"You need it by when?"
Bulma nearly dropped her phone. Had she heard him right?
Distribution was known to call. In fact, their tenacity and deep-rooted love of deadlines was often the only thing that kept Bulma on track. But usually she saw it coming. Usually a project lingered on her desk for a little bit (or a lot) longer than it should have, and everytime she realized how badly she'd blown a deadline, she would shove it so far out of her mind that she pretended nothing was wrong. And usually–typically, sometimes–right as the impending deadline was hovering above her like a glinting guillotine in the sun, she somehow pulled through.
It wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it worked. At least, it worked until now. Distro was responsible for delivering products, and to do that they needed something more than a prototype. If Capsule Corp., had any intention of promoting this chip in a few short weeks, it was the Distribution Department's job to actually start making said chip.
Bulma figured she had time. That was the problem with blatantly ignoring deadlines: They always snuck right back up on you, often when it was already too late.
"You need the final product by the 14th?" She repeated into the receiver, making sure she had heard the caller right. Her eyes shot to a wall calendar that hung on a bland bulletin board above her desk. Today was the 2nd. "That's less than two weeks away."
"It is." A man's stern voice responded. "And we need at least a month to ramp up production. If we announce at our annual gala, orders will start coming in immediately, so we need some back stock."
"Right, right." Bulma scratched her head.
"I know you're the Chief Scientist and your dad is the CEO so I can't actually tell you what to do," the man tread lightly, "but if I were in your shoes, it would be extremely embarrassing to have no new product at the gala. Especially since this one has been rumored for a while."
He wasn't wrong. This type of technology was not novel, but having all of the commands in a single chip was. For years, automakers had complained about the costly nature of installing each and every safety feature, and ultimately it was the consumer who paid the price. Capsule Corp., was known for its ability to almost magically shrink things down to a scalable size. This chip was no different.
If anyone was going to master this tech, it was Capsule Corp.
"Okay, so 12 days." She bore a hole in the calendar with her eyes. "Got it."
"Not a day later." The man said.
"Nope, not a day later."
Bulma hung up the phone and sat at her desk in defeat. Twelve days was not enough time. Testing alone could take up to a week, not to mention all the time tweaking and retesting. She unfurled the blueprints for the chip, staring as if summoning them to come alive. She was so entranced in her work that she didn't hear the clacking of boots across the cement floor.
Only when a hunk of flying metal landed at her feet did she look up.
"This is broken." Vegeta. She clenched her jaw. Why was it that whenever she was having a crisis of her own, his smug face seemed to pop up and pile on?
"Yes it is." She looked down at the mangled robot. Steel plates were dented in every direction and the spindles of loose wire hanging out the side started to spark. God, not her drones. Not again.
"I demand they be fixed."
Vegeta's brow was set deep. Something was bothering him more than usually lately, and he was taking his frustrations out on her equipment. Ungrateful piece of sh–
"I demand they be fixed." His tongue rolled across the last word, elongating every single letter. She fought the urge to reach up and punch him.
"I don't have time," she hissed. She turned her chair back toward her desk and began examining her blueprints again. He grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it out. Slowly, he leaned down and placed his mouth right next to her ear, so close that the feel of his breath on her skin made her feel light headed.
"I suggest you make time," he growled. He flicked his wrist and spun the chair so the two were now facing, his hands braced on the arm rests. He leaned into her and her eyes went wide. In her chest, her heart was pounding, racing as if she was being stalked by a wild animal. Blood rushed to her face and she tried to determine whether she liked having him this close or whether she feared for her life.
Then, something ebbed in the moment between them. He wasn't going to hurt her. He wasn't stupid enough to bite the hand that fed him. This was all part of his little game, the one where he liked to pretend that he was some sort of bloodthirsty villain and not some misunderstood man with daddy issues. All of it was a show, an attempt to mask his insecurity of being homeless and basically destitute. Bulma knew deep, deep down that he would never lay a hand on her.
She wasn't afraid of him.
"No." She leaned back into her chair and smiled, letting the shock ripple across his face. He snapped straight up, crossed his arms and scowled.
"What do you mean no?!"
She laughed. "I mean no." If she didn't know any better, she half expected steam to pour out of his ears.
"Do you realize that the fate of the world is in the balance here?" His tone was equal parts condescending and desperation. He felt superior but he also felt indebted to her. "If I don't get these drones, then the androids wi–"
"And if I don't sell this chip," she interrupted, standing to meet his gaze and shoving a finger into his chest. "You won't have this grand home and impeccable hospitality to mooch off of anymore, Vegeta. We still have two years until the androids come, okay? I have two weeks to get this chip out the door so I can pay for your exorbitant grocery bills."
Vegeta scoffed. Bulma's smile grew even larger. He was speechless.
"So, if you'll excuse me, I will be working on this now." She gestured to her desk before rolling one of the broken drones with one of her feet. "Don't bother me again."
For some reason, anger always made Vegeta hungry.
Yes, he was an emotional eater. He stood in front of the fridge, frantically trying to pile on as much food as he possibly could. Cold cuts and cheese, a jar of kimchi, an entire rotisserie chicken that Vegeta was pretty sure Panchy was using for dinner. Oh well, he thought as he tossed the cooked bird on the counter behind him, she'll just have to make something else.
He took a seat and immediately tore into a container of cold miso soup, slurping up the broth like he had possibly been dying of hunger. Each bite diluted his seething rage.
First, and probably most importantly, he had to calm himself down from his impulse to fuck her. Sitting in that chair, having her so close he could smell the saltiness of her sweat, it drove him absolutely mad. The move was meant to be intimidating, but all it did was make Vegeta ache with a twisting pleasure. Ever since that dream, thoughts of her naked were dispersed between thoughts of murdering her with his bare hands. Slowly, the pleasurable thoughts ramped up in frequency and it scared Vegeta as to how much he liked them.
Then she had the audacity to point her finger in his chest and tell him no, despite knowing full and well the consequences of Vegeta not getting stronger. She was positively awful. How selfish of her to put her business above the safety and security of the Earth. There wasn't going to be a Capsule Corp., to come back to if the androids had their way.
He hated her so, so much, so why couldn't he stop imagining himself running his tongue from her sternum all the way to her navel?
"Vegeta, hello!" Dr. Briefs popped into the kitchen, a cloud of smoke swirling around him as he did. Vegeta jolted in his seat and flushed red, moving his head so close to his bowl his nose was practically in the broth. Dr. Briefs merrily poured himself a cup of coffee before watching Vegeta devour his feast. "Hungry, eh?"
"Save it, old man," Vegeta mumbled through a mouthful of noodles–his second course for the afternoon.
"Is a bee in your bonnet today, Vegeta?" The old man had a lot of sayings like this that Vegeta did not understand. It shocked the Saiyan that someone so completely idiotic could be a pillar in the scientific community.
"There are no bees inside," Vegeta retorted as he ripped off a chicken leg.
"It's an expression." Dr. Brief's clarified. Vegeta stared at him while he chewed. The doctor cleared his throat. "It means that something is bothering you."
"I am unbothered."
Dr. Briefs laughed to himself. Vegeta was not what he would call an emotionally forthright person, but he had his tells. Insatiable hunger was one of them. He figured it out over the months Vegeta had lived with the family. After every setback and disappointment, he ran straight to the fridge.
"Son, might I offer you a bit of advice?" Dr. Briefs felt a sort of kinship toward Vegeta. He had always strived to be the best in his field, pushing himself to do incredible things (at least, he thought so) despite all odds. Vegeta was just trying to stake his claim in the world, too. If he was in here sulking instead of training for the big battle, Dr. Briefs figured this sour mood must have something to do with his slow progress.
When Vegeta didn't respond, Dr. Briefs started all on his own.
"You see, training is a lot like science. The way you engage a problem is equally as important as the outcome. Scientific theory is such a fickle thing–you think you know how something will turn out only to find out your theory was wrong. So you keep learning and trying until you get things right."
Vegeta side-eyed Dr. Briefs. What was he prattling on about?
"If you're not getting where you think you need to be in your training, why don't you try something new? Develop a new hypothesis, so to speak."
Dr. Briefs studied Vegeta's blank expression. Was he not understanding, or was he too proud to say thank you? It did appear Vegeta's knowledge of science was fairly limited. Perhaps changing the analogy would help.
"Let me put it this way," Dr. Briefs awkwardly started again, much to Vegeta's chagrin. He just wanted the man to shut up. "When you're fighting in a war, it's a series of battles that lead up to an ultimate victory, right? Well, think of your training like battles. Each one will not be won, but if you learn overtime you can adjust your strategy to become the victor."
Adjust the strategy. While the doctor incorrectly assumed the Saiyan was struggling with training–not currently engaged in an impasse with his bull-headed daughter–his advice was not entirely useless. He wanted his drones fixed. He had been shot down. He had to change the strategy, to think of Bulma not as a barely tolerable roommate, he had to think of her as the enemy.
Maybe readjusting his perspective would not only get him his drones, but it would make Bulma hate him so much in return that the explicit thoughts would cease as well. That would be ideal, he thought. He didn't need her as a distraction. Breaking her illustrious spell on him required drastic measures.
"Interesting," Vegeta pondered, ignoring the look of pride beaming from Dr. Briefs. "So this scientific hypothesis, you say. How do you know when to change the criteria?"
Dr. Briefs rubbed his chin. "Well, you gather what you know, make an assessment of what your initial evidence is telling you and then you make a hypothesis from that."
"And then what?"
"Well," Dr. Briefs said. "You set a criteria to determine whether or not your experiment is successful."
It made perfect sense. He'd been going about this thing with Bulma entirely wrong. Asking her to help him was not working, nor was demanding it. He needed a new tactic. In the art of war, men are meant to make evaluations of whether or not to engage, and if they will, how far they are willing to go. He needed to train, and he needed to do it the way he wanted to do it. Getting Bulma to pull off her project meant doing something drastic, but if all went according to plan…
"Thank you for this insight, Dr. Briefs," Vegeta said politely, probably for the first time in his life. "This has been very helpful."
Dr. Briefs triumphantly sipped his coffee and spun out of the room. As he inched closer to the laboratory, he thought to himself how exciting it would be to tell Bulma about his breakthrough with the Saiyan prince.
