Disturbing Behavior

By: Sarah Slutz

Thanks Tryamerin for beta reading!

By the time Yamcha had parked his in front of Capsule Corp, his legs were already shaking. He hadn't seen Bulma in months and the last time he had seen her, she had told him very clearly and very loudly, as usual, that they were over. His yet again ex-girlfriend had informed him that she was tired of his fickleness, his frequent disappearances with Puar to go train without even letting her know, his absorbing baseball career and his constant flirting with other women.

He had been faithful to her -at least while they were actually together- and she knew it. Many others assumed that he was a cheater but he really didn't care what they thought. He only cared about Bulma. In any case, she was no angel either and he could say the same things about her. She was fickle, constantly flirted with other men, -including that bastard Saiya-jin she had living under her roof- and she was continually disappearing for days on end when she would get caught up in her work.

She said she wanted commitment but didn't act on her words. He hadn't proposed to her and wasn't planning on doing so any time soon. So what? In any case, Bulma would probably be bored to tears being married. They were two free spirits that had joined together for extended periods of time. Why did she need a ring and a stupid ceremony as proof that she was the one woman for him and he was the only man for her? Why did she need him to be there with her every second of every day if she could take care of herself just fine and they both maintained their own lives? Why would she get mad at him for going off and training without saying goodbye if she had done similar things countless times? She was full of contradictions and would always be. When he'd actually mentioned marriage right after they met that strange teenager from the future, she hadn't even replied. That after a huge fight they'd had weeks earlier about the fact he hadn't proposed yet.

He would never understand her.

However, he loved her very much but she couldn't be happy with his love. She always wanted more, much more… and even far more then that. Of course he had to disappear once in a while because she was too controlling, not to mention too demanding!

Yamcha looked around and realized he'd been sitting on the driver's seat staring into space for a while now. Sheepishly, he stepped out of his car and didn't even bother to lock the door. Feeling guilty as hell, the former desert bandit remembered that Bulma herself had given him this car as an anniversary gift a couple of years ago.

Shaking his head, he asked the conflicting voices in his mind to stop jabbering. Sometimes he wondered if all that fighting had rotted his brain. At least that was what Bulma would always say.

Taking a big breath, he strode forward to the entrance of the huge dome and a robot came scurrying towards him. Yamcha asked it to fetch Bulma.

Five minutes later, the robot returned, instructing him to come inside. It hadn't been able to contact Bulma, but its sensors had recognized him as someone who had been here before, and decided to let him in. A bit surprised, he walked into her huge mansion.

Why hasn't she come out by now? She usually did, either to greet me warmly or to scream at me to disappear, shrieking and mad as hell. Her not showing up at all is very unusual. What is going on? Walking on, he decided she probably was in the lab, working hard on her inventions and was too busy and absorbed to go outside.

Sighing, he knocked on the door of Bulma's lab, but no one came out.

Puzzled, Yamcha called out, and immediately a robot appeared at his side.

"Where's Bulma?" he asked.

"My sensors have just pinpointed her. Ms. Bulma Briefs is currently situated inside her personal quarters."

Yamcha rolled his eyes and asked, "Why can't you just say, 'Bulma's in her room?' "

"Pardon me, sir?"

"Never mind," he told it and then waved it away, smiling. Of course Bulma would program her robots to talk like 19th century butlers. His face fell immediately, as nervously decided he would just have to arrive at her room unannounced. Of course he knew where Bulma's room was... very well, actually, he thought guiltily yet again.

As Yamcha neared her room, he heard her singing, very loudly. The only reason he hadn't heard her before was because of how well insulated the walls were. Only the best for Princess Bulma, including the way her surroundings were constructed.

Knocking on the door, he waited outside politely. Not a sound was heard besides her off-key singing. Growing annoyed, he knocked again a bit louder and when nothing happened, he opened the door carefully. Bulma probably couldn't hear him anyhow.

There she was, lying face up on her extra large king size bed, a thin sheet barely covering her. Her skin-tight jeans were lying on the floor about a foot away from the right side of the bed and her little cropped blouse was draped on top of the headboard. Tangled along with the covers was her blue thong -he could see a bit of the fabric winking at him. She had her eyes closed, and her headphones were plastered to her ears. She wasn't singing anymore, but was quietly humming to the music.

What intrigued Yamcha the most about the scene -besides the fact that she was still in bed at 1 o'clock in the afternoon, her clothes strewn around her- was the look on her face. She looked like a woman who was satisfied, ecstatic and astonished, as if something unexpected but wonderful had just happened to her.

Yamcha felt as if he had just swallowed an ice cube. With a lump in his throat, he sat on the corner of the bed, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. She finally realized there was someone else in the room, he could tell, because she turned towards him slightly. The sheets slipped a bit off her shoulders.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were training," she whispered, grinning.

Slowly, seductively, her eyes began opening. The minute she realized it was him, her eyes snapped wide open and she stared at him as if he were a ghost, almost spooked.

"Oh, what are you going here Yamcha?" Bulma asked him, squeaking. Quickly grabbing the wrinkled blanket, she covered herself up to her neck and then practically tore off the headphones from her ears.

In spite of himself, he smirked at her. "What are you covering that I haven't already seen, babe?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Color bloomed in her cheeks, quickly flooding her face. Yamcha stared at her in astonishment. He hadn't seen her blush so furiously for years! In fact, the only time he remembered her blushing that bad was right after the first time they...

He gaped at her, not even knowing what to think, do or say.

"I asked you a question, what are you doing here?" Bulma snapped, but not as sharply as usual.

"I came to ah... eh..." somehow, the words got stuck in his throat. She was staring at him accusingly.

"We broke up Yamcha, you shouldn't be here! You left, I haven't seen you in months. What did you expect, that you could just waltz in here unannounced like nothing and I would welcome you with open arms?" she snapped at him, her face now flushed in anger.

Yamcha stared at Bulma. He couldn't believe how cold she was acting. Why was she behaving like that? Obviously, something was going on that he had no prior knowledge of. Even though he was no genius like her he could add: two plus two equaled four. Bulma hadn't been alone last night, and judging by the clothes lying around--

"Who were you waiting for, Bulma? Why did you say 'I thought you were training?'" he spat angrily.

Bulma retorted, "What are you talking about? You're crazy."

"I am not crazy. Explain this," he said, pointing at the mess and then at her just lying there wrapped in that provocatively positioned sheet. He even dared to grab her tiny blue thong, dangling it from his fingers.

"If you must know..." she yelled back, giving the clock on the wall a quick peek. "...It is time for lunch, and I was sure Vegita was going to come in and bother me to cook. There, are you satisfied?" she asked, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.

Yamcha narrowed his eyes. She was a good liar, but not as good as she thought. He knew her quite well... had known her for years, fifteen of them in fact.

"Stop lying to me Bulma. Your robots could cook for him. I don't believe you. Someone else was here tonight, I know it," he accused her.

"Even if that were so," she speculated, shrugging, "what is it to you? We're not together anymore."

"That's what you decided, being controlling as always!" he blurted out, immediately regretting it.

He could see the anger sparkling in her eyes, the fire ready to flash out. Yet just as suddenly as it appeared, it went, "poof".

"You know what, Yamcha? I could lie here and scream and rave as I usually do. In two or three days we would be together again until you repeated your antics. It's always the same... Every. Single. Time. How long have we been playing this game? Right now, I don't even care at all. You go ahead and do whatever you want. I am no longer interested in the little crumbs of affection you are willing to toss at me while in your breaks from your training or your baseball career. Go ahead, leave now and don't you dare try to show your face around here again."

He gaped at her. Swallowing, with an effort, then closed his mouth.

"You can't be serious," he stated, not as sure of himself as he sounded. "You need me and I need you. It's always been that way. I don't care what happened last night, just as long as we are together."

She laughed lightly and stood up, keeping the sheet wrapped around her beautiful body. A white glove was laying on the blue silk sheet, evidence of the culprit.

His eyes widened in recognition. Although he had suspected something fishy was going on, the way they always fought and insulted each other had driven away his suspicions. Yamcha should have known that son of a dog had something in mind when he moved in. And he had gotten it, alright.

"How could you!" he exclaimed. "Vegita!!!??? He is a monster, a killer! This is insane! This is stupid! I thought you were smarter than that. I mean, if it had been any other man... but him...?"

Bulma sprang up from the bed and almost jumped on top of him to clap a hand over his mouth.

"Shut your stupid mouth," she declared. "I don't care about what you think or say, but I don't want anyone else finding out about this any time soon. This is between Vegita and I. It doesn't concern you because you are officially out of my life. And I want to keep my personal life private, so don't go babbling on, or else. Do you understand? Besides, Vegita is NOT a monster. He is training to save us all and there is more to him than you think, okay?"

His face fell. Yamcha should have been angry, should have been furious, but instead he was just deeply disappointed.

"Oh, stop it, Yamcha, don't act like a victim. Our relationship has been over for a long time, even before I actually expressed it. I'm sorry if you don't like that or my current choice of lover. Get out, and please don't come back... For your own good," she added, her expression solemn.

He swallowed hard, praying Vegita didn't know he was in the house. Desolately he nodded and walked away from her room. Turning back at the threshold, he looked at her again and she shook her head.

"It is best this way. This wasn't going anywhere. It was bound to happen sooner or later. We both know that."

"I know, but him?" Yamcha demanded.

"Hush. Just leave now," was her answer.

"Just know... I will always be there for you, when you need me," he told her, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. Bulma's eyes softened too for a second and then she shook her head.

"I know... just leave for now, please... perhaps later we could… but not right now."

He did so, his legs heavy like lead, his heart hammering in his chest with regret and heartbreak. Bulma had been the first girl he had ever loved, and now she was out of his life. And it was his own doing.

Yamcha had been looking down morosely. So distracted was he, that he didn't even see the obstacle in his way and bumped into something hard. He stepped back and instantly realized the obstacle he had crashed against was Vegeta. He swallowed hard, his heart beating so fast he was afraid it was about to flee his body.

"Erm..." he stammered uselessly.

"Baka human, get out of here, just like the onna told you to," Vegita growled, with a dangerous smirk on his thrice-damned face.

"Don't you dare hurt her," he spat out furiously.

"If I had wanted to do that, you imbecile, I would have already done it the minute I moved into this pathetic dwelling," Vegita enunciated carefully, insulting him with his eyes.

Yamcha stared at the shorter man, astonished. If he understood Vegita's bizarre sarcastic dialect correctly, the Saiya-jin Prince had just said he had no intention of hurting her.

Maybe they were suited to each other, Yamcha thought bitterly. Both of them were certainly loud, stubborn and egotistical.

"Fine. I'll go. Have a nice life," he grumbled, his fists clenching in despair.

In response, Vegita just smirked and crossed his arms.

Yamcha walked away sadly, the realization that he had just lost his first love irrevocably etched deep into his mind.

The End