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XIV.
Burns
"It is malfunctioning." Vegeta dropped a metal hunk of training equipment onto Bulma's desk, the vibration and clatter of its impact causing the agitated scientist to cringe.
"It isn't malfunctioning, you broke it. There's a difference," she corrected with an eye roll. "These bots can only take so much, ya know. Do you really have to destroy all of them every single week to train satisfactorily?"
The Saiyan answered Bulma's inquiry with a scathing glare, deeming the question unworthy of a verbal response. As of recently, there had been few words shared between them-at least, fewer than the usual few. Vegeta was quite content to ignore her whenever possible, and was making a concerted effort to do so, as her tactics to manipulate him into being submissive were wearing his patience thin. She was, however, far more efficient at the maintenance of his training technology than her father, so exceptions had to be made.
Accurately interpreting his silence, the beautiful heiress sighed. "Right." She turned the damaged bot over in her hands, studying the visible scars of a recent ki blast. "It'll take a few minutes, but I should be able to get it up and running again before dinner. Just let me feed Trunks and I'll get on it."
Preoccupied by his training equipment needs (and the low cut of his former mate's blouse), the Saiyan had not even noticed his young son, standing shakily in his padded pen, positioned on the floor next to Bulma's desk. He raised an eyebrow, surprised to see the child on his feet. "He stands now?"
"I told you that forever ago! He walks, too, remember? If you'd listen to me ever, you'd know," the scientist huffed, placing the bot back on her desk and hoisting the toddler into her arms. "Yes, we're going to get you something yummy, aren't we?" she cooed, voice altered to sound silly and nurturing—a great juxtaposition from the shrill, demanding tone Vegeta usually experienced.
Jaw working, the Saiyan crossed his arms. "Shut up. Just tell me when you are complete," he grumbled, turning to make his exit.
Bulma stuck her tongue out at the grumpy Prince's back. "Whatever you want, your majesty," she drawled sarcastically, standing.
Triggered by her abrupt change in posture, the motion sensor on the broken training bot began to blink, and suddenly kicked on with a 'bing'. Catching sight of the light just in time, the scientist shrieked and turned, shielding Trunks from the laser which shot towards them. Instantly alerted by her cry, Vegeta quickly blasted the firing machine, reducing it to an unrecognizable, smoking pile of charred scrap. He then approached his familial pair, eyeing them for damage. "Why didn't you dodge, idiot woman?" he demanded, noting the scorched clothing and skin on the back of Bulma's shoulder.
"I did! It didn't get him!" she snapped, gaze fixated on her son as she looked him over. "He's fine," she reiterated, exhaling in relief as she returned the boy to his play pen so she could inspect her own wound.
"It got you, moron," the Saiyan said pointedly, gripping the heiress's arm so that he, too, could scrutinize the injury.
"Yes, I know that, Vegeta! While it's probably been a whole fifteen minutes since one shot you, it does hurt, remember!?" Bulma retorted, wincing as the warrior prodded her. "Would you cut it out?"
"You purposefully used your own body to protect the boy? You are weak and have no experience with such a blast- you did not know what it would do to you. It could have ended you," Vegeta stated tersely, disordered by her actions. The woman was a lot of things, but brave or self-sacrificing had never been descriptors he would attribute to her.
The scientist blinked, confused by the Saiyan's confusion. "I'm his mother, Vegeta, what was I going to do, just stand there and let a weaponized robot shoot him? I know you think I'm a weakling or an idiot or whatever, but give me some credit, geeze,"she grumbled, imitating his voice with undeniable accuracy when parroting his usual adjectives.
Contemplating this, the warrior stood silently, shifting the burnt fabric of her blouse to reveal the extent of her damage. It was a large, yet seemingly superficial scorch; the mark was ugly on her soft and fair skin. Looking at it prompted his blood to boil.
Surprised by the tenderness with which he touched her, Bulma turned to look at the Saiyan, whose serious eyes were still focused on her throbbing arm. With the adrenaline lessening, and the knowledge that Trunks was unharmed, she was beginning to feel the full and unpleasant sensation of the burn. "Hey, I'm fine, you can stop doing whatever you're doing back there," she said softly, placing a hand over the one which grasped her. "I mean, you fought androids and helped save the world. I think I can handle a little training bot," she added with a nervous laugh, fighting the tears which stung threateningly. She hated crying in front of him.
He released her arm, simultaneously sliding his hand out from under her own. She loved to accost him with these sentimental gestures—they made him extraordinarily uncomfortable. "I should have assured it was deactivated before bringing it to you, or destroyed it sooner. This is my fault," he said stiffly, making a fist.
Immediately connecting the parallel, Bulma shook her head. "Woah, back up, homeboy. I'm not Trunks, and that hunk of junk isn't Cell. I'm fine, baby Trunks is fine, and great-big-tall-future Trunks is fine. There wasn't anything you could do. Stop beating yourself up about everything, would ya?"
Vegeta's brow furrowed further, eyes downcast to better barricade himself from the scientist; she was much too good at reading his thoughts for his own comfort. He then imagined his grown son, lying dead at the hands of Cell, and remembered the many things he wished he would have said or done in that moment, all those months ago. Suddenly, his gaze lifted to Bulma, who was stunning yet pitiful in her ruined top, her own eyes transfixed on the Saiyan. Unable to stop himself, he reached for her, pulling her towards him and meeting her lips with his own.
The embrace seemed to last for hours, although it was a mere few seconds—the energy between them could have produced a numerical value on a scanner. However, Vegeta ended the exchange, backing away from the heiress, his ears and cheeks the color of blood. Bulma opened her mouth to begin a dialogue, but was immediately cut short by the warrior prince. "See to your injury," he said gruffly, then quickly turned and left, leaving her and Trunks alone in the lab.