Igniting The Fire
Chapter 7
They'd been arguing for a while. Something had been smashed; it sounded like a TV … He heard glass, anyway. Words flew out of her mouth that he never thought he'd hear her say. It was odd, but all the same, rather entertaining. Apparently they'd had a fantastic day at the baseball game with Trunks and then that buffoon tried it on with her again and she just … well, she barked and barked until he heard the poor son of a Namek surrender, begging for her to be quiet. But, no, she continued.
Vegeta wasn't one to prise into these pathetic earthlings' affairs, but as it happened, he was taking a quick—well deserved—nap in the garden when all hell broke loose between those two idiots. And, yes, his curiosity got the best of him, so he had to listen. Even if he didn't want to listen, her shrieking voice had got the entire neighbourhood peeking out of their windows.
The shouting got louder. No doubt that moron was being kicked out once and for all. Vegeta didn't doubt that that incessant creature would return to the woman in a matter of days. Something sparked in him when the thought of her welcoming him back again was raised. Nonchalantly, he lolled his head against the tree behind him, and waited, expectantly watching the front door to Capsule Corp.
"No, I'm sick of it. You need to get it into your head, Yamcha. N-O spells NO!" That was her again. Even louder still. He smirked when the orange band of light from the hall way shone on the grass. The door was open, ready for scar face's departure.
"I don't understand …" said Yamcha, backing out of the door.
"Urgh. Go before my head actually explodes, please." Only Bulma's dainty arm, pointing in the direction of the street beyond the compound, was visible for Vegeta to see.
"But, B?" Yamcha held his hands out imploringly, which only made Vegeta's smirk grow into a full grin.
"Go," Bulma yelled, and the patch of light disappeared when the door was slammed in Yamcha's face.
Yamcha sniffed and straightened his baseball cap, unfazed, before turning to walk to his car, catching sight of Vegeta, leaning against a tree. "I don't know what you're grinning for. This is all your fault." And he paced to his car, head down. If smoke did emit from human beings, Yamcha would have been surrounded by it.
The words Vegeta could have said would have only been a waste against that cretin. Instead, he chuckled to himself and sat down on the grass. Well, that was his entertainment for the day. To be perfectly honest, he was bored out of his mind. Sitting under a tree all day seemed more exhausting than a full day of training in the Gravity room. Back before he transformed, of course. The reason why he felt so exhausted was because he was trying God damn hard to get some sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts would override any sensation of tiredness. And, as usual, he would get lost in them until an hour had passed, and then another hour, then another one … It was so bloody frustrating, he felt forced to listen to his surroundings. Unfortunately, it was too good to be true, relishing in the white noise of the city, and it was only a matter of time before the banshee returned to spoil his peace. He hadn't planned on becoming so involved in her little debacle with scar face that he would listen intently for almost an hour. All the time he wondered: How hard was it to tell that idiot to leave? He could have killed him in a split second. There. Problem solved.
Vegeta frowned to himself. What had he become? Taking interest in that sort of shit. A cold shower was the first thing to came to mind.
A door slamming and a jingle of keys stopped Vegeta from thinking about cleansing himself in acid, and instead, he opened his eyes to see Bulma, flustered and red-faced, charging across the lawn. His first instinct was to camouflage himself in the foliage, but that would have taken some serious skill and better timing.
He was fast. Not that fast.
He watched as she stomped across the grass, straightening a large bag on her shoulder. She was pissed, alright. He'd seen that look before, many times. Best thing would be to stay away, but he was stuck. A thought tickled him. Could he possibly get her even more infuriated than she already was? It was an easy challenge that he was eager to accept, because, God damn it, he was bored. Besides, he felt quite comfortable being around her, and frankly, she seemed to be the only person on this rock that he could be himself with.
Kind of …
"Woman," he said, cocking his head and looking her up and down, as she continued to pace. Dressing decently was obviously something Earthlings did not know how to do. What was that vulgar, peach, frilly thing she was wearing? A dress?
She shook her finger at him. "Wrong time, buddy. Wrong time."
Aghast by her dismissal, Vegeta's blood boiled. She wasn't even going to stop when he was speaking to her? That wasn't how a prince was supposed to be treated. Eye contact at all times.
He stood back, trying to keep his cool. "Where do you think you're going?"
Bulma stopped a few yards shy of her jet, and heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Nowhere. Now you just go back to sleeping under your little tree."
"I was not sleeping," Vegeta said incredulously, narrowing his eyes at her.
Rummaging for her keys, and far too distracted to bother with whatever Vegeta was saying, Bulma muttered to herself. "I don't care what you're doing …" Then she proceeded to head for her jet, until, under the sheer force of her anger, her left flip flop came flying off her foot and swept under the jet.
Bulma cried out and threw her keys to the floor, before falling to her knees to have a look under the jet for the flimsy footwear. She was stretching under there for a minute or so, before she returned to the surface with a mucky looking flip flop in her hand. She dusted it down before slipping it back on her foot. As if her day couldn't get any worse, she couldn't place where she'd thrown her keys. Frantically, she spun round, scanning the floor until she felt dizzy and had to stop. When she composed herself and looked up, Vegeta was standing in her face, scowling, and holding out the keys at arm's length.
"Driving under the influence will only get you killed," he said, smirking and pulling the keys back out of her reach. This woman really was amusing. He could do this all day. Despite the fact that the day was almost over.
"I'm not drunk, asshole," Bulma said, snatching through the darkness for the keys.
"I didn't say you were. But you're fuelled with rage. That's obvious. " He crossed his arms and looked at her quizzically. Was there sweat trickling down her forehead?
"Oh, that's some super advice coming from the incredible hulk, over here," she said, guffawing, and rolling her eyes.
Before he could question who or what the incredible hulk was, she continued her rant. " I'm sick of people telling me what to do. Why don't they ever stop and think about what I want. Or, even better, back the hell away." Bulma finally got a hold of the keys and yanked them out of Vegeta's hands, while he stared at her blankly.
For a few seconds, while she searched through the ten or more keys that were stupidly on the one set, Vegeta thought about her words, and how familiar they sounded. Something intrigued him. There was more to it than just that Yamcha idiot. What was on her mind? Why did he care, to be precise? Well, what else was he going to do for the rest of the day?
He held his hand out, while Bulma continued to curse under her breath. He'd never heard such vile terms in his life, and he'd purged planets with the worst, most grotesque creatures you had ever seen. He figured it like this: If she thought her life was hard, as it was now, she needed to be exposed to hardship, because she really had no idea what a hard life was like. Bitterness and rage should have been the feelings he felt, but he just felt pity, and at the same time, a little bit of fondness.
"Stop whining and hand me the keys," he said, sparking her attention again.
Bulma snapped her head up, her eyes widened with disbelief. "No," she said, pulling the keys away from him, so he wouldn't even think about trying to snatch them again. "Get your own keys."
"Do you realise how foolish you sound. Believe me, woman, I will not be offering this ever again, so hand me the keys now." He gestured towards the keys again.
Bulma scrutinised him, narrowing her eyes, and keeping the keys well away from him. What was his game? "You're kidding?" She said, a weary edge to her voice.
He was losing his patience, so he quickly grabbed her arm, grasped the keys, opened the jet roof and chucked her in. It wasn't long before the squawking started again.
Bulma didn't even know what had just happened. Did she fly? The landing was too soft though. She lifted her head and swept her damp hair out of her eyes. She was in the passenger seat of the jet, and there was Vegeta. Climbing into the driver's seat?
No …
"Vegeta, don't you dare man-handle me like that ever again!" she said, pointing a finger at him, as he lowered himself into a sitting position.
"Be quiet, before I throw you onto something a little more concrete," he said, a flicker of a smirk on his face.
"What, like, your head?" Bulma folded her arms and slumped in her chair.
"No, like your arse."
Her eyes widened. "You're lucky I know how to deal with this kind of crap on a daily basis. Otherwise you'd be dead right now."
Vegeta laughed, turning the ignition on. He hadn't a clue where he would go, or why he was going, really. Maybe an idea would come to him sooner or later. The amount of times that woman had banged on about him telling her how he felt and what not, maybe the time was right. Not to talk about feelings, because that made him feel sick. He would, perhaps, tell her about his life. How he got to where he is today. She deserved that much, he felt.
Bulma sat looking out of the window, scowling like a spoilt child. All the while, she was hiding her utter, shameful glee from him. It was so unusual for Vegeta to want to do anything for her. It was nice, in a way. Initially, she wanted to be alone, and despite putting up her best front, Vegeta was the one person she didn't mind being with. Out of every one of her friends, Vegeta was the first person to come to mind. Was he her friend, though?
She watched him from her peripheral. Was he on drugs or something? He must have been. For him to actively seek her attention, and then offer to do this—whatever the hell it was—was just beyond belief.
Bulma bit her bottom lip, and returned to look out of the window. If this was Vegeta warming to her, then she didn't mind at all.
Outside, beyond the glare of the fog lights, it was complete darkness. A few particles of dirt flew by and splodged against the windscreen, but other than that, there was nothing to look at. Looking was all Bulma could do, anyway, because Vegeta wasn't a very good conversationalist, to say the least. They'd been flying round for over an hour, and it was getting really late. Bulma felt a bit apprehensive. Why didn't she think twice about getting into a vehicle, when Vegeta had offered to fly? Where was he taking her?
Oh God …
What if he was taking her so far away, so that no one would hear her screams when he killed her? Was she really that annoying to him? She shook her head lightly, catching Vegeta's eye. No, if he wanted to kill her, he would have done it there and then. That was a no brainer. No one could stop him. Why did she even think those things? Wasn't she past that?
The window was a little steamed up, so she wiped it with the sleeve of her cardigan, and then peered out of the glass to see … nothing.
That was it. If he was planning on going somewhere, she had to know where.
"Vegeta, we've been flying for a while now. I think we should go back," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. It had never occurred to her how attractive Vegeta looked doing normal things—like driving. It was a turn on, for some annoying reason.
His eye twitched, and he shook his head lightly. The silence wasn't too bad. He should have known that she'd break it so easily.
Bulma clucked her tongue and looked around the jet for something to do. There wasn't anything. Only Vegeta. "You know, your flying isn't half bad. I haven't feared for my life, at all."
The second the words left her mouth, the jet dipped about twenty feet, sending her stomach into her throat. She grabbed onto the seat and braced herself for impact, before she heard a sinister chuckle coming from beside her. When she looked up, Vegeta was holding onto the steering wheel tightly. Not because he, too, panicked, but because he was suffering from the effects of actual laughter.
Bulma, on the other hand, didn't find it too amusing. "Holy shit. Don't you dare do that again." But as she said it, the jet lowered, not as abruptly as the first time, but it lowered smoothly, as if coming in to land somewhere. She looked at Vegeta, who was fixed, staring at the darkness in front of him.
Again, Bulma pressed her face against the glass to get a look at where the hell they were, but still, nothing was clear enough for her to see.
The jet finally landed with a bit of a clunk, and amongst the fog lights, Bulma could see a mass of rocks, dirt and rubble, grouped with a small cloud of moths. Where the hell had he taken her? Was that it?
She swivelled, only to see an impassive expression on Vegeta's face, as he clicked the engine off. "Why've you stopped here? There's nothing here …" she said, her mouth open a little as she awaited his response. Any response would have been swell.
Vegeta switched the fog lights off, and flicked the lights on the dashboard, so that they weren't sitting in complete darkness. The soft orange glow reflected off both of their faces, only making him seem more God-like than ever; like a beam from the heavens was shining on just him.
He didn't want to respond to her question. She should have been able to figure it out for herself, but taken that her human eye sight was poor in comparison to his; he felt the need to answer.
For a few seconds, he sat still, absentmindedly staring out at the past, and he could see Bulma from his peripheral, leaning closer to the windscreen, as if she was missing something. She looked back at him helplessly, a deep crease in her brow.
Still looking dead ahead, Vegeta answered her question. "This … is where I fought in the battle with Cell."
It was like a sudden switch had been pressed in Bulma's head, and she instantly reclined in her seat, and gazed at the rocky terrain outside. She hadn't known. Well, she'd seen the broadcast, but it sure didn't look like what it did now. Not that she could see much, with it being dark and all … That wasn't why he had taken her there, though, was it?
"This is where the Cell games took place?" she said. Cell sure knew how to pick 'em.
He briefly nodded.
"Oh … but why have you stopped here?"
"I thought it would help," Vegeta said. His chest warmed, as he thought about what he'd just said. Like he had taken a step away from his pride for a moment, and spoke his mind for a change. It didn't feel as bad as he thought it was going to feel.
Stunned, Bulma blinked a couple of times, not sure of how to respond to Vegeta opening up to her. Could you call it that? Sure, it had happened before, but that was after an entire bottle of whiskey. "I see …" was the only practical thing she could think to say. What else was she supposed to say? She wasn't there. It wasn't like she could have said 'ah, yes, I remember that particular rock,' and nod appreciatively at their surroundings.
Vegeta pinched his brow. Bulma was beginning to see how physically hard it was for him to express his thoughts and feelings. After all this time, she had never seen him make any effort to do so. This was new, and a little bit nerving.
"The majority of the time, the battle grounds are no longer here, after I've fought on the front line."
The engine made a ticking sound. It was cooling down from the long drive, Bulma thought, her eyes flittering to the dash board.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"When I purged planets for Frieza, the planet was either obliterated, or completely stripped of its earth, ready for selling." He quickly glanced at her, quite content to see that he'd got her full attention. She was listening to him, and she was interested in what he was saying. "When I was a warrior, I was taught to never look back."
"But you still are a warrior—"
"I'm no warrior. Not anymore." He looked down at his palms, and then squeezed them into tight fists.
"Sometimes it helps, revisiting places that jump start emotion," she said, looking back outside the window. She wanted to open the window, but there was quite a harsh wind, which sounded a little scary, especially in such an open space. If Vegeta wasn't there, she would have been freaking out.
"There is already life forming again here." Vegeta said, returning to look out the window.
Bulma couldn't see a thing, but she knew he was probably right. "That's earth for ya. You can beat it up all you want, but it'll always come back stronger." She paused. "Sorta like you, I guess."
"I failed here, Bulma."
Just hearing him say her name made her stomach flutter. She leaned closer to him, and was thankful to find him acting completely unfazed. "You didn't fail. Cell is dead, and we have you to thank for that. Hey, even I deserve a bit of recognition," she said, puffing her chest up triumphantly.
"You did nothing," Vegeta said scornfully.
Bulma recoiled, and stuck her hands out. "Um, hello? I created that awesome Saiyan armour for everyone."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Which was torn to pieces by Cell's rampant offspring."
Bulma threw her hands up. "I didn't know those guys were gunna show up, did I?" She sighed. "Jeez. You make a bit of effort to help save the world …" She drifted away when she noticed Vegeta's eyes were glistening. Oh God. Was he crying? "Hey, you OK?" Any more stress, and she was pretty sure she would have been the person crying. Not Vegeta.
"I'm fine. Stop asking me that," he said, turning towards her to see her reading into his expression.
Giving a small heave of relief, when she realised Vegeta was in fact not crying at all, Bulma held her hands up in defence. "Ok, ok. Sorry." Damn, she was a little too concerned for him. Usually she wouldn't notice it, but how could she not realise the cotton in her hands, which she was trying to wrap Vegeta up in. That was what being a mother had done to her …
"Stop apologising," he snapped.
Why did she have to apologise when she hadn't done anything wrong? This woman, who would always go out of her way to help him, was apologising to him?
"Erm, Ok," Bulma said, taken aback by the venom in his voice.
The conversation between them had dried out pretty quickly, and before long, Bulma had resorted to biting her nails. So much for Vegeta opening his heart to her … What did she honestly expect? When she glanced over at him again, he was looking up at the stars, his dark eyes wide and transfixed.
Yep, definitely on drugs.
Did Vegeta even know how to behave amongst a friend? True, she dearly wished she was more than that, but it was a start … if you skipped the part where the friends had sex and conceived a child …
"When you worked for Frieza … Did you have any … friends?" she said sheepishly and in between bites of her nails.
"Not really," he said quickly.
"Associates?"
Vegeta looked at her suspiciously. What was she up to? "I had fellow warriors. Friends are just a hindrance."
"Yeah, that bald guy was an ass."
"Nappa was not my friend," he said sternly, scowling at Bulma.
"I dunno. You guys seemed to get along great—"
"I killed him," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. Had she forgotten about that?
Not really wanting to hear, or be reminded of Vegeta's mass murdering days, Bulma switched the tone a little. "Hey, let me tell you … The amount of times I've wanted to kill Goku." She mimed cocking a gun and then pulling the trigger.
"We share something in common, then," Vegeta said, watching her and being slightly turned on by her behaviour.
Bulma stopped. "Hmm … I wouldn't say that. The difference is, buddy, I'm only kidding."
"Yes. Kakarrot is already dead."
"Nice and subtle, as always, Vegeta," Bulma said, shaking her head.
The wind rattled the exterior of the jet, sending shivers down Bulma's spine. All she had to do was look over at Vegeta, who was finally wearing that nice, purple polo shirt she had bought him a while back, and she felt safe. Unusual, considering the amount of people he had killed in the past …
She pulled her cardigan around her. "Sure is creepy out here, huh?"
"Not really," Vegeta said, shrugging a little.
"But when you think about what happened here … Now it's so quiet and deserted."
Sudden bumps appeared all up and down Vegeta's arms, and he didn't feel so relaxed anymore. It was strange to think of the lives that were lost here, and all the power that was drained, and all the blood that was spilled. And, yes, when he looked outside at the large empty space and the huge canyon of earth from when Gohan finally defeated Cell, it was a bit eerie.
"It's crazy," Bulma continued, "when I talk about this kinda stuff to my friends, they don't really want to hear it." Whether Vegeta was looking at her or not, she knew he was listening to her every word. "I find it so interesting … how this planet can continue to grow and flourish after everything that's happened to it."
"There's nothing interesting about it. It's a constant life cycle," Vegeta said, catching her beauty, as she gazed up at the stars.
"It goes beyond that, though," she muttered.
It was true. The planet was stronger than he thought. The planet Vegeta had been destroyed easily. He wondered. If the people of Vegeta were even half as united as the people on Earth, would the planet have still been around today? It was strangely annoying dwelling on what could have been. The facts were the in front of him, as horrible and realistic as they were … He'd suffered a brutal, brutal past, and yet, here he was, sitting relatively peacefully with an earthling woman, who he was growing fonder of by the day.
"Scar face," he said, bringing Bulma back down to earth.
"Huh?"
"If he harms you, I can kill him instantly." Vegeta quickly turned away from Bulma, as she smirked.
It was becoming more and more obvious that Vegeta had feelings for her, and just the little gestures like that—little in the sense that it was something for her, not the fact he was offering to slaughter someone for her—which sent her stomach flipping, and her skin tingling. Forget roses, or chocolates. Just have someone killed. It's the most romantic gesture anyone could offer-
Bulma snapped out of her day dream, and then really thought about what Vegeta had said. Yamcha harming her? No man had ever harmed her … "Yamcha wouldn't hurt me, Vegeta."
And with her response, Vegeta stared at the floor, not forgetting the night before, when he wrapped his hands around her neck.
Bulma gasped, not meaning for him to think about what happened. Besides, she knew he wouldn't have hurt her. He didn't hurt her. "Vegeta, I can handle myself." Then she grinned. "You don't have to be so jealous, y'know."
His lifted his head up and shot her a deadly glare. "My hatred for him has nothing to do with you."
Bulma laughed. "Yeah, right. Sure it does. You can't stand him hanging around me … Just admit it," she crossed her arms and leered towards him.
A blush appeared on his cheeks. "He's a pest. I've killed him before. I can kill him again!"
"Ok, tough guy. Calm down … digressing won't help the situation."
Boiling with anger, Vegeta felt more than eager to fly out of the jet, but something was stopping him. He certainly hadn't finished what he'd come to do.
Several minutes later, Bulma was growing uncomfortable with the silence, so she reached for the radio dial, and tuned through a number of crackly stations.
"What do you think you're doing," Vegeta said, looking at her as if she'd just slapped a kitten.
"There's an amazing station that plays white noise kinda stuff. Y'know, relaxing background noise," she said, still tuning through the channels.
Vegeta couldn't help but notice the pink, stringy underwear peeking out of her skirt thing, as she was sat forward. He looked away and huffed.
"Well you're not exactly the chatty type!" Bulma said, leaning back, allowing the noise of waves lapping and seagulls calling to drown the jet.
Looking at the radio in disgust, as if it was personally the radio's fault, Vegeta reached for the dial to turn the damn thing off. Peaceful? He'd rather listen to her and scar face nattering at each other than listen to this shit.
Bulma slapped his hand before he could reach the dial. He was pleasantly surprised by her speed.
"Just give it a chance," she said, closing her eyes, feeling the sounds.
Uncomfortably, Vegeta slowly mirrored Bulma's actions and closed his eyes, allowing the sounds to soothe him. After a few minutes, he did feel … quite relaxed-
"You know … This is like a date … sitting here together, listening to relaxing sounds …" Bulma said.
Peering out of one eye, Vegeta saw Bulma still lolling back, her eyes shut and a little smile on her face. The annoying creature. Just as he was drifting off, she had to announce the most stupid, unnecessary and pointless thing ever.
"It's not a date."
"I said it's like a date."
"No, it isn't."
"Well, of course it isn't. We're not even friends, are we?" After getting no response, Bulma prodded Vegeta in his arm, and she had to stop herself from feeling around his bicep. "Are we, Vegeta?"
Why couldn't she just shut up? "No," he said, finally, batting her hand away.
"What are we, then?"
Opening his eyes, and leaning forwards, Vegeta accepted that trying to get some rest was not going to happen with this woman around. "We're parents of a half breed brat."
"Trunks, Vegeta. His name is Trunks." That man was constantly trying to get under her skin. Why did he have to label their son as 'brat'? What sort of father did that … Oh, of course.
"Terrible name," he said.
The sounds on the radio shifted to 'the sounds of the amazon', and Vegeta instantly noticed that monkeys certainly did not call from the ocean … He'd learnt that much about this planet.
Bulma scoffed. "Well I don't remember you standing there with a list of names … Oh, that's right. You were in space."
Was that it? Was she finally taking her rage out on him, for not being there for the birth of their son? Shame washed over him at the thought of her dealing with all of that. Then again, she was clearly strong enough to handle that otherwise she wouldn't have been around to tell the story. It was hard to deny how … impressed he was with her.
"I had to," he finally said.
"It doesn't matter, anyway," she said, waving her hand dismissively.
She was looking out the window. Obviously she felt that it wasn't important, his absence at such a crucial time. But it was. It did matter to him now. He was a hate filled warrior, only striving to be the best. Now that he was no longer a warrior, he could see his own flaws. And they shone, blinding him. It was hard to look past how much of a failure he was.
"I'll be there for him for as long as I'm needed—"
"Vegeta, you'll always be needed … Trunks needs a father in his life. Not just some guy who appears for a couple of years and then vanishes into space."
"I can't—"
"Why not?"
"You wouldn't understand."
He didn't want to explain it, because he didn't really know how to. There was nothing stopping him, but himself. Always. He couldn't fight himself, so he just worked alongside.
"Vegeta?" Bulma arched an eyebrow and looked at him, like he'd said the dumbest thing.
"I can't stay here forever. I don't belong here. Never will. I'm Saiyan. Not Earthling. I've very little concern for this place or its inhabitants …"
"I want you to stay here," Bulma said, blatantly exposing her feelings to him. She didn't really care anymore. A couple of years ago, the thought of rejection made her feel sick, but now she knew how to deal with it, especially when it came from Vegeta. It was definitely unacceptable, but she could handle it well.
And as if he could read her mind, he sat there and shook his head solemnly. It was a 'no' again. Oh well, Bulma sighed inwardly.
"Ok, but if you ever change your mind," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're always welcome at Capsule Corp." She smiled.
He didn't expect the feel of her skin on his. Quickly, he shrugged her hand off his shoulder, hearing a small sigh from her, and he said, "That won't be necessary."
So, that was it. A shrug and a snarl, and their conversation was over. The worst part of all of it was, Bulma felt a sense of relief envelope her body. So what if Vegeta wasn't prepared to stay with her, right now. They had at least a few years to work on it, and judging by his behaviour now, she had hope that he would continue to warm to her. No matter how badly she wanted him to feel deeply for her, and show their son the love and attention he needed, she was prepared to wait. Sure, the majority was unrealistic and far from comfortable for Vegeta (she couldn't change him completely, and didn't want to) but she was … not happy, but OK, to work with what they had.
Bulma managed to smile. "I guess you being here now, alive, is good enough for me," and with all that hope building in her heart, she took the very conscious decision to lay her head on Vegeta's shoulder.
He tensed, but didn't move. Whether it was because he physically couldn't, she didn't know. Everything seemed to melt, apart from Vegeta's rigid shoulder, and all the stress and hurt from the evening drifted out of her mind, and flew somewhere far into the distance. All that mattered, was the warmth of their bodies connecting.
It was where she was supposed to be. Next to him. But as her eyes fell upon the tiny, red digits, glowing on the dash board, showing 1:15am, she regrettably knew that the night was drawing to a close.
"Man, we should get back," she said, followed by a yawn.
The words were out there, sitting there for both of them to observe, but neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to.
Vegeta pinned it down to some sort of witchcraft, as usual. Assuming that the music had cast a spell on his body, paralysing his muscles, so that she could attack him like this. And make him feel so … so calm.
Subtly, he turned his head, and his nose brushed her hair, which smelt of fresh mint leaves, and … a little bit of sweat. It was pleasant, though. He guessed the sweat was from the earlier brawl with scar face.
Just to make sure, he lifted his hand a few inches away from his lap. No, he wasn't under a spell, and wasn't paralysed.
And he wasn't prepared to disturb the peace between them. It had all happened so fast, he had no time to evade it. Instead, he closed his eyes. Only the faint echo of howler monkeys, the chirp of tropical birds, and the soft rustle of trees, was left to play in the jet.
A humid haze hung over the jet in the early hours of the morning. Vegeta groaned, and inhaled a lump of wet air, before slowly coming to. The air was hot and thick, and Vegeta could feel his shirt sticking to him. Groggily, he opened his eyes to notice that he was still in the jet. Encased, in the middle of a deserted area, where the sun was glaring down on him. It was like waking up after the Cell games all over again.
He went to open the window, but found that it was already open. God, it was hot. The bones of his back felt a bit sore, and his thighs felt numb. As he tried to shift the weight onto his backside, there seemed to be some pressure on his thighs, making it hard for him to do anything.
It was like a film of plastic was hanging in front of him. Everything seemed to look fuzzy and distorted. But when he saw whose head was resting on his lap, it was as if the plastic film evaporated into thin air, and his visual senses had repaired themselves completely.
He stiffened when he saw how close her head was to his morning glory. God damn that woman. Why did she have to treat him like a living pillow? He was not a pillow! Between the roaring heat, lack of oxygen, his morning erection, and Bulma's face dangerously close to it, the day seemed to take off on a good start, indeed. Just superb.
There had to be a way to remove her from his lap. She had to be removed.
Maybe his irrational behaviour got the better of him, as he merely nudged his thigh. Forgetting that she was so fragile, his 'nudge' appeared to send her four foot into the air, nearly smacking the roof of the jet.
When Bulma came crashing back down on to Vegeta's lap, her elbow colliding with his awake manhood, Vegeta had to hold his breath, in case he had actually died …
Bulma lifted herself up on her palms and rubbed her eyes, while Vegeta blindly grasped for the door handle, opened it and tumbled out of the jet, landing on the dry, hot rubble.
"Whu—Why is it so hot?" Bulma said, slipping back into reality. She blinked a few times, noting the sudden gust of air, and looked out at the heat waves rippling across the rocks outside.
It was day time? How long had she slept? And where was Vegeta?
As she turned to take a look at the time, she heard a few rocks crumbling, and her attention was quickly drawn to the jet door, which was left wide open. She loosened her shirt, which was stuck to her skin, and she hovered over the edge of the jet to survey her surroundings.
Vegeta was on the floor, crippled over in pain, his eyes wide open, and he was muttering words Bulma wished she wouldn't have heard.
What the hell was he doing? "Vegeta … Are you ok?" she asked from the driver's seat of the jet, suspicion and worry flowing through her.
"Woman, do not ask me that question!" he roared, getting to his knees, and breathing hard.
If his eyes would have widened any more, they would have fallen out of their sockets. She asked him if he was OK? After him telling her not to ask him that God damn question. She did it again. What was wrong with her? Did he look OK? The heat pulsing on his crotch was incredibly painful. He couldn't help covering his dignity. She must not see it on any account!
"Well, you don't look OK," Bulma affirmed, trying to look at what he was hiding.
"There is your answer then," he said between rasped breaths. God, it hurt. Cell could slap him across the face any day … but this …
Before he could try and compose himself, he saw Bulma clambering out of the jet and start advancing towards him.
"Don't come near me," he shouted, scooting backwards on his backside, travelling over quite a few sharp stones.
She stopped and looked at him quizzically, trying to determine the problem. "I'm just trying to hel—"
She stopped and clasped a hand around her mouth when she saw what Vegeta was trying to protect. He may have been alien, but he was still male. If it was hot before, Bulma felt that the temperature had risen to an unbearable high in the last ten seconds. "I'm so sorry, Vegeta," she said, stifling her laughter.
"Just get away," he said, covering his manhood with both hands.
The sight, the heat, and the situation were just too much. Bulma had to drop to the floor and relish in the joy of free laughter. And for once it wasn't on her part.
Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her. "Oh yes, laugh it up, while you still can."
A tear ran down her face, and she wiped it away, before getting back to her feet.
The sun was bright, she noticed, as she felt it burning her pale skin. A surge of panic washed through her at the thought of Trunks wondering where his mother had gone.
She turned round and leaned into the jet to check the time.
As she did so, Vegeta watched her carefully. Why did she have to stick her arse in the air like that? He looked down at his sore crotch, noting that it was very determined to remain standing. Damn that woman. She wasn't helping his situation. Forcefully, he tore his eyes away from her behind, and instead, watched the ripple of the heat waves in the distance. Not only was this place remembered by one embarrassing moment in his life, it was now home to another.
A small drop of sweat was irritating him, as it travelled down his neck and under his shirt. Against his will, his eyes edged back to the sight of Bulma's backside, and he sighed. What was the point?
Bulma turned round and sighed also. "Oh, man … Guess we're not using this to get home," she said, thumbing the jet. "The battery is dead. We must have left a light on or something …"
"Don't get any ideas, woman," Vegeta said, alarmed by the look in her eyes. "You're going to have to find your own way back." No way was he flying her back when he was in this … predicament.
"What?" Bulma took a few steps towards him. "No. You can take me back. I really need to get back to Trunks. He probably won't even know who I am anymore."
There was a look of despair in her eyes that Vegeta couldn't ignore. But, still, he wasn't going near her when he was like this.
He shook his head. "Woman, I am not going to carry you when—"
"Oh …" Bulma grinned and tapped her nose. Then she slumped to the floor. "Well, we can't sit out here for however long that is going to take …"
Vegeta took a quick glance under his hand. Damn. Still there … "That's your problem," he said, managing a small smirk.
After sitting in the heat for a few minutes, several yards away from one another, Bulma decided she couldn't take it anymore. They were sitting around, when she could easily be flown home to see her son in a matter of minutes. The heat was definitely getting to her. Her mind was conjuring up ideas that she wished it wouldn't. And before she could stop herself, her thoughts came tumbling out of her mouth without warning.
"You know … there's a way we can get rid of that," she said, blushing and looking away from Vegeta as his mind processed what she was suggesting.
Oh, great. Why did she have to say that? Stupid, stupid Bulma. She was a grown woman, not a horny teenager! Vegeta would only reject her. She knew that better than anything. But it was so hot, and to be honest, she was feeling a little depraved lately. Where was a bottle of water when you needed it?
Vegeta recoiled in disgust, covering himself even more, if that was possible. "Don't be so vile! I'm not going to be the father of another half breed." Somehow, that being his only concern worried him. Why not the fact that he was to stay away from her completely? Don't get him wrong, he would love nothing more than to throw her into the jet and have his way with her, but what would the past months, of restraining himself, have been for?
"Just a suggestion," Bulma said under her breath, folding her arms.
"Keep your suggestions to yourself," Vegeta spat. It was the best way to keep her away from him.
Oh, but Bulma wasn't going to give up that easily. If Vegeta wanted a fight, then that was what he'd get. Slowly, she unbuttoned her shirt, and fanned herself with her hand. "It's too hot out here," she said, flashing a lascivious smirk when she caught Vegeta staring, agog.
"Will you stop whining …" He turned away from her. What had she become? A monster, that's what. Had he done that to her? Was it his influence that had turned her into a demon?
A layer of sweat thickened on his top lip, and he licked it off, wincing from the horrible, salty taste. It was a living hell. He'd seen what hell was like. Only for a bit. But this was far worse. His crotch was still aching, and now he didn't know whether it was pain or lust, and he was sweating from head to toe. It was like he'd rapidly caught a deadly fever. And it was all … because … of her.
That was it.
He stood up, ignoring his dignity, and marched towards the jet.
Bulma quickly scrambled to her feet and chased after him. "Hey, where are you going?" She stood in front of him. Where ever he was going, he wasn't leaving her.
Keeping his eyes trained on the sky, and not on her chest, Vegeta squinted. "We came from this direction," he said, pointing ahead of himself. "That's the direction I'm going back in."
Bulma gasped. "You can't just leave me here." Spreading her arms out, she foolishly attempted to barricade Vegeta's way.
He tried desperately hard not to throw his head back and laugh.
After sitting around for fifteen minutes, mulling over their time together, Bulma concluded that she had the right to feel extremely pissed off with Vegeta. After spending a night together, comfortably, she thought there was a little bit more between them than she'd originally suspected. Ok, maybe blatantly asking Vegeta for sex was a bit much, but she kind of felt like it was a reasonable thing to think.
A vulture circled over-head, and Bulma felt her back straighten. "If you leave me here, Vegeta, you'll suffer the consequences," she said, gravely.
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Move aside."
"No. Take me home," she said sharply, raising her voice without meaning to. Now feelings of anger and rage were starting to creep over her, and she couldn't stop it. She wouldn't stop it. Why wouldn't he show his feelings for her? Just something small. She didn't ask for much.
"I don't care about that." She pointed down to his crotch. "Really, I'm cool with it."
"I'm not, now step aside," he said, still avoiding eye contact with her. If he looked at her … well … he didn't know exactly what would happen.
Bulma's head began to throb again. She hadn't taken her medication. It should have been taken an hour ago …
Still stood with her hands out, she sighed. "What's to worry about? It's not like I haven't seen it all before."
He couldn't help it that time. He had to look at her, to see if she was being serious. Her blue eyes were burning in to his. Oh God … she was serious.
He stepped back. "Gah. Why do you have to be so vile?"
Bulma groaned and dropped her arms to her side. It was like talking to a baby. Couldn't he see between the lines? Or was he seriously playing stupid? "There's nothing vile about it! When two people like each other … that's kind of what they do."
Galvanised, Vegeta couldn't find any more words. What did she expect him to say to that? It was a trap. He was sure of it. Best thing to do was stay quiet. What was she getting at, anyway? Could she read into his thoughts? Did she know that he was becoming fond of her?
Bulma's eyes widened and she scoffed. "Oh my God. Look! You can't even deny it!"
"Deny what?" Vegeta said, feeling the sweat scraping down his back.
"Just do something about it, Vegeta," she said, walking right up to his face. "I'm standing right here."
The sweat on her skin was prickling his nose. There was a single drop, trailing down her chest and between her breasts. He gulped, as their eyes met.
"I'm tired of this, Vegeta," she muttered, moving closer, so that her chest met his. Suddenly she felt more nervous than ever. And the damp on her skin had turned icy cold.
Vegeta exhaled heavily. He could fly away. Just vanish into the sky and leave her there. That wouldn't be too hard. And once he was up there, he wouldn't think twice about flying back down to get her. But, then again … she was right … He was tired of it as well … Tired of fighting …
He placed his hands either side of her forearms, and worked his way up to her shoulders.
Bulma's heart raced in her chest, allowing the hunger to overtake her rationality. She closed her eyes, and sighed happily. But when she felt herself being pushed gently to the side, her eyes snapped open to see Vegeta frowning at her.
"I'll see to the boy, then come back for you," he said, not a flicker of emotion in his voice.
Before Bulma could say anything, he set off at a lightning speed into the sky.
"Wait!" she screamed, frivolously running after him. "I'm going to kill you, Vegeta …"
How humiliating! He left her. When she was open, ready for the taking. He left her. And now she was stuck, burning in one hundred degree heat, for God knew how long.
A current of rage blew out of her and she screamed into the open air, "Hey, everybody, Vegeta is flying around with a huge erection." And she picked up a large stone, and chucked it into the air, watching as it practically floated back to the ground a few yards away.
Discovering that her anger hadn't subsided and only worsened, Bulma hit the floor and huffed. What the hell was she supposed to do now?
A/N - The thought of Piccolo and Dende, sitting on top of Kami's lookout, and overhearing Bulma's rant, tickled me a bit, so I had to use it ;D
Let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far, by leaving a little review. I'd appreciate it a lot. Thanking you ^.^
