Hiccup!
"Haaaaaaaaiiiii," Bulma drawled into the receiver, half-hanging over the edge of the couch. Her hair swung just above the floor as she had her knees draped across the backing, the skirt of her black evening gown lewdly jumbled around the tops of her thighs. With her cheeks tinged a bright pink and her aqua eyes bleary and glazed over, it was unquestionable that the heiress of Capsule Corporation had met and was well beyond her limit for that evening.
A slowly deflating balloon rolled by, and Bulma lazily swatted at it a moment too late. She giggled to herself, as bubbles popped behind her brain.
"Welllll," Bulma drew out the word with her tongue pressed sluggishly against her teeth, "I will – hic! – see you next year, then, Yamuchaaa-chaaaan!" She offered spiritedly into the phone, before she pulled it away and her thumb searched for the 'end' button. A contented sigh filtered from her lungs as she pitched the portable phone to the floor, her eyelids drooping with the weight of her inebriation.
Vaguely, she recognized the spiky silhouette approaching her, and her smile spread slowly.
"You're more revolting than usual. Get up, onna."
"Vegetaaa-kun!" Bulma squealed upon fully registering his entrance, apparently unfazed to find herself staring at his kneecaps. Her gaze strained upward in its quest to meet his face, and she worked her lashes to try and clear the vision of him. "…Happy new year!" She cheered obnoxiously as a second thought, her hand jutting out and upward.
Taking the hint with a grunt of disdain, Vegeta accepted her open palm, tugging the woman upright. He watched, briefly entranced, as her legs slid languidly from over the couch and her pale appendages curled underneath her.
"Here, here," she slurred, wobbly stretching out for the bottle of sake on the coffee table, as well as one of the tiny cups. "Drink and be merry with me, it's the New Year," Bulma all but demanded, swiftly presenting the two objects to the Saiyan.
"No," was his blunt decline of her offer. With what modicum of gentleness he could muster, he pushed her wares away from his face.
Bulma sniffed and scowled, immediately pulling herself back from him. "Fine, be that way," she griped, already pouring herself another shot of sake. "More for me!"
"Tch," he scoffed as his nose wrinkled in disgust. "As though you need it."
His revulsion was met with little more than the quick flash of her tongue, before Bulma tipped back the beverage. He watched her swallow it easily, her throat moving around the liquid, and he observed with mild interest the serenity that spread out over her reddened, pretty features.
However, the unnecessary smacking of her lips thereafter effectively ruined what little desire may have coiled inside him in that moment. Suddenly aware of his lingering presence – and stare - Bulma drowsily blinked up at him, her mouth falling slack in her surprise. "Eh? You're still here? Nani? Nani yooo?"
His lack of a response brought a snide smile over Bulma's rosy lips, and she settled the bottle and glass carelessly upon the table before sinking deeper against the arm of the couch, her legs kicking outward. She peered up at him with a wicked look suddenly, catching him eyeing her lower limbs, and those typically wide, inquisitive blue orbs narrowed, almost feline in their pinkened state now. "You're still here," Bulma stated this time, somewhat bitingly around her lazy tongue. "Y'know, that's weird."
"Is it." He was curious to see where this would lead. Vegeta had been witness to many of the woman's drunken ramblings, particularly during her breakup with the weakling. They had always proved to be amusing.
"And Son-kun is not," she enunciated each word as best she could, her voice falling almost effortlessly into that hostile tone. Vegeta resisted the urge to frown or show distaste in the turn of her observations, continuing to stand silently nonetheless, his arms folded across his chest. "It's not fair, you know," Bulma yielded with a quivering frown, her azure eyes slipping a bit to the left of Vegeta's face to intently study the wall beyond him.
"What a pity."
She was already tearing up – he could see the droplets glistening on her lashes as she fought courageously to prevent them from spilling. Yet one leaked out despite her best efforts, the lonely tear trailing down her cheek as she screwed up her face. "He's not here and … and he was just so nice," Bulma's voice cracked on its way out, her words forlorn and her eyes downcast toward her outstretched legs. "He was the nicest guy I ever met," she continued sadly, those unbelievably large blue eyes reaching Vegeta's unsettled gaze.
God, he felt like he was wading in them. He could already feel the bile itching up his throat as he watched her crumble and wash away.
"You don't even care," she pointed out with a quick hitch to her voice. "But you don't know, either. He was so nice. Son-kun."
A ridiculous sniffle was drawn, and Bulma lifted the back of her hand to brush at the tip of her damp nose. Upon glancing back up to him, she found Vegeta unaffected and unmoved by her admission – and it seemed so wrong, for him to care so little. Bulma broke a bit inside; she could feel the little pieces chipping away as she half-sobbed, "A-and you're so mean! All of the time!"
Vegeta found himself off-guard. The tears and how candid she was being with him now – he didn't understand it. She was crying in front of him, and while he had seen her use tears as a weapon against Yamucha, never once had she allowed herself to appear so weak around him. It unnerved him; the sight and sound of her openly weeping, her disappointment in him and in his survival, it made his palms sweat and his muscles twitch.
Stuttering and (god help him) anxious, Vegeta rose his voice over her sniveling. "Shut up! Kakarotto's dead and gone! What good will this," he gestured with a scowl toward her quivering form, "do you or him now?"
Bulma snapped her head up to stare boldly into Vegeta's eyes, almost startling the Saiyan with the quickness of her movement. Unfettered by her own tears and the singular show of her weakness, she glowered and shook her head fiercely against his harsh words. Her mouth opened furiously, seemingly to say something of grand importance, but at once she closed her lips tightly together and leaned back into her corner of the couch – away from him - her gaze miserable and distant as she watched the clock tick itself to midnight and into another year.
Author's Note: It never works out the way it should in real life. The bad guys always survive and the good guys sacrifice themselves. When watching the Cell Games, it struck me as so sad that while Goku and Gohan acted immediately, all the others - including Vegeta - were more concerned for their own well being.
Anyway, so here's Bulma and Vegeta, addressing such an interesting issue. I couldn't imagine Bulma being so open to him without being intoxicated - nor imagine Vegeta actually bothering to listen if it were otherwise.