The Popstar

by froglady15

When military soldier Vegeta finds himself on extended medical leave for an injury, an old friend asks him to take over his job as a personal bodyguard for popstar Bulma Briefs after a frightening incident in which she was kidnapped by an over obsessed fan. Can Vegeta keep her safe? Who is this obsessed fan, or was it all a ploy to boost record sales? Something fun, light & fluffy.

15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long between updates. It had been my plan to have this story completed by the end of the year, but life happens. I have most of this story nearly completed, so hopefully things will move quickly.

Many thanks to Dragonbabezee for betaing this chapter for me.

The Popstar

Chapter 15

The next morning, Vegeta got up early and decided to take Justice for a long walk on the compound. The amount of press and paparazzi standing outside the compound to greet him and bombard him with questions astounded him.

"Where are you from?" someone shouted.

"How long have you and Bulma Briefs been dating?"

"Is Bulma pregnant? Is that why she fainted?"

The shouting of numerous questions and sound of cameras clicking and the flashing immediately threw him into a state of anxiety and he stood outside the entrance of her home for a long moment, literally feeling like a deer in the headlights before he mentally shook himself and looked down at Justice, who was alert, but seemed unbothered by all of the commotion.

He gathered his bearings and stayed close to the house, walking with Justice around the compound, looking at the ground and ignoring the multitude of questions about Bulma and inquiries about himself being thrown at him. It was all jumbled noise anyway.

They followed him around the compound like a swarm of insects. He did not look at them, acknowledge them or react to anything they said. Was this what it was like for her on a daily basis? So far, since he'd been working for her, the only time the paparazzi had been an issue was when they were away from her home; arriving somewhere for her to shoot a video or rehearse for something or at the airport. He knew they occasionally camped outside of her home, as there were tabloid photos of them that would be printed when they would go out on a walk together or hang out in her hot tub, but never had he seen a crowd of them gathered outside of her home like this!

Vegeta ignored the mob of tabloid reporters and paparazzi photographers and opted to settle on tossing a ball for Justice in the tennis courts. It was something to clear his mind with the mindless repetitive movement, let go of frustration by tossing the ball as hard as he could and his dog was contained, so he did not need to worry about anything bad happening.

Despite his indifference, the photographers and reporters did not let up.

They lined the perimeter of the tennis court and continued to shout questions at him and took hundreds of photos of him doing nothing more than tossing a ball for his dog across the court, his dog leaping over the net, retrieving the ball and sailing over the net to bring the ball back to him to do it again. Some of them put their fingers through the chain link of the court and made kissing noises whenever the ball would land near the fence, in an effort to entice Justice to engage with them, but the Shepherd ignored them. All he cared about was his ball.

Vegeta decided to call it a day when a few of them started successfully sliding their hands through the chain link in efforts to grab the ball. Justice was not an aggressive resource guarder by nature, but he was ball driven enough that he was worried someone may get accidentally nipped by him simply grabbing the ball out of their hand, and that he did not want to risk. He himself got nipped when he did not present the ball properly or he was not fast enough. It was the nature and risk of the game when one played with a high drive dog. He was acutely aware of that and decided it was time to go back to Bulma's apartment before something happened.

He continued to ignore them all on his walk back to the apartment…

"How long is Miss. Briefs planning on taking a break for?"

"Are you two engaged?"

"Why won't you talk to anyone?"

"Can you comment on the mental state of Miss. Briefs during your performance at the charity event?"

"When is she checking into rehab?"

"What was your job title before you became Miss. Briefs' bodyguard?"

"Were you previously in law enforcement or military?"

When he returned to the apartment, he brought in the newspaper and welcomed the silence, peace and quiet.

He made a light breakfast for himself and then decided to workout; he'd make something more substantial later on when Bulma was up.

Bulma awoke late morning and helped herself to some coffee. She took a seat on one of the bar stools at the island and began flipping through the newspaper as she enjoyed her coffee. Of course, she was the main headline in the entertainment section. Featured was a very unflattering picture of herself looking beyond exhausted and in the inset was a smaller photo of Vegeta carrying her into the hospital when she'd fainted at the rehearsal and at the bottom of the page, one of them performing together at the charity event.

The headline was Bulma Briefs Goes on Hiatus After Breakdown.

Bulma began to read the article.

It would seem that the personal problems for world renowned Popstar, Bulma Briefs, aren't going away any time soon. The singer, age 28, put out a statement just yesterday stating that she was taking an indefinite hiatus to look after her health:

"It is with great difficulty that I have decided that I need to take a break from my hectic schedule and take care of myself for a little while," the statement started. Earlier on this week, Briefs collapsed on stage during a rehearsal for a live, televised charity event that was held the other night. She was rushed to the hospital, where she was allegedly treated for exhaustion and dehydration, though there has been much speculation that there is more to the story. A source for the singer confirmed that she will be checking into rehab and undergoing psychiatric evaluation, presumably related to post traumatic stress disorder, surrounding her much publicized abduction nine months ago. It has also been rumoured that she has been coping with the ordeal through excessive alcohol consumption, prescription medication and sleeping pills- a potentially deadly concoction. Close friends and family members are deeply concerned for the singer's wellbeing.

The surprising hiatus announcement was made hot on the heels of her controversial performance at the live charity show with bodyguard and rumoured boyfriend, Vegeta Prince (age currently unknown), prompting rumours that the singer was inebriated during the performance. Many have speculated that a romance has been going on between the two for some time now. The romance still has yet to be officially confirmed by either party, but the racy and somewhat shocking performance the two put on two nights ago would indicate it is so.

The statement continues: "My sincere and deepest apologies for any upset my performance brought to the charity organization and viewers. I have not been thinking or functioning at my best since my ordeal. Therefore I feel the best thing for me at the moment is to focus on getting the help I need."

"That son of a bitch!" Bulma exclaimed, as she continued to read the article.

"What now?" Vegeta asked, coming out of his room, freshly showered after his workout.

"Yamcha changed my statement!" she said. "He added in an apology for the performance when I specifically told him not to! You were here for that!" She got up and went to her room and came back with her phone a moment later.

"What are you doing?" Vegeta asked, though he already had a feeling he knew what she was doing.

"Calling up that sorry son of a bitch to ask him why he did that, and then I'm firing his ass!" Vegeta smirked as he went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "Are you certain you want to do that?"

Bulma glared at him. "Are you serious? This isn't the first time he's done something like this behind my back when I specifically told him I didn't want to comment on something! Not to mention you're truly the last person I would have thought would ask me that."

"I have no qualms with you getting rid of the moron, but are you sure you want to do something so drastic now?" He asked.

"Yumm, ya," she said. "I told him that I was standing behind my performance and he still did this. Also, they think that I'm in rehab!"

"Rehab for what?"

"It doesn't say other than I'm apparently dealing with the trauma of my abduction through alcohol and sleeping pills and I'm being treated for exhaustion and dehydration," she said. "But everyone will assume it's drugs and alcohol! That's always what that means! That's what dehydration and exhaustion usually means too! Except in my case, it's true!"

"I can see why you are angry, but maybe think on it before doing anything final. Find someone else that you will be able to work with and who will listen to you, while you are off. You have lots of time to do that and in the meantime you will not be burning any bridges."

"You want the job?" she asked.

"Fuck, no!" he scoffed. "I have enough on my plate keeping an eye on you and your security detail wherever we go and I would likely be a horrible manager in your field."

She laughed. "Actually, you're right. You would be. No offence."

"None taken."

She put her phone back on the countertop and went back to her coffee. "I'm not surprised, but I'd have thought he'd respect my wishes on this. It's none of anyone's business, but even if it was, I'm not checking into rehab, nor do I need to! I just need some rest and want to be left alone."

"What are your plans for today? How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. I have no real plans," she said. "The weather seems to be beautiful. So I might go visit my mom for a bit and then get my tan on and just take it easy. You can take the day for yourself if you want to get out of here and do Vegeta things."

He thought about it, but he didn't have any plans. He still didn't know where many things in the area were, as Bulma rarely went out when she wasn't working. She chose to order in and stay home on her down time, not that he blamed her. After his encounter with all of the reporters and paparazzi that morning, he didn't understand how she dealt with all that attention.

"Or we could just hang out together here, get day drunk and chill," she suggested, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

He gave her a look. "I will hang out and chill with you, but I will pass on getting day drunk and so should you."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "You're impossible. Even when you're not on duty."

"It is not even noon yet," he pointed out. "And you wonder why the press thinks you have an alcohol problem."

"I don't!" she objected, deeply insulted by that. "I just… really like wine and that's why they call it day drinking."

Vegeta shook his head. She was going to do whatever she wanted to do, regardless of his opinion anyway.

Bulma looked around and noticed Justice laying on the floor by her patio door where the sun was shining in. Still annoyed with the newspaper article, an idea formed in her mind. She may not have control over what Yamcha or the label put in her supposedly official statement, but she did have control over her own social media. She quickly ran her hands through her hair and tossed it up into a cute, loose bun on the top of her head before sitting next to him. "Can I post a selfie with Justice on my social media?"

Vegeta sighed as he thought about it. At this point, what did it matter? He'd already been on the cover of a prominent fashion magazine and had been photographed multiple times with them together out and about on the compound. He assumed they'd taken hundreds of him this morning. What was one more photo of him on Bulma's social media going to harm? Everyone in the military knew now that he had Justice, unless they had been living under a rock all of this time, which could be possible. When he was on a mission, he did not keep up with the news; especially not anything related to the entertainment industry. "It is fine." He decided.

Bulma leaned back into Justice, angling her phone so as to get the perfect photo of her with her coffee and him. After taking several, she stayed on the floor with him for several minutes as she cropped and posted it along with a message. Satisfied, she stood up and came back to the kitchen and slid her phone across the counter top for Vegeta to see what she'd done.

It was a nice, unedited selfie of her and Justice with the caption:

Enjoying my morning with this guy having a coffee and a good laugh over some of the recent news articles out there. Couldn't y'all's find some actual flattering pictures of me to use if you're going to gossip?!

Also, to my fans- don't believe all the hype out there- I'm fine! I'm not in rehab, I'm not pregnant and I'm not quitting forever, I just need a little bit of ME TIME. I also had a FANTASTIC time performing for you all- no regrets! Until next time…XOXO #nofilter #dogsnuggles #dontbelieveeverythingyouread #cantstopwontstop #notsorry #noregrets #selfcare

He grunted once he'd finished reading it and slid her phone back to her. "I may leave to get some food."

"Okay," she smiled. "You do that. Don't hurry back, and I'll get dressed and I thought I'd go see my mum for a little bit. I might be a while, since I haven't seen her in a while."

"There were a ton of reporters out this morning as well, so be careful," he warned her.

"Were they really bad?"

"They followed me all around the compound and lingered while I played with Justice until I came back here."

"Sounds about right," she nodded. "Did you talk to them?"

"No," he snorted.

"You can always ask them to leave, you know," she told him. "Sometimes they do back off."

Vegeta just shook his head. He was still annoyed by all of it. "Take the dog with you to your mother's," he said as he grabbed his wallet and her car keys.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, but I'll bring him," she agreed.

They went their separate ways and Bulma went with Justice to where her parents lived on the compound grounds. Vegeta had been correct, there was a crowd of paparazzi surrounding the compound.

"How are you feeling?"

"When are you checking into rehab?"

She sighed and debated a moment whether she should talk to them for a moment and let them take some photos, or just ignore them? She decided to humor them briefly. Typically that made them leave.

"I'm feeling great today, thanks, guys." She said cheerfully, approaching the street where they were clamouring to see her.

"What are you doing now?"

"Going to visit my mom,"

"When are you checking yourself in?" Someone asked again.

"I'm not discussing that today," she answered. "If you really want to know though, go camp outside Yamcha's place. He'll give you the scoop!"

"Yamcha's not as pretty!" a photographer chimed in.

"I'll make a deal with you guys," she said. "I'll let you take some photos and you leave me alone for the day, hey? Also, my bodyguard is going out to get some food. Please don't harass and follow him when he's out and about or just walking his dog. He's off limits."

"Will you give us some photos of you two together?" someone asked. "Then we'll leave!"

She shook her head. "Nope, sorry. You're stuck with just little old me."

Bulma stood and smiled and answered a few benign questions for a few minutes before continuing on her way to her parent's side of the compound. She was about to knock on the door when she noticed her mother watering her plants on the patio. "Want some company?"

"Well sure, sweetie! I'm almost done, but I'm about ready for a cocktail," her mother greeted her.

"You're off, correct?"

"For a few months, yea," Bulma nodded.

"Oh good! You need it. Where's Vegeta?"

"He just left to go pick up some food," she said.

"How nice of him!" Mrs. Briefs gushed. "He's such a nice man. Come, let's go in and make ourselves something fun to drink on this beautiful day."

They fixed themselves some sangria and settled on the patio with some snacks to enjoy the nice weather. It seemed that Bulma briefly humouring the reporters for a few minutes had prompted them to leave. Hopefully they weren't following Vegeta.

"I'm so glad you stopped by," her mother said. "Your father and I were so worried when Vegeta called and let us know you were in the hospital the other day. You look well."

Bulma smiled. "He mentioned that he let you know so you wouldn't find out from the news."

"And we so appreciated that. Which, I know it's none of my business, but what's the scoop between you two? We saw your performance for the charity show and my, what a show it was."

"I don't know what the scoop is, truthfully," she answered, not embarrassed that her parents had seen the show. They were used to her racy performances by now. "Vegeta's very… professional. Until he's not working for me, there's likely no chance of anything happening romantically between us. He says it's a conflict of interest."

"Hmm, well he isn't wrong, but you're off for a little while now," her mother noted. "Maybe some time off is what you both need."

"That's kind of what I was hoping for."

"How long are you not working for?"

"Four months," she replied and slowly inhaled and held her breath a moment, fully knowing the way this conversation was going to go.

"That's a nice break for you," her mother said. "It would be nice if you would take some time and spend it with your father. I know he would love that."

"I will."

"You should see about going back to school maybe?" she said cautiously.

"We'll see," Bulma said shortly. "I'm off to take time for myself, not throw myself into something else."

"I realize that, dear, but maybe it's a good time for you to re-evaluate your career choices."

"Maybe," she sighed, instantly annoyed. "I'll think about it."

"Well especially in your industry. You'll only be pretty for so long and then what?" her mother exclaimed. "That industry of yours isn't kind once you're not in your prime of youth anymore. You'd be smart to at least start thinking about getting the ball rolling instead of waiting until there's no more work for you."

"Yes, Mom, I know!" she snipped at her. "It's not like I'm sixty and strutting around on stage half naked, twerking with a bunch of twenty year old backup dancers."

"Of course not, dear, but you're almost thirty and therefore half way there. Believe me, time flies!" she said. "I am just saying. Not trying to be unkind, but you need to start thinking about what to do when you're finished."

-0-0-0-

In the meantime, Vegeta was sitting in the car, deep in thought before venturing into the supermarket; he had not thought things through before leaving Bulma's place. He debated for a few minutes on what was a better strategic move- going in wearing his sunglasses so he would not be recognized or would wearing sunglasses draw more attention to himself?

He ultimately decided that not wearing sunglasses was the better option. The next time he would go out, he would wear a baseball cap.

Quickly he walked into the store, looking down and deliberately not making eye contact with anyone he walked past. It wasn't until he'd reached the meat department, choosing steaks, that he overheard a few people nearby whispering. Immediately he felt his ears beginning to burn and he bravely took a chance to look to his right.

There were four teenage girls standing there watching him with their phones out, whispering and giggling amongst themselves.

Fuck.

He wasn't sure what to do; he certainly didn't want to talk to them, so he quickly grabbed two steaks, tossed them into the basket and walked away as fast as he could without hopefully drawing further attention to himself.

The girls followed him from a distance, thankfully too shy to actually speak to him. He finished grabbing everything he'd needed and headed to the checkout line.

Of course, the line was long. There were only two checkouts open. Vegeta mentally cursed himself and actually considered leaving his basket on the floor and leaving; they could order something in. However, not only was he trying to ensure Bulma was eating well while she was off, but he was sick of delivery takeout and fast food.

As he stood, he noticed the wall of tabloid magazines lining the checkout stations. His jaw nearly dropped along with his stomach. They both were on nearly every cover.

One magazine had a photo of him carrying her into the hospital and in bold, yellow captions it read MISCARRIAGE! across the front.

It would seem that Bulma's collapse and hospitalization had reignited the pregnancy rumours.

Another one read Collapsed! Bulma Briefs rushed to rehab as pregnant and malnourished star plummets to alarming 80lbs!

There were magazines with Lapis on the cover as well, claiming Bulma had been unfaithful to him.

Lapis and Bulma- It's Over!

Lapis Dumped For Bodyguard!

Some had photos of all three of them on the cover citing infidelity or a salacious love triangle and insinuating fights between Lapis and Vegeta over the Popstar. One such magazine was questioning which man had fathered her supposed unborn child.

Bulma Briefs' Wild Life: Drugs! Binge Drinking! Cheating! Pregnancy! Lapis' Final Ultimatum!

And then there were the magazines with photos from the performance of them looking very… amorous. Among those ones were engagement and more pregnancy rumours.

If he would have known that performing with her would make him a spectacle everywhere he went, he would not have done it. It had not even occurred to him and he could feel the resentment building up. Not towards her personally, she hadn't done anything. But he did not like this. The headlines alone made him feel ill. Speculation on miscarriages? He knew that was completely untrue, but what if it wasn't? What if something awful like that had happened to her? And these people were making money off of her misery? It absolutely dumbfounded him and made him angry.

He took out his phone, discreetly took a photo of the wall of tabloids and texted it to Bulma.

Vegeta glanced behind his shoulder again and noticed that a few other women had gathered to gawk at him. He turned to face the line and moved up a space. He took his phone and made it so he could take a photo of himself, but angled it carefully so no one would notice. He took a photo of his shoulder and the group of about four women plus the teenagers standing behind him and sent that to Bulma as well.

Immediately, she responded with several laughing emoticons.

Congrats! Looks like you've got yourself a fan club! She replied.

He huffed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, wishing this blasted line would hurry along so he could get the hell out of there before anyone got the courage to speak to him. Ignoring reporters wasn't nearly as difficult.

It felt like an eternity, but finally it was his turn. He unloaded his items from his basket so the cashier could scan them.

"Oh my god," the cashier breathed. "I know you! You're the guy Bulma Briefs was on tv with!"

He awkwardly made eye contact with her and felt his neck growing warm. She was a pleasant looking, middle aged woman. However, he had no idea how to respond. He had not thought about what he would do in this situation. Up until recently, most people did not recognize him and when they did, it was usually because he was with Bulma. "Yes, I'd appreciate it if you kept that information to yourself,"

She looked at him in astonishment. "You're way more handsome in person," she said in awe, clearly taken with his presence. She reached out and grabbed a magazine from the nearby display. She didn't even look at which one she'd grabbed and slid it towards him. "Can I have your autograph?"

"No," he shook his head. "I am not a star, I am just an average person, working for someone who is."

"You work and live with Bulma Briefs!" she exclaimed. "That's a pretty big deal! Are you guys an item too?"

Vegeta shook his head in frustration. The sight of Bulma and himself locked in a provocative embrace on the cover of the magazine she'd thrust at him, cracked his composure. The headline read The Popstar and her Bodyguard- We have all the tea! "I… No… I don't know."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Is she still with Lapis?"

"No," he answered, pulling out his card to pay. "Look, I am in a hurry. I have nothing to say and am extremely uncomfortable." He could tell people in line were staring at him and he could feel his phone vibrating, presumably Bulma messaging him and making fun of his current predicament.

"Please," he said quietly, looking at her intently, fully prepared to walk out without any of his items if she did not hurry up.

The intense way he looked at her in desperation, combined with the low baritone of his voice seemed to move her. She blushed and nodded, quickly scanning the rest of his things, only taking a few quick glances at him as she went.

"Thank you," he said, swiping his card and not waiting for her to give him a receipt. He grabbed the bags and walked out as quickly as he could.

"Oh my god…" the cashier exhaled once he was gone.

"Was that him?" The next customer asked, still looking after him.

"It sure was!"

Vegeta made it back to the vehicle and took a deep breath. How could he have thought he could leave and run errands without causing a scene? He felt stupid. He pulled out his phone and Bulma had messaged him two screenshots from somewhere.

There were photos of him at the supermarket on the internet. One of which someone had zoomed into his ass wearing his black cargo pants and some lewd comment poking fun about his ass and him being discovered in the meat department. Why?! He thought in exasperation. Just because he knew someone famous, didn't mean he was important and it sure didn't mean he wanted the attention. And what the hell was so significant about him being at a supermarket that there were now photos circulating?

Order alcohol if you want it. I am not stepping foot into another store, he messaged her.

Fair enough, she replied and he knew she was probably having a good laugh over all of this at his expense.

"You survived!" Bulma greeted him cheerfully with a glass of whiskey on ice and taking some of the bags from him as soon as he entered the apartment.

He grunted.

"Was it really that bad?" she asked.

"I do not understand how you live with it," he said, as they both went into the kitchen. "Does it not drive you insane?"

"I'm so used to it, I don't let it bother me," she shrugged, helping him unpack and organize things for dinner.

"I grew up with the tabloids hounding my family. I'm an heiress and a socialite. My father's company draws a lot of attention on its own. Our whole family is a topic of interest, not just me," she explained, as she began peeling potatoes. "The stories surrounding my parents are absolutely ridiculous!"

"I would not know," he admitted.

"Well, both of my parents come from money and met in college," she said. "All of my father's side were engineers and successful inventors. My mother's side were involved in commercial real estate. They all ran in the same high society circles, so they kinda knew about one another, but didn't actually get to know each other until they were in college together.

"Around that time, my grandfather on my father's side had lost a lot of money on research and early development of capsule technology; a rival company started claiming that my grandfather was losing it, that it wasn't possible to achieve what he claimed he could. Investors pulled out. The company nearly went bankrupt. It was around the same time my parents had started seeing one another. So there are those who believe their marriage was arranged, that they married to save Capsule Corporation because of my mother's family and their money. By the same token, her family was involved in some shady business dealings that had gone south. In order to not lose all of their money in legal issues, they invested it in Capsule Corporation. It makes sense that people drew that conclusion, but it's not true. Just things happened to work out at the right time."

"Interesting,"Vegeta said. "Though I could see how some would believe that."

"Right?" She nodded. "So the tabloids are always on their case about cheating scandals, secret love children and other stupid things. They've backed off quite a lot over the last several years. I kind of took their place in terms of interest."

Vegeta chuckled darkly and wondered if he truly was up for all of this should they become a couple. He liked his privacy and didn't want his life to be an open book. Just going to the supermarket and gas station, he was horrified by some of the tabloids and he was shocked no one seemed to recognize him up until this point. It was surreal not only seeing himself on several magazine and newspaper covers but being followed and gawked at while shopping. He didn't like it.

He discreetly glanced at her as she worked in the kitchen. She was dressed comfortably and had no makeup on but for lipgloss and some mascara, her hair pulled up in a loose bun on top of her head. He found himself weighing his options again; would he be able to manage the stress of being with her? If it weren't for the paparazzi and her fame, undoubtedly, he knew he would not be second guessing himself. When it was just the two of them, alone, things were perfect. Despite today being a rude wake up call to reality, he was currently resisting the overwhelming urge to come up behind her and kiss the back of her neck.

Would she lean back into him and let him explore her neck with his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her waist or would she turn herself around in his arms and wrap those legs around his waist so he could carry her back to his bedroom and finally satiate his desires? If they did that, would it ruin the comfortable relationship they currently shared or would it enrich it?

What if he couldn't deal with all of the publicity that followed her constantly? Would he end up breaking her heart over it when he decided he'd had enough of the constant circus that followed her or would he gradually grow used to it like she was?

Bulma looked up then and caught his heated stare as he brooded. "You're thinking too hard," she teased him, feeling herself growing warm at the way he was looking at her.

"I have much to think about," he said, feeling his face grow warm that she'd caught him staring at her. He went back to what he'd been doing before he'd lost his thoughts in a fantasy he was having a difficult time turning into a reality.

"Like what?" she asked him, turning around and leaning alluringly against the counter top on her elbows. "Tell me what's on your mind."

My mouth on your neck and your legs wrapped around my waist, he wanted to say. "Everything," he said instead.

"I see," she nodded, looking at him in amusement. The banter they shared was one of her most favourite things. "I'm thinking about how nice it is to spend my time off with you."

He grunted in agreement, but did not say anything more.

"I'm thinking about the way you kissed me the other night and how much I'd like to do it again," she ventured.

"I was thinking about that as well," he admitted, his eyes darkened as he looked at her mouth. So tempting… just do it!

"Well, play your cards right and it'll happen again tonight," she winked at him. She wasn't going to make the first move, but she would definitely make it clear that she was open to whatever he had in mind.

"Maybe," he smirked at her and turned his attention back to cooking before he acted on his thoughts. That was becoming harder and harder to do.

They visited and both behaved as they made dinner and it was dark out by the time they'd finished eating.

"I'm going to hang in the hot tub for a bit, do you want to come?" she asked. "You don't have to though, if you don't want to."

"I could go for a soak," he admitted. He had over done it a little in the gym that morning. His muscles were sore and he could feel himself stiffening up. It had been a long time since he'd pushed himself that hard in the gym; not since before the explosion. He welcomed it. "You are not concerned about nosy photographers?"

"No," she shook her head. "So what? I mean it doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. I'm so used to it by this point, I barely notice."

"Let's do it," he said. "I suppose they cannot say anything worse about us than what they already have."

Bulma chuckled. "Oh, there's always worse. We could always give them a show though," she said, sticking her tongue out at him as she got up.

"They already had one," he said sourly.

They both went their separate ways to change.

Vegeta emerged from his suite first. He grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses and headed out onto the balcony. He scanned the area beyond the balcony, but couldn't see if there was anyone outside waiting around to spy on them; however it was dark out and so it would be difficult to see if someone was well hidden.

He sighed. He supposed that was unavoidable and a fact he would have to get used to, if today's events were any indication. Lapis had told him that.

"Is there anyone out there?" Bulma asked from behind him.

"Not from what I can tell," he said, turning away and facing her. She was wearing her housecoat and had also brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. "I suppose we will find out in a few days?"

"That's usually the drill. I'm sorry," she frowned and headed towards the hot tub, away from the balcony. They took off the cover together.

"Man it's hot in here tonight," she hissed, slowly immersing herself into the hot water.

Vegeta placed his phone and towel beside Bulma's housecoat on a chair within reaching distance of the tub and poured them both a glass of wine. He handed one to her and then stepped in and grunted in agreement, sitting next to her. It was extra hot and it felt good on his back and shoulders.

"How about you?" she asked once he seemed settled.

"What about me?"

"Any dark family secrets?" she asked. "I know I asked you that before, but you were really vague. I still don't know a lot about your upbringing."

"Nothing of interest and not much to tell," he shook his head. "My family has always been in the military on my father's side and I do not know a whole lot about my mother's side. I grew up moving all over the place and stayed with my father when they decided to split up. My mother passed away when I was around four or five; I barely remember her. I haven't seen or heard from my grandparents on her side since her funeral. I do not think they approved of my father, or at least that is the impression I am under. My father rarely speaks of my mother and never of his former in-laws."

Bulma sipped her wine thoughtfully. "So how exactly did you get involved with the dog stuff in the military?" she'd asked him once before too, but he hadn't really told her. "Isn't it, like, super specialized and they only let a handful of people do it?"

Vegeta normally did not enjoy talking about himself, however he was in a good mood and alright with indulging her curiosity for once. He'd had a few glasses of whiskey while making dinner for them and now he'd had a couple of glasses of wine. Combined with the hot water, he was feeling relaxed and open. His anxiety over the day seemingly forgotten.

"I found myself in some trouble in my early teenage years. A bunch of us kids on the base broke into someone's daddy's liquor cabinet, got drunk and caused some mischief at the base; typical bored, dumbass teenage stuff. Nothing serious. It did not go over well with my father and as my punishment, he had me working in the dog kennels feeding and cleaning up shit and piss. I was angry. No one else got into severe trouble, just a warning. But because of who my father is and he takes the family name and reputation very seriously, he insisted I earn my way back into his good graces. I was angry over the fact that I hadn't had a choice over staying with him or leaving with my mother as a child, although I suppose now looking back, it would not have mattered. I was not allowed to do anything else other than hang around the kennels when I was not in school or studying."

"So you started training?" Bulma asked eagerly.

"No, training is only done by professionals. I was just a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, and maintaining the kennels. Not very exciting. I hated it."

"Why?"

"Woman, those dogs are not pets. They are weapons. Half of them cannot be handled except by their handlers. So you try cleaning runs and feeding them while being barked and snarled at by at least twelve of them at five o'clock in the morning, knowing full well the only thing protecting you from them is a chain link fence. Or if you have to move one that is not so bad, they will still mess with you. They get off on people they view as being beneath them, being afraid of them."

"Justice isn't like that," Bulma shrugged.

"Oh he can be an asshole when he wants to be," Vegeta chuckled. "He's a Malinois, it's in him and he comes by it honestly.

"One day this dog was brought to the canine unit. His name was Tango," he said and Bulma noted the corner of his mouth turned up somewhat in a smile as he recalled the dog. "He was a wash-out from a police K9 unit. I was told to prepare one of the indoor/outdoor runs for him - the one at the very end of the facility. They parked a van outside near the run so they could just put him in and get out as quickly as possible. You could hear the dog barking up a storm from inside the vehicle. They opened the van and when I saw the crate I remember thinking to myself holy shit! The crazy asshole had chewed the entire top right hand corner off of the crate and another chunk off the top somehow. To this day, I don't know how he hadn't gotten out on the ride to the base.

"Now I'd been working at the kennels for about three months or so. A lot of those dogs were extremely high strung and intense, so it should not have been a surprise, but this dog was beyond what they'd typically call intense. I am still surprised that they did not just euthanize him. He was dangerous and a liability. I found out a few days after his arrival that he had turned on his handler during a drug raid and so that was why he was brought to us, for retraining and hopefully deployment. They seek out those dogs, the bad ones and the ones that live for the bite. In any case, it took three big guys to put the crate into the outdoor run, and even they were scared shitless of this dog. They opened the crate and I've never seen three big guys book it over a chain link fence so fast," he chuckled in recollection.

"No one got bit?" Bulma asked.

"Surprisingly, no. But I stood there and silently observed the dog along with everyone else. He went off at all of us on the other side. He was angry," Vegeta said. Bulma found it endearing how he told the story, as though it had just happened recently. "I remember he just charged the fence. There were about five or six of us standing there, including the guys who had carried the crate. The fence aggression wasn't anything new; almost all of the dogs did it. It was surprising when we had a dog who wasn't barrier-aggressive. But I could just see how angry and pissed off that dog was. He was not having a good time, just like I wasn't. He hated everyone, I hated everyone.

"That evening, after supper, I went back to the kennels. I'd brought some beef jerky from the vending machines and went to see how the dog was."

"How was he?" Bulma asked.

"Pacing the perimeter of the outdoor run obsessively. He hadn't touched his food or water. He was stressed. The only thing on his mind had been getting out. He lost his shit at me as I approached the fence. I knew enough at the time to not react one way or another to him, as it is highly rewarding to them if they feel they frightened you off. I stood there looking at him, which in retrospect was the worst thing I could have done. He barked and snarled at me, making this scary, guttural sound. His lips were pulled back and he was either spinning in circles or lunging at me through the fence, doing his best to get any sort of reaction from me. Conjure up the most vicious dog you've ever seen on tv and multiply that by about one hundred and that's what I saw. He wasn't fucking around."

"Did he take a treat from you?" Bulma smiled, anticipating a quick and happy turn around for this dog.

"Fuck, no!" Vegeta snorted. "He would have been more likely to have taken my arm from me if there had been no fence barrier between us." He stood up and showed her a scar on his forearm. "That is from him."

"Oh wow!" she exclaimed, looking at the scar on his arm. "That looks like it was bad."

Vegeta shrugged. "I was being stupid, he was letting me know," he said, sitting back down, but a little closer to her. "He was my first bite and it had happened months after he'd been with us. It took a few weeks before he would let anyone handle him or work with him. Every day though, I would leave a piece of jerky in his run."

"Did that help?"

"Probably not," Vegeta shook his head. "At that point, he just hated people. He hadn't had many good interactions with people in the training process, and biting people was more fun and more rewarding than doing what people asked him to do, even if food reward was offered. Eventually, after a lot of work, he learned that people can be fun without biting. He was an outstanding athlete. I learned a lot watching them work with him and it wasn't too long after his arrival until I became fascinated with it and began asking to assist with training. When I finally was able to enlist, I applied for the canine division. It took a few years before I was accepted, but I eventually was."

"So did they manage to fix him?"

"Yes and no," he answered. "He was never redeployed. He could not be entirely trusted. When under stress, he would redirect onto the handler, which you do not want if an explosion goes off randomly; but he was able to be sold off as a property surveillance dog somewhere where it does not really matter if he bites anyone."

"Did you ever hear how he did?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "You rarely do once they are retired or rehomed. That is why I am so insistent on keeping Justice with me for as long as I can."

"I get that," she nodded. "He's a good dog and there's a lot of sentiment there. He's more than just a pet. It would be hard to give him up to someone else."

"Either that or they would euthanize him," he said and she could tell the thought weighed heavily on him.

"Is that usually what happens?"

"A lot of the time, yes," he sighed. "The dogs can get PTSD the same as people, especially if something traumatic like what happened to Justice happens. So far I have not noticed anything off with him, but I also have not put him in a situation to test him.

"Before Justice, there was a dog I was supposed to take on deployment. He was to be my second after the German shepherd that retired. He was another wash-out from police work. That happens a lot. More than you'd think," he explained as Bulma topped up both their wine glasses.

"And this was before Justice?"

"Yes, a year or so before. He was around two years of age, and was sold to the police. He came from outstanding working lines, and to this day, one of the most talented dogs I've ever had the privilege of working with. He was hit by a car his first day at the police canine training facility when he was just a small puppy. It was at night time - a bathroom break before bedtime when he was hit. They'd done surgery on his back end. He eventually healed physically from it, but they had a lot of work to do mentally. The dog was terrified of cars, afraid of the dark and lights after that."

"Lights?" she asked with a confused frown.

"I'll explain later," he said. "They had tried to desensitize the dog and work through it, but as time went on and his training progressed, he became worse and worse. He began redirecting aggressively towards his handler."

"Gee, that seems like it's almost to be expected from these dogs from the sound of it."

He shook his head. "Not always. Justice has never redirected on me or bitten anyone he wasn't told to bite. He is not special, just was a clean slate when I'd gotten him. Nothing and no one had wrecked him.

"They took this other dog on, his name was AWOL," he said with a snicker. "He was given to me to be my next canine. In the beginning he was not so bad. I thought they'd just been pussies who could not handle a real dog. He aced basic training and scent work no problem; anything we threw at him, he passed with flying colours until it was time to start conditioning him for the hard stuff like scaling fifteen foot walls and leaping and apprehending people through windows and vehicles. In retrospect, I should have noticed a problem immediately, but because he still had the drive and desire to do the actual work, I'd brushed off the first few bites from him as over arousal or frustration, which happens."

"What was it?" Bulma asked.

"His back end hadn't healed properly," he said. "It did not occur to me to have him looked over by a vet until I was doing a nail trim one day and he nearly took my hand off." For good measure, he showed her his right hand, which had two puncture scars on the top and two in the palm of his hand. She had noticed before, but hadn't thought anything of it.

"Yikes!" she exclaimed. "So two bad bites and you still chose to work with these dogs?"

"You should see my legs," he chuckled, bringing one of his legs up to the surface and showing her his shin, which also had a deep scar on it. He switched and brought up the other leg, which also had multiple scars as well. "I know every single one of the dogs by name. Hades, AJ, Teno, Rival, Metisse, this one was Axel. By the way, you should know that my life insurance is void because of bitework training."

"What!"

Vegeta took a long sip of his wine, winced and nodded. "I actually have no feeling in either of my forearms anymore. All from nerve damage from wearing a sleeve and sometimes not during training."

"I'm sorry, that's awful!"

"It is not so bad," he brushed off. "It actually helps since I cannot feel anything, so I can endure more pressure and teach the dogs to bite better."

"I guess that's one way to look at it," she said, though she failed to understand how that was a positive thing. Once again, she was reminded that he was obviously an adrenaline junkie. Why else would he consider jumping from planes and getting bit by dogs as fun? "Can you feel anything in your hands?"

"My hands are fine," he said, taking her free hand and lacing his fingers with hers. "It is my forearms that are fucked and likely my shoulders down the road."

She felt the kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in her stomach take flight as he took her hand. "So are all of you who do this stuff just giant chew toys for these dogs?"

"Essentially," he shrugged. "Accidents happen. I've never been bitten severely."

"None of those are severe?"

"Nah, just scratches and a few stitches and glue in a few cases," he laughed. "Probably the worst training bite I ever saw was a bunch of us were training late, getting ready for deployment. So we needed to create scenarios for the dogs involving explosives just to make sure they could handle it. My buddy was only wearing the bite pants and light protection up top, because you do not want the dogs becoming equipment biased where they will not bite someone unless they are wearing padding. Anyway, the dog went for his side, bam!" He let her hand go, stood up suddenly and showed her where the dog had bitten, right in the side, just below where the rib cage started.

"Oh no! Was he okay?"

Vegeta chuckled. "He was fine. We went to the kennels, put in a few staples and continued training until early morning."

"Are you serious?"

Vegeta nodded. "Dog did his job. Accidents happen and we learned that the dog was capable of a live bite. It turned out the staples were a bad idea, as he ended up in the hospital with an infection, but he was ultimately fine. The scar is pretty wild. One of my friends always says if no one gets bitten and no blood is spilled on the training field, it was not a very successful training session." He sat back down, next to her but did not take her hand this time.

"You guys are nuts," she shook her head. "No thank you. So what happened with your dog?"

"I took AWOL to the vet where they X-rayed him; not only his back end where he'd had surgery, but they did his whole body," he went on. "The poor dog's spine was crooked and the first vet who had done the original surgery had missed that his shoulder had been fractured as well. So not only had it healed wrong because it had never been treated, but because it had happened when he was so young, he grew and it had grown wrong, same with the spine. So the poor animal lived in constant pain. He hid it well, but when the tasks became too physically strenuous, he'd redirect and lash out at whomever was closest out of discomfort and frustration; which was usually me."

"Aww, poor dog! How horrible!"

"Yeah, it was not good," he said, taking another long sip of wine and she noted how sad he looked as he retold the story. "We did surgery on him again to correct the shoulder and back hip; all on his right side. There was nothing to be done about his spine, but the vet did not think that was causing him issue.

"Six weeks of strict crate rest and short walks only and the dog began to deteriorate mentally. He reverted to being fearful of vehicles and at night I was the only person who could bring him out. It was devastating to see such a confident dog regress to such fear. Remember I mentioned lights? We had these pot lights in the ground around the walking path. He took to attacking them on evening walks."

"Why the lights?"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder. We think because it had been night time when he'd been hit, he thought they were headlights, as they were round. During the day he was fine, only at night did they bother him. He also became terrified of vehicles again.

"We had hoped once he'd recovered, he'd be fine again once we could work him and get him out more, but before he made full physical recovery from his surgeries, he'd re-injured himself in his crate."

"How come?"

"Too pent up," he shrugged. "These dogs need to work. Being crated twenty four hours a day, seven days a week and only being allowed out for a bathroom break does not work on these guys. He'd been medicated to keep him calm and sedated and it still was not enough. We waited a few more weeks after that, hoping he would recover physically, but he did not. The X-rays had shown another fracture and that basically his whole skeletal frame was fucked from just being out of whack for so long. Had the original vet treated him properly as a puppy and had not missed the other break in his spine and shoulder, he likely would have healed and fared just fine, physically and mentally."

"How sad," Bulma frowned. "So did you find him another home?"

Vegeta shook his head. "No, not with the amount of pain he was in and how much of a liability he was. He was broken mentally and physically. You do not understand the training that goes into this. An unstable dog that knows how to bite someone in a way so as to inflict the maximum damage cannot be rehomed. We agreed that the kind thing to do was to humanely euthanize him," he said, standing up and reaching for his phone, which was laying on his towel nearby.

He scrolled through a bunch of stuff on his phone before handing it to Bulma. "That's AWOL," he said.

Bulma smiled as she looked at the picture on his phone. He was a much darker fawn than Justice was, and she looked at him a moment. Justice was a richer, warm fawn. The other dog had an all-black face as well, but a large, white blaze on his chest, whereas Justice only had a small line, which she'd always thought looked more like a lightning bolt. Besides the color differences though, they looked nearly identical. Had the same head and ear shape, same facial expression.

"You can scroll through," Vegeta said. "It is all mostly dog stuff or military training stuff,"

"No sexy pictures?" she teased.

"Not a one," he shook his head.

"Well that's no fun," she winked at him, but scrolled through his photos and videos. There were plenty of photos of dogs doing bitework, same as Justice. Then she noted the photos of the dog wearing a leg and shoulder brace on his front right side. "This was after surgery?"

"Yes," he nodded. "We'd been hoping we could still salvage him. There should be a video of his last day with us."

"Is it sad?" she asked hesitatingly.

"In the sense that he still wanted to work despite being a complete physical mess, I suppose," he shrugged. "A complete waste of an amazing dog."

Bulma clicked on the video, which showed Vegeta with the dog on lead. The dog was wearing a brace, but looked fine and mobile to her. "He's a mess?"

"Oh ya," he nodded. "I know it does not look like it, but believe me, he was in a lot of pain. He was very heavily medicated there. We took him out to do some fun things before letting him go that evening."

"That's kind of sweet," she smiled sadly as she watched the video. There was a decoy wearing a full suit at the end of the field and the dog was already barking and snarling and straining at his leash in anticipation of the long bite.

"Go!" Vegeta shouted at him and the decoy began to run away. A second later, Vegeta let AWOL go and the dog launched himself across the field like a missile, hitting the decoy so hard, he swung around and the decoy fell right over. Everyone on scene laughed.

"We all know who's buying the first round later!" someone said.

"It is a rule on the field. The first to fall doing bitework, buys everyone the first round of drinks afterwards." Vegeta told her.

She chuckled and kept watching as Vegeta walked up to the dog, picked him up, though he was still hanging onto the guy's arm. He eventually got him to release and then he carefully placed him back on the ground.

"Again?" the decoy asked.

"Sure," Vegeta said. "No need to run this time. Make it easy for him."

They did the same thing. Got the dog amped up and then released him to bite the decoy a few more times. He did not fall again, but each time, Vegeta would grab the dog, ask him to release and place him on the ground carefully. Sometimes he bit the arm, a few times the shoulder.

"Why do you pick him up?" she asked.

"So he does not fall on the ground and hurt himself more," he said. "Cabba is tall, nearly seven feet tall. Not a big deal for Justice, but I did not want to put myself, AWOL or Cabba at risk for injury or a bite."

The last bite, the dog settled on a leg bite and that was when they called it a day. She loved how confident and at ease Vegeta was with the dog, she could tell not only from the way he spoke about it, but from the way he carefully handled the dog in the video, that he cared very much about him. He'd only shown her a video once before working with Justice and she noted both times how relaxed and happy he looked, not tense or stressed out. He loved this stuff and the dogs he worked with.

"That's so sad!" Bulma said, handing him back his phone. "If he hadn't been wearing a leg brace and you hadn't said he was severely injured, you'd never know."

"Nope," he shook his head. "He loved the work. It is a shame he never got the chance to actually work."

"Kind of a waste,"

"A complete waste," he agreed.

"So how long until you got paired up with Justice?"

"Ohh," he sighed, his cheeks puffing out as he thought about it. "A year? More or less? I went and did a tour for eight or nine months or so. They'd liked AWOL so much, they'd contacted his breeder and had taken a semen collection from him a week or so before being put to sleep. They got permission from the breeder to use it and that is where Justice came from."

"So he's directly related to that dog?"

Vegeta nodded. "He is,"

"And how does he compare?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Well he was a six month old, clean slate, no trauma or bad habits to rehab or undo. He's got the same great work ethic, decent off switch, level head."

"But I thought the other one didn't have an off switch."

"You'd have no off switch either if you lived in a small crate you could barely move around in for six to eight weeks straight," he said. "We could not even leave him in the long runs. He needed to be kept as immobile as possible and still found a way to injure himself."

"Fair enough," she agreed. "So will you get another one if you go back?"

"Not likely," he said sourly.

"Why not? You seem to really love this stuff."

"I do," he admitted. "I just do not have it in me to bond to a dog again and have something awful happen to it. It is too hard."

"I could see that," she said thoughtfully.

"As it is, Justice is not out of the woods yet," he said. "I do not know what the future holds for him."

"Well let's hope that they kind of forget about him and he lives a nice, long life in retirement." Bulma said, not wanting to bring down the mood again.

"I cannot do that again," he shook his head and was quiet for a few minutes. "I do not know what I am going to do, actually."

Bulma blinked at him a few times, understanding that he was not only just talking about the dogs now. She was not sure what to say to him. Unlike him, if she made the choice to quit her career, she had options and knew exactly what she was going to do. Even that terrified her; so she could imagine how much scarier the notion would be for him. "You know, I'm sure there's other things you could do other than military deployments. And maybe right now is a good time for you to think about it and figure something out. I'm off, so technically you're off. I insist on it."

Vegeta shrugged.

"If the job of being my bodyguard hadn't come up and you weren't here with me now, what would you be doing?" she asked. It was a rare opportunity that he spoke to her about anything personal. She did not want to ruin the momentum and have him clam up again, like he usually did.

He shrugged again and she worried that perhaps she was pushing the envelope.

"Really, Vegeta, say the severity of your injuries makes it so you don't have the option to go back to what you were doing before, what would you do? You know, you've never actually told me what you do in the military, other than missions and your work with the dogs,"

"I will be going back to what I was doing before," he said in a determined tone.

"Which was?"

"Missions." Bulma made a face at him at his non answer and he relented. "Those could be anything. Peacekeeping, government coups, I've negotiated the release of and organized the rescue and extraction of hostages in many different situations ranging from soldiers who were prisoners of war to individuals who just happened to be vacationing at the wrong place at the wrong time. I have done a little bit of everything, but at the time of the explosion, my main objective was clearing areas from explosives, ensuring it was safe for everyone else to follow."

"Wow, sounds like you did a lot," she said, impressed. "Yet you don't like to talk about any of it?"

"Most people do not understand," he said.

"Fair enough, but it's okay to talk about it because some people want to try to understand."

"It is complicated," he said. "Many missions I have been a part of are also classified, which means I am not able to discuss them."

"So like black ops stuff?"

Vegeta scrunched up his face, shrugged and nodded all at the same time. "Sort of, but not quite as specialized as that. Black ops is what I would like to eventually get into."

"So that was your career goal?"

"Correct."

Bulma nodded and got up to refill her wine. She topped up Vegeta's glass as well. "So, hypothetically speaking, if that fell through and you couldn't keep doing missions or get into the black ops thing, what would you do?"

Vegeta shrugged. "I do not know," he answered honestly. "I suppose, take a desk job, maybe work cases from the intelligence side of things. There are lots of things to do that do not require field work."

"Safer things?"

"Boring things," he corrected her.

"What about training young recruits?"

"And become a drill sergeant? I think not," he scoffed. "Some of my worst memories were from that time."

"Was it bad? Like what you see on tv?"

He nodded. "It was. It is necessary to instil discipline and teamwork, but not a good time."

"And that's where you met Goku?"

"Yes. We bunked together, trained together. Got into trouble together, were deployed together. You name it."

"What kind of trouble did you get into together?" Bulma asked with interest.

"Nothing serious," he shook his head. "And it was usually Kakarott's fault. Fucking clown cannot be on time for anything unless it is meal time. If he is late, it was usually because he was in the hall, stuffing his face."

Bulma laughed. "That sounds about right. Nothing has changed then."

Vegeta shook his head.

"Okay, so if you don't want to train your recruits, why not train the dogs? You love that."

"Perhaps," he shrugged, though did not seem overly interested. "That is hard work. You become attached, have to make difficult choices like when to drop a dog from the training if it is not suited for the work for numerous reasons, and then it becomes a matter of deciding what is best. Send the dog to the police, sell to the private sector? Can the dog be rehomed as a pet in a civilian home? There are a lot of things to consider and you only have a small window of about eighteen weeks to decide if a dog will be suitable for deployment."

"Oh wow! That's it?"

"That's it," he nodded. "It is a lot of pressure you are putting on the dogs, so mistakes cannot be made. Some make it through, many do not. We have taken and evaluated litters of up to twelve puppies from reputable working lines and walked away without choosing one. That is why sometimes we end up with mature dogs that were washed from a police program, or the odd pet dog from a civilian home that bit off more than they could chew. There is a lot there,"

"Sounds like it," she agreed. "You have options though. There's so much you can do with not only your experience and skill set in the field, but with the dog stuff too. Seriously think about it. Don't sell yourself short."

He shrugged. "What will you do if you quit your career?"

"That's not fair! We're talking about you, not me."

"You are out of questions," he said jokingly.

"You have a quota?"

"Correct," he said, drinking his wine. He could feel it beginning to affect him, something that made him uncomfortable. He did not like feeling as though he weren't in control of all his faculties, especially around her. He had already said far too much this evening. He had not talked or thought about AWOL or Tango in years, yet here he was lamenting about two dogs as though he was a child. This was why he did not drink often. "I might not quit my career, so it is a non-issue."

Bulma bit back a sigh. "Well I still need a bodyguard."

"You do," he agreed. "However I cannot do that forever. I do enjoy this job and your company, like right now," he admitted. "I am not planning on leaving you soon, regardless of what my father wants at the moment, but I do have to return at some point and finish what I started."

"Which is what?" She was unsure if he was tipsy or not. However, this was the first time he'd finally, really opened up to her.

"I have to find the pieces of shit who blew up my team," he said after a long pause. The tone of his voice dropping to a tone that almost made her shiver with the iciness of it despite the warm water. "Twenty three good men died. They maimed my dog and myself,"

Bulma didn't say anything. She moved closer to him to hear him better, but made the conscious effort to not touch him, as difficult as that was. If he was going to actually talk about it, she didn't want to miss anything or make him feel cornered or that she was coddling him. As far as she knew, he hadn't spoken about it with anyone. Ten months with her and this was the most he'd ever spoken about growing up and his experiences, or what had happened. Sure he'd told her some stories about things he'd done or encountered, but they were all usually vague and he would find a way to steer the conversation so that they were talking about her. Tonight he was actually telling her things that personally affected and touched him and she didn't want him to close up. It wasn't healthy.

"I need to go back and bring them in," he finally said, not seeming to mind her close proximity. "Or blow up their whole fucking camp and see how they like it."

"I get that, but is that what you want or what your father wants?" she asked, knowing she was likely stepping out of line. "Until your father called you, you hadn't talked much about going back out there."

"I have a contract obligation to fulfill and my father expects it," he said. "I've also been avoiding the thought of going back."

"So this isn't about what you want," she said, torn between treading carefully or just confronting him on the issue. "Your father sure is hard on you. Was he always like that or is it just because of what happened?"

"He has always been that way, except now he is worse. Much more critical of my actions," Vegeta said, not minding her prodding. "He felt the explosion was my fault. Had I acted as more of a leader, it would not have happened."

"I think that's a bit unfair," she frowned. "Mistakes happen. You're only human."

"Mistakes? Twenty three men under my leadership were murdered because I was sloppy," he said with shame. "Mistakes are not allowed. Especially of that magnitude! I am sure my father had to do some major damage control and the only reason I have not been court martialed is because of my good standing and my father's rank."

"Shit happens, Vegeta," she said softly, moving closer to him and placing an arm across his shoulders so she could draw him close. "I know I don't know about military procedures and protocols, but it's not like you went out of your way to be negligent or knew that would happen."

"I knew choosing the direction we went was risky," he said, his teeth clenching. "Not only were we told not to go that way, but Justice had indicated that it was not a good idea. Yet we still decided to go because we were tired and exhausted and it was a short cut to the camp we were supposed to meet up at. I succumbed to peer pressure despite knowing better. I owe it to them to continue to find these people and apprehend them and their leader." He put his wine glass down and put his head in his hands.

"Right, but you didn't know that you'd all get blown up," she insisted.

"The risk was there," he said.

"And you all knew that and decided to chance it," she argued. "It's not just on you alone."

"I made the final decision," he insisted. "Therefore, it is on me and I do not deserve to be here."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself."

He scoffed and shook his head. "There is a dangerous group of terrorists called the Ginyu Force. Their leader is Captain Ginyu. We do not have exact evidence, but rumour has it they are backed and financed by Lord Frieza, the wealthy son of notorious dictator, King Cold."

"Yea, I've seen him in the news," she nodded. "I didn't know he had a son."

"He does," Vegeta said. "It is not mainstream news because no one wants to alarm the general public.

Cold and his son are not on good terms, but they share the same ideologies. Once one is gone, the other will take over. We cannot go after Cold, as he technically has not done anything wrong, or we cannot pin anything on him. His son, however, is very active.

"The Ginyu Force was responsible for the bombing of a major city that refused to surrender to the Cold Empire. They wiped nearly everyone out; thousands of innocent lives were lost. We were sent in to apprehend them for that and to find out where Frieza is.

"We'd been tracking them for nearly three months with no success when another unit on the same mission got news that they had a promising lead on them, so we abandoned our current course and went to join them so we could go in together and investigate.

"They warned us that the area was littered with landmines and to take the long way around the mountains, rather than going through. We were trying to make good time because the Force is always on the move, they do not stay in one place for long, for obvious reasons."

Vegeta took a few sips of his wine before speaking again. "I barely remember what happened," he admitted quietly. "Other than we had been caught in a storm half the day and then continued on towards the camp we were to check in with.

"There was an old, abandoned road going to the right; around a giant hill or mountain. I remember we stopped to consult the map and we realized that following the old road would take us towards camp an hour or two sooner than if we went around the hill. We deliberated and agreed to cut through that way. Justice dropped down to the ground almost immediately. That should have been our first cue to turn back, but we could not see the mine. He was indicating though, that there was an explosive. Typically when he indicates, I am aware of where the device is. This time I could not determine where it was. We all agreed that it must have been a false indication, which can happen, but Justice has never false indicated.

"We continued on and he indicated again, less than a few minutes later, and the last thing I remember is him jumping onto me just as I stepped forward to investigate the spot he was laying. I heard several explosions go off; the ground shook, I was on the ground with my dog on top of me with my ears ringing, I heard someone else screaming to take cover and the next thing I knew, I was in the hospital."

"I cannot even imagine," Bulma said. "It's a miracle you survived."

He nodded and took a long sip of his wine. "The impact from the blast threw both Justice and I back into the side of a mountain. I had a collapsed lung from the impact, Justice's sinus cavity and lung collapsed as well. The force from the blast into the mountain shattered his shoulder and front leg. Apparently, he'd still managed to get himself over to me and was guarding me when we were found. It had taken them some time to calm him down."

Bulma did not know what to say and just soothingly ran her hand up and down his back.

"I am only alive because of him," he said, dropping his head forward in shame as he pulled himself together. "Regardless of if we…" and he gestured between them back and forth with his free hand a couple of times before continuing. "I have to go back at some point."

"I don't know if I would be alright with that," she admitted.

"Well for one, I still have to finish my contract," he shrugged. "I still have six months to go,"

Bulma hadn't thought of that. "Do they take injury time into account?"

"No," he shook his head and chuckled. "Foolish woman,"

"What if something happens? I don't think I could manage not knowing if you're alright or not," she said.

Vegeta shrugged. "I am sure I will be fine."

"You couldn't just take a desk job?" she asked.

"Why would I do that?"

It was her turn to shrug. "Because… It would make me feel better?"

He chuckled dryly. "And if I asked you to quit performing and shooting videos where you dance extremely provocatively with other men, would you quit because it made me feel better?"

Bulma thought about it. "I would, but I am not sure the record label would let me. I don't have much creative control. You know that."

"So that is a no then," he said looking intensely at her.

"No," she shook her head. "I would try to get them to take into account my wishes. I just cannot guarantee they would."

"I could tell you nothing will happen, but I cannot guarantee that I will return in one piece,"

Bulma looked down into her wine glass. "So what do we do?"

He sighed and shook his head. He had said far too much to her this evening and he wasn't sure if he felt better or ashamed.

She slid in closer to him and placed an arm around his shoulders. "We don't have to figure it out this minute," she said quietly. "But I think it's important we both think about what we want over the next little bit. Who knows, maybe we can find a solution that works for both of us."

He grunted and looked at her and leaned into her. She immediately appreciated it as a rare moment where he had let his guard down. He wanted her. She could tell by the way he was studying her. Alright, maybe his guard wasn't down completely, but he was definitely considering something. Her insides fluttered pleasantly and she felt her body temperature rising.

Growing impatient and feeling the liquid courage flowing through her, she leaned in and kissed him.

He did not push her away, but kissed her back slowly and carefully, as though he was savouring the feel of her soft mouth on his. He'd been thinking about kissing her since they'd been in the kitchen making dinner together. He felt her open her mouth to him and he accepted the invitation, deepening their kiss.

He moved a hand up to stroke her jawline, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "People may be watching," he said against her mouth.

"I don't care," she mumbled back into his lips.

He continued to kiss her for a moment longer before he grunted and turned his face from hers and moved his lips to her ear. "Not here,"

Bulma pouted as he stood up.

"It is bad enough that I now cannot take my dog for a walk or go to the supermarket without an audience," he said, looking down at her and lightly caressing her chin, not wanting her to take it personally. "I will not have genuine, intimate moments documented and splashed around the internet and magazines for the amusement of others."

Bulma smiled and once again her insides fluttered. The fact that he wanted no one else privy to their private moments moved her deeply. Was there anything about Vegeta that wasn't perfect or didn't impress her?

It had been a long time since she and Yamcha had been an item, but as soon as she had begun getting noticed, he'd always been about public displays of affection. In the beginning it hadn't bothered her all that much. Any publicity was good publicity. However once the tabloids began making false assumptions on their relationship status and whether or not she was pregnant, she'd grown to not want everyone privy to every moment in her life. It became the first of many bones of contention in her and Yamcha's relationship.

He loved the attention and notoriety that being with her gave him. He'd started his own social media profile and was even more active online than she was.

Eventually they began bickering. He would be offended that she didn't want the paparazzi to take and publish photos of them making out or other private moments. One such fight they had was over her not wanting to make a sex tape with him. Even back then, she hadn't trusted him to make sure it would never be seen by anyone. Or that he wouldn't make sure it accidently was leaked. They'd stayed together for the fans for a while; or that had been what she'd told herself. Finally, when they split for good, she hadn't cared that people thought she'd left him for Lapis. Sure she'd had a bit of a crush on him until she figured out he wasn't interested in women. However she could go out and have a good time with him without worry that he was just using her as a photo op to boost his career or ego by getting into her pants. Other than Vegeta, Lapis and Goku were the only two real friends she had that she could trust and knew they were sincere.

She'd dated a few other people after Yamcha. Famous people who basked in the constant media attention like Yamcha. Even the non-famous men she'd gone out with only wanted the attention so she always felt used. That was why Vegeta was such a breath of fresh air to her. He wasn't about any of that, but she was worried it would be a deal breaker for him down the road should they embark on something more serious.

"Well then I'm ready to turn in for the night if you are," she said.

He offered her his hand to help her exit the hot tub and they both swayed a little. Bulma clutched onto his shoulder for balance as they climbed out and descended the stairs.

"I think I stood up too fast," she said, leaning into him and resting her cheek on his chest for a moment as she caught her equilibrium.

She felt the vibration of his voice as he grunted. He shifted somewhat and she felt a towel around her shoulders. They both didn't realize how inebriated they were until they fumbled with putting the hot tub cover back on and headed back into Bulma's home.

Bulma clutched onto his bicep for dear life as they headed in. "Woman, you're going to make me fall," Vegeta complained.

"You're the one not walking straight!" She busted out laughing, her hand trailing down from his bicep to take his hand.

"Whatever," he grunted. He was a little bit more than tipsy and he didn't like it.

As soon as they made it inside the privacy of her home, Bulma's mouth was on his. Her arms wound around his neck, her towel had fallen to the floor between them and she leaned herself into him, pressing her body into his.

Vegeta's hands drifted to her hips, welcoming her and pulling her in close as he kissed her back hungrily. He loved the way her body arced into his as though she were meant to be there. He felt his fingers playing with the strings of her damp bikini bottoms and rather than pull the strings, his hands navigated to the small of her back where he began lightly tracing his fingers sensually up and down her spine.

Bulma felt warm, but shivered at his touch and abruptly broke their kiss, unable to handle wasting anymore time with heated glances, flirtatious banter or light caresses; she wanted him now, before he changed his mind. She took his hand and urgently led him through to her side of the apartment and he stopped once they reached the threshold. "What?" she whispered hoarsely to him.

"I need to grab something to wear," he said.

"Why?"

"Because my shorts are wet,"

"So? They're coming off,"

"Not tonight," he shook his head. "I am far too drunk."

She pouted for a moment. "So am I, but so what?"

He grinned at her. "Find something to watch, I will join you." He was more than content just being near her in his state.

The next morning, Bulma woke up with his arms around her waist. Her head was pounding and she felt the room spinning. The tv was on and the volume was low. If she hadn't been hungover, the fluttering in her stomach from waking up with Vegeta's arms around her would have been pleasant.

Her mind took a moment to register what had happened the previous night. She couldn't remember much after getting into the hot tub after dinner except for Vegeta talking about the different dogs he'd trained, him needing to go back into the military service and them making out. Shit, he'd told her about what had happened and she could only vaguely remember the details!

"We did not do anything last night," Vegeta mumbled against her shoulder. He had gone to his side of the apartment to grab his sweatpants and by the time he'd chugged down a bottle of water and made it back to Bulma's room, she'd been fast asleep with some trashy reality television program playing. He'd decided to still spend the night with her. It had taken him a while to fall asleep, as his mind had been full of things he hadn't thought about in ages and he was berating himself for allowing himself to become that intoxicated. Having her near made him feel better and eventually he'd drifted off to sleep.

"I kinda gathered that since I'm still wearing my tank top and shorts," she sighed.

"Hmmmn?" He grunted, picking up on her discontent.

"Nothing, just… I feel like it's never going to happen and you just enjoy teasing me and putting me off."

He grunted something that resembled a no before stifling a yawn and drawing her closer to him in reassurance. "If it does, it will not be while either of us is inebriated,"

"Hmm you know I won't mind you taking advantage of me," she joked.

"I want you to remember everything I am going to do to you," he said sensually into her ear, making her shiver. "I do not want to worry about you falling asleep mid-way through either."

She instantly felt warm and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered like a storm at the way he'd said that. As anxious as she was to finally cross that line with him, she actually found herself thankful that nothing had happened last night. She found it endearing that she clearly was not just a hookup to him. He was far more than just that to her. Obviously when it happened, it would be special and for that she was happy to wait. "Hmmm, yea I probably would have last night," she admitted.

"I know," he said. "You were already snoring by the time I came in here."

"You still stayed though,"

"I did not want to offend you this morning," he said. "I… apologise for my conduct last night. I should not have indulged as I had and I did not mean to lead you on."

"Don't apologise, I still really enjoyed last night," she said. "It was really nice talking about you for a change. Thank you for that, even if it only was because you were drunk. If anything, I'm sorry for drunkenly throwing myself at you yet again."

He was quiet for a few minutes; she'd begun to doze off again. "I do not want to complicate things between us until I know more or less what the future holds,"

The sound of his voice brought her back. She laced her fingers with one of his hands that was resting on her side. "I'm not trying to pressure you. I appreciate that it's complicated because you work for me and I deeply respect your… dedication and professionalism. I just… I really…" she sighed, trying to figure out how to tell him what she wanted him to know without sounding pathetic or desperate. Why was this so hard? "I care about you… a lot, and I'm very sure about that."

He quietly listened to her and his heart sank as he realised he was hurting her. That was not his intention. Quite the opposite; he was afraid of hurting her if they did cross that line. She was being open and honest with him now, it was his turn. He wasn't sure how to express himself to her though. He wasn't good at this sort of thing, which was also why he avoided relationships. He wasn't any good at this heart to heart discussion of one's feelings stuff. "I care about you as well. A lot… a lot more than I should," he then sighed in frustration. "That is not what I meant,"

"I know what you meant," she said and he could tell she was smiling. That set him somewhat at ease.

"It is complicated," he went on. "If things progress, what happens if things do not work out? I do not want to do that and then leave you if I officially get called back. If I am with you, then I am with you."

She nodded, but did not say anything because she sensed he had more to say. It brought her some relief that he was having just as much a difficult time expressing himself to her as she did being honest with him about where things currently stood between them.

"I still feel concerned that I cannot effectively be your bodyguard and your… significant other," he continued, speaking slowly so as to make sure he not only said exactly what he meant, but meant what he said. "If something happened to you because I got sloppy, I do not know what I would do. I am still figuring that out. I would need to find you a suitable replacement, but then that leaves me with no occupation once my contract is up."

"Who says you need an occupation?" she asked. "Your occupation could be travelling around with me as my companion. You could take your time figuring out what you want to do, maybe even decide to go back to school and switch careers and do whatever you want, I'd make it happen."

He shook his head. "I will not be a kept man. That would only keep me content for a very short while. I need something to do."

"Right, but you wouldn't have to rush your decision. Take a year or two off. Come with me while I finish off my obligations with this album and the next. Then who knows, maybe I'll be done with all of this and decide to work for my father."

Maybe. As in maybe she would and maybe she wouldn't. Which meant maybe the press would grow bored and leave her alone… or maybe they wouldn't.

"Do not take this the wrong way," he said. "I do not know if I can deal with all of the media attention and scrutiny. I know that is not your fault, but I also understand that it is something I will need to come to terms with should we become serious. If… I feel if we are intimate while I am already uncomfortable with all of that, then I will end up hurting you. I do not know if I can overcome that and I would rather figure it out sooner, before we take things further."

"I guess I can understand that. Especially for someone like you, GI Joe," she teased him. "You never know though, play along and you might actually have some fun with it."

"I do not know if I can live with that and I do not want to hurt you over it," he said honestly. He wished he could be with her without the circus that seemed to follow.

"It's hard," she agreed. "I grew up with it, so I'm used to it, to a degree. But in the beginning of my career, it was fun. I even made friends with some of them because they were always around. I remember I'd tease them and make them fill my car with gas or if they were camping on my sidewalk, I'd ask them to go buy me a case of coolers. One time I ordered a bunch of pizzas for them."

"Why would you do that?"

Bulma shrugged. "Dunno. Young and dumb, I guess? It seemed harmless at the time. Plus I didn't want bad stuff said about me. Treat them well and they love you and won't make you out to be a bitch or crazy person."

"Yet they make you out to have a revolving door of boyfriends and accuse you of substance abuse," he pointed out.

"Yea, I know," she sighed. "I guess there's no avoiding bad press. I don't do things like that anymore. Not since my abduction. Since then, I just want to be left alone."

"It sounds like your tolerance of their constant presence was taken for granted and they do not appreciate your nature to be open with the public."

"I mean, if they are going to follow me and photograph me anyway, I may as well be nice. They've all made a lot of money over the years because I am very open with them and in turn I get some pretty awesome free promotion for the label. They make stupid money on photos with me and Lapis or even a photo with us would make them a small fortune."

"Yet you're harassed nonstop," he pointed out. Inwardly he cringed at the thought that the previous night that someone could have snapped photos of them making out in the hot tub before he'd thought of that and they retired for the evening so as not to be observed. He hoped there would not be photos splashed everywhere over the next few days.

"I'm taking a huge step back and have slowly been putting up some boundaries so hopefully it'll let up eventually," she reassured him. "As for things regarding us, I'm in no hurry. Let's just see where things take us while I'm off. We both have lots to figure out."

He grunted again, unsure what to say. He was torn. Part of him was relieved he'd been honest with her and that they were on the same page for now. The other part of him wanted to throw all of his rules out the window and take a chance. He rarely went outside of whatever boundaries he set for himself. What if things went badly? But what if they didn't and he was missing out on something fulfilling? What if he did go back and got himself killed this time? Would it be worth not ever taking a chance? Or would he still be setting Bulma up for heartbreak?

So many things to doubt and consider and he wished he could shut his mind off and live in the moment. Never had he had downtime like he did now. It was a blessing and a curse because it gave him too much time to overthink things.

He squeezed her in reassurance and they both drifted back to sleep for a few hours before finally getting up to start the day.