UK English. I don't own the characters. In this chapter, Bulma and Vegeta finally hash it out.
Vegeta turned up the shower's heat as hot as it would go, filling the cubicle with clouds of humid steam. Lathering up a bar of soap, he scrubbed his skin roughly, shuddering as he remembered Cell disintegrating before him. He felt as though he were covered in Cell's particles and no matter how much he washed he couldn't scrub them off. He couldn't wash away the scent of the battle and the bitter tang of his failure.
Giving up, Vegeta dropped the soap, and braced his hands on the shower wall, letting the hot water pour in rivulets down his back, each droplet a white-hot stinging needle piercing his skin.
As he stood there, images of the battle flashed through his mind, but they kept circling back to that one moment. He'd been so close. If he'd been one second faster he could have snatched her away in time. Protected her from Cell's blast.
She'd been scared when she looked at him, but her eyes had also been filled with trust. She'd trusted him, and he'd let her down in the worst possible way.
Vegeta bowed his head and pressed it against the wall. He concentrated on breathing in and out, trying to clear his mind, to move past that moment, but he felt frozen in time.
He didn't move, even when the water turned from hot to lukewarm.
He didn't move, even when the water turned icy cold, racking his body with involuntary shivers.
He didn't move until he sensed a small ki at the door of the lakehouse.
Snapping out of his reverie, Vegeta turned off the shower, then dried off briskly. He pulled on some loose track pants, then made his way to the source of the ki, drying his hair with a towel as he moved through the house.
When he stepped into the living room, he stopped in his tracks.
She'd let herself in and she stood there, barefoot on the sheepskin rug. The golden light of the fireplace danced across her and her flowery dress, making her look like an ethereal nymph who could disappear at any moment.
She was beautiful.
She'd always been beautiful, but somehow Vegeta had expected her to be like he was after he'd first been wished back. A wraith. A ghost of what she had been. But if anything she was even more alive. Her blue eyes piercing, her mouth set, she looked furious, like an avenging angel.
Vegeta swallowed. He didn't deserve her, and she was here to tell him that.
"How could you?" she asked in a whisper.
Vegeta inhaled sharply at her hurt tone. Gods, he'd tried to save her. She had to know that. "Bulma, I-"
"Don't 'Bulma' me!" She cut him off, placing her hands on her hips. "Of all the selfish things you've done, this tops them all!"
"But I-"
"I've given you everything you wanted. Everything you needed! What is so wrong with me that you want to go to the ends of the universe? What exactly are you going to do in space anyway?"
Vegeta opened and closed his mouth, completely baffled.
"Well?" She raised an imperious eyebrow.
Annoyance flashed through him, the feeling almost a relief because of its temporary replacement of his overwhelming guilt. He stepped fully into the room, tossing the towel on the back of a chair, then approached her, using the time to attempt to make sense of her words.
"Bulma." He stopped in front of her, drinking her in. His fingers twitched, wanting to touch her to prove that she was real but he was scared that if he did she'd disappear, crumble to dust before his eyes. "I don't know what you are talking about."
As Vegeta stepped towards her, coming into the low light of the dying fire, she drew in a gasp. He looked freaking gorgeous, bare chest and clad only in low slung pants that beautifully framed the V of his hips. But he also looked exhausted. He still wore faint signs of the battle - green bruises in the shape of fingermarks, flushed skin that looked raw from healing wounds, red eyes with purple circles around them.
With his brow furrowed, and shoulders slumped, he seemed… sad, despite his obvious irritation.
"I don't know what you are talking about," he repeated, "but I… I'm so…" He reached out and his fingers hovered millimetres from her face before he dropped them again. "You asked me to save you and I wasn't fast enough."
Bulma frowned. "I didn't ask you to save me. I certainly didn't expect it. There was no way you could have gotten there in time."
"But you said…" His brow crinkled in confusion. "Just before you died you said 'save me'."
"Save Earth." Bulma tentatively placed a hand on his chest. He was unusually cool to the touch and trembling ever so slightly. "I asked you to save Earth. And you did. Quite brilliantly according to everyone else."
Vegeta stared at her looking more than a little dumbfounded.
"Is this why you want to go to space with Goku?" she asked.
Vegeta stiffened under her hand. "What?"
"Space. With Goku." She moved her hand to touch his forehead. He was cool there as well. Was he sick? Had the battle addled his brain? "Goku came and asked you if you wanted to come with him to space and use your ship."
A gentle hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her fingers away from his skin. "Are you mad?" he asked with a low chuckle. "Did you really think I would purposely lock myself up in a ship with Kakarot for an extended period of time? Let alone go galavanting around space playing hero with him?"
Bulma stared at him, at the incredulous lift of his eyebrows, and the scrunch of disgust on his nose, and suddenly realised what an idiot she'd been. "Well, when you put it like that…"
"I told him he could have the ship."
Bulma's heart raced in an upbeat tattoo. "Why?"
"I won't be needing it."
Bulma searched his face. He'd placed a mask over his expression, his features stiff and unreadable.
"Why?" she asked again.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Perhaps. But given we both seem to have completely misunderstood the other I need you to say it."
Vegeta let go of her wrist, then ran his palm over his face with a sigh. "I don't need the ship because I have no intention of leaving Earth."
Bulma stared at him, hearing the words but not quite registering them.
Vegeta began to pace in front of her. "When you died, I realised there was no point in getting stronger, no point in reaching Super Saiyan, no point to ascending if I couldn't…" He broke off and stood still, his gaze boring into hers. "He killed you and all I could do was watch. Leaving here would mean that you and the boy are unprotected and I am not willing to do that."
He was staying. Joy flooded through her and she broke out into a grin.
He was staying.
She reached out and ran her fingers gently over the bruises on his neck, the visual proof that he'd been willing to lay down his life for Earth, for the Z fighters. For her.
"That's good," she whispered, dragging her hand up to cup his cheek. "Because I'm not willing to let you leave."
When she leaned forward and pressed her soft lips to his, Vegeta started, drawing in a quick breath and stiffening at the unexpected contact.
She drew back, clearly disappointed at his response. He could have kicked himself for reacting that way, but he felt on edge. Electric. Combustible… if he let her touch him like that he'd burst into flames and take her down with him.
"You're really here," he found himself saying out loud.
"Yes." Bulma frowned in puzzlement. "If you'd come to see the dragon granting wishes you'd know that."
Vegeta flushed but continued to stare fiercely at her, almost afraid to tear his gaze away in case she vanished. "But do you feel like you are here? Do you…" He clicked his tongue in frustration, struggling to describe what he meant. "Do you feel alive?"
Bulma drew in a breath, as if about to answer, but then paused. Slowly, recognition crossed her face. "Yes. And no," she said finally. "I feel like I have one foot still in the afterlife. Like not all of me came back. Did you feel like that?"
"Yes." He hesitated a moment before admitting the truth. "At times I still do."
"Does anything help?"
Vegeta considered the question, then let out a low laugh as he realised the answer. "You." Tentatively, he reached out and touched her hair, sliding the soft strands between his fingers. "You help."
"Maybe you can help me too."
Slowly, he placed one hand on the wall behind her, bracing himself. He shifted the hand playing with her hair to trail across her collar bone. Warm and real under his fingers, she shivered softly, her eyes wide and expectant.
"Very well," he agreed, his voice coming out in a rasp.
Then he kissed her, featherlight at first, still half afraid that this was all a dream, and that he'd wake up and she would still be dead. But she responded eagerly, her lips soft and coaxing, and suddenly he was pressed up against her, desperately needing the closeness, one hand in her hair the other on the wall to keep himself steady, kissing her like it could grant him the immortality that he'd once so desperately wanted.
Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer still, the thin fabric of her dress feeling like nothing between them and yet too much at the same time. He dropped his hand from the wall and placed it on her thigh, sliding the bottom of her dress slowly up her smooth leg.
Gods, he had gone far too long without her. She was soft and pliable in his arms and his body screamed at him to just get on with it, but Vegeta ignored his own desperate needs. He forced himself to take his time, reacquainting himself once more with her, breathing every inch of her in.
As his hand crept higher, Bulma let out a soft whimper that nearly broke his thin control. "Are you sure you want to continue this?" he asked, moving his mouth to the side of her neck and kissing her softly, right where he knew it would make her squirm. "Because soon I won't be able to stop."
Bulma tilted her head to give him better access and laughed softly. "Even if Cell came back from the dead I wouldn't want you to stop."
Vegeta took a step back, releasing her completely and hating it, but knowing things would end far too soon if he didn't. "Take off the dress."
Bulma quirked an eyebrow but undid the first of the small buttons that ran down the front of her dress. When she got to the second, she hesitated. "You should know, I've had a baby."
"Really." Vegeta folded his arms in front of him, not sure where this was going. "I hadn't noticed."
She undid the second button. "My body might be a little different."
Vegeta eyed her breasts as she finally undid the third button. They looked a little larger than he remembered. "I shall prepare myself for the worst," he said solemnly, uncrossing his arms.
In silence, she undid the rest of the buttons.
Frowning, Vegeta tried to see what was different. "You're wearing different underwear?" he guessed. She wore a simple bra and underpants, not the lacy confection he was used to finding under there.
Bulma glanced down. "Oh. Yes. I haven't had much use for lingerie since you've been gone."
A sudden thought struck him. "You haven't uh…" He wrinkled his nose, the mere thought distasteful. "Copulated with another?"
A giggle escaped her and she shook her head. "Of course not!" Suddenly her smile disappeared. "Why? Have you?"
Vegeta cocked his head, intrigued that she cared about his answer. "No."
"Oh. Good. That's good." Bulma gave him a nervous smile, then dropped her dress to the floor. As much as Vegeta wanted to leap on her and rut like an animal, he remained where he was, waiting.
They both stood there for a moment, taking each other in. He'd spent many nights in space - far more than he would ever admit - dreaming about seeing her like this. The dreams didn't come anywhere close to reality.
Deciding he'd had enough waiting, he moved forward and scooped her into his arms, grinning at her soft shriek. Gently he lay her down on the plush sheepskin rug, watching the firelight cast patterns on her skin as he hovered over her. Up close he could see the silver markings on her breasts and stomach. Battle scars from the honour of carrying his child.
With one hand he traced the marks on her chest, before trailing down to her stomach and placing the flat of his hand on it.
"I could ask the dragon to take them away," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Would you wish away my scars?" Vegeta countered.
Bulma lifted a hand and touched a particularly nasty line running up his abdomen. "No. They are part of who you are."
He shifted down and placed his lips on her stomach, kissing it softly. "You are a warrior. Scars are nothing to be ashamed of."
He moved up and kissed her mouth, and she responded so eagerly that Vegeta knew she hadn't been lying when she said that there had been no one else.
Of course, he wouldn't have blamed her if there had been. He was completely undeserving of her. Undeserving, but not stupid. He knew when to accept a gift for what it was.
Tasting salt, Vegeta pulled back. She stared back at him looking dazed, and he was shocked to notice tears rolling down her cheeks. He touched her damp face with his fingers. "Are these sad?"
"No," she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek as well. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop."
He nodded in response, words well beyond his capability, and did as she asked. When her tears finally disappeared and she let out a moan, it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.
Afterwards, they stayed there, limbs entangled, both trembling from the aftershocks. Eventually, he rolled off her, but stayed lying next to her, spent, satiated and completely physically and mentally drained, wishing he could remain like this forever.
He never wanted to leave. Because, for the first time in his life, Vegeta felt like he was home.
Sorry for making you wait for them to finally talk! I really wanted to drag out the dramatic tension. I hope it was worth the wait?
If you prefer things a little smuttier check out the AO3 version of this chapter.