AN: I apologize for anyone who is following me and has already read this story, but I am having to repost it.
I originally published this last year, but due to excessive spam reviews and hostile comments, I chose to take the story down. The reviews were not simply criticism, but a series of hate speech and violent drabble that would go as far as to threaten my life. I understand that it was just trolling, but it still wasn't pleasant to see every time I got a review for this story. I was receiving no help from this website at all when I would report the reviews, had no way in controlling the situation, and I simply got tired of seeing it. I assume that the story was just tagged by spam bots, but if it starts to happen again I might have to remove this one for good.
I hope it won't come to that point again, but only time will tell. In case of that happening, I wanted to let you know that all of my complete works can easily be found on AO3, under the same penname. After my experience with all of the harassment I've received on fanfiction net, I actually prefer AO3 these days. Remember to keep an eye out for me on there. ;)
To any new reader, this is the first story in a trilogy. The order of the stories is as follows:
1) Anyone But Him
2) The 3 Year Gap
3) The 7 Year Gap
I hope you enjoy, and please be respectful in the comments. Fanfiction net should be a community in which writers and readers feel safe. There is absolutely no need to make things personal. Let's keep this website safe.
"I told you already! I paid it, but they're charging me a late fee!"
Vegeta could hear it from the ship. Aggravated, he turned and spat down on the tile. They were at it again. The woman and that ferret known as Yamcha, upstairs in the house, arguing like two overgrown children. It was so ridiculous that the saiyan felt pathetic even acknowledging it, yet it was too obnoxious for him to ignore.
They were always arguing.
Was it that the Woman was some type of masochist? She referred to Yamcha as her boyfriend, an Earth word that seemed to be synonymous with the Saiyan term "mate". Yet at every waking moment she was either ranting to him – or ranting about him. If he didn't know better, Vegeta would have thought that she detested the salamander. And this was something he could certainly agree with doing – Yamcha was the type of scum that would be quite fun to rip apart, limb-from-limb. If Bulma were to declare that she hated the bastard with every fiber of her being, then Vegeta would have found the scene too amusing to take. But the fact was that she evidently didn't hate the fool. If the Woman disliked Yamcha so much, then why was she always in his company? Vegeta wasn't sure what the deal was between those two, but he'd be damned if he cared enough to get caught up in it. Yet here he was, standing in his ship, and growing increasingly irritated by the fight that was erupting in that house. Those two seemed to do nothing but distract the Saiyan from his own training!
'Nevermind them.' He thought as he bit his lip. Oh, how he hated that he was having to spend his time in the place. It'd been three long months that he'd been staying with the Bluehead, using each day to push his muscles to their limits and attempt to understand how exactly he could ascend to the level that Kakarot had already managed. He needed to become a Super Saiyan, and he needed it now. He probably would have already achieved such a thing, too, if it wasn't for the never-ending distractions that the Briefs residence held. If only he could just disappear into the depths of space – to train alone and focus completely on strengthening his abilities.
It wouldn't do to leave, though. Where would the fallen Saiyan prince go? There was not a place he could think of where he could reside – at least, not a place where he could also have a couple of knowledgeable scientists waiting on him hand and foot. The fact of the matter was that the Bluehead and her father were of use to Vegeta. That wretched Gravity Machine that they'd designed was genius, and it worked so damned well, too!
And the blonde woman – the one that Bluehead referred to as "mom". She was absolutely mental, yet she seemed to understand her duty of keeping the Saiyan Prince's stomach full. At any moment he could walk into that kitchen and find her standing over the stove, putting together some type of delicacy that would be sure to leave him satiated. He hated the way that blonde bimbo cooed over him, but it was easy to overlook when she performed her job as the household chef so well.
In theory, his current situation was as good as it could get. But there was only one setback – one which seemed to ruin everything that was beneficial about staying on this hellhole known as Earth.
It was that filthy, pathetic, frail little dirtball known as Yamcha. The peasant was always in the Woman's bedroom, complaining to her about one thing or another. If he would just leave for once and for all, then surely these Earthlings would have a substantially greater amount of time to dedicate to perfectly training machines! And at this very moment Yamcha was up in the Woman's room, taking up all of her time with his incessant whining.
'He's using up all her time again.' It was with this thought that Vegeta lost what little patience he had. She should be designing the latest product to kick his ass! "Damn it all!" He turned angrily, opening his palm and allow a blast of light to shoot out at an unsuspecting battle bot. The damned thing hadn't even been switched on, so it didn't stand a chance to defend itself against the angered Saiyan's wrath. With a loud pop the bot exploded, black steam rising from a pile of ashed machinery.
..
"I'm tired of lending you money, when will you learn how to take care of yourself?!" Bulma was sitting at the desk in her room, glowering up at her boyfriend. Yamcha stood above her, his hands balled into fists, an indignant look on his face.
"I get paid next week, B!" The Z-Fighter glared. "I already told you, it's not my fault my landlord decided to up the bill!"
"That's what you said last month!" Bulma hissed. Why was this such a common fight of theirs? Yamcha was always coming to her, asking to be bailed out of one financial crisis or another. Just because she was the heir to a billion-dollar monopoly didn't mean that she wanted to be passing out money left-and-right to a man who was supposed to be capable of supporting himself. It was so hard to be attracted to someone that seemed to always be asking for help, and was always looking for a way to deflect blame. She was the girlfriend, wasn't she? Should she be the one depending on him? "You know what, Yamcha? Perhaps if you just took responsibility of your own actions for once, you'd learn how to handle your bills more efficiently!"
"Hey!" Yamcha replied. "What kind of chump do you take me for?! I already told you that it wasn't my fault, I figured you of all people would understand me!"
Great. Bulma closed her eyes. Here came the guilt tripping. Always with that guilt tripping. She placed her arm on the desk, allowing her forehead to sink into her palm with an exhausted sigh. Kame, she didn't have time for this. The deadline to an important project was coming up, and instead of being able to finalize those plans she was having to argue with Yamcha over a few measly hundred dollars.
She was about to turn back at her boyfriend to respond, but in the moment her bedroom door flew open. She raised her eyebrows curiously, but Yamcha was the one who was startled enough to jump back and let out a shrill scream.
"You sound like a girl!" Vegeta barked, pointing a threatening finger at Yamcha.
The Z-Fighter immediately fell into a fighting pose. "You take that back, man!" He absolutely hated Vegeta. He resented that man, and everytime he was reminded that Bulma was actively supporting that asshole it sent him into a blind rage.
"Enough with you." Vegeta waved a hand at Yamcha dismissively. He turned, crossing the room towards Bulma. In his arms he was carrying the remains of the destroyed battle bot. "Fix this for me, Woman." He said, dropping the debris on her desk.
"Oh, jeez." Bulma looked at the rubble, prodding it with a reluctant finger. "What did you do?"
"Nevermind that." The Saiyan spat, turning to remove himself from the room. The air was filled with the odor of Yamcha's sweat, and it was making Vegeta feel more nauseous by the second. He shot a glare at the Z-Fighter, electricity sparking from his eyes. "You'd better be going now. The Woman has work to do."
Yamcha, incensed, let his mouth drop open.
"Don't just stand there with that dumb look on your face! Get out of here!"
Yamcha turned to Bulma for help, with a look on his face that said 'You tell him, B. This is your house, isn't it?'
Bulma shrugged, turning back to the broken robot on her desk. She still had that pressing deadline to tend to, but the idea of reconstructing this bot was exciting to her scientific mind. "You heard him, didn't you? We'll have to finish our conversation later."
"Bulma!" Yamcha snapped, his hands balling into fists. "You're not seriously gonna take his side, are you?!"
She rolled her eyes, slapping her hands down on her desk. "I'm not taking anybody's side, but Vegeta's right! I've got work to do!" She stood then, placing her hands on her hips. She turned to see what Vegeta's reaction was, and she found that she was oddly disappointed to see he was already gone.
Damn…Vegeta had already removed himself from the scene…
"You always take his side, any time – any day!" Yamcha was howling. Bulma ran a hand through her hair, feeling as the anger took over. The Z-Fighter had such a good way of pushing her to the limit, and he'd done it. She was pissed.
.
Vegeta could hear the two screaming at each other as he stepped out of the house and into the backyard. He was heading back for the ship, a smirk spread across his face. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes before Yamcha went racing for his car. He didn't care to know what they were saying – but what he did know was that the Bluehead always had a way of winning all of their fights. Finally, he thought. There would be some peace a quiet around this hellhole, once again. At least, there would be enough silence for him to be able to train without distractions. The Briefs residence was never exactly peaceful. And sure enough, by the time Vegeta made it to the other end of the yard he could hear the little fool racing for his car and yelling under his breath. Something about an asshole, Vegeta was sure that Yamcha was referring to the Saiyan Prince himself.
He stepped into the ship, clicking on the gravity machine and dropping into a pose. Vegeta began to power up, feeling as adrenaline and testosterone coursed through his veins. He'd found a way to put an abrupt end to the Woman and Yamcha's arguing, and it was enough to make him feel smug. Silence was now fallen over the Briefs residence, and Vegeta could now clear his mind and focus only on perfecting his moves.
.
"Here you go," Bulma stood, looking tired and groggy, holding out a shiny battle bot. It was the next morning, and it almost appeared as if she'd stayed up the entire night finishing the task.
"Took you long enough," Vegeta grunted. He grabbed at the bot, snatching it from the woman's clutches and holding it up into the air so he could examine it closely. "This one looks different. What did you do to it?"
"The last one was too messed up – I ended up having to just make a new one." Bulma felt her cheeks filling with air, offended by Vegeta's conduct. "Oh, and you're welcome, by the way. This is the 'Thanks' you give me after I spent so much time doing you a favor?"
The Saiyan clicked on the battle bot and dropped it, allowing the robot to hover in the air beside him. He then crossed his arms over his chest, shooting a threatening scowl at the woman in front of him. "I thank you by allowing you to live, and don't you forget that."
"Right." Bulma replied sarcastically. "Excuse me. I guess I figured I would be dead by now if you actually had any intention of acting on your words. How many times have you told me you could kill me, again?"
This was something that the Woman did often. She was never really shy of giving him mouth, was she? Vegeta studied her features, his arms still crossed over his chest. It was ironic, to say the least. The first time he'd seen her had been on Namek. They'd locked eyes on that planet, and she'd been so timid that she'd been shaking violently with fear. The way she'd been cowering, and still there was an aura about her that Vegeta found enticing. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was, but there was something about her. She was certainly different, even back then he could tell. Even back on Namek, something about the Bluehead intrigued him enough that he spared her life. Perhaps this was it now. That aura he'd felt back on Namek, perhaps it was her hot-head - unafraid to argue with him despite the undeniable strength he had over her. Even at this moment she was shooting him a fiery look with her hands clapped on her hips, and it was more than refreshing to be challenged by such a weakling.
"Well?" Bulma was growling now. "Say it, then! Let's hear it!"
"Are you insane, Woman?" Vegeta grunted finally. "I already told you that you'll live to see another day. Now get away from me before I lose my patience and change my mind!"
Bulma welled her little fingers into fists. She let out a soft screech at the back of her throat, but she turned and walked away regardless. She left Vegeta alone in the ship, the new training bot hovering by his side. Vegeta watched her as she went, a smirk crossing over his face once again. She was so laughably weak, and it was amusing for such an irrelevant ki to attempt to act so large.
Nevermind that, he thought, turning to the bot. It was time to test that new machinery out!
.
…Unfortunately for Vegeta, he only made it another day with silent training before he heard it again.
The cockroach.
That oaf was back upstairs in the Woman's room, once again giving her unnecessary grief. It seemed as if Yamcha was desperate for attention! Couldn't he give his bitching a rest for longer than a few mere hours? He must surely like the sound of his own voice, he could never shut it up! Vegeta let out an exasperated groan and turned. Within a few moments his new training bot was now laying in a steaming heap of rubble, just as the first one had. And a few minutes later he'd delivered it to Bulma, once again successfully breaking up the argument she was having with Yamcha.
This time when he'd walked in them, though, he'd encountered the Bluehead crying. What in the hell could the Woman have to cry about with Yamcha? It was perplexing, and to his chagrin the thought invaded Vegeta's mind even as he returned back to his ship. The Woman had enough spine to stand up to the Saiyan prince himself – something that even Yamcha was terrified to do – yet such a useless man had been capable of reducing her to tears? It was pathetic! Did the Woman have no self respect at all?
Perhaps she really was a masochist, after all.
Vegeta forced the thoughts from his mind and continued with his workout, cranking the gravity machine up as much as he could manage. He did well, once again finding satisfaction now that Yamcha had removed himself from the Briefs residence.
What bothered the Saiyan was when the next day came and went, and Bulma still hadn't delivered the new robot. She was taking much longer this time around than normal, and it was unacceptable. It wouldn't do to have her working so inefficiently! So, with that thought, Vegeta stormed upstairs and into her room. He saw her when he walked in, sitting at her desk with her head resting in the palm of her hand. Her shoulders were slouched, and she seemed as if she were absolutely lost in her own thoughts.
"Woman," Vegeta cleared his throat to announce his presence. Bulma turned lazily to glance at him over her shoulder, but she didn't reply. Her lower lip trembled as she sadly watched him, and he could tell she must not be feeling well to be so blatantly vulnerable in his presence. The Saiyan raised an eyebrow to see her face – red, puffy, stained with tears, and looking absolutely pitiful. She'd been crying during her altercation with Yamcha – were these residual tears from that encounter?
"I've come to see what the progress is with the robot." The Saiyan continued. He could feel his heart rate increasing to think of Yamcha putting the Bluehead in such a state, but he quickly shot such a reaction down. What did it matter to him if she wanted to allow herself to stoop to such a low state over a fiend like Yamcha? What she chose to yearn over was of no importance to the prince of the ancient Saiyan race!
Bulma shrugged, turning back to her desk and sighing. "I'm working on it. I might be done tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Vegeta growled. "But you've already been working on the damned thing for more than a day!"
Bulma's shoulders rose as he spoke, and she shook her head. "Excuse me! You seem to forget that I'm a very busy woman!" She shot to her feet, shooting a glare as Vegeta. Suddenly the tears were no longer in her eyes – there was just that familiar fire that he always saw when she would question his authority. She could really play off this stance well – there was no doubt that weaker forms would cower under her posture when she was angry. Her futile attitude had no effect on Vegeta, though. Yet he was secretly pleased to see such an anger manifesting in her skin. This suited her more than sobbing wasteful tears over such a weak man.
It was good to see her returning back to normal. She didn't need to be weeping for him any longer.
Vegeta turned, satisfied that the Woman was seemingly cured of her melancholy. "Your productivity suffers when that man comes around." He spat, crossing his arms. "If you want to know my opinion, I think you'd find better use sobbing over a toad than that fool. Now get back to work." And with that he left the room, leaving her to the task at hand.
It disturbed him to realize how Yamcha had effected the Woman so dramatically. And it was even more horrific to realize that it bothered him so much. Vegeta, the lone warrior, falling to a level so low as to concern himself with the shallow matters of an inferior race. Why should he care – why should he care at all if someone who was so capable of creating such magnificent mechanisms chose to waste her brain on an ogre? Why should Vegeta care at all?
Whatever, he thought, returning back to his ship to train once more. He didn't care. It didn't matter what she did… he just wished it wasn't with Yamcha. Anything would suit her more than that. She could do whatever she wanted, for all Vegeta cared, as long as it didn't interfere with her productivity.
As long as it was with anyone but him...
Damn! Vegeta shook his head. Here he was, doing it was again. His mind was still wandering to that Woman!
The lone Saiyan let out a sigh.
It was going to be a long three years.
