Aaand, I'm back! Yes, that's right, Teresa here. I'm having a good day since I just went to a Korn concert on Tuesday, and on Thursday I was inducted into the Honor Society. Sigh. But, enough about me; on to the story. I am letting it slide this one time because I never said anything about how important comments are to me, but from now on, there is a new rule. I will not post the next part of the story until I have at LEAST 5 comments on the most recent part. That's right. And you guys were all doing a good job of commenting on each part, except for part 4. You guys were slacking in the comment department on that one. As I type this, I only have 2 comments. Two. Somehow, I doubt that only two people are reading my work. So now, I am making this rule. Please don't think that I'm mean. If I was really mean, I could have just waited for you guys to meet the comment quota before putting out this part without ever telling you why I was waiting. Okay so, blah blah legal stuff blah blah blah….And back to the story.
A Shelter From My Storm
Part 5
Vegeta walked into the kitchen that evening after he had been training all day. He quickly grabbed his sandwich, a glass of milk, and some cake that Bulma's mother had made. He looked at the table, but observed with disgust that it had not been wiped off since the last meal. Vegeta didn't even consider the possibility of wiping off the table himself, as that was "below him." Instead, he carried his dinner up to his room. This was not highly unusual; he often ate in his own room for any number of reasons. He had just finished eating his meal when there was a knocking at his door. Vegeta started at the noise, a small grunt of confusion escaping his lips. Who would be knocking on his door? What could they want?
"Who is it?" Vegeta snarled.
"Uh, Bulma." Came the frightened reply in a small voice.
"Oh." He was shocked at this turn of events. Usually, if the woman wanted to tell him something, she simply threw his door open and began yelling at him. He shrugged off his growing curiosity. "What do you want?" he demanded.
"I…Nothing." She sighed wistfully from the other side of his door.
"What is it woman?!" Vegeta asked impatiently. "Just tell me now so I don't have to put up with your pitiful moping for weeks."
"I…I just wanted…Can I come in?" Bulma asked. Vegeta let loose an exasperated sigh.
"Very well, but only for a little while." He answered from where he sat on his bed watching television.
"Thanks." She came in and stood beside his bed awkwardly. Bulma stared at Vegeta, who continued watching television, for quite some time.
"Are you planning on standing there all night, or were you going to say something?" Vegeta smirked at her obvious discomfort.
"Vegeta," she sat down on the edge of his bed, her eyes dropping as she seemed to focus intently on picking a few pieces of lint off of his blanket, "I just wanted you to know how much it means to me that you have decided to-"
"I hope you realize that the only reasons I am staying here are the gravity room and the training of my son." Vegeta suddenly snapped, cutting her off. "And those are the ONLY reasons." He glared at her suspiciously. Bulma immediately jumped up from where she sat and looked around self-consciously. Finally, her eyes met Vegeta's, but they weren't gentle, as they had been before; they were dark and hard with anger.
"Fine. Don't say 'you're welcome' or anything! Don't even bother to LOOK at me!" tears of frustrated rage fell down Bulma red cheeks as she stormed out and left the house in a capsule car. Vegeta raised an eyebrow in curiosity when he heard her drive away, but he quickly decided that if she wanted to be difficult, he wasn't going to stop her if she wanted to go somewhere else to bother people.
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Bulma wearily sat down on the barstool. She ordered a beer and was about to drink it as quickly as she could manage when she remembered that she was pregnant now. Sighing heavily, she pushed the glass away and gave the confused bartender an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry, I just realized that I can't drink this. I'm pregnant." She explained sheepishly, "Could I please have a glass of water instead?" the sympathetic man quickly obliged, switching her glass with one filled with water. Bulma looked down at the clear liquid. Just great. Now she wasn't even allowed to get so drunk that she could black out and forget about what a cold, callous, asshole Vegeta was, even now. A tear rolled down Bulma's cheek and she angrily brushed it away. Damn that man. He was most definitely not allowed to make her cry. Suddenly, someone sat down next to her at the bar.
"Bulma?" she stiffened at the familiar sounding voice.
"Yamcha, could you please just leave me alone?" she sighed miserably. She was not in the mood for this.
"Sorry, I just saw you and thought you looked upset." Yamcha apologized, shrugging. "Like maybe you needed to talk to someone." He got up and turned to leave, but she reached out and caught his arm, holding him back. She smiled apologetically at her old boyfriend.
"Yamcha, I didn't' mean to snap at you like that. I'm sorry." She offered. "You're right. I am upset."
"Why? What happened?" Yamcha asked in concern, sitting down in his stool immediately. She giggled lightly at his behavior.
"Sometimes I forget how much nicer you are than Vegeta." She sighed wistfully, leaning against his strong shoulder out of old habit.
"Vegeta's been giving you problems?" Yamcha frowned. "Just ignore him. He's a bad man without a heart. He isn't normal like the rest of us." He patted her shoulder consolingly as she sat back up.
"I know." Bulma began to cry again, "I know." Yamcha was a little bit confused by this behavior, but he continued to comfort Bulma anyway.
"It's okay." He patted her back gently.
"Why did I leave you, Yamcha?" Bulma shook her head and sipped her drink. "My life was normal with you."
"Normal?" he laughed at this comment, "You must have had a pretty tough month to say that!" he cocked an eyebrow at her, suddenly suspicious. "How much have you had to drink anyway, Bulma?" she laughed and had him sip her water.
"Only this one, and last time I checked, this stuff was absolutely ineffective at getting someone drunk." She assured him.
"Just checking." Yamcha replied, "But why did you come to a bar just to drink water?"
"I wanted some beer, but I couldn't." she admitted.
"Forget your I.D.?" Yamcha asked.
"No." Bulma mumbled, drinking water nervously.
"Then why?" Yamcha asked, perplexed, "Some new diet or something?"
"Something like that." She muttered uncomfortably.
"Oh." He nodded acceptance at this reply. "So do you wanna talk about your problems?" she turned to face him and smiled at his open, honest face. Vegeta and Yamcha were like night and day. Maybe that was why she had turned to Vegeta. Bulma gave Yamcha a quick peck on the cheek.
"Thanks a lot Yamcha." She said. "You can be so sweet sometimes. That's one of the things I really like about you. But I don't think you really want to hear what I've been going through."
"Ah, Bulma." Yamcha blushed slightly, "Don't worry about it. It can't be all that bad."
"You think so?" Bulma challenged him.
"Sure. I don't mind you telling me whatever it is that has been bothering you." He gave her an endearing, lopsided grin. "I mean, how bad could it really be?"
"I'm pregnant." Bulma blurted it out, immediately wishing that she had remained silent. Yamcha's jaw dropped in shock.
"But…How…I…We…You…Thought I…Careful…Not…How…Pregnant…" he spluttered incoherently.
"It isn't-" Bulma began before Yamcha shocked her into silence by kissing her right on the mouth.
"This is great!" he said when he quickly released her. "I knew there would be something to bring us back together! And now this! I admit, this was completely unexpected, but I'm happy anyway! We'll be parents, Bulma! I always wanted to be a dad." He sighed happily.
"But it's not-" she tried again, but he cut her off in his excitement.
"I know I've made a lot of mistakes before, but I really am sorry. I won't do it again. I love you, Bulma." He hugged her happily. She winced at his last words and pushed him away.
"I knew I shouldn't have told you. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle it." She shook her head slowly in regret.
"What do you mean?" Yamcha cocked his head at her quizzically.
"I mean that even though I am pregnant, it isn't…it's not yours Yamcha." She finished quickly, "I'm sorry." She added, biting her lip nervously.
"But…but who? When?" he demanded softly as he looked at his feet in dejection.
"I don't want to tell you, but I guess I owe it to you to let you know." Bulma began resignedly. "About one week after we broke up, I…I slept with Vegeta." She informed him. He looked completely crushed.
"Vegeta?" he asked in an injured voice, "How could you? Why would you want to?" Yamcha asked in disgust.
"That's something that even I don't know for sure." Bulma admitted. "I think you're right about him, but sometimes…I don't know." Yamcha nodded slowly, a numb look on his face as he rose to leave.
"I guess I had better leave now Bulma. I have some things I need to think about." He told her in a very calm monotone before he left.
"I know the feeling." She muttered to herself. After finishing her glass of water, Bulma saw as well as felt how late it was and went home to go to bed and get herself some rest.
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The next morning when Bulma went to the kitchen for some breakfast, she saw but pointedly ignored Vegeta. He stood leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed and his face set in an angry scowl as usual. Bulma could feel his eyes following her and she tried her best not to let his scrutiny anger her or cause her to show discomfort. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to her. Slowly, and with supreme patience, something she usually never made use of, Bulma poured her cereal and got a spoon. Almost she considered eating it without any milk so as to avoid Vegeta. After all, Vegeta was obviously after something, she could see that plainly. Probably a fight, and that would just prove fruitless and tiresome like always. But then Bulma's strong defiance kicked in, and without another moment's pause for contemplation, she walked right up to the refrigerator and glared up at Vegeta, arms akimbo, lips pursed angrily. His scowl deepened as she stood before him defiantly.
"What do you want woman?" he asked scornfully.
"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing. What are you doing in here anyway? Don't you have to train or something?" she continued glaring at him, refusing to stand down.
"I was taking a break." He sneered at her slightly.
"Well, can you take it somewhere else? You're in my way." Bulma told him.
"Where were you last night?" Vegeta asked sharply as he stepped deftly to one side.
"What do you care?" she grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator and took it to the counter, all the while concentrating stubbornly on maintaining her poise.
"I don't." Vegeta countered quickly, "I just wondered where you were until 2:30 in the morning." Bulma, realizing that she had a slight advantage, slowly poured her milk and closed the carton delicately as though she hadn't even heard Vegeta or acknowledged his presence at all. This quickly angered the impatient Saiyan and he growled almost inaudibly at her behavior. "Well?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. Bulma decided it might be safer for her if she were to stop antagonizing Vegeta at that moment.
"I was at a bar." She informed him matter-of-factly.
"Are you crazy, woman!?" Vegeta roared, "You can't be drinking in your condition!"
"I didn't drink, I talked with Yamcha!" Bulma countered as she stormed back to the refrigerator, milk carton in hand.
"That weak Earthling! What do you want with him, woman!?" he asked, absolutely outraged. She snapped her head up, letting her defiant gaze meet his enraged eyes as she put the milk away and stepped up to him.
"No more than you claim to want with me." She told Vegeta, her voice icy and quiet. "Nothing." She shot him a look that sent chills up the Prince's spine before turning to leave the room. As he listened speechlessly, he heard Bulma running up the stairs sobbing, then going to her room and slamming the door shut behind her.
"Damn woman." Vegeta hands dropped to his sides. "What is it that she wants from me?"
"Oh Vegeta, come on. I thought you were smarter than that." Vegeta whirled at the voice and saw Mrs. Briefs entering the kitchen. "But I guess this isn't exactly your strong suit, now is it?" she giggled lightly. "You see, this is the part where you go apologize and ask for her forgiveness."
"Apologize?" Vegeta scoffed indignantly, "The Prince of Saiyans does not do such things. It is below me. Besides that, I did nothing wrong! She was the one running about with that weakling!"
"If that's the way you feel, I don't know if I can help you." Mrs. Briefs shrugged, sighing breezily. "You need to think. There must be some reason she's mad. What's the last thing she said before she left the room?"
"That I wanted nothing with her." Vegeta replied, scowling. Bulma's mother nodded slowly.
"Yes, Vegeta. If she thinks that you hater her when she so obviously cares for you, that would probably upset her. You'll have to do something to show that you care." She advised sagely.
"But…Who said I care for that silly woman!" Vegeta protested.
"Please Vegeta, it is painfully obvious." Mrs. Briefs giggled at his reaction. "Well, good luck. I really must get going." And with that, Mrs. Briefs left the room.
"Damn Earth woman." Vegeta mumbled. His sharp ears could still hear the sounds of Bulma sobbing, "All she does is make life more difficult." He grumbled under his breath. "I wanted to take a nap, but that won't happen in this noise. I suppose I will have to shut her up somehow." Vegeta mumbled to himself grudgingly. He took a deep breath and walked upstairs to her room, which was right across from his. The door was closed, but the woman's loud sobs were still plainly audible. He gritted his teeth and opened the door, quietly sliding into her room. Vegeta stood for a few moments in front of the door, hesitating. Finally he stepped up to her bed, where she lay crying piteously, her back toward him. "Woman!" he shouted to be heard above her wailing.
"Huh?" Bulma's crying suddenly reduced in volume to shuddering gasps and whimpers as she turned her head to face his cold features.
"Why must you make this racket!" he scowled, arms crossed. "What advantages can this incessant noise possibly grant you? All it does is cause annoyance!" he scolded her.
"It is called 'crying' Vegeta! I'm sure you aren't familiar with it, seeing as you're completely HEARTLESS!!" she stopped her whimpers to yell at him. "It happens when someone is very badly hurt." She explained softly.
"What do you mean? Are you injured?" Vegeta scanned her body quickly. There was the faintest hint of concern in his contemptuous voice.
"Yes, but not the way you think." Bulma sighed sadly.
"What are you talking about woman?" Vegeta gave her a puzzled look. "Where have you been harmed?"
"Never mind Vegeta." Bulma told him, waving a hand in dismissal.
"Tell me who attacked you, I will destroy them!" he proclaimed, holding a fist up threateningly.
"Don't worry about it." Bulma stood up and gently pushed him back, her hands on his chest. She paused, cocking her head to the side as a faint grin grace her red, tear streaked face. "You know Vegeta, sometimes I forget about you; how you're a Saiyan warrior, not used to the common things that we humans have grown up with. I guess I should have realized that before getting myself into this position. I'm sorry for assuming that you would understand." She reached up and softly ran her hand down his face, a gentle look of endearment in he eyes. Vegeta just stood there, too confused by these sudden mood shifts to resist the sudden contact.
"Bulma?" his brow furrowed in confusion. She shook her head before lightly pushing him out of her room. She was about to turn away, but on a whim, she stopped herself, leaning upward to kiss Vegeta lightly on the lips.
"I'll talk to you about this some day, but not right now. I need a nap." She went back into her room, leaving a thoroughly disconcerted Vegeta standing in the hall, staring at her door, the taste of Bulma's lips still on his. Slowly, his fingers came up to touch his lips lightly as if to make sure they were really his. After a long moment of wondering whether or not Bulma might come out of her room and give him more than that infuriatingly soft kiss, he turned and went to take a cold shower, grumbling irritably about odd methods of torture and evil human women.
***The End (of Part 5, that is)***