Chapter 4

"Another round of shots on Vegeta!" Yamcha called out, beaming through red-tinted cheeks. The girls at the table erupted in a fit of giggles, turning into obnoxious whoo-girls the more the alcohol seeped into their systems. Bulma wasn't one to turn down free drinks yet eyed Vegeta curiously. She wasn't aware of any recent change on his part to generously allow the team to get drunk off his dime and wondered if perhaps he had actually changed for the better over the year and a half she was away. His soured face gave away that the benefit for the rest of the group appeared to be only one-sided.

"Why does he keep saying that?" She whispered loudly over the raucous noise of their troupe.

He let out a perturbed grunt as Yamcha grabbed the attention of their slim brunette waitress to place another order.

"There was an agreement. But the tab will stop sooner rather than later if he knows what's good for him." Vegeta warned, aiming a directed glare over to his tipsy, scar-faced teammate who balked once trapped under his threatening gaze then nodded with a clear acknowledgment that Vegeta's forced patronage had ended.

Bulma snickered as Yamcha threw his hands up in a truce, cheesy grin plastered as he returned to his beer.

She shook her head, reminded of all the good times they had at the Red Ribbon Pub, their ragtag group of friends and coworkers winding down after practice once a month. All had seemed to have stayed the same while she was away. For her, being at the bar, like she was 19 again, was a pleasant collection of memories dotted with a few not so great ones. Seated at their favore booth amid her favorite people, Bulma made the conscious effort to not think of any current responsibilities. She just wanted to blissfully wallow in the past, if only for one night.

At one end of the large table, Chichi was busy talking Goku's ear off as he occupied himself with trying to erect a tower of sugar packets. Launch, Yamcha and Piccolo had moved in next to her, animatedly arguing about the latest superhero movie's stunt work and which one of them would do better replicating performances. Bulma sat, chin perched at the heels of her hands as she licked the watermelon vodka droplets from her lips, keenly interested in the chatter of her teammates. Their joy was as intoxicating as the drinks.

She felt Vegeta adjust subtly next to her. He was only an arm's length away, small enough distance to reach out, lost in her visions of a more immature time, ready to indulge in the delusional happiness of the past. It would be nice to go back to how it was. They could all be silly friends again. Take risks. Make mistakes. He had invited her out, of course. The two of them could even...

No.

She stilled her snaking fingers she suddenly realized were unconsciously making their way over to the arm holding his own glass, swirling the contents absentmindedly, unaware of young Bulma's stupid intentions of reliving old times.

It was only when she drew her arms into herself quickly did he finally bring his attention back and observed her suspiciously before changing his expression to his more typical unreadable one.

"It's really cool you guys still do this once a month." She said casually through a smile, attempting to gauge his attention by nudging him with her elbow.

"I've been told it's important to take a rest day. Although, after getting shitfaced, some of us are going to need more than one to recuperate." He said into his drink, swirling the dark liquid before taking a swig and indicating an eyebrow to Chi Chi, a giggling and hiccuping mess hanging onto Goku's bicep while he attempted to steady her.

She sat for a second, watching them be weirdly handsy for friends until they stopped talking entirely and began to kiss as if no one was watching. Well, that's new. "So how long has that been going on?" She elbowed her partner with gusto and stunned raised brow.

"Weeks? Months? Don't know. Don't care." He replied flippantly, eyeing the waitress as she carefully teetered the last shots of the night to their noisy table. Vegeta downed the green liquid the moment his fingers wrapped around the glass.

She hummed to herself, looking away from the adorable embrace of two of her friends in wistful longing. It was sweet to see their evident happiness, even if she wasn't in the loop until moments before. Bulma smiled softly, wondering of all that she had missed even if their group's members had all stayed the same.

She watched with a soft chuckle as Piccolo and Yamcha attempted an arm wrestle with Launch preparing to best the winner when she heard the light scrape of a glass being pushed towards her, the neon green liquid sloshing against the curved opaque surface, distorting the outline of his fingers as the drink came into view…

She heard the dull scrape of the glass on the table pushed toward her and grinned. The neon pink alcohol swirled daintily as she touched his hand while picking it up. Holding it to her lips, a coy smile crossed her face as she observed him crookedly.

"Wanna try it?" She enticed, wiggling it in her slim fingers. Vegeta always looked so unamused.

"No. It's too sweet." He rejected and she pouted somewhat, raising it to her mouth, taking a sip with a fake sneer.

"Killjoy. It's vanilla cupcake. If you tried it, I bet you'd like it." She replied, with a slur before downing the rest in a satisfied burning exhale.

She leaned more into him, the drinks making her slightly more topheavy than she expected. Relishing in his cool hand on her warmed cheek, he lifted her chin with a single digit.

A moment passed before her brain could register his lips on hers, his tongue gliding only on her lower lip before they parted.

"There. I tried it. It's still too sweet." He leaned toward her ear as she nuzzled into his neck, holding on for balance, "It does taste better on you, though."

Bulma's eyes drifted closed, feeling safe against his chest but opened her heavy lids at the raucous howling from the rest of her teammates.

"Aw, Bulma and Vegeta." Goku teased in a dopey grin from his place at Vegeta's left only to have found himself unceremoniously on the floor in a drunken heap after Vegeta pushed him off his seat with a grunt.

"Shut up," Vegeta growled as he rolled his eyes, lifting himself and the clingy woman attached to his neck. With an arm around her waist for balance, they headed for the door. "Let's get you home." He whispered into her crown as she gripped his forearms with a groan in dizzy agreement...

Her gaze refocused to the present when the green alcohol glinted under the lights above. She threw it back with a swig, giving him a thankful smile which he returned in a tense uptick of what appeared to be a smile back before looking off.

He took care of me. Held my hair when I threw up. She hadn't gotten drunk like that in several years. She did appreciate his protective nature interwoven within his outwardly temperamental and harsh demeanor. A rare, kind gesture, expressed in privacy. Something to miss.

The soothing effect of the drink swam in her stomach with both a warming, pleasant recollection and a dreadful trepidation of the 25-pound secret at home.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked and she grinned wide, hoping he hadn't noticed her misplaced emotional turmoil moments before.

"Yup. This is the most fun I've had in a while. I missed being with the group." She admitted fondly.

"I'm glad you could take a night off." He admitted, glancing furtively to the side.

"Yeah, it's nice of my parents to let me." She joked and immediately regretted her choice of words as he slowly turned his gaze to observe her more keenly.

"Are you living with your parents?" He questioned after a few stifling seconds, the gears turning behind his dark eyes.

"Temporarily.." Bulma supplied cautiously. Not yet. Too soon. As he opened his mouth to question further, Yamcha made his presence known over Vegeta's shoulder as he bumped into the man from behind.

"So how are the lovebirds doing?" Yamcha asked innocently, nearly tripping on his own feet as he clapped Vegeta on the back.

"We're not together." They both quickly said loudly in unison, Vegeta peeling Yamcha's fingers from his body and looking in desperate need of personal space.

"Sorry. I was joking." He said, raising his eyebrows in wonderment of what he stumbled into. Bulma gave a sigh of relief for the previous unpleasant discussion tabled for the moment.

Vegeta rose from his seat suddenly, muttering something about getting a beer. He made it all of five steps before turning back.

"Do you want anything?" He directed, rather than offered.

"What?" She inquired, both her and Yamcha staring in confusion.

"I'm going to the bar. Do you want anything?" He asked again, more instantly while shifting in an uncomfortable gait. Bridging a gap, she surmised. How unexpected.

"No, thank you. I think I've had enough."

He grunted as he turned, exiting quickly through the crowd. Yamcha appeared to relax with a slow whistling exhale, taking the empty seat next to her as she lost her dark-haired ex in the throng of bodies.

"You have a weird dynamic." He proclaimed while nursing half a glass of dark beer in one hand and lounging his other on the back of the booth.

"It's not weird."

"Uh-huh. And offering to buy you a drink while simultaneously denying you guys are involved means-" he raised an eyebrow while letting the remainder of the sentence get lost in his glass.

"That he's being friendly." She insisted with a nudge to his shoulder.

"Friendly is one thing. The way you guys look at each other is another."

"You're presuming," Bulma stated casually, picking at her nail cuticles, truly hoping he would just stop interrogating. Worried and intrusive friends don't stop prying, however.

"What I see is you're still in love with him." He cut to the chase, putting the now empty glass as if proving his point that he had gotten to the bottom of this pseudo-investigation into her personal life.

Striking a nerve, her blue gaze focused on her dear, sweet, precariously-close-to-being-throttled Yamcha. "I'm not in love with him."

"Sure. Hey, Bulma? What's the longest river in Africa?"

She narrowed her gaze. "No. No jokes."

"Denial." He smirked roguishly.

"That is so unfunny." She kneaded her fingers into the bridge of her nose while trying to force back the smile cracking through the seriousness, "I am not in denial of anything."

Undeterred, he continued with a scoff, "You can fool yourself, but not me. I've known you for a long time. I'm not gonna deny it didn't hurt a little when you fell for your rebound when we finally broke up."

"I don't love him." She enunciated, "You of all people should know I'm not the same as I was before. I'm not looking to relive an old fling. So drop it."

Still unconvinced, he gave in to her threats. "Okay, you don't. But you are blind to his… whatever he does for you. I'm concerned about how he treats you. Especially during practice. He shouldn't talk to you like that, B."

"It's all show. And strangely motivating. I know when it's real. I'm not intimidated by him."

"Guess he has to be nice to you. Considering." Yamcha tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically. Bulma tried with every muscle fiber to not react to the impending direction the talk was going.

"Mhm." She stared off at nothing. Please, let him be drunk enough to not ask.

"So you never told me. How did he take it?" There it is. Fuck.

It took a full minute with him gradually changing from subtle inquisition to stunned silence for her to respond. "I haven't told him yet."

"Jesus, Bulma! Why?" He exclaimed in a hiss, restraining the current high pitch to his shocked tone.

"It's complicated."

"And you're making it more complicated by hiding. I mean, I'd be pissed but him- he's dynamite with the fuse already lit. The longer you wait-"

"I know, okay." She admitted with her face in her hands. She had already gone over the excruciating details of every possible scenario from him accepting in full without hesitation (unlikely) to him dying of a heart attack the moment the words processed through his skull (hopefully, also unlikely). She really didn't need more guilt on top of losing sleep over something that should have been brought up day 1.

"He should know. It's only gonna get worse-" Worry flitted across his face until he shut his mouth, wide-eyed when the man in question silently made himself known with a distinct throat clearing and a scowl.

"More secrets, Bulma?" He queried, arms crossed and waiting.

She was unaware of how dry her throat had become when she tried to swallow.

"We should talk." She managed, getting up and moved past Yamcha who mouthed 'sorry' sympathetically.

Vegeta unhooked his arms while gesturing to the door. "Lead the way."

Bulma held her head high despite feeling very much like she was leading herself into the lion's den.

The alley at the side of the establishment thankfully was empty. The heavy bar door slammed sending a jolt to her nerves at the sound. His arms returned to their place tight across his chest, a cue he used often to express his irritation despite the casual tone in his voice. "Sounds like you both had an interesting conversation."

Biting her lip, she tried to delay the inevitable. "Look, I didn't want to tell you like this. We shouldn't have been talking about it so openly-"

"Say it."

"It's complicated, I didn't think you-"

"Just say it." He directed, eerily calm.

"You seem to already know." She said in a hush.

She watched him blink once, slowly, as each syllable breathed out between his teeth. "I want… to hear it… from your mouth."

He wanted to know.

Okay.

With a final concentrated breath, she said it.

"I had a kid. A son." She watched as his expression remained unchanged. "He's yours."

There was no way to let him down gently, even if he already knew. The impact of two words caused a physical stun effect, with a mild twitch in his jaw, his arms gradually losing their steeled grip across his chest and the immediate drain of all color from his face.

As he remained momentarily speechless, Bulma recognized the expression all too well. It was the same identical, mirrored look she had when she felt sick the first few weeks, the two pink lines, the sudden reality hitting her without mercy like it was currently for him. She understood that look.

He was absolutely scared shitless.