Second Best
By Robin Wright
Author's Note: I don't own Dragonball Z or its characters in any way, shape, or form. They are all property of FUNimation. I do not write to make money, I write for a hobby. This is my first Dragonball fic and I'm not totally familiar with the series yet. So please, don't be too brutal! Gimme time and it will get better! That being said...
This is from Vegeta's POV, since he is my favourite. Thanks to my fiancé for the inspiration on this, since he reminds me so much of our favourite Saiyajin prince. :0)
I lie there in the morning, staring at the ceiling. The earth woman snores quietly next to me in bed. I can feel the redness in my eyes. Damned woman couldn't stay still. Hogging the covers, kicking me, snoring loud enough to wake the dead all night long. Why must I share a bed with her? I turn over on my side and look at her, still snoring. She faces me, her mouth hanging half open, a small puddle of drool forming on her pillow. I raise an eyebrow in partial disgust. Sometimes, she's extremely hot. Right now is not one of those times. I stare at her, snoring and drooling as she is, and I'm attempting to not get angry. Lack of sleep has made me... disagreeable.
Not to say that I'm not in a bad mood most of the time. Hn, and Goku wonders why I'm always mad. "Vegeta the jerk." That's me. Perpetually pissed, forever angry at the world. Eternally enraged at all existence. And why shouldn't I be? My entire planet was destroyed and I was cheated out of that which was rightfully mine. Now I'm on this awful planet with all of these weaklings humans who collectively possess about as much ki as space trash. And Goku is their hero.
He destroyed Freeza. He saved the planet. I couldn't even protect the earth woman who I now share a bed with. Second best. I hate second. Second place is first place loser. I hate this place.
The woman stirs, her eyes opening slowly. She wipes the drool off of her cheek, frowning and yawns. Ugh, her breath is terrible. "You smell foul, woman," I snort. She answers by punching me in the arm and flopping over on her other side. In no way did her feeble attempt at harming me hurt, but I can't let her get away with that. She's wearing that ratty old t-shirt of hers. That one that she's so attached to. For the love of... really! A ratty t-shirt! I can only imagine how clingy she would be if she had some real clothes; proper Saiyajin armour. But she's a woman - an earth woman at that. She could never understand about the importance of wearing armour at all times. (Damn, I hate those pink polo shirts she forces me to wear.) She shifts a bit, trying to go back to sleep, but she's gotten me irritated now. I'm tired and I'm going to have my way. Swiftly, I reach over and grab her butt with both of my hands. She lets out a half-shriek, half grunt and reels around to slap me. She's not fast enough and I cover her mouth with mine before she has a chance to start yelling with that piercing voice of hers. The woman fights and punches my chest, and I can sense what ki she has rising in anger. I feel her sleepy rage coursing in her blood. Oh Kami, I smell her anger. All I can think of now is how bad I want her. She gives in after a moment and kisses me back, deciding that she wants it, too. Her hands run over my chest, traveling to my backside as she yanks my shorts down. I'm so hard from fatigue and the smell of her primal emotions that I can hardly take it. In desperation (and I hardly ever feel desperate) I pull rough on her panties, the seams ripping, the cloth leaving red marks on her thighs as they stubbornly give way. I rip the ratty t-shirt off next, since I hate that thing, anyway. I slide my hands down her front, her breasts fitting perfectly into my hands, and I squeeze them. She bites my bottom lip and cusses, dirty talking in the morning. I push her knees apart, then enter fast and we have sex for about a half an hour, swearing, yelling, the frame of our bed banging hard against the wall. Finally, she is satisfied and we stop, my ki feeling a little low, for once. She rolls over and lies there for a bit, waiting for her energy to get back to normal before she goes to eat. I don't know how they do it, earth women. They act so worn out, then five seconds later, all they can think of is what to eat. Even I don't have that ability.
But, then again, I'm only second best.
Goku, that stupid bastard. I bet he can go for hours and then fly from here to Namek without even blinking. I don't want to think about that, though. It only serves to piss me off further. And why should I be pissed now? I just had great sex. Maybe, for once, I'll sit here and bask in contentedness for a while. Yeah, I am content sometimes. No, it's not so often, but it does happen. After a moment, the woman gets up out of bed. "Oh damn," she mutters, and runs off to the bathroom. I smirk. Happens every time.
I lie in the bed, partially dozing, when the door to the bathroom creaks open. I crack an eyelid to watch her, walking naked to our dresser. I'm wanting her again, but she has a look on her face. I'm not usually one to care about human emotions or problems, but this woman (puny and shrill as she is) happens to be important to me. In fact, I've never seen that look before. I actually use her name. "Bulma, what's bothering you?" She turns and scowls at me.
"Nothing."
"Don't toy with me, woman. Something's bothering you. Spit it out."
"Since when do you care about emotions?" I wonder if she's having "female troubles" again. I really hate it when that comes around. No emotional gratification, no sex, nothing but bitching. Damned earth women.
"I didn't say that I care. You know I don't like being uninformed. Now tell me, wench, what's wrong?" She looks at me for a second, studying the expression in my eyes.
"Vegeta, I think I'm pregnant." What is there to say? I knew this would happen, sooner or later. Just not this soon.
"What?! Just now?" I know my face is going white. Bulma sighs, exasperated, and shakes her head.
"No, you idiot. Weeks ago. You can't tell until it's been a few weeks."
Yeah, I've got nothing. I've got nothing to say at all.
"Vegeta, please, say something. You look angry." She looks away from me, pulling on her socks, sniffling. Shit, now she's crying. I hate tears, especially from her. They make me want to... ugh, comfort her. What a weakling these humans are making me into.
"We could have avoided this," is all I can say. Bulma shakes her head. "Yeah, I figured you would say something like that," she answers, and storms out of the room half-dressed, shirt in hand.
And all I can think is shit, shit, shit. Damn, I never say the right thing. Hell, I was brought up to be a warrior! Warriors don't show emotion. Nothing but rage. We don't break, not for anything, not for anyone; especially women. No feelings, it's not the Sayajin way. We don't have "soft" emotions. That's what I've been told my whole life. Sayajin's don't feel regret, unless losing in battle, and we don't feel anything so wasteful and fickle as love. It's trite, to feel such things.
But, shit, I can't help but feel bad now.
I get out of bed and pull on my shorts. No point in donning my Sayajin armour. I only have to go as far as the kitchen, I know. I can't believe I'm doing this. Damnit, all this for an earth woman. What a sad specimen I've become. The steps creak under my feet as I head downstairs. Sure enough, there's the wench, digging in the fridge, grumbling about the milk smelling sour. I get to the last step, the loudest one, and she hears me. Her eyes meet mine for a second, then she looks away, digging harder in the refrigerator for milk. I sigh, not wanting to do this, screaming at myself in my head to turn around. Oh, what a weakling I am now. I wonder how often Kakarrot bends to his wife's will. At least he's not better than me in that respect, judging by how Chi Chi's got him cowed. Calmly as I can, I come up behind Bulma and lie my hand on her arm. She tenses up right away but I don't move. "Bulma, turn around."
Of course, she doesn't, so I tug on her arm, moving her so that she faces me. I grit my teeth. Weak! Weak! Weak! I holler to myself. Never being one for words, I do the next best thing to talking, and kiss her. Then, clearing my throat, "I'm sorry... dear. I should be more... (no! no!) more sensitive." There goes all Saiyajin pride I have left, right down the drain like the green dye she uses on her hair. The wench is quiet and I wait for her to smack me one. However, she doesn't, and kisses me on the cheek. Somehow, it makes me feel good. She smiles. "You want an omelet, Vegeta?" All I can do is nod and go to the table. There is a paper there, and I read it with little interest. There is the sound of Bulma frying eggs in a pan, and I look over the top of my paper while her back is turned, watching her. She really is hot. I smell the eggs cooking, hunger growling in my stomach. Bulma turns abruptly and her eyes meet mine for a second, a smile flickering across her lips. I grunt and go back to my paper. She doesn't see the smile on my face, but she knows. I'm going to be a father, and all I can think is, Maybe second best isn't so bad after all.