Konstantine: Curious

Vegeta dashed this way and that, avoiding his own blasts. He was late, and one hit him. All that flushed through his mind was the need, the yearning, the nastalgia for the gold. The power was at his fingertips, almost within grasp. At this point, he believed nothing could stop him. In that instant, something went terribly wrong. Wires sizzled, fire burned, and bones broke

When he awoke, he heard faint sounds. Not many things were clear and his vision especially. He could make out the droning and annoying voice of the earth woman.The woman who took him in, the woman who gave him shelter and training facilities. Not to mention food.

I don't think i'd mind her, he thought, if it wasn't for her madenning voice. Afterall, she was appealing to the eye, and the Prince did not find this common among many earth women. But, like so many other things hindered by his mind, something held him back from her.

'He'll be find, my dear. Just some rest, that's all.'

'Thanks, daddy,' He recognized the womans voice, and assumed the other was that of the father. 'I'll look after him for awhile.'

As he remembered it, weeks past and Vegeta and Bulma grew closer. She looked after him while he recovered. He wasn't sure, but he was beginning to think the woman carried a certain interest in him. Vegeta was almost sure he could catch a galnce or two from Bulma every now and then. A glance of his body, his chest, any part of his figure for that matter.

Weeks after the accident, Vegeta had finally regained the strength of his legs. He still needed occasional help, but Bulma had lessened her time with him, due to his lack of need. Hunger rung over his body, and he began to make the possible, but still difficult journey down the stairs from his bed quarters to the ktichen. The usual bit of stumble was involved, but after five long and hard minutes, he made his way to the bottom and soon found himself making haste to the kitchen. Vegeta opened the door to the fridge and gazed upon the contents, cool air of the refridgerator breezing on him. Lettuce, ham, mayo, mustard, and pickles, he decided. As he was searching for the bread to accompany the casual ingrediants on the counter, the front door creaked open. Two dark figures were standing in the doorway, one giggling and the other hovering close over. He knew the giggle and quickly decided who the taller and much more intoxicated figure was; that miserable earthling that he had blown away once before. Vegeta snuck closer to listen to their conversation.

'Come on Bulma, let me come in.' Yamcha managed to say.

Bulma backed away and hushed him with low and authoritative words, 'I don't think so, Yamcha. You should go home and rest, you're obviously drunk.'

'I'm just fine.' Yamcha claimed in his stupor.

Vegeta watched as Yamcha moved closer to Bulma to kiss her and instantly felt the urge to fire a ki blast through his stomach and kill the miserable earthling a second time. He imaged the smell of alcohol on the pathetic human's breath and was much relieved to find Bulma dodging the kiss and pushing Yamcha out the door.

'Tomorrow, when you can walk straight.' Bulma promised him and closed the door, quickly locking it leaning her weight against it, as if she had no strength within herself.

Vegeta quickly found his way back to his sandwhich ingredients and made three. He sat down at the table just in time. Bulma strode into the kitchen, looking happy as could be.

'Have fun?' Vegeta inquired, while stuffing his face with a sandwhich.

'More than you could image.' Bulma lied and took one of the sandwhiches.

Vegeta glared and sat up, taking the other sandwhich with him to his room. He wasn't quite sure why he glared at her, maybe it was instinct. He was mad at her, in fact he felt inquisitive. Almost sorry for her. He wasn't quite sure why she put up with that drunk fool.

I can't image all the people that you know,
And the places that you go,
When the lights are turned down low.

I don't own DB/Z/GT. Akira Toriyama is God and I am but a subject of him.