Not Who She Expected
Chapter One: Who's Cheating?
Disclaimer: Characters and settings are the property of Akira Toriyama, I'm just borrowing them for a little non-profit romance.
Months passed and in one day the world changed. Goku came home. Frieza, the destroyer of the Sayian race, the monster who had been Vegeta's master in all but name, came to Earth and was destroyed by a mysterious youth. The boy claimed to be from the future, he told them that, three years from the day of his arrival, the Earth would be conquered by Androids and all the Z-Fighters would be killed. Thus forewarned the Z-Fighter, even Vegeta, began training and preparing for the day. They were determined that they wouldn't be beaten this time. But three years was a long time and in the meanwhile life went on.
Life even resumed a certain degree of normalcy. Eighteen months earlier Capsule Corp's rooms had been home to alien refugees from a planet which had been utterly destroyed during the titanic battle between Frieza and Goku. Now it hosted a sparking collection of Earth's who's who; a veritable paparazzi mecca, if they'd been able to get past Capsule Corp security. Bulma's other social set, the heirs and heiresses she'd gone to school with, a sprinkling of professional athletes, famous musicians and movie stars for color. Or as Bulma thought of them her 'normal' friends.
Bulma felt a thrill of nervousness when she saw Vegeta standing in the doorway surveying her party with his ever-present scowl. She'd thought it was safe to throw a party, the Namekians had left for their new planet and Vegeta rarely left the Gravity Room. Bulma had even gotten her dad to promise to be on call for repairs should the arrogant Prince break the GR at an inconvenient moment. Bulma thought she'd taken every precaution to ensure that there was no reason for Vegeta to come make a scene. The only thing Bulma could blame it on was her damn rotten luck: One of Vegeta's rare and sporadic moments of need for human -well, sentient- contact had manifested while she had normal company over.
Vegeta didn't look out of place, from his navy blue polo shirt and khaki slacks to his superior expression, he fit in with the other guests. In the loosely fitting clothes even his spectacular physique didn't set him apart from the athletes. But as soon as she saw him Bulma did a mental run-through of all the ways this could turn into an unmitigated disaster. The list started with Vegeta verbally flaying some poor, ignorant human unfortunate enough to try starting a conversation with him and escalated to Vegeta committing mass murder. The former was practically a given. As for the later... Vegeta was undeniably physically and mentally capable of killing every person at the party up to and including Bulma's martial artist expert boyfriend, but would he?
Vegeta hadn't killed anyone during the year while Goku had been off planet; "That you know of," a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Yamcha said in the back of her head; during the year when Vegeta had arguably been the strongest person on Earth. Piccolo or Gohan might have been able to survive arguing that point but even they hadn't chanced it. Vegeta had behaved himself then, why would he go on a killing spree now? Now that Goku was in the neighborhood and more than capable of controlling Vegeta should it come to that. Now when Vegeta had been training to help defend the Earth from the approaching threat of the Androids for over three months.
It wasn't as if Vegeta were some wild animal who'd strayed into the party. Bulma giggled. If she were honest she had to admit that Vegeta's manners were much more polished than Yamcha's had been when she first brought him home from his life as a dessert bandit and more polished than Goku's ever would be. Vegeta was adaptable in a way that the other Z-Fighters weren't. Yamcha had turned himself from a bandit into a jock but there would always be times when he looked like a clueless moron. Even when Vegeta was out of his depth he rarely looked it. Of course Vegeta primarily displayed his adaptability by demonstrating his talent for trading cutting barbs with anyone, even people unimpressed by physical prowess. Bulma gulped, if Vegeta insulted these people he'd know exactly what he was doing and they'd know he meant every syllable. He was her house guest, it would reflect poorly on her if he were too much of an ass.
Bulma hurried to Vegeta's side. If she were there she could serve as a buffer for her guests. Given a choice between insulting her and insulting complete strangers, Vegeta would always choose her. Bulma had noticed that since the day they'd learned of the Androids Vegeta had developed a special fondness for ticking her off, she had no idea why.
Vegeta's scowl changed into a smirk when he saw Bulma come running at his entrance.
Kakarrot, Goku as the humans called him, was the only person on this mudball worthy of sparring with. Vegeta fully intended to fight the other Saiyan for real once the Androids were put in their place, it wouldn't do for him to allow Kakarrot the chance to become too familiar with his fighting style. So Vegeta found himself reduced to solitary training regimes and verbal sparring. Before, his favorite target had been that miserable bag of hot air called Yamcha. The scarred fighter loathed him and was angered by the hospitalities Bulma extended to him but no matter how much Vegeta wound Yamcha up he could always get the other fighter to back down with the slightest raise of his ki. Vegeta had been responsible for Yamcha's death and Yamcha couldn't face Vegeta without being haunted by that fact.
But the entertainment Vegeta got out of humiliating Yamcha paled beside trading barbs with Bulma. The woman wasn't a warrior by any stretch of the imagination. Vegeta hadn't bothered to really take note of her until she'd gone with them to confront Frieza; to face her death head on. That was when Vegeta realized that while she wasn't a fighter in body she was in spirit. He could kill her with a flick of his finger but she wouldn't back down from their verbal spars. Vegeta found that he liked that. Oh, he was aware that the woman had some silly subconscious faith that he wouldn't hurt her because he'd told them how to revive Kakarrot. In a way she was right, he wouldn't hurt her, but not because of any latent goodness in him. Vegeta had too much pride to end a fight with Bulma through physical violence. If he ever did that he might as well admit that he couldn't match the woman mentally and he'd be damned before he did that. And she was too useful to him, she provided him with the things he needed while staying on Earth. Besides he wasn't ready to fight Kakarrot just yet and if he killed Bulma now who would he argue with?
Vegeta's smirk deepened. He'd already won the opening round of this battle with the woman and he hadn't even said a word. Bulma was jumping at his whims and she didn't even realize it. Vegeta started piling food on a ridiculously undersized plate. He gave the appetizers a disgusted look, 'Why would anyone make food in such small portions? Still they did smell good.'
"Those are just to nibble on," Bulma said as she took his arm. "If you want a meal I'm sure my mother would be happy to whip something up for you in the kitchen."
Vegeta chose not to let her move him. He ate one of the good smelling things. "This is acceptable woman."
Bulma's eyes flashed. She glanced around at her guests then gave a fakey-sweet laugh. "I know it's a challenge, but do try to remember my name. It's Bulma, Bul-ma."
"I only bother myself with important details... Woman."
"I wouldn't want you to strain yourself... Bastard."
"With your attention to accuracy I'm not surprised that the Gravity Room is continually breaking."
"When you abuse something you can't expect it to keep working for you."
Vegeta was about to reply when Bulma's attention shifted to something behind him. Her mouth fell open then her eyes darkened with fury. "That jerk!" she muttered under her breath and stomped past Vegeta.
Vegeta's smirk vanished. Bulma wasn't supposed to walk away from him, she was his- Vegeta hesitated -his entertainment. He turned around and saw Bulma storming over to Yamcha. The scarred fighter was smiling, leaning in close to talk to some blonde girl. Vegeta turned his death glare on Yamcha.
Yamcha glanced up. He returned Vegeta's glare then noticed Bulma, his expression turned frustrated then angry.
"I'm sorry. I enjoyed talking with you," Yamcha said quietly then got up and walked into the kitchen. Bulma followed him.
Vegeta watched them leave with a feeling of irritated discontent. Then he finished filling his plate and headed back toward his rooms.
One of the women at the party intercepted him. "How do you get your hair to stand up like that?" she asked.
Vegeta sneered at her. Her smell, her smile, her voice, they all offended him. Her very presence in his space was an affront. Vegeta's lips curled back slightly. The woman's sense of self-preservation kicked in with a vengeance and she trip over her own feet in her hurry to get away from him.
Vegeta made his exit from the party.
Capsule Corp's kitchen was a large, bright airy room. Despite the numerous cutting edge appliances it still managed to have a homey air, most of the time. With Yamcha and Bulma glaring at each other across the breakfast bar the air crackled with tension.
"My boyfriend, at my party picking up other girls. That's real classy Yamcha!" Bulma snapped.
"Get grip Bulma. I was just talking to her!" Yamcha exclaimed.
"Oh yeah, I saw you 'just talking'. You get a good look at her cleavage leaning into her like that?" Bulma accused.
"You know, I think you liked me better back when I stuck out like a sore thumb at these things. You liked it back when I was your little project that you could show off to your friends!" Yamcha sensed a spike in Vegeta's ki and his expression darkened. "Or am I just not dangerous enough for you these days?"
"Oh no, don't you dare try to make this about me!" Bulma warned. "I'm not the one who was flirting out there!"
"The hell you weren't!"
"Vegeta? Get real."
"Funny how his is the first name you thought of," Yamcha spat.
"Are you out of your mind?" Bulma demanded.
"I'm not the one who invited a mass murderer into my home."
"What was I supposed to do? Leave him wandering around on his own? Wait until he figured out he was trapped on Earth with no money or any clue of how to get stuff without attacking someone?"
"Placating him might have made sense before Goku got back, but what's your excuse now?" Yamcha spat. "I think you like having that monster around!"
"If you haven't notice Goku isn't about to kick Vegeta off the planet, no matter how much you dislike him," Bulma sniffed. "Vegeta's the only other surviving member of Goku's species, he wants Vegeta to have a chance to turn over a new leaf."
"That's Goku. He's a great guy, but he'd give the Devil a second chance," Yamcha said. "I thought you had some common sense. Vegeta is not going to change, he's just a monster."
"Goku did give the Devil a second chance," Bulma replied. "Or have you forgotten that we used to call Piccolo the Great Demon King?"
"That's different!" Yamcha exclaimed. "Piccolo was reborn, or whatever Namekians call that. Vegeta was just resurrected, he's the same guy who killed me! And I don't want my girlfriend playing hostess for my murderer!"
"Vegeta didn't kill you. It was one of those Cultivar things," Bulma corrected.
"Same fucking difference," Yamcha spat. "Now he's living with you. You build him that Gravity Room so he can get even stronger. You're at his beck and call-"
"Okay, I get what this is about. Your feeling insecure, over Vegeta of all people! I don't even like him. So you decided to cheat on me to make me jealous-"
"Ever since I got comfortable enough with people to talk with other girls you've been accusing me of cheating!" Yamcha shouted. "You know, I ought to really do it, just so you'd know the difference!"
"Why shouldn't I? Ever since you started getting popular you've been checking around to see if you could do better than me!" Bulma retorted. "Well trust me, jackass, I might have been the first girl to give you the time of day, but I'm still the best you're ever going to find."
"Who's calling who insecure?" Yamcha asked.
"You'd be dead in the desert by now and no one would even care if not for me," Bulma hissed through her teeth then spun on her heel and stalked upstairs.
Yamcha went back to the party, by the time he left he had three girls' numbers in his pocket. When he got back to his apartment he didn't throw them out.