WELL, WOULD YOU LOOKEY HERE!
A B/V one-shot.
Whattya know. ;)
Hehe. Well, I told you folks that I wanted to write a B/V, and I did...but with some help.
I had a crazy dream about Vegeta finding a thong in the laundry room, and I had the need to crack out a story. ;)
WITH THE COLLABROTORY - not a word, but I am making it one - ASSISTANCE OF MY WONDERFUL FRIEND: Buckets Full O' Sunshine, I was able to create this wonderful story for you guys!
I had TONS of fun writing this with you, and I appreciate your assistance. You are one hilarious girl!
We hope that you enjoy!
Disclaimer: We both do not own anything of DB, DBZ or GT. We are simply just fans, writing fanfiction.
Enjoy. :)
Within a yellow dome-shaped building, explosions could be heard during the seemingly bright afternoon day. What followed after was a string of curses and angered grunting as a diminutive man stomped out, soaked in sweat and grime.
"WOMAN!" he hollered down the halls of Capsule Corp. as he stormed down to the blue-haired scientist's lab.
Storming through the doors, the prince stopped in front of Bulma's desk with a frown. "Your tin-can of a machine broke once again. I demand that you fix it this instant!"
A blue-haired woman shot an annoyed look at Vegeta before she set her phone down.
"Vegeta, have you ever heard of knocking? I was in the middle of doing business, you spoiled ape!" Bulma stood abruptly from her desk, scowling. "This is the millionth time you broke the gravity room. Fix it yourself!"
Vegeta shot a glare at his wife and his frown deepened. "As my mate, it is your duty to obey my commands. I will not bring myself as low as fixing a damned, abominable machine that you created."
Bulma rolled her eyes as and screamed exasperatedly to herself. "I am not your slave, your highness," she said mockingly, putting her hands on her hips. "If you continue to break it so much, then don't even bother using it. I'm busy. Fixing it is a waste of my time."
The bluenette sat back down, completely ignoring her husband as she started on her paperwork.
Vegeta curled his hands into fists as his eyes narrowed. "If you created the pathetic machine right the first time, we wouldn't run into this problem on a periodic basis!" he snapped back before giving her a smirk. "I suppose that is what I get for staying with a weak-minded human."
Bulma was deeply insulted. Her face reddened until her ears were practically blowing steam. "You...you insolent man!" She slammed her palms on the table, sending documents flying and the room to tremble. The scientist jabbed a finger at Vegeta's face. "Get out! You are on laundry duty tonight, you hear?!"
The prince glared at the finger inches away from his nose before his gaze flickered back to her aqua orbs. "Fix that machine, woman," he grated out, refusing to move an inch out of the room.
Gritting her teeth and refusing to back down, Bulma spat out, "Let's make a deal. You do the laundry. Everyone'slaundry. Then I'll fix your precious machine."
He dared to bark out a laugh. "If you think I will stoop down and do the laun—" A pregnant pause fell in the middle of his sentence when he caught the gleam of promise in Bulma's eyes. He growled and turned his back to her. "Fine," he barked. "That machine better be complete when I am finished."
With that said, his princeliness exited the blue-eyed genius's lab, fuming.
Bulma shrieked loudly, throwing her arms up. "I can never win!" she exclaimed before she sat down and went back to work.
Storming cantankerously through the hallway, employees fled at sight from the prince as Vegeta made his way to his room. He was royalty. Why did he have to demote himself to the work of commoners? Compiling a basket of clothes, the man then made his way to his children's room, not bothering to check whether Trunks or Bra's clothes were dirty in the first place. Soon, he had an entire army of laundry at his disposal. Vegeta grumbled in distaste.
"Infuriating woman," he muttered as he stomped down the corridors.
Kicking the door to the laundry room open, Vegeta dumped the load of clothes onto the ground with a huff of annoyance. He grabbed an armful of clothes, varying in all different shades, and stuffed them into the washer.
He grabbed a bottle of laundry detergent and scanned the back of the bottle for instructions.
"Helps remove odor and leaves a scent of freshness... fill to line... BAH!" Disregarding the instructions, Vegeta unscrewed the cap without regard to the contents being spilled. "I am the Prince of all Saiyans! I won't let a bottle tell me what to do!" Without skipping another beat, he poured the entire bottle of detergent into the washing machine.
He failed to notice the "DANGER: DEADLY TOXINS IF PUT IN EXCESS" warning rimmed in obnoxious yellow and black stripes.
As he began to walk out of the room, he felt an item of clothing snag itself around his shoe.
"Idiotic female humans and their obsessiveness with large amounts of clothes," he muttered under his breath as he glanced down at his foot. Vegeta's eyes bulged from their sockets in disgust as he stared at the article of clothing atop his shoe.
With a look of repugnance, the prince slowly bent over and picked up the item of clothing by its lacy waistline with his fingertips. He held the black undergarment at arm's length and shuddered.
"A thong?!" he exclaimed. Vegeta glanced at the ground once more and saw a white piece of paper underneath his sneaker.
Again, the prince bent over and picked up the piece of paper. His dark orbs scanned the paper that read: 'Bra, please call this number.'
The gears in Vegeta's mind began to spin out of control, and he gritted his teeth in anger as he put two and two together. "My daughter is courting someone," he growled out, furious that he had not known sooner. "Well, then," Vegeta muttered with a large smirk, "I can fix that problem." He chuckled darkly.
Still gripping the lacy cloth in his hands, Vegeta's senses honed in on his daughter's energy signal. She was in her room—doing Dende knows what teenage girls do—and he promptly made a beeline there, intent to bring hell to whoever was seeing his princess.
Vegeta's eyes shone with an evil gleam.
Oh, yes. He enjoyed plotting people to their deaths.
One thought swam around in Vegeta's mind: that whoever was dating his daughter would be experiencing excruciating pain in the near future.
Just before Vegeta reached Bra's room, he realized that two energy signals occupied the room, both of which he recognized.
Trunks and Bra.
Immediately, he became suspicious. The two siblings never trespassed each other's room, unless...
Lowering his ki, Vegeta pressed his ear to the door, hearing hushed murmurs on the other side. His eyebrows knitted together when he heard Bra scoff.
"Come on, Trunks!" she exclaimed as quietly as she could in a hushed whisper. "I need you to do this for me!"
"You can't be serious, Bra." Trunks' voice was exasperated. "Why are you asking me to do this?"
"Because Daddy would NEVER let me on a date!" she whined. "Maybe if you give me your blessing, it won't turn out as bad!"
'DATE?!' Vegeta ground the lacy panties in his gloved hand, a visible vein popping on his forehead.
An audible sigh came from inside, and Vegeta could imagine his son raking his hand through his hair. "Bra, you should know that my blessing wouldn't make much of a difference. And, if Dad finds out, I may as well kiss goodbye to my life," Trunks said seriously. "Just... I don't know, talk to Mom about it or something."
"You're over exaggerating, Trunks!" she claimed with an irritated sigh. "Daddy wouldn't kill you, he would almost kill you. There's a difference," she said with a small giggle.
Vegeta smirked, figuring that she was most likely laughing at her brother's terror. 'Damn right. That boy should fear me.'
"And, if I told Mom, Dad would find out eventually, somehow." A pause fell between the two siblings before Bra continued on quietly. "Besides...I just...I just wish Daddy would let me do what I want without making me feel bad about whatever it is I want to do."
"Then just come clean and be honest," Trunks advised. Then he added, "Besides, if you get Mom on your side, you're practically good to go. No one's scarier than her."
Bra growled in frustration at her brother's unthinkable suggestion. "If you don't help me, I will stop doing half of your paperwork!"
From the spike in his energy, Vegeta deduced Trunks was clearly aghast. "You wouldn't dare!"
Bra chuckled. "You think I wouldn't? In addition to that, I'll tell mother that I have been forging your signature."
Vegeta rolled his eyes, knowing that his daughter undoubtedly had her arms crossed over her chest, her face adorning a victorious smirk.
Like mother like daughter.
A conceding groan of defeat came from the other side. "Fine! I'll help you, alright? I won't tell Dad about you dating. What do you need?" His tone was begrudging as if bracing himself to face the worst.
Vegeta's eye twitched and he pushed himself away from the door, infuriated that his son fell to his sibling's wishes!
Bra clapped her hands. "Great! Now here's the plan—"
At that moment, the door to Bra's room blasted open, splaying slinters of wood as Vegeta furiously barged his way in. His hair seemed to crackle as his barely contained rage swept through him. His eyes landed on Trunks, who was peeled against the wall, eyes widened in shock. Bra mirrored her brother's expression.
"Care to explain," Vegeta's voice was dangerously calm, "what it is you are hiding from me?"
"Me?!" Trunks spluttered. "I am not the one hiding anything!"
"Do not lie to me, boy!" Vegeta spat out, his hands curling into fists as he prepared to beat his son into a pulp.
"Daddy!" Bra whined as she ran over to her father and clutched his arm.
Vegeta did not spare a glance at his daughter. Instead, he drilled his eyes into Trunks. "Explain yourself!" he demanded menacingly. The undergarment and paper crumpled further.
Trunks threw his hands up in the air and released an aggravated laugh. "Bra wants to go on a date," he stated honestly as he lowered his arms and placed them on his hips. "And she didn't want to tell you or Mother, so she told me."
"Trunks!" Bra snapped, shooting him a glare before turning her gaze back at her father. "Please don't be mad, Daddy," she pleaded with a frown as her grip on his forearm tightened.
Vegeta softened at his daughter's imploring stare, but it did not assuage his anger. He ground his teeth and snarled, "No human scum is worthy enough to court my daughter. Were you planning to go behind my back and mate with this—this human?!"
Bra's eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "I am not going to mate him!" she shrieked. "You raised me better than that," she stated with a huff. "I'm just...trying to get someone off my mind," she trailed off quietly.
"If that is true, then explain this," Vegeta spat. He unfurled the panties and note clenched tightly in his palms, practically throwing it at Bra. She fumbled to catch it.
Bra caught the underwear and note and observed it quickly. The blue-haired teen shrieked as she realized the two items did not belong to her. She threw them back at her father. "DADDY!" she yelled, her face reddening from embarrassment. "That's not my underwear! And the note has Mom's handwriting on it!"
The apples of Trunks' cheeks turned a dark shade of red as he turned away from his father and sister wordlessly. He unbuttoned his dress shirt slightly, attempting to release the heat of embarrassment that was radiating off of him.
For one of the few times in Vegeta's life, he was struck speechless. His face was a mixture of shock before morphing to horror, betrayal, and anger. Steam blew out his ears.
"What... did you say?" the prince uttered, aghast.
Bra's blush deepened. "It's Mom's handwriting. If you should be confronting anyone, it should be her."
Trunks glanced at the forgotten underwear and note on the ground and covered his face with his hands, shaking his head.
That day, the almighty Capsule Corporations broke in half by an enraged, and nearly feral, yell.
"BULMA!"
"VEGETA!" Another yell echoed throughout the building as Bulma marched down the hallways in absolute fury.
After a long day of hard work and assuaging customers, the scientist was finally getting around to fixing the gravity room before she was assaulted by the color pink. She had nearly slipped in the process, and instantly, her eyes honed in on the monstrosity that was emerging from the laundry room.
Needless to say, Bulma was beyond pissed. SOMEONE had put too much detergent in the laundry and now...!
Someone was going to pay!
Bulma stood watch in front of the laundry room door, waiting for the princely culprit to arrive.
Moments later, Vegeta stormed down the hallway with a look of pure rage.
"WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS?!" they shouted in unison.
Bulma pointed to the suds travelling through the cracks of the door and into the hall.
On the other hand, Vegeta held the thong and note an arm's length away from the genius.
Each directed a venomous glare strong enough to destroy mankind to the other.
"Look," Bulma spat, gesturing toward the oozing goo, "what happened because of your thoughtlessness!"
"I don't give a damn about those pathetic Earthling garments!" Vegeta snarled, his anger growing as each second passed between them. "However, I would love to hear your explanation for this," he spat as he threw the two items at her.
Vegeta eyed her carefully and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. "Is there something you would like to tell me? Have you attempted to assist our daughter in courtship?"
Visibly shaking, Bulma glanced only once at the note in hand, scanning it over. Her mouth set in a hard line before adopting a composed expression. She leveled her eyes to his and glared.
"Are you accusing me of setting our daughter up?" Bulma gripped the panties in her hands, offended at his accusation. She threw them to the floor. "That was Krillin's number to give a surprise party for Eighteen, genius! Now, CLEAN UP THE MESS YOU MADE!"
Vegeta gaped at his wife for a few moments, at loss for words for the second time that day.
"Make the bot clean it," he grated out. "I have more important things to do."
Picking up the lacy undergarment from the floor, Bulma chucked it at Vegeta's head. "Clean it yourself you useless, pompous man!"
She stomped away. Next time, she was going to throw a hammer instead.
Vegeta glanced at the mess and threw him arms up in the air. "BAH!" he exclaimed as he stormed down the hall in search for a cleaning bot.
Nearly a week later, the day of Eighteen's surprise birthday party arrived. Bulma straightened her red dress, smacking on lipstick as she did so.
Vegeta entered the bedroom with a scowl, ignoring his wife as he hastily walked over to their closet. He was still infuriated that she had kicked him out of their room until he apologized.
What did she take him for? A guilt complex?
Seeing Vegeta's irritation, Bulma merely rolled her eyes and continued ignoring him. Prideful as they were, she was still waiting for an apology. Renovating was expensive!
Vegeta snorted at his wife's reaction. He refused to be the first one to begin a conversation, that is, if there would be one at all. The prince began to change from his training shorts and into his usual armor.
Scowling in the mirror, Bulma coughed, obviously wanting him to take the initiative. She glowered as she slipped on her earrings.
The Saiyan turned his back to his wife and pulled on his shirt with a sly smirk. It would not be long before she would get annoyed and start yelling at him.
A vein visibly throbbed on the genius' head. She took out a nail filer, moving it back and forth gratingly on her nails. With his sensitive hearing, Bulma knew Vegeta would hate that sound.
Vegeta growled at the sound and turned to his wife, sending her an icy glare. He clamped his lips together, refusing to speak.
Inwardly, Bulma smirked. She whistled loudly, and once she was finished with her fingers, moved on to her toenails. She did it all slowly and tantanizingly.
Finally, no longer able to stand it, Vegeta walked over to her and plucked the nail file out of her manicured fingers, throwing it across the room.
Bulma raised her brow, whipping out another nail filer and blew her fingers at his face. She simply turned around and continued her business.
Finally at the peak of irritation, Vegeta snarled at Bulma. "Damn it, woman! Stop playing these games!"
Bulma glared at him. "Well, do you have something to say?"
"Tch. No."
"I'm tired of this Vegeta." Bulma crossed her arms. Something flashed in her eyes and her voice quieted. "Is it so hard to just talk to me?"
Vegeta scowled in response.
Sighing exasperatedly, Bulma shoved her way past him and stormed to the door. "Fine! If that's how it is, then don't even bother."
Vegeta closed his eyes and released a loud sigh. "Woman," he growled out.
Bulma froze, her hand midway from turning the doorknob. She waited.
His eyes opened and he walked over to her, grabbing her forearm. "I..." He sighed, his pride getting the best of him. Instead of verbally apologizing, his gaze softened slightly before he placed a small peck on her cheek. He pulled away and brushed past her, exiting the room before his pride was completely stripped from him.
Bulma was left there, standing speechless. She touched her cheek absently, rather touched. Was this Vegeta's way of apologizing?
With a grin, she exited their room, her mood significantly lighter. He was never going to live this down, but she supposed she could be nice for today.
Outside in the garden, the most agonizing sound known to mankind could be heard as Krillin stood "singing" into the microphone in honor of his wife. In all honesty, it sounded like a cat died. The lady in question revealed her perpetual stoic expression, save for the perspiration developing on her skin.
"Why did we revive this pathetic human?" Vegeta muttered under his breath. His ears twitched in annoyance.
"Krillin has done plenty of good for the Earth," Bulma defended her long-time friend. So far, they were finally on speaking terms once again, although she knew things had not been completely solved. Turning once more to observe Krillin, Bulma took a sip of her wine before muttering, "Although I would like to strangle his vocal cords..."
Vegeta tittered. "He is a waste of wishes." The prince watched at their friends and family chatted over Krillin's singing, seemingly to enjoy themselves. "Woman, go enjoy the company of others," he said, leaning back in his lawn chair and closing his eyes.
Bulma looked up at Vegeta with mild surprise. "Oh? But, I don't mind spending company with you tonight." She smiled sultrily before lifting her toes to give him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. She flicked his nose. "See you later." With a wink, she strutted off to enjoy the party, grabbing another drink as she did so.
After a few moments of observing the others, Vegeta sighed and stood. He walked over to Bulma and took a sip from his beverage. She visibly beamed at his presence and a smirk slid onto his face.
The woman may be infuriating sometimes, but nonetheless, she was his, and he was hers.
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