As always, rated M for language and steamy stuff because I'm baller like that.
How did it go?
Bulma sat on Vegeta's toilet lid, rubbing the extra moisture out of her hair with a towel. She gazed at her phone with sleepy discomposure, steam settling on her screen. It was still early, for Bulma, at least, but Chi Chi was an early riser and a punctual texter.
He knows.
And there it was.
Bulma's eyebrows raised.
So it was official: Chi Chi and Goku were expecting a baby.
Bulma knew exactly what to say.
OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD
Bulma didn't wait for her to text back. She'd already pressed two on her speed dial.
She didn't waste any time when Chi Chi picked up. "What did he say?"
Bulma's voice echoed in Vegeta's bathroom. Late morning light poured through the wooden blind slats and lay itself at her feet.
"He said…" She heard Chi Chi take a deep breath. "He said it will be okay….He seems excited, if a little…overwhelmed," she huffed.
"About the baby?"
"Bulma," Chi Chi interrupted, "has Vegeta told you anything about what's going on at Vejita Bardock and Sons?"
It was like everything from last night hit Bulma in the stomach. "Oh noooo," she groaned, "Chi Chi, yes, yes, he told me last night. Cheech, what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to go barf," Chi Chi said decisively.
"Oh." Bulma answered with some confusion.
"No, really. I'm going to barf. I'll be right back."
Bulma heard silence on the other end as the phone was placed on a table, and with wide eyes, Bulma waited. She wrapped the thick towel around her equally thick hair and opened the bathroom door, clutching the phone between her shoulder and her ear, keeping the towel around her body from gaping at her bust. Steam escaped around her, and she walked into Vegeta's bedroom, plush carpet meeting her clean feet.
She threw herself back on Vegeta's big bed and waited.
There was some scraping from the other end. "Okay I'm back," Chi Chi's voice announced weakly.
Bulma rested her arm on her forehead, her hand draping over her eyes. "You sound like shit."
"You sound like you've been hanging out with Vegeta too much," Chi Chi grumbled.
Bulma smirked. "So what's going to happen?" She wiggled her fingers and watched them, her eyes crossing. "Cheech, we all know Goku is not ready for a position like this…"
She heard Chi Chi sigh from the other end. "He doesn't want to do it. He admitted he was just going with the flow, accepting the position because he felt pressured, because they were so nice, he couldn't say no. Bardock has put him between a rock and a hard place. Ugh, Bardock," she sneered. "I'm up to my ears in his bullshit. How many times has he ignored Goku, plainly refused to act like a father? And now he's made it so that Goku feels like he's desperately needed there at the firm, and if Goku doesn't do it, who will? Bardock knows Goku only wants to help everyone; he's manipulating Goku! But does Goku see it that way? No. Only me. And I'm an attorney for a competing firm, and I'm just a naggy, hormonal girlfriend, so I can't be trusted…." Chi Chi trailed off.
"Ohmygod." Bulma sat up abruptly, towel sagging over her chest. "Chi Chi, did he not pop the question?"
Silence.
Nope. There it was—
A sniffle.
Bulma tugged the towel off her head with frustration and threw it against the closet door. "What is he waiting for?" She growled. "Maybe he doesn't want to do it under these circumstances?" She reasoned.
"Bulma, I love him, but he's just…lost, sometimes. If I don't lead him to water…. Sometimes I think he couldn't take care of himself without me. How would he eat? He would just sit there on the couch, whining until the very end."
They both snickered.
"But, you know, he's a dream boat. He's chivalrous, and hard working, and so gorgeous, and pure-hearted…so why hasn't he tried to make an honest woman out of me? Bulma, should I give him an ultimatum or something?" Chi Chi asked desperately.
Bulma's eyes widened.
"Chi Chi, I don't think he's, like, actively avoiding marrying you….Wait, do you?"
Another sniffle. "Yes," she admitted throatily. "I'm really starting to feel that way. Am I so un-marry-able?" Bulma heard a thump on the other line like Chi Chi had kicked something in frustration. "Am I not beautiful enough? Not talented enough? Have I not made the man enough chicken curry that he is solidly convinced that I will always make good enough chicken curry? B, Goku is thick headed—unless he's playing competitive sports, and then he's scarily on the ball—but this just seems…like he's avoiding me. Like, he doesn't mind if we live together and he gets taken care of forever, but something is wrong with me if a guy like him is not willing to commit…and now we have a baby on the way, and he's still unwilling and that must be his true colors and—"
Bulma frowned. "That's bullshit. You know what? You need to get out of the house."
"Oh, no," Chi Chi wheedled, "I need to stay right here. Last time I thought I needed a breather I threw up in the parking lot of the mall before I even made it in for the blue light sale."
"I'm calling in some anti-nausea medicine from Capsule Corp's medical team." Chi Chi began to protest, but Bulma was firm. "I don't want to hear it. This is outrageous, and you deserve a night out. We're going out tonight. Do you hear that, baby bump?" Bulma hollered into the phone. "Your mom needs a night without your shit."
"Bulma," Chi Chi gasped, "watch your language in front of the baby."
They giggled.
"I am so serious. We're going out. Put on your tightest club dress, use up half a bottle of hairspray, slather on way too much makeup. You're gonna show off that bump tonight. We're going to make them want to send us back to whatever reality show we came from."
"Bulma, that's a terrible idea. We're too old for that stuff."
"Which is exactly why it's a fantastic idea. We are going to MILF the hell out of that place tonight." Bulma rolled onto her belly.
"I don't think 'MILF' is a verb."
"It is now. I'll pick you up at seven."
"Bulma, I usually pass out at that time. Pregnancy makes me soooo tired…" Chi Chi complained.
"I'll bring some coffee, you take a nap, I don't know, but it's happening, and you're just going to have to deal with it," Bulma said fiercely into the phone.
There was an exhale, and then a surrendering chuckle. "Just, don't pick me up in your bus, okay? It always makes me motion sick and I feel like I'm not wearing nearly enough love beads…"
"Ohhhh, no, we are going out with style tonight." Bulma grinned ear to ear. "Let's take the convertible tonight."
"Oh, Kami." Chi Chi knew just which one she was talking about.
"Oh, yes."
Another sigh. "Fine. Fine! I'll be waiting. Goku has to stay late at work tonight, anyway."
"His loss! See you then!"
She tossed the phone onto the night stand and rolled toward Vegeta's side of the bed. Bulma squirmed upwards in her towel to lay her head on his pillow and inhale. Her eyes closed sleepily, and she smiled.
Damnet, it was her Saturday off, and yet Vegeta, like Goku, had 'work' to do. She sighed as she rolled off the bed.
She hadn't brought a spare set of clothes. She grabbed her underwear off the floor, crumpled it up into a ball, and threw them at the bed in defeat. Looked like she was going commando until she got to her parent's. She stepped into her jeans and yanked them up over her hips, and twirled around, looking for her bra. She recalled Vegeta taking it off her when they were in bed, and she leaned forward, her hands searching under the sheets. At home, that's where all her socks went—it was a common abyss for garments to fall into. "These sheets are so nice," she murmured into the high thread count until her hands hit her lacey underwire. "Got it." She strapped on her over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder and snatched her shirt off the floor.
As she tugged it on over her head, her damp curls pressing against her face, she had a sudden urge to look around Vegeta's room. She'd been here a dozen times and she still felt like a stranger.
She leaned over as she pulled the shirt over her hips to open his night stand drawer, but stopped. It didn't feel right to invade his privacy.
She stood and stepped to the closet, picked up the damp towel she'd thrown at it, and slowly put her hand on the door knob. She turned it.
The smell of cedar hit her, and she breathed deeply. Of course. Cedar. The man knew how to live comfortably, that was for sure. As the heir to her family's good fortune, she wasn't necessarily unfamiliar with living comfortably, but Vegeta's lifestyle had the rare air of efficient practicality, a well thought out, refined svelte minimalism, a touch of classic aesthetic in a modern home and man. He had his own tastes. This home was the work of a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and she would have never expected it to be so alluring a quality.
She stepped inside and gazed at all the garments hanging from the wood hangers. Her hand grazed the fabrics with absorption. She smiled with nervous delight, clutched one of the suit jacket sleeves, and inhaled.
"But the most rewarding location is here," Vegeta pointed to an intersection on the map. "This space gets a lot of traffic, and it's right outside the outdoor mall on the west side. It would be a smart space for the clientele that could help finance and expand our firm as we get on our feet."
Raditz and Nappa looked at the map with partial interest before sitting back in their chairs. "I'll call Romeo," Raditz muttered, filing his nails.
"Cash in on your favor, Raditz. Get your guy to lease us this building. Moving on." Vegeta sat straighter in his chair. "I'll need exposure as soon as possible. That means contacting Jez, Nappa. Do it."
"Yup."
"Finally, we will need someone to work the front desk. I'm not answering phones and neither are you two. That's beneath our firm's caliber, and we need to knock this out of the park immediately. We will have enough on our plate as it is starting this thing up, anyway. I want this facility up and running by next week. I want to get working on the job for the police asap. I don't want to waste any time looking for a receptionist."
Raditz looked pained. "Next week?!"
"Yes. I have my old accountant on the new paperwork, and I'm going to use that strategy for the receptionist…." Vegeta stared at them, waiting for them to catch on.
Raditz and Nappa stared at him in silence.
It hit Raditz first.
"Ohhhhh, no."
"It's our only option."
"Send a fucking call out on the internet for resumes. It's that fucking easy."
"I don't have the time or patience to interview a whole host of applicants right now."
"Like hell you don't! You have all the time in the world!" Raditz shouted, bristling.
Nappa made a little noise that sounded remarkably like a "tee-hee."
"What the hell are you laughing about?" Raditz barked.
A high pitched string of giggles erupted out of Nappa like a school girl. "It's Vegeta's ex, and you're the one freaking out."
A smirk graced Vegeta's face briefly. "Deal with it, Raditz," he ordered.
"I don't wanna!" Raditz whined, kicking the desk leg.
"I've already called her."
"Awww, shit," Nappa declared.
Raditz pouted, slumping even further into his chair.
"Yeah, well, we'll see how much you want her around when she learns about Bulma."
Raditz and Vegeta locked eyes tensely for a moment.
"That's water under the bridge," Vegeta dismissed.
"I thought so, too, when I was dating Melanie."
Vegeta's expression didn't change, but Raditz knew him well enough. The pause meant he was reflecting on the issue. The cogs in his brain would turn, the possibilities would compete, his rationale churning out disadvantages and rewards and computing from every available angle. The problem was, what angle would he choose for his own ends?
"This is a business relationship. I'm responsible for paying her income. If she fucks that up, she doesn't get paid. Fasha cares most of all for her lifestyle," Vegeta concluded.
Raditz didn't look convinced. He'd crossed his arms over his chest and had shifted his body away from them.
Since neither Raditz nor Nappa cooked and subsisted mainly off potato chips and fast food, their dining room boasted a cheap, unused kitchen table that was mostly used for beer pong. Vegeta had demanded that they work out the kinks to the new firm here, rather than invade his personal space again.
All of this, the day right after he'd quit. It wasn't even a weekday. Before Raditz and Nappa had even had a moment to form their resignations to Vejita Bardock and Sons. Before any of them had even taken a breath. Vegeta's pace was grueling.
"I just think you need to let her know you're in a relationship immediately," Raditz mumbled with rare care. "If you don't, she will sabotage the shit out of it. Fasha has as much pride as you. The sooner she knows she can't make any advances, the sooner she doesn't feel slighted, and the better off you'll be." He tightened his arms over his chest and watched Vegeta sullenly from the corners of his eyes. "After all, you kicked her to the curb for that blonde when you were a high-falutin' naval officer. I'd watch my back."
Vegeta stared at him from the other side of the table darkly.
"Unless you're trying to get with both of them," Nappa broke the silence, grinning stupidly. "Maybe Bulma will consent to a threesome. Ménage á trois, know what I'm sayin'?"
Raditz and Vegeta both glared at him.
"Fuck off, Nappa," they both growled.
Nappa looked at his shoes shamefully.
"Fine." Vegeta swiped the air dismissively with his hand. "I'll introduce them as soon as Fasha arrives Monday. We'll get it out of the way and move forward."
They sat in silence for a moment, before Raditz looked up, wincing. "You know," he began warily, "my brother didn't want anything to do with all this."
"Shut up, Raditz," Vegeta growled, scrawling notes on the notepad in front of him. "I don't feel like talking about it."
Raditz stood up. "Look, I know you're a bastard. We all do. We get it, we can deal with it because we're passive aggressive losers." He raised a finger. "Albeit, sexy losers."
"That's what I'm sayin'." Nappa brofisted Raditz.
"But you're going to have to get over it at some point. Goku thinks of you as a brother, man. He looks up to you."
"I'm not forgiving anyone," Vegeta snarled into his notes.
"Why not," Nappa paused to clear his throat, "why not offer him a job?"
"You're a fucking idiot. And he's a fucking idiot. We have no room for idiots on our team."
"He doesn't want that position and you know it," Raditz quarreled.
"Then he doesn't belong in this profession, period." Vegeta glanced up with disgust. "Which is old news to everyone. Let him learn his goddamned lesson under his father's helping hand. We all know how that's going to go."
"Shit, make him the receptionist," Raditz offered, running his fingers through his long hair with frustration and fluffing it unconsciously. "Goku's done the work. He's did his time. He may not be West City's next top lawyer, but that doesn't mean he's so clueless that he can't make heads or tails out of using the copier. Just invite him over, talk with him."
"I told him I'd knock his teeth into his throat if I saw him anytime soon and I still mean it. Let him come to me and apologize when I've sued his employer into the ground."
"He has nothing to apologize for," Raditz growled.
"He took my life's work from me!" Vegeta barked, ripping his head up from the notepad and glaring at Raditz. "Everything I've worked for since I was eighteen years old."
"He never wanted to be in this position," Raditz yelled back.
"He accepted!" Vegeta stood up and leaned over the table, his chair knocking against the wall behind him. "He accepted, how can you not see that? That's disrespectful to me."
Raditz pointed at him angrily. "You're being a self-absorbed, entitled dick."
"I think someone's been hanging out with Bulma too much," Nappa muttered.
"I'm entitled to be a goddamned prick about it," Vegeta jeered. "Go work for Goku if you're going to be such a bitch about it. That firm is a sinking ship, and you'll go down with it, too."
"I'm out of here," Raditz snapped, grabbing his keys. "Have fun on your climb to the top." Raditz threw on a baseball cap and tipped it mockingly. "You and Fasha deserve each other."
They watched as Raditz stormed out.
Nappa looked up at Vegeta with sad eyes. "He'll be back."
Vegeta sat down, bristling. He stacked his papers and threw them into his suitcase, slapping it shut with frustration, before crossing his arms over his chest and slouching into the seat.
"No, really. He'll be back. He forgot our car's busted."
"Goddamnet!" They heard Raditz scream from outside.
Vegeta fixed Nappa with a look of burning lack of amusement.
"Aw, yeah!" Bulma led the way to the bar, and much to Chi Chi's embarrassment—which had just been growing exponentially since she'd started looking for something suitable to wear tonight—started pumping her arms in the air, 'raising the roof.' Chi Chi tried to just ignore the glances they were getting from all the other people at the club. She pulled on the hem of her dress self-consciously. She and Bulma weren't the oldest ones here, but neither of them were single, neither of them enjoyed the bad electro-pop blasting from all sides, and neither of them fit in—and she felt like everyone here knew it. Chi Chi had never felt so emotionally distant from anything in her entire life. She was pregnant. Her life had completely changed. She might as well go find the club's rocking chair and start knitting.
Bulma looked back at Chi Chi with a wide grin on her face. "Relax," she called out, grabbing for her friend's hand and pulling her to the bar. "Everything is hunky-dory! I know we don't fit in, but that's why it's fun!"
Chi Chi muttered under her breath and threw her long hair over her shoulder.
As the crowd made space around them, a familiar figure stood against the bar, her white-blonde hair, in its characteristic blunt bob, swaying at her shoulders. As if she felt them behind her, she turned and smiled with cat-like impudence.
Eighteen thrust her hand out as they pulled up next to her. It took them only a second to glimpse the large solitaire glinting in the lights of the club.
Bulma could nearly taste Chi Chi's resentment.
"Congratulations!" Bulma called over the noise, Chi Chi following up less enthusiastically behind her. "Krillin swung by the shop before he popped the question. He was soOoOo nervous." Bulma winked.
Eighteen smiled with conceit.
The bartender appeared and asked if they wanted anything. Bulma requested two Shirley Temples with those 'little adorable umbrellas,' earning a raised eyebrow from Eighteen.
"We're not drinking tonight," Bulma explained over the music, pointing at Chi Chi behind her, who was standing and glancing around uncomfortably. "We're just goofing off."
"Is that why we're here?" Juu sipped her martini with narrowed eyes.
"Yes. That's why we're here, of all places. We don't want to talk, we just want to dance and have guys all up on us."
Bulma had had a talk with both women separately before they'd arrived, and both women knew the deal—well, mostly.
She'd let Juu know Chi Chi needed some picking up, and had asked Juu in attractive enough language if she'd grace them with her presence tonight. "Like old times," she'd said, "right, 'Eighteen?'"
Bulma had, of course, asked permission from Chi Chi if they could invite Juu, to which Chi Chi agreed—conditionally. No one but Bulma and Goku were to know about her pregnancy right now.
"Whyyyeeeee?" Bulma had whined. "We should celebrate!"
"Because my life is a clusterfuck and I'm not ready to be openly vulnerable, okay?" Cheech had snapped.
Knowing Chi Chi couldn't drink, Bulma wouldn't be drinking either tonight to show solidarity with her friend. That was fine; Bulma didn't need to get plastered. This was about getting Cheech out of the house for the first time in forever, darnet, and getting her mind off of Goku and feeling like a bag of butts for the last few months.
"It's three karats set next to two sapphires on a platinum band," Eighteen was saying. "Better than the dinky solitaire he got for his ex, Maron." She sipped her martini, scanning the dance floor.
Bulma saw Chi Chi roll her eyes from behind Eighteen.
She'd known Juu would show off her ring and want to talk about the engagement; it was just in her nature. She'd expected there to be a little awkwardness and hostility from Chi Chi that Juu would be, fortunately or unfortunately, oblivious to. There was just no way to warn Juu without giving Chi Chi away, so Bulma had sucked in her breath and crossed her fingers.
She'd just redirect the convo. Easy as pie. "Let's go find some hunky guys to dance with!" Bulma offered, wiggling her eyes suggestively.
"Where's your hunky guy tonight, anyway?" Juu asked her, sitting her empty glass on the bar and turning. "You didn't invite him?" Juu smiled as if the idea was amusing.
Bulma blew her hair out of her face. "He's busy." Bulma shrugged, glancing at Chi Chi. "He hasn't exactly messaged me at all today."
"Hmm," Juu said, and it rubbed Bulma the wrong way. "Well, Krillin is playing a game tonight. I was supposed to go, but I blew him off for you girls."
"Ovaries before brovaries," Bulma cried out over the music.
The women walked towards the dance floor, Juu's tall, modelesque frame leading the way.
"I see who wears the pants in that relationship," Chi Chi muttered.
Bulma snickered, leaning in. "Did you imagine it any other way?"
"I heard what happened with Yamcha," Juu mentioned smoothly, glancing back at Bulma. The other women stiffened a little, not knowing if she would mention their falling out.
"Vegeta hit him hard enough that he missed the next few practices." Juu scoffed. "Lord, that man is such a centerfold waiting to happen. Wish I would have made him my friends-with-benefits before you did. But, you know, his firm is my competition."
"Back off, sister," Bulma grumbled.
"Tell me," Juu eyes twinkled over her shoulder, her smile cutting, as she stopped to claim a space on the dance floor. "Is he as big down there as his ego?" Juu's eyes flicked to Bulma's crotch.
Bulma's stomach knotted a little. She smiled thinly but managed a wink. "Bigger."
Chi Chi rolled her eyes. "Any bigger than his ego and his dick wouldn't be practical," she muttered.
The beat picked up, and Eighteen merged with the group dancing beside her.
Bulma turned to Chi Chi, rolling her hips dramatically. Chi Chi couldn't help the giggle from escaping her mouth. "Has anyone ever told you you can't dance? It's terrible to watch. Just mortifying."
Bulma danced around Chi Chi before waving her ass in her direction. "Dance up on me, Cheech!" Bulma ground herself into the floor before 'vogue-ing' Chi Chi's belly.
Chi Chi burst out laughing.
As the blue and violet lights swept over them, a large figure emerged from the crowd, hovering over them.
"Care to dance?"
The women looked up at a big guy in a too-tight pink polo.
Chi Chi's eyes flicked to Bulma. The questionable vibes the guy was giving off were malleable.
"Uh, sure," Chi Chi agreed, pulling once more at the hem of her orange dress with ruffles from neckline to hemline and ruching all along her hips, conveniently distracting anyone from noticing the slight bump at her waist.
Bulma watched them from the corner of her eye, dancing by herself. Chi Chi was wrong; she was a great dancer, especially when no one was watching, though most especially when she was drunk.
Without anyone to talk to, Bulma got to thinking about Vegeta.
Something about their relationship was gnawing at her. Ever since she'd spoken to Chi Chi, she'd quietly worried about the status of the thing that was them. It wasn't necessarily that Cheech had infected her with her paranoia and misery, but this was just another night in a whole slew of nights that Vegeta spent working without getting in touch with her. Was it…was it because she wasn't all that important to him? Chi Chi was right, she knew she'd feel better once they'd cleared the air. But the thought filled her with dread. Was it because she didn't want to step on any toes, or because she couldn't bear it if he said no?
Bulma raised her head just in time to see the guy dancing with Chi Chi run his hands up her sides and squeeze her breasts.
Chi Chi yelped in pain, spun around, and slapped him.
"What the fuck, bitch?" The guy was a cro-mag, his voice like chewing rocks.
"You can't just touch me there, you idiot!"
"You can't just touch a woman without her consent!" Bulma snapped, grabbing Chi Chi's arm defensively.
The man regarded them with stony apathy. "Why else would two ladies like you be in a night club unless you were looking for a little attention?" He gestured to his crotch.
Both women's jaws dropped.
"What are you saying?"
"Excuse me?" Chi Chi began testily. "Neither of us are here for your amusement. Both of us are very satisfied, successful women with boyfriends!" She bared her teeth. "Strong ones!"
"Just two awesome women who just happen to be wearing ridiculously short dresses!" Bulma added. "Get over it!"
He rolled his eyes at them. "Yeah, whatever." His tanned skin was nearly orange. "All women want to be sluts when they're at the club, career women or not. When you're ready for a real man, come talk to me." He made a motion with his hand like he was talking on the phone. "I don't mind if you're knocked up." He leered at Chi Chi, and turned away.
Chi Chi had absolutely had it.
She had had it up to here with feeling emasculated.
Grabbing the guy's shoulder, Chi Chi spun him around and punched him square in the nose.
Bulma and the crowd around them gaped as he went down.
The two women stared at him as he lay unmoving on the floor.
"Call an ambulance!" Someone shouted from somewhere near them.
The women looked up at each other.
Absurdly, Chi Chi's face split into a foolish grin. She put her hand over her mouth to hide it. "That felt good!" Her eyes were alight with excitement.
Bulma gaped. "Ohmygod, Cheech, you're a pregnant lady and he was five times your size!" Bulma didn't know what she was doing with her hands but it was a little bit like jazz hands.
Bulma and Chi Chi stared at each other before they were racked with laughter.
Two bouncers approached them ominously, and Bulma and Chi Chi raised their hands in defeat, turning to leave. "We're going, we're going!"
The girls sipped their milkshakes through their straws noisily as they watched the crowd, mostly teenagers, mill around the late-night hamburger stand. The women stuck out like a couple of sore thumbs: Chi Chi in her bright orange club dress and nude stilettos, and Bulma in her leather mini, paired with an obnoxious pair of thigh high boots. Chi Chi's hair had been straightened and oiled and lay down the front of her all the way to her slender waist, while Bulma had teased hers into what she hoped was a very high fashion afro. At least it scared away the teenagers.
"You know, that anti-nausea medicine your father sent me is positively wonderful. He gave me a few months worth, by the way." Chi Chi's eyes cut to her friend as she swallowed the remainder of her strawberry milkshake. "I haven't felt this good in months."
"We Briefs' are truly amazing people, I know," Bulma agreed smugly, winking at her. The girls continued to people watch as they leaned against the outside wall. It was just after midnight, and they had both had a hankering for comfort food. Bulma, like usual, had known just where to go.
"It's too bad we lost Juu," Chi Chi mused quietly. Bulma snorted, and the girls smiled naughtily at one another.
"Juu's fine by herself," Bulma dismissed, tossing her milkshake cup into the trash a few feet away from them. "Although I do feel awfully bad that we invited her out and abandoned her there half an hour in."
"Is it just me, or is Juu really self-absorbed lately?" Cheech whispered, cautiously.
Bulma nodded in confidence. "I liked it better when it was, like, ironically self-absorbed. Like, sarcastically conceited. Like, 'ha, ha, this is me making fun of you all.' I think she might have forgotten that it was an act."
"Poor Krillin," lamented Chi Chi.
"Poor Krillin. Hey, watch this," Bulma told Chi Chi, before pulling out a small mirror and a tube of lipstick from her black clutch. Bulma, blue eyes wide, made an 'O' with her lips and, to both their delight, carefully, expertly reapplied her lipstick.
"You deserve an award!" Chi Chi cried.
"Maybe I'll start wearing it at work. That'll bring in the customers, right? I think the damned thing is called 'Sports Car Red,' too."
"Might end up bringing Vegeta in a little too often," Chi Chi laughed.
Bulma looked winsomely at the night sky. "I don't think he'd appreciate it if I left red lipstick all over his crisp white shirts. He's such a buzzkill."
"He might appreciate it if you left it in a ring around the base of his cock," Chi Chi said deviously, and both the girls eyes glittered with mischief.
"Language!" Both of the women turned to see a horrified woman clapping her hands over her son's ears. As the woman led her son away by his head, both the girls began giggling.
"You know, after the baby's born, I think I'm going to get back into martial arts," Chi Chi mused as they strut to Bulma's car.
"Gangster of love over here." The women's heels clacked on the pavement.
"Punching that jerk felt so good," Chi Chi breathed, eyes bright. "I need more of that in my life right now."
"Cheech, you're almost four months pregnant. Don't get too excited; you'll pull a hammy or fall over or something."
"Bulma, I'm pregnant, not crippled." Chi Chi sent her a dark look. "You know I was an upper degree black belt before I went into business with Baba and Korin. I just haven't had time to practice at the dojo. It's not like I'll be bench pressing a car or doing triathlons or anything," she reasoned. "Plus, if I was afraid of pulling a hammy, I wouldn't have gone out in these heels."
"Speak to your doctor about it, at least," Bulma relinquished, "and that's because you're fresh to death."
The women smiled affectionately at each other before opening their car doors. The car was sleek and deep, deep red, and a group of teenaged boys who had been checking it out reluctantly cleared as the two women slid in.
"You know," Chi Chi declared as she buckled herself in. "I have to hand it to you. Tonight was exactly what I needed."
Bulma smiled closemouthed with delight, laying a look of love on her friend.
"Me, too," she confided.
The car turned on with a roar, and Bulma put it into reverse.
"Later, suckers," she called as they peeled away from the hamburger stand.
Bulma hadn't expected him to be waiting at her house when she pulled up.
The sudden quiet upon turning off the car was omnipresent as she got out. The street was quiet in the late night hours, the street lights dim and the dark, intimate. He leaned against his Porsche parked in the street, a dark James Dean, and she walked over to greet him.
"How did you know I lived here?" She asked cheekily. Obviously she lived here. It only said "Capsule Corporation" on the backside of it large enough to be seen from a mile away.
She couldn't help the smile curling on her face. "What are you up to?"
"I should ask the same of you." He stared at her outfit with ambivalence.
"Oh, this old thing?" Bulma laughed, looking down at her leather ensemble. "I took Chi Chi out clubbing. Didn't you know, it was goofball night at the club, no cover charge." She winked at him.
Vegeta snorted. "You two, clubbing?" He rested his arms against his chest. "Hard to imagine."
"Yeeeeah." Bulma pulled up close to him, tugging on his shirt collar. "Well, we weren't there very long before Chi Chi decked some guy who got handsy with her. Knocked him out clean. I have a question for you," she breathed against his neck. She had missed him.
"Hmm," he grunted.
She leaned into his ear, murmuring. "Have you ever wished a woman would leave a lipstick stain around your cock?" She bit his ear lobe delicately. "Because I happen to be a woman who is wearing an indecent shade of red lipstick."
"Have you been drinking?"
"Negative. I'm just like this." She drew her tongue over the curve of his ear. "I don't need alcohol to get excited just thinking about you."
She felt his face get warm.
She drew back.
"Are you blushing?" A smile split her face. "Is that what it takes to knock you down a peg or two? When I talk dirty to you?"
Vegeta looked to the side, embarrassment and irritation warring on his face, and she drew his face back to hers with her hands.
"Vulgar woman," he muttered as they stared at each other nose to nose.
She smiled up at him and then shrugged. "What can I say? I'm in a good mood. I had a good night. We made a fool of ourselves at the club and then went out for milkshakes. How 'bout you?" She peered up at him.
Her answer was two hands on her ass. "I was thinking you could show me the Maserati I watched you peel up in and maybe what kind of underwear you're wearing under all that leather."
She grinned, rubbing her nose against his. "If you like my Maserati, you should see my other cars."
His eyebrow rose.
Her eyes twinkled. "And, I'm not wearing any."
She felt his thumb glide up underneath the hem of her dress and caress her fleshy backside. Mischievously, she put her mouth on his neck, drawing her lips over his corded neck lightly. In the dark, leaning against him, she licked his salty flesh. She pressed her lips against his neck and looked back on her red lip print with the satisfaction of a graffiti artist signing his work.
"Impudent wench," he murmured huskily.
"I even shaved my legs," she purred.
His thumb trailed up, up, up, and she cocked her hips so that he had definitive proof she'd gone commando, grinning into his neck.
He gripped her bare ass in the moonlight as his other hand brushed her core, and she was just toying with the idea of falling to her knees for a particular kind of supplication when they were startled by the sound of shoes on pavement. She clutched his shirt, startled, as a figure appeared out of the darkness.
"Oh. My. Gosh. Is this that handsome man you keep telling me about, Bulma Briefs?"
With horror, Bulma rigidly peered over her shoulder to see her mother's cheery face beaming back at her in excitement.
"How do you do? I'm Bunny, Bulma's mother!" To her increasing mortification, her mother stuck her hand out for Vegeta to shake. Vegeta had already peeled himself away from her, standing almost comically straight and with a healthy space between them.
"How are you, Ms. Briefs?" Vegeta cleared his throat and shook her hand quickly with the same hand that not a moment earlier had been poised to enter her most private region. "I'm Vegeta. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Ohmygod," Bulma said, but no one heard her.
"Would you like to come in? Dr. Briefs and I are just watching television and I've got some popcorn on the stove, if you'd like some!"
"Ohmygod." Bulma didn't even know: was she announcing it out loud, or was it just whirling round and round in her head frenetically at this point?
"Thank you very much for your hospitality, but I was just getting ready to leave."
"Oh, that's a shame." Her mother's face dipped into a pout. Bunny stomped lightly with her heel in dissatisfaction. "Well, what are you doing tomorrow night? We would just love to have you over for dinner! Bulma and I were just talking about it! What's your favorite meal, I'll cook it for you! I could make chicken! I make a good baked chicken breast. Oh! Do you like pork? We could have stew! Oh, I'd have to go to the store and get yeast for dough, I'm all out. I'll make rolls to go with that stew, oh, you'll love it! Next Saturday at four sound good to you?"
Her mother's heart shaped face crinkled with a big smile, the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes doing nothing to diminish her classic beauty. Bulma looked between the two of them with horror. Wait, was she breathing? Had she breathed at all in the last minute?
Vegeta cleared his throat awkwardly.
"You know, Mom," Bulma butted in, "I'm not sure Vegeta has time—"
"Yes. Sure," Vegeta answered.
Bulma wasn't sure she heard right. In fact, she heard wrong. Most definitely. She heard wrong.
Bulma's mother looked like she was going to shoot off into space. "Oh, that's wonderful! Oh, I can't wait! Neither can Bulma, I'm sure! We will see you then! Have a wonderful night!" As Bulma stood reeling, Bunny turned to her with her hands clutched over her heart dramatically. "Oh, honey," she said, to Bulma's supreme embarrassment. "Isn't he just the handsomest thing? Even more handsome than Yamcha," she whispered. Bulma's mouth dropped. Bunny hid a giggle. "Oh my! I'm so mean! Well, I'll see you inside!"
Bulma and Vegeta watched Bunny make her way carefully through the grass in her heels before entering the large house.
It took a long moment for them to face each other.
"I'm sorry," Bulma immediately began, "I had no intention of you meeting my parents so soon or siccing my mother on you just yet—"
Vegeta ran his hand over his face and through his hair miserably, and then looked at her with wild eyes. "Are you done?" He snapped.
"What?"
"Are you done talking?"
"Wh—I guess so. Why—ooph." His mouth on hers halted the words from coming from her mouth, and to her confusion and delight, his tongue slipped into her mouth.
"Your mother makes me extremely uncomfortable," he grumbled against her mouth.
She burst into giggles.
"She grows on you."
"I just…came here to…say hi. Because I had to leave early this morning. That's all I wanted," he griped. "I've been busy." He glowered down at the street self-consciously.
She watched him get uncomfortable and frustrated in the starlight and there was something absolutely endearing about it. She smiled tenderly up at him.
"I'll see you Monday. I'll bring you lunch," he finished roughly, but pulled her in for another kiss before letting her go abruptly and getting in his car.
"Alright, big guy. See you soon." She backed up onto the sidewalk and watched him drive off, down the street and out of the old, historic neighborhood where her parents resided. She sighed, arms crossed, unconsciously resting her hand over her heart. When his taillights had disappeared, Bulma nearly skipped over the lawn, taking the stairs by two, falling into her bed, and clutching her pillow with a giant, lopsided smile.
Bulma glared at the clock. Veritably scowled at it.
10:45.
It wasn't noon yet. It wasn't even noon yet.
She hadn't even been able to pour herself a second cup of coffee from the beat up pot in her office. Just the one that she hadn't gotten to take a sip from yet. The mug she hadn't had any time to reach for, cold and stained, looking pathetic and unwanted. She picked it up anyway and sipped cautiously. The coffee was sludge in her mouth.
She grimaced and put the mug down.
She hadn't had any fucking coffee yet and she was already swamped.
Earl, one of her tow truck guys, had brought her not one but two cars this morning as she unlocked the door. One guy had strut in at seven, before they were even open, and demanded she fix his windshield wipers for free. One woman had drove her second generation Jetta in on a flat. Bulma found no leak. When Bulma had shocked the woman with the knowledge that one could air up tires, Bulma had asked with growing horror when the last time she'd had an oil change was. The woman hadn't been able to answer. What's an oil change? She'd let that woman quickly know how very, very important it was she get her oil changed as soon as possible, to which the woman had accused Bulma of fishing for money.
Another guy had drove his BMW in and asked her if he could speak to the mechanic about a sound his car was making. When she told him that she was the mechanic, he'd replied, "No, sweetheart, I need to speak with a male mechanic."
Not a half an hour ago, she'd went to change the oil in a Bus, the same year as her own, and been reminded several times by the owner that it was air-cooled and didn't need a filter. "No shit, sherlock," she'd growled under the chassis just as her hand slipped on the wrench, sending debris and oil into her face.
Monday was making itself known to her in very profound ways today.
Bulma fell into her office chair with a big sigh. She rested her chin in her palm for a moment, and then got out her notepad tiredly, scrawling a note above the name of a car and crossing another off her list. By god, if she didn't get at least one car done and out of her lot today….Well, she wasn't leaving until she did. She still had to file all this paperwork before it crowded her out of her desk. She probably aught to send a text to her mom asking her to go ahead and wrap dinner up for her.
She picked up the phone and tucked the pencil in between her teeth, dialing out on the old rotary phone. "Yeah, Keene?" She chomped on the pencil. "I need a delivery of some parts, and I need them by this afternoon, if you can manage it."
She swiveled and reached behind her, grabbing a pack of cigarettes. She hadn't been smoking as often lately unless she were just, er, freshly fucked (Vegeta had a way with that), but she definitely needed one now. She hadn't needed one so badly since she and her father had wrecked the rocket prototype they'd spent all year building.
She tamped one out and replaced the pencil in her mouth with the cigarette, tapping the pencil on the desk until she was taken off hold.
"What do you mean you can't get it to me until tomorrow? What about tonight?"
Bulma's head fell into her palm.
"Fine. Tomorrow morning. Seven o'clock. I'll be here. Bye." Bulma stood, grabbing a lighter and heading for the office behind her. She grabbed a two liter of Pepsi from the mini fridge and brought it back into the front room. It opened with a hiss, and it was the sweetest sound she'd heard all day.
She was lighting her cigarette and pouring the Pepsi into a large thermos when the bell rang, indicating someone had walked in. She didn't bother looking up. Just ten seconds. She just needed ten seconds to take a sip of carbonated ambrosia and a long drag off her cigarette and she'd be prepared for whatever life was going to hand her today.
Bulma blew smoke, and steeling herself, looked up. A woman in a sharp pantsuit was looking around, clutching a briefcase. Her features were sharp, her black hair cut in a blunt bob, her eyebrows thick and fiercely shaped ala Grace Jones. Bulma narrowed her eyes, assessing. The woman didn't look confused or uncomfortable, like most women who stumbled into her shop. She looked instead like a woman who knew exactly where she was in life.
Bulma took one last drag before putting out the cigarette and bent down to scribble one last note in the notepad. "Can I help you with something?" She said into the notepad, smoke curling out of her mouth.
The woman finally turned to her. "Are you the owner of this…business?"
"Yes, ma'am." She gave her a small smile before taking a sip of her Pepsi. She could have groaned with fulfillment.
"Ah. A woman entrepreneur. It's wonderful to see a woman succeeding in a man's world. In a man's field, rather." The woman smiled at Bulma, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Bulma's eyebrow rose, and she smiled tiredly. "Thank you," she responded, sincerely. "It's made clear every day just how much work needs to be done before my gender is secondary to my qualifications. Is there something I can help you with?" Bulma wiped her hands on her hips.
"I'm meeting someone here." The woman smiled again, but this one was cool. There was something really…unsettling…about this woman, something Bulma couldn't put her finger on.
"Car trouble?" Bulma grabbed her handkerchief and wrapped it around her head second-naturedly, knotting it on top, before coming around in front of the desk.
"Something like that," she cooed.
The woman's eyes raked over her, and Bulma knew that things had suddenly gotten real.
She leaned back on her desk and let the woman look, folding her arms across her chest as she took in her muddy, greasy boots, her stained, shapeless canvas jumpsuit, her greasy black hands and ashy face, dusted with debris. There was something she really didn't like about this woman, she realized, and she had a growing conviction that the woman's compliments were high-handed.
"So, I heard through the grapevine that you're good friends with the men at Bardock Vejita and Sons. Well, some of the men. And some better than others." She smiled sweetly.
Bulma's eyes narrowed. "Well, that's one way to start up a conversation. What is it exactly that you're digging for?"
The woman did her best to appear taken aback, and tried to recover. "No, not at all. I'm just wondering how men in their positions get to be friends with someone like you."
Bulma grit her teeth. "Are you suggesting that I'm too working class to have friends in law?"
"Well," the woman shrugged, "it's just the nature of these things. I was just curious."
"How I came to be friends with them is none of your business." She didn't have time for this shit. "Do you have business to do with me? Because I'd like to see you out if you do not."
The woman cut to the chase. "You are certainly as crude." Her smile was oily. "Tell me, do you enjoy embarrassing yourself around Vegeta? Look at you." She glanced at Bulma's work clothes. "He must be horrified to be seen with you."
Bulma's nostrils flared. She took a single step towards the woman, whose eyes, to Bulma's delight, widened fractionally. "You're right. Look at me. Underneath this jumpsuit I'm wearing high waisted briefs and my rattiest bra," Bulma admitted. "But you wouldn't believe the things Vegeta has done to me while wearing them," Bulma sneered as the woman's face crumpled with anger. "I don't know why you're here or who you're supposed to be meeting, but you've got ten seconds to get out of my shop before I show you just how low class I can be."
"Prove it." The woman smirked cuttingly. "I can't wait to slap you with an assault charge."
Her eyes widened as Bulma pushed up her sleeves.
"Look, I was just testing you. Honest." The woman held her hands up placatingly. "I'm Vegeta's friend. I have a sick sense of humor. That's one of the reasons we get along."
Bulma didn't believe it for a second.
"Honestly, I don't think Vegeta deserves you. You're a nice, hard working woman, but Vegeta…." She smiled as if they were sharing a joke. "Well, he's a total asshole. And a total slut. I mean, am I right?" The woman laughed without humor. It was a repugnant sound. "I mean, when we were dating, I can't tell you how many women he slept around with…."
Bulma's eyes widened. "You're a crazy ex!" It was all clear now. "You're just a bat shit crazy ex."
"Oh, I wouldn't say 'ex.' Vegeta and I never dated. We just screwed." She smiled sweetly. "Does he do that thing where he rubs your clit while he's fucking you from behind? I always loved that."
Steam erupted from Bulma's ears.
Bulma could deal with the nasty stuff spewing from the woman's mouth. She could endure the name calling and the insinuations. They were child's games. That this woman thought she could come into her shop and insult Vegeta, however, had Bulma tittering on a precipice.
She was barely aware when the bell rang and Vegeta walked past them swiftly, setting his briefcase on the front desk. "Sorry I'm late. I got held up in traffic." He turned to the women, and stiffened. And saw quite clearly that he was standing amidst an explosion waiting to happen.
Vegeta glowered at the woman in the pantsuit. "Fasha," he warned.
"Hi, Veggie." She winked at him. "So, is this thing your new girlfriend?" She pointed at Bulma.
"Do you know this woman?" Bulma snarled, looking at Vegeta with disbelief.
Vegeta scowled. "Fasha."
"I was just testing her." Fasha shrugged. "Just having fun. I meant no harm."
"Go home." Vegeta said decisively.
"Oh, Vegeta, don't take it so serious, I was just teasing the girl."
"Go home. Don't come back. We no longer need you. You're relieved of any obligation to us."
Fasha's eyes got wide. "Look, I'm sorry—"
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." Vegeta covered the distance between he and Bulma.
Bulma's fists were balled at her hips, but she felt more in control with Vegeta by her side.
"Look," Fasha said apologetically, holding out her hands, "I'll go back to the hotel. Let's meet for drinks tonight, shall we? Guess I just needed to vent a little," she simpered, shrugging. "We'll get started the right way this time, pretend this whole thing never happened."
"If I had to have drinks with you I'm afraid I'd have to knock your teeth down your throat first," Bulma snapped. "Now get out of my shop."
Fasha's mouth opened and closed, and then she backpedalled. "I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot—"
Bulma stepped forward once more. "Get the hell out of here before I show you just how undaunted when threatened with an assault charge someone like me can be."
Fasha pivoted and threw the door open, and they watched her hustle across the gravel lot in her heels.
Bulma grit her teeth as the woman stepped into her car.
Bitch didn't even drive an import.
Bulma whipped around. "You wanna tell me exactly what all that was about?"
Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"
Bulma couldn't help it. She was losing her cool. She began pacing frantically, walking behind her desk and grabbing for her pack of cigarettes. She lit one and blew smoke angrily. "Is she an ex of yours?"
He scowled. "We never dated."
"But slept together, evidently," Bulma retorted sarcastically. "She let me know just what her favorite sexual positions with you were before she asked me if you were still impressing all the ladies with them. Have you got something to say for yourself? Why the fuck was she here?"
It looked like Vegeta truly didn't know what to say. Bulma pinched the cigarette between her mouth and inhaled hard before flicking it across the room.
She strode up to him and jabbed him hard in the chest. "Look here, buddy. You need to tell me now and right now if we are a thing. Are we dating? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? How serious is this? Because I'm not dealing with crazy, toxic ex's, or, or past fuck buddies, unless I know exactly where I stand."
Bulma exhaled hard and glared up at him. Though he was working to maintain control, his face was drawn and unsettled.
"I thought I told you what I wanted when we, you know." His cheeks reddened lightly, and he frowned deeply in frustration with himself. "When we made up," he finished sheepishly.
"Tell me what?" Her head cocked sarcastically. "Tell me that I drove you crazy? Sure. Tell me that you desired me? Checked it off the list. But where we stand? Whether or not I am just your booty call? I mean, I thought there was something more to this, but the fact that you only spend time with me when you want something specifically from me has me wondering!"
Bulma didn't understand why she was so angry, but she was. She was livid. She was tired of feeling second to all.
"Obviously I give a damn." He raised his voice. "Why else would I waste my time with you, unless I liked your company?"
"Define 'company,'" she said dryly.
"You wound me," he replied mockingly.
"She said you two dated, and you cheated on her. Is that true?"
"We never dated," he snarled. "This isn't something I feel is courteous or appropriate to talk with you about."
"Appropriate?" Bulma laughed loudly. "I've just been notified of how inappropriate the fact of my existence is relative to yours. I think I can handle it."
"We…had a thing…once or twice. That's it." Vegeta glared at the wall behind her, searching for the shreds of his self-control. "She's just trying to mess with you."
"And did you sleep with other women while you were with her?"
Vegeta's face hardened. "Fasha and I were never committed."
Bulma laughed harshly. "So you were a playboy."
"There was a time when I made perfectly reasonable decisions and was a free man, yes," he countered.
"Are you someone who sleeps around a lot? Are you attracted to crazy women or something? Tell me, am I novel or exotic to you? Am I one type in a whole retinue of women that you can now check off your list?" Bulma stepped backwards, throwing her arms out wide. "Because I'm wondering how on earth I could deserve you. I mean, I'm lucky to have bagged you, right? I should be grateful someone as special as you wants to muck around in the dirt with me. Am I right?"
"No, goddamnet!" He yelled.
"Then why would you have ever bothered with someone like her, if you and that…that slimy woman weren't compatible in some way?" Bulma held her hands out. "I get it. She was baiting me. That was her game all along, it was grossly apparent, and I maintain a healthy amount of skepticism for everything that came out of her mouth." Her voice broke. "But all I can think now is that you must have found something valuable about her to have any kind of relationship with her, which makes me wonder about the kind of person you are, which makes me wonder if that's why you spend all your time working, because I'm not as important to you as your ambition."
Vegeta's fists balled at his hips, and he looked torn between several emotions, one which was clearly winning, for better or for worse: Indignation.
"What do you want from me? Do you want me to admit she's a terrible person? Fine! That's no surprise, that's evident to us all!" Vegeta snarled and began pacing. "I had hired her to work for the new firm because she has outstanding qualifications in our field and we worked together in the Navy. I trusted her to have complete mastery over the position I was offering her. I invited her here to your shop before we'd even spoke in person because I wanted her to know that I was in a committed relationship! Goddamnet!" He looked mad enough to hit something. He was not accustomed to being wrong or to being scolded. "Fasha feeds on drama. I thought I'd introduce you two and I'd prevent any from happening." He cursed and turned away from her. "I should have never taken I-80," he grumbled, running his hand down his face. "Fucking traffic. I could have been here earlier."
Bulma stared at him with clenched teeth and watery eyes. "Are you in a committed relationship?" He looked up at her, and she shifted, tightening the arms around her chest. "Well, are you?"
They regarded each other for a moment in tense silence.
Vegeta quickly breached the distance between them and drew her close, despite her stiffness.
"Fasha is a bitch," he rasped, "but she's highly organized and, believe it or not, provides excellent customer service. I thought she would be an asset to the firm. Inviting her here was a mistake on my part. If she can't spend a day in West City without causing strife in my personal life, then she doesn't need to belong in my work life."
Bulma's fists balled up against his chest and she looked up at him with barely restrained ire. "You're an idiot," she said, and Vegeta glanced at her moodily. "I'm glad you can admit that."
He grunted, disagreeing.
She pulled his face down to hers, her brows knitted with frustration. "Vegeta, why me? How do we, we fit together? I don't understand. I'm not a swanky white collar career woman, I'm not tall and thin and blonde or fashionable, I don't have it all together, I'm not some lawyer's child-bearing trophy wife.…" She looked at him with grief in her eyes. "I want to hear it from your lips. If you want me, then you have to take all of me. Because I can't do this anymore without knowing what I am to you. I think I'm falling for you! I can't do this anymore unless we're exclusive. I can't just be your friend with benefits. I want to be more than that."
She disengaged from his arms and backed away from him, concerned for the first time that she'd crossed some boundary. Bull, some voice chided within her. I have a right to know. Without giving it any thought she strode behind the desk and grabbed her backpack from the locker in her office. She felt Vegeta's eyes on her.
"Look," she said, coming to a halt on her way to the door, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm closing up shop for the day. I can't work like this. I'll give you some time to think on it. It's obviously not something to make a decision about flippantly—"
"What's to think about?" He growled.
She stalled.
"Would you just…would you hold on a minute?" He barked.
She opened her mouth to inform him of his profound talent at being thickheaded when he interrupted her. "I want Bulma. Just Bulma. There hasn't been a girl in years and there hasn't been a girl like you ever. Can we move on already?" He tried to retain some dignity, standing there upright, scowling at the floor.
"No. No, we can't," she murmured, walking over to him. "Vegeta no'Ouji, are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?" She stopped in front of him.
He rolled his eyes, sulking. "We're not teenagers."
"No, we're not," she agreed, "we're adults. And I need to know if you, another adult, wants to see me…exclusively…" She murmured from below him, before taking a deep breath and holding it.
He looked into her bright eyes before stuffing his hands into her curls, holding her head straight. "Yes! For cripe's sakes. Why else would I give a shit about another woman coming to grips with my relationship with you before I'd even hired her?"
"Because you like this booty," Bulma replied saucily. "And you don't want to lose it."
"Please," he muttered, eyes sliding to the corners.
"Vegeta," she said commandingly, "I will fight a bitch for you." She looked up at him firmly. "I will fuck you in the middle of the street on a Saturday night and then introduce you to my mother. I'll work on your Ghia and do my best not to make a mess of your kitchen in the mornings when I'm half-awake. I'll give you your space because I know your job means a lot to you," she continued softly, "but I just need to know that those things, that my feelings, will be reciprocated, and my own eccentricities respected." They stared at one another.
"Move in with me," he resolved.
Bulma's eyebrows furrowed. "What? That's a terrible idea. You're a neat freak, and I'm a mess—"
"Shut up," he said, and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her knees went weak with it. "Are you still closing up?"
"Why?"
"Because I want to take you home with me. Now."
"Right now? It's not even noon."
"Right now. And then we'll order out for dinner. And we won't get out of bed until morning." His voice had turned husky and he was kissing her over and over again.
"Is that right?" He was making her backpedal towards the front door, and without being able to turn her head—caught between his lips and his hands clutching her—she clumsily reached out and switched the open sign to closed before he pushed her out the door.
He dipped his tongue into her mouth and clutched her breathlessly to him. Her tongue fought back, and he grabbed it lightly with his teeth before sucking on it. "You animal," she whispered.
"I'll show you animal," he rumbled, unzipping her jumpsuit to her belly and pawing at her breasts through her ragged bra.
A throat cleared to their right, and they both glanced over, where the guy with the BMW from earlier stood, jingling his keys at them impatiently. "Hey, can I get some help here?"
"No," Vegeta growled, before pushing Bulma the rest of the way against his Ghia, kissing her frantically while searching for the door handle.
They didn't get far.
They drove with the windows down, down the highway and off the exit ramp into the upper class neighborhood he resided in, the wind blowing their hair around, the sun on their skin.
She leaned over and left bruises on his neck with her mouth as they pulled into the complex.
He stomped on the brakes after swerving into the garage. Grabbing the front of her jumpsuit, he pulled her into his lap and kissed her scorchingly. He yanked her jumpsuit down over her shoulders and mouthed her breasts through the worn fabric of her bra. When she began complaining about the steering wheel biting into her back, they walked as inconspicuously as they could down the sidewalk and up the stairs to his condo. She grabbed for his hand, and he let her.
Just as he inserted the key into the doorknob and Bulma grabbed his hard bulge from behind playfully, the door across the deck opened. Vegeta's neighbor stepped out, waving hello to them both. Bulma smiled cheerily and waved, but Vegeta pulled her inside without looking at him, slamming the door.
They made it about halfway through the living room before he'd stripped her of her jumpsuit, but then there was the problem with her boots. She fell onto the couch laughing and unlaced them patiently, but once they were unlaced and she was trying unsuccessfully to pry them off her heels with her toes, Vegeta ripped them off her feet.
He inserted himself between her legs domineeringly and pulled her towards him by the hips, causing her to fall onto her back breathlessly.
She could hear dogs barking and the distant screams of children from the park across the street as Vegeta's mouth sucked at her clit with abandon until she shrieked. He picked her languid body up and she threw her legs around his hips, making his way toward his bedroom but falling into the hallway wall as she ground against him, giggling. His mouth found purchase on her neck, her collar, the texture of the wall biting into her bare back, and then he was pulling her hair to angle her head so that he could suck at her jaw. She inhaled raggedly, and he seemed to remember what he had been doing. Somehow they made it into his room.
The bed frame knocked against the wall roughly; the sheets wound around Bulma's legs until she was stuck in them and Vegeta ripped them off the bed with impatience; Bulma's head dangled off the bed as she groaned out louder and louder. "I'm cumming!" She cried without restraint, and his mouth found hers, kissing her deep as she clutched his shoulders and her body clenched around his hard length forcefully. Vegeta cried out and fell, catching himself on his palms on either side of her head. She wound her fingers in his hair, breathing heavily, and pulled him down to her, kissing him delicately, softly, sweetly, until Vegeta leaned over, snatched the blanket from off the floor, tossed it over them and settled himself against her. She was already falling asleep.
It was late when she heard the knock on the door. The sun was halfway through its slow descent into the horizon, and Bulma watched it wash the kitchen cabinets in its amber glow. With the second knock, she assumed Vegeta had forgotten his keys and locked himself out, and she dragged her feet across the floor to the front door. Without thinking, she opened the front door wearing Vegeta's robe.
And came face to face with Goku.
"Goku!" Bulma clutched the front of her robe closed.
"Bulma?" Goku looked nervous and clammy.
"Goku," Bulma said, finding her voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" She looked around in paranoia. "I love you to death, but I'm going to need you to get out of here. Vegeta isn't very happy with you," she finished wistfully.
"Is he here?" Goku peered over her. After all, he was much taller than she was.
"No, he ran to grab something to eat."
"Will he be back soon?"
"I must, again, express my disapproval of you talking to him." Bulma leaned against the doorway and looked at her friend with concern. "He's not ready to talk, Goku," she reminded him sadly.
Goku looked torn. His mouth slanted. "Well, when he comes back, can you just tell him I'll be here when he's ready?"
"Oh, Goku. You are too nice." Bulma smiled up at him affectionately, and Goku managed to return it somewhat.
Bulma's face collapsed into a frown abruptly. "Goku, why are you making Chi Chi miserable?"
He looked accosted. "What?" His brows knit with confusion. "I'm doing no such thing."
"I thought you loved her. Do you love her?" Bulma squinted at him. "I don't know if you do. Enough."
"What are you talking about?" He wailed.
"Why are you breaking her heart!" Bulma threw her hands up in the air and then thought better of it, pulling the chest closed on the robe again.
"I have no idea what you're—"
She grabbed him by his work shirt and pulled him close. "Goku, you are such a dork. Chi Chi is four months pregnant and you haven't even popped the question yet! For shame!"
Goku blanched. "What?" He said weakly.
"Chi Chi thinks you don't love her enough to make this thing between you official. I mean, after all, you two have started a family together. Don't make me disappointed, Goku." She tugged on his shirt, dragging him further down so he was looking into her eyes. "I will be very, very upset if you don't go get a ring soon and propose to my best friend."
"I didn't know—"
They both turned their heads when they felt someone's presence.
Vegeta stood at the head of the stairs, a takeout bag in hand, glaring daggers at Goku.
Goku stood up abruptly, smoothing down his shirt. Bulma helped him, patting his chest supportively.
"Bye, Goku," she said winsomely.
Goku made his way carefully around Vegeta, as Vegeta walked forward, eyes fixed on Goku, radiating hostility. Goku opened his mouth to speak to Vegeta, thought better of it, and hustled down the stairs.
He redirected his gaze to Bulma, fixing her with a disapproving look. "I bring you food, and this is how you repay me?"
She smiled as he walked in. "Ah, the sweet smell of lo mein." She closed the front door and followed him into the kitchen. He reached into the paper bag and threw a bag of almond cookies onto the table. "Ooh, cookies! A man after my own heart." She beamed at him, and he grunted.
"What did that dope want? How could he dare to show his face at my doorstep?"
"Vegeta, honey," she began, popping an egg roll into her mouth, "Goku isn't afraid of you. He's afraid of losing you as a friend."
"Don't get soft on me. I have no stomach for it today."
He laid their carryout boxes out in front of them and tossed a fork in her direction.
"He just wanted to talk to you. I told him it might not be a good idea right now, so he just asked me to tell you that he's ready to talk when you are."
Vegeta snorted like that was really funny, digging into his noodles.
"I won't have you using my friend as a punching bag," she threatened, and he rolled his eyes. She shoved a fork full of noodles into her mouth. "You know," she commented slyly, "you're like estranged lovers, a little bit." She glanced up at him from a mouthful of noodles. Vegeta glared at her, and she smiled, dangling noodles.
"If you care for him so much, why were you threatening him when I walked up?"
Bulma dug around in her box looking for a baby corn, and upon finding it, slid it off her fork with her teeth and chewed. "Because he hasn't asked Chi Chi to marry him yet and it's making her crazy." Bulma swallowed and reached for a napkin. "She's had morning sickness for months and he's been completely oblivious to it, bless her heart. When she finally told him it was because she's pregnant, he pretty much shrugged and said, 'okay.'" She crossed her eyes, an exaggerated imitation of Goku. "He is completely devoid of relationship skills sometimes," she groused.
Bulma stopped chewing and looked up, meeting Vegeta's gaze. "Whoops. That's supposed to be confidential."
Vegeta's eyes narrowed.
"She's pregnant?"
"Yes?" Bulma answered uncertainly.
Vegeta stared down at his noodles.
"That's why he took the job, Vegeta," she answered softly. "To take care of his family." Half right, but whatever. It got the point across.
"Oh, shove it," Vegeta grumbled, but not harshly. He looked back up at her intensely. "That's why you were standing outside half-naked with his shirt in your fist?"
Bulma stared, and then a grin blossomed on her face. "You're jealous," she accused him playfully.
He snorted and made himself busy with his dinner.
"Actually, I was trying to threaten him. I told him if he didn't propose to her soon I was going to knock his block off."
She glanced up to gauge his reaction and found him grinning at her. It was so rare an expression from him, and so infectious, that it made her smile, too.
"A woman after my own heart."