A/N: There will be shifts in time throughout this story. I look forward to hearing from you!
Disclaimer: I do not own most of these characters.
Irregularities
The stars blurred outward in an intense spectacle that the woman never got tired of watching. In a daze she imagined how they would look back home: still and untouchable. An adventure to come, if she so chose to take the journey. But that choice was stolen from her.
"Course set." She snapped to attention and gave a sharp look towards the voice that had ended her musing. The offender was barely a man. The light stubble on his chin caught the cold light emanating from the screen below him.
"Good Job, Vladimir." Bulma attempted to soften her harsh gaze and deliver confidence to the flight engineer. He had done the complicated job with relative ease, even though the boy had received no real training. His young blue eyes were weary and apprehension escaped from his fidgeting hands and tight lips. She knew the answer to her question, but trying to transfer some control to the capable boy she asked, "How long until we reach Verda?"
Vladimir replied by straightening his back and knowingly answering, "Five days, Captain."
"Keep me posted on any irregularities;" Bulma delivered her command by cutting the air with her hand in a way that she hoped passed along the importance of her order. Bulma turned from the viewing deck and walked towards the cold metal door which swooshed open in quick and efficient timing. She strode through the open doorway to be hidden by the white door snapping back into place.
Keisha swiveled her chair to face Vladimir's back. She tossed her hair in a teasing flip and innocently asked, "What's an irregularity at warp speed in empty space?"
The young man looked at her suspiciously and returned, "I guess we will know if we see it." He looked down at Keisha's legs as they crossed over one another and her skirt slipped up her thigh. She let a little giggle escape and smiled at him. He imagined the captain did not think the communication officer flirting with him would be entirely irregular, but he sure as hell did.
Bulma raised a couple of fingers to the bridge of her nose as she heard the girl tease the flight officer. They will know what an irregularity is … if they see it, she tried to instill confidence in her decision to hand over the bridge. She continued on her path to the elevator. Her boots methodically slapping the ground in a military style as her thoughts once again returned to their previous occupation.
She never imagined her life could have changed in this way. Here she was debasing flirting when at one time she could have worn the crown as the biggest flirt of all time. She punched the button hard in anger, but the elevator doors still slid open in compliance allowing her passage to the top floor. Once ascending the ship, Bulma prepared herself for returning home. It will never get easier. She thought to herself in trepidation.
The doors parted revealing a tiled hallway which opened on the right to a large kitchen and dining area. A yellow haired woman turned around and smiled brightly at her new guest. "Oh, Bulma! I see your back from the office. Would you like something to eat, sweetie?"
"No Mom, not right now." Bulma's voice was sullen and she suddenly realized how tired she had become.
The older woman cocked her head to the side and looked alarmingly at her daughter. "Don't be silly. Come sit down." Bulma obliged as her mother fished a glass from the cabinet and poured lemonade into it. "What we need is a nice trip to Opal Spa, it is such a shame they are always booked now." She set the glass in front of the tired woman and ran her fingers through her daughter's blue stringy hair continuing, "Your hair is so flat, a perm would look so nice!"
Bulma looked down at the floor and pushed down the urge to reveal to startling truth to her mother: the Opal Spa is gone, it's all gone. She switched her gaze to the kitchen windows where she saw her mother's garden blooming with the intensity that could only be produced from an optical illusion. She gazed back at her mother, grabbed the glass and took a gulp of the inviting liquid. Calmly and sweetly she replied, "Maybe a spot will open for us, I'll call tomorrow."
"Yes, Yes." The delusional woman walked back to the kitchen counter, grabbed a spoon and began mixing the cookie batter vigorously. "Why it's no wonder those handsome boys don't come around anymore. You are always so busy. I will never get grandchildren this way! You're still young though honey, one will come back for you." Bulma prepared herself for the inevitable; Her mother never shied away from mentioning her favorite candidate. "That Vegeta is such a hottie, if only you could tame him," the older woman turned back towards her daughter releasing a suggestive wink and giggle.
Bulma stood up abruptly and slammed her fist on the table. "I told you. He is gone!" She enunciated each of the words in a hope that it would sink in. The young woman's anger boiled inside of her, and she closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself.
The older woman wasn't fazed, she continued rambling, "Oh please, he'll come back. I see the way he looks at you. He's hooked; you just have to real him in." She continued to mix the batter in large swooping circles. "Remember how much that prince loved cookies? Imagine! A rugged man like him having such a sweet tooth." Bulma focused on the cookie batter in her mother's arms. Once, her mother had begun her ranting about Bulma's oppurtunities, there was no coming back.
Bulma took a deep breath, pushing down the anger and sadness trying to erupt from within her. "I'm going to take a shower." She exited the kitchen and climbed the stairs to the second floor. In the dark hallway, she stopped beside her bedroom door and looked at the door across from hers. It was closed and uninviting. She knew the cold feeling she would receive if she opened the door. Shaking her head, she walked into her room and continued to the bathroom.
She undressed and stared at herself in the mirror. Her soft curves had melted away to be replaced by hard skin slapped over bones and muscle. She looked worn. Leaning over, she turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower. The water pelted her back and steam engulfed her body. She leaned her head backwards and allowed her head to enter the spray. The water travelled through her hair and slithered down her face as she felt herself to begrudgingly relax. Cookies, she thought to herself as the incident of Vegeta's first exposure to the food raced through her mind, the man did love cookies.
~~~ two years prior ~~~
She sat at her table hunched over blue prints. Come on problem, talk to me. She attempted to coax the issue from the pages into her mind. The smell of warm, freshly made chocolate chip cookies danced in front of her, but she ignored them. She would allow herself a cookie after she made a little headway. There has to be a way to increase its resistance. The hum of her labs machinery droned on in a soothing way; she likened the noise to the sound of the ocean. The faint ticks of the parts colliding and the pumps efforts to keep enclosed spaces at vacuum hid the slight swoosh emanating from across the room.
Bulma had never been a patient woman. Her eyes wondered to the source of the aroma. No, she told herself, but she knew she had already lost the battle. "Alright, just one to stimulate the mind," she convinced herself out loud.
Her teeth sank into the cookie and the piece immediately began to melt in her mouth. She let out a low, satisfied moan. Pulling the remaining cookie from her mouth, the chocolate stretched like hot cheese between her mouth and the half eaten cookie. The oozing chocolate broke free and slapped her chin in a surprising, burning sensation causing her to release a giggle. Replacing the cookie on the plate, she wiped the drying chocolate from under her mouth with her index finger and put the finger between her lips. Sucking the delicious treat from her finger, she closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair. Letting out an audible sigh, she opened her eyes again and nearly jumped a foot in the air.
Vegeta stood on the opposite side of the table, his imposing figure radiating annoyance. "Done yet, woman?" He questioned, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. A smirk grew on his face as one corner of his lips slightly raised and his eyes narrowed.
A slight blush flourished on her cheeks as she realized she was amusing him with her cookie eating display. In the small amount of time Bulma had shared her home with the Saiyan she had already become familiar with this look. In an effort to assert herself, she pulled her eyebrows together and demanded, "How long have you been there!"
His gruff voice calmly responded to her accusatory tone, "Long enough to see you make a fool of yourself," with a small pause he raised one eyebrow, adding "once again." His smirk increased as he parted his lips to reveal his teeth.
She released a small, umph, and stared defiantly into his cold, shark-like eyes. "You're just jealous because I have these wonderful cookies, and you have none." She tossed her head to the side causing her hair to flip away of her face and raised her chin in superiority.
"Barely," he said under his breath in a guttural response several octaves below his normal tone. He looked at the small woman behind the expansive desk with a look that predators reserve for their prey. His focus flicked to her parted lips, then traced down to her exposed delicate neck. He could see her pulse beating and almost heard the light thudding within her. He inhaled a large, painstaking breath but merely caught the scent of her chocolate offerings.
Bulma felt he was trying to analyze her as an animal would examine an unfamiliar object. She was trapped by his intense stare and started to feel uncomfortably exposed. In an attempt to adjust his gaze, she held her palm out next to the plate of cookies. "Want one?" She nervously bit her lip lightly and released a hopeful smile.
He removed his eyes from her to look at the plate of cookies, and then he slowly dragged his gaze to the blue prints in front of her. "How long before you pathetic humans finish my gravity room?" His eyes snapped to Bulma's at his description of her race. He knew her response would be noteworthy.
"Pathetic!" Bulma shot up from her chair and shrieked, "At least my race has managed to survive!" A low growl emanated from Vegeta's chest. It caused a shiver to run up her spine as she felt the immediate danger she had placed herself. Crap, she cursed to herself. She closed her eyes, bowed her head in shame and mumbled, "Sorry Vegeta, that was out of line."
He glared at her apologetic form as anger boiled inside of his body. His eye twitched, and an unbearable amount of pressure began to scale through his veins. As he clenched and unclenched his fists, he took a deep breath letting it out slowly. His mouth formed a vicious snarl and he rumbled, "Your race exists purely from luck, woman."
She opened her eyes and looked into his eyes. His tight face and bared teeth frightened her, but she felt that this bomb was slightly diffused. Her submissive posture seemed to have calmed the easily agitated man. "Your room will be finished by the end of the week."
His focus left her face and trailed down her body back to the cookies. He grunted, reached toward the plate and quickly snatched it from in front of Bulma. He turned around sharply and exited the room. Once alone, the woman slouched into her chair and let out a sigh of relief. I have to learn to keep my mouth shut.