DBZ? No, I don't own it. Sorry!
A/N: Anyone who has an idea is welcome to leave it in a review or e-mail it to me. Who knows, I might end up using it! After all, writing cliffhanger after cliffhanger isn't easy, especially considering I have to write a 'Reader Catcher' at the beginning of each new chapter! Even for me, that isn't easy! I'm running out of friggin' ideas here! * Sobs *
Third Person POV
Last time:
He very nearly killed himself for his thinking and actions earlier. That is, until he heard . . .
"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
He rushed back upstairs to the Onna without even thinking first . . .
Continuing on - yet AGAIN [This is getting old fast]:
When Vegeta found her she was clutching her injured thigh like it was on fire. "What's wrong?" he asked, a little too urgently for his liking.
Bulma looked at him, tears down her face, and said - rather, cried - "It feels terrible! I swear it's getting worse!"
She looked at her cut, which was now the living image of everything unhealthy. The way she was holding the cut caused yellow ooze to slip out, looking for all the world like the puss from a zit.
Vegeta was at her side in an instant, looking over the cut that was causing her so much pain. "Fuck!" he cursed and started wiping away the ooze with his 'sacred' bandana. Bulma screamed in agony at each touch, but kept holding herself back, knowing that this had to be done.
Without meaning to, and with regrets, Vegeta squeezed the cut to get out any other yellow puss. Bulma put her hand over her mouth that time and started twitching, screaming louder and crying into her hand, which Vegeta was rather thankful for. After all, if she continued to scream as loud as she was without muffling it somehow, she wouldn't be the only one bleeding.
She pulled a pillow from under her and pressed it to her face, trying still to be motionless. It didn't work though, as the pain kept her leg jerking away from the cause of the pain - i.e., Vegeta's hands - as trying to end it. She kept hearing him swear and order her to quit moving, but by now she couldn't help it. And how she was going to get out of this one, she had no idea.
Eventually her body gave, not wanting to feel the pain any longer, and she passed out, much to the relief of a certain Saiyan Prince.
This made it easier to clean and he kept up the squeeze - clean method until plain blood came from the cut - like it was supposed to in the first place.
Once that was done Vegeta had only one other idea, and it required stripping Bulma of her clothes again. He sighed mentally and did it, putting her again in a bath - this one, though, was warm, as to help the cut stay clean.
He went downstairs next and let her rest, sitting down on the couch and wondering what the next course of action would be. Luckily for him Goku had been scheduled to come by and spar with him.
Unfortunately, that was at 2:00, and it was only noon. However, he smirked, there * were * other ways of getting him here. He stood up and flared his ki, letting Goku especially know he was required.
Sure enough, Goku was there in thirty seconds flat. (Probably had to answer to that Harpy of a mate) he thought.
"Hey, Vegeta, what's going on?" Goku looked around a bit and noticed he had Transmissioned himself into the living room in Bulma's house.
"The woman has gotten severely ill. I can't help her anymore, so I require you to take her to one of those - "
"Bulma's sick?!" he yelled. Without giving Vegeta a chance to answer he ran upstairs to her room. He tried his best not to burst through the door, but in his concerned panic her nearly busted it down.
"Bulma?!" he said as he walked around the room. "Bulma?" he said, this time more calmly.
Vegeta was right behind him. "I had her take a bath." He tapped Goku on the shoulder and pointed to her bathroom. Goku hesitated, not wanting to see anything he shouldn't.
"Kakarot, listen to me." Goku turned around, concern still lacing his eyes. "She has a cut on her thigh, I don't know quite how she got it, but it got infected and needs treatment." He left out the part about bathing her and their kiss. "I have no idea where to go to find someone who * could * aid her, so that's where you come in."
"Someone to aid her?" he repeated, and thought over it a moment. "You mean a hospital?"
Vegeta nodded, remembering the name only just now.
Goku gave him a 'stupid' look. "I can't take her there naked, Vegeta."
Vegeta shrugged and walked over to her dresser, opening drawers and tossing one thing after another onto her bed. Once finished he left, saying only, "Then I guess you should get her dressed."
He heard Goku panic, doing that funny mini-gasping thing he did when he panicked. "Vegeta!" he whined. "I can't just . . .It's wrong, I can't . . . I'm not . . . I'm not going to dress her!" he finally said, bolting from the room and leaning against the wall next to her door, panting.
Vegeta was rather amused by this, however. He had his trademark smirk on, with one raised eyebrow, looking Goku up and down as though wondering if he was a man or not. "And why won't you?"
"She's my friend! I can't just * do * something like that! I can't!" He shook his head for extra emphasis. Then he mentally smiled, remembering the boy from the future. (Is this how they got together?) he wondered. He stood up straight, his panicked look gone from his face and replaced with a calmer one, and said, "Why don't you go dress her? You've obviously got no problem with it."
Vegeta was about to say something when Goku started to leave. "I'll be downstairs; let me know when to come get her."
Vegeta sputtered at him. (It sounds like he's trying to set us up!) He calmed himself down, though. (Relax. This is Kakarot we're talking about. He can't come up with a scheme unless his life depends on it in battle. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a one-digit I.Q.) He smirked at that thought and went to go dress Bulma in the clothes he'd donned for her.
The warm bath, he noticed, did a great deal in keeping the cut fairly clean. Her temperature had gone down a bit as well. Vegeta couldn't hold back a satisfied smirk at his own accomplishment. (If I continue to do such things as this I'll be able to demean the woman's intelligence!) He saved that idea for later, though, when she was better with that horrendous cut healed.
He took her downstairs to Goku in his arms, not paying attention to the knowing glint that crossed Goku's eyes. He mumbled a thank you for taking care of Bulma so well before pressing two fingers to his forehead and disappearing.
Vegeta couldn't hold back a yell of joy as he could finally get back to his training instead of watching the weak, ill female.
First, though, he had to eat something. His stomach told him so. Thanks to the practice he got earlier lunch was fairly easy fro him, though it DID take a rather large portion of time. Most especially considering he kept eating the food before it made it's way to the table.
Training as well was easy. He upped the gravity, throwing his ki balls around, and dodging them without the slightest effort. He was pleased with the way the day turned out. (Today wasn't so horrific after all.)
~*~*~
Goku appeared at his own house first. The first thing Chichi saw was a limp Bulma looking extremely ill in Goku's arms. She shrieked and ran over to her, asking mumbled questions as to what had happened.
Goku gave what information he had and asked Chichi to take her to a hospital. Of course, he couldn't just Instant Transmission there; people would freak! Chcihi nodded her agreement and mumbled something about not telling Gohan and keep all green, sharp-toothed monsters from their home before grabbing a capsule and leaving with the sick heiress.
Goku smiled slightly, knowing fair well and good that Bulma was going to be fine and that - most importantly - Vegeta and Bulma were sure to get together soon enough. He didn't listen to Chichi, of course, but told Gohan very little.
"Bulma's just a little sick right now."
Gohan's eyes went wide. "Well . . . She's gonna be alright, right?"
"She'll be fine. Now go play with Piccolo or something, and don't tell your mother."
"Don't tell her what? That I'm gonna go practice with Piccolo?"
"That, and about Bulma." He winked at his son. "I wasn't supposed to tell you. That also means don't ask her questions, Gohan."
"Ok, Daddy." With that Gohan was out the door calling for Piccolo as Goku merely sat and thought. (When are those two going to get together? I can't just sit and wait forever! Why are they taking it so slow?!) He frowned, briefly wondering if that boy from the future was notioning to Goku that he should give them a shove towards one another. Had he done it in Trunks' time? Does that mean he should do it again? Goku slapped his own forehead.
And this, people, is why Goku never seems to think. He comes up with too many unanswerable questions and gives himself a headache.
[A/N: Because this story is so popular, I've decided to put this note here. I promise that I will update every day on at least one of my stories with two exceptions:
I have no access to a computer that day.
I have some serious writer's block.
The only other possibility is if I'm sick, which has never kept me from writing or drawing before, so scratch that. And please, please please please, review!]
A/N: Anyone who has an idea is welcome to leave it in a review or e-mail it to me. Who knows, I might end up using it! After all, writing cliffhanger after cliffhanger isn't easy, especially considering I have to write a 'Reader Catcher' at the beginning of each new chapter! Even for me, that isn't easy! I'm running out of friggin' ideas here! * Sobs *
Third Person POV
Last time:
He very nearly killed himself for his thinking and actions earlier. That is, until he heard . . .
"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
He rushed back upstairs to the Onna without even thinking first . . .
Continuing on - yet AGAIN [This is getting old fast]:
When Vegeta found her she was clutching her injured thigh like it was on fire. "What's wrong?" he asked, a little too urgently for his liking.
Bulma looked at him, tears down her face, and said - rather, cried - "It feels terrible! I swear it's getting worse!"
She looked at her cut, which was now the living image of everything unhealthy. The way she was holding the cut caused yellow ooze to slip out, looking for all the world like the puss from a zit.
Vegeta was at her side in an instant, looking over the cut that was causing her so much pain. "Fuck!" he cursed and started wiping away the ooze with his 'sacred' bandana. Bulma screamed in agony at each touch, but kept holding herself back, knowing that this had to be done.
Without meaning to, and with regrets, Vegeta squeezed the cut to get out any other yellow puss. Bulma put her hand over her mouth that time and started twitching, screaming louder and crying into her hand, which Vegeta was rather thankful for. After all, if she continued to scream as loud as she was without muffling it somehow, she wouldn't be the only one bleeding.
She pulled a pillow from under her and pressed it to her face, trying still to be motionless. It didn't work though, as the pain kept her leg jerking away from the cause of the pain - i.e., Vegeta's hands - as trying to end it. She kept hearing him swear and order her to quit moving, but by now she couldn't help it. And how she was going to get out of this one, she had no idea.
Eventually her body gave, not wanting to feel the pain any longer, and she passed out, much to the relief of a certain Saiyan Prince.
This made it easier to clean and he kept up the squeeze - clean method until plain blood came from the cut - like it was supposed to in the first place.
Once that was done Vegeta had only one other idea, and it required stripping Bulma of her clothes again. He sighed mentally and did it, putting her again in a bath - this one, though, was warm, as to help the cut stay clean.
He went downstairs next and let her rest, sitting down on the couch and wondering what the next course of action would be. Luckily for him Goku had been scheduled to come by and spar with him.
Unfortunately, that was at 2:00, and it was only noon. However, he smirked, there * were * other ways of getting him here. He stood up and flared his ki, letting Goku especially know he was required.
Sure enough, Goku was there in thirty seconds flat. (Probably had to answer to that Harpy of a mate) he thought.
"Hey, Vegeta, what's going on?" Goku looked around a bit and noticed he had Transmissioned himself into the living room in Bulma's house.
"The woman has gotten severely ill. I can't help her anymore, so I require you to take her to one of those - "
"Bulma's sick?!" he yelled. Without giving Vegeta a chance to answer he ran upstairs to her room. He tried his best not to burst through the door, but in his concerned panic her nearly busted it down.
"Bulma?!" he said as he walked around the room. "Bulma?" he said, this time more calmly.
Vegeta was right behind him. "I had her take a bath." He tapped Goku on the shoulder and pointed to her bathroom. Goku hesitated, not wanting to see anything he shouldn't.
"Kakarot, listen to me." Goku turned around, concern still lacing his eyes. "She has a cut on her thigh, I don't know quite how she got it, but it got infected and needs treatment." He left out the part about bathing her and their kiss. "I have no idea where to go to find someone who * could * aid her, so that's where you come in."
"Someone to aid her?" he repeated, and thought over it a moment. "You mean a hospital?"
Vegeta nodded, remembering the name only just now.
Goku gave him a 'stupid' look. "I can't take her there naked, Vegeta."
Vegeta shrugged and walked over to her dresser, opening drawers and tossing one thing after another onto her bed. Once finished he left, saying only, "Then I guess you should get her dressed."
He heard Goku panic, doing that funny mini-gasping thing he did when he panicked. "Vegeta!" he whined. "I can't just . . .It's wrong, I can't . . . I'm not . . . I'm not going to dress her!" he finally said, bolting from the room and leaning against the wall next to her door, panting.
Vegeta was rather amused by this, however. He had his trademark smirk on, with one raised eyebrow, looking Goku up and down as though wondering if he was a man or not. "And why won't you?"
"She's my friend! I can't just * do * something like that! I can't!" He shook his head for extra emphasis. Then he mentally smiled, remembering the boy from the future. (Is this how they got together?) he wondered. He stood up straight, his panicked look gone from his face and replaced with a calmer one, and said, "Why don't you go dress her? You've obviously got no problem with it."
Vegeta was about to say something when Goku started to leave. "I'll be downstairs; let me know when to come get her."
Vegeta sputtered at him. (It sounds like he's trying to set us up!) He calmed himself down, though. (Relax. This is Kakarot we're talking about. He can't come up with a scheme unless his life depends on it in battle. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a one-digit I.Q.) He smirked at that thought and went to go dress Bulma in the clothes he'd donned for her.
The warm bath, he noticed, did a great deal in keeping the cut fairly clean. Her temperature had gone down a bit as well. Vegeta couldn't hold back a satisfied smirk at his own accomplishment. (If I continue to do such things as this I'll be able to demean the woman's intelligence!) He saved that idea for later, though, when she was better with that horrendous cut healed.
He took her downstairs to Goku in his arms, not paying attention to the knowing glint that crossed Goku's eyes. He mumbled a thank you for taking care of Bulma so well before pressing two fingers to his forehead and disappearing.
Vegeta couldn't hold back a yell of joy as he could finally get back to his training instead of watching the weak, ill female.
First, though, he had to eat something. His stomach told him so. Thanks to the practice he got earlier lunch was fairly easy fro him, though it DID take a rather large portion of time. Most especially considering he kept eating the food before it made it's way to the table.
Training as well was easy. He upped the gravity, throwing his ki balls around, and dodging them without the slightest effort. He was pleased with the way the day turned out. (Today wasn't so horrific after all.)
~*~*~
Goku appeared at his own house first. The first thing Chichi saw was a limp Bulma looking extremely ill in Goku's arms. She shrieked and ran over to her, asking mumbled questions as to what had happened.
Goku gave what information he had and asked Chichi to take her to a hospital. Of course, he couldn't just Instant Transmission there; people would freak! Chcihi nodded her agreement and mumbled something about not telling Gohan and keep all green, sharp-toothed monsters from their home before grabbing a capsule and leaving with the sick heiress.
Goku smiled slightly, knowing fair well and good that Bulma was going to be fine and that - most importantly - Vegeta and Bulma were sure to get together soon enough. He didn't listen to Chichi, of course, but told Gohan very little.
"Bulma's just a little sick right now."
Gohan's eyes went wide. "Well . . . She's gonna be alright, right?"
"She'll be fine. Now go play with Piccolo or something, and don't tell your mother."
"Don't tell her what? That I'm gonna go practice with Piccolo?"
"That, and about Bulma." He winked at his son. "I wasn't supposed to tell you. That also means don't ask her questions, Gohan."
"Ok, Daddy." With that Gohan was out the door calling for Piccolo as Goku merely sat and thought. (When are those two going to get together? I can't just sit and wait forever! Why are they taking it so slow?!) He frowned, briefly wondering if that boy from the future was notioning to Goku that he should give them a shove towards one another. Had he done it in Trunks' time? Does that mean he should do it again? Goku slapped his own forehead.
And this, people, is why Goku never seems to think. He comes up with too many unanswerable questions and gives himself a headache.
[A/N: Because this story is so popular, I've decided to put this note here. I promise that I will update every day on at least one of my stories with two exceptions:
I have no access to a computer that day.
I have some serious writer's block.
The only other possibility is if I'm sick, which has never kept me from writing or drawing before, so scratch that. And please, please please please, review!]