Cannot Spit It Out
Summary: Royalty is born with elegant panache and elocution and Vegeta is a prime example of this.
"Look, Vegeta you've been staring at me all day, so either get what you want or get out of my way!"
"..." Vegeta muttered at her, fists clenching a bit at his sides. He forced them to relax.
"Hmm~? You wanted to say something?" Bulma spun fully around in her chair to face him. "Care to share with the rest of class?"
"I— We— Should—" Stops and starts like an old car, Vegeta sputtered with something at the tip of his tongue, getting progressively more frustrated with each unsaid sentence. "So I've— I mean— Have you ever thought—"
Bulma thought this was suddenly the best thing to happen all day, watching Himself clearly having trouble with something. Probably the very thought of asking for help. She can't help herself to a bit of prodding, seeing him completely out of his element is too adorable.
"What is it Lassie? Did Timmy fall down the well? Do we need Goku over here to protect us all?"
As she spoke, Vegeta got redder and redder as he tried to slip a word in edgewise between hers, until the last sentence where he finally shouted over her.
"WOMAN! I'D GIVE MY LIFE TO PROTECT YOU AND OUR CHILD, WE HAVE NO NEED FOR THE MORON HERE! YOU! INFURIATING! HARPY!"
He spun around and slammed his way out, suddenly needing to something to pummel out his emotions.
"... Protect me and our child?"
Oh.
Oh my.
Notes:
Set after Cell Saga.
Which I guess makes name dropping Goku even more of a dig because he is dead.
Again.