Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yumenimo ❯ F**king Flying Furball!! ( Chapter 5 )

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.

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 (so if you see a scene missing that you think V/B should mention/make fun of, tell me and I'll add it later:), but that shows just how many other projects this was buried under. 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 a few 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): -- just the opening scene, sorta, and Jar Jar Bink's entrance for starters. *lol* 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. ;)

As the signature introduction boomed through the home theater speakers, Bulma wasn't paying attention. I do not want to watch this now . . . and especially not with him.

Well, you are, her inner voice answered.

Oh no, not you again. You're the one that got me into this mess--

Just shut up and watch the movie.

Fine, but don't expect me to enjoy it!

Sure, whatever. Just watch the damn movie, already.

Bulma sighed. I wish someone were trying to kill me.

You do not mean that!

I know I don't, but . . . just once I wish someone cared whether I lived or died.

You're thinking about Namek again.

And so what if I am? It's my life and I have a right to bitch about it.

Oh brother.

Poor Ewan, what where you thinking? In Episode One, you had it figured out-- no beard. Well, not that facial hair is bad . . . She thinks of her dad and giggles mentally. They tickle! Yamcha, however, he wouldn't look good in a beard or mustache. Well, I guess they're okay on some people. Her eyes jump to Vegeta. Hm . . . with his facial structure . . . on him it wouldn't be half bad. Well, maybe not a mustache. But a beard? It sure would make him look more like royalty. I wonder . . .

Clownishly, Jar Jar Binks saunters across the screen. And Vegeta sits up with a jerk. "What the fuck is that walking pile of crap?!"

"Why, is he related to you?"

Vegeta sneered. "I just asked a question . . . and as the Prince of all Saiyans I deserve an answer!"

Bulma rolled her eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Onna!"

Bulma, meanwhile, was much more concerned about her lack of companionship. He was so enamored by her for all those years. She's so lucky to have someone so devoted to her.

You have Yamcha, her voice amended.

But I have-- do I really? It's been so long since those days and . . . I'm not a love- teenager any more.

Emphasis on the sick.

When he and I would be together in a room, there used to be something. But lately . . .

He's a stranger to you.

There was something between us then. Until one of Vegeta's Saibamen killed him. He was dead, and then we wished him back after all that time apart. What is the cliché?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

We seemed so happy to everyone-- the honeymoon-- but everyone knew it had to end sometime. When he was living here, it was different. We could see each other everyday and new what life had in store for us. Then one day he told me he wanted to move out and be on his own-- and stop living off me. It must have been his manly pride telling him that he didn't need me. I told him I was fine with it; I needed to concentrate more on work anyway. Why was I the only one who never realized that it was supposed to end? Now that I think about it, was he looking for an easy out right then?

He said, "I guess this is goodbye, Bulma," as he packed up what clothes, essentials, and nameless inessentials you bought him and loaded them into a taxi.

Hn. And then I just smiled and gushed, "What goodbye? You'll be calling me asking for a date on Saturday, right?" Shit. What have I done? He was looking for a way out. And I just trapped him. Am I really so pathetic that I'll just latch onto whatever thief steals my heart?

He was a thief, you know?

And Vegeta was a murderer. She sulked heavily. I sure do know how to pick my house guests.

When Bulma sighed at least the thousandth time-- she seemed to be doing that a lot during the movie-- Vegeta resisted his normal reaction-- leaving the building. What is wrong with her tonight? She just keeps sighing and brooding over and over again-- I don't think I can take it anymore. Usually she'd be cheering the "hero" and practically heckling the villain-- that's just how she is. But now . . . this silence is just too eerie. She's going to crack; I can almost feel the steam building within her. And I don't think I want to be around her when that geyser blows its top.

Wow, wouldn't that be sweet . . . spending a meal with someone for a change-- yup, definitely sweet. A virtual lightbulb flashed in her head. Yeah, I know I haven't even eaten dinner yet, but so what?

Bulma, just indulge yourself. Bulma stood and turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

She paused and crossed her arms. However, this time she was determined to not let her mood be spoiled. She faced him with a slight smile and casually leaned against the doorframe. "I'm going to make something. You want anything to eat?"

"It's not dinnertime." Since when has that ever mattered?

A saiyan . . . not hungry? Oh please, Veg, I've got you figured out. "Then how about a snack?"

"No."

It was fun bugging him. I'm such a tease . . . Placing her left hand on her hip and propping her right elbow against the doorjamb, she leaned into her open palm and flashed her most brilliant smile. "Come on, it's not like your appetite will be spoiled-- you're a Saiyan." Take the bait.

Is that a challenge, little onna? "If I tell you okay will you shut up so I can watch this damn movie?"

She would've been pissed if she hadn't realized something. "Vegeta . . . do you like this movie?"

He crossed his arms. "It's okay."

"Heh, I'll take that as a yes. Any requests for your snack?"

"No."

"Oh, come on, you can tell me." She pouted, "I'm no Saiyan gourmet, but I have experience with Earth food."

"Whatever, just go make it already."

"So it's my decision, then?"

"Whatever."

She smiled once again and pushed herself from her pose against the wall. "You won't regret this."

"Just don't poison me."

"I'll resist the urge your highness." She teased as she turned to open the kitchen door.

"After the slop I've eaten . . . even your cooking begins to taste good," he thought aloud under his breath.

Is my hearing improving? Bulma addressed him again over her shoulder. "Oh yeah, like what?"

Damn her, she made me watch this stupid movie and now she won't even let me watch it in peace. "Bugs."

Bulma's spine stiffened. "B- . . . bugs?"

"Big ones," he added.

She blanched. "And you ate them . . . raw?"

"No," Vegeta could tell she was getting freaked out by the subject of bugs-- saw the natural blush drain from her face. She didn't know he saw her sunbathing one--- accidentally of course-- when she jumped as a caterpillar crawled across her stomach. Of course, she pet it like a kitten afterwards . . . He let his eyes drift to hers and smirked, "Barbequed."

He just . . . joked? There may be hope for the Saiyan race yet. She chuckled as he turned his attention back to the movie. "Yeah, sure, Vegeta." She walked into the kitchen stuck her head around the corner once more adding, "Remind me to ask for the recipe someday . . . " She winked.

What was that wink for? She couldn't have been serious . . . could she have been testing me? Crazy Onna, she still cannot make up her mind.

Bulma set to work on her masterpiece. Humming as she laid out the ingredients-- a habit that annoyed her co- and amused her parents-- sped the process. First she removed the ice- from the freezer and brought out the bananas, ripe strawberries, and fudge.

Placing it all on the island counter-, she went on a hunt for two bowls-- one regular sized for her and one jumbo plastic bowl for him. Good thing I got three gallons of ice-, ten bananas, and a case of strawberries, she thought with a smile. Then she got a pot, turned on the burner, and put the fudge in to melt while she prepared the rest.

She cut the bananas in half longways-- not as easy as it sounds. Two halves for me . . . eighteen halves for you, she chimed as she dumped hers in the bowl and arranged his in a star shape. It's not like he'll notice, but so what! I'm having fun for a change! After she added a plateau of ice-, added a smaller banana star, and heaped on a mountain of ice-, she cut the strawberries in neat halves to place in a circle around each bowl.

Moments later Bulma was still having fun as the tower of ice- grew in each bowl and was drowned in hot fudge. She grabbed the last of the cut strawberries and was going to top the banana splits--

*Ding--! Ding Dong Ding Dong Ding!*

. . . Because I'm resisting the urge to wack you over the head with a frying pan. She groaned and thought aloud, "Who the heck is it now?" Her hands were covered in ice-, fudge, juice from the strawberries, and general sticky goodness.

*Knock--*

Whoever it was had moved their assault to the side entrance to the kitchen. Mother fucking-- she opened the door.

"Hey Bulma, are you ready for our date tonight?

"D-?" I never said anything about a date. I may have told him that I'd call him, but . . . not to come over. And I thought he understood that I was watching a movie alone tonight? Well, not alone-- But Vegeta doesn't count. He's just a guest.

"Yamcha, I think you misunderstood--" Her words were cut off as he thrust a bouquet of flowers into her sticky hands.

"I missed you."

"Um . . . " Well, his mood sure changed since earlier. She looked at the flowers in her hand and realized they should be put in water. Walking to the sink in the counter opposite the island and kitchen door, she said aloud, "What are the flowers for? Did something happ--"

"Did something happen? Nothing happened." He walked away from her and toward the kitchen table. He turned around as if changing his mind both in action and thought. "What's so wrong with me giving my favorite beautiful girl some beautiful flowers? There doesn't have to be a reason--"

Now that got her attention. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Favorite? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, well, you know, next to Puar--"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm second to a flying cat?"

"No, Bulma, I just meant that--"

Bulma threw the bouquet into the sink, set her hands on her hips, and turned around in a huff. "I'm second to a fucking flying furball!?"

"Of course not, Bulma, I just--"

"And what's with the flowers all of a sudden? Fact, you only bring me flowers when you've done something to feel guilty for." As she spoke, she took steps closer to him until she was standing between the island and the table staring him down. "Remember when you lost the watch I gave you? You brought me flowers. When you accidentally washed my favorite sweater with your clothes and shrank it till it was so small that not even Puar could wear it, again, you brought flowers. When you forgot my birthday . . . the next day you sent me flowers--"

"Bulma, I--"

"I'm sick of flowers, Yamcha. I'm sick of you forgetting me. What happened the other night? Why weren't you home when you said you'd be?"

"Because . . . Puar's dying, Bulma."

"What?"

"It's Puar . . . lately, she can't even fly. Remember how she used to train herself to keep transformations longer and longer? Well, now she's lucky if she can hold a form for a few minutes before it fades and she falls asleep."

Okay . . . car trouble I could believe. Maybe even a late meeting. But this!? "Um, Yamcha, Puar is not dying. Hell, Puar isn't even a girl."

"What are you talking about? Of course she's a girl."

"Yamcha, are you losing it? Puar is a boy and he is not dying. I saw him last weekend and he was just fine around me--"

"'Cause she's a girlfriend stealer! Whenever you're there, she immediately comes up to talk to you."

Despite the ludicrousness of the conversation, Bulma was staying remarkably calm. As she spoke, she turned away from him, gripped the marble top of the island, and leaned forward. "So you're calling him a lesbian shape shifting cat because he talks to me? Hell, you don't even know his sex, so for all you know . . . he's gay for you," she teased.

"That's just gross Bulma you know I only like girls--"

"Yeah, what you refer to as your fucking girl cat!" This is going way too far! I mean, of all the lame brained, dumbass excuses-- She turned to face him-- crossing her arms and dawning her best Vegeta- glare ever. "Well, since you care so goddamn much more about him than you do about me, why don't you just fucking leave?"

"You know what? You're right, Bulma, I do care more about her! At least she's grateful for everything that I do for her!"

"Because you actually do stuff for her and forget all about me!"

"Yeah, I forgot why I even liked you! Hell, I forget why I didn't just leave your dumbass in the desert when I had the chance! Ha, I wish I'd done it sooner, you've always held me back. But no more! I'm gonna do what I should have done a long time ago . . . " He headed for the door.

"What? Get a sex change so you can be the bitch while your fucking guy cat fucks you up the ass?"

At her words, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "We're through Bulma."

What? "Y-'re breaking up with me?"

"No shit, Bulma. Goddamn, for a genius you're really dense sometimes."

Her arms tightened around herself*#45- as if making a protective barrier from the words. Look at me, Yamcha. Tell me you didn't mean--

"Do you know that I used to awake in the middle of the night to hold you in my arms-- those were the moments I dreamt of us getting married, having kids, growing old together, and the sight of our grandchildren-- and you weren't there? You were huddled off on your own side of the bed looking away from me." It hurt . . .

"But that's just how I fall aslee--"

"You're possessive, Bulma, you know that? Hn, if there's one thing that you and the Prince have in common is that you both think only of yourselves. You're spoiled, Bulma. And I can't be with someone who doesn't know love when they see it." I can't turn and look at her. If I do . . . I'll take it back. I can't take back the truth.

At the words he had spoken, she dropped her hands to her sides and clenched them tightly. She couldn't tell if it was hurting or not. Looking at his hand, she wondered whether or not the knob would survive his hellish grip. He's so angry . . . I didn't mean what I said-- I was only joking, dammit!

"I don't know how many times I've told you that I wanted to marry you. And to this day, you won't answer me. I can't wait around forever to hear an answer that you will never speak. That's not fair to me, Bulma." Slowly, he released his grip on the door and looked over his shoulder and, sadly, into her eyes. "And it's not fair to you."

She wanted to tell him so many things. She wanted to tell him that she did care about him and that she did want to marry him and have a family-- "Yamcha, I--" But when he turned around and she saw the blatant hurt within his eyes, she realized that wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted to tell him she was sorry for wasting his life, but she wasn't prepared to give hers away so frivolously.

He held up his hand for her to stop. Don't waste your breath on me. "It's too little, too late, Bulma." He turned to the door once again. "I guess you should've made that wish afterall." The door closed behind him.

The second deafening click of the day.

Bulma just stood staring at the door. He-- he's gone. She knew the wish he spoke of. She had begun her search for the dragonballs for one wish: the perfect boyfriend. And instead, she gave up her idealized dream and gave a former thief a chance. Was I stupid to latch onto him like that? For one of the first times in her life, she had look behind the surface for something more. I never found what I wanted. But did I even know what I wanted then? Was he . . . it? Outside, she heard the wail of his car as he crept away. I was such a fool. She clenched her eyes shut and dropped her head. A fool . . .

He had heard everything; it was hard not to. As the drama played out in the kitchen, he had neglected the movie and no longer acknowledged its existence-- let alone if it was still playing. So it finally happened. They broke it off. Somehow . . . I always thought that she would be the one to end it with him. After all, when Freiza came to Earth, she did not cower as he did. And now that he's gone once again, will she crumble? He stood and mobilized his walk to the kitchen. If I could sit on a throne and dictate the proceedings of universe . . . never.

To be continued.

Uh . . . that had to be about the stupidest breakup in history! And I had the displeasure of getting all the credit for its creation. -_- So who was the "badguy" in the breakup? *shrugs* Your guess is as good as mine. And if Puar's not a guy . . . whoopsies! *lol* I've heard both possibilities, so even I don't know anymore. O.o

Oh . . . I almost forgot. Whomever can guess the tune of the Briefs' doorbell . . . gets a (hypothetical) gold star and (virtual) pat on the back from me! :)

And about that beard/mustache tangent I was on . . . for one, I think King Vegeta looked pretty damn good even with the beard!! :) And as for the mustache crack . . . well, you'd have to see at least the first episode of Dragonball Grand Tour (DBGT) to get it. ;) Let's just say, "Vegeta, what were you thinking?!" O.o

Trust me, chapter six is going to be way better than this piece of crap. However, it may take way longer to write as well. (I've only written the begging of the chapter and not much else-- I'm kind of stuck ~.~ But if I feel impatient, I may just upload the intro to chapter 6 as a teaser, and then maybe you guys could help me with ideas!:) The chapter after that (chapter 7 or so) is already started as well. But I need to get there first. -_-

On a special note to all the fanfiction.net reviewers, I hope you liked finally getting thanks for your honest reviews. I guess I was, playing favorites with the mediaminer.org reviewers . . . but no more!! There are plenty "thank you's" to go around!! :)

Thanks to all you reviewers for inspiring me to continue! ^_^ Now, it's time to go leave one. ;) Or if you'd rather, send all comments, questions, and suggestions to:
duonotsuin@yahoo.com