Disclaimer. Do I really have to? The only things DBZ I own are my kick-ass
action figures. And an overactive imagination.
Speculations on How to Conquer a Saiyajin Prince: Bets, Bribery, and Bulma's Mother
A series of short stories to make up my first take on the epic story that is Bulma and Vejita. My first post on fanfic.net, so play nice. ^_^
~~ Prologue ~~
Bulma fell into her chair, leaning back with a sigh and resting her right arm across her forehead. Some time for her parents to have an anniversary. They were having a relaxing time somewhere far away; she was exhausted after yet another day of cleaning up after that damn Saiyajin, fixing all the equipment he broke. After he obliterated the gravity pod, nearly killing himself, Vejita did nothing but brood all day, every day, impatient to resume his precious training. By the time he had recovered from his injuries – amazingly fast by human standards, so typically Saiyajin – Bulma had the second pod nearly done. If he wasn't scowling from the door, shooting out occasional insults and demanding she finish, now – usually accompanied by a threat or two – he was off sulking, completely ignoring her. He had become even more bizarrely reclusive than usual.
Bulma leaned forward, arms across her desk, her fingers wandering across the technical schematics for her next project. She wasn't sure why, but Vejita's latest brush with death had worried her. A lot. She couldn't stop thinking about it. As much as she hated the arrogant Saiyajin prince, she couldn't help but feel some odd amount of sympathy for him. His homeworld and his entire race had been wiped out by Frieza. All that remained were Vejita, his self-proclaimed nemesis Goku, and Goku's half- Saiyajin son. She could only imagine what that might feel like.
'Not that he didn't do the same to countless other civilizations,' Bulma fiercely reminded herself. 'I may even know what it does feel like someday, if he ever gets around to fighting Goku and blowing us all away. A person couldn't count how many people he's killed if they spent a year trying.' She sighed again, tracing the lines on the schematic with her fingertips. It was her own version of a regeneration pod like the one in Frieza's ship, from what little description she could get from Goku – not the most technically-minded person on the planet, by far – and from Vejita, who irritably proclaimed he was a warrior, not a "tinkerer," and did not waste his time on such things. But he did give her some useful information to go on; she had a sneaking suspicion he knew much more about such matters than he let on. Regardless, this was a project she'd started a few months ago, but as she saw Vejita unconscious, battered and bloody after she pulled him out of the rubble of the gravity pod, she knew that this would not deter him one bit from his training. If anything, it would make him train all the harder. And next time, his Saiyajin stamina might not pull him through it.
"So why should I have to save his sorry monkey butt?" Bulma muttered, resting her chin on the desk. Truth was, she didn't completely understand why she was doing it. She just knew she didn't want to see Vejita kill himself. There had to have been some reason Goku spared his life that first time they fought, some reason Vejita had been included when they used the Dragonballs to bring everyone back to life who'd been killed on Namek.
She ran grease-stained hands through her wildly poofed-out hair without realizing it, then immediately regretted it. "Eeeeww..." she whined, pulling on a grimy strand of soft blue. Glancing at the clock, she slumped and whined again. 1:47 am. Sleep was definitely in order, but so was a shower. And that was most definitely first. Used to pulling late nights in the workshop, she'd built herself a private office, with a full bath, shower and pull-out couch. Her bedroom wasn't so far away, but there were nights she was too exhausted to make the four minute walk. And the stairs? Forget it. She'd just be back in the morning, why bother leaving?
Bulma stood wearily, arching her back and extending her arms up in a massive, cat-like stretch. Every muscle in her thin body ached. As she released from her stretch, her arms falling limply to her side, she felt a sudden rush and darkness encroached on her vision. She put a hand out to grab the back of her chair, but missed, and fell backward.
She hadn't gotten far when she roughly collided with something solid. Very solid. As she came back to her senses, her nose wrinkled, assaulted by a very familiar musky odor. She pulled away to the back of her chair, still needing support after her brief blackout.
"Ehh... Vejita!" she squeaked, covering her nose. She knew he always moved too silently for her to hear him coming, but she was amazed she hadn't –smelled- him coming. Was she really that tired? "Oh man, you stink! What have you been doing all day?"
Taking a look at him, it wasn't difficult to figure out. He looked even worse than he smelled, covered in dirt and blood and a slick layer of sweat. His bodysuit was half gone, it had been ripped in so many places. Apparently he'd finally gotten sick of waiting for her to finish the gravity pod, so he'd gone to beat himself up somewhere else. Hopefully somewhere unpopulated. She was sure the earth was minus a few more islands again.
"You stopped working," the Saiyajin prince stated with obvious disapproval, gracing her with his usual fierce scowl.
Bulma's temper flared. She was too tired for this kind of abuse. "What? Of course I stopped working! I do need sleep, you know! I'm not going to kill myself just so you can get back to your stupid training."
She quickly bit her lip. 'Oops, bad thing to say.' Vejita instantly went from irritable to furious.
"Stupid? My training is more important that you could ever understand, woman! That's just the kind of thing I'd expect to hear from a pathetic Earthling. I'm getting tired of waiting for you to finish. Get back to work before I'm forced to level this whole city out of sheer boredom!"
"The only thing -you're- doing is taking a shower, mister!" Bulma declared, one index finger pointed at his nose. "I can't work when I'm about to pass out, and I definitely can't work when I can't even breathe!"
Vejita looked as if he were about to protest again, but Bulma was already across the workshop, shutting off the lights.
"Get in there," she said brusquely, pointing to her office. "You're taking a shower before I have to fumigate all of Capsule Corp. And you're –not- setting one foot in my house that way! Mom would have a fit."
Vejita growled, hands clenched, but stalked to her office. Books were stuffed to overflowing on several bookshelves, and her desk was littered with stacks of papers. Diagrams of countless inventions, in all stages of development, were tacked to every inch of wall space the small room could afford. But like he'd said, he was a warrior, not a tinkerer, so he ignored it all.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bulma demanded as she came up behind him. She gave him a shove from his place in the doorway. "Shower. Now."
Scowling and looking rather like a petulant child – 'what a brat he must have been!' Bulma thought – the Saiyajin walked to the bathroom. She saw him take a glance around, sniffing in disdain, then he shut the door a little harder than she would have preferred.
"Woman!" Vejita suddenly roared, five minutes and one folded-out couch later. "What kind of soap is this? It smells like, like... flowers...!" The word dripped from his tongue as though it were the most revolting thing he'd ever said.
"And it smells a whole lot better than you do!" she yelled back. "Deal with it!" Bulma snorted as she tried to keep from giggling. She could just see him now, soaking wet, soap in hand, that typical look of wide-eyed fury on his face as he snarled every curse word he knew – a staggering vocabulary, she had to admit – as he contemplated blowing the shower to bits. Probably along with all of Capsule Corp, too.
But somehow, Bulma knew he wouldn't do that. Not while she could provide him with a way to indulge himself in all the self-punishment he wanted. He wanted to work in 450 times Earth gravity, or more, trying to dodge energy attacks when he could barely even stand, much less move? Sure, why not? Maybe Saiyajins just liked to bleed a lot. Destroying the Earth wouldn't be enough of a challenge for him, so she knew he would leave it alone. For now, at least...
"Oh, Goku... I wonder how things are going for you?" Bulma whispered, gazing up through her little round skylight. The sky was perfectly clear tonight; the stars shone like perfect jewels above her. All the Z warriors were immersed in their training, preparing for the arrival of the androids. Goku, Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin, even Yamucha.
Bulma sighed inwardly. She wished she could help more, but there didn't seem to be much for her to do. Tracking down the androids before they appeared was turning into more and more of a dead-end, and all she ever did these days was fix whatever Vejita broke. She thought it would be nice to invite the other Z fighters over, ask if they wanted to use the gravity chamber in the space pod, but she knew Vejita would have several choice opinions about that – and none of them positive. At the very least he would be furious, and there was always the chance of him challenging Goku to a final fight. And probably destroy everything in the process. Bulma was surprised Vejita had stayed at Capsule Corp. for so long, and even more surprised he hadn't gone to fight Goku since they were both on Earth again. It was all he ever seemed to talk about. Did the smaller Saiyajin live only to destroy Goku? Was that the only thing that mattered to him?
'Probably,' Bulma mused. 'I guess it's all he has left, really. All he's ever known is fighting, that's all he can do now. All he has are his pride, a bunch of fighting techniques, and a whole lot of tradition beaten into his brain that will probably die with him.' As much of a jerk as he was, she could at least appreciate his determination.
Bulma unzipped the top half of her greasy worksuit, shoving it down around her waist. She sat down on the folded-out couch, trying to massage her own aching shoulders. The cotton of her tank top was soft against her skin; it felt nicer than her poor, grimy hands. Her nails must be a wreck! This was getting unbearable. She needed her own vacation, and soon. The last adjustments to the gravity chamber would be done tomorrow; after a few final tests, they could move the rest of the training equipment in and it would be ready to go. Then there was the regeneration chamber to worry about... maybe Vejita would give her a few days to rest before he tried to kill himself again. She could only hope.
She gave a little whine and dropped her hands into her lap. Trying to massage her own neck wasn't doing any good. What she really needed was a trip to a spa. She could even invite Chichi. Girls' day out – rest, relaxation, and a whole lot of pampering. Bulma sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. Now she was getting a headache. –That- would be miserable to sleep on. She was getting way too stressed out. Damned Vejita...
A pair of soft hands on her shoulders broke her musing, carefully kneading her sore muscles in a gentle rhythm. She was in such instant ecstasy she didn't even question it. Every touch tingled her skin. Smooth fingers painstakingly worked their way across every inch of her neck, shoulders, and back, easing her soreness as if magically drawing it from her body. 'Did Yamucha sneak in here without me noticing?' She wondered idly, too happy to really care. 'Mmm, nah, he's never done anything this nice. Even after all these years he's still too scared to touch me for more than five minutes at a time. But then... who...?'
Bulma suddenly tensed. 'Wait... not...? No way!'
The hands dropped from her back as Bulma twisted around to see Vejita sitting behind her, staring at her with his second-favorite expression – none at all. At this sudden scrutiny, he scowled (this would be his favorite expression).
"Wha.. wha.. what are you doing?" Bulma stammered, astounded.
Vejita crossed his arms tightly across his chest and looked away. "I thought that if I stopped your pitiful whining, you'd get back to work," he stated flatly.
'Of course. Far be it from him to ever be genuinely nice.' "You bastard!" she hissed. "I should've known!" She smacked the mattress in her frustration. "You are the most self-centered, -arrogant,- irritating..."
She was cut short by the sudden realization, as she looked him over, grasping for more insults, that the Saiyajin prince, freshly showered, sat on her fold-out couch...
...completely...
...naked.
Bulma squealed. "Y-y-y... you... you..." she continued to squeak, backpedaling. In her panicked attempt to gain distance she fell off the fold-out and onto the floor, but this put her at a most inappropriate level for looking up...
"Go to bed! I have to take a shower!" She scrambled to her feet and bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 'Ack! What was he thinking?' Then she remembered – Goku had been the same way, especially as a young boy. 'Stupid Saiyajins, no sense of modesty...'
Bulma leaned against the door, her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing fast. What an embarrassing experience! She put a hand on her chest, trying to calm down. As she stood against the door, taking deep breaths, her blue eyes wide in shock, her mind suddenly wandered back. She had seen enough of Vejita before – considering his clothes rarely stayed in one piece for very long – to know that he had a handsome, well-muscled physique. He was one of the strongest fighters in the universe... of course he would! But she'd also gotten an awfully good view from her impromptu seat on the floor. Was... that... also a common Saiyajiin trait? Bulma felt an uncomfortable heat wash over her face, and suddenly felt very envious of Chichi.
She suddenly squeaked again and flung herself off the door, toward the shower.
'Augh! What am I thinking!?'
Bulma turned on the water hastily, stripping off her clothes as fast as she could. When she tossed them in a corner, she noticed the torn remains of Vejita's bodysuit there as well. With a frustrated growl, she kicked it and slid into the shower. The water was deliciously warm as it gently pelted her skin. She grabbed the soap and scrubbed furiously, despite her exhaustion. Finally satisfied she'd gotten all the grease off of herself, the young woman next tackled her tangled blue hair.
Finished with her shower, she cast a wistful gaze at the bath. She was tired to the verge of collapse, but the temptation was too great.
Five minutes later, Bulma sank into a warm sea of delicate bubbles all the way to her chin, giggling as the foam tickled her nose. She leaned back, one leg and both arms sprawled over the sides of the tub, sighing deeply.
"Mmmm...." she murmured. "Oh, yeah. This is exactly what I needed." She stretched her shoulders back, suddenly realizing how relaxed she really felt. Every bit of tension was gone from her neck and back, thanks to Vejita's impromptu massage. Her skin shivered at the thought of his gentle, electric touch.
'Where did that come from?' she wondered. 'He couldn't have really thought I would just go back to work, could he? Or was he just trying to cover up one of the only nice gestures he's ever made? Could be worse, he is awfully cute...' Bulma suddenly shook her head, little wisps escaping her hair clip and tickling her neck. 'Idiot.' Instead of trying to figure it out, she decided to lay back and think of anything but. Tomorrow – or later today, rather – she had a lot more work to do. And more time to deal with the Saiyajin prince.
Vejita gave a prodigious yawn and flopped back onto the makeshift bed, arms folded behind his head. The couch was an odd contraption, the likes of which he had never seen before, but it seemed to work well enough. He'd wanted to know when the woman was finally going to be done with the gravity chamber, but she'd acted bizarrely and run away before he'd gotten the chance to ask. "Go to bed," she'd told him. Well, this was a bed, and for lack of a better place to be, he decided to remain where he was until he got the answers he needed.
He stared upward, out the tiny skylight directly above him, staring at the cold, tiny pinpoints that were the stars. The scowl he so often wore crossed his sharp features again.
'Kakarotto, I will surpass you. There is nothing else.'
Vejita had spent most of his life in space, bound to Frieza, wandering from planet to planet on some cleansing mission or another, either fighting or sitting in a cramped pod waiting for the next battle. Now where was he? Stuck on this mudball of a planet, surrounded by useless weaklings, practically bored to death, just waiting around for some androids to show up and in the meantime, being ordered around by some woman. He, the prince of the mighty Saiyajin race! She showed him none of the respect he so deserved. If anything, she insulted him every chance she got.
A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 'Ah, but she is fun to argue with,' he mused. There was more than one way to spar with an opponent, and Vejita enjoyed a good challenge in any form. Though physically one of the weakest lifeforms he had ever encountered, she was certainly one of the most strong-willed. And hot tempered. With a vicious tongue. And violent mood swings... She was a constant source of amusement, that woman.
And not unpleasant to look at, of course. Far from it... thoughts of her showering drifted lazily through Vejita's mind, until his eyes snapped open with a start. He hadn't even realized he had closed them. He scowled some more and focused his gaze on the stars once more.
As he collected his thoughts to something a little more dignified, he realized the shower had been off for some time. 'How much primping does she need to do to sleep?' he wondered. 'I've never met such a silly woman. What a waste of time.' He impatiently thrust himself off the bed, stalking to the door.
"Woman!" he demanded. "Are you going to spend all night in there?"
No response. Out of curiosity, Vejita put his ear closer to the door. Even with his sensitive Saiyajin hearing, there was no sound.
'How strange. She makes the most noise of any person I've ever met. The woman never shuts up.'
Vejita actually paused for a moment, contemplating his next move. His hand was poised on the handle, ready to open the door, but barging in on her would certainly incite a minor riot. He had made that mistake once, landing on her balcony one morning, planning to demand she increase the power output of the floating blast drones, only to find her in the process of getting dressed. It was the only time he could ever remember her being quiet; she hadn't talked to him for a week.
That had been a –long- week.
Her bashfulness puzzled him; she had a perfectly formed body, as far as he was concerned, certainly nothing to hide. As if half the clothes she wore hid much anyway! If she wasn't covered in grease and overalls, she was flaunting around in tight shirts and high-cut shorts.
He could knock on the door, like she always yelled at him to. 'But,' he thought with an evil smirk, 'that wouldn't be anywhere near as fun.'
The handle turned and the door swung open silently. The only sound he heard was a soft, rhythmic buzz, almost like a purr.
Bulma, sprawled in the tub, was sound asleep. A fine white mist clung to the surface of the water, a few tiny bubbles dispersed around the edges.
Vejita rolled his eyes in disgust. 'Typical.' Now, to get the answers he wanted, he had to wake her up. And that was not something he was about to do. Yet another mistake he had only made once.
'What a weak human.' But, come to think of it, she had bounced down the stairs at six that morning, ignored him sitting at the table brooding over a cup of tea, gotten a hasty two slices of toast and a cup of coffee, and run out the door. She was there three hours before any of her assistant technicians, and there long after the last of them had gone home. From what he had witnessed, humans rarely stayed awake that long in a single stretch, and certainly never worked that long.
'Good. She is finally doing what she is supposed to,' he thought with a smug grin. 'It's about time she started working and stopped hanging around that pitiful lump of flesh Yamucha.' Vejita growled deep in his throat. Of all the people on this miserable planet, he despised that one the most. Why?
'Because...' Vejita snorted, stopping the thought before it fully formed. This was not the time to be thinking of such things. He had come here looking for answers, directly after he had planned on getting some much- needed sleep. He obviously wasn't going to get the first yet, so he might as well get the second.
'And if I leave her here, she'll either drown or throw a fit in the morning.' What a grand fit that would be. She would never get any work done on the gravity pod, and yet another day would slip away, a day where he could be just one step closer to becoming a Super Saiyajin...
Striding to the side of the bath, Vejita bent to slide his arms around the woman's delicate frame. As he touched her skin, he felt an unfamiliar tingle wash over his body. Grinding his teeth and stoically ignoring it, he concentrated on getting her out of the water without waking her. As he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, her head tipped away from him, exposing the sleek, graceful curve of her long neck. His eyes followed the line from the fine point of her chin, over her collarbone, down...
Forcing his eyes away, Vejita gently pulled Bulma from the lukewarm bath water. He flared his ki, quickly, just enough to dry her off. She unconsciously shifted in his arms, her face pressed against his collarbone, her breath warm on his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The Saiyajin prince carried her back to the unfolded couch, flicking off light switches with his elbow as he went. He set her on the mattress and covered her with a sheet, then settled himself down beside her.
'Infuriating woman. She'll '– interrupted by a massive yawn – 'have to answer to me in the morning. That gravity pod had damn well better be done tomorrow.'
With another yawn, Vejita quickly drifted off to sleep.
Speculations on How to Conquer a Saiyajin Prince: Bets, Bribery, and Bulma's Mother
A series of short stories to make up my first take on the epic story that is Bulma and Vejita. My first post on fanfic.net, so play nice. ^_^
~~ Prologue ~~
Bulma fell into her chair, leaning back with a sigh and resting her right arm across her forehead. Some time for her parents to have an anniversary. They were having a relaxing time somewhere far away; she was exhausted after yet another day of cleaning up after that damn Saiyajin, fixing all the equipment he broke. After he obliterated the gravity pod, nearly killing himself, Vejita did nothing but brood all day, every day, impatient to resume his precious training. By the time he had recovered from his injuries – amazingly fast by human standards, so typically Saiyajin – Bulma had the second pod nearly done. If he wasn't scowling from the door, shooting out occasional insults and demanding she finish, now – usually accompanied by a threat or two – he was off sulking, completely ignoring her. He had become even more bizarrely reclusive than usual.
Bulma leaned forward, arms across her desk, her fingers wandering across the technical schematics for her next project. She wasn't sure why, but Vejita's latest brush with death had worried her. A lot. She couldn't stop thinking about it. As much as she hated the arrogant Saiyajin prince, she couldn't help but feel some odd amount of sympathy for him. His homeworld and his entire race had been wiped out by Frieza. All that remained were Vejita, his self-proclaimed nemesis Goku, and Goku's half- Saiyajin son. She could only imagine what that might feel like.
'Not that he didn't do the same to countless other civilizations,' Bulma fiercely reminded herself. 'I may even know what it does feel like someday, if he ever gets around to fighting Goku and blowing us all away. A person couldn't count how many people he's killed if they spent a year trying.' She sighed again, tracing the lines on the schematic with her fingertips. It was her own version of a regeneration pod like the one in Frieza's ship, from what little description she could get from Goku – not the most technically-minded person on the planet, by far – and from Vejita, who irritably proclaimed he was a warrior, not a "tinkerer," and did not waste his time on such things. But he did give her some useful information to go on; she had a sneaking suspicion he knew much more about such matters than he let on. Regardless, this was a project she'd started a few months ago, but as she saw Vejita unconscious, battered and bloody after she pulled him out of the rubble of the gravity pod, she knew that this would not deter him one bit from his training. If anything, it would make him train all the harder. And next time, his Saiyajin stamina might not pull him through it.
"So why should I have to save his sorry monkey butt?" Bulma muttered, resting her chin on the desk. Truth was, she didn't completely understand why she was doing it. She just knew she didn't want to see Vejita kill himself. There had to have been some reason Goku spared his life that first time they fought, some reason Vejita had been included when they used the Dragonballs to bring everyone back to life who'd been killed on Namek.
She ran grease-stained hands through her wildly poofed-out hair without realizing it, then immediately regretted it. "Eeeeww..." she whined, pulling on a grimy strand of soft blue. Glancing at the clock, she slumped and whined again. 1:47 am. Sleep was definitely in order, but so was a shower. And that was most definitely first. Used to pulling late nights in the workshop, she'd built herself a private office, with a full bath, shower and pull-out couch. Her bedroom wasn't so far away, but there were nights she was too exhausted to make the four minute walk. And the stairs? Forget it. She'd just be back in the morning, why bother leaving?
Bulma stood wearily, arching her back and extending her arms up in a massive, cat-like stretch. Every muscle in her thin body ached. As she released from her stretch, her arms falling limply to her side, she felt a sudden rush and darkness encroached on her vision. She put a hand out to grab the back of her chair, but missed, and fell backward.
She hadn't gotten far when she roughly collided with something solid. Very solid. As she came back to her senses, her nose wrinkled, assaulted by a very familiar musky odor. She pulled away to the back of her chair, still needing support after her brief blackout.
"Ehh... Vejita!" she squeaked, covering her nose. She knew he always moved too silently for her to hear him coming, but she was amazed she hadn't –smelled- him coming. Was she really that tired? "Oh man, you stink! What have you been doing all day?"
Taking a look at him, it wasn't difficult to figure out. He looked even worse than he smelled, covered in dirt and blood and a slick layer of sweat. His bodysuit was half gone, it had been ripped in so many places. Apparently he'd finally gotten sick of waiting for her to finish the gravity pod, so he'd gone to beat himself up somewhere else. Hopefully somewhere unpopulated. She was sure the earth was minus a few more islands again.
"You stopped working," the Saiyajin prince stated with obvious disapproval, gracing her with his usual fierce scowl.
Bulma's temper flared. She was too tired for this kind of abuse. "What? Of course I stopped working! I do need sleep, you know! I'm not going to kill myself just so you can get back to your stupid training."
She quickly bit her lip. 'Oops, bad thing to say.' Vejita instantly went from irritable to furious.
"Stupid? My training is more important that you could ever understand, woman! That's just the kind of thing I'd expect to hear from a pathetic Earthling. I'm getting tired of waiting for you to finish. Get back to work before I'm forced to level this whole city out of sheer boredom!"
"The only thing -you're- doing is taking a shower, mister!" Bulma declared, one index finger pointed at his nose. "I can't work when I'm about to pass out, and I definitely can't work when I can't even breathe!"
Vejita looked as if he were about to protest again, but Bulma was already across the workshop, shutting off the lights.
"Get in there," she said brusquely, pointing to her office. "You're taking a shower before I have to fumigate all of Capsule Corp. And you're –not- setting one foot in my house that way! Mom would have a fit."
Vejita growled, hands clenched, but stalked to her office. Books were stuffed to overflowing on several bookshelves, and her desk was littered with stacks of papers. Diagrams of countless inventions, in all stages of development, were tacked to every inch of wall space the small room could afford. But like he'd said, he was a warrior, not a tinkerer, so he ignored it all.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bulma demanded as she came up behind him. She gave him a shove from his place in the doorway. "Shower. Now."
Scowling and looking rather like a petulant child – 'what a brat he must have been!' Bulma thought – the Saiyajin walked to the bathroom. She saw him take a glance around, sniffing in disdain, then he shut the door a little harder than she would have preferred.
"Woman!" Vejita suddenly roared, five minutes and one folded-out couch later. "What kind of soap is this? It smells like, like... flowers...!" The word dripped from his tongue as though it were the most revolting thing he'd ever said.
"And it smells a whole lot better than you do!" she yelled back. "Deal with it!" Bulma snorted as she tried to keep from giggling. She could just see him now, soaking wet, soap in hand, that typical look of wide-eyed fury on his face as he snarled every curse word he knew – a staggering vocabulary, she had to admit – as he contemplated blowing the shower to bits. Probably along with all of Capsule Corp, too.
But somehow, Bulma knew he wouldn't do that. Not while she could provide him with a way to indulge himself in all the self-punishment he wanted. He wanted to work in 450 times Earth gravity, or more, trying to dodge energy attacks when he could barely even stand, much less move? Sure, why not? Maybe Saiyajins just liked to bleed a lot. Destroying the Earth wouldn't be enough of a challenge for him, so she knew he would leave it alone. For now, at least...
"Oh, Goku... I wonder how things are going for you?" Bulma whispered, gazing up through her little round skylight. The sky was perfectly clear tonight; the stars shone like perfect jewels above her. All the Z warriors were immersed in their training, preparing for the arrival of the androids. Goku, Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin, even Yamucha.
Bulma sighed inwardly. She wished she could help more, but there didn't seem to be much for her to do. Tracking down the androids before they appeared was turning into more and more of a dead-end, and all she ever did these days was fix whatever Vejita broke. She thought it would be nice to invite the other Z fighters over, ask if they wanted to use the gravity chamber in the space pod, but she knew Vejita would have several choice opinions about that – and none of them positive. At the very least he would be furious, and there was always the chance of him challenging Goku to a final fight. And probably destroy everything in the process. Bulma was surprised Vejita had stayed at Capsule Corp. for so long, and even more surprised he hadn't gone to fight Goku since they were both on Earth again. It was all he ever seemed to talk about. Did the smaller Saiyajin live only to destroy Goku? Was that the only thing that mattered to him?
'Probably,' Bulma mused. 'I guess it's all he has left, really. All he's ever known is fighting, that's all he can do now. All he has are his pride, a bunch of fighting techniques, and a whole lot of tradition beaten into his brain that will probably die with him.' As much of a jerk as he was, she could at least appreciate his determination.
Bulma unzipped the top half of her greasy worksuit, shoving it down around her waist. She sat down on the folded-out couch, trying to massage her own aching shoulders. The cotton of her tank top was soft against her skin; it felt nicer than her poor, grimy hands. Her nails must be a wreck! This was getting unbearable. She needed her own vacation, and soon. The last adjustments to the gravity chamber would be done tomorrow; after a few final tests, they could move the rest of the training equipment in and it would be ready to go. Then there was the regeneration chamber to worry about... maybe Vejita would give her a few days to rest before he tried to kill himself again. She could only hope.
She gave a little whine and dropped her hands into her lap. Trying to massage her own neck wasn't doing any good. What she really needed was a trip to a spa. She could even invite Chichi. Girls' day out – rest, relaxation, and a whole lot of pampering. Bulma sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. Now she was getting a headache. –That- would be miserable to sleep on. She was getting way too stressed out. Damned Vejita...
A pair of soft hands on her shoulders broke her musing, carefully kneading her sore muscles in a gentle rhythm. She was in such instant ecstasy she didn't even question it. Every touch tingled her skin. Smooth fingers painstakingly worked their way across every inch of her neck, shoulders, and back, easing her soreness as if magically drawing it from her body. 'Did Yamucha sneak in here without me noticing?' She wondered idly, too happy to really care. 'Mmm, nah, he's never done anything this nice. Even after all these years he's still too scared to touch me for more than five minutes at a time. But then... who...?'
Bulma suddenly tensed. 'Wait... not...? No way!'
The hands dropped from her back as Bulma twisted around to see Vejita sitting behind her, staring at her with his second-favorite expression – none at all. At this sudden scrutiny, he scowled (this would be his favorite expression).
"Wha.. wha.. what are you doing?" Bulma stammered, astounded.
Vejita crossed his arms tightly across his chest and looked away. "I thought that if I stopped your pitiful whining, you'd get back to work," he stated flatly.
'Of course. Far be it from him to ever be genuinely nice.' "You bastard!" she hissed. "I should've known!" She smacked the mattress in her frustration. "You are the most self-centered, -arrogant,- irritating..."
She was cut short by the sudden realization, as she looked him over, grasping for more insults, that the Saiyajin prince, freshly showered, sat on her fold-out couch...
...completely...
...naked.
Bulma squealed. "Y-y-y... you... you..." she continued to squeak, backpedaling. In her panicked attempt to gain distance she fell off the fold-out and onto the floor, but this put her at a most inappropriate level for looking up...
"Go to bed! I have to take a shower!" She scrambled to her feet and bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 'Ack! What was he thinking?' Then she remembered – Goku had been the same way, especially as a young boy. 'Stupid Saiyajins, no sense of modesty...'
Bulma leaned against the door, her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing fast. What an embarrassing experience! She put a hand on her chest, trying to calm down. As she stood against the door, taking deep breaths, her blue eyes wide in shock, her mind suddenly wandered back. She had seen enough of Vejita before – considering his clothes rarely stayed in one piece for very long – to know that he had a handsome, well-muscled physique. He was one of the strongest fighters in the universe... of course he would! But she'd also gotten an awfully good view from her impromptu seat on the floor. Was... that... also a common Saiyajiin trait? Bulma felt an uncomfortable heat wash over her face, and suddenly felt very envious of Chichi.
She suddenly squeaked again and flung herself off the door, toward the shower.
'Augh! What am I thinking!?'
Bulma turned on the water hastily, stripping off her clothes as fast as she could. When she tossed them in a corner, she noticed the torn remains of Vejita's bodysuit there as well. With a frustrated growl, she kicked it and slid into the shower. The water was deliciously warm as it gently pelted her skin. She grabbed the soap and scrubbed furiously, despite her exhaustion. Finally satisfied she'd gotten all the grease off of herself, the young woman next tackled her tangled blue hair.
Finished with her shower, she cast a wistful gaze at the bath. She was tired to the verge of collapse, but the temptation was too great.
Five minutes later, Bulma sank into a warm sea of delicate bubbles all the way to her chin, giggling as the foam tickled her nose. She leaned back, one leg and both arms sprawled over the sides of the tub, sighing deeply.
"Mmmm...." she murmured. "Oh, yeah. This is exactly what I needed." She stretched her shoulders back, suddenly realizing how relaxed she really felt. Every bit of tension was gone from her neck and back, thanks to Vejita's impromptu massage. Her skin shivered at the thought of his gentle, electric touch.
'Where did that come from?' she wondered. 'He couldn't have really thought I would just go back to work, could he? Or was he just trying to cover up one of the only nice gestures he's ever made? Could be worse, he is awfully cute...' Bulma suddenly shook her head, little wisps escaping her hair clip and tickling her neck. 'Idiot.' Instead of trying to figure it out, she decided to lay back and think of anything but. Tomorrow – or later today, rather – she had a lot more work to do. And more time to deal with the Saiyajin prince.
Vejita gave a prodigious yawn and flopped back onto the makeshift bed, arms folded behind his head. The couch was an odd contraption, the likes of which he had never seen before, but it seemed to work well enough. He'd wanted to know when the woman was finally going to be done with the gravity chamber, but she'd acted bizarrely and run away before he'd gotten the chance to ask. "Go to bed," she'd told him. Well, this was a bed, and for lack of a better place to be, he decided to remain where he was until he got the answers he needed.
He stared upward, out the tiny skylight directly above him, staring at the cold, tiny pinpoints that were the stars. The scowl he so often wore crossed his sharp features again.
'Kakarotto, I will surpass you. There is nothing else.'
Vejita had spent most of his life in space, bound to Frieza, wandering from planet to planet on some cleansing mission or another, either fighting or sitting in a cramped pod waiting for the next battle. Now where was he? Stuck on this mudball of a planet, surrounded by useless weaklings, practically bored to death, just waiting around for some androids to show up and in the meantime, being ordered around by some woman. He, the prince of the mighty Saiyajin race! She showed him none of the respect he so deserved. If anything, she insulted him every chance she got.
A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 'Ah, but she is fun to argue with,' he mused. There was more than one way to spar with an opponent, and Vejita enjoyed a good challenge in any form. Though physically one of the weakest lifeforms he had ever encountered, she was certainly one of the most strong-willed. And hot tempered. With a vicious tongue. And violent mood swings... She was a constant source of amusement, that woman.
And not unpleasant to look at, of course. Far from it... thoughts of her showering drifted lazily through Vejita's mind, until his eyes snapped open with a start. He hadn't even realized he had closed them. He scowled some more and focused his gaze on the stars once more.
As he collected his thoughts to something a little more dignified, he realized the shower had been off for some time. 'How much primping does she need to do to sleep?' he wondered. 'I've never met such a silly woman. What a waste of time.' He impatiently thrust himself off the bed, stalking to the door.
"Woman!" he demanded. "Are you going to spend all night in there?"
No response. Out of curiosity, Vejita put his ear closer to the door. Even with his sensitive Saiyajin hearing, there was no sound.
'How strange. She makes the most noise of any person I've ever met. The woman never shuts up.'
Vejita actually paused for a moment, contemplating his next move. His hand was poised on the handle, ready to open the door, but barging in on her would certainly incite a minor riot. He had made that mistake once, landing on her balcony one morning, planning to demand she increase the power output of the floating blast drones, only to find her in the process of getting dressed. It was the only time he could ever remember her being quiet; she hadn't talked to him for a week.
That had been a –long- week.
Her bashfulness puzzled him; she had a perfectly formed body, as far as he was concerned, certainly nothing to hide. As if half the clothes she wore hid much anyway! If she wasn't covered in grease and overalls, she was flaunting around in tight shirts and high-cut shorts.
He could knock on the door, like she always yelled at him to. 'But,' he thought with an evil smirk, 'that wouldn't be anywhere near as fun.'
The handle turned and the door swung open silently. The only sound he heard was a soft, rhythmic buzz, almost like a purr.
Bulma, sprawled in the tub, was sound asleep. A fine white mist clung to the surface of the water, a few tiny bubbles dispersed around the edges.
Vejita rolled his eyes in disgust. 'Typical.' Now, to get the answers he wanted, he had to wake her up. And that was not something he was about to do. Yet another mistake he had only made once.
'What a weak human.' But, come to think of it, she had bounced down the stairs at six that morning, ignored him sitting at the table brooding over a cup of tea, gotten a hasty two slices of toast and a cup of coffee, and run out the door. She was there three hours before any of her assistant technicians, and there long after the last of them had gone home. From what he had witnessed, humans rarely stayed awake that long in a single stretch, and certainly never worked that long.
'Good. She is finally doing what she is supposed to,' he thought with a smug grin. 'It's about time she started working and stopped hanging around that pitiful lump of flesh Yamucha.' Vejita growled deep in his throat. Of all the people on this miserable planet, he despised that one the most. Why?
'Because...' Vejita snorted, stopping the thought before it fully formed. This was not the time to be thinking of such things. He had come here looking for answers, directly after he had planned on getting some much- needed sleep. He obviously wasn't going to get the first yet, so he might as well get the second.
'And if I leave her here, she'll either drown or throw a fit in the morning.' What a grand fit that would be. She would never get any work done on the gravity pod, and yet another day would slip away, a day where he could be just one step closer to becoming a Super Saiyajin...
Striding to the side of the bath, Vejita bent to slide his arms around the woman's delicate frame. As he touched her skin, he felt an unfamiliar tingle wash over his body. Grinding his teeth and stoically ignoring it, he concentrated on getting her out of the water without waking her. As he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, her head tipped away from him, exposing the sleek, graceful curve of her long neck. His eyes followed the line from the fine point of her chin, over her collarbone, down...
Forcing his eyes away, Vejita gently pulled Bulma from the lukewarm bath water. He flared his ki, quickly, just enough to dry her off. She unconsciously shifted in his arms, her face pressed against his collarbone, her breath warm on his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The Saiyajin prince carried her back to the unfolded couch, flicking off light switches with his elbow as he went. He set her on the mattress and covered her with a sheet, then settled himself down beside her.
'Infuriating woman. She'll '– interrupted by a massive yawn – 'have to answer to me in the morning. That gravity pod had damn well better be done tomorrow.'
With another yawn, Vejita quickly drifted off to sleep.