A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.
"You, my little prince, are nothing but a worthless monkey," Frieza said, leaning against the wall of the gravity machine with one leg crossed in front of the other. He held a crystal goblet in his hand, filled with a red liquid that he swirled in a slow circle. "You'll never attain the legendary."
Vegeta grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached, but continued his press-ups in two hundred times Earth's gravity. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, and he blinked it away. "Two hundred and fifty four," he said defiantly, drowning out the lizard's chuckle. "Two hundred and fifty five."
"Ah, my boy. You forget that I practically raised you. I know everything about you and I guarantee that you just don't have it in you." He took a long, noisy slurp from his glass then licked his lips. "Your daddy lied, I'm sad to say. That kind of power wasn't meant for someone like you. you're simply too…" He cocked his head as he looked Vegeta up and down. "Weak."
Vegeta growled in response and dragged himself to his feet. Frieza let out a bellowing laugh as Vegeta shut off the gravity machine. "See," the lizard said with a nod. "You can't even make it to three hundred press ups. Pathetic."
Vegeta threw the monster a withering look, then stomped out of the machine and slammed the door.
Of course, doors didn't stop ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever the thing haunting the Saiyan was, and Frieza walked through the wall and trotted alongside Vegeta as he made his way across the garden and around the side of a dome-shaped building.
"Where are we going?" Frieza inquired. "Are we visiting your little girlfriend? How delightful. I love seeing her and imagining all the ways I'll torture her in front of you when I get my body back." He nudged Vegeta's arm with his elbow, which did nothing at all given his current incorporeal state. "I will enjoy ripping her beautiful body to pieces and consuming it." He hummed contemplatively. "She'd make a lovely stew I think. Or perhaps a roast." He smacked his lips together sloppily.
Vegeta grimaced at the notion, and kept up a quick march. He opened the door to the woman's lab and strode in, letting the door bang shut behind him.
Bulma didn't flinch, not even glancing up from the intricate electrical board she was currently soldering something onto. "You have impeccable timing," she said, squinting at her work. "I fixed the bots for you a few minutes ago. They are in the corner."
Vegeta stood in front of her desk, crossing his arms and glaring at her. When she finally looked up and removed her googles to reveal the red lines they'd carved into her face, she scowled right back.
"Haven't you heard of wearing clothes?" Bulma yanked the soldiering iron's plug out of the socket then tossed the tool the desk in front of her. "I'm mad at you. Stop walking around like dessert on a serving tray. We are not having sex in my lab no matter how fuckable you look."
Vegeta frowned harder, hoping to hide the blush he knew was creeping up from his neck to his face. "I am only here for the bots."
Both Frieza and Bulma laughed at that.
"Whatever you say, big guy," Bulma replied, standing up and stretching her arms over her head, giving Vegeta a tantalising glance of the smooth plane of her stomach as he t-shirt rode up. "Bots are there. Get them and leave me to my work."
"She wouldn't ever fuck you again if she knew how weak you really were," Frieza commented casually, sipping on his never-empty glass. "She'd laugh you right out of her home."
Vegeta bristled, and remained standing in front of the desk.
"Was there something else?" Bulma asked, her frown shifting to concern. "Don't tell me you've broken the gravity room again."
"It is intact." Vegeta hesitated a moment before revealing the real reason he'd visited. "Earth has compositions of the melodic variety, yes?"
Bulma's eyebrows shot up. "You mean… music?"
Vegeta gave her a sharp nod.
"Yes… but you don't strike me as a music enthusiast."
"I am not. But I would like music in the gravity room regardless."
Bulma's sharp eyes fixed on him. "That won't be difficult. Probably your least complicated demand in fact. What kind of music?"
Vegeta allowed a smile to creep onto his face. "I do not care as long as long as it is something loud."
Several hours later, Vegeta was back in the gravity room with a surly Frieza stomping around in circles. Vegeta powered up and charged at the bots in time to the sounds of something that Bulma called "heavy metal".
"You can't drown me out!" Frieza screamed in his ear as Vegeta moved past him, springing off the wall to attack a bot. "You can't get rid of me that easily!"
Vegeta grinned in response, firing a ki blast through Frieza's semi-translucent form that ricocheted off the metal wall and into another bot.
With two bots down, Vegeta strolled over to the console and turned up the volume even more, until he could no longer hear the irritating voice over the thud of drums and screeches of guitars. Now he could finally - finally! - concentrate on his training.
Vegeta was in an unusually good mood, Bulma noted as she chewed the piece of soy and lemongrass chicken in her mouth. His plate was piled high, which was normal for him, but his shoulders were relaxed and he seemed to take his time with each bite instead of shovelling it down and disappearing to avoid conversation. There was even the ghost of a smile on his face.
It was hard to remain annoyed at him when he looked so damn delectable with his stupid tight white t-shirt and even tighter training shorts that she knew he wore around her on purpose. That smile wasn't helping, softening his sharp features and making him look almost cute. Ugh.
Bulma picked up her water and narrowed her eyes over the glass at him. Vegeta had two settings as far as she could tell. Angry and horny. She'd experienced the former plenty, and the latter on one occasion. This was... different. Contented was not a word she'd ever thought she'd use to describe her houseguest, yet that was exactly what he seemed.
"Was the music good?" she asked. "Did it help your training?"
Vegeta looked up and the smile fell from his mouth as if he was trying to hide it, but the crinkle in his eyes gave it away. "It did what was required."
Bulma took in a sharp breath, wondering if that meant… "Did you…?"
The glint in Vegeta's eyes faded at that and he shook his head. "No transformation." He seemed to hesitate, poking at his food before looking back at her. "But I… I finally feel like it might be possible," he admitted softly.
Bulma's eyes widened. Vegeta always appeared to be filled with an unshakable confidence, so it had honestly never occurred to her that he might have doubts about becoming a Super Saiyan. The admission was oddly humanising.
"Well…" Bulma hummed softly, any remaining resentment about him kicking her out of his room the moment they'd 'done the deed' last week disappearing. "In that case we should celebrate."
"A soldier never celebrates a victory before it is won," Vegeta replied, beginning his methodical consumption of chicken once more.
Bulma rolled her eyes. The man really needed to learn to lighten up. "Surely there must be some exceptions to that." She leaned forward and placed a hand on his firm forearm, winking suggestively.
Vegeta paused with his mouth half open, a piece of chicken hovering on chopsticks. After a moment, he ate the piece then set his utensils down, raking his gaze over her. "Some exceptions might be…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "…acceptable."
The woman lay on her side, curled against him with her chest rising and falling softly. Her hair formed a blue halo on the pillow, the ends of her locks tickling his arm.
Vegeta struggled to keep his eyes open, a heavy weariness weighing him down. He knew he should tell the woman to leave but she had barely talked to him all week after he did that a few minutes after their first coupling. He didn't mind her snubbing that much, but after having one taste of her and determining that it was something he wouldn't refuse in the future, he couldn't deny that the lack of physical pleasure since had disappointing.
But how was he supposed to know that asking the woman to leave his room after sex would invoke her wrath? It wasn't as if he had much experience with women, and besides, Frieza had appeared almost as soon as they'd finished and his taunting had been too much to deal with while Bulma was in the room.
Thank the gods that Frieza hadn't returned since the music incident. Vegeta had been half afraid he'd show up mid-coitus. But even without the tyrant's presence, at the very least he should leave and sleep elsewhere. The gravity room perhaps. Anywhere but near the only person in the universe who gave a damn about him, even if it meant angering her once more.
The monster who had enslaved him as a child might be dead, but Frieza still stalked almost every one of Vegeta's moves during the day, and his nightmares whenever he managed to fall into a restless slumber. Frieza had gone who-knows-where for now, but Vegeta knew it would be long before he came back. Whether Frieza was really haunting him or was just a figment of his imagination he knew he wouldn't get rid of the devil that easily.
It was ironic, Vegeta thought wryly as he stared up at the while plaster ceiling, fighting against sleep. For the first time in his life, he was truly free, no longer a slave and able to do anything he chose, and yet the only thing he'd managed to set his mind on was train to be stronger.
He told himself that it was to be better than that third class clown Kakarot, and that was true. No one got one up on the Prince of Saiyans and lived to tell the tale. But a deeper part of him knew that it wasn't the whole truth. No, Vegeta trained himself to the brink of death to get stronger, not just to beat Kakarot, and not for the mythical androids, but in case Frieza returned from hell, not as an apparition but in the flesh.
He shuddered at the idea, recalling the childish terror he'd felt when the lizard had landed on Earth. His knees had trembled and he'd barely been able remain standing while that purple-haired brat sliced and diced Frieza like he was a piece of fruit.
If he hadn't been shit-scared, Vegeta would have found it an amusing display. Well, also except for the fact that once again he'd been outclassed by another Saiyan. Some plebeian half-breed, no doubt.
Vegeta made an attempt to extract his arm from the woman, but she shifted in her sleep, mumbling something indecipherable about strawberries as she threw her arm across his stomach and held on tight.
With a huff, Vegeta went back to staring at the ceiling, jerking open his closing eyes every few minutes.
Don't fall asleep, he warned himself. Don't… fall…
The boy crept down a narrow corridor, florescent lights flickering with an electric crackle. The air was frigid - he could see his breath making clouds before him - and he wrapped his tail around his waist tighter, shivering as his bare feet slapped on the cold tiles.
Vegeta knew he was on Frieza's ship, and while he'd been living on it for the last two years - ever since he'd been taken from his father - he didn't recognise this hallway, or understand how he'd got here.
An open door at the end of the passage beckoned him, and while he knew that it would be warm through it, something inside screamed at him to turn around, to find a place to hide. Escape, every fibre of his being screamed.
But his body moved almost by itself and he continued down the corridor, chest tightening with each step. As he continued his tentative steps, the lights began to blow out, shattering glass behind him and urging him on faster. He followed the lights above like a trail of breadcrumbs, focussed on the open door and the temporary safety it might bring.
When finally reached it, he stepped into a dimly lit room, his feet sinking into plush carpet. Dark wood furnishings were arranged around a crackling open fire in the centre of the room, and Vegeta almost tripped over himself in his eagerness go get to it and warm the tips of his frigid blue fingers.
He sighed in delight as he let the warmth seep over him and leaned so close to the fire that his scalp began to itch. It should have been impossible, a fire in the middle of a spaceship, but it felt so good that Vegeta found himself unable to concern himself with probability.
"Little monkey." A nasal voice came from a darkened corner of the room, making Vegeta jump. "Who invited you in?"
Vegeta shrank back away from the fire, backing up until he hit the wall behind him. To his horror, Lord Frieza came into the light, matching each of Vegeta's steps with one of his own until the lizard stood in the middle of the fire, flames licking at his skin. Frieza was unaffected by the blaze and curled his mouth into a smile. "Well, boy?"
"N…no one…" Vegeta managed to gasp out. "The… the door was open."
"Are you lying to me, boy?" Frieza asked with a low snarl. "Would you like me to tell you what I did to the last boy who lied?"
Vegeta shook his head, blinking back the heat pricking at his eyes. He'd seen enough on this ship already to know that one never lied to Frieza if they wanted to keep their head attached to their body.
"I was lost," the boy tried to explain. "And cold, and this room was open and I… I…"
"I… I…" Frieza repeated mockingly. "Stupid monkey, you haven't even learned my ship's language yet." He stepped to the side, out of the flames, showing no signs of burns. "But never mind, come closer." He crooked a finger at Vegeta. "Come now, you are like a son to me, dear boy. There is no need to be afraid."
Somehow the words made him feel more fear than he had before, but Vegeta stepped forward on his trembling legs.
"Warm yourself up," Frieza instructed as Vegeta neared the fire.
The Saiyan stretched out his hands once more to warm them, keeping watch on Frieza out of the corner of his eye. Even so, he didn't see the lizard move.
One moment Vegeta stood next to the fire, the next he was being dangled by his tail above it. Frieza cackled, bouncing Vegeta up and down like bait on a hook. The flames nipped at Vegeta's skin with each downwards movement, burning holes in his clothes and pinking his flesh.
Vegeta cried out and tried to kick at the arm gripping him.
"Do you want me to let go?" Frieza asked, lowering him further. "I have so wanted to cook you. With a side of salad, you'll make a delicious meal."
"No!" Vegeta cried out in his native language, but the monster only brought him closer to the flames.
He began to cough, his throat closing from the smoke, and unable to speak, Vegeta kicked out again. He connected with the arm this time, but found himself falling directly into the fire pit. Instinctively, he raised his ki higher for protection, exploding it around him in a violet burst…
The bed underneath Bulma rocked and she opened her eyes blearily, half expecting an earthquake to be the cause. When it moved again, jerking her to the side, she realised it wasn't the bed at all, but the warm body she'd been lying on.
Rolling off him completely, she sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. The light didn't awaken the Saiyan and Bulma watched Vegeta's eyes flicker under his lids. His face had contorted into an expression she'd seen only once, when the gravity machine exploded and his protests fell away to the obvious pain he was in. His breaths came in short bursts and a sheen of sweat lined his forehead.
He was obviously having a nightmare, but Bulma was unsure what effect waking him would have. He wouldn't want her to see him like this, she knew that much. Then he cried out in an alien language - a cross between a yell and a whimper.
She couldn't let him go through this. Bulma reached out and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "Vegeta," she whispered. "Wake up."
His hands twitched in response, balling into fists. Then his entire body began to glow, pulsing with purple light that made the room heat up by a few degrees. Bulma scrambled back, moving away from the bed, but Vegeta's eyes snapped open and with a feral cry he lunged at her.