"He was such a nice boy, wasn't he, dear?" Bunny sprightly inquired of her husband, who merely nodded and mumbled from behind his moustache. The blonde turned toward her daughter, who seemed quite engaged in separating the food upon her plate. A frown drew over Bunny's face. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
"Wha--?" Bulma glanced up, startled by the invasion unto her own little world. "No, nothing's wrong, mama."
Knowingly, Bunny began to grin and she innocently tilted her head at her daughter. "Mmm, I know what it is," she sing-songed, her beam threatening to illuminate the room. "You miss Vegeta-chan, isn't that right?"
Torn between annoyance and amusement, Bulma settled on a mute smile, her lips pulled tight in a line as she went back to pushing her mashed potatoes around with her fork. "Don't be absurd, mama," the marine woman chided her mother with a ghost of a snicker, finally piercing a branch of broccoli and lifting it to her mouth. "If anything, I miss Trunks."
"The baby?" Dr. Briefs lifted his nose out from the schematics he had spread out around his plate, a furrowed brow of confusion offered between his daughter and the high chair beside her. "What? Why?"
"No, no!" Bunny fussed at her husband and waved a dismissive napkin his way. "She means the boy who left today! Sweetie, sometimes I don't know where you're at in there!"
Blankly, Bulma stared between her parents, the urge to mock her mother subdued by the sorrow from the day's events. She really did miss the older version of her son – she supposed it was an instinctive attachment to him that was making her heart throb so painfully. Beside her, her own edition of Trunks was snoozing in his high chair, his face partially hidden underneath his dinner.
Her mother's hmmming and haaaing regained her focus, and Bulma looked quizzically upon her mother who was gazing up at the ceiling with a peculiar expression on her face. "I wonder where he is. He hasn't even come down for dinner! I announced dinner time on the intercoms…" the woman trailed off, an uncharacteristic pensiveness taking over her normally perky features. Instantly, she brightened, her utter glee resuming. "Oohh, I know! I'll just make him a plate and bring it up to Vegeta-chan! He would be so grateful—"
"Mama, no! Don't do that bully any favors," Bulma groaned in renewed frustration. Her mother had been all atwitter over Vegeta since his return to Capsule Corporation had been made aware to all. While Vegeta was obviously ready to snap the woman's neck on sight, it had taken Trunks' departure and a handful of hours to drain Bulma of the patience necessary to deal with her mother's coddling. "I'll make him a plate and bring it up to that jerk."
Clucking her tongue at Bulma as rose from the dinner table, Bunny shook her head after her daughter. "You shouldn't treat him like that, Bulma-chan! After all, Vegeta-chan did help save the world."
"Vegeta didn't do anything," Bulma muttered darkly to herself above the stove, an empty plate now in hand. She began to load it up with the delicacies the Capsule Corporation chefs had prepared for the evening, her own head beginning to move in disbelief at herself. It wasn't true – Vegeta had done something, hadn't he? She remembered Trunks practically gushing to her, his eyes bright and excited, with what Yamucha had told him; how Vegeta allegedly went ballistic when Cell had greatly wounded Trunks on the battlefield.
Personally, she didn't believe it. That certainly wasn't the Vegeta she knew, or thought she knew. Was he even capable of exhibiting such behavior? Certainly, she didn't want to get Trunks' hopes up, so she played along - but the nagging doubt still resided in the back of her mind.
Sighing, Bulma twirled from the stove and smiled fadingly toward her mother, who was watching her daughter expectantly - more than likely ensuring Bulma had estimated an accurate portion for their guest. "I'll go run this up to him," she gestured toward the ceiling with the plate. "But could you clean up Trunks-chan and get him to bed for me, mama?" Her request came with a tiny nod toward her dozing son, and Bunny all but lit up at the thought.
"Of course I can! When would I ever NOT wanna be around this cutie-pie! Trunks-chan, you're just toooo adorable…"
The sounds of her mother's baby-talk died as soon as Bulma made it out of the dining wing. She couldn't help but send her gaze heavenwards; it was a mistake to have allowed herself to suffer through family dinner. Her heart simply hadn't been in it and half the time Bulma's mind had been empty or elsewhere. Balancing the plate with both hands (the food was threatening to fall over the edges, already there was cake dashing across her knuckles) Bulma ascended the staircase that led into Vegeta's wing of the compound.
Vegeta's wing. She smirked to herself at the very thought. After all that time away from Capsule Corporation, she had doubted that he'd ever really return. And yet he had. For whatever reason, he had come back. Were Bulma a gambling woman, she'd bet half her estate it was simply because he knew that he could.
And that, quite frankly, irritated her a little bit.
The knuckles not caked in Vegeta's dinner rapped sharply at the door, and she paused to wait for allowance into the room. When no response came, Bulma exhaled exaggeratedly and, devoid of second thoughts, she pressed the button on the wall to her left, and the door slid apart for her. Granting herself entry, Bulma hesitated just inside the bedroom, taking in what was, for all intents and purposes, Vegeta's bedroom.
She had probably only been within it a handful of times – only one memory was particularly vivid, Bulma blushed at the recollection – and it struck her as somewhat disheartening that he still had not bothered to decorate it for himself.
"I don't remember telling you to enter, onna."
Either she had become immune to his stealth, or he was losing his touch. Bulma smirked, her irises flitting into the corners to catch him moving out of the bathroom. Shamelessly, she searched his body, her gaze briefly settling over the towel clutched low around his hips. "It's my house, Vegeta. I can go wherever I please," she retorted with a quick glance back to his face.
Vegeta was neither pleased nor amused in the least. A sudden urge to placate him blossomed in Bulma's stomach, and her smirk softened into a half-smile as she proffered the plate load of delectables to him. "Here. Dinner. Mama was worried Vegeta-chan would forget to eat."
"That woman's a fucking idiot," he snarled, his nose wrinkling up as he inspected the food being offered to him.
Noting the picky look edging into his eyes, Bulma glowered deeply upon him. "Beggars can't be choosers, Vegeta," she snapped as her arms outstretched ever further with the plate. "Now, take it! My arms are tired! This shit weighs a ton."
Snorting in aggravation, Vegeta snatched the plate from her with one hand, though it appeared that something caught his eye. Abruptly his fingers coiled around her wrist and with a jerking motion, her hand was presented before him. Bulma gasped at the intrusion, attempting to wrench herself away from his iron grip. "What the hell are you doing, Vegeta?!"
The explanation did not come with words. Quickly and quietly, Vegeta took her index and middle fingers into his mouth, and Bulma's knees began to quake beneath her. He cleaned her fingers languidly, ridding them of the confection dabbled over her knuckles; a keen eye kept upon her melting features all the while.
Bulma was morbidly fascinated with the movement of his mouth around her fingers, and that glinting look in his onyx eyes; everything that made her a sane and logical and rational being began to slip away – fast. As he released her digits, Bulma swooped in for herself, their mouths fusing instantly. It was far more intimate than she was sure either of them would prefer, but it would be nevertheless satisfying, at least for Bulma.
A dull clatter sounded somewhere in the real world as Vegeta maneuvered her almost violently down on to his bed, the woman's blue tresses gripped tight in his hands as her hands dared journey ever lower.
Author's Note: Set the day Mirai Trunks goes back to the future.
Decided to do something a little racy in the end, because let's face it, the whole of Vegeta and Bulma's relationship - whatever it turned out to be in the end - was rooted initially in sexual attraction. This chapter's a little more substantial than my others, 'cause it felt like it needed more of a "story" feel to it. Hope it doesn't seem out of place with the other chapters!
I want to thank everyone for their reviews, too! I didn't intend on this being an extensive endeavor, though now it's looking like it might be! I've already started working on two other chapters!