A/N...chapter two we see Bulma trying to convince her stubborn husband to accompany them on the trip. See if she can succeed.
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ
Bulma kept herself busy with a word puzzle; waiting in inactivity was something she was not capable of. It toyed with her nerves. With the extra time at her disposal, she had arranged all the books in the library, bathed Bra, and aided Trunks with his homework. The heiress had assigned herself dutiful tasks to pass the time. And still she'd yet come in contact with Vegeta. The prince had never stayed more than 7 hours in the room. And she could have sworn she'd stalled her time for over 8 hours waiting for him. He couldn't possibly have enough energy to withhold his average gravity pull. That amount of time could kill a man. But Vegeta wasn't a typical man; he was a saiyan. Saiyans were an advanced form of life. They had more tolerance for pain—borderline indestructible, powerful, subjugating, and plain awful rude (Goku's benevolence exempts him from that proverbial fact).
Another half hour of leaning forward in her chair, her gaze unfocused, she could feel her nerves spiking up and down. The thought of him renouncing the idea without any room for reasoning cradled her rising nerves. She had, however, many tricks up her sleeve before taking any firm 'hell nos'. The first trick she had used was persuasive enough to coaxed him into bringing Bulla to her first play date. He'd simply have to drop her and leave, but that wasn't why he disdained the practice. Whenever forced to do the chore, he was met with clingy, overly sympathizing mother's who'd taken it upon themselves to bombard him with coos and questions. Their over frivolous persona was even too much for Bulma. Partially, it was her intolerance of the women that she'd forced her husband to do it. She'd kept that reasoning to herself. Forcing him to that job was easy. He'd eventually oblige to anything involving Bra. That, although he would never vocally admit, was his little princess. Forcing him to go to a place where he'd be out of his comfort zone, surrounded by earthlings, would serve a bit more complex than taking his daughter to a play date. Would her art of persuasion fail her?
Her question would soon be answered. It wasn't after the clock stroke 6, did the door to the gravity room hissed open. Like fog on a platform, steam bled through the door. His sleek silhouette cut through the fog slowly. His notoriously stoic scowl painted on his moist face. He had a white towel around his neck, so the drops of liquid on his face was the condensed droplets of water after a shower. Bulma sat up, her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm, she approached her husband. Her approach leveled; each taken lascivious step was, in its own, an attack to weaken him. Her efforts would soon fail when the prince stalked passed her with solid, unwavering, eyes. She sucked her teeth at her already failed attempt. She hadn't even fully approached him, and the plan was coming to bits.
Vegeta hadn't prepensely ignored his wife's lascivious vibes. He had just been hungry. Spending well more than eight hours training under 300 times earth's normal gravity could do that to a man. Bulma followed him suit. Once in the kitchen, she powered back her charm and intercepted Vegeta's advancement towards the fridge. The scowl on Vegeta's face deepened and before his mouth opened to question his wife's foolish behaviors, Bulma opened the fridge door open for him. A small grin appeared on her face, and she motioned for him to have a seat. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, but without any act on his suspicion, he complied. Bulma took out a small capsule from the fridge. This was the first move of plan A: Please husband with abundant amount of food. It was more than a fact that the best way to a Saiyan's heart was in fact through their stomach. Excellent example for the theory was Goku: he had literally correlated marriage as a discreet word for a type of dish.
Closing the fridge, she walked to where her husband sat. She met him with a playful grin to which he met her with a flummoxed expression. She cleared her throat, "I made your favorites," she clicked the cap and threw it on the table. Within seconds it exploded. After the light puff of smoke from the capsule cleared an extravagant arrangements of his favorite meals and desserts occupied the velvety clothed ornamented table. Three candles took refuge in the center. They flickered ever so slightly, matching the mood and cadence of the current moment. The lights in the kitchen had mysteriously mellowed out into a dimmer glow. Vegeta looked up, oddly confused by the turn of events. He eyed the woman questioningly, but he still spoke no words on the matter. The woman was a strange, manic depressed character, and if he were to question everything odd she'd done he'd exhaust the air in his lungs.
Bulma broke the long silence before it slipped into awkwardness, "Well, dig in. " She was sitting facing to him, and in front of her was a plate filled with the goodies from the table. Vegeta grabbed for a fork, wordlessly. Bulma huffed inwardly. She had truly hoped he'd speak of his gratitude for the meal than digging in immediately, but she let that little bother slip. She had bigger fish to fry. For a long while the only sound that emitted from the room was the clanging sound of metal to ceramic. The sound synced with the sound of chomping mouths and swallows. Still no words exchanged among them. Bulma grew nervous, and the silence was pinning her to a corner. She had to act fast before she lost the chance to bond and strategically propose the vacation. Saiyan's were fast eaters.
Again she cleared her throat, "Do you like the stewed lambs...they are your favorites," she cocked her head to the side, and let her wide smile veil her temporarily chiaroscuro features. Occupied with the savory food before him, Vegeta failed to catch her affectious ways. Bulma groaned at her husband's lack of attention towards her. If not for the many years of marriage and clear emotional bond before them, she'd crack under insecurities. But she knew how strong their love was. It did not need any forced actions to reprimand her. Still it bore down on her.
She went for another jab at a conversion, this time attacking it at a more relevant point. "So how are the bots I designed?"
"A bit slow if you ask me" he finally spoke. Bulma repressed a grunt. The first exchanged of words from his part and it had to be an insult to her. If not for her self-control, she would have launched herself to him, and strangle him. Jerk she thought to herself.
"Oh, my" her tone drenched in insincerity. " I guess your just so strong I can't keep up." Vegeta looked up at her, his eyes planted on hers. He sensed her insincerity off the bat, but countering her would only hold him from finishing his meal.
"Did you press the black button under the reset?" She asked.
"Black button?"
Bulma chuckled and laid out the information to the new programming, "Well, If you had listened to me last time you'd know—"
"Spit it out woman!" He interjected. He'd lost his patience at this point. He didn't like her skidding around whatever ruse this whole dinner was meant for.
Bulma quirked one blue brow at him, "Well I was going to tell you about the bots."
"Not the bots," his tone was more leveled. "What's the meaning for all this," his hands pointed at all the festive decor of the table and food. Bulma cursed herself inwardly for coming off too conspicuous. For this whole plan to work subtlety was the key. When that key had been flushed, it served Bulma a predicament she had not prepared for.
She decided to play it coy, "What is it then?"
Losing his patience and fast, he once again flagged his hands over the food indicating to her that this whole extravagant dinner was too out of character for her...For her to concoct such a ruse, she would need time, and for her to have time, she would need to take some time off work.
He was catching on to her fast, and to thwart him off her trail she decided to play a different card, a more aggressive, defensive card. " Whatever Vegeta!" She yelled, and pushed her chair back and stood indignantly. She grabbed her empty appliances and threw them aggressively into the sink. "I do one nice thing for you and rather than thanking me, you accuse me of wrong doings!" She squared her hands to her hips and marched towards him and grabbed his empty appliances and doing the same thing she did to hers. Vegeta arched his eyebrows up at her mood doing a complete 180. He assumed her to be slightly mad, but her actions could prove him otherwise. The woman was a few bulbs short of mentally apt. Genius or not, she was missing a few screws.
"Why are you being defensive?" He smirked darkly, and crossed his arms. His words were making her squirm, and from her shifting eyes, and uncomfortable mannerism; he knew something was up.
"Defensive?!" She threw back, "Oh I'll show you defensive," and with those being her last words, she stormed out the kitchen.
She had only made it to the outside door of their bedroom until her feisty façade faded into an anxious one. She placed a calming hand on her heart to feel the rush. She let out controlled breaths to bring back her composure. Alright he's starting to suspect. I can't let him know now, not until he's in a better mood. She went into their room and flopped back first on her side of the bed. Suddenly a mischievous grin grew on her lips-her grin progressively stretched out from ear to ear-a grin that could only assert the formation of a new plan. Onto plan B she thought as her eyes flew to a wooden chest securely hidden in the crook of their bedroom.
I hoped you like it...
Review if you'd like. I want to know what you think of it! I always like feedback...
Stay tune for the next Chapter.
Inside the Treasure Chest.
Bulma has another plan under her sleeves...and this one involves this mysterious chest. What of this plan and will it be enough to get the saiyan prince to agree.
