Hello, it's me J
After this, one more, and it's done. Sorry. I never meant to,…let this drag as long as it did in the first place! Hey, I get the feeling no one can review. Am I right? (cause I can't, and I tried!!)
Oh, drop me an email instead, ok? agnesswart@hotmail.com
Vegeta turned his hand at the beep, disintegrating the annoying alarm clock within a blink of the eye.
This is ridiculous.
He had already turned back to his training when he sighed wearily, remembering his earlier resolve. Damn him! He would at least try this. Yes; the Saiyi-jin prince was trying to overcome one of his greatest problems since he had come to this lush-green planet; one of the greatest enigma's that had come to his attention now that his space-faring days were gone.
Sleep.
Vegeta had slept all day, across that kitchen-table; Mrs. Briefs had finally felt the need to wake him around dinner time, asking in that irritatingly cheery voice if he would like anything to eat. Vegeta had reluctantly assented and eaten, before locking himself in his gravity room once again. But this time with a plan. And the alarm clock had been the centre of this plan. ( Vegeta grudgingly realised that meant he would have to get a new one now. )
He would plan this, set aside time for it. Find out how it worked. Now that it was evening once again, he would do this properly.
Sleep.
At the time that he'd been on Freeza's purging army, such basic problems were never his concern; Freeza's soldiers simply did not sleep. Rather, they travelled space in a gas-induced comatose. It must have somehow provided the same function, for Vegeta had always felt refreshed after a good long trip –though, in all honesty, he'd never much enjoyed that cramped way of space-travel.
Missions didn't usually take much more then a week, nor did the Saiyi-jin prince ever spent more then a few days waiting for his next mission. It was only now that Vegeta had begun to recognise that odd feeling of rest when he'd departed for another purging, or was about to return from one.
Sleep.
As such, the first time he'd come across the 'sleep-problem' was on Nameck. He had cursed himself a million times for forgetting about one of his most basic needs, simply because he had not had to provide for it since early childhood. And even then he had greatly underestimated the problem.
An hour, he'd given himself. How gullible! By now, the Saiyi-jin was beginning to see the extent of the problem; Humans slept for many long hours, every night.
And him? Well, let's just say it was quite possible this sleeping-thing was going to take even more of his-training time then stopping to eat already did.
Still, he had little choice.
Sleep.
Sullenly, Vegeta stomped up the stairs, looking up the endless hallway as he tried to remember which room had been allocated to him. Months ago. Now was actually the first time he was going to use it.
Use it to sleep.
The idea was appalling, the prince considered as he opened the door of what he assumed was his room; sleeping this natural, slow way had all sort of odd side effects. One of the worst, however, were the odd memories and made-up stories that came floating into his mind.
Ideas both useless and ridiculous, usually twisting everything that had happened to him that day into odd tales that had no bearing to the truth whatsoever. These were nuisances, but the old memories bothered him even worse. Memories of a childhood he had all but forgotten, occurrences he did not even remember until these dreams brought them back to him.
Dream.
Vegeta did not need any of them; they were a constant distraction. The prince had half a mind to ask the woman to manufacture him some of the sleeping gas; it would surely take care of his problems. But somehow, he was growing very uncomfortable with the idea he could not live without such technology; Freeza's technology.
So, this Saiyi-jin was just going to have to learn. The hard way.
Vegeta dropped to the bed, fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Sleep.
Bulma lay in her bad, staring at the ceiling silently. Clean sheets, clean blankets, clean pillows. But still, his scent was all over the place. And the memories! God, they were all coming back now. She didn't want to know! The two of them, intertwined. His voice in her ear as he kept insulting her: her looks, her brains and her sanity. Her amused drunken laughter at all of this, as she could not believe his words. Would not believe. Her head reeling as she sat atop of him, straddling his waist with an evil smirk on her face. His eyes, dark and aroused but somehow a little sad as he told her again what she already knew.
"You're drunk."
Their bodies sliding across each other, slick with sweat and love and... Oh!
Kami! What was she going to do?
What was she going to tell Yaumcha?
Bulma whimpered once, but then gasped. What about protection? Had she even bothered? She couldn't remember; and with all the other memories returning, that was a bad sign. And that errant Saiyi-jin prince of hers? She doubted he even knew the meaning of the word!
The blue-haired scientist opened her mouth wide this time, face contracted in a painful sneer. Surely, the gods wouldn't be that cruel. Things were bad enough as they were! Kami, what had she ever done to deserve this?
Bulma wailed the night away.
Vegata sat on his place at the kitchen table with a satisfied smirk on his face. All unwanted dreams aside, it had been a refreshing night, and he was pretty confident he would get the hang of this sleep thing in to time flat; sure, he had spent an abhorrent amount of time sleeping this night, but surely he could screw the quota down soon.
Another pleasant circumstance was that now, today, he had awoken around the same time as Mrs and Mr Briefs. The blond airhead had, much to her husband's chagrin invited Vegeta to have breakfast with them. Vegeta had 'gracefully' complied; unlike her daughter, Mrs Briefs could actually cook!
Yes, Vegeta reflected as he smirked at the plate of stacked omelettes that was placed in front of him, life isn't too bad.
Not too bad at all.
It was in this uncharacteristically happy mood that Bulma found him when she made her way down the stairs. She slumped down in the seat opposite to him, a look of utter defeat on her face.
Now, it wasn't in Vegeta's nature to be overly sensitive about these things, but even he could not miss her puffed up, red eyes; her sad frown, and her messy hair, not to mention the fact that she was still wearing her robe and nighty. Usually, she was already all dressed up when she came down for dinner.
No; something was obviously wrong.
Vegeta looked right to left, but the woman's father had his nose firmly planted within a newspaper, and the blonde was still cooking away merrily.
Determined to show he wasn't still mad at her for the other night –for let's be fair, it had all been her fault - he decided to let her know he cared.
"Woman." He told her in his nicest voice. "You look absolutely hideous."
The woman did not take this the right way.