Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Saiyan Graduate ❯ The Saiyan Graduate ( Chapter 2 )

Warning: Lots of angst, suggestions of rape, and a little bit of unintentional domestic violence

The Saiyan Graduate: Chapter 2

Bulma knocked softly on the door to Vegeta's room, attempting to quell the rising nervousness within her. What if he rejected her? What if she went in there, offering herself to him, and he turned away from her? What if he didn't want her? Or worse, what if he already had someone, secretly, and didn't even need her …

Bulma shook her head. Not Vegeta! Where and when would Vegeta meet a girl, anyway? It's not like he ever went out or anything.

So, wrapping her courage around her, Bulma knocked again on his door, louder.

"Vegeta?" she called out softly. "Are you asleep?"

Silence was the only answer she received.

Biting her lip and hoping that Vegeta wouldn't be too mad at her, she slowly turned the doorknob, silently opening his door.

She just wanted to catch a glimpse of him in sleep. Honest! She'd just stand beside his bed, staring down at his peacefully dreaming face, maybe stroke his hair a few times, plant a kiss on his temple, and then leave.

With plans to return tomorrow night, of course. At an earlier time, so she could catch him awake.

Bulma couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when she had fallen in love with the Saiyan, but she knew the exact moment when the realization of her feelings for him had hit her.

It had been shortly before her breakup with Yamcha, just over a month ago. There hadn't been any yelling or screaming, as there had been a lot lately when she was with Yamcha. He yelled at her about Vegeta-because he was jealous. And she yelled back. They fought about everything, even the smallest, most miniscule things that meant absolutely nothing to either of them. Their relationship had turned so sour that whenever he called or came over, she felt as though she couldn't breathe, and she desperately needed some air.

The only thing keeping them together were the feelings they had once had for each other, and the longevity of their relationship. He was her first and only boyfriend, the only man she had ever been with. How could she completely discount that, even if she no longer loved him?

That was when it hit her.

She had just called Yamcha and told him to come over, because they needed to talk.

She was going to break up with him, once and for all.

And as she sat there, going over the words she would say to him in her head, she realized that she no longer loved him.

She loved Vegeta.

It wasn't that her love for Vegeta had replaced what she had felt for Yamcha, not that at all. She had stopped loving Yamcha long ago, probably even before he died fighting against the Saiyans. But the love she'd had for him in her youth had made her feel obligated to continue their farce of a relationship, even though her feelings for him had died long ago.

So as of late their relationship had been decaying around them, even as they struggled to hold on to each other. But they both knew that the end was close, looming over their heads.

So when Vegeta moved in, her heart had been free, unburdened by love for Yamcha. And although the prince was incredibly antisocial, and the closest to a smile she could get out of him was an occasional smirk, there was something about him that drew her to him, that lured her closer and made her ignore all the bright, yellow signs that shouted "DANGER!" She ignored all the warnings, and began her attempt to learn all she could about him.

At first he was very reticent, cursing and acting rude towards her, as though he were trying to push her away. But he didn't know about Bulma Briefs, or her courage and determination. When she wanted something, she went after it, no matter what, and didn't stop until she got it.

Actually, that sounded a lot like him, too, now that she thought of it.

And soon she began to think of more things they had in common, similarities in their personalities, in their interests, anything that she could use to get closer to him. It became an obsession for her. She found herself waiting in the living room until well after midnight just to be there when he came in from an intense session of late-night training. Even though he was tired, and all he wanted was to get a late-night snack and go to bed, she'd talk to him.

At first, he just grunted at her, and tried to push her away. But she persisted, and eventually got to the monosyllabic response stage, then the short phrase stage, and finally they managed to actually have their first ever actual conversation.

It wasn't a very long conversation, but it was a conversation nonetheless. She had learned so much about him that night, from that one conversation.

It was so late that she had nearly fallen asleep, curled up on the couch in the living room, waiting for Vegeta to come in. It had become a nightly ritual of theirs, he'd come in at exactly midnight and she'd start talking to him, and his response would depend on his mood. She'd follow him into the kitchen, where he'd grab a midnight snack that would have fed whole countries of people for days. She'd continue talking to him as he ate, and when he finished he would stop acknowledging her presence, and simply leave, going upstairs and closing his door-softly, so as not to wake her parents.

But there was something different in the air tonight, she thought as the sound of footsteps entering through the sliding door on the far side of the living room woke her from her slumber.

She yawned and stretched her limbs, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she looked up and saw him standing there, in only those cute, tight spandex shorts that showed off his lean body to perfection, his muscular body leaking sweat, despite the soaked towel that lay across his shoulders.

She saw him glance at her, wondering why she hadn't jumped up and started yapping at him yet. He had come to expect it from her, and since it was no skin off his back to tune her out as he went about his nightly routine, he had let her chatter to her heart's content. He had even found himself listening sometimes, and finding her words interesting.

Bulma just smiled up at him, sleepily, and suddenly an odd expression flew across his face, as though he had been hit in the head with a brick or something.

She cocked her head to the side as she pulled her feet out from under herself and stood up on shaky legs.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He looked as though he were about to vomit right there, staring at her with unseeing eyes.

He shook his head and after a moment his usual fierce expression set into place, and he glared at her. "What's wrong is that you keep bugging me," he growled, and began walking towards the kitchen.

Bulma fell into step beside him, a warmth filling her heart. That set-down wasn't nearly as harsh as the ones he usually gave her!

"How did your training go today?" she asked as they entered the kitchen.

Opening the refrigerator and sticking his head in, the only response he gave her was a single, noncommittal grunt, which Bulma took to mean as: "The usual."

"Soooo …" Bulma sat in her chair at the table, patiently waiting for Vegeta to fix himself a snack and sit across from her, as usual. When he sat down with a sandwich on his plate piled higher than any of Dagwood's, ignoring her, she just smiled and began to talk about her day.

"…so then Yamcha and I went to the park, and-"

Yep, that did it. As her boyfriend's name passed casually through her lips, Vegeta's head shot up, a burning fury in his eyes.

Exultation roared through her veins as Bulma felt like leaping up and gloating, telling the whole world that Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans, had a crush on her! After all, he wouldn't look so utterly jealous whenever she mentioned Yamcha if he didn't at least have some feelings for her.

But even as she felt that, her heart began to sink. Looking into his eyes, into the rage that lay there just behind the surface, she suddenly felt like the lowest piece of scum. Was that what this was all about? The reason she sought him out daily, tried to talk to him every chance she had? Was it all some stupid power game where she tried to toy with his heart? Because even though she was still with Yamcha, she wanted Vegeta to love her!

Bulma bit her lip and looked into his eyes, apology written all across her face.

"I … I'm sorry, Vegeta," she said, before glancing away. That black gaze of his was too much even for her to hold. "I … I'm such a bitch!" She placed her head in her hands, feeling the tears of self-loathing start to well up within her.

How could she be so horrible as to try and manipulate his feelings towards her, when she could never return them?

The next thing she knew, she felt strong arms hauling her up to her feet, and her face flew up to meet his gaze. He was even more furious than before.

"Never apologize," he spat.

Bulma blinked. "Wh-what?" she asked. Here she was, telling him that she was sorry for trying to manipulate him and hurt his feelings, and he was telling her that she shouldn't apologize? Even after everything she'd done to him?

"Only the weak apologize." His black gaze, those powerful, hypnotic onyx eyes of his, burned into her. "You, Woman, are anything but weak. Vulgar, yes. Physically powerless, yes. But your will, Woman, is stronger than that of anyone else I've ever known." He smirked. "Myself excluded."

She stared up at him with wide eyes, wondering to herself if she had fallen in love with him. Because if she hadn't already, she would soon. Especially if he kept talking sweet to her like that!

"Who told you that?" she asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

"Told me what?" Yes, he was definitely in the mood for conversation. Tonight must be her lucky night!

"Told you that only the weak apologize. Because it's not true at all," Bulma insisted. "Everyone makes mistakes. The cowards are the ones that don't own up to them. It takes a lot of courage to admit, to yourself and to others, that you were wrong." She met his confused eyes with a smile in hers. "And you, Prince Vegeta," she added softly, "Are anything but a coward."

He seemed taken aback by the complement, as well as confused by the implications of her words. He scowled and then turned away from her and began pacing the room, his arms folded across his bare chest.

"On Freeza's ship," he began, not looking at her and yet telling her more than she had ever hoped to know about his past, "those who apologized were killed. Those who made mistakes were killed, too." He finally looked up at her. "The only way to survive was to be sure to make absolutely no mistakes. Otherwise your life was worth nothing." The absolute hatred in his voice when he talked about Freeza chilled her to the bone. Had it really been that bad for him?

Her heart went out to him, to the life and youth he had lost to that evil madman. To his people, killed by the same sociopath that had enslaved him. To the boy who had lost his future, whose entire life had been sculpted by the whims of one maniacal miscreant, set out to destroy him.

And Freeza had destroyed him, in the worst way. He had destroyed his hopes and his dreams. He had destroyed his future.

When Vegeta came to earth the first time, the only thing he wanted was immortality. And the reason he wanted that was so he could defeat Freeza. After that, she didn't think he had any plans. But Freeza had destroyed everything for him, leaving him with only one thing to grasp at, only one thing to reach for.

Revenge.

If not for Freeza, Vegeta would be a whole different person. A person still proud and arrogant, but capable of softer emotions. Emotions such as love.

Bulma shivered and turned her thoughts to something else. What could she say after what he had told her, that wouldn't make herself sound like a total idiot, and make him leave the room without a backwards glance, thus ending their first ever real conversation?

"It's not like that here on earth," she said softly, looking down at her hands as they played with the hem of her shirt. She didn't think she could look at him right now, without him knowing exactly what she felt, exactly how she felt about him. "Here you can make mistakes, and it's ok. It won't cost you your life."

"In a battle it will. A single mistake, a simple misjudging of one's opponent, or using the wrong attack, can cost a warrior not only the battle, but his life, as well. If I go soft, start letting myself screw up like that Yam-cock bastard you're so fond of, then I'll die before the androids ever have a chance to get here," he growled.

She looked up again, her cheeks stained with tears. "Don't think like that, Vegeta," she begged. "Going soft isn't as bad as you think! Caring for others isn't a weakness, it's a strength!" She let out a small sob before burying her face in her arms atop the table and weeping her heart out.

He only let her cry for a few moments before he stormed over to her, yanked her head up painfully by the roots of her blue hair, then leaned down to her level so that his face was almost pressed against hers, and his eyes were so close she could barely focus on them. But she could feel the heat they radiated. And the rage.

"Don't cry for me," he hissed. "Never shed a single fucking tear for me, Woman! I've done things in my lifetime that would make you retch. Do you think to blame it all on Freeza?" He shook his head at her, as though chastising a naughty child. "You think I didn't enjoy the purging? The killing?"

Bulma trembled, trying to pull herself from his grasp. But he only tightened his hold on her hair, making her whimper with pain.

He drew closer, his hot breath spilling over the side of her cheek and her neck as his lips drew closer to her ear.

"Don't you ever wonder," he whispered softly, seductively, his tongue slithering out of his mouth to gently caress the lobe of her ear, making her shudder and squeeze her thighs together, denying the wetness that suddenly pooled between them. "If I don't just pillage, but rape as well?"

To her eternal shame, his words didn't make her cringe from him in fear. They made her grow even hotter, wetter, her face flushing and her breasts swelling as her nipples hardened and her body prepared itself for him. The thought of having Vegeta on her, around her, inside her, made her squirm in her seat from desire. He ground his hard-on into the side of her hip, letting her know that he wanted her, too. That he could take her by force if he wanted to. She'd never thought of herself as one to have rape fantasies, but …

If Vegeta took her now, here, on the kitchen table, she knew it wouldn't be rape.

She wanted it just as much as he did.

But just as she was about to tell him so, he drew away from her.

And to her eternal shame and surprise, the monkey bastard was laughing at her!

She stared at him, mouth agape. She'd never heard him laugh before. The sound was so wonderful, rumbling and deep, but with the same hint of huskiness that made his voice so sexy. But Bulma was too humiliated now to fully appreciate the fact that he was actually laughing. And she was the one that had made him laugh.

Blushing hotly at her embarrassment, Bulma quickly turned away from him, hugging herself with her arms and pressing her thighs together, trying to quell the ache that had begun between them, and failing miserably.

How could she want such a monster?

"Silly girl," he smirked at her, still chuckling. "That's what `caring for others' gets you," he mocked her phrasing from earlier. "A need so deep that only one person can fulfill it." His face suddenly fell into a serious expression, one that she could only label as `calm insanity.' He walked slowly behind her, so that she could no longer see his face, and placed his hands on her shoulders, moving them towards her slender neck as he spoke.

"A need that beckons to you in the black of night, making you weak." His hands slid around her neck as she sat there motionless, allowing him to do this. He needed to get it all out. And she needed to prove that she trusted him, in spite of his cruel words. She was the only one who could heal his broken soul.

"A need that goes against everything you believe in, everything you've worked for your entire life." His head bent down until he was nuzzling the back of her ear, his words quieted to a whisper, even as his hands began to tighten around her neck.

"A need that reminds you of everything that's gone wrong in your life, of everything you've lost, and everything that you will never have the chance to experience." She could feel her throat constricting under his hands, now. Her heart sped up and her breaths were shallower, quicker. She hoped he would stop soon-there was only so much trust she could place in him.

"A need," his sharp teeth bit down on her ear, hard, drawing blood, "that makes you go insane with lust, wanting nothing more than to take, and take, and to give nothing back." He lapped up the tiny stream of blood that fell from the wound he had inflicted, his hands growing tighter still around her neck, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

"A need," he finished with a whisper, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair, "for the only person you can never have." His grip closed her windpipe completely, and even her gasps brought in no air. She began to panic, wondering if he planned to kill her right here, right now, just to prove a point. Wondering if he really cared for her at all, as she thought he had, or whether he would only shrug with annoyance when she died. But the sane, logical part of her mind remained, and cautioned her against making any sudden moves to try and escape-he could easily snap her neck without even trying. So she gently placed one of her hands on top of his, and began stroking the back of his hand. Letting him know the she trusted him not to kill her. That if his hands tightened any further, he would break the trust she had placed in him.

With a violent roar of rage, he pulled his hands free of her and stormed out of the room, leaving the bulk of his unfinished sandwich sitting on the table as Bulma fell from her chair to the floor, taking in deep, shaky breaths as her hands massaged her aching, bruised throat.

The only thought in her head-she refused to think about anything to do with Vegeta right now-was how she was going to explain the bruises around her neck to everyone the next day.

She confused everyone greatly when she insisted on wearing turtlenecks exclusively for the next week-in the middle of August.

Everyone except Vegeta, that is.

He knew there were bruises, he had to. And yet she hadn't gone crying to Goku about how he'd harmed her, she hadn't told anyone the truth. She had covered it up for him, saved him from acknowledging his mistake.

He avoided her for the entire week, until the bruises left by his hands had faded and she started wearing her usual revealing tank tops again.

He caught her alone one evening as she sat curled up in a large, overstuffed armchair in the living room, reading a trashy romance novel. She felt his presence before she even saw him, and lowered the book so that her eyes could peer at him from over the top.

He frowned at her, then walked over and plucked the book from her hands, tossing it onto the couch as he resumed his infamous pose, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at her.

The expression on his face was priceless, and made her wish she had a camera handy.

The Prince of all Saiyans was confused!

"Why did you do it?" he asked, jumping straight to the point.

Bulma blinked at him. Now it was her turn to be confused. "Do what?" she asked innocently.

He glared at her. "You could have told Kakkarot and all the other Z fucking senshi," he rasped. "They would have ganged up on me and killed me without mercy in a heartbeat for harming you, androids or no androids." His hand reached out to brush against the smooth, unmarred skin of her neck. She didn't even flinch as she continued to stare into his eyes. "Why didn't you? Why did you … lie for me?"

Bulma smiled at him and placed her hand over his, covering it and holding it against her throat. She could feel his fingers trembling against her skin, could see in his eyes that he remembered how perilously close he had come to strangling her, killing her. She knew that, for probably the first time in his life, he felt guilty about something. He realized that he had made a mistake and owed her an apology, but didn't know what to do about it.

So she took it upon herself to teach him.

"It has nothing to do with lying," she told him as her fingers began to stroke the back of his hand. His eyes closed and his body shuddered in ecstasy at her light touch. "It has to do with trust. I trust you."

"How?" she could barely understand his thick, husky whisper. "How can you trust me? I nearly … I almost … Kami, I-"

"Shh," Bulma whispered, her other hand reaching up to his arm and gently tugging. "It's ok. You almost did, but you didn't."

In response to her tugging, he dropped his hand from her neck and fell to his knees in front of her, burying his face in her lap, his breathing shaky and uneven, as though he were on the verge of tears. Bulma let him lie there, gently stroking his hair, until he had composed himself enough to speak to her again.

Lifting his head to look into her eyes, his hoarse voice asked again, "Why?"

"Because you made a mistake," she answered simply. "Like I told you that night, we all make them. It's unavoidable. True strength doesn't lie in someone who never makes mistakes. True strength lies in someone who can pick themselves up and dust themselves off, and continue on after having made them. And besides, you're my friend." She grinned at him. "And it's a friend's duty to help clean you up after you've made a mistake, no matter how bad it may be." She shrugged. "It's as simple as that."

He stared at her for long moment, unmoving, before shaking his head, a small smirk springing up on his face.

"Crazy woman," he murmured, "You never cease to amaze me with that foolish human logic of yours."

Bulma giggled, recognizing a complement when she heard one. "And you, Vegeta, owe me something."

His head shot up, and for a moment she regretted her words, because the light-hearted, open, relieved Vegeta of a minute before was gone, replaced by his defensive shell, which she liked to call `Bad-ass Vegeta.'

"I owe you nothing, woman," he hissed, pulling away from her and standing up again, in an attempt to use his height to intimidate her.

Bulma glared at him. "That's not what I meant, baka!" she told him, rising to her own feet and standing toe to toe, eye to eye, with the prince. "I meant that you owe me an apology!"

He drew back, horrified. "An-an apology?" He nearly choked on the words.

Serves him right, thinking he can get out of this! Bulma told herself. "That's right, an apology. It did hurt, you know! It hurt a lot." She rubbed her neck for emphasis. "It still kind of hurts, even though the bruises are gone. And besides, I covered for you! Don't you think the least you can do is give me two little words?"

He glared at her before harrumphing and turning away, his arms folded across his chest. She heard him mumble something under his breath that sounded like it might be the phrase she wanted to hear, "I'm sorry."

"What was that?" she asked, cupping a hand behind her ear. "I didn't hear you," she taunted in a sing-song voice.

He turned back to glare at her again. "I said," he took a moment to prepare himself, "I'm-"

"Vegeta!" Bulma and Vegeta both jumped at the sound of her mother's voice calling to him from the kitchen doorway. "I need you to help me get something down from the top shelf." The blonde ditz giggled. "I misplaced the step ladder and can't find it anywhere! Now, hurry, dear, I'm going to make your favorite, chopped liver and refried bean cakes!" She giggled again and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Vegeta looked at Bulma for only a moment before turning around and entering the kitchen, but there was something different in his gaze after her mother's interruption. Something that seemed … sad, almost vulnerable. Guarded, as though he had something to hide. She worried about what could have done that to him-and what he could possibly be hiding from her.

Damn her mother! She had the worst timing of anyone Bulma knew!

But, despite her mother's interference, after that incident things returned to almost normal between Bulma and Vegeta. It seemed as though he had taken the proffered olive branch and decided that friendship with her wouldn't be too bad. He began to open up to her more, just a little bit, but even that much she latched onto with all the vigor of a lobster hanging onto its prey for dear life. Conversations were now a normal thing between them, and they grew longer and more involved with each passing day. And in spite of his antisocial exterior, Bulma had the feeling that Vegeta actually liked their conversations, maybe even looked forward to them!

And so love blossomed in Bulma's heart, and she fell head over heels for the mysterious Saiyan. On the outside he appeared to be just another jackass bent on revenge, obsessed with his single-minded goal. But on the inside, even the Saiyan Prince possessed a multi-faceted personality, one that fascinated her and made her love him. Because even after having his childhood ripped away by the ruthless Freeza, his future still had so much potential. If only she could get him to see that, to give up on his need to prove himself better than Goku.

They had many a long, heated argument about the Saiyan boy she had known since childhood. Vegeta could do nothing but insult him, while Bulma did her best to defend her friend. And even though their opinions of him, and many other things, differed, their arguments, discussions, and conversations were the highlights of the day for both of them.

And as the doorbell rang and Bulma rose from her seat to answer it and tell Yamcha the truth about her feelings for him, she couldn't help but wonder if a little love hadn't blossomed in Vegeta's heart, too.

A/N: Gosh, that was angsty! In the next chapter, Bulma finally opens the door and sees just where her mother is standing … ^.~

Love, Tina