Neither Bulma nor Vegeta said a word on the way home. Bulma kept two hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road, her short blue hair and yellow scarf blowing from the wind of the open convertible. Vegeta draped an arm over his side of the car and stared out at the rolling landscape, his expression stoic and unreadable. Trunks, meanwhile, played his hand held gaming console, occasionally muttering a curse.
When they got back to Capsule Corporation, they took to their usual routines like clockwork. Bulma declared dinner would be ready in an hour before heading off to her lab. With a barely audible grunt, Vegeta beelined to the gravity room. And Trunks made his way upstairs to his bedroom, his eyes never leaving his Gameboy screen.
An hour came and went. Then the three family members rejoined in the kitchen, along with Dr. Briefs and Bunny. They ate quietly, a large meal of baked fish with curried rice, soybeans, and miso soup. Mrs. Briefs tried to engage Trunks in conversation about school (to no avail), and Dr. Briefs made a few cursory comments about the status of the business and the progress of the teleportation project they had been working on since Goku returned from Yadrat.
After dinner, they departed again. The cleaning bots, which were patented by Bulma in her teens to avoid doing household chores, took care of the dishes.
But it was inevitable that at some point Bulma was going to have to say something to Vegeta. There was no way that things could proceed as normal unless she got an explanation – even a bullshit one – from the Prince of all Saiyans. She knew it, he knew it, Trunks and his grandparents knew it too. They were just biding their time until that last minute when both Bulma & Vegeta were ready to call it a night and went to bed.
That time came close to midnight, when the roller coaster of events from the day finally caught up with them. Even Vegeta, seemingly tireless when it came to physical training, was exhausted from the trials that led to the defeat of Majin Buu. He hoped that Bulma might take mercy on him and spare him the "talk" knowing he would be tired. And yet as soon as he walked into their bedroom, he saw Bulma already sitting in bed. She was reading a trashy paperback by the light of her nightstand. When she looked up and saw Vegeta, she set her book down and crossed her arms.
"Vegeta," she started, but he quickly cut her off.
"Not tonight, woman. I'm not interested." He walked over to his side of the bed, kicked his boots off and left his gloves on his nightstand, as he had every night that he had stayed at Capsule Corp. He could feel her eyes on his back, but he was intent on ignoring them. He was just about to slip under the sheets, when he felt Bulma grab his wrist. He sighed, easily removing himself from her grip and laid on his side to avoid looking at her. Shortly thereafter, he received a smack to the head.
"Vegeta, don't you ignore me when I'm talking to you. I know you're tired – I am too – but we need to talk about this."
Vegeta huffed. "What's there to talk about?" he snapped. "It's done. It's over with. Everyone's alive, including that ridiculous pink, blubbering excuse for a life form. There's nothing to discuss."
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about." Bulma's voice changed tone dramatically. No longer was she stern or accusing, but rather soft, vulnerable, hurt. Vegeta felt the depth of her pain reach him. Grudgingly, he turned to face her.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you," he barked. "You knew when we got into this that I wasn't some heroic knight in shining armor, like out of one of those fools in those ridiculous wads of paper you waste so much time staring at. I am a warrior. And the best warriors are powerful. Ambitious. Ruthless. I'm not going to sit here and pretend I didn't know what I was doing or that I didn't know you were in that crowd, just so that your conscience can feel a little bit lighter. I've killed before, and I'll kill again. That's never going to change."
"I guess I just never realized before that killing would include me." Tears leaked from Bulma's eyes like crystal raindrops falling from an aquamarine sky. Vegeta, while pained, was struck once again by her tremendous beauty. He reached out to catch a tear on her cheekbone, brushing it away softly.
"I'm not proud," he rasped. He hated the feelings bubbling inside of him: guilt and doubt. He had been working very hard to suppress these two emotions since that moment he decided to release the ki blast into the stands of the stadium. But with his azure angel shedding tears next to him in bed, he couldn't avoid it any longer. He sighed and relented to the "talk."
"All my life I was raised to believe that my purpose was to be the strongest fighter. Whether it was under my father's rule or Frieza's, the goal was always the same. And when you've spent that many years, repeating that same mantra to yourself – well, even an overly educated Earth woman can't sway that."
"But we've talked about this before," Bulma choked. "I know so many of your life's circumstances were outside of your control... but I thought we had an understanding. I thought... I thought that Trunks and I had changed you."
Vegeta growled in frustration. "I allowed myself to change in honor of you and Trunks. Don't presume that anyone, even yourself, changes me without my knowledge and consent, woman."
"Okay, whatever – semantics. My point is that I thought we meant enough to you that you didn't have to go back to being Mr. Universe. I thought you had finally junked your stupid feud with Goku."
"I will never give up trying to beat Kakarott," Vegeta said sternly. "Never."
"Even at the expense of blowing up a stadium full of people!" Bulma suddenly exclaimed. She sat straight up in bed and looked Vegeta straight in the face, horror written in her eyes. "Vegeta, you said it yourself. You only change insomuch as you let yourself change. When you stop at nothing to gain power over someone or something else, that makes you no better than..."
"Don't you dare say his name to me," Vegeta hissed, clasping his hand over Bulma's mouth. For several hot, sizzling seconds they bore into each other with a piercing gaze. The blue waves of an ocean crashed against the opaque darkness of a stormy sky. Then Vegeta slowly took his hand away and glared. Bulma glared right back, although she permitted him relief from a rebuttal – just this once.
A few minutes of silence passed before Vegeta spoke. He tentatively measured each word and sentiment before unleashing it from his tongue.
"I-I... I made a mistake. While it's true that I'm still committed to exceeding Kakarrot's strength and skill as a fighter, I have long since relinquished that pursuit with no strings attached. Before, I would not have hesitated to blow this planet up in an instant, if only to infuriate that third-class clown and draw out his will to do battle. But when I came to this planet after that childish parade around Namek, I learned of other pleasures that gave me greater satisfaction in my life – a satisfaction which I chose for myself."
Fresh tears were spilling down Bulma's cheeks. She offered her hand to Vegeta, who took it in both his own with a surprising gentleness. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her soft skin.
"Because it was a choice I made for myself though, I doubted it. Constantly. After a lifetime of indoctrination, how could I be sure that what I wanted was really what was right for me? I feared that I was sacrificing years of suffering and hard work for lazy desires, for comfort and stability. I feared that time away from battle had softened me, blinded me to the bloody purpose which I was destined to achieve.'
"That is why I did it, Bulma." Vegeta gripped her hand firmly then and pierced the blue of her eyes with his own black ones. A swarm of a thousand black hawks swooped in upon her, their huge wings surrounding her, enclosing in upon her until she was engulfed by the shadowy flock's embrace. "I caved to my own doubts that I had let my father down. I believed everything that fucking Frieza had spat at me in his torture cell. I had confirmed my own suspicions of my inherent weakness. I saw millions of my men die in shame because their prince was a coward, a deserter. I envisioned Kakarott stealing my title and my throne, my rightful inheritance. All because I decided upon a quiet life with a beautiful alien woman and my cub."
"Oh Vegeta..." Bulma whispered, running her hand through his mane of wild hair. She stroked his temple too and leaned against his shoulder.
"When I let my mind succumb to Babidi, he kept telling me to kill you," Vegeta said coldly. Bulma did not move from his side, although she stiffened. "He could sense the ethical barrier you symbolized for me. He wanted you gone so that he could have full access to my carnal, battle-hungry urges."
"I aimed for you," he admitted, glancing down at her. "In the stands. That blow was so close to incinerating you because I was ready to throw you away as drastically as I had thrown my former life away for you. It was only in a split second of doubt – doubting my own doubts (Vegeta grunted bitterly) – that I inched my trajectory to the right and avoided hitting you."
"And it was that moment that I knew I was forever changed." Vegeta shifted Bulma off his shoulder to look her in the eyes again. "Even sacrificing myself to the will of another, allowing my actions to be dictated by someone else, I still sought to protect you."
"That's why when the time finally came to face Buu, I ultimately chose to sacrifice myself for you and Trunks. For whatever foolish reason, I enjoy having you around."
While her eyes were still wet with tears, Bulma cracked a grin. She wrapped her arms around Vegeta, spooning herself against the muscular slope of his resting form. Even though Vegeta was rather short, she always liked to sink a few inches below him in bed and look up at him as though he were the tallest man alive.
"Oh, Vegeta... was that so hard? That's all I needed to hear. I just wanted to know the truth."
"Yes, damn it. Every time I do something that doesn't fit into your pretty dollhouse of a worldview, that doesn't mean I have to pretend I'm one of your 'daytime TV' talking heads. That's what your babbling mother is for." Vegeta was sharp with his words, but a smile played on his lips. Bulma knew better and smiled back.
"You're such an ass," she teased.
"How else would I put up with a loose-tongued wench like you?"
Bulma whacked his arm lightly. "There you go again! Can't you ever say anything nice to me? How about you acknowledge this pretty face once in a while, huh?" Bulma closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and tilted up her jaw to pose for her bedside companion. He chuckled.
"Yes, I suppose your face is tolerable. What I really enjoy though are these two little treasures." He grabbed at her breasts, squeezing them playfully, causing Bulma to squeal and squirm in his arms.
Shortly thereafter, the two had a long overdue fuck under the sheets. Their tiredness from the day suddenly disappeared and without any shame they twisted, humped, bounced, and contorted into all the positions they could think of. They spent several hours in the night pleasuring each other, before finally collapsing in sweat and cum at about three in the morning. Sticky and panting, they closed their arms around each other. They fell asleep feeling warm and loved.