Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.
Warnings: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.
Prompt: Pride.
Summary: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.
Dangerous Liaisons
Chapter I:
Once upon a time, she wouldn't have called coming home to his figure lounging in her couch and drinking her expensive scotch an unpleasant surprise, but considering how they left things between them over five years ago, that's exactly what she calls it now.
Trouble seems to follow whenever Vegeta is involved, and she doesn't need that on top of the shitty day she had. The fact that, in spite of the time and distance spamming between them the sight of him still makes her heart beat faster, is not exactly adding to the joy of meeting him again.
She is already marching towards him, glare firmly in place and a scathing remark at the tip of her tongue, when his voice stops her in her tracks just as efficiently as if someone had physically punched her and knocked all the air out of her.
"Honey, I'm home", he drawls; a half smirk she has come to know as the bearer of nothing good adorning his face.
Her already incensed blood is now burning. It's uncanny the ability he has to rile her up in a matter of seconds; one would think that after all this time she should have curved him out of her system, but no, he remains firmly rooted beneath her skin, like some kind of chronic disease there is no way of escaping.
"Yes, I can see that. Now kindly get the fuck out!" She growls at him.
"Careful Bulma, your bitch is showing. That's no way to treat a guest." He tuts; a mock-stern finger separating from those still holding the glass of scotch and pointing at her.
She is by his side in two strides and viciously snatches the glass from him. "I'll show you bitch if you don't go back to the hole you crawled out from and leave me alone."
In spite of the cadence of her words, he knows they are lacking real anger and all he hears is a threat and promise all in one. Bantering used to be their default mode of communication, and it amazes him how fast they can pick up from where they left off.
"Oh please do, I still have the marks of your claws in my back from the last time you let her come out. You are very welcomed to add a few more."
She sights and decides to change the course of the conversation; she can feel a familiar heat creeping up her spine, and it's dangerous; very dangerous. Her eyes rest on the remaining amber liquid sitting in the tumbler; she could do with a little liquid courage, after all this was Vegeta we are talking about, and so she tilts it up and lets it burn down her throat. "What do you want Vegeta?" she asks after a beat, and she blames the huskiness of her tone on the scotch; it has nothing to do with the fact that she could swear she tasted him too.
And then comes the million-dollar question: What does he want? For a moment he thinks about answering with the truth and say a simple you, but nothing is ever simple between them, and his pride won't allow him to; and so he settles for his speciality: half truths.
"I want you to come back." Is his simple answer, but the implications that it carries are everything but.
Her eyes widen for a second and then she is back to scowling at him. She can't believe he is asking that of her. "You know I left that life behind me a long time ago."
And he does, the "I left you behind" in her words rings loudly enough.
"Yes, by the way, how is your little charade going on? What was his name? Yamaha?" His worlds are designed to cut, and they do; her reaction is immediate.
"You leave him out of this!" She shouts at him, eyes ablaze and mouth curling into a snarl.
The tumbler goes flying though the air and crashes clangorously behind him. It provides the perfect excuse for his reaction. He doesn't want to show her how much it stings the way she readily defends the scoundrel. "Then come with me!" He shouts back, matching her tone and coming to stand nose to nose with her.
Everything is silent after that. He says nothing more for several moments, just stares at her with those intense eyes of his.
She tries to hold his gaze, but her stomach squirms uncomfortably and her breathing becomes shallower, making her feel dizzy. It's not the silence that disconcerts her, it's not the piercing look he's giving her; it's the way the air crackles between them, the way it becomes so thick with something she can't or doesn't want to identify. So thick she can barely breath.
Her voice is shaky when she talks again, and she hates it. It comes out weak, and so very breathless, her pride hurts; he doesn't deserve to know how much he affects her.
"Okay, I will. When are we leaving?" she asks and takes a step back. His close proximity isn't helping her maintain the illusion of aloofness she wants to project.
He wasn't expecting her to cave in so easily and so he is a little off put by her compliance. "Right now", he spits at her, knowing it's unnecessary but taking relish in the way her face falls. There would be no goodbyes between her and her new boy-toy, not if he can help it.
Bulma is taken aback by his answer, but just shakes her head and leaves him standing in her living room while she goes to her room to pack. She tells herself she is doing it to protect Yamcha and nothing more; the fact that she feels alive again for the first time in so long has nothing to do with it, and neither does the man watching her resting against her doorframe.
And when blue and black clash, she recites her new mantra in her head: "I love Yamcha, I love Yamcha, I love Yamcha, I do!"
She just doesn't know why it feels like it's not enough.
.
Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too!
*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out Spark of Blue, Drabbles from Mirai time and Wishing Well ;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing.
Author's note: This series is based upon the Sin-Week prompts at Maddiesan's Blue and Black livejournal community, and so the time between updates will depend sorely upon the posting of new prompts.