~~~One Week Later, At Bulma's House~~~
"Old man, I want that machine fixed now! No... not now.. YESTERDAY!"
Bulma walked down the steps of the front porch, where Vegeta, as usual, was making a royal pain in the rear out of himself. His hair was starting to stand back up again, but more than a quarter of it was still falling down into rippling, silky black waves that reached his waist. He was shirtless, sweating, although Bulma was sure it wasnt just the afternoon sun. The minor cuts and bruises he had managed to gather attested to that.
"...I dont have the parts, son. You'll have to wait til the next shipment, there's nothing I can do," Bulma's father was in the middle of saying. But the Saiyjin prince would have none of it.
"Then, old man," his voice had taken on a dangerous quality. She recognized the silky softness that was the calm before Vegeta's storm,"I suggest you GET those parts."
"Vegeta, would you just get off of your high horse? He said we cant get the parts. And we cant!" Bulma thrust her chin out in an unconscious act of stubbornness. Her hands were balled up on her hips, and she was positively emitting attitude.
That caught his attention. With a sinister smile, he turned away from Briefs(who took that moment to run inside to...'answer the phone. (Yeah, thats it.) and advanced on Bulma, like a predator to prey. When he was toe to toe to the woman, he stared malevolently down at her. Bulma had to use all of her will not to flinch away from his sudden proximity, or the heat his body was putting off in the balmy afternoon. She absently noted that a few wisps of hair had fallen over his shoulders, now brushing his crossed arms.
Vegeta smirked. He had been waiting for another confrontation. The woman had been annoying him entirely too much lately, and he had the most perfect barb for getting beneath her skin. He was about to speak, when her shrill, ear-piercing voice piped up,"Well, are you going to say something, or just stand there and try to impress me?"
He rolled his right shoulder lazily, with the grace of a hunting cat. "Whats with the sudden attitude, woman? Is it because you're rutting and you dont have the weak excuse for a boyfriend to whore yourself to? I was wondering when he'd realize that even he could do better than you."
Bulma's mouth dropped open. Her jaws worked, but no sound emerged. Her face began turning a very distinctive shade of angry red, and the prince smirked again. "Thought so." With that, he turned and walked arrogently into the house. She could faintly hear him hollering at her mother to fix his lunch.
She was furious. Why'd she let him get to her? She didnt know. What she needed right now was a long, long walk. Along. Without that prick berating her. Bulma turned and stormed into the house after him. Grabbing her bag and her keys, she stomped outside to her car. No, not a walk. The mall. Yes. The mall. Maybe shopping would take her mind off of her life for a while.
***
Armed with her credit card, Bulma Briefs was not a force to be taken lightly. She had no less than five shopping bags, all from different stores, all packed to bulging with various clothing, junk food, and book material. She was having trouble lugging it all around, much less paying attention to where she was going.
Thats why she bumped into.. him.
"Uhm.. Hi Bulma... its been a while." His smile was shaky.
Bulma, meanwhile, was busy recovering from that moment when her heart tried to punch through her chest. "Its.. only been a week.."
Yamcha bent to help her pick up her things, shouldering the weight himself. When Bulma started to proest, he shrugged it off. "I figure there's something bothering you. This is where you usually end up after.. after you fight with people." He didnt say that 'people' usually meant he, himself.
Bulma sighed. "Its been rough lately."
"Well, can I treat you to a drink? Sounds like you need to talk." Yamcha started leading her to the food courts as she protested.
"Its not that bad... just Vegeta. He's been grinding my nerves a lot lately." They both got their sodas from a vender and sat at a vacant table. "I mean, all he did was.. make a comment to me.. I shouldnt have gotten made, really. It was nothing. Nothing at all. Why are you here anyway?"
Yamcha scratched his head at the fast change of subject, then smiled ruefully. "Gohan's birthday is in two days."
"Oh no... why do I never remember these things? Why me?" Bulma moaned, "I dont know what to get a little boy.."
Yamcha grinned. "Why dont I help you? We'll just take these things to your car, then we'll hit the stores. How's that sound?" He tried to conceal the fact that he desperately wanted to just be with her. He held his breath.
Bulma smiled. "Alright.. That sounds great!" Yamcha sent a small prayer of thanks to whatever benevolent diety that was watching over him.
"Thats awesome! Lets get these to your car.." After they had gone and secured Bulma's purchases in her trunk, they were back at the shops. Yamcha walked at the appropriete distance that a friend should, but he longed to just put his arms around her and hold her close. But at least he was with her. At least there was that much.
He thanked his lucky stars he had that much.
*******************
Flames? Comments? Praises? Is it a lost cause? Should I continue? Any good ideas for the next parts?
Whispers
^Anything is possible when nothing is real^
"Old man, I want that machine fixed now! No... not now.. YESTERDAY!"
Bulma walked down the steps of the front porch, where Vegeta, as usual, was making a royal pain in the rear out of himself. His hair was starting to stand back up again, but more than a quarter of it was still falling down into rippling, silky black waves that reached his waist. He was shirtless, sweating, although Bulma was sure it wasnt just the afternoon sun. The minor cuts and bruises he had managed to gather attested to that.
"...I dont have the parts, son. You'll have to wait til the next shipment, there's nothing I can do," Bulma's father was in the middle of saying. But the Saiyjin prince would have none of it.
"Then, old man," his voice had taken on a dangerous quality. She recognized the silky softness that was the calm before Vegeta's storm,"I suggest you GET those parts."
"Vegeta, would you just get off of your high horse? He said we cant get the parts. And we cant!" Bulma thrust her chin out in an unconscious act of stubbornness. Her hands were balled up on her hips, and she was positively emitting attitude.
That caught his attention. With a sinister smile, he turned away from Briefs(who took that moment to run inside to...'answer the phone. (Yeah, thats it.) and advanced on Bulma, like a predator to prey. When he was toe to toe to the woman, he stared malevolently down at her. Bulma had to use all of her will not to flinch away from his sudden proximity, or the heat his body was putting off in the balmy afternoon. She absently noted that a few wisps of hair had fallen over his shoulders, now brushing his crossed arms.
Vegeta smirked. He had been waiting for another confrontation. The woman had been annoying him entirely too much lately, and he had the most perfect barb for getting beneath her skin. He was about to speak, when her shrill, ear-piercing voice piped up,"Well, are you going to say something, or just stand there and try to impress me?"
He rolled his right shoulder lazily, with the grace of a hunting cat. "Whats with the sudden attitude, woman? Is it because you're rutting and you dont have the weak excuse for a boyfriend to whore yourself to? I was wondering when he'd realize that even he could do better than you."
Bulma's mouth dropped open. Her jaws worked, but no sound emerged. Her face began turning a very distinctive shade of angry red, and the prince smirked again. "Thought so." With that, he turned and walked arrogently into the house. She could faintly hear him hollering at her mother to fix his lunch.
She was furious. Why'd she let him get to her? She didnt know. What she needed right now was a long, long walk. Along. Without that prick berating her. Bulma turned and stormed into the house after him. Grabbing her bag and her keys, she stomped outside to her car. No, not a walk. The mall. Yes. The mall. Maybe shopping would take her mind off of her life for a while.
***
Armed with her credit card, Bulma Briefs was not a force to be taken lightly. She had no less than five shopping bags, all from different stores, all packed to bulging with various clothing, junk food, and book material. She was having trouble lugging it all around, much less paying attention to where she was going.
Thats why she bumped into.. him.
"Uhm.. Hi Bulma... its been a while." His smile was shaky.
Bulma, meanwhile, was busy recovering from that moment when her heart tried to punch through her chest. "Its.. only been a week.."
Yamcha bent to help her pick up her things, shouldering the weight himself. When Bulma started to proest, he shrugged it off. "I figure there's something bothering you. This is where you usually end up after.. after you fight with people." He didnt say that 'people' usually meant he, himself.
Bulma sighed. "Its been rough lately."
"Well, can I treat you to a drink? Sounds like you need to talk." Yamcha started leading her to the food courts as she protested.
"Its not that bad... just Vegeta. He's been grinding my nerves a lot lately." They both got their sodas from a vender and sat at a vacant table. "I mean, all he did was.. make a comment to me.. I shouldnt have gotten made, really. It was nothing. Nothing at all. Why are you here anyway?"
Yamcha scratched his head at the fast change of subject, then smiled ruefully. "Gohan's birthday is in two days."
"Oh no... why do I never remember these things? Why me?" Bulma moaned, "I dont know what to get a little boy.."
Yamcha grinned. "Why dont I help you? We'll just take these things to your car, then we'll hit the stores. How's that sound?" He tried to conceal the fact that he desperately wanted to just be with her. He held his breath.
Bulma smiled. "Alright.. That sounds great!" Yamcha sent a small prayer of thanks to whatever benevolent diety that was watching over him.
"Thats awesome! Lets get these to your car.." After they had gone and secured Bulma's purchases in her trunk, they were back at the shops. Yamcha walked at the appropriete distance that a friend should, but he longed to just put his arms around her and hold her close. But at least he was with her. At least there was that much.
He thanked his lucky stars he had that much.
*******************
Flames? Comments? Praises? Is it a lost cause? Should I continue? Any good ideas for the next parts?
Whispers
^Anything is possible when nothing is real^