Last time:
His lips curled into a devilish grin.
"I'm Vegeta."
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A small halogen lamp shined a circle of light in the otherwise dark room, casting ugly shadows on the floor and walls. But he wasn't paying any attention to such things. The object before him had all his attention; he was in a complete trance. Ever since he'd brought that book home from the antique shop, happening to open it for a glance, he'd been immersed, ignoring all phone calls and knocks at the door; his mother.
"Vegeta," came her voice again through the wood. "There's a girl on the phone for you. Says it's important."
He didn't respond. Kami, if only he'd known before what a great writer Anzai Anzai was! And the illustrations in the margins! He wasn't what you'd call an art fan, but he knew what he liked, and this he loved.
"Vegeta, come on. You've been avoiding the phone for the past two days. Your agent keeps calling, and so do your friends. Just talk to this girl at least."
"Who is it?" he asked dryly, barely able to keep his eyes off the page.
"Says her name is Maris."
He arched an eyebrow, then climbed off his bed and answered the door.
"What're you reading?" his mother inquired when she noticed the heavy, old book.
"Nothing you know about," he remarked, shutting the door. "Yeah?"
"Hey Veg-a-licious," came Maris' voice through the phone. "Got a minute?"
"No."
"A second?"
"No."
"Come on."
"How did you get my number?"
"17."
"Asshole."
"What?"
"Nothing. What do you want?"
"A favor."
"No."
"Just hear me out." Silence. "Ok, Krillin asked me the other day to help him throw a surprise party for Chi-Chi, and of course Bulma is helping too, but what I need from you is silence. I think Goku would tell her, and 17 is a big mouth, and 18, well—"
"You hate her?"
"I do not," she insisted, maybe a little too forcefully. "Anyway, I could really use your help with everything, mainly getting 17, 18, and Goku there without them knowing there's a party, you know?"
"Yes."
"So you'll help me?"
"No."
"Come o—"
"Damn fool," he muttered as he set the phone on his nightstand, then resumed reading.
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"So he won't come out of his room? Not even for Jun?" Goku asked around a mouthful of gummi bears.
"No one. He's been locked up there for three days. I really think something serious is wrong."
"Oh come on 18," he sighed. "He's fine. You know him, when he gets busy with his music he doesn't stop for anyone. I don't think its anything to worry about, but we can stop by there later if you like."
"Yeah, that'd be good," she said, her voice drifting. Even when he did get fully immersed in his music he still had time for her phone calls. What on earth could have all his attention?
"18?"
"Hmm?"
"You dropped your sandwich." He pointed to it on the floor, giving a small, sad smile. "He's fine. I promise. But come on, you need to help me with this. I'm such a moron about my taxes."
"You should just hire someone to do them for you." She bent over and retrieved her lost meal, tossing it on her plate and pushing it aside. "You have the money."
"Yeah, I know. But I trust you more. Besides, it's a breeze for you."
"Why do you have to do them now, again?"
"Every half year," he yawned, bored out of his mind by all the paper work. "I used to have it that way when I had summer jobs, and I just always liked it better."
"You're weird."
"Thanks," he laughed. "But seriously. Help me!"
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Vegeta stared, completely dumbfounded, at the sight before him. Goku lay sprawled out on his bedroom floor, on top of his door, having successfully broken down, and 18 stood in the hall, her entire manner telling him a lot more was on her mind besides a broken door.
"You people," he finally said, setting his book on the bed. "When someone tells you to go away listen. Kami. Now I have to get another door. Thanks."
"Shut up, Vegeta," 18 hissed, the venom in her voice unquestionable. She stepped into the room, over Goku's body, and right up to Vegeta. Goku groaned on the floor and rolled over. "Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? Not taking my calls, huh? What the hell have you been doing in here?"
He didn't flinch.
"Well?"
"Reading," he said, motioning to the book on the bed. "I got into it. Kami…"
"Reading?"
He nodded.
"Fuck you." She turned on her heels, grabbing Goku up off the floor as she went. "You're an asshole, you know that? I'm worried sick about you for days and you can't even give me a straight answer as to what you were doing! Uh! That is so…so…so like you! No wonder you can't get a girlfriend. You drive all women away. I bet you couldn't get one girl to date you for more than a month. Hell! I bet you can't get to the second date!…Call me when you grow up."
Again Vegeta was left dumbfounded, staring this time at an empty doorway, 18's words still ringing in his ears.
"I accept your challenge," he said into the air, then hopped back on his bed to finish reading. Thirty more pages to go and he was done.
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"That sounds like a date to me," Bulma said, just a hint of contempt in her voice.
"It's not, trust me," came the voice at the other end of the line.
"And how isn't it?"
"We're going shopping for party crap. I don't take dates to the store. It's not a date."
"I don't know. Why are you doing this again? It doesn't make sense, you barely know Chi-Chi, you barely know any of us."
"I have my reasons," he insisted. "Are you coming or not?"
Silence.
"Well?"
"Y-Yeah…" she managed to squeeze out. "When are you coming to get me?"
"I'm in your driveway," came his sly reply.
"And what if I said no?" She crept towards the window and pulled back the curtain, nearly startled when she saw his car exactly where he said it was, him sitting on the hood, phone to his ear, and looking directly at her.
"I knew you wouldn't."
"How?"
"I just did. Now hurry up, I don't have all day."
"You're an ass, Vegeta," she sighed.
"So I've been told."
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"Hold still!" Bulma snapped, smacking Vegeta on the head. "I can't reach if you keep wobbling like that!"
"Well if you didn't weigh a ton, I'd be able to hold you up," he groaned, trying in dismay to keep her up on his shoulders.
"Got it!" she cheered, and nearly went tumbling to the ground. Vegeta caught her at the last second, his arms tightly around her waist, their faces inches apart. "Thanks," she murmured, tossing the extra large package of bulk peanut butter cups into the cart. "I don't get why they put something so big and heavy so high up."
"Yeah," he said smoothly, brushing his hand along her stomach as he turned to grab the cart and resume shopping. "I still think getting those are a bad idea." They turned the corner, nearly running into an angry older woman with an armful of rice cakes.
"Why? It'll keep Krillin quiet for most of the night," she laughed. "I figure we should get everyone their favorite food and that way no one can complain. Easy."
"I thought one of the points of this get-together was so our 'groups' could get to know each other. 18 won't talk to anyone while she's stuffing her face with those things."
"She likes 'em too, eh?" She gave him a sly smile, then dumped six boxes of gummi bears and gummi worms into the cart. "For Goku."
"How do you know he likes those?"
"Every time I turned around he had a bag full of them. I have eyes you know."
"Woman..."
"Bulma."
It was another hour before Bulma and Vegeta finally emerged from the grocery store, pushing a cartload of junk food and over-done cardboard party favors. Ten minutes into the drive back, Bulma realized they weren't headed for her house.
"Where are we going, Vegeta?" This was nowhere near her neighborhood. They were almost on the other side of the city.
"My house," came his words, as crisp and confident as though they were rehearsed. Bulma guessed that they were. "Why? Can't handle being with a rock star for too long?"
"No," she retorted, turning to look back out the window. "I can't stand being with a jackass for too long."
"Ooow. Good one. You're not afraid to say what's on your mind, are you?" She gave him a questioning glance. "I take that as a yes. I figured as much in the first five minutes of meeting you. Why do you think I didn't protest to the date?"
"Stop it."
"What?"
"Trying to win me over, or whatever you're doing. It's not going to work. I'm not going to be another one of your whores." She crossed her arms uncomfortably and tried not to look over at him. "Take me home, please."
"Kami," he sighed, turning on his right blinker and coming to a stop at a red light. "You think you're so tough, don't you?"
"Don't you?"
"Yes, I like to think I'm stronger than the average person. But you, you really believe it, that you're better than everyone and you can just say whatever the hell you want and no one will think twice because you're Princess of Capsule Corp."
"That is NOT who I am at all, Vegeta!" she hissed, forgetting her previous request to go home. "Besides, who are you to talk? You walk around sporting this suave Kami's-gift-to-women attitude when really you're just a lost little boy who's too scared to admit that he's been heartbroken ever since his dad died. You're so concerned about not wanting others to think you care that you forget to have real feelings and remember that other people do too. Do you even think before you jump into bed with at least half the women you doop? I bet if you gave at least one of them a second glance you may see something you didn't the first time, you know, like her face."
"'You're so cold'," he sighed, shaking his head. "'You speak so powerfully your mind and yet you have no voice for the woman that you truly are inside. Your soul screams to be released into the world, but ah, with you as the prison guard, she has no chance and must remain locked away in that cold cell of a heart.'"
Bulma blinked hard, then stared at Vegeta as though he'd just shot someone in front of her.
"Holy Kami," she gasped under her breath. "Anzai. The Silent Paradise of Belinda's Heart."
"The one and only," he sighed, almost tiredly. "Just started to read him. Good writer, that guy."
"Excuse me, but I don't see YOU reading someone like Anzai Anzai. He's too…too…"
"Archaic?…Symbolic?…Revolutionary?"
"Too good for you," she finally managed, curling her nose. She wasn't about to let his little show of knowledge appear to have the effect it actually did. "Take me home."
"I don't think you'll want to go home."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Well, at first I thought it was because I'm so unbelievably sexy that you can't bear to be without me, but then I realized I wasn't vain and self-involved, and, of course, you picked up on the little Anzai thing, so I have something to show you."
"I'm not interested."
"I think you might be."
"Try me."
"You first," he challenged, leaning close to her. Bulma nearly leaned in too, but at the last second jumped back and looked around almost frantically. "We stopped."
"Awhile ago," he laughed. "Come on. I swear that if you're not satisfied then I'll never bother you again."
"Why are you bothering me in the first place?"
He reached over and gently pushed some hair away from Bulma's face, lightly touching her cheek in the process and sending cold chills up her spine.
"Is it so hard to believe that I can actually want to just spend time with a girl? That my main goal at the end of the day isn't to bang whoever is within a five mile radius?"
She stared into his eyes for a long moment, as if memorizing the flecks of color and the way the minimal sunlight seemed to dance and make his eyes wholly more spectacular than they already were.
"Sometimes," she finally said. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, silently telling him that she would accompany him inside. He followed suit. "But you can't blame me after all I've read about you and what your friends told me. You're quite the man whore."
"Guilty as charged. But why do I have to be only that?" he all but demanded. "The damn tabloids are so hell-bent about on getting a good scandal that they forget they're writing about an actual person. It's bullshit what they say. Assholes…"
"But isn't that true about the girls you sleep with? Don't you treat them as, excuse my language, just a good lay?"
"Not always. Depends on how they feed my intellectual palate, though most are starved themselves."
Bulma let out a small laugh and grabbed Vegeta's wrist.
"Come on, I can't wait to meet your mother."
"Oh kuso…"
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"18 here," 18 said as she picked up her cell phone. "Say something before I hang up."
"Hello, you don't know me," came a male voice, "but I'm friends with Bulma Briefs." He paused.
"Keep going. You're doing good so far."
"I need your help, to make her happy, that is. I have this…plan, and I think, well, I know it'll work if I could only get some information from you."
"Ah, so that's what you want, info? Well, umm, whoever the hell you are, I can't help you there. I don't know a thing about the girl. I like her, don't get me wrong, but I don't know her all that well yet."
"My name's Yamcha."
Silence.
"I take it she's told you about me."
"You've been mentioned," she squeezed out, swallowing hard. "But what kind of information can I give you? And what's all this about?"
"Well—"
"Wait, hold that thought. I don't even know you, kid. Look, I'll tell you what. I've seen a picture of you. Meet me at the café in Townsend, I'll come over to you, and we'll go from there, ok?"
"Wow, I thought I'd need a lot more convincing than that. You don't even know me."
"I know, but I know Bulma, sort of. Well, I know her enough to know that right now she's not happy. She needs something, and since you know her well, I think you could have a pretty good idea as to what can help her. I'm not one for charity work, but I genuinely like this chick. She's cool. I want to get to know her better, blah, blah, you know?"
"Tomorrow at seven?"
"It's a date stranger boy."
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---Chapter 11! There you go, enjoy :) Hope everyone liked it. I've made a little more progress, but, as you know (I think), I'm one to take my stories slowly. I don't like to rush into things. I think it's more realistic that way. But enough of what I think, what do you think?
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)
Next time: What the hell could Yamcha want with 18? And what's this? Vegeta and Bulma getting along? There is a god! :P
Note: Don't mind the Vegeta mushy-ness. It'll all be explained in due time, unless you've figured it out, that is :P
His lips curled into a devilish grin.
"I'm Vegeta."
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
A small halogen lamp shined a circle of light in the otherwise dark room, casting ugly shadows on the floor and walls. But he wasn't paying any attention to such things. The object before him had all his attention; he was in a complete trance. Ever since he'd brought that book home from the antique shop, happening to open it for a glance, he'd been immersed, ignoring all phone calls and knocks at the door; his mother.
"Vegeta," came her voice again through the wood. "There's a girl on the phone for you. Says it's important."
He didn't respond. Kami, if only he'd known before what a great writer Anzai Anzai was! And the illustrations in the margins! He wasn't what you'd call an art fan, but he knew what he liked, and this he loved.
"Vegeta, come on. You've been avoiding the phone for the past two days. Your agent keeps calling, and so do your friends. Just talk to this girl at least."
"Who is it?" he asked dryly, barely able to keep his eyes off the page.
"Says her name is Maris."
He arched an eyebrow, then climbed off his bed and answered the door.
"What're you reading?" his mother inquired when she noticed the heavy, old book.
"Nothing you know about," he remarked, shutting the door. "Yeah?"
"Hey Veg-a-licious," came Maris' voice through the phone. "Got a minute?"
"No."
"A second?"
"No."
"Come on."
"How did you get my number?"
"17."
"Asshole."
"What?"
"Nothing. What do you want?"
"A favor."
"No."
"Just hear me out." Silence. "Ok, Krillin asked me the other day to help him throw a surprise party for Chi-Chi, and of course Bulma is helping too, but what I need from you is silence. I think Goku would tell her, and 17 is a big mouth, and 18, well—"
"You hate her?"
"I do not," she insisted, maybe a little too forcefully. "Anyway, I could really use your help with everything, mainly getting 17, 18, and Goku there without them knowing there's a party, you know?"
"Yes."
"So you'll help me?"
"No."
"Come o—"
"Damn fool," he muttered as he set the phone on his nightstand, then resumed reading.
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"So he won't come out of his room? Not even for Jun?" Goku asked around a mouthful of gummi bears.
"No one. He's been locked up there for three days. I really think something serious is wrong."
"Oh come on 18," he sighed. "He's fine. You know him, when he gets busy with his music he doesn't stop for anyone. I don't think its anything to worry about, but we can stop by there later if you like."
"Yeah, that'd be good," she said, her voice drifting. Even when he did get fully immersed in his music he still had time for her phone calls. What on earth could have all his attention?
"18?"
"Hmm?"
"You dropped your sandwich." He pointed to it on the floor, giving a small, sad smile. "He's fine. I promise. But come on, you need to help me with this. I'm such a moron about my taxes."
"You should just hire someone to do them for you." She bent over and retrieved her lost meal, tossing it on her plate and pushing it aside. "You have the money."
"Yeah, I know. But I trust you more. Besides, it's a breeze for you."
"Why do you have to do them now, again?"
"Every half year," he yawned, bored out of his mind by all the paper work. "I used to have it that way when I had summer jobs, and I just always liked it better."
"You're weird."
"Thanks," he laughed. "But seriously. Help me!"
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Vegeta stared, completely dumbfounded, at the sight before him. Goku lay sprawled out on his bedroom floor, on top of his door, having successfully broken down, and 18 stood in the hall, her entire manner telling him a lot more was on her mind besides a broken door.
"You people," he finally said, setting his book on the bed. "When someone tells you to go away listen. Kami. Now I have to get another door. Thanks."
"Shut up, Vegeta," 18 hissed, the venom in her voice unquestionable. She stepped into the room, over Goku's body, and right up to Vegeta. Goku groaned on the floor and rolled over. "Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? Not taking my calls, huh? What the hell have you been doing in here?"
He didn't flinch.
"Well?"
"Reading," he said, motioning to the book on the bed. "I got into it. Kami…"
"Reading?"
He nodded.
"Fuck you." She turned on her heels, grabbing Goku up off the floor as she went. "You're an asshole, you know that? I'm worried sick about you for days and you can't even give me a straight answer as to what you were doing! Uh! That is so…so…so like you! No wonder you can't get a girlfriend. You drive all women away. I bet you couldn't get one girl to date you for more than a month. Hell! I bet you can't get to the second date!…Call me when you grow up."
Again Vegeta was left dumbfounded, staring this time at an empty doorway, 18's words still ringing in his ears.
"I accept your challenge," he said into the air, then hopped back on his bed to finish reading. Thirty more pages to go and he was done.
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"That sounds like a date to me," Bulma said, just a hint of contempt in her voice.
"It's not, trust me," came the voice at the other end of the line.
"And how isn't it?"
"We're going shopping for party crap. I don't take dates to the store. It's not a date."
"I don't know. Why are you doing this again? It doesn't make sense, you barely know Chi-Chi, you barely know any of us."
"I have my reasons," he insisted. "Are you coming or not?"
Silence.
"Well?"
"Y-Yeah…" she managed to squeeze out. "When are you coming to get me?"
"I'm in your driveway," came his sly reply.
"And what if I said no?" She crept towards the window and pulled back the curtain, nearly startled when she saw his car exactly where he said it was, him sitting on the hood, phone to his ear, and looking directly at her.
"I knew you wouldn't."
"How?"
"I just did. Now hurry up, I don't have all day."
"You're an ass, Vegeta," she sighed.
"So I've been told."
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"Hold still!" Bulma snapped, smacking Vegeta on the head. "I can't reach if you keep wobbling like that!"
"Well if you didn't weigh a ton, I'd be able to hold you up," he groaned, trying in dismay to keep her up on his shoulders.
"Got it!" she cheered, and nearly went tumbling to the ground. Vegeta caught her at the last second, his arms tightly around her waist, their faces inches apart. "Thanks," she murmured, tossing the extra large package of bulk peanut butter cups into the cart. "I don't get why they put something so big and heavy so high up."
"Yeah," he said smoothly, brushing his hand along her stomach as he turned to grab the cart and resume shopping. "I still think getting those are a bad idea." They turned the corner, nearly running into an angry older woman with an armful of rice cakes.
"Why? It'll keep Krillin quiet for most of the night," she laughed. "I figure we should get everyone their favorite food and that way no one can complain. Easy."
"I thought one of the points of this get-together was so our 'groups' could get to know each other. 18 won't talk to anyone while she's stuffing her face with those things."
"She likes 'em too, eh?" She gave him a sly smile, then dumped six boxes of gummi bears and gummi worms into the cart. "For Goku."
"How do you know he likes those?"
"Every time I turned around he had a bag full of them. I have eyes you know."
"Woman..."
"Bulma."
It was another hour before Bulma and Vegeta finally emerged from the grocery store, pushing a cartload of junk food and over-done cardboard party favors. Ten minutes into the drive back, Bulma realized they weren't headed for her house.
"Where are we going, Vegeta?" This was nowhere near her neighborhood. They were almost on the other side of the city.
"My house," came his words, as crisp and confident as though they were rehearsed. Bulma guessed that they were. "Why? Can't handle being with a rock star for too long?"
"No," she retorted, turning to look back out the window. "I can't stand being with a jackass for too long."
"Ooow. Good one. You're not afraid to say what's on your mind, are you?" She gave him a questioning glance. "I take that as a yes. I figured as much in the first five minutes of meeting you. Why do you think I didn't protest to the date?"
"Stop it."
"What?"
"Trying to win me over, or whatever you're doing. It's not going to work. I'm not going to be another one of your whores." She crossed her arms uncomfortably and tried not to look over at him. "Take me home, please."
"Kami," he sighed, turning on his right blinker and coming to a stop at a red light. "You think you're so tough, don't you?"
"Don't you?"
"Yes, I like to think I'm stronger than the average person. But you, you really believe it, that you're better than everyone and you can just say whatever the hell you want and no one will think twice because you're Princess of Capsule Corp."
"That is NOT who I am at all, Vegeta!" she hissed, forgetting her previous request to go home. "Besides, who are you to talk? You walk around sporting this suave Kami's-gift-to-women attitude when really you're just a lost little boy who's too scared to admit that he's been heartbroken ever since his dad died. You're so concerned about not wanting others to think you care that you forget to have real feelings and remember that other people do too. Do you even think before you jump into bed with at least half the women you doop? I bet if you gave at least one of them a second glance you may see something you didn't the first time, you know, like her face."
"'You're so cold'," he sighed, shaking his head. "'You speak so powerfully your mind and yet you have no voice for the woman that you truly are inside. Your soul screams to be released into the world, but ah, with you as the prison guard, she has no chance and must remain locked away in that cold cell of a heart.'"
Bulma blinked hard, then stared at Vegeta as though he'd just shot someone in front of her.
"Holy Kami," she gasped under her breath. "Anzai. The Silent Paradise of Belinda's Heart."
"The one and only," he sighed, almost tiredly. "Just started to read him. Good writer, that guy."
"Excuse me, but I don't see YOU reading someone like Anzai Anzai. He's too…too…"
"Archaic?…Symbolic?…Revolutionary?"
"Too good for you," she finally managed, curling her nose. She wasn't about to let his little show of knowledge appear to have the effect it actually did. "Take me home."
"I don't think you'll want to go home."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Well, at first I thought it was because I'm so unbelievably sexy that you can't bear to be without me, but then I realized I wasn't vain and self-involved, and, of course, you picked up on the little Anzai thing, so I have something to show you."
"I'm not interested."
"I think you might be."
"Try me."
"You first," he challenged, leaning close to her. Bulma nearly leaned in too, but at the last second jumped back and looked around almost frantically. "We stopped."
"Awhile ago," he laughed. "Come on. I swear that if you're not satisfied then I'll never bother you again."
"Why are you bothering me in the first place?"
He reached over and gently pushed some hair away from Bulma's face, lightly touching her cheek in the process and sending cold chills up her spine.
"Is it so hard to believe that I can actually want to just spend time with a girl? That my main goal at the end of the day isn't to bang whoever is within a five mile radius?"
She stared into his eyes for a long moment, as if memorizing the flecks of color and the way the minimal sunlight seemed to dance and make his eyes wholly more spectacular than they already were.
"Sometimes," she finally said. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, silently telling him that she would accompany him inside. He followed suit. "But you can't blame me after all I've read about you and what your friends told me. You're quite the man whore."
"Guilty as charged. But why do I have to be only that?" he all but demanded. "The damn tabloids are so hell-bent about on getting a good scandal that they forget they're writing about an actual person. It's bullshit what they say. Assholes…"
"But isn't that true about the girls you sleep with? Don't you treat them as, excuse my language, just a good lay?"
"Not always. Depends on how they feed my intellectual palate, though most are starved themselves."
Bulma let out a small laugh and grabbed Vegeta's wrist.
"Come on, I can't wait to meet your mother."
"Oh kuso…"
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"18 here," 18 said as she picked up her cell phone. "Say something before I hang up."
"Hello, you don't know me," came a male voice, "but I'm friends with Bulma Briefs." He paused.
"Keep going. You're doing good so far."
"I need your help, to make her happy, that is. I have this…plan, and I think, well, I know it'll work if I could only get some information from you."
"Ah, so that's what you want, info? Well, umm, whoever the hell you are, I can't help you there. I don't know a thing about the girl. I like her, don't get me wrong, but I don't know her all that well yet."
"My name's Yamcha."
Silence.
"I take it she's told you about me."
"You've been mentioned," she squeezed out, swallowing hard. "But what kind of information can I give you? And what's all this about?"
"Well—"
"Wait, hold that thought. I don't even know you, kid. Look, I'll tell you what. I've seen a picture of you. Meet me at the café in Townsend, I'll come over to you, and we'll go from there, ok?"
"Wow, I thought I'd need a lot more convincing than that. You don't even know me."
"I know, but I know Bulma, sort of. Well, I know her enough to know that right now she's not happy. She needs something, and since you know her well, I think you could have a pretty good idea as to what can help her. I'm not one for charity work, but I genuinely like this chick. She's cool. I want to get to know her better, blah, blah, you know?"
"Tomorrow at seven?"
"It's a date stranger boy."
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
---Chapter 11! There you go, enjoy :) Hope everyone liked it. I've made a little more progress, but, as you know (I think), I'm one to take my stories slowly. I don't like to rush into things. I think it's more realistic that way. But enough of what I think, what do you think?
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)
Next time: What the hell could Yamcha want with 18? And what's this? Vegeta and Bulma getting along? There is a god! :P
Note: Don't mind the Vegeta mushy-ness. It'll all be explained in due time, unless you've figured it out, that is :P