Windows to the Soul
A/n: You don't want excuses, I don't want to list everything bad that's happened, so just believe me when I say I've been working on this whenever I got the chance.
Also, I didn't get as many reviews for the last chapter, so, if you've missed reading it, make sure you go back and do that.
Now, for your reading pleasure (and since I took so long getting this out) I give you 7.5 pages of pure Bulma and Vegeta interaction. Enjoy.
Chapter 10
My lab is in complete shambles. There's paper everywhere, shards of metal strewn across the room, and tools sticking out of places in the wall. I carefully make my way through the room, wishing I had opted for shoes more sturdy then the soft blue slippers I currently have on my feet. What was I going to do with this mess? I could get one of the cleaning bots to reorganize everything, but then I wouldn't know where they put my stuff. I certainly didn't want to organize this entire mess myself. I wish I had a time machine so that I could go back in time to the night before and keep myself from tearing this place apart, or better yet, back even further to keep the argument with Vegeta from happening. I sigh, knowing that even if I could do that, there would just be more arguments down the road.
Why does that man insist on being so damn difficult, I ask myself as I nudge some metal out of my path with the toe of my slipper. He's so stubborn, and spoiled, and short tempered, and self centered, and just like me, and I hate it. I'm lucky I can get along with me most days, how am I possibly expected to get along with a male version of my personality? The answer to that question is fairly easy, I don't, not most of the time. I just can't get him out of my mind though. Something about him just pulls me to him, and I can't help but give into it. Of course there's the obvious physical attraction, but there's more to it, something about his demeanor and the things he doesn't say.
I tiptoe through a mess of metal to get to my desk. It isn't until I'm seated that I realize that there's a red splotch on the tip of my right slipper. Confused, I take it off, surprised to see my big toe covered in the dark red liquid. My heart stops for a second, and my breath hitches. No matter how often I see it, I still hate the sight of blood. I clear my mind of panicked thoughts and look at the slipper in my hand, seeing a shiny piece of metal sticking through the bottom of it. How smart of me to walk through that mess. I take a deep breath and pull the piece of metal out of the slipper before sliding my foot back into it. I get to my feet, gingerly placing weight on my right foot. The closest bathroom would be the one off the downstairs hallway. I grimace as I make my way back towards the door, careful to avoid the same metal mess that got me into this problem in the first place.
At least I can be grateful for the fact that my slipper is soaking up most of the blood and I'm not leaving a nice long trail behind me. I grit my teeth and ignore the pain as I finally make it to the bathroom. Leaning on the counter, I stand on my one leg, taking the weight off my right one. I wet a cloth, and grab the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet before leaving the room and hobbling through the hallway and into the kitchen. The tile in here will be easier to clean then carpet, and it's less cramped then the bathroom. I sit at the table, and remove my slipper, letting it drop to the floor beside me. I take the wet cloth and gently start wiping away some of the blood until I see the wound. I take a clean cloth and wrap it around my toe to apply pressure to the wound. It's at this time that I hear the back door open and the Saiyan prince walk in. I glance at the clock on the wall, noticing it to be around nine in the morning, the time that my mother is usually awake to feed the hungry alien. Just my luck.
He walks in dripping sweat and has the nerve to look at me like I disgust him, "you better not have bled over any food," he mumbles as he makes a beeline for the food pantry behind me.
"Jerk," I mumble with a growl. "I'm bleeding all over the place and that's all you can say?" I may have exaggerated a little. I turn my head in time to see him shrug his shoulders behind me. I bite my tongue and turn my head back forwards.
Not even ten seconds later he walks into my peripheral vision. "Where's your mother?" he asks gruffly, "I'm hungry."
I shoot him a dirty look, "she's out with some of her friends, guess you'll have to starve, since you know, I'd just bleed all over your food."
"Annoying woman," he mutters and disappears from my sight, only to return on the other side, "what did you do to yourself, anyway?"
"I didn't do anything. I was merely defending the contents of my lab against a superhuman being. I was fighting him off, and besting him strategy-wise using that wonderful brain of mine, when he got frustrated and stabbed my foot with a metal shard and ran off like the coward he was," I tell him.
He looks at me skeptically, "now the truth."
"Well, the lab part and the metal shard part are true," I say, "you didn't have to just assume that I did this, you know." I notice his eyes move to where I'm holding the cloth, and I look down, seeing the blood start to show through it. I look back at him in time to catch a weird look in his eyes, but it's gone all too fast when he locks eye contact with me again.
"You stepped on a metal shard?" he asks, chuckling slightly. "With how much you like to boast about your 'superior' intellect, I'm surprised you were stupid enough to do something like that."
"Oh, shove it, you royal pain in my ass," I reply, pressing the cloth harder onto the wound. I think it's almost done bleeding, then I should be able to get a closer look at it. I doubt it's anything too severe, I've just always managed to make a nice show of blood whenever I cut myself.
Vegeta pulls out one of the chairs at the table and sits down, placing his chin on his palm, and staring at me with a bored expression.
"What?" I snap, a little too harshly.
"I'm hungry," he replies, his voice void of any emotion.
"You're hungry?" I repeat. "You barge in here, don't even ask me if I'm alright, insult me, and now you're complaining about being hungry?"
He shrugs, but doesn't say anything in response.
I glare at him. "You are something, Vegeta, you really are," I say, a hint of disgust in my tone.
He rolls his eyes and gets to his feet. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he walks to the back wall, takes the cordless phone off the charger, and walks back over to me to stand behind me. I turn my head back around to face forward. He puts the phone on the table in front of me, and leans down so that his mouth is behind my ear. I shiver as his warm breath rolls over my ear and down my neck. "If you are so pathetic that you'll let a minor flesh wound overcome you, then call out for food."
I wait a beat to see if he was going to continue speaking or move away, he did neither. I turn my head slightly so that I could just see him. He's staring at me intently, with no emotion on his features. I can feel my cheeks start to burn, so I turn back around and grab the phone he placed in front of me. Those damn eyes of his and the way he stares sometimes, it's so unnerving. I hit a series of numbers that I know off by heart, and quickly place an order for several large pizzas. I doubted the Prince would complain about pizza for breakfast, just as long as he got fed. I press the button to end the call and place the receiver back on the table.
I unwrap my toe carefully, using it as an excuse not to look at the man pacing around my kitchen. I use the wet cloth again to wipe off the rest of the blood, and I survey the damage. Vegeta was right, of course, it's only a minor flesh wound, but damn, it hurts. I kick off my other slipper, which I just now realized I was still wearing, and place my feet up on the chair across from me. I watch Vegeta pace for a few moments, before I let out a sigh, which, oddly enough, gets his attention.
Vegeta stops pacing and looks at me, "what's wrong now?" he asks, with a carefully placed tone of annoyance.
"Nothing…" I reply, staring at him. Some part of me hopes that my staring at him causes the same reaction his staring did to me. It doesn't, of course, and he opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off by the shrill ring of the phone in front of me. I mutter an expletive and pick up the receiver, punching the button just a little harder then I needed to. "What?" I answer, not impressed with being interrupted. I only have so many opportunities to steal Vegeta away from his training, and I do not feel like spending one of them on the phone with some telemarketer, or press reporter.
"Bulma Briefs?" The voice on the other end asks. The voice is male, and smooth.
"Yes," I snarl, before I let out a sigh as I glance at Vegeta, who's leaning against the counter staring at me again. I stare back at him this time, ignoring the flush of red I feel making its way to my cheeks. He smirks after a moment, which pulls a smile from me. He is absolutely gorgeous when he smirks in amusement. Who am I kidding? He's absolutely gorgeous even when he smirks as he's about to blast someone into oblivion. I involuntarily lick my lips, resulting from my focus on his mouth. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly, but he smirk doesn't disappear. I know he loves me worshipping him.
"Hello? Hello?" the voice on the other end of the phone practically yells, pulling me out of my daze.
"What? Oh…uh…sorry, I'm not interested," I reply, realizing I had completely tuned out everything the man had said.
"'Not interested'?" He repeats, with a tone near to that of disbelief. "What are you talking about? Were you even listening to me? I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, not some airhead like your mother."
"What?" I practically scream, "don't talk about my mother that way!" My mother is an airhead, but that doesn't give anyone the right to call her on it. Well, except me. Vegeta winces at my high pitched tone, and I mouth 'sorry' to him. "What is it that you want?" I ask, icily.
"I don't like having to repeat myself, Bulma, so you better be listening this time around," the man stated, obviously annoyed with me. "I want you to stop playing 'detective' and stop snooping around. If you don't listen to me, I can't be held responsible for what happens to you."
"Is that a threat?" I ask, standing up from the table, and placing my free palm down on it. I ignore the urge to wince at the pain in my foot. I glance back at Vegeta, having turned my attention from him at the words of the man on the phone. His eyes have narrowed slightly, but other than that, his face is once more emotionless.
"It's just a friendly suggestion, Bulma," the man said with a slight chuckle, "make of it what you will."
My line goes dead and I punch the button to end the call. "What a load of bullshit!" I exclaim. "Who the hell does he think he is threatening me? What a jerk!" I leave the table and start to pace back and forth in the kitchen, completely oblivious now to the pain in my foot. "Ass! He doesn't know who he's dealing with! Good luck getting at me to make good on your threats, you asshole!"
Vegeta steps in front of me, effectively ending my pacing. "Who is threatening you?"
"Oh, some head of a rival corporation, by the name of Reese Score. He thinks he can bully me into stopping my investigation into the break-in and the theft and…." I trail off as he narrows his eyes at me.
"What have you been getting into?" Vegeta asked. I could tell he was trying to keep his tone leveled.
"I didn't tell you, did I?" I chuckle nervously. "I kinda found out who was behind the break-in, and sorta went to their home. Apparently, they found out." I motioned to the now dead phone. I see his eyes spark in anger, or, could that possibly be worry? I pout at him, and bat my eyelashes, "I'm sorry," I say quietly. "but I had to. They have something valuable of mine and-"
"So, you just go running off unprotected?" Vegeta interrupts me, his voice rough and clearly not impressed with me. He snarls when I try to open my mouth to speak, which effectively makes me clamp my mouth shut again. "You are not invincible, Bulma, and those idiot friends of your aren't going to always be around to save you when you get into trouble."
Despite the lecture, I smile. "You just called me by name," I state quietly, "instead of woman. It's a landmark moment."
He rolls his eyes, "figures that would be what you would focus on. Fine, go get killed, see if I care."
"But you do care if I get killed," I say with a mischievous smile, and take a step closer to him. "Or else you wouldn't have lectured me."
He grunts, "don't read too much into it."
"You can't take it back now," I tease, "just face it, you care if I die. Admit it." The doorbell rings signaling the delivery of the pizza, just in time to save him from me. I smile at him and turn to go to the door. "Don't think I'm done with you yet."
I step out onto the deck after supper that night. It was late, and the sun had already set. I take a deep breath of fresh air, immediately noticing the other person present. I walk over to our patio table, and lean my backside against it, just to the right of where Vegeta is sitting in a chair. "Do you ever get the feeling that we meet on this deck way too often?" I ask, remembering the first time we were out here together. I had kissed his cheek and ran away, and he had accused me of playing games with him. I smile warmly at the memory that was maybe a month old.
He shrugged and closed his eyes.
"You don't seem to be training quite so much lately," I mentioned.
"There's no sense," he replied, still with closed eyes. "I can't achieve what I want like that."
I nod, even though he can't see it. "How will you achieve it?"
"I don't know yet. I have a couple theories, but none I want to share," he says quietly.
"When you want to…" I trailed off as he nodded, already knowing what I was going to say, that I'd want to know.
I let the silence last for a few minutes. "Vegeta," I say quietly, "I want to go confront Reese about all this stuff tomorrow. Will you come with me, and keep me safe?" He only nods, not saying a word. "Thank you," I murmur. "One more question though. You said the person snooping around was my friend, did you mean Lait? I only ask because she swears she wasn't over here."
"Because all guilty people admit their guilt," he replied sarcastically.
"I know, I had thought of that. But, I was kind of hoping that you were mistaken," I said, a little sadly, "or that Lait would own up to it and that she was just over here for some trivial reason. Now, I know someone is lying to me, because you both have different stories."
"Who do you believe?" Vegeta asked, not missing a beat. I studied his face for a moment, noticing the lines between his eyes.
I took a deep breath, "I don't have any reason to mistrust you, Vegeta." My smile returned as his face relaxed again. I know he was mentally preparing himself for an argument.
"You're a peculiar woman," he stated, opening his eyes to look at me.
I shrug, "maybe so, but I'd rather be peculiar then what's considered normal. Besides, if I was a normal human, you'd despise me just like you do all the rest."
"You're awfully sure that I don't despise you now," he states.
"Of course I am," I agree, "who couldn't not despise someone as beautiful, talented, and smart as myself?" I grinned at him.
"Someone's full of themselves," he says with a smirk.
"Well, maybe if someone," I put a strong emphasis on 'someone', "would compliment me, I wouldn't have to toot my own horn."
He rolled his eyes, "fine," he replies, and stands up. He places a hand on my hip and gently nudges me over so I'm leaning on the table directly in front of him, with a couple inches of space separating us. "You are passably tolerable in looks and talent, but, I have yet to see any example of intelligence. Good enough?"
I narrow my eyes at him, and playfully smack his shoulder. "You jerk. I should have known better than to expect anything nice to come out of that foul mouth of yours."
"You can't hold me accountable for your mistakes, woman," he shrugged, keeping his hand on my hip.
"'Woman'?" I repeated. "What happened to 'Bulma'?"
"A slip of the tongue," he explains, with a deepening smirk.
"Oh, so you intentionally not call me by name then, huh?" I say as I slowly wind my arms around his neck.
"You can't prove anything," he replies, nudging me back so that I'm perched on the edge of the table.
"Hm, I beg to differ." I lean forward, greedily pressing my open lips to his. I wrap my legs around his waist, resting them on his hips, and urging him tighter against my body. He grips my hip tighter with the hand that had lain there, and rests the other behind my neck. He guides my head to the side so he can deepen the kiss. I'm reveling in the feel of his body when a gasp sounds from the other side of the deck, followed by an airy giggle.
I regretfully part mouths with Vegeta, both turning our heads in the direction of the intruding noise. I'm surprised when he doesn't step away from me, and instead moves his hands to my lower back. Following his lead, I keep my arms around his neck, but I unlock my legs from around his waist, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the image that must create for my mother.
"Mom," I say in a tone meant to urge her to speak quickly or leave.
She giggles again and clasps her hands in front of her waist, "my my, isn't this something? Who would've thought? You two look so cute together. This is definitely a step up for you, Bulma."
I glare at her, and I'm fairly certain Vegeta is as well, although I can't see his face. "Did you want something?" I ask, wishing that my voice didn't come out sounding so icy.
"Oh no, dear, I just wanted some fresh air, but I'll leave you two alone," she chirped happily as she turned and went back into the building.
I roll my eyes as I return my focus to the man in front of me, "and you were insulting my intelligence?"
He shrugs, and leans forward to nip at my bottom lip, before letting go of me and taking a step back, "coming inside?" he asked with an alluring glint in his eye.
I smirk back and allow him to lead me into the house.
--
I squeeze my eyes closed and roll over, smacking into something hard and warm, which grunted at the contact. This brings me out of sleep completely as I open my eyes to the sculpted form of my houseguest sleeping on his back. His eyes are closed, and he has the arm nearest me pillowed under his head, with his other arm resting across his bare chest. I sigh happily and place my head on his chest, taking advantage of his sleeping state, knowing that he wouldn't let me cuddle up to him to sleep if he were awake. I close my eyes again, quickly falling back to sleep.