A/N~ Okay, sorry to all my "Blood Bond" fans as it took a backseat over the last week so I could whip up an entry for Kinky-Typo's ArtJam on DeviantArt. And here it is!
Just a quick little one-shot to try and explain how Vegeta came to own a pink "Bad Man" shirt.
It Was An Accident
By ArizonaRed
Bulma snatched up the last white blouse off the floor of her bedroom that was in need of laundering. She shuffled the massive pile in her arms and breezed down the hallway towards the wash room. Her pace slowed as she reached the one door in her house that was perpetually closed...the room belonging to the scowling Saiyan prince. Balancing the arm load of dirty clothes on one side, Bulma knocked on the the entryway. After a few moments of silence, she knocked harder and turned the handle.
"Um...Vegeta? Do you need anything washed?" A quick survey of the room proved the silence had a reason, he wasn't there. The cerulean haired human hesitated only a moment before pushing the door open farther and cautiously walked in.
It was the first time she'd been in the guest room since she invited the newcomer to Earth to stay and train at Capsule Corp. And since that day, almost two months ago, he hadn't said more than twenty words to her that weren't demands or threats. The room was explicitly neat and orderly; bed made, damp towels, hung to dry, clean clothes folded into the dresser drawers and dirty training suits stuffed into the hamper. She was pleasantly impressed with the organizational skills Vegeta possessed, no doubt reminiscent of his forced service in Frieza's military. Bulma was relieved she wouldn't have to do much in the way of cleaning up after the aloof royal; After spending numerous years around Son Goku, Yamcha and the others, she'd had enough of messy men.
Her eyes fell upon the reason for intruding on the solitary prince's sanctuary...the clothes hamper. Feeling generous (but more over trying to avoid hearing Vegeta demanding for clean clothes again) Bulma trudged across the room and began picking out the few white garments, mostly his ever present gloves and a couple tanks he slept in...when he slept. She dug down to the bottom, making certain she missed nothing when a dash of dark red caught her eye. Giggling to herself, Bulma pulled it to the surface, already certain of what it was. No doubt about it...it was Vegeta's blood red 'Bad Man' shirt.
The instant she saw it in the biker outfitter's front window, the woman playing hostess to the volatile Saiyan knew she had to buy it for him. Even though it started out as an innocent way to unknowingly poke fun at him, the 'casual' button-up shirt quickly became Vegeta's favorite thing to wear above all the other items she had provided him with. Bulma placed it on top of the dirty pile, headed out of his room and towards the laundry.
Quickly sorting the 'darks' from the whites and colors, she decided on washing the colorless clothing first, so Vegeta's gloves would be returned promptly. Dumping the basket load into the washer, the female genius failed to notice the claret shirt tumble into the drum with the others; it's button snagged on a lacy camisole. Pressing the star button, she flounced back to her cozy room, eager to begin her manicure while she waited for the wash cycle to complete.
An hour later, a piercing series of beeps floated down the hall, signaling it's dutiful completion. And as she opened the lid, a rapid confusion poured through every fiber in her body. Pink. Pink? Did she really own this many pink items? One by one she pulled up each piece of clothing, examining them as if she's never laid eyes on them before. Pink socks. Pink sleep tanks. Pink lacy camisole.
Bulma brought it up higher only to discover something else attached, snagged by one of it's own buttons. Realizing she didn't own a pink button up, the Earth woman rotated it until definitive words came into view. BAD MAN.
Oh...shit.
Her heart suddenly constricted, feeling like it stopped beating and was about to explode all at once. It might as well blow up for as soon as Vegeta found out she had bleached his secretly treasured shirt a feminine hue, she was as good as dead. Another icy stab of terror flashed through her...did his sacred gloves turn pink too? Damp pieces of salmon colored clothing were chucked over her shoulder in the maddening search for the elusive coverings. And just as she was losing hope and her sanity, there they lie...all three pairs as bright and uncolored as new winter snow.
A shaky breath of relief was exhaled as Bulma set them aside to air dry; perhaps her life could be spared if they weren't damaged. Crystal blue eyes shifted back over to the offensive tint on the men's shirt...what in the world could she do to save her hide? She quickly dismissed the cowardly idea of simply throwing it in the trash as Vegeta was bound to miss it.
Could she re-dye it? Frantically digging through the random supplies in the laundry room, she pulled out a package of clothing dye she was saving for another fashion project. Reading down the instructions, Bulma's heart sank into her knotted stomach as she instantly picked out the dreaded words.
Not for use on previously bleached items.
As the day wore on and the other laundry loads diminished without catastrophe, Bulma had solemnly resigned herself to the inevitable. She would confess her very accidental mistake and weather the angry storm as it breached the edges of Vegeta's limited restraint. She had improved her chances of leaving his presence unharmed by re-washing / re-bleaching the first load of whites...now they only had the fainted of blush to them, only distinguishable when placed next to unmarred white clothes. When no more could be done to enhance the situation further, the nervous heiress folded all of Vegeta's clothes into immaculately neat piles and trudged toward his room.
She knew there was no point in hoping for an empty dwelling, she had heard him end his day with a slamming door and the sound of steaming water being ran for a shower some time ago. Steeling up her courage, Bulma knocked lightly on the entryway.
"What?" Suddenly, her mouth refused to cooperate, bobbing open like a fish gasping for a watery breath. A few moments later the door flew open, revealing the volatile Saiyan only clad in a pair of black sleep shorts. "What is it!?" He repeated the inquiry of her presence in a louder, gruffer voice.
"I...I washed some of your dirty clothes...here!" Bulma gushed out the explanation and shoved the orderly stack into his chest, as he made no move to accept them. How she prayed that he's just snatch them from her and disappear back into his domain of solitude. Unfortunately, her hopes were in vain as Vegeta slid his cold black eyes down to her dainty hands, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion masked with irritation.
"What are you playing at woman? I don't own anything of that color." Vegeta's expression shifted to an alarmed familiarity as his hand raised to the feminine tinted fabric and pulled it from the rest of the pile. Wincing, Bulma let the rest tumble to the floor while Vegeta looked over the loosened shirt hanging from his fingertips. The prince rotated it until he could read the lettering on the back, his eyes widening at the discovery that it was indeed his. "Wha..." The blue haired human swiftly interrupted the oncoming tirade.
"Oh Vegeta! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bleach your shirt...it just fell in...it was an accident, I swear!" The Saiyan's eyes narrowed savagely as a low growl radiated from his throat. Bulma swallowed anxiously, stooping down to retrieve the other pieces laying on the floor.
"Fucking baka human...and you're supposed to be the smartest your race has to offer? It would have been ridiculously easy to wipe all you pathetic creatures out!" She should have expected an insult, yet still wasn't used to being referred to as 'the stupid human female'.
"Hey! Now that was uncalled for...I said it was only an accident and I meant it. You should talk...you've probably had your head bashed from fighting so much you couldn't even figure out how to work the machine! If you have to reply on a pathetic human for clean clothes, just where does that put your intelligence?!" The earlier growl returned with increased volume, leaving Bulma to wonder briefly if her words had gone too far. With lightening reflexes, Vegeta's thickly muscled arm shot out and snatched the remaining garments from her hand. Muttering no doubt another crude insult in a foreign sounding language, the alien royal retreated back into his room slamming the door in her face.
Bulma let her head fall forward a few inches to rest against the painted wooden door, ashamed of her childish behavior. Couldn't she have just apologized and left it at that? No, but in her defense, it was like he was daring her to reply...taunting her. To see if the audacious human had it in her to try and step up to his level without backing down out of fear. Bulma huffed in irritation at herself and the prince on the other side of the door, then walked back down the hallway towards the finishing laundry that was in need of folding.
After slamming the door in the woman's face, Vegeta flung the shirt into the farthest corner and sat down on his bed in an exaggerated huff. Damn, why did he act like that around her? Normally the elite was better about keeping his chaotic emotions under a tight control, but being next to the brazen female made his stomach knot tortuously. For a few moments, he actually considered finding her and giving what would be passable for an apology-at least for him. Shaking his head almost violently to clear it of the weak minded thoughts, his eyes caught a glimpse of the source of the last fight between Human and Saiyan. The damned pink shirt.
Vegeta frowned to one side of his face and got up to retrieve the discarded button-up. Damn, he really liked it, although he'd never but the one to admit to it. Returning to sit on the bed, Vegeta mulled over the hideously tinted garment, trying to decided what to do. Could he actually wear it? It was too difficult to simply trash the favored item; it was something given to him and only him out of sheer thoughtfulness and kindness. He wasn't sure why but the very idea of Bulma thinking about him...what he liked, what he wanted, what he needed...intrigued the prince to no end. So no, throwing it to the trash bin was out of the question.
He got up and moved to the closet to hang up the cherished shirt. If he was to keep it, that meant he'd have to wear it to keep it useful. Could he be seen in such a feminine color? Was he secure enough in his overwhelming power to not simply blow away anyone that glanced at him for more than two seconds? Vegeta stopped in front of a mirror, admiring the new swell of muscle from his excruciating training regiment. Smirking to himself, definitive answer passed through the Royal's thoughts...Who would dare tease him about wearing a pink shirt?
The one person that could possibly best him in a fight wasn't even here on Earth right now, but he'd be sure not to wear it around that idiot Kakkarrot if he ever did show his face on this planet again. But the others...the woman's friends...they held no threat should they start mocking him. Wasn't she having a get together with them tomorrow? The instigator in him caused his body to stand and collect the shirt from the closet and lay it out with a horridly mismatching pair of yellow pants. Chuckling to himself as he pictured the scar-faced male starting to rib him over his clothing choice, Vegeta shut off the light and climbed into his bed. Bulma would be doubtingly pissed that he decided to start a quarrel, but after all...wasn't there a warning about the wearer embroidered on the back of the shirt?
A/N~ hehe, that was fun! Hopefully fun to read as well...won't you leave me a pretty review?