and a half, idiot. Though, I am wondering as to why I did not stay away from this place altogether."

"Well, I think it probably has something to do with what you're stuffing into your mouth!" chuckled Dr. Briefs.

`Heh. Keep talking, old man, and we shall see what will be `stuffed' next,' the prince growled mentally. If there was anything he hated more than blatant disrespect, it had to be blatant CHEERFUL, disrespect. "What do you want?" he asked peevishly.

"I was just wondering if you'd be interested in undergoing a few tests…"

"No."

"Vejiita, you don't even know the nature of the tests…"

"I do not care," he interrupted the doctor again. For a genius, Dr. Briefs surely seemed to have a hard time comprehending his meaning. It was not as if Vejiita was afraid of undergoing medical testing, but he was not a lab rat. He was a prince.

"Hear me out, Vejiita. I just want a blood sample and a set of vitals…height, weight, temp, BP. The most you'd have to do is suffer through a needle prick and 5 minutes of your time. Any other information I need can be obtained through the blood sample," suggested the older man.

Vejiita glared at the doctor skeptically. "Why are you so insistent on performing these tests and obtaining these samples?" he asked with marked curiosity. The doctor had been attempting to coerce him into being his personal guinea pig for a week…since he had given up foraging for his own food and started spending the majority of his time at Capsule Corp.

"My boy, it's only for your own good. I need to know your normal vitals in case you are sick or injured. As an alien, I assume that your physical tolerances and body chemistry are different than human physiology. Did you know that Nameks possess chlorophyll in their cellular structure? Or that their natural cloning ability in fact creates species of differing genetics? Such variants should be of rare occurrence, based on environmental factors, or coming with clear genetic defects, but each individual is remarkably healthy!" informed the old goat, thoroughly impressed with the depth of information he had garnered from the creatures. As if he cared.

"Why are you remotely interested in my welfare, human?" Vejiita sneered. Of the Briefs family, he trusted the father the least. When the man was not reclusively holed up in his stark laboratory, he was lurking…stealing glances, observances, taking notes on his Saiyajin guest under the pretense of ignorance. But Vejiita was not that easily fooled. He could feel the doctor's eyes studying him when he was looking elsewhere.

"Vejiita, it's only as a precaution. You're staying under my roof, so I feel a sort of responsibility to you," he replied, smiling. "Consider yourself part of the family," the older man chuckled. Vejiita scoffed.

"I am responsible for myself. You need not worry over me. Saiyajins do not get ill and any injuries I suffer are mine alone to suffer. I do not need or care for any assistance from humans," he spat.

"Oh pish tosh, Vejiita. It's only a couple of tests. I won't be sucking your soul out of your veins or anything!" exclaimed the frustrated doctor.

Growling low as he chewed on a piece of walnut, Vejiita mulled the situation over in his head. If he let the doctor obtain his information, he might be able to find some sort of weakness in his physiology. Vejiita eyed the man warily. The doctor's intelligence was vast, yet his aloofness set off alarms in the Prince's head. Furthermore, the man's insistence was bothersome. If a flaw, however minor, was found, Dr. Briefs seemed more likely to repair it than exploit it, provided his own observations of the man were accurate. So it came to that, then. Did he trust himself? Of course he did. "Very well, human. I will endure no longer than the 5 minutes you claim these "tests" will take if it will shut you up. After that you are on your own."

"Great! Now, if you would follow me this way," stated Dr. Briefs as he turned back towards the hall to his lab, motioning for Vejiita to follow. "Oh, and there's no food allowed in the laboratory, sorry."

Loath to make comment on the greater environmental hazards of the doctor's weed-stick than his food for fear of having to listen to him even longer, Vejiita shrugged and swallowed the remaining cookies whole. Only 4 minutes and 47 seconds to go…

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After the bewildering scene with Vejiita in the kitchen, Bulma decided she'd had enough of His Royal Highness for the remainder of the day and retreated to her room. There was a sleazy romance novel waiting for her under her pillow and nobody was going to keep her from finding out the past of the secretive Paolo Ricardo. She had her own theories regarding the true background of the enigmatic man, but if she knew her Anne McCarthy (and she did), then she would be in for a new twist to the story before she was done reading.

Ever since she was a teenager, Bulma loved to stop by the aisle with the discount books in the grocery store, rummaging around for the latest sordid tale to which she could fantasize. Now, at the ripe ol' biddy age of 29, she had quite the collection. She never had been a prude and never would be, but the forced celibacy due to Yamcha's death was weighing heavily on her libido. Frankly, Bulma had to get her kicks where she could.

"Yamcha…" she sighed. Had it really only been 2 months (give or take) since he died? Bulma didn't think she'd be missing him this badly after only 2 measly months…60 little days… "Oh get off it, Bulma, it's not like he isn't coming back," she berated herself. If she could live for 2 months without him already, she could live the 2 and-a-half more it would be before he could be wished back to life. It wasn't as if she didn't have anything better to do than mope over her boyfriend. There was Capsule Corp. to think about. And chocolate. And Paolo Ricardo… Staring off into space daydreaming about a chocolate-covered Paolo, Bulma failed to hear the constant buzzing of her intercom, subsequently being scared shitless by a sudden knocking at her door.

"What?!" she yelled to the intruder of her fantasy.

"Bulma, come down to the lab!" came her father's muffled shout through the soundproofed panel.

It wasn't often that her father had to prod Bulma into coming to his laboratory. She loved tinkering with his inventions and creating her own as much as the next super-genius. Excited about the possibility of a new discovery in the making, she carefully bookmarked her novel and hastily stuffed it back under her pillow, grabbed her labcoat off the deskchair, and hurried out to meet her parent.

"What did I miss, daddy? Was there a breakthrough in the Nano type-A experiment? Is the fission generator ready for the first round of testing?" Bulma queried with an excited flush to her cheeks.

"No, dear, please just come with me! I need you to see something!" the aged doctor exclaimed, full of excitement himself.

Walking along the twisting, turning corridors of Capsule Corp., the President and his Heiress finally made it down to the austere confines of the elder's laboratory. Bulma was looking around, expecting the day staff to be busy bustling about carrying charts and readouts, but surprisingly there was no one there. Raising a fine eyebrow in confusion, she looked over to her father and, not for the first time, wondered if his genius was bordering on insanity. "Nothing's here, dad. What exactly did you want to show me?"

"This way," motioned Dr. Briefs to his desk against the far wall with a sly smile. "You'll see."

Shrugging at her father's odd demeanor, Bulma followed him and gazed upon the readings he pointed out to her on his computer screen. As she scanned the numerous volumes of data provided her, she began to gape slightly. "Daddy…what is this?"

"What does it look like, honey?" spoke the elder Briefs gently.

"It…it looks like genetic coding…but it doesn't seem natural for some reason. Did you synthesize this? What is it from? There's so much of it, it must be from a complex organism, but…" she trailed off, utterly perplexed.

"This, my dear, is from none other than your Saiyajin houseguest. I would have asked him about it, but as soon as I was done obtaining the sample, he trudged off, complaining that he had better things to do than be a guinea pig." Her father watched her for a minute, as if to gauge her reaction. To say the least, she was a bit floored. Vejiita? How was it possible? He seemed pretty normal to her, besides the arrogance and the mood swings. Oh, and the whole being-an-alien thing. But Goku was a Saiyajin as well, and, from the samples they weaseled away from the hospital when the poor guy was nearly crushed to death by Vejiita the first time he came to Earth, he was perfectly normal. What gives?

"Do you have any idea where he went? I want to see if he knows anything about this…" she trailed off.

"If I had to guess, pumpkin, I'd say he was going back to the kitchen for seconds, followed by a round of socialization with his bedroom window."

Suppressing a giggle, Bulma decided to check the kitchen first, just in case…and besides…those chocolate chip cookies were smelling better and better.

*******

As she moved quickly through the many corridors that made up Capsule Corp. Bulma's mind was not entirely on the task of looking where she was going. In the middle of mentally hypothesizing the resident Saiyajin's own unique genome, she found herself shoved roughly into the nearest wall by the man himself.

"Bastard! Why don't you watch where you're going?!" she nearly screamed at the haughty alien.

"Hmph. You are the one that seems to have navigation problems, wench. Do try to stay out of my way in the future, or you may receive even greater punishment," he retorted as he continued on his way, presumably to his guestroom to eat in peace and quiet…if his armful of cookies meant anything.

Turning on her heel, her agitation with the man forgotten, Bulma quickly caught up to him and caught his shoulder. "Wait! Vejiita! Can I talk to you?" She felt an almost imperceptible twitch of the alien's arm under her grip before he stopped in his tracks and turned to glare at her.

"I am tired of all these interruptions," Vejiita muttered. "Get on with it, bitch, before I blast you into oblivion."

Bulma took a few calm, cleansing breaths. `I can't let his attitude problem get to me. If I want to get what I want from him, I'm going to have to be nice. That's it, Bulma. Be nice,' she thought to herself before being dragged back to reality by the prince's low growl. She looked up to see him no longer glaring at her, but at her offending appendage. Not willing to make the situation even worse, she hastily removed her hand from his shoulder and tucked it with the other behind her back.

"I just came from talking with my father, Vejiita, and he showed me some rather remarkable findings in your blood sample. I just wanted to see if I could discuss them with you."

"Not again… I am tired of this human technological drivel. I told your parent he could have 5 minutes of my time, and no longer. The time is up," stated the irate alien. "I am DONE!"

Putting on her best puppy-dog face and sidling up a bit closer to the man, Bulma went out on a limb and tried to play to the prince's male-ness. After all, it always worked on Yamcha. "Please, Vejiita-sama? It would only take a few minutes." She moved a hand from behind her back and coyly snatched one of the prince's precious cookies, nibbling it slowly as she watched him. `I have got to get this recipe from mom…' she thought. They really were excellent.

Vejiita was agape. She suppressed a laugh at the sight. The man looked like a carp standing there. A carp with a bad wig. Maybe it was her forwardness? Nah, it was probably the minor show of respect. Geez, did he always have to be mister high-and-mighty? She wasn't sure what to expect from the surprised and rather confused alien next, but it definitely wasn't what she got. After the startled look vanished, it was replaced by what she could only deem as…predatory. An amused twinkle lit up his eyes and he stepped in her direction, throwing her brain back into rational thought, and her inherent nervousness around him to the forefront. Bulma attempted a step back from the approaching prince, but he caught her hand with his, having dropped his cookie stash to the carpet, and pulled her so only inches - and the delectable chocolate chip creation she was holding - separated the pair.

"Now, now. You are friends with Kakarotto. You should know better than to take food away from a Saiyajin," he purred. Now it was Bulma's turn to impersonate a fish. Vejiita's gaze never left her own as he brought the stolen dessert in her hand to his mouth and took a large bite, barely missing her fingers.

If she wasn't nervous before, she was now. Bulma knew that the prince could be playful at times, as their few verbal sparring matches could attest to, but the tension she was feeling as he held her gaze was far beyond that. He had always been aloof, not at all friendly and barely tolerable, but today he was being downright weird. This was the second time he had initiated physical contact with her in so many hours, only this time…she wasn't sure if he would stop. `Stupid cheeseball romance novels,' she thought to herself. He was probably just messing with her head, right? `He's a genius tactician and a psycho alien to boot. This is all a game to him, it has to be.' But as he continued to lose her in his gaze, she was becoming more doubtful of his intentions.

"Uh…Vejiita, you dropped your cookies," Bulma stammered, trying to break the quiet that seemed to have come over them as they stood in the hall.

"Yes, I did," was all he responded back with after swallowing the sweet morsel. He was reveling in her discomfiture, she could tell. His smirk betrayed his eyes. Well, if that's how he wanted to play, she could, too. With a wry grin of her own and a strengthened resolve, Bulma tossed the little remains of her mother's dessert into her mouth and chewed condescendingly.

"Don't screw with me, oh Prince. I'm the master of mind-games," she stated haughtily. That should show him. The stupid, cocky monkey couldn't fool her, no sir. But instead of being abashed at getting caught, her statement seemed to fuel the fire in his eyes. Uh, oh. That damnable smirk of his only grew wider, as did her eyes, as he licked a speck of chocolate from her fingertip. `Oh HELL, no!' she thought as she tried to jerk her hand away.

He released her hand with a snort and bent down to retrieve his stash, apparently uncaring of germs on the floor. He was Saiyajin. Food was food, she supposed. Standing back up, Vejiita looked down his nose at her regally and replied quietly, "If you are the master, then I am a god. If you wish to speak to me further, grow a backbone. I will be in my room. Do NOT disturb me!"

With that, he was gone, leaving a bewildered - and fuming - Bulma in his wake.

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