Something to Fill the Hole
Summary- Post Buu oneshot, the Brief family is amazed to discover Vegeta's new attitude toward life in general. Bulma and Trunks begin to trust Vegeta as a husband and father.
A hole had always been there. Even in the beginning, during their first time, as they rode the waves of lust, Bulma felt the hole. It was something she'd been trying to fill ever since. After Cell, when he seemed to settle down and accept his place at Capsule Corporation, she'd been hopeful he'd finally close up the wound his lack of feeling created in her chest. It never came. True, he was bodily there, but the distance pulled at the hole. Eventually she became used to the hole, always there, a reminder of his lack of reciprocated feelings. She accepted it, embraced it, and sometimes cried over it. Vegeta would never give her or her son the love they gave to him. But, it was better than the alternative.
Then he died, and the hole turned from a slight aching tattoo to a massive black-hole, ready to swallow her up. Never again would she be able to touch his muscular arms, hear his raspy dark voice, or look into those coal eyes, even if it was all emotionally one-sided. Her soul was ready to explode from the stinging intensity. Even the husband at the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament, who carelessly swiped his hand to the side with a blast, killing a full section of the crowded bleachers, was better than the bitter gaping black-hole left from his absence. She made a decision not to wish him back because she couldn't be responsible for more people's deaths. If he hadn't died, though, she would have still unconditionally loved Vegeta the murder.
Now, here he was, breathing, fully healed by Dende. The sun beamed down upon him on the Lookout, casting his tanned skin with light. Still, there was something beyond that, a glow that came from within. Bulma unconsciously touched her breast and hardly felt the hole in that moment. Trunks tugged on Vegeta's left hand and the prince didn't even pull away. His son grinned up at Vegeta with idol-worship and Vegeta glanced down, the corners of his lips tugging upward in a legitimate smile. His eyes scanned over to Bulma and she felt like she might melt. He'd never looked at her that way- as if he were . . . happy.
Things were too good to be true. She'd been let down so many times, her hope crushed by rude comments, betrayals, refusals, and long departures. This time, her heart begged to finally heal, but her mind still clung to skepticism. She'd heard him call out to the people of Earth, sounding very sincere. He'd been brought back as a result of a wish worded for only the pure-hearted to return. This should have stitched the wound shut, but hesitancy remained. Too many times. . . so many times of disappointment, of unreturned affection. And even pure-hearted beings were capable of nonreciprocal regard.
The trip back to Capsule Corp was spent in silence. Trunks fell asleep with his head against the plane's window. Vegeta slumped in the seat, exhausted, and deep in solitary contemplation. Bulma gripped the plane's yoke. The calm atmosphere made her nervous and even afraid. She was scared to reach out and have her hand slapped away yet again. She glanced back at Vegeta, his eyelids drooping, and she felt a pull to comfort him, hug him, and not let go for a very long time (if ever). A lone tear slid down her face and she wiped it away. Oh, Dende, give me a reason to trust this developing dream, she pleaded.
The family was greeted by an eager Mrs. And Dr. Brief. They took turns hugging their daughter and grandson. Dr. Brief offered a hand to Vegeta. The prince rolled his eyes but shook it without a scowl. Mrs. Brief offered to cook a meal and Trunks jumped up and down, demanding chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Bulma caught Vegeta's eyes lingering on his son, an expression of admiration in them. Was this real? Normally, Bulma would have forced herself at Vegeta, locking arms, but she kept her aloofness. She wasn't ready for the dream to end. She wasn't ready for him to act in that familiarly cold manner, shrugging her off him, and telling her to keep her "human sentimentalities to herself". If she stayed away, she could pretend that maybe things would be different now.
Mrs. Brief was very attentive to her son-in-law and gushed over his return. He crossed his arms in the usual way but did not snap orders at her and even seemed to listen attentively. When Mrs. Brief set a tall glass of lemonade in front of him, he thanked her. Bulma blinked in amazement.
"What?" Vegeta demanded, but not harshly.
Bulma shook her head. "Nothing."
He ate ceremoniously slow, as if savoring the food. Bulma watched, nibbling on her own garlic bread. They probably don't have food in hell, she sadly thought. Trunks chattered with his mouth full to his grandparents, telling them the exciting and perilous tale of Buu. Vegeta listened not interrupting even once.
Trunks met his father's eyes and grinned with teeth. "And then Dad came back along with all the other not evil people," he declared with pride.
"I'm so glad," Mrs. Brief said. "We would have missed you, Vegeta, dear."
"Yes, well said, my darling," Dr. Brief said, agreeing with his wife.
Vegeta grunted and gave them a nod. He twirled his fork around the spaghetti. Dinner conversation continued, turning to more mundane issues, such as the West City Scientist Conference next month. Bulma only ate half her dinner and stored the rest. She stated that she was tired and retired for the night. She combed her short blue hair and brushed her teeth. Then, she undressed, only wearing her expensive matching silk bra and panties, and slipped under the covers. She really wasn't that sleepy but her mind couldn't concentrate on anything. She shut the bedside lamp off and stared into the dim room, the sunset peeking from behind the drawn curtains. She felt the cold mattress beside her, waiting.
Vegeta eventually entered. She heard the rustle of him pulling off the battle attire. He traveled around to the other side of the bed. He climbed in and instead of turning so she confronted his back, he faced her. He examined her shadowed features. His left hand came up and caressed the side of her wet eye, sliding softly down her cheek, and then ran through her hair. Vegeta had never taken the time to soak in her presence. Any sort of connection occurred through moans, cries, and smashing bodies together. When she'd made an attempt at sweet embraces or butterfly touches, he'd pushed her aside and pulled away.
"Vegeta . . .?"
"Shush, woman, not tonight."
So, they lay there for possibly hours, holding each other, taking it in, assuring themselves that they were in fact alive and real, together.
Bulma awoke to an empty bed. She panicked and sat up. She slipped on a robe and hurried downstairs. The scent of brewed coffee met her nostrils. She spotted the time on the microwave digital clock. It was only 6:30. Her parents didn't get up until at least 7. The coffee pot was full with brown liquid. She stared with wide eyes, realizing that Vegeta had made her coffee before going to train. She got down a black mug with the Capsule Corp logo on it, and poured herself a tall cup of black coffee. She sipped it, relaxed.
Suddenly, Trunks rushed down the hall, banging a door behind him. He'd been in the gravity room for his routine morning training session with his father. Bulma had been thinking about making some changes to the gravity room system for a while now, and reminded herself to get started on the project. Trunks bounded into the kitchen.
"Mom, you're up!" he greeted.
She yawned and smiled. "Yeah, I'm early today."
Excitedly, he exclaimed, "Dad says he'll take me to the park today after school. I didn't even have to land a punch!"
Bulma was about to bring the mug up for another swallow but halted. She brought the mug down, her hand shaking a bit. "That's great, Trunks."
"Dad's being super nice, don't you think, Mom?"
Too nice, she thought. Too nice to believe.
"Yes, he is," she agreed.
Trunks rummaged for a bowl of cereal. He ate almost an entire box of sweetened cereal and milk before leaving for school. She forced herself to eat some yogurt and a banana before getting ready for work. She took a shower and then dressed in a professional blouse and skirt. She put on a pair of elegant gold earrings and matching necklace to top off the outfit. Prepared, she left the bedroom, walking down the long winding hallway. She collided into something hard. Hands gripped her biceps and gently pushed her to the wall. The air in her lungs hitched.
"Vegeta," she gasped.
He was hot and sweaty from training, wearing loose jogging pants and a muscle shirt instead of his armor. Before, he would have trained most of the day, and she wouldn't have seen him until dinner. Her gaze ran over his arms and then up to his face. His eyes had a glint in them that was new. He drew near and lightly brushed his lips to hers. It wasn't deep or passionate, or hungry with tongues, but there was something beautiful in the simplicity. He pulled away, expression unreadable.
"Bulma . . . I'd like to talk with you when you get back," he said.
She nodded. "All right."
The latest project didn't advance much that day. Bulma couldn't help but imagine what Vegeta wanted to speak to her about. She suspected that it had to do with details behind Babidi's mind control and the battle with Buu. Yet again, she feared this peace would end, that the news would break the rose-colored glasses.
After work, Bulma searched for her husband. He wasn't in the gravity room or stuffing his face with a sandwich. Instead, she found him on the balcony reading a book that was surprisingly fiction. He'd put on a pair of black slacks and a blue long-sleeved shirt. He appeared almost relaxed, almost human if it wasn't for his flamed hair.
He raised his head and lowered the paperback, placing the pages down on the outdoor-friendly plastic table to keep his place. He scooted the deck chair out for her. "Have a seat, woman."
She took in a heavy breath and complied. Neither met gazes.
He leaned back and crossed his arms. "What do you know about Babidi and Majin Buu?"
"I know Babidi took control over you. That you killed those people at the tournament because of it."
Vegeta shook his head. "He didn't take control. I let him. I killed those people willingly, Bulma."
And there it was. The hammer that broke the glass holding her back from the truth. She flinched and pulled back. "You what!" she screeched.
He winced. "Good God, woman, just sit back and let me finish."
"No, Vegeta, you just told me that you voluntarily murdered hundreds of people."
"Yes, I did. And let me remind you that I killed thousands before that, in at least a dozen galaxies."
Bulma shut her eyes, not wanting to listen or admit the words. She already knew this, but hearing it outloud was painful. I'm married to a villain, a murderer, someone who gets his kicks by blood, she admitted to herself. How can I love someone like that? Something is wrong with me.
Vegeta's face softened. "Let me talk, woman."
She didn't speak. She couldn't.
"You have to understand how I got like this. I was born a prince. I was raised by my father, King Vegeta, to be the ruler and symbol of pride for all Saiyans. We were a warrior race, the mightiest of the mighty, conqueror of the conquerors. My father told me I was chosen to become a Super Saiyan, an elite, and that I needed to work hard to achieve this. When he was forced to turn me over to Frieza, and then died in a feeble attempt at getting me back, I saw that all that fancy talk of his wasn't enough. I needed to train and become stronger than anyone else in the universe. Only then would I become the legendary Super Saiyan and become worthy as Prince of All Saiyans."
Vegeta paused to check in. Bulma couldn't look directly at him. She patiently waited, wondering where he was going with this.
"When my planet was destroyed I became a remnant of a dying race. I was what remained, and an image of my lost people. When people looked upon me what would they see? I vowed that they'd see a True Saiyan, a warrior, worthy to be called prince- if only in name only. I would not allow people to look down upon the Saiyans and see them as the losers, the weak, the defeated. Besides, I had nothing else to strive for. Don't you get it, Bulma . . .?"
She shook her head, hurt in her eyes. "No, I don't. So, you vowed to get stronger. Okay. So what? What does that have to do with Babidi and Buu? You say that you had nothing else to strive for. But what about us, Vegeta, your family?"
Bulma abruptly stood. She ventured into the bedroom and to the dresser. She pulled out the top drawer and fumbled inside for her box of cigarettes and lighter. She was just about to flick the lighter to life when Vegeta's fingers snatched the cigarettes. He fazed to the balcony and tossed them over the edge.
"Hey! How dare you, you bastard!"
Vegeta glared. "It's a nasty habit and I won't allow you to continue it."
"What do you care!" she threw back. He growled, came over, and pulled her back to the chair to sit.
He growled. "Shut up woman and let me continue! When I met you I couldn't get close to you. I couldn't allow myself to make commitments because I felt that you were a distraction. That you made me weak and kept me from my training. I needed to get stronger and maintain my princely status. I had to defeat Kakarot to prove that I was the depiction of our race, not him, not some bumbling fool who could barely tie his shows. So, I pushed you away. After Cell, Kakarot died and I realized I couldn't have beaten him. I'd been surpassed not only by Kakarot but his brat as well. I came home and fell into mediocrity, became a husband and a father, only because I had nothing left to work for."
"When Kakarot returned, my dead Saiyan pride reawakened. This was my chance to prove myself at the tournament and reclaim my status as head of the Saiyans. The Supreme Kai interrupted us before I got the chance, and then Babidi made an offer. He'd reawaken my evil heart and give me the power to beat Kakarot and become the prince I should be. I accepted the offer. He never took control of my mind, and I had complete control the entire time. Drunk with power, I killed those tournament attendees and banished you and Trunks from my thoughts, becoming what I told myself was a True Saiyan Prince, who I was meant to be from birth."
Tears streamed down Bulma's face. She trembled slightly and she attempted to compose herself. He reached for her but she scooted the chair back. He frowned.
"I've trained and trained to win, to be the best, to surpass every other Saiyan and beat every other race. And, I've failed. There was always something standing in my way. I was never happy, and I had to keep working harder and harder. I always fell short. Majin Buu was my last attempt at success, to find that meaning I've always been striving for. That exasperating Kakarot knew I was fooling myself, perceptive for once. As I came to the decision to sacrifice myself to defeat Buu I suddenly understood it all clearly."
Vegeta stood up and came over to her side. He knelt and took her hands, looking into her eyes like a begging child.
"All this training to get stronger was hogwash, and had been for quite a while. I was living behind a lie. Bulma, you and the boy are the only things that matter to me. I may train and attempt to get stronger, but when it really gets down to it, I only want to protect you, the boy, and this inferior mudball I've come to call home. The truth is I'm very fond of my life here with both of you. I- I care about you."
Bulma bent her head and pressed her forehead against his. She silently cried and miraculously he held her in comfort. She understood his words. He was telling her that instead of these last two days being a deception, they were the real him, the one he hadn't even known existed beneath the layers of upbringing. She desperately hugged him back.
"Do you see why I threw those blasted cancer sticks over the balcony now? I'm going to take care of you from now on," he vowed.
They remained like that for a long while until the light faded in the sky. They shifted and their touches became less innocent. His fingers were light and feathery against her sensitive skin, roaming under her blouse and to her breasts. He kissed the side of her neck. Her hand came up to touch the back of his neck where his hairline began.
"Do you Earthling women have an expiration date?" he mumbled.
She stiffened. "What?"
"N-Nevermind," he said. The mood was slightly broken. He turned away, embarrassed.
"No, Vegeta, what do you mean?"
"I. . ." He blushed. "Look woman, just forget it."
"Vegeta! Were you asking me if I could still have children?" she demanded.
He walked into the bedroom as he talked, so she was met with his back. "I told you our family was the only thing that mattered to me, so . . . I was only thinking . . ."
An amazed smile came to Bulma's lips. She'd been on the birth control pill for years and figured she'd always be until her change because Vegeta had voiced that Trunks was a "bawling annoying brat" that was her "responsibility" and not his. The thought of having another baby, one out of love, filled her with so much hope for the future. Things really could mend themselves.
"Vegeta, hon, I'd love to have another baby with you," she told him.
He raised an eyebrow at her new nickname but didn't protest. Then he smirked and grabbed her to him, molding his aroused body to hers. "We should get on that then."
They were pulling at clothing when a loud and abrasive knock came at the door. Vegeta groaned. Bulma gave him an apologetic smile as she smoothed her shirt down. The door burst open and Trunks ran in. The eight-year-old boy leapt at Vegeta and held him around the lower waist.
"Dad!" Trunks shouted.
"Boy, what is it? What has you so worked up?" Vegeta questioned, just a tad irritated.
"I had a nightmare," Trunks said.
Vegeta rolled his eyes. Bulma smirked in amusement.
"Nightmares don't frighten Saiyans."
"B-But, Dad, this dream was different. You were dead again and Mom and I had to live without you forever." Trunks fought back a sob. "I know it's stupid, but I had to make sure you were here."
Vegeta awkwardly put a hand on his son's shoulder. He stared over to his wife, speaking to both of them. "I'm not going anywhere."
Bulma's heart fluttered. She touched her chest and realized that the hole had been replaced with nothing but warmth. She came forward to her family, and they formed a circle together. Vegeta couldn't take it for long and stepped back, not used to it.
It was a good start to a new beginning, Bulma decided.
AN- Just a little something I couldn't not write. Please take the poll on my page.