DBZ? No, I don't own it. Sorry!
First Person POV
Last time:
He rolled his eyes, just now realizing that he * won't * be getting anything out of me right then. "Fine then. Let's get you taken care of, and then I'll figure out how to cook with your. . . * utensils *."
I sighed, not being able to do much else, and let myself be taken care of by Vegeta
Continuing:
It's been an hour since the bath, and for some reason I keep feeling worse. I suppose I should dish out details, though, huh? Well, here's a flashback . . .
~*~*~
"Damn it Onna! Quit squirming!"
Vegeta had already gotten me out of the bath, somewhat awkwardly, dried me off and set me on my bed to go get disinfectants.
Now he was * trying * to clean off the cut on my thigh. It burned like Hell.
"Onna!" He finally just held my thigh down and continued rubbing the cut with alcohol. I cried out in pain, tears already leaving my eyes. It hurt and stung and it felt like Vegeta was trying to kill me, not help.
"Stop screaming! My ears are going to bleed!"
In a fit of rage, even in my weak state, I managed to speak in full words. "I wouldn't BE screaming if you dlidn't - wisn't - OW!" Without meaning to, the next word out of my mouth was, "Mercy!"
Vegeta was utterly shocked. He quit, yes, but was openly staring at me. Figures. (The first time I say 'mercy' to him and it's because I can't fight back while he's cleaning a horribly infected cut.)
I moaned and shut my eyes, not wanting to see him * look * at me like that. "Quit staring," I mumbled, the words sounding more like, "Clt sarin."
He blinked at me. After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence - to me - he got up and left again, saying something about the cut's clean enough for now and he was hungry.
He came back only minutes later after having a swearing contest with the pots and pans. (Who knew the Saiyan was so clumsy around uncharted territory?)
He picked me up, finally deciding I should be dressed in something - choosing my nightgown from earlier - took me downstairs and put me on a chair. I swore at him as best I could before sliding to the floor while his back was turned.
Vegeta turned at the * Thud * though. I saw him slap his forehead and mutter something to himself. He went over to me, picked me up again and put me this time on a couch in the living room. He said something along the lines of:
"I can't figure out how to cook using your things. I'm just an insignificant prick. Please, teach me how be human, Bulma."
I laughed, knowing now that I was going delusional. I somehow managed to tell him as much, and what my mind turned his words into.
Vegeta wasn't happy.
He growled at me and * CLEARLY * asked me where he could find something to clear my head. Of course, that was disfigured as well. I ended up telling him where constipation pills were.
He hit his head with a vase. "NO, onna. Where - are - some - sort - of - medicine - to - make - your - head - clearer?"
I understood THAT. My words, mumbled as they were, somehow got through to Vegeta and he left for my lab. When he came back I was spacing out.
I kept pointing up and saying "Pretty birdies, sing me a song", "The moon looks like cheese", and "Peanut butter!" He groaned and tried to get me to sit still while he gave me a shot. He was probably thinking that there wasn't a moon out, it wasn't cheese, and there were no birds.
I had identity crisis for a minute while seeing the needle, thinking I was Goku and struggling and screaming to get away from the shot. It was rather amusing for Vegeta, though. I only manage to flop over onto the ground, lying on my stomach and trying to crawl away, not getting anywhere thanks to my weakness.
I kept saying, "What happened to my strength? I'm the strongest fighter in the universe, how could it go like this! Bulma! Help!"
Vegeta was cracking up by then.
"Not the needle! Anything but the needle! I'd rather die! Bulma, Chichi, Gohan, anyone!"
Vegeta barely managed to contain himself and pulled me onto the couch, me still screaming for help from myself.
The shot backfired - HORRIBLY.
Instead of it clearing my mind, I went more woozy and loopy. I started to see swirling colors in front of my eyes and my thoughts were broken up. Like if I were to try and think 'I love my Mom and Dad', it would come out more like 'Dad love Mom and peanut butter!'
My sentences were even more screwed up, giving Vegeta the laugh of his life. He even got tears in his eyes at times. I said things like, "Woozy, kitty, hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to hot dogs I go, bears plus babies! Cliff ahoy!" Giggle. "Vegeta, Queen of buggers!" He didn't like that one. "Shadow q-tip bee!"
It all went along like that. Vegeta didn't even attempt to ask me any more questions - unless it was for his own amusement. He kept cracking up while trying to cook; sometimes laughing so hard he couldn't stand.
~*~*~
That's as far as it went. For the next forty-five minutes I was spewing out oddball sentences. Sometimes words that even * I * wasn't familiar with. And somehow Vegeta managed to find the video camera and record me. Heaven only knows how he found out how to use it. I WOULD HAVE asked him, had it not been for my acid trip, so to speak.
It took me another hour-and-a-half for the effects of the serum to wear off. Unfortunately for me by then he got the funniest of me on video.
The food he made wasn't half-bad, especially considering he nearly burned the house down several times because of the things I said. I also couldn't move the slightest bit by then. I'd wasted all of my newfound energy while intoxicated.
That's when he decided to clean out my cut again. He scared everyone out of Capsule Corp. before he even brought me back to my room. This way no one could call the authorities about the screaming I'd give.
He thought wrong. I didn't have the energy to scream even once - instead all I could do was cry silently and whimper. "It's your own fault for not having this checked out sooner, woman," he kept saying over and over.
It took him only minutes to have it disinfected again, and then he left me to sleep after putting everything back.
(But . . . I don't want you to go . . .)
First Person POV
Last time:
He rolled his eyes, just now realizing that he * won't * be getting anything out of me right then. "Fine then. Let's get you taken care of, and then I'll figure out how to cook with your. . . * utensils *."
I sighed, not being able to do much else, and let myself be taken care of by Vegeta
Continuing:
It's been an hour since the bath, and for some reason I keep feeling worse. I suppose I should dish out details, though, huh? Well, here's a flashback . . .
~*~*~
"Damn it Onna! Quit squirming!"
Vegeta had already gotten me out of the bath, somewhat awkwardly, dried me off and set me on my bed to go get disinfectants.
Now he was * trying * to clean off the cut on my thigh. It burned like Hell.
"Onna!" He finally just held my thigh down and continued rubbing the cut with alcohol. I cried out in pain, tears already leaving my eyes. It hurt and stung and it felt like Vegeta was trying to kill me, not help.
"Stop screaming! My ears are going to bleed!"
In a fit of rage, even in my weak state, I managed to speak in full words. "I wouldn't BE screaming if you dlidn't - wisn't - OW!" Without meaning to, the next word out of my mouth was, "Mercy!"
Vegeta was utterly shocked. He quit, yes, but was openly staring at me. Figures. (The first time I say 'mercy' to him and it's because I can't fight back while he's cleaning a horribly infected cut.)
I moaned and shut my eyes, not wanting to see him * look * at me like that. "Quit staring," I mumbled, the words sounding more like, "Clt sarin."
He blinked at me. After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence - to me - he got up and left again, saying something about the cut's clean enough for now and he was hungry.
He came back only minutes later after having a swearing contest with the pots and pans. (Who knew the Saiyan was so clumsy around uncharted territory?)
He picked me up, finally deciding I should be dressed in something - choosing my nightgown from earlier - took me downstairs and put me on a chair. I swore at him as best I could before sliding to the floor while his back was turned.
Vegeta turned at the * Thud * though. I saw him slap his forehead and mutter something to himself. He went over to me, picked me up again and put me this time on a couch in the living room. He said something along the lines of:
"I can't figure out how to cook using your things. I'm just an insignificant prick. Please, teach me how be human, Bulma."
I laughed, knowing now that I was going delusional. I somehow managed to tell him as much, and what my mind turned his words into.
Vegeta wasn't happy.
He growled at me and * CLEARLY * asked me where he could find something to clear my head. Of course, that was disfigured as well. I ended up telling him where constipation pills were.
He hit his head with a vase. "NO, onna. Where - are - some - sort - of - medicine - to - make - your - head - clearer?"
I understood THAT. My words, mumbled as they were, somehow got through to Vegeta and he left for my lab. When he came back I was spacing out.
I kept pointing up and saying "Pretty birdies, sing me a song", "The moon looks like cheese", and "Peanut butter!" He groaned and tried to get me to sit still while he gave me a shot. He was probably thinking that there wasn't a moon out, it wasn't cheese, and there were no birds.
I had identity crisis for a minute while seeing the needle, thinking I was Goku and struggling and screaming to get away from the shot. It was rather amusing for Vegeta, though. I only manage to flop over onto the ground, lying on my stomach and trying to crawl away, not getting anywhere thanks to my weakness.
I kept saying, "What happened to my strength? I'm the strongest fighter in the universe, how could it go like this! Bulma! Help!"
Vegeta was cracking up by then.
"Not the needle! Anything but the needle! I'd rather die! Bulma, Chichi, Gohan, anyone!"
Vegeta barely managed to contain himself and pulled me onto the couch, me still screaming for help from myself.
The shot backfired - HORRIBLY.
Instead of it clearing my mind, I went more woozy and loopy. I started to see swirling colors in front of my eyes and my thoughts were broken up. Like if I were to try and think 'I love my Mom and Dad', it would come out more like 'Dad love Mom and peanut butter!'
My sentences were even more screwed up, giving Vegeta the laugh of his life. He even got tears in his eyes at times. I said things like, "Woozy, kitty, hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to hot dogs I go, bears plus babies! Cliff ahoy!" Giggle. "Vegeta, Queen of buggers!" He didn't like that one. "Shadow q-tip bee!"
It all went along like that. Vegeta didn't even attempt to ask me any more questions - unless it was for his own amusement. He kept cracking up while trying to cook; sometimes laughing so hard he couldn't stand.
~*~*~
That's as far as it went. For the next forty-five minutes I was spewing out oddball sentences. Sometimes words that even * I * wasn't familiar with. And somehow Vegeta managed to find the video camera and record me. Heaven only knows how he found out how to use it. I WOULD HAVE asked him, had it not been for my acid trip, so to speak.
It took me another hour-and-a-half for the effects of the serum to wear off. Unfortunately for me by then he got the funniest of me on video.
The food he made wasn't half-bad, especially considering he nearly burned the house down several times because of the things I said. I also couldn't move the slightest bit by then. I'd wasted all of my newfound energy while intoxicated.
That's when he decided to clean out my cut again. He scared everyone out of Capsule Corp. before he even brought me back to my room. This way no one could call the authorities about the screaming I'd give.
He thought wrong. I didn't have the energy to scream even once - instead all I could do was cry silently and whimper. "It's your own fault for not having this checked out sooner, woman," he kept saying over and over.
It took him only minutes to have it disinfected again, and then he left me to sleep after putting everything back.
(But . . . I don't want you to go . . .)