Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yumenimo ❯ Googles and Goddesses ( Chapter 4 )

Standard Disclaimers:

I do not own Dragonball Z or any of its related merchandising rights. (I wish O.O) They belong to Akira Toriyama and all other associated parties. Also, I am not associated with George Lucas and the great sci-fi saga that is Star Wars and therefore I have no claim to his creation. I don't own the Iomega company that makes Zip drives, and they only have Zip100/250 or Jazz. And by no means am I an expert of Greek/Roman mythology. (You'll see. In fact, I got another couple story ideas from it:)

However, this story is my intellectual property and completely my fault for ever going to see Episode2 in the theater with my special someone. It's been too long since I saw it the 1st weekend it was out, but that shows just how many other projects this was buried under. The ZipGoogle is my parody of the Zip100. *heh* Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first published DBZ fic -- but mostly my first V/B. *sigh* I think I'm gonna regret ever starting this -_-

Warnings:

Though there are Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones content references, I've decided not to give anything away, really(there were more ideas originally, but I can't remember them all): So if you haven't seen the movie yet you should go see it because you won't understand what might happen in later chapters. *heh heh heh* Seriously, it's a great movie!

Okay, now as for my fic . . . there's drama, angst, romance (to come), OOCness(until I grow and learn decent IC V/B), unnecessarily bad language and lots of it, my stupid attempts at humor, hints of sex (It's coming, I swear;) and . . . uh, feminine "issues." So beware! This story is now rated R. *evil li'l smirk* If I get enough of a response/inspiration I may yet add something else worth warning you about. ;)

Stupid Vegeta. I mean . . . I know he was just lying to me-- I think. Sometimes I really do wonder if he has the power to dictate my mood within a day. I was actually happy . . . and then he had the gall to open his big mouth.

Bulma slammed the door behind her. What an asshole! What a fucking asshole!

You have to admit, that was a clever stunt of his./p>

So what if it was, I'll never tell him that.

Now that you're home alone . . . what shall you do?

I have absolutely no idea.

Why don't you go to the lab?

No way.

What are you, chicken?

No.

Then why isn't Bulma Briefs inventing?

I, uh . . .

You're too scared to go in there, aren't you?

Me? No way, I'm just . . .

Fresh out of ideas.

A temporary creative block. I just need something . . . new.

Well, why don't you start with something old and grow from there.

I guess I'll just go hideout in my office, then.

"Will nothing about this day go right?!"

Despite the little "incident" after her parents left, Bulma decided she should try and get some work done on her computer. Of course the damnable machine decided to deny the existence of her ZipGoogle Drive. And her every attempt to restore the driver left her with the same result-- nothing.

All my files inaccessible. It fucking figures. Bulma leaned forward onto her desk and massaged her temples. "This is just not my day."

So now what are you going to do?

Bury my computer in the backyard? Or let Vegeta use it for target practice . . .

Where is the hulk, anyway?

Don't know, don't care. Probably bashing the GR to Hell.

What's with the potty mouth? You going to quit the family biz and become a sailor?

Shove it.

The day still wasn't getting better. Bulma sighed. What would I give to be a little kid again? Life was so simple then . . . when I was home alone--

Hel-lo! You're not alone.

Like I care, that tailless chimp is in the GR all the time anyway. My point was that I could do whatever I wanted.

Such as?

Such as . . . I could eat a banana split for breakfast if I wanted-- that's it!

You want a banana split for breakfast tomorrow?

When I was younger and in bed sick, I used to watch Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones. It always made me feel better.

And you think that's what will save the day?

Why not? And maybe I'll throw in a banana split too-- just in case.

But there are no bananas downstairs. No one eats them in this house.

Then I'll go to the store. This could be the plan that will save the day!

As Bulma prepared to jump into her hover modified classic Mustang convertible, the GR caught her attention. I feel bad for the way I acted earlier. I may as well ask him if he wants anything. She jogged up to the GR and punched the vidcom button-- a light would flash inside to let him know she wanted to talk.

The din in the GR subsided. "What?" His face was covered in sweat and obvious indignation at having his vigorous training interrupted.

Bulma sighed. He sure tries hard. "I'm going food shopping. Need anything special?"

"Something edible." The picture went black.

Bulma couldn't help it. She chuckled. Princes.'

Vegeta watched through the window as Bulma smiled and laughed to herself before walking away. What changed her mood? One minute she's brooding, then vivacious, pissed off, and then . . . beaming and chortling? If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she was a princess-- what am I saying? She knows nothing about being royalty! The closest she comes is by being a selfish snob-- unlike myself who is jeopardizing my life to save this puny planet from some theoretical androids. Vegeta exhaled. I need more conditioning.

The Present

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Just the thought of the sundae and the movie made me smile. But now . . . Her eyes strayed to the remote. Do I even want to watch anything now? I don't even think I should bother.

Suddenly, the door burst open and booted footsteps echoed on the tiled floor.

Bulma grimaced. Great, that's all I need-- some baka Saiyan ordering me to cook this or clean that. She was so busy griping about a Saiyan sense of thoughtfulness that she almost didn't notice the plop of a Saiyan form into the overstuffed recliner next to the couch. But when the footrest went up with a click, she snapped out of her thoughts. "What are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be overtraining yourself, breaking my father's machinery, and blowing yourself to bits, yet again?"

She uses that against me every opportunity she gets. He remembered. He had indeed pushed the innovation far past its early limitations. I never asked her-- why? Should I have? No, it wasn't any of my concern-- despite the fact that it was my life she salvaged from the GR wreckage. Foolish Onna, she should have left me there-- only she could be that asinine. No one else would have done it. And that thought was what disturbed him the most. It was still too soon after Namek-- the blood against him was still sinister and vengeful. Only she . . . That day, she still wore that over volumized hairdo that he loathed. So large . . . so freakish, so . . . riveting. And aliens think our hair is weird. Even genetics wanted us to be distinguished. But when he woke up, her hair had been altered once more. I hadn't expected anything-- anyone. But when I saw her . . . I almost didn't recognize her.

The Day Vegeta Awoke

First he had only known the darkness. And then . . . warmth. He didn't know where he was. In between the realm between everlasting sleep and consciousness, he had forgotten what happened.

When his eyes opened lazily, he was met with the sea-- rippling waves, endless blue, splayed before him. Am I floating? But the warmth . . . That sensation faded as his mind awoke. Then . . . where am I? He stared at the supposed waves. They appeared to be frozen. The sea shifted and the swell fell towards him. Will I drown? And the diminished tsunami revealed its treasure. The onna?

Her eyes were closed and her hair tousled. She's asleep? Careful not to move, his eyes surveyed his surroundings. There was little light but he could now tell he was in his room and his bed. And she was sitting in a chair next to his bed, asleep-- her head nestled within her arms atop his stomach. That explains the warmth. A movement in her sleep had caused her hair to fall away from her. Her hair . . . The curl had lessened but the length was still there. The presumed sea was nothing more than waves of her hair all along.

And from the frothing waves of the sea burst forth the goddess Aphrodite.

From some television program-- something Bulma made him watch of course-- he had learned of Earth myths, the gods, the goddess, and even Aphrodite. Otherwise known as Venus, the goddess of love and beauty. At this moment he cared not for the fantasy . . . for some reality was warming his stomach-- in both senses of the words.

She stirred and his abdominal muscles tensed. She stretched her arms out above her, reached across his invisible form, and slowly sat up. As she rotated her neck, her hair fell forward to cover her face and then back again-- framing her face. Then again, maybe I'm dreaming after all.

She was glowing. Except . . . Her lips refused to smile.

She slowly opened her eyes and settled on his stomach before her. I was . . . asleep? And I was sleeping on him!? But he's still asleep-- he has been for days. He wouldn't choose just this moment to wake up, would he? She looked at the rise and fall of his chest for any changes-- as she had watched for any abnormality since the accident. His breathing pattern had changed. It wasn't the deep breath of sleep. It was as if he had stopped breathing all together-- she swallowed. Oh shit. Her eyes jumped to his face . . . and grew to the size of saucers.

She's looking at me as if she's sad. Was she . . . worried about me? When her eyes jerked his way, he swore his heart stopped. Her eyes were wide in surprise. Did I startle her?

Bulma knew she should say something, but she couldn't find the right words. "V-Vegeta?"

When she whispered his name, he hadn't heard her-- exactly. He knew she spoke and whatever word it was sounded like music, but he couldn't stop staring into her blue eyes. Don't be blue . . .

"Vegeta, I . . . " I don't know what to say. Should I tell him how I had no words to even scream his name and ask him if he was alright?

Why is she staring at me like that? I must be grossly disfigured or something.

"Vegeta, you're . . . awake. I--- how are you feeling?" After a mental smack to the forehead, she swore, Dammit, what a great thing to say. Why don't you tell him that you were worried about him or something more.

He smirked at her. "Like I was blown apart-- how else would I feel?"

She smiled back at him. "At least you got back your sense of humor."

"How long was I out?"

"Just a few days. Anyone else would've been in a coma for weeks or even worse dea--" Bulma closed her eyes. Anyone else would've died . . . except you. I'm just grateful that you're you.

Something was bothering the woman-- he could tell by the way she closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She thought I would die? "Me, the Prince of all Saiyans die so easily? No way in Hell. What do you take me for, Onna, a weakling human?"

Her eyes opened and she managed a weak smile for him. "At least you'll get stronger after this, right?" And then there would be little to no chance of you ever having to be like this again-- so vulnerable and helpless-- with me waiting by your side again-- what am I saying? I'm not a nurse, but . . . did I only sit here with him because I felt obligated to him? It's not like he's done anything for me-- but that doesn't mean I wanted him to die alone like that.

He wanted to tell her, yes, he'd be so strong that nothing would ever hurt him again-- but he couldn't. He knew that a tough fight was coming with the androids. He could feel it.

"Vegeta, I wanted to tell you that--"

"Bulma,Dear! Yamcha's here for you! Are you ready to go on your date?"

It was her mother calling for her. Vegeta now took notice of her garb-- a long royal blue fitted dress with long sleeves, fabric that tempted to fall off her slender shoulders, and a plunging neckline. If her vestments were anymore elegant, then maybe she would almost look like a princess.

Inside of her, a battle raged. Dammit, why now? Not now! I wanted to tell him--

Tell him what? That you'd rather be here with him than going to some stupid party with Yamcha? That you missed him? That you cared whether or not he lived or died in that explosion?

So what if I do, what's wrong with that? I should tell him.

Then go ahead, blow your planned evening with your boyfriend for a tailless, murdering monkey.

Bulma turned to leave-- defeated. "I had better go. You should try and get some more rest before getting up again, Vegeta."

He, meanwhile, had no words at all. The further away from him she walked, the larger the emptiness within him grew. An impulse inside him told him to reach up, grab her, and not let her go. But it would be wrong. Always into the arms of that damn weakling human. On some level, he pitied her blind devotion. And on another he whimsically recalled what it was like. He was a prince once and all Saiyans heeded his word without rebuttal. She would never do that. When it came to him she would always argue the issue. Whenever he did something she deemed wrong, she would tell him. But this time . . . no berating. That was what he didn't understand.

"And Vegeta?"

"Hn?"

She slowly turned around and met his eyes with her own. "Don't ever worry me like that again." And then she was gone.

The Present

She had worried after all. But she still left. What had changed in her since then? Where did Bulma go? "Hn. Shouldn't you be working?"

Touch'. Bulma crossed her arms. "That's none of your business."

"As is my training none of yours."

"Hn." Bulma stared at the eternal blue on the screen before her and suddenly realized that she liked blue.

"Dammit, Onna, what is this crap? The blue- freak channel? Put on something else."

Subconsciously, the fingers of her left hand knitted into a tightly woven fist. I am not in the mood for this . . . "Hn. If you must know I was going to watch a movie."

"Fine. Whatever. Just hurry up and put something on before Kakkarot gets any dumber."

Oooh, you're lucky I'm letting that one slide as well, monkey. She snapped up the remote, "Fine," and pressed play.

To be continued.

Okay, I lied. I know I said only one more big flashback, but . . . I just couldn't resist throwing in the other one. ^_^ Yeah, I guess it's pretty stupid. Up until now, this story was all Bulma (I don't know whether that's a good or a bad thing), so I guess the point of it was to show more of Vegeta-- or at least attempt it. All I meant it to be was a paragraph or two, but it kept growing. Hell, I should just cut it out and make it a mini- or something. (Though then I'd be tempted to make a whole other series with it) But I think it's kind of needed where it is. *shrugs* But what do I know.

After adding the new flashback, this chapter was way too long. So . . . I cut the start of the show (the few comments) and will put them at the beginning of the next chapter. It makes more sense that way anyway. Plus, it will give me more length for what I have planned. (but not written yet - _-) In the end, I guess it will work out alright after all.

For the next chapter: The movie begins and both Bulma and Vegeta have a few things to say during the movie. (For instance: the opening scene, sorta, and Jar Jar Bink's entrance. *lol* So . . . if you've got any ideas what V/B should bitch about/mention/make fun of, don't hesitate to drop a "hint" in a review or email;) Plus . . . Bulma's urge for banana splits returns! Hooray! But just what's going to happen to ruin it this time . . . ?

With all the changes, I hope that this chapter wasn't too bad. Thanks to all you reviewers for inspiring me to continue! ^_^ Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to:
duonotsuin@yahoo.com