Chapter 7 "Return of the Exes"
Three and a half weeks had passed, and the intensity was building. Bulma didn't need her bandages anymore and she'd mostly recovered. Vegeta could only be seen for potty breaks and to eat, always at odd hours when he knew he wouldn't encounter Bulma. He'd taken a pillow from the couch and a towel from the bathroom and camped out in the gravity machine. Several times Bulma had almost knocked on the door to the machine, but turned away, expecting only harsh words and hate. He'd seen her walking away each time. The very thought of her sent power flashing through his veins.
The day before the battle, Bulma had made a decision. She didn't want him dying in that stupid battle hating her. *I have to admit, he is rather cute. EW! Vegeta? Murderer of my boyfriend and insane saiyin prince?? He's not the same as he was... Oh well.* She strode boldly to the door of the machine and, before knocking, listened silently at the door.
"Damn woman! Why does she have to be so... damn.... beautiful!" He mumbled a bit more in Saiyan then ranted a little more. Hearing this made Bulma giggle. It was hard not to hear. She wasn't purposely eavesdropping. She was innocent.
Vegeta was mostly enveloped in his training. Thinking of her sent flashes of power through his blood. He didn't just want power, he deisred the aquamarine eyes to mirror Goku's. He wanted it so badly, ever since his father told him about the legend. It was like a toy that was always sold out.
It was truly unfair to him. Kakarot wasn't the one who worked for it his entire life. His father hadn't destined him, he didn't dream about succeeding it. But his emotions had given him power. What did he have that the Prince didn't? If Bulma gave him power, could she. . . ? He yelled openly, not caring who heard.
A small knocking forced him to cease his babbling. He blushed inside himself, worrying that she'd heard. He opened the door to a red faced Bulma. She had heard. Damn.
"Vegeta, I wanted to say sorry for being so. . ."
"Bitchy?" he chimed in with a smirk.
::Nice move, slick::
Shove it.
"Whatever. I just didn't want you going to battle with me distracting you." she smiled innocently, making Vegeta melt into her eyes. She broke the stare and fished out of her pocket a small capsule with a series of numbers on the side. She popped the top and tossed it behind her where it exploded. The cloud of smoke cleared and revealed a long table overflowing with food. She walked over to it, pushed a button on the table leg, and it returned to capsule size. "It's for when you get hungry." She handed it to him and strut proudly off.
He trained the rest of the day with vigor. If he began to tire, he'd imagine her being hurt, which sent him on a frenzy to destroy. When he felt hungry, he enjoyed the capsule by eating every last scrap of it's contents. Sometime around four o'clock, he saw his jealousy walking up and ringing the doorbell with flowers in hand.
Vegeta crept steathily outside and flew around the building to enter through Bulma's balcony window. He circled around the hallway, stopping at the staircase to the first floor and living room where Yamcha sat.
Three and a half weeks had passed, and the intensity was building. Bulma didn't need her bandages anymore and she'd mostly recovered. Vegeta could only be seen for potty breaks and to eat, always at odd hours when he knew he wouldn't encounter Bulma. He'd taken a pillow from the couch and a towel from the bathroom and camped out in the gravity machine. Several times Bulma had almost knocked on the door to the machine, but turned away, expecting only harsh words and hate. He'd seen her walking away each time. The very thought of her sent power flashing through his veins.
The day before the battle, Bulma had made a decision. She didn't want him dying in that stupid battle hating her. *I have to admit, he is rather cute. EW! Vegeta? Murderer of my boyfriend and insane saiyin prince?? He's not the same as he was... Oh well.* She strode boldly to the door of the machine and, before knocking, listened silently at the door.
"Damn woman! Why does she have to be so... damn.... beautiful!" He mumbled a bit more in Saiyan then ranted a little more. Hearing this made Bulma giggle. It was hard not to hear. She wasn't purposely eavesdropping. She was innocent.
Vegeta was mostly enveloped in his training. Thinking of her sent flashes of power through his blood. He didn't just want power, he deisred the aquamarine eyes to mirror Goku's. He wanted it so badly, ever since his father told him about the legend. It was like a toy that was always sold out.
It was truly unfair to him. Kakarot wasn't the one who worked for it his entire life. His father hadn't destined him, he didn't dream about succeeding it. But his emotions had given him power. What did he have that the Prince didn't? If Bulma gave him power, could she. . . ? He yelled openly, not caring who heard.
A small knocking forced him to cease his babbling. He blushed inside himself, worrying that she'd heard. He opened the door to a red faced Bulma. She had heard. Damn.
"Vegeta, I wanted to say sorry for being so. . ."
"Bitchy?" he chimed in with a smirk.
::Nice move, slick::
Shove it.
"Whatever. I just didn't want you going to battle with me distracting you." she smiled innocently, making Vegeta melt into her eyes. She broke the stare and fished out of her pocket a small capsule with a series of numbers on the side. She popped the top and tossed it behind her where it exploded. The cloud of smoke cleared and revealed a long table overflowing with food. She walked over to it, pushed a button on the table leg, and it returned to capsule size. "It's for when you get hungry." She handed it to him and strut proudly off.
He trained the rest of the day with vigor. If he began to tire, he'd imagine her being hurt, which sent him on a frenzy to destroy. When he felt hungry, he enjoyed the capsule by eating every last scrap of it's contents. Sometime around four o'clock, he saw his jealousy walking up and ringing the doorbell with flowers in hand.
Vegeta crept steathily outside and flew around the building to enter through Bulma's balcony window. He circled around the hallway, stopping at the staircase to the first floor and living room where Yamcha sat.
