Last time:
"Yes," she breathed, the passion beginning to fill her completely. "I hate that I do, but I do, and I'm not going to stop myself again."
"Good," he whispered with a smirk, as he yanked off her pants.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma let out a soft moan as Vegeta's teeth grazed her neck, his arms wrapped around her, fingers raking through her untamed aquamarine locks. She was completely at ease with him, surrendering to herself, to every little thing she'd ever thought about to keep herself from being with him the way she'd wanted since day one. Of course, there had been those silly girlish dreams of dating your favorite rock star, but since meeting the band, those dreams disappeared completely, and he was only Vegeta Ouji, the enigma she both wanted and hated.
But, no matter what she did—or what he did for that matter—she could never stop thinking about him, never stop wanting him as her own. Being "just another lay to him" was the strongest thing keeping her from jumping into bed with him, let alone starting a relationship. She couldn't allow herself to be put in that type of situation deliberately, not after what happened with Yamcha. True, it didn't really hurt with Yamcha, for in the back of her mind she knew it was what she wanted—but the principle of the matter was his disloyalty to her. She didn't think she'd be able to handle that again.
She didn't think that, until Vegeta came into her life that is. Once he was there, she knew, no matter how much she tried to push him away or deny it. She wanted him. She was starting to love him. She couldn't keep herself away from him any longer. She was giving up on her foolish girlhood quest for the perfect man. No man could ever be perfect, and none could be as good as Vegeta, she now realized. He was the best for her, she was never going to get any better. Yamcha taught her that. And, not that it was a bad thing, because she saw herself liking him more and more each day, and, if she didn't pay attention, one day she would love him and wouldn't understand where that emotion came from all of a sudden.
So, instead of being cold as ice, or stone, or anything else that her visage could be compared to, she was going to go out on a limb, take a chance, and pick herself up later if she happened to fall. It was better than nothing, better than hiding and not being able to say she took a chance with the only man she may ever possibly feel that way about.
She was done. She was surrendering.
"Vegeta," Bulma suddenly whispered, her mouth touching his ear. A shiver ran through him and he picked his head up and looked into her eyes. She was confused.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just…well, I like foreplay and all, but it's been awhile and…you just stopped. You were just laying on top of me for like two minutes before I could get your attention."
"What are you talking about?" he all but hissed. He climbed to his feet immediately and pulled on his discarded shirt. His pants had never been completely taken off. "You're too good to please?" he snapped. "Little Princess can't be patient? No man is good enough to please her? What about your scum of an ex? Was he good enough, Princess?"
"Vegeta!" Bulma sat straight up, too shocked to cover her naked body; and she was completely without clothing. In his slow and agonizing manner, Vegeta had made sure of that. "What the hell are you attacking me for? First I push you away and you scream, and now I want you and you scream. Pick one. Kami…"
"Shut up. Just shut up. I don't need this from you."
"I don't need a lot of things either, Vegeta, but you seem to give me plenty of that. Now you tell me what this is all about, or I'm calling a cab and going to the airport. I don't care how fucking late it is. I cannot stand another episode like this." She took a deep breath, then said, "Tell me or I leave."
Vegeta only turned and stormed into the next room, throwing curses left and right, and hurriedly packing his bag, though he was only stuffing towels and mini shampoos into his suitcase, for they hadn't been there long enough to unpack. After a few minutes of hysterics, however, the other room went quiet, and for several moments, Bulma held her breath.
"I'm not going to tell you," he finally said, entering the bedroom. "Not really. Just that I don't think it's right for us to be…whatever we are. It's not going to work and we'll just end up—"
"Hating each other?" Bulma offered, as she pulled a complimentary bathrobe over her now clothed body.
"Yeah…" he sighed. He walked all the way up to her, though stopped himself from wrapping his arms around her. She, however, was not so afraid, and indulged in one last kiss before she allowed herself to let go of the man who could very well have been the man she was supposed to end up with. "I have to make a call," he said, stepping back. "Jun's going to tear me a new one when I get back anyway, so I might as well soften the blow now."
"Alright. I'm going to go outside for a minute and look at the view."
"It's freezing outside," he protested, in the midst of dialing.
"I know," she laughed and gave him a pat on the head. "I'll be fine. I'm only going out for a minute. I want to see how Greece looks at night, since we're heading out in the morning."
"Ok. I'll be in the den. I'm going to start a fire and grab some marshmallows."
"Good idea."
She turned to exit out their bedroom door, onto the balcony, that she knew overlooked Athens, when Vegeta grabbed her arm gently.
"Spain," was all he said, then disappeared through the opposite doorway and down the hall.
"Good," Bulma said to herself, pulling her rode tighter. "I've always wanted to go there."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"That's impossible!" Vegeta stammered, nearly smacking his head on the fireplace's mantle as he stood. "She can't do that!"
"She can, and she is," Jun said on the other line. "And right now I need you to get on a plane and come home. The sooner we sort all of this out, the more likely our chances to win."
"More likely!? She's insane, Jun! How can we lose?"
"Well, seeing as the day I find out we're being sued you fly off to Europe…So yeah, Vegeta, I think she may have a chance. That and the little fuck up 18 did. And, of course, all your wonderful liaisons with half your fans!"
"There's no way she can win. Our lawyers are too smart for that. Every lawsuit we've had they've beaten. None ever made it to the papers, that's how good they are."
"Yeah, but we're talking about Sen, Vegeta. She has money, plenty of money. Ours and her own. She can hire the best lawyer in America, or Japan for that matter, and win. Plus, she has media power. She's a semi-well-known author. People know her name. If she can get one paper to print her story, it'll be all over the news by that night. We need to get a strategy and we need you here to do that. So ditch your little fling and come back!"
"She is NOT my little fling," Vegeta retorted before he could stop himself. "She's nothing, ok? I didn't even fucking sleep with her if you must know. She's…" He trailed off as Bulma entered the room, her cheeks pink from the cold. He pointed to the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars on the coffee table. She nodded.
"She's what?"
"Like 18," he forced out, gritting his teeth.
"Whatever. I don't care. She's not important. She has nothing to do with this. Just get your ass in Satan City by tomorrow. I'll call Sen and set up a meeting."
"No."
"What do you mean, no? Vegeta—"
"I'll be back in two days. That's the best I can do."
"The best!?" Jun hissed. Bulma heard her across the room and tried not to laugh. "Vegeta, your career is over if this whore wins."
"I don't care. I'll be there in two days. Start without me if you're so hell-bent on it."
"Vege—"
"What was that all about?" Bulma asked.
"Sen," he grumbled, grabbing the two skewers he'd set on the mantle. He handed one to Bulma, then stuffed a marshmallow on his own.
"What about her?"
"She's suing us."
"What? That sounds serious Vegeta. Maybe we should—"
"I'm not going back, ok? Not for that bitch. She's screwed with me too many times. She's not going to ruin my vacation. Besides, we've been sued before. We never lose."
"If you're sure, then ok."
"I'm sure."
"Here." She grabbed Vegeta's wrist and pulled his arm back, so his marshmallow wasn't surrounded by raging flames. "It won't get burnt if you hold it just above the flames, like this."
He only rolled his eyes, and eased in next to her. If he couldn't enjoy an open relationship with her, then he sure as hell was going to enjoy smelling her apple shampoo when she wasn't looking.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
10:16 am and Bulma and Vegeta stepped off the small private jet, onto a small runway in Madrid, Spain. The wind was calmer here than in the lower mountains of Greece, but the air was just as cold and biting. Bulma wrapped her heavy French coat tighter and brought the collar up to semi-shield her face (I imagine her coat looking like Rose's did on Titanic. You know, the purplish one with the black designs that she left behind). But, despite the cold, she felt completely happy to finally be in Spain, a country she'd wanted to visit ever since she'd gotten her hands on an art book.
"I have to visit the Prado," she said to Vegeta as they walked towards their rented limo. She smiled at the gesture; their trip seemed to get more luxurious as they went along.
"Why else would I bring you to Spain in the middle of winter?" Vegeta sighed, opening the back door of the limo. Bulma climbed in and settled by the window, stretching out her legs.
"We came to Spain JUST to go to the Prado?"
"If you like Anzai, then you like art too. And the Prado has my favorite artist, so yes, just for the Prado."
"Whose your favorite artist?"
"Who else?" he laughed, then tapped the glass between the back cabin and the driver's cabin. "Hieronymus Bosch."
"Really!?" Bulma all but yelled, holding onto her seat as the car lurched forward. "He's mine too!"
"I should have known."
The trip to the museum took no more than fifteen minutes, and, within moments, Bulma was standing at the entrance to the Prado, a place she'd only wished to visit until now. It was a slightly ancient-looking building, with four great columns at the higher entrance, and three modern glass double doors at the lower entrance. To reach the columned entrance, one had to take either of the two staircases; one to the right and one to the left, both towering over the lower entrance. Once they were inside, Bulma let out a deep breath and grabbed Vegeta's wrist.
"I have to see the 'Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things' and 'The Garden of Earthly Delights'."
"Favorites?" Vegeta asked offhandedly as he paid for two tickets.
"Favorite and most famous." She glanced around the bustling main lobby, a permanent smile etched in her features. "What's your favorite?"
"My two favorites aren't here," he said, almost sadly as they made their way to the Bosch paintings. "'Death of the Reprobate' and 'Ascent of the Blessed'. I've seen 'Ascent' in Venice, but the other one is in a private collection in New York. But, my favorite one here is the 'Creation of the World'."
"I'm very impressed," Bulma laughed, as they turned the corner. "I would have thought 'The Garden' would be your favorite, what with all the suggestiveness."
"I'm more cultured than you let yourself believe."
"Right, 'Geta, keep telling yourself that. You—" But the sight of the magnificent, and worldly famous, triptych caught Bulma's attention and she stopped in her tracks, jaw dropped. Several people ran into her on accounted of her sudden halt, but once the painting came into view, all were silent. "It's amazing," she whispered, her hand absently slipping into Vegeta's. "I can't believe I'm here."
"That's what I said the first time I came here too."
"But where's the 'Seven Deadly—" Again she was taken back by the painting she was looking for. It was everything she would have thought about it seeing it in person. She combed every inch of it with her eyes, stopping in several places to better see the details. After a long while, she let out a small gasp and turned to Vegeta. "You made my year," she said, in all seriousness.
"How long will you be?"
"In the Bosch section?"
"Yeah."
"Can you give me an hour? Then we can look at the rest of the museum if you like."
"No," he said, almost sternly. "We have a flight to catch in three hours. After you're done here, we're going to this restaurant I like, and then back to the runway."
"Where do we go from there?"
"The best for last," was all he said, then continued down the gallery towards his favorite painting, leaving Bulma to admire hers in peace.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma decided to chance another phone call home before they left Spain and headed south, wherever that might be. In the privacy of a back booth in a charming Spanish restaurant, Bulma dialed the number for Chi-Chi's, figuring that she might catch Krillin there as well. Vegeta took it upon himself to order for them, practically demanding that Bulma get a certain dish. She didn't care. She wanted to reconcile with Chi-Chi before she got home.
"Hello?" came a voice finally. Bulma sighed, it was Mr. Mau.
"Hi Ox," she said, nodding to the waiter who brought her tea. "Is Chi-Chi there?"
"No, I'm sorry dear. She and Goku went to dinner."
"Oh, right. It's later over there. Hey, what time are they coming back?"
"I'm not sure. Sorry."
"Do you know if Krillin is home or not?"
"No," he laughed, startling Bulma just a little. "He's right here, with Maris. We're all playing Scrabble, and she's creaming us."
"Really!? Can you put him on?"
"Sure thing dear. Oh, how's your trip?"
"It's great, I'll tell you all about it when I get back."
"Splendid."
"Hello?" Krillin's annoyed voice came on.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, Maris is pissing me off though. I keep losing turns 'cause I keep challenging her words."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Hey, can you tell me if Chi-Chi said anything to you? You know, about our fight."
"Not much," he sighed, then swore under his breath. "She mentioned you called and got into a fight, that's about it. I think she's just jealous though, to tell you the truth. Goku's not capable to really take her anywhere in his condition. And, well, Vegeta just doesn't seem like the romantic type. Goku does."
"I see what you mean…Hmm…Can you tell her something for me?"
"Sure."
"I bought her something in Paris, something she's going to love. It's clothing. Can you remember that?"
"No, please, tell…me…slow…er…"
"Stop. Oh, and I got you and Maris something too."
"Awesome. What?"
"Stop. I'll be home in a few days. Bye cueball."
"Hey!"
Bulma hung up before he could protest, just in time for their meals to arrive.
"Damn, that was fast."
"Big tips," Vegeta said, then dug into his lunch.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma let out an anxious gasp as the plane began to descend over their next and final destination. It was a warm place, covered in sand and sunlight, though the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. Miles stretched out in all directions, but Bulma's eyes seemed to stay stationary on a few objects. Pyramids.
They were flying onto a small—private—runway in Egypt, which Bulma figured cost a hefty sum. A few homes were in the distance, and something told her that one of them was where they were headed.
"Stop making me love you," she said as the plane came to a complete stop.
"I'm trying…" Vegeta sighed, then stood to grab their luggage.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
---Chapter 23! :D Well, I know I pissed some people off with not having Bulma and Vegeta get together just yet, but don't worry! I WILL! I PROMISE! :D I have my plans, and this was definitely part of it.
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters) …and less broken bones ;)
Next time: Back home and the wrath of Sen, LOL!
Note: I've never been to any of the places I wrote about. I was just winging it. The description of the outside of the Prado I got from a picture off the internet. I don't know what the inside looks like…and I have NO clue about Egypt. So bear with me :P
"Yes," she breathed, the passion beginning to fill her completely. "I hate that I do, but I do, and I'm not going to stop myself again."
"Good," he whispered with a smirk, as he yanked off her pants.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma let out a soft moan as Vegeta's teeth grazed her neck, his arms wrapped around her, fingers raking through her untamed aquamarine locks. She was completely at ease with him, surrendering to herself, to every little thing she'd ever thought about to keep herself from being with him the way she'd wanted since day one. Of course, there had been those silly girlish dreams of dating your favorite rock star, but since meeting the band, those dreams disappeared completely, and he was only Vegeta Ouji, the enigma she both wanted and hated.
But, no matter what she did—or what he did for that matter—she could never stop thinking about him, never stop wanting him as her own. Being "just another lay to him" was the strongest thing keeping her from jumping into bed with him, let alone starting a relationship. She couldn't allow herself to be put in that type of situation deliberately, not after what happened with Yamcha. True, it didn't really hurt with Yamcha, for in the back of her mind she knew it was what she wanted—but the principle of the matter was his disloyalty to her. She didn't think she'd be able to handle that again.
She didn't think that, until Vegeta came into her life that is. Once he was there, she knew, no matter how much she tried to push him away or deny it. She wanted him. She was starting to love him. She couldn't keep herself away from him any longer. She was giving up on her foolish girlhood quest for the perfect man. No man could ever be perfect, and none could be as good as Vegeta, she now realized. He was the best for her, she was never going to get any better. Yamcha taught her that. And, not that it was a bad thing, because she saw herself liking him more and more each day, and, if she didn't pay attention, one day she would love him and wouldn't understand where that emotion came from all of a sudden.
So, instead of being cold as ice, or stone, or anything else that her visage could be compared to, she was going to go out on a limb, take a chance, and pick herself up later if she happened to fall. It was better than nothing, better than hiding and not being able to say she took a chance with the only man she may ever possibly feel that way about.
She was done. She was surrendering.
"Vegeta," Bulma suddenly whispered, her mouth touching his ear. A shiver ran through him and he picked his head up and looked into her eyes. She was confused.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just…well, I like foreplay and all, but it's been awhile and…you just stopped. You were just laying on top of me for like two minutes before I could get your attention."
"What are you talking about?" he all but hissed. He climbed to his feet immediately and pulled on his discarded shirt. His pants had never been completely taken off. "You're too good to please?" he snapped. "Little Princess can't be patient? No man is good enough to please her? What about your scum of an ex? Was he good enough, Princess?"
"Vegeta!" Bulma sat straight up, too shocked to cover her naked body; and she was completely without clothing. In his slow and agonizing manner, Vegeta had made sure of that. "What the hell are you attacking me for? First I push you away and you scream, and now I want you and you scream. Pick one. Kami…"
"Shut up. Just shut up. I don't need this from you."
"I don't need a lot of things either, Vegeta, but you seem to give me plenty of that. Now you tell me what this is all about, or I'm calling a cab and going to the airport. I don't care how fucking late it is. I cannot stand another episode like this." She took a deep breath, then said, "Tell me or I leave."
Vegeta only turned and stormed into the next room, throwing curses left and right, and hurriedly packing his bag, though he was only stuffing towels and mini shampoos into his suitcase, for they hadn't been there long enough to unpack. After a few minutes of hysterics, however, the other room went quiet, and for several moments, Bulma held her breath.
"I'm not going to tell you," he finally said, entering the bedroom. "Not really. Just that I don't think it's right for us to be…whatever we are. It's not going to work and we'll just end up—"
"Hating each other?" Bulma offered, as she pulled a complimentary bathrobe over her now clothed body.
"Yeah…" he sighed. He walked all the way up to her, though stopped himself from wrapping his arms around her. She, however, was not so afraid, and indulged in one last kiss before she allowed herself to let go of the man who could very well have been the man she was supposed to end up with. "I have to make a call," he said, stepping back. "Jun's going to tear me a new one when I get back anyway, so I might as well soften the blow now."
"Alright. I'm going to go outside for a minute and look at the view."
"It's freezing outside," he protested, in the midst of dialing.
"I know," she laughed and gave him a pat on the head. "I'll be fine. I'm only going out for a minute. I want to see how Greece looks at night, since we're heading out in the morning."
"Ok. I'll be in the den. I'm going to start a fire and grab some marshmallows."
"Good idea."
She turned to exit out their bedroom door, onto the balcony, that she knew overlooked Athens, when Vegeta grabbed her arm gently.
"Spain," was all he said, then disappeared through the opposite doorway and down the hall.
"Good," Bulma said to herself, pulling her rode tighter. "I've always wanted to go there."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"That's impossible!" Vegeta stammered, nearly smacking his head on the fireplace's mantle as he stood. "She can't do that!"
"She can, and she is," Jun said on the other line. "And right now I need you to get on a plane and come home. The sooner we sort all of this out, the more likely our chances to win."
"More likely!? She's insane, Jun! How can we lose?"
"Well, seeing as the day I find out we're being sued you fly off to Europe…So yeah, Vegeta, I think she may have a chance. That and the little fuck up 18 did. And, of course, all your wonderful liaisons with half your fans!"
"There's no way she can win. Our lawyers are too smart for that. Every lawsuit we've had they've beaten. None ever made it to the papers, that's how good they are."
"Yeah, but we're talking about Sen, Vegeta. She has money, plenty of money. Ours and her own. She can hire the best lawyer in America, or Japan for that matter, and win. Plus, she has media power. She's a semi-well-known author. People know her name. If she can get one paper to print her story, it'll be all over the news by that night. We need to get a strategy and we need you here to do that. So ditch your little fling and come back!"
"She is NOT my little fling," Vegeta retorted before he could stop himself. "She's nothing, ok? I didn't even fucking sleep with her if you must know. She's…" He trailed off as Bulma entered the room, her cheeks pink from the cold. He pointed to the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars on the coffee table. She nodded.
"She's what?"
"Like 18," he forced out, gritting his teeth.
"Whatever. I don't care. She's not important. She has nothing to do with this. Just get your ass in Satan City by tomorrow. I'll call Sen and set up a meeting."
"No."
"What do you mean, no? Vegeta—"
"I'll be back in two days. That's the best I can do."
"The best!?" Jun hissed. Bulma heard her across the room and tried not to laugh. "Vegeta, your career is over if this whore wins."
"I don't care. I'll be there in two days. Start without me if you're so hell-bent on it."
"Vege—"
"What was that all about?" Bulma asked.
"Sen," he grumbled, grabbing the two skewers he'd set on the mantle. He handed one to Bulma, then stuffed a marshmallow on his own.
"What about her?"
"She's suing us."
"What? That sounds serious Vegeta. Maybe we should—"
"I'm not going back, ok? Not for that bitch. She's screwed with me too many times. She's not going to ruin my vacation. Besides, we've been sued before. We never lose."
"If you're sure, then ok."
"I'm sure."
"Here." She grabbed Vegeta's wrist and pulled his arm back, so his marshmallow wasn't surrounded by raging flames. "It won't get burnt if you hold it just above the flames, like this."
He only rolled his eyes, and eased in next to her. If he couldn't enjoy an open relationship with her, then he sure as hell was going to enjoy smelling her apple shampoo when she wasn't looking.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
10:16 am and Bulma and Vegeta stepped off the small private jet, onto a small runway in Madrid, Spain. The wind was calmer here than in the lower mountains of Greece, but the air was just as cold and biting. Bulma wrapped her heavy French coat tighter and brought the collar up to semi-shield her face (I imagine her coat looking like Rose's did on Titanic. You know, the purplish one with the black designs that she left behind). But, despite the cold, she felt completely happy to finally be in Spain, a country she'd wanted to visit ever since she'd gotten her hands on an art book.
"I have to visit the Prado," she said to Vegeta as they walked towards their rented limo. She smiled at the gesture; their trip seemed to get more luxurious as they went along.
"Why else would I bring you to Spain in the middle of winter?" Vegeta sighed, opening the back door of the limo. Bulma climbed in and settled by the window, stretching out her legs.
"We came to Spain JUST to go to the Prado?"
"If you like Anzai, then you like art too. And the Prado has my favorite artist, so yes, just for the Prado."
"Whose your favorite artist?"
"Who else?" he laughed, then tapped the glass between the back cabin and the driver's cabin. "Hieronymus Bosch."
"Really!?" Bulma all but yelled, holding onto her seat as the car lurched forward. "He's mine too!"
"I should have known."
The trip to the museum took no more than fifteen minutes, and, within moments, Bulma was standing at the entrance to the Prado, a place she'd only wished to visit until now. It was a slightly ancient-looking building, with four great columns at the higher entrance, and three modern glass double doors at the lower entrance. To reach the columned entrance, one had to take either of the two staircases; one to the right and one to the left, both towering over the lower entrance. Once they were inside, Bulma let out a deep breath and grabbed Vegeta's wrist.
"I have to see the 'Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things' and 'The Garden of Earthly Delights'."
"Favorites?" Vegeta asked offhandedly as he paid for two tickets.
"Favorite and most famous." She glanced around the bustling main lobby, a permanent smile etched in her features. "What's your favorite?"
"My two favorites aren't here," he said, almost sadly as they made their way to the Bosch paintings. "'Death of the Reprobate' and 'Ascent of the Blessed'. I've seen 'Ascent' in Venice, but the other one is in a private collection in New York. But, my favorite one here is the 'Creation of the World'."
"I'm very impressed," Bulma laughed, as they turned the corner. "I would have thought 'The Garden' would be your favorite, what with all the suggestiveness."
"I'm more cultured than you let yourself believe."
"Right, 'Geta, keep telling yourself that. You—" But the sight of the magnificent, and worldly famous, triptych caught Bulma's attention and she stopped in her tracks, jaw dropped. Several people ran into her on accounted of her sudden halt, but once the painting came into view, all were silent. "It's amazing," she whispered, her hand absently slipping into Vegeta's. "I can't believe I'm here."
"That's what I said the first time I came here too."
"But where's the 'Seven Deadly—" Again she was taken back by the painting she was looking for. It was everything she would have thought about it seeing it in person. She combed every inch of it with her eyes, stopping in several places to better see the details. After a long while, she let out a small gasp and turned to Vegeta. "You made my year," she said, in all seriousness.
"How long will you be?"
"In the Bosch section?"
"Yeah."
"Can you give me an hour? Then we can look at the rest of the museum if you like."
"No," he said, almost sternly. "We have a flight to catch in three hours. After you're done here, we're going to this restaurant I like, and then back to the runway."
"Where do we go from there?"
"The best for last," was all he said, then continued down the gallery towards his favorite painting, leaving Bulma to admire hers in peace.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma decided to chance another phone call home before they left Spain and headed south, wherever that might be. In the privacy of a back booth in a charming Spanish restaurant, Bulma dialed the number for Chi-Chi's, figuring that she might catch Krillin there as well. Vegeta took it upon himself to order for them, practically demanding that Bulma get a certain dish. She didn't care. She wanted to reconcile with Chi-Chi before she got home.
"Hello?" came a voice finally. Bulma sighed, it was Mr. Mau.
"Hi Ox," she said, nodding to the waiter who brought her tea. "Is Chi-Chi there?"
"No, I'm sorry dear. She and Goku went to dinner."
"Oh, right. It's later over there. Hey, what time are they coming back?"
"I'm not sure. Sorry."
"Do you know if Krillin is home or not?"
"No," he laughed, startling Bulma just a little. "He's right here, with Maris. We're all playing Scrabble, and she's creaming us."
"Really!? Can you put him on?"
"Sure thing dear. Oh, how's your trip?"
"It's great, I'll tell you all about it when I get back."
"Splendid."
"Hello?" Krillin's annoyed voice came on.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, Maris is pissing me off though. I keep losing turns 'cause I keep challenging her words."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Hey, can you tell me if Chi-Chi said anything to you? You know, about our fight."
"Not much," he sighed, then swore under his breath. "She mentioned you called and got into a fight, that's about it. I think she's just jealous though, to tell you the truth. Goku's not capable to really take her anywhere in his condition. And, well, Vegeta just doesn't seem like the romantic type. Goku does."
"I see what you mean…Hmm…Can you tell her something for me?"
"Sure."
"I bought her something in Paris, something she's going to love. It's clothing. Can you remember that?"
"No, please, tell…me…slow…er…"
"Stop. Oh, and I got you and Maris something too."
"Awesome. What?"
"Stop. I'll be home in a few days. Bye cueball."
"Hey!"
Bulma hung up before he could protest, just in time for their meals to arrive.
"Damn, that was fast."
"Big tips," Vegeta said, then dug into his lunch.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma let out an anxious gasp as the plane began to descend over their next and final destination. It was a warm place, covered in sand and sunlight, though the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. Miles stretched out in all directions, but Bulma's eyes seemed to stay stationary on a few objects. Pyramids.
They were flying onto a small—private—runway in Egypt, which Bulma figured cost a hefty sum. A few homes were in the distance, and something told her that one of them was where they were headed.
"Stop making me love you," she said as the plane came to a complete stop.
"I'm trying…" Vegeta sighed, then stood to grab their luggage.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
---Chapter 23! :D Well, I know I pissed some people off with not having Bulma and Vegeta get together just yet, but don't worry! I WILL! I PROMISE! :D I have my plans, and this was definitely part of it.
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters) …and less broken bones ;)
Next time: Back home and the wrath of Sen, LOL!
Note: I've never been to any of the places I wrote about. I was just winging it. The description of the outside of the Prado I got from a picture off the internet. I don't know what the inside looks like…and I have NO clue about Egypt. So bear with me :P