Like Little Drops of Rain
Coffee
When he first woke up after she invited him to stay, she made him coffee with bacon and eggs to go with it.
Of course he didn't even bother touching the damn things. Overtly paranoid ass.
By the time the week ends, he started poking the damn things with his fingers, at a distance. She cringed at the ridiculous sight. Right, she'd just had about enough. She strode confidently to him and took his plate. He looked shocked, and for a moment there she was afraid he was going to blast her but he stood still, as surprised as she was. So she continued, pointing at each food item.
"These are bacon and eggs, okay? Bacon is cured pig's meat and eggs are...well…unborn chicken foetuses. They're standard issue breakfast here in West City." He eyed her warily. She took her fork, stabbed, ate them with gusto, just to show him they were not poisoned or laced with any brain affecting chemicals. When she was done she picked at the crunchy bacon bits before continuing. His eyes were glued on her curiously.
She later pointed at the two mugs of coffee she made. "These are coffee! We normally drink these to wake up along with our breakfast. I normally have this one." She drank the one with milk and sugar. So far he hadn't said anything. After a few moments he piped up, curiously.
"What's the difference?"
She blinked. Of all the things that could happen to her, explaining the Western style breakfast to an ex space thug was really low on her list.
"Huh? It's coffee without milk and sugar in it… Tastes awful. Bitter. "
Without warning he took a sip off the black coffee. To her surprise there was a very subtle change in his face. He looked…pleased?
"Well?"
"I've had worse," he answered before drinking it back again. He seemed…to like it?
They exchanged glances.
"I'll be having breakfast tomorrow, woman," he said regally before retiring to his room.
She nodded before continuing to her lab.
Fear
The thought of his future son being cleanly shot by Cell in the chest has echoed in his head again and again like a never ending nightmare. That boy, who came from the future to help them, knowing that there was no hope for his world to become better. He supposed that brand of selflessness was entirely hers. And even when he came back to life he didn't stay for long, didn't say anything more than sincere goodbyes.
Of course he'd regretted his selfish actions when the boy was still there, in their time. He hadn't gotten used to kindness (to be completely honest he doesn't think he'll ever grasp the idea) and he wished that he could rewind the clock to undo what had been done. It was such a pity, he was a good kid, given the right circumstances they would have gotten along like a house on fire. (an expression he learned from the woman's father, it amused him greatly.)
He'd wondered what his alternate future self was like and if he had lived long enough to see Trunks achieve all the things he wanted to achieve and more. Sometimes he would get little ripples of déjà vu whenever he watched Bulma and the baby together. Like it all had happened before, but the air wasn't a pleasant one, but a suffocating, pressurized gloom surrounding the small happiness.
But in the end he supposed there was little use of wondering of what could have been. He hoped that his future son and his widowed woman are doing fine in their end of the universe.
"Hey Dad! Gramma's making some spaghetti with meatballs!" the brat excitedly announced.
He'd be damned if he didn't take this second chance.
Lust
She kept repeating the mantra, "it's only lust." It was the shield that kept her sane when she realized the attraction between them, when they both bedded together, when the morning comes and they went their separate ways.
He kept repeating that mantra to stop all the confusing things happening to him from driving him mad. When there were butterflies in his stomach when she appeared, when he felt like he could've drowned in her scent, when he pretended nothing mattered each morning.
When they passed each other in the hallway they looked at each other and there it was, a spark, conflicting electricity, warm, cold, distant and near.
And once again they repeated the same mantra inside their heads.
Black
"… so that was what happened," he concluded. During his explanation he didn't dare to look to her face. If there was one thing he knew he'd royally fuck up was this. He knew that he'd be lucky if the only thing she was feeling was anger at him.
What was the worst that could happen? Would she drive him out? No doubt about that. He supposed he'd just go back to the vastness of space, a huge expanse of black. Hopefully it'll swallow him until he was nothing more than just a worthless tiny atom floating at the edge of the universe.
Then he'd never see his son. His mischievous, happy little eight year old. The child was so different from his future counterpart, getting excited at every little thing, smiling every so often and somehow despite all these traits, the kid wormed his way into his heart.
And Bulma. His heart (he was surprised to discover he even had one) clenched painfully. Everything good about his life would end now.
Surprisingly, the woman hadn't exploded or said anything this whole time.
"Bulma..?"
When she slapped him he was almost glad to feel the sting on his cheek. And then another slap. And another. Eventually it was getting really annoying and he opened her eyes and saw her…crying? Upon further inspection it wasn't angry tears…it was…sadness? Why would she shed those?
"You…idiot!" she exclaimed. And then she burst out, sobbing uncontrollably. "Didn't have to die-!"
He tentatively wrapped his arms around her. She didn't say anything else but hug him tighter.
Blue
Bra held the last book in her gift pile carefully. She turned it around and flipped the pages to see the drawings. It wasn't good. The cover illustrations were shoddy at best. Even the crappy-looking illustration from that Matilda book was actually better. And Matilda was full of squiggly drawings to begin with.
"The Tale of the Beautiful Blue Haired Princess and her Friends Who Fights Evil?" Bra said, sounding out the title of the book handed to her. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Did you guys make this up?" She continued flipping.
Bulma and Vegeta groaned. In the background, Trunks was muffling his laughter.
"Is this supposed to be a Pokemon?" she further commented, pointing at a drawing that looked suspiciously like Frieza.
Rough
There was a metallic thudding sound before it was followed with a buzzing, biting noise. Seconds later, there was a pause. Vegeta counted to ten and by the time he reached seven, another buzzing metallic sound popped its way into his ear drums. It was uncomfortable but he'd gotten used to these small annoyances ever since he came back and promised to stay. He kicked, punched and went back to his horse stance and counted, "Two, three…"
"YOU STUPID PIECE OF DUMB CRAP!" To that there was an accompanying loud clang and more curse words than he'd ever heard or utter. And an amused gurgle he shouldn't be able to hear.
Vegeta smirked. And she had the nerve to complain that he was treating the GR badly.
Laugh
"How did your father and I got together?" Bulma repeated as she laser-drilled a metal component. "Basically we're two stubborn idiots who don't back down from challenges even if it went too far," she flatly replied.
Trunks howled with laughter before saying, "Yeah right, mom. Come on, tell me the truth."
Bulma let out a mirthless chuckle.
Whisper
The idiot who blew up the GR was currently in uncincious, heavily bandaged and completely wounded. Boy, so much for their routine of just spending breakfast together and going their separate ways. Now, thanks to the suicidal maniac beside her, she'd have to spend time to fix the GR on top of tending to him on top of her usual workload as the head of R & D at Capsule Corps. How was she supposed to get anything done? Bulma slammed her coffee mug beside his bed, fuming.
On the second day, she softly touched his hair. It was surprisingly soft.
On the third day she called Son-kun for Senzu beans. No luck, he said. Karin was just growing a new batch.
On the fourth day she solved a differential equation on a land speeder beside his bed, her assistant only checking in on her via e-mail. The quiet is a nice change.
On the fifth day she ate breakfast beside his bed, even going so far as making his black coffee just to make everything seem normal. He didn't wake up, of course, the jerk.
She told him the repair progresses on the sixth day. It had been fairly easy to rebuild, knowing what they know about his training routine and what they wanted to accomplish. She asked him if he wanted any improvements. There was no answer.
She fell asleep on the seventh day, forgetting to wake up to make breakfast and she had to attend a conference. She checked up on him that afternoon. Nothing.
She was beginning to get worried on the eighth day. She consulted the doctors, but there was nothing else they could do. She called Chi Chi and Muten Roshi …but nothing like this had ever happened to Goku. The sheer helplessness of it all tore at her. Here was the guy, who keep on getting up even though he gets pulverized time and time again by Goku or the machine and he's now reduced to…this. She sighed and leaned her head on the table and looked at him.
She must've fallen asleep, because she woke up in his room, tableside the next morning. Beside her was a plate of slightly burnt bacon, positively charred eggs, and a cup of coffee with too much milk.
"Sturdier bots." A gruff voice muttered.
"What…?" she groggily asked.
"You wanted to know what else I wanted right?"
At the edge of her eyes she could see him, bandage and all and his blanket on top of her shoulders. Somehow she let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Air Conditioner
Bulma noticed that he'd been following her all day. He hasn't really outright bothered her, per se but nonetheless…
They had some sort of routine going on. She'd wake up earlier than him, make some eggs and bacon to sate him until her mother woke up to cook a bigger meal. They'd both drink some coffee, him bitter and black, hers heavily sweetened and enhanced with a huge dollop of steaming milk. Then she'd walk to the left side of the house to work in her lab and him to the right to the GR in the garden. And then they'd only see each other again during dinnertime.
Somehow today he'd just been…hovering. She could see him on the edge of the window of her lab. When she took off for a bathroom break he was sort of…following her? He didn't quite try to follow her to the bathroom but he'd been always at an arm's length. But he had never looked at her during these times.
Once they reached dinner time she could see him…fidget? He had a calm face but she could see him thinking. When she took their plates from the kitchen, his mind seem to have made up.
"It's been a bit hot in the GR lately," he commented stoically.
She allowed a small, brilliant smile. "Sure. Let me check it tomorrow."
Covered Up
"You are a twat." She said, absentmindedly rolling down the bandage. Of course, Vegeta never learn does he? Injuring himself heavily..AGAIN. He grunted. She dabbed the alcohol on the cotton swab, wringing it before putting it on his arms. He winced in pain before retorting back. "And you are a fool."
They locked eyes for a moment. There was a spark, electricity. It was purely spite, prides clashing.
Bulma neatly tidied up the wrapping. "We're done, Oh Prince of the Wounded."
"Thank you, oh Princess Pain-in-the-Ass."
They both smiled in a strained manner.
"Get a move on then," she said pleasantly, her hand pointing at the door.
Vegeta squirmed, trying to move his heavily bandaged body.
Empty House
Vegeta woke up to an eerily quiet house. This was a rare occurrence. His training clothes were freshly laundered, crisply ironed and put by his bedside. There were no noises of fixing, crashing or burning things around him. No soft footfalls of that mysterious cat creature roaming around the living complex, no rough scratching noise both Bulma and Trunks' boots would make as they walked around the compound nor the decisive clippety clops from Bulma's mom's heels.
The door creaked when he opened them and he found himself cringing at the noise. He'd groggily walked to the kitchen to find his breakfast neatly wrapped with plastic and a small yellow note accompanying it.
"Grocery shopping. Back soon.-Bulma
He sighed and cursed at the universe for granting his wish.
Freedom
For the first time in his life his mind clears, when he realized both him and Kakarot were outclassed heavily by that pink atrocity. There was really nothing else but the present moment, hours, no seconds away before realizing the fat bastard was going to stop at nothing, destroying things because it was "fun", proving to be a bigger brat than his own son.
For the first time he realized that his pride didn't really matter. The planet was going to blow up and he and Kakarot was unable to do anything. And the fat bastard would probably relish turning his Bulma into some sort of bubblegum and chewing her while he'd blast off his son into nothingness. And that was something he'd never be able to accept.
He'd laugh at the cruel irony inwardly before turning to Kakarot to ask for a Senzu bean.
Misunderstanding
He'd never thought he'd see Kakarot actually glare daggers (hell he wasn't even aware that the soft-hearted idiot could) at him when he first mentioned the existence of a space flea market to their respective wives. Even worse, Bulma actually built a space ship in order to verify its existence and he couldn't really refuse her could he? At least the location was far from danger, the neutral zone of one of the galaxies. In the end both him and Kakarot was forced to come.
The look of surprise between Chi Chi and Bulma when they reached their destination was …interesting. It was as if he had lied.
"You said there was a flea market here?!" Chi Chi incredulously protested.
"Yes, and they are selling fleas are they not?" he replied impatiently. What did they expect when he said flea market?
Behind him Kakarot was laughing his ass off and Bulma face-palmed.
Injured
There was a large gash on her palm, courtesy of a malfunctioning drill and her carelessness. Bulma sighed. She went over to the sink to wash it up and hastily covered them with paper towel. The job of refitting the Namek ship and their machinery into a commercial jet plane hadn't been the easiest thing. But she has to admit the technology was superior and it would actually help corner the market on propulsion engines and long distance flight. Her father was so excited. They were currently doing a prototype to be shown for the company meeting next week.
When she was done, she slid open the lab door to go to the kitchen to get a proper first aid kit. Immediately, her injured hand was yanked.
"What's this?" a gruff voice demanded.
"It's nothing, Vegeta, just a minor injury."
He looked at her, shook his head, and muttered a few curse words before he started dragging her to the infirmary.
"Sweetie, it's not that big of a deal, really." Bulma said, reassuring him.
He continued dragging her until they reached the infirmary. Once there, he deftly pulled up the cotton swabs, alcohol and bandages. He swiftly dabbed the alcohol in her palms, making her unable to feel the stinging pain. He masterfully cut the bandages and wrapped them around her palm, softly, carefully.
"You should be careful," his voice slightly quivering. There was a hint of panic in it.
She nodded, smiling.
"I'll tell mom to make steak for dinner," she said, hopping down from the infirmary bed and walking towards the door.
"Do what you like," he replied, following behind her acting as if he didn't care.
Bulma didn't miss his hand lingering on her waist before they separate.
Birthday
He yanked the pile of books from Bulma's arms easily. She almost lost her balance in the process.
"Hey!" she protested.
He stacked them on the table and quickly sorted them. "What are you doing? Those books are for Bra's birthday!" Bulma continued on.
"Precisely," he answered cryptically.
Bulma quickly scanned the larger pile, farther away from where he was sitting. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Goldilocks and Three Bears, Rapunzel, Snow White, Little Matchstick Girl, Thumbelina, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast…
"Those are classic fairy tales Vegeta," she commented quizzically.
"Doesn't mean they're good."
Blinking, Bulma looked at the pile closest to her husband. Hansel and Gretel, Mulan, The Ballad of Tam Lin, and Brave?
"Didn't know you watched that movie," Bulma absentmindedly mentioned. She picked up the oversized hardcover book and flipped through them experimentally. The heroine was capable of archery, the art of sword fighting, and not at all a typical princess.
"It was amusing," he replied while still sorting through the book pile. "Trunks put it on while Baldy's kid was here. The bear business was a bit suspect though."
Bulma shrugged and picked up another book on her husband's approved pile. She flipped through Mulan.
"What about this?" she dangled the book in front of him.
"I don't see anything bad about trying to defend your family's honour and playing a crucial role in fighting an enemy, do you?"
"The Ballad of Tam Lin…what exactly is this?" She didn't even remember if the book was brought in or not.
"She fights for the man she loves. Whether he was worthy or not is questionable…but…"
He paused. Then his eyes took a steely resolve before he said, ""I'm not going to have my daughter emulating weak-minded females."
Bulma blinked. Then a small smile curled on her lips. "So, the fact that I read and loved all the books in your reject pile means I'm a weak minded female?"
"Why else are you with me, woman?" Vegeta sneered.
"I'm not weak-minded you ass. I'll have you know I was the one who-" she countered, slapping his shoulder playfully.
Suddenly he turned serious and looked at her. "You know that she won't be as strong as Trunks." He didn't continue but she knew instantly the unsaid words. It worries you. It worries you that she's a girl, and she could easily be taken advantage of because she is our daughter. At least Trunks can fight back, but you're not sure if she could even if she has the strength.
The book he's chosen…the heroines are girls who are put into extraordinary circumstances and managed to overcome their obstacles despite the odds. The fact that he's taken the time to actually research and pick the stories out to be read for Bra said more to her than anything.
Bulma kissed his ear.
"What was that for?"
"For being an ass," she said, cheekily smiling.
"You're one to talk," he said smirking, his canines brilliantly glinting. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment. There was a comforting spark, warm and loving. Bulma waved her arms, "Move over, I want to help you out here."
The Ballad of Tam Lin is a real story. So is Matilda and the lovely illustrations by Quentin Blake. Wiki it if you will.