Upon sight of his looming shadow, Bulma grinned. And as his hands fell over the bend of her waist, her mouth slid into a smirk.
"You're interrupting me," she chastised him loftily as her fingers tickled idly at her crimson toenails. It was in mirror of his drumming at her waist.
"What's this you're doing now, onna?" His question was emphasized with a pointed squeeze at her hip.
Heavily, mostly in agitation, Bulma sighed and rolled her eyes. With a final flex of her digits, she moved upright, his nearness behind her hindering the fluidity of the motion. She twirled, his hand falling from her sides as she did so, and Bulma arched a brow in mimic of his own perturbed expression. "I've told you this before," she reminded him and issued another sigh upon his furthered squinting. "It's yoga. Exercise."
"Oh," Vegeta's eyes fell down to the mat on the floor, and then found the prattling female on the television screen. "That."
Despite his condescension, Bulma could easily pinpoint the flickering flame of interest that hid just beyond his pride. A smile curved anew over her lips, and she gave a playful tug to his elbow. "You should try it," she suggested, immediately rewarded by a sneer of disdain. "Seriously, Vegeta! Who knows," Bulma released his arm and approached her mat again with a shrug. "You might even become - gasp! - relaxed!" Arching out her shoulders, she snickered to herself and tilted her head back to spy the tip of his oddly spiked hair. "Oh, but of course. We can't have that, can we?"
Vegeta had certainly picked up on a calmness in the woman's demeanor of late. Briefly, he considered whether or not this quote-unquote 'exercise' of hers really had anything to do with her gradual easiness. Were it true, he supposed it would not be entirely beneath him to investigate the rest of its benefits - including, but not limited to, Bulma's slimmer waistline and firmer stomach. A grumble of annoyance inched out of his chest as Bulma turned her head to offer him the coyest of grins.
This woman. He still didn't have it completely figured out. How could he allow himself to be roped into such acts of humiliation?
Vegeta approached her side and shuffled awkwardly at her sudden beaming, a reddish tint rising uninvited into his cheeks. "Now what?" He bit out, his best efforts thrown into ignoring her obvious pleasure in his succumbing to her request.
"Just watch the lady on the screen," she told him. As her words ended, the aforementioned instructor began her explanation of the Sun Salutation pose. In silence, the couple moved together with the woman's soothing instructions. Upright they stood, their pressed palms swinging upward on an inhale, their backs arching gently with the movement. Exhaling, both bent forward, their hands at their feet – inhaling, their legs were stepping back.
The unison movement unnerved Vegeta to a degree. He felt the hair on the backs of his arms and neck rising in suspicion of his own actions – and those of Bulma's. Stealthily, he observed her out of the corner of his eye. He was uncertain of the sudden leap of his stomach at her pleasant expression; she was calm and comfortable, unaware of his reservations.
"You should really be watching the screen, Vegeta," Bulma spoke abruptly, startling him out of his pensive state. Mouth moving like a fish, he shifted into her similar position and refocused upon the television.
As they moved downward from the plank position together on another exhale, Vegeta became aware of pretty blue eyes falling over his profile. "Who isn't paying attention now?" He mocked her with raised eyebrow, refraining from placing his consideration upon the woman at his side.
"I know this posture by heart," Bulma half-laughed, though she kept her gaze trained on him, even as they stretched into Upward Dog. She groaned aloud as the muscles in her back accommodated to the position. Vegeta's smirk only served as an added irritant. "Oh, shut up," she spat aggressively, her face finally turning away from him. "We can't all be super-human."
"Not human in the least," the Saiyan snorted and glanced sideways, conveniently missing Bulma's simulated gagging motion. When he had returned his interest to her again, Vegeta found her as he had once upon a time before. Bulma had already moved into the Downward Dog; the most favorable of all these postures, he considered with a smirk, as he allowed his gaze to rove freely over her body.
Further annoyed by his non-compliance and keenly aware of his lascivious staring (and a bit flustered by the awkwardness of her position), Bulma glared at him from behind her propped arm. "Oh, so you're too good for this, then?" Through grit teeth, she snarled, "Jerk."
"Don't think for a second I'd lower myself to such embarassing lengths, onna," he chuckled darkly, and he instead settled himself into a similar lunge that Bulma had dropped into. "Believe me when I say this won't be happening again."
It was Bulma's turn to smirk and giggle as she and Vegeta moved into the head-to-knee position. They bent forward in tandem once again. "That should be your motto," she advised into her knees, unable to contain her amusement at the sharp glower he shot her way. "We could even get it printed on a bunch of shirts or buttons, with your handsome mug on all of them. Sell them, make tons of money. I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of other men who tell themselves just that."
Together, they rose and arched slowly, two sets of limbs reaching overhead. "Have you always been out of your mind, or have I done this to you?" Vegeta wondered of her, sans any particular worry. "Truly my greatest work yet, should that be the case," he added as an afterthought.
"Oh, it's almost all you," she pretended to swoon and faced him as the video informed its viewers to pursue a break. "Though, Trunks has definitely aided you in the complete destruction of my sanity." Before Vegeta could retort, however, something seemed to occur to Bulma then. "Oh, Trunks," she breathed, her brows creasing together in a vision of concern.
"What about him now?" Vegeta groaned in exasperation. It seemed that with every day that passed, this woman found something else to fret about over their offspring. Granted, she was not nearly as irritating as Kakarotto's mate…
"I can't believe I've forgotten to tell you," Bulma shook her head in disbelief of absentmindedness and perhaps to dislodge whatever information she had stored away. "It's so— I mean, you're just not going to believe it! When Chi Chi told me, I—"
Ah. "If it's anything to do with that harpy, keep it to yourself," he cut her off abruptly, his palm presented to her. "Any concern of hers is not worth enduring. You'd do best to wipe your mind of it—" His voice rose louder, as Bulma's mouth began to move again in protest. "-Because I will not suffer through it."
Though she seemed to struggle for the right to continue, Bulma appeared to inevitably settle. He completely expected her to launch into further explanation despite his warning, and when none came, Vegeta felt rather put out. "Fine," she finally exhaled. "But when you find out, don't say I didn't try to tell you."
"I'll keep it in mind," he gruffed and lifted his onyx eyes to the ceiling and back down to her features. Her unwavering stare was beginning to take its toll on his patience, and so he jerked a thumb toward the television. "Is this done, then?"
"Huh?" She stumbled into reality again and glanced toward the flickering screen. "Oh. Oh, yeah," Bulma muttered and reached to the coffee table for the remote, clicking a couple of buttons to properly shut off the television and video alike. With a quick breath, she looked up to him with a half-smile, querying in her best impersonation of him, "What is it that you want, now?"
Grunting, he took her by the arm and pulled, leading her in the direction of what she knew to be the kitchen. Bulma paled as the word fell out of his mouth.
"Dinner."
"Vegeta, no!" She cried out amidst her attempts to yank away from him. "I just exercised! We can't eat after a work-out!"
"The hell we can't!" Vegeta growled, a streak of anger lashing through his mind at the very notion. He remained unrelenting on his grip of her appendage as he thought on it and countered over his shoulder, "Besides, no one said you had to eat."
Author's Note: I'M ALIVE! Sorry, I suffered through writer's block - I really was in love with my last chapter and couldn't figure out how to move from there into the next one - and some real life stuff has been a nuisance. But here we go! I told you I'd do a Vegeta+Bulma yoga chapter!
I've got the last three chapters planned out, so expect them up within the next week or so. I'm just gonna round this fic off at an even 20 chapters, I think. I really could just do more and more (these one-shots are so fun!) but I think where I have it planned to end should be enough.
This is set sometime during the early part of the Great Saiyaman arc - perhaps just a bit before. Anyone want to guess what Bulma's secret about Trunks is? ;)