Symphonic Artistry

Chapter 4: The First Temptation

"So we've gotten blue and green down." Bulma flipped through the sheet music to her new compositions. "I'm in a red mood. I think red will be the next color I do. What do you think?" She looked in the direction of the only other person in the studio with her.

Vegeta grunted as he continued to sketch. Only two weeks had passed since their first session. Bulma had just finished playing the composition for green. As he listened, he'd been drawing what came to mind. He could already see the vivid shades of green he could use for such a picture. Sitting with Bulma as she composed was very beneficial to his designs. He had missed going to her home, though. Since that one day they'd been there, she had insisted they meet at the studio.

Probably something to do with that shithead she calls a fiancé, the artist thought. He frowned as he thought about Frieza. Every time he'd seen the man, he treated Bulma terribly. Vegeta knew he had asshole-ish tendencies but Frieza put even him to shame. He was putting too much pressure on his pencil and the tip snapped.

The noise caused Bulma to look up. She saw Vegeta mumbling curses under his breath as he opened up a pouch full of utensils. She smiled to herself. The way he got so frustrated with his drawings was endearing. Vegeta showed the most emotion when he drew. Over the last two weeks, in addition to sketches for the ballet, Vegeta had given her plenty of sketches of her. Most of them were pictures of her while she played. There were also a few of her hands. She was still amazed at his ability to draw from memory.

"You okay over there?" she asked. She only earned another grunt as he took out another pencil. Bulma came to realize that Vegeta would never be a big talker. She did not mind his silence, though. Whenever he did speak it was made clear that he had been listening. Bulma took a look at the clock in the studio. "It's about time for lunch. Wanna go out?"

At the mention of food, Vegeta finally glanced over at her. Pizza and takeout had been their diet when together for the duration of the two weeks. Now she wanted to actually leave the studio? "Where do you want to go, woman?"

Bulma appeared thoughtful for a moment. Then she snapped. "There's this awesome food truck a few blocks from here. They serve the best sandwiches. I know it's cold outside but I guarantee you the sandwiches are worth it." Bulma stood up and moved to get her coat. She saw Vegeta slowly rising to his feet. "Let's go. It gets crowded around this time."

The walk to the food truck was mostly silent. Bulma would point out a few things in the shops that surrounded the area, but there was not much said otherwise. The food truck was two blocks down from studio. There were a few patrons, but it was not overly crowded. Bulma knew that would change once lunch hour started. She tugged on Vegeta's sleeve and subtly pulled him along.

When they got to the front of the line at the truck, Bulma looked over the menu. "Um, I'll have a Reuben with extra dressing and sauerkraut. I want it dripping. I'll also have a bottled water. What do you want, Vegeta?"

Vegeta looked away from Bulma and up at the menu. "I can create any sandwich?" he asked. The server nodded, looking expectantly at him. "Very well. I'll have two hot subs with salami, pepperoni, ham, provolone, lettuce, mayonnaise, mustard, tomato, and onion on white bread."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "You're going to eat two subs? Their sandwiches are already huge."

"I have a big appetite, woman," Vegeta said blandly. Bulma blinked when she noticed the small smirk he gave her as the server handed them a number. She rolled her eyes and walked over to a bench to wait. Vegeta took a seat beside her and looked around.

They sat in silence, taking in the sights around them. It was windy and overcast. The air was not as cold as it had been earlier that morning, but the wind chill was still a factor. Bulma began pondering what she was going to do about the color red.

"The color red..." she whispered under her breath. "It's such a contradictory color."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

Bulma looked over at him. "Well, red can mean a lot of things and some of them are a contradiction. When you think of red, what is the first thing that comes to mind?"

Without hesitation, Vegeta answered. "Blood."

"Well, okay. When I first think of the color I think of love. I think of passion. You think of blood. Branching off of that, one could add war and fire. War, fire, and blood at the same time as love and passion? It just doesn't seem right."

Vegeta nodded. He could see where she was going with it. "Why can't they all have a similar theme?" He saw Bulma look back at him, silently asking him to explain. "Couldn't fire and passion mean the same thing? You burn with desire. Desire can lead to love. Would you go to war and spill blood for the one they love? Red is power and strength. Red is rage and erotic."

Bulma glanced around at their surroundings, taking in everything Vegeta had said. His explanation had been remarkably thorough and intriguing. Red was such a complicated color. She closed her eyes and began imagining a few notes. It should be powerful and energetic, but sensual and passionate as well. It should have the highest highs and the lowest lows. It should... She was drawn from her thoughts by Vegeta shoving a bag under her nose. She glanced up at him. When had he gotten up?

"Our sandwiches are done already? But I didn't... Vegeta, you didn't have to pay. This was supposed to be my treat." Bulma stood up and took the bag from Vegeta. He held his own bag and started walking back towards the studio. Bulma fell into step beside him. She opened her bag and inhaled the smell of its contents. "I love the smell of a fresh Reuben."

When they arrived back in the studio, the front receptionist had a message for Bulma. "It was from the bridal shop, Miss Briefs. They said something about another shipment of dresses that you might like to look at. They're holding them all for you."

The pianist snorted as she took the small note the receptionist gave her. There was a name and number on it. She would have to send the information to Juu and have her make the appointment. Best if I just hurry up and get it out the way. She rolled her eyes to herself. I don't think I'm supposed to think of my wedding as some sort of duty. I'm pretty sure that isn't normal.

Vegeta could see Bulma had retreated into her thoughts as the made it back to their reserved studio. Vegeta sat down across from Bulma and immediately began eating. Bulma was slower to unwrap her sandwich. She was fiddling with her phone. It did not matter much to Vegeta. He usually ate in silence anyway. Bulma did most of the talking and the most he gave back were grunts. He was always listening, though.

"Apparently I get an exclusive look at a boutique's wedding dresses. I should tell Juu to just pick one for me. I don't feel like doing such a thing." Bulma took a huge unladylike bite of her sandwich. Her eyes rolled back and she sighed contentedly. "I haven't had one of these in so long. Diets are the bane of mankind."

"Diet? Woman, you don't eat enough."

Bulma was surprised he spoke. Vegeta never spoke while he ate. "I do eat. It's just that I prefer to watch what I eat. Eating a Reuben sandwich every day isn't exactly going to be advantageous to my health. If I could, I would. We can't all be blessed with metabolism like yours," she said. It still amazed her at how much Vegeta could put away. His eating habits were definitely reminiscent of Goku's. The only difference was that Vegeta had far and away the better manners of the two.

"Ridiculous," Vegeta grumbled. He finished off one sandwich and balled up the aluminum it had been wrapped in. He quickly went for his next sandwich. "Isn't a wedding supposed to be every woman's dream? You make it seem like work." He took a bite of his sandwich.

This must be the most he's ever spoken while eating. We're actually conversing. I feel almost honored, Bulma thought with a chuckle. Then she realized what Vegeta said.

"It is work. I have to pick out a dress, pick out dresses for my bridesmaids, pick a venue, pick a cake, pick invitations, send out invitations, make seating charts, pick decorations... There's just so much to do and I know Frieza isn't going to help. Hell, the only input I've received from him is to make sure the reception has an open bar. Weddings just don't happen." Bulma took another angry bite of her sandwich as she thought of the how unhelpful Frieza was.

Vegeta shrugged. "Why not just elope? Save yourself the trouble of planning such a frivolous affair."

"Frieza would never go for that. He's always wanted a spectacle. I don't know. Maybe I'd care more if... Never mind." Bulma stopped talking and stared down at her sandwich. Her appetite was not what it had been.

The artist sensed her unease. He looked down at the last bit of his sandwich. "If you've been given all the choice, use it to your advantage." He stuffed the last bit in his mouth.

Bulma watched Vegeta chew before he got up to throw his trash away. He's right. I've been given creative control. I should abuse that power to the fullest extent. She smiled to herself and continued eating. Her mood was improving already.

"So when can I see your work?"

Vegeta looked over at her. "My work? You want to see my art?"

"Well, you're here with me helping me write the music. Aren't I entitled to see your visions of my music?" Bulma asked. Vegeta narrowed his eyes and looked away from her. She smiled and leaned forward at the table. "Come on, Vegeta. Are you afraid I might not like it?"

"I don't care if you do or you don't, woman. I don't need your approval on my work." Vegeta caught sight of her big blue eyes. He sighed and turned his head away from her again. "You're going to keep whining, aren't you?" He saw Bulma smile mischievously out of the corner of his eye and sighed in annoyance again. He grunted his answer.

Bulma clapped her hands together. "Thank you, Vegeta! I'll be paying you a visit when you least expect it so be prepared."

Juu sat on a sofa in the bridal boutique. She kept glancing at her watch and tapping her foot on the floor. Bulma was late. I don't know why I expected her to be on time. I expected Chichi to be late. She has a baby. It's understandable. What is keeping Bulma? She was irritated.

The door to the boutique swung open and a baby stroller was pushed through. Chichi followed it inside and looked around. She saw Juu and moved towards her. She noticed the sour expression on Juu's face. "I assume Bulma is late."

The blonde sighed as she got to her feet. "You assume correctly. Come on. I'll at least get this viewing started." She motioned for Chichi to follow her.

The red-haired stylist saw her coming and smiled. "Is Miss Briefs here? Should we get the dresses out?" She sounded so eager to get started.

"She hasn't arrived yet. However, you can bring out the dresses so that when she finally arrives we may get started as quickly as possible."

The stylist nodded and turned around. She led Juu and Chichi to a large white room in the back of the boutique. There was a changing room along with a sitting area. A pedestal was in the center of the room, surrounded by plush chairs. The stylist motioned for Juu and Chichi to be seated.

"Is there anything I could get you? Something to drink, perhaps? And are there any particular styles Miss Briefs would prefer?" The stylist smiled at the two women.

Juu nodded curtly. "Champagne if you have it. There are only three styles she will be considering: sheath, mermaid, and ball gown. She isn't opposed to any of them having some color to them. That will be all."

Bulma swung the door to the boutique open. She was at least 30 minutes late. She could already hear Juu's admonishing her about her tardiness. She can't really be mad at me. I was working, she thought as she glanced around the quiet boutique. Juu and Chichi were nowhere in sight. She saw a stylist come from the back and smile at her.

"Oh Miss Briefs! We've been expecting you. Follow me, please." The stylist immediately turned around. Bulma skipped forward to catch up with her.

As she walked into the white room, Bulma was first seen by baby Gohan. The little boy smiled toothlessly at her and clapped. She smiled and moved towards him, ignoring the evil glare she got from Juu. "Hey, little man!" Bulma hefted Gohan into her arms and hugged him. She glanced down at Chichi. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"Besides Juu scaring these poor women, not a thing," Chichi answered. Bulma looked over at Juu. The blonde was still staring icily at her as she finished off the champagne in her flute. She held it out and the stylist retrieved it. Bulma shook her head and took the middle seat.

The stylist returned with Juu's refilled champagne. After handing it off to the blonde, she looked happily at Bulma. "Would you like to get started, Miss Briefs?"

Bulma nodded. "Let's see the sheath dresses first," she replied. The stylist went back and wheeled out a rack of dresses. Bulma got to her feet and went to look at them. She picked out four dresses that caught her eye. The stylist hung them up on a separate rack and wheeled the remaining dresses away. Bulma looked over the dresses she chose. Only one really made her look twice. She picked it up and headed to the fitting room. After she dressed, she came back out and stood on a pedestal.

Chichi observed the dress with a critical eye. It was a relatively simple beaded and embroidered slip gown with a sweetheart neckline and jeweled shoulder straps. It also had a chapel train. "It's strange. It's like it's plain but at the same time it has so much going on. What do you think, Juu?"

"I agree." Juu finished her champagne and sat the glass down. "It's definitely not your style. But, this is your wedding. You have to like the dress. How do you feel about it?"

Bulma turned around on the pedestal and looked at herself in the mirror. They were right. The dress wasn't her. Truthfully, Bulma had no idea where to start. She frowned and stepped off the pedestal. The stylist had wheeled in the rack of mermaid dresses. Bulma walked over to them and looked through them. None of them were her style either. The ball gown dresses came in. She found two that she liked but once they were on she immediately decided she did not like them.

The stylist saw Bulma growing frustrated. Biting her lip, she left the room. When she came back, she was carrying a dress. Bulma was coming out of the changing room when she laid eyes on the dress. She paused and stood completely still. The stylist inwardly smiled when she noticed Bulma's face. "This dress did not come with the dresses that the designers sent us. A little known designer asked us to carry it. I was just about to put it on display, but I'll let you see it first. What do you think? I believe it is in your size."

The pianist slowly took the dress from the stylist. Without a word, she turned and went back to the changing room. When she returned, she stepped on the pedestal. Juu raised an eyebrow at the dress. She looked at the stylist.

"Well, it's a taffeta ruched peplum gown. It has a soft sweetheart neckline and full pickup skirt with bubble tiers in the back. The skirt is accented with light blue flowers made of taffeta and tulle. It's quite simple, but I think it complements your hair very well, Miss Briefs."

Bulma stared at herself in the mirror. She could definitely see herself getting married in such a dress. All the other dresses she'd tried on were either plain white or champagne-colored. She never thought she would find one that complemented her hair so well. The pianist faced Juu and Chichi. "Well? What do you think?"

"I love it," Juu said without hesitation. That was the truth. It was a beautiful dress and it seemed like it had been tailor-made for Bulma. "You'll definitely need a few alterations, though. It looks a little loose up top."

Bulma smiled sneakily. "I can't wait to pick out the bridesmaids dresses." She laughed at the look Juu gave her before turning her attention to Chichi. "You don't mind being one of my bridesmaids, do you?"

Chichi smiled and shook her head. "Of course not! I'd be honored. I've never been the bridesmaid before."

"You're lucky you got to be the bride first," Juu intoned. She pulled her phone out of her purse. "Is this the dress you want?"

Bulma was still looking herself over in the mirror. The dress was so beautiful. It was the perfect dress for the perfect wedding. The smile faded from her face. Was this going to be her perfect wedding? This dress should be worn by someone who would feel as if she'd died and gone to heaven. I don't feel that way about getting married, she thought. But could she let the dress go?

"You only come across the perfect dress once, Bulma. Your face says it all. This is the one. Take it," Chichi said. She'd seen Bulma's inner turmoil written all over her face. The pianist seemed to think she did not deserve the dress.

"I'll get it," Bulma resolved. She turned towards the stylist. "What kind of alterations do I need?" she asked. The stylist clapped happily and walked forward.

The elevator door to Frieza's office opened up. The blonde receptionist looked up and saw the her boss walking in. There was a violet-haired woman hanging on his arm. It was not the first time the receptionist had seen Frieza with this woman and she was certain it would not be the last.

"Cancel all the rest of my appointments today, Lemlia. I'm going to be busy until closing," Frieza said. He began pulling the buxom woman along while she giggled.

Lemlia cleared her throat. "Well, um, I don't think it's wise to go back to your office at this moment, Mr. Cold," she said. Frieza stopped and glared at her, waiting on an explanation. "Miss Briefs is, uh, waiting for you in your office."

Frieza narrowed his eyes and cursed under his breath. The woman on his arm looked up at him questioningly. "Go wait for me in one of the empty offices. I'll call you when I'm done," he said.

"But..."

"Just do it." Frieza walked towards his office. He slowly opened the door and looked inside. Bulma was sitting behind his desk, swiveling around in his chair. She was looking out the large windows. Frieza admired her profile from his vantage point by the door. "This is a surprise," he said.

Bulma turned around in the chair. She smiled when she saw Frieza and stood up. "Hello, dear."

Frieza walked over to a closet and took off his coat. "You usually don't visit me at the office. What's the occasion?" He turned around and saw Bulma holding a piece of light blue cloth. "What's that?"

"It's the color I'm using for the wedding. I found my dress today. It's absolutely beautiful. I can't show you because it's supposed to be a surprise. However," Bulma walked over to him and held up the blue cloth, "this is what color your accents should be."

Frieza examined the cloth Bulma handed him. "So, I can get anything that's this color? Perhaps I should get my tux in this color. A frilly white shirt should go wonderfully..."

Bulma playfully hit Frieza's arm. "That is not funny. You better not show up wearing some atrocious outfit like that. You're only allowed a black or white tux. Your tie and vest should be this color." She reached up and fixed Frieza's disheveled collar. Her hands slowed as she noticed a dark mark on his otherwise pristine white collar. Bulma blinked a few times and then smiled at Frieza. "Well, that's really all I had to say. Is there anything you would like for dinner? I was thinking maybe some chicken or something."

"You might be eating alone tonight, Bulma. I'm swamped with work. I'll be staying at the penthouse tonight." Frieza wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'll be off early tomorrow. How about I take you out tomorrow night to make it up to you? Wherever you want to go and I'll take you."

Keeping the forced smile on her face, Bulma nodded. "That sounds great. Just remember to let me know when you turn in for the night," she said. Frieza nodded and pulled her into a hug. Bulma returned the hug until she caught whiff of a foreign scent. She pulled away from Frieza and patted his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow." Without waiting for him to respond, Bulma picked up her purse and left.

Vegeta stepped back away from the humongous canvas. He held a gigantic calligraphy brush in his hands. He used anything he could when he painted. He sat the brush down and walked over to a pan filled with a dark shade of blue oil paint. He dipped his hand in it and walked back towards the backdrop he was painting. With practiced tenderness, he put a few light strokes in the blank spot on the canvas. He stepped back and looked at the large backdrop again.

It was the final section of the entire backdrop for blue. Vegeta had made a scene out of various shades of blue. The painting depicted tranquility in a way that only Vegeta saw it. It was a calm landscape made of different shades of blue. The moon just happened to be on this section of the backdrop.

Satisfied with his work, Vegeta walked across the open room and picked up a towel. He managed to get most of the paint off his hands. He would need to properly wash them in order to get them completely clean. Just as he was heading to the bathroom, he heard a buzzing noise. Someone was outside.

Who could this possibly be? Vegeta sighed and glanced at a clock. It was close to 7pm. The sun had already set. He sighed and went to speaker.

"Who is it?" he asked gruffly. There was a moment of silence and Vegeta was getting ready to speak again.

"It's me."

Vegeta blinked. What was Bulma doing down here so late? "Take the freight elevator." He buzzed her in. He moved quickly to the bathroom and began scrubbing the paint from his arms and hands. He changed into a clean tank top and sweatpants. Just as he was finished dressing, he heard the elevator stop.

Bulma came through the freight elevator's gates and looked around. She was only on the second floor of the building. She had not been sure she was even in the right place until she heard Vegeta's voice on the speaker. The entire floor had been converted into a studio loft. On one end was what could only be described as an artist's studio. The other side had a small living area and kitchen. There was a circular staircase that led to what she assumed might've been a bedroom. She glanced around, not seeing Vegeta.

"Lost your way home, woman?"

Bulma looked above her. Vegeta was leaning on the railing that surrounded the floor above her. She shook her head and smiled. "No. I was just in the neighborhood. Juu told me you had a studio down here so I thought I'd come by. I'm not intruding am I?" She watched him walk towards the staircase and descend it. She squeezed the strap of her purse as she watched him come down.

"Of course not. I was just finishing the first backdrop." Vegeta gestured to his right towards the art part of the loft. He saw Bulma look at him hesitantly. "Well go ahead and look," he said gruffly. Bulma nodded and walked past him.

As Bulma examined the portion of the backdrop that Vegeta had finished, she thought about the music she had composed to go with the piece. The scene Vegeta had created using different shades of blue was magnificent. It's beautiful, she thought. After examining it, she glanced around the rest of the studio. The place was unbearably neat.

"You're so organized," Bulma mumbled mostly to herself as she walked around the room.

Vegeta crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He watched Bulma examine his unfinished work and paints. She was not shy about touching anything. "I detest clutter, woman. It's a miracle you get anything done in that studio of yours." He thought back to the disarray that Bulma's private studio had been in.

"It is organized clutter, Vegeta. I know exactly where everything is. I don't think I could function properly with everything being so... neat," Bulma said with a chuckle. She turned around to face him. "This is a nice place you have."

"Hn," was Vegeta's only response to her compliment. He resisted a smirk when she rolled her eyes. "Are you hungry, woman?"

"Now that you think about it, I'm starving. I haven't eaten since breakfast. All I had was a drink and some crackers after my dress fitting. Are you going to cook?" Bulma raised her eyebrows.

Vegeta leaned up off of the wall. "Woman, my culinary prowess extends no further than the microwave." He walked over to a cabinet in the small kitchen area. He pulled open a drawer and removed a bunch of menus. He spread them out on a table while Bulma approached. "Take your pick. They all deliver."

Bulma looked down at the menus. There was a wide variety of them. "Chinese, Mexican, Indian, Italian... I take it you've eaten at all of these places." She glanced up from the table to see Vegeta shrug. "Well what do you suggest?" she asked. Vegeta walked forward and picked up a green menu. He tossed it forward and it landed in front of Bulma.

"They're pretty decent," Vegeta said. "Their calzones aren't bad."

An hour later, Bulma and Vegeta were lounging in beanbags in front of his TV eating calzones and drinking beer. Bulma finished off her second beer and reached for a third. Vegeta watched her pop the can open and take a large swig of the pint. Once she was done, she placed the can down and picked up her second calzone. Vegeta inwardly smirked as he observed her eating habits.

Bulma noticed Vegeta's staring out of the corner of her eye. "What are you smiling about?" she asked through a mouth full of calzone.

"I do not smile, woman." Vegeta awkwardly straightened up, unhappy that he'd been caught watching her. "I was just observing you. We have eaten together numerous times and never once have your manners been lacking."

She realized what he was implying and scowled at him. "I'm just hungry. I told you that I haven't eaten all day. Besides, you say that I don't eat enough. I haven't eaten like this since I was in college." Bulma took another gulp of her pint. "Eating like this, I probably won't be able to fit in my dress."

"Dress?"

"I didn't tell you? I found my dream dress today." Bulma smiled as she thought about her dress. "It is so beautiful. I want to get married in it. I almost didn't get it."

"Why not?"

Bulma shrugged while chewing. She washed her food down with another gulp of beer. "I thought that a dress like that should be worn by someone who will be happy in it. If I wear it, chances are I'll be miserable. But it was just so beautiful." She sighed and mentally shrugged. "I don't wanna marry Frieza."

The admission was not a surprise to Vegeta. Anyone with eyes could see she was less than enthused about marrying the man. What surprised Vegeta was that she was talking about it so freely. "Then why did..."

"I think he's cheating on me," Bulma interrupted. Vegeta awkwardly swallowed his bit of food and took a sip of his own beer. He was also on his third. He saw Bulma was not done talking. "I actually know he's cheating on me. He's so shameless with it, too. It's like he doesn't even try to hide the signs. Remember the after party?"

Yes, I remember that party well, Vegeta thought. He did not vocalize his thoughts, choosing to just nod instead.

"Well, when we were leaving I saw him coming from the bar area. He had lipstick smudged on his face. I knew exactly what it was but I pretended I didn't. I saw him before I came here. He had lipstick on his collar and he smelled like some awful perfume. I know it wasn't mine because I never wear the stuff. God, he smelled terrible." Bulma crinkled up her nose. She stuffed the last of her calzone in her mouth and chewed furiously.

"If you know all of this, why do you stay with the man? Surely you're smarter than that, woman."

Bulma sat still as she finished chewing. She held up her left hand and looked at the ring adorning her finger. "Do you know what Frieza would do if I even suggested a break up?" She let out a humorless cackle. She grabbed her can of beer and got to her feet. She started walking around the loft, looking at everything. "So why do you still have this place?"

Vegeta watched her warily. She was obviously a bit tipsy. He got to his feet as well and followed after her. "This was my home for years. Plus, it serves as a place to work."

The pianist grunted in response. She came to a bookshelf filled with albums. She remembered what Chichi had said about Vegeta's albums. She looked at the black leather albums. He had at least 5 of them. Smirking, Bulma picked up one. "Picture album?" she asked, looking back at Vegeta. He growled and tried to take it from her. Bulma expertly dodged him and flounced away. "Chichi told me what you do when you're stressed." She skipped away from him.

Grumbling to himself, Vegeta followed after her. She polished off her can of beer and sat the empty can on a bookshelf. She made her way back to the beanbags and sat down. Vegeta remained standing and watched as Bulma looked over the pictures in his album. She raised an eyebrow as she flipped through the pages. While the pictures were indeed graphic, they were done quite tastefully.

Graphic and tasteful... How does that work exactly? Bulma turned the page a paused. She turned her head to try and understand the position the three women in the picture were in. She looked at Vegeta for answers.

Vegeta smirked at Bulma's confusion. "They were contortionists."

"I honestly can't tell which limb belongs to whom. How did they even accomplish this position?" Bulma glanced around the room. "You took all these pictures here?"

"Where else would I take them?"

"Stupid question." Bulma got up and made her way back to the bookshelf. She placed the album back in its place. She sighed and turned around.

Vegeta walked up behind her. "It is getting very late, woman. Shouldn't you be getting home? I wouldn't want your fiancé to come after me for keeping you out past your bedtime." He finished off his own beer.

Bulma frowned and slapped Vegeta on the arm. He did not laugh, but she could see that he was amused by her reaction. "I do not have a bedtime. I can go home whenever I feel like it. I'm a grown woman." She walked past him back to the beanbag and sat down. "Besides, Frieza isn't even at home. He's at the penthouse, probably fucking some broad."

"Who knew you were so foulmouthed, woman," Vegeta said. Bulma shrugged and sighed as she relaxed. "You should leave him."

The pianist raised her eyes to Vegeta. He was walking over to the other side of loft. Bulma let her eyes travel over his body. Vegeta was gorgeous. She'd noticed his good looks before but with him dressed down she could not help but stare. Sure, Frieza was handsome but there was something different about Vegeta's handsomeness. Maybe it was just the way he carried himself; like he was royalty or something.

That could be it, she thought. She raised her hand to look at her watch. Vegeta was right; it was well after midnight. I really should go.

Vegeta heard movement behind him. He turned his head to see Bulma putting on her heels. Once she had them on, she moved slowly towards the coatrack. Vegeta took notice of how she wobbled. She can't go home alone, he thought as he watched her. Sighing, he went to find his own shoes.

When she noticed that Vegeta was putting on sneakers and a hoodie, she stopped moving. "Where are you going?"

He snorted. "Woman, you are intoxicated."

"Well, it isn't like I'm driving. I'm just taking a cab. I'll be home in no time." Bulma smiled slyly. "You aren't worried about me, are you?"

"I worry about you like I worry about a toothache, woman." Vegeta turned off the lights, leaving them in the dark. He stepped up beside Bulma. "Let's go," he whispered in her ear. Bulma reached out and grabbed hold of his hoodie. She held on to his as they entered the elevator.

When the cab pulled up between their brownstones, Bulma was the first out. She stood on the sidewalk and looked up at her home. There was a single light on. She smiled to herself, knowing Puella had left it on for her. The housekeeper knew Bulma did not like walking into dark places. She turned around and saw Vegeta paying the driver.

"Vegeta, I was going to pay him!" she said loudly. Vegeta glared over at her as the cab pulled off. He blinked as Bulma looped her arm with his and pulled him towards her stoop. Bulma felt him stiffen and giggled. He was clearly shy about their proximity. When they got to her door, she quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside. She faced Vegeta. "Well..."

Vegeta gave her a blank stare. "Well?"

"Thanks for the food and beer. I had a nice time."

"You speak as if we are courting, woman."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "You speak as if you're from a different time. Who calls it courting anymore? But, no it was not a date. Just two friends spending time together. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

He gave her a smirk. "So I'm your friend now?"

"I thought we were friends." Bulma crossed her arms. "Aren't we friends?"

"I have no friends, woman."

Bulma laughed softly and stepped back outside to stand in front of him. "You're my friend, Vegeta." She gave him a small peck on the cheek. Vegeta's eyes were wide as she pulled back away from him. She looked surprised at her own actions. She took a step back from Vegeta. The two stood staring at one another. Bulma saw his gaze drop from her eyes to her lips. She was suddenly aware of how close they really were. She could feel his lips were almost on hers.

Then her phone started to vibrate, bringing them back down to reality. Bulma took out her phone and saw she had a message from Frieza telling her he was turning in. She stuffed it back in her purse and looked back at Vegeta. "I don't know what... I shouldn't have..." She looked away and ran a hand through her hair.

"Woman..."

"I didn't mean to... Oh god..."

"Woman!" Vegeta said loudly. Bulma's head snapped towards him. "It's fine. We're friends, remember?"

Bulma stared at him for what seemed like a long time. Then she nodded slowly. "I suppose we are." She took another step back and inside her home. "Good night, Vegeta." He simply grunted in response. Bulma smiled and closed the door. She leaned against it and heard Vegeta walk away. Sighing, she turned around and stared at the dim foyer. Shaking her head, she headed up the stairs to her room.

Is it wrong that I wanted it to happen?