Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z, nor do I own any part of the Dragon Ball franchise.
"What!" Bulma squawked. "Why don't you have washing machines? Or dryers?"
Chi-Chi turned her nose up while mechanically folding a purple blouse. "I prefer the traditional methods of cleaning,"
"I am not hand-washing his pants,"
"You were the one who poured orange juice on him,"
"He was the one acting like a stupid pig. He deserves it. He should wash his own pants,"
"You should tell him that," Chi-Chi said dryly. "I'm sure that would go over well,"
Bulma nervously tugged at the navy spandex in her hands.
So maybe it hadn't been her brightest move. So he had flipped the biggest shit in the history of flipping shits. So he had stripped his pants off and shoved it in her arms, demanding she wash them or be blasted to bits.
Kakarot had choked on bacon and Chi-Chi had shielded her eyes.
Vegeta wore spandex briefs. Lord help Bulma if she wasn't even a little bit appreciative.
Vegeta was definitely being overdramatic, though.
Her fellow Earthling directed Bulma over to a washboard much to her horror.
Oh, the humanity!
"I bet those fatties are just stalling so they can eat more," Bulma moaned.
Chi-Chi looked annoyed while she packed a suitcase of her things. Bulma squatted in the bathtub, totally miffed with her circumstances, while Chi-Chi was in the adjoining bedroom.
Bulma scrubbed a blob of detergent into the spandex and began to smile. Ah. Hope he likes the smell of grapefruit and sugar beet. Ooh, this smells nice~
She was in the middle of wringing the water out when Saiyan prince himself appeared, looking as grumpy as he usually did. Bulma gave him a dismissive wave. Now she was determined on choking the water out of every fiber of his battle pants. It was oddly...therapeutic.
When he narrowed his eyes and snatched the wrinkled material from pruny hands, she cocked her brow patronizingly.
"What, do you plan on wearing your pants wet? And whose pants have you been wearing all this time?" Bulma propped her fists up to her hips and looked at the gray sweats sagging around his waist.
Vegeta sniffed, his stare dropping from her face. "I found it," Why is he staring at my top? Bulma risked a peek at herself.
"Hey!" Chi-Chi screeched from the doorway with an accusing pointer finger at the scowling Prince. "Those are Daddy's pants!"
Meanwhile, Bulma's cheeks reddened at the wet splotches on her microscopic top. Perv! She couldn't help the fact that it was COLD and Mother Nature's thermometer was acting up.
"My...My virgin eyes!"
"Hm?" Bulma turned to see Chi-Chi slap her hands over eyes and flee.
For the second time that day, Vegeta dropped his pants. His boots were already off and he somehow managed to slip into wet spandex with no difficulty, which probably offended some law of physics. Bulma was decidedly envious.
He surrounded himself with a hot, blue, crackling aura that immediately dried the pants.
Vegeta ignored Bulma's questioning look. With a mental sigh, she chalked it up as another strange thing that came with being a Saiyan.
"Get up," He barked. Bulma jumped at his voice and lifted herself out of the tub. Shoot, these shorts just had to be transparent. These panties are way too sexy to be seen-through. ARGH!
Vegeta was already out of room when she left the bathroom. Bulma slouched into the bedroom. "Hey Chi-Chi, can I borrow some clothes? Mine got soaked,"
"If you call that clothing," The younger girl gave Bulma a disapproving once-over. "Here,"
Chi-Chi held out a long-sleeved shirt and a long skirt.
Bulma was indignant. "Are you serious? You're giving me that?"
Chi-Chi's eyes flashed. "Excuse me? You have some nerve, entering my home, eating my food, and then complaining about clothes that are practical. You," She sharply pointed at Bulma's shocked face. "are abusing my hospitality. You can stay in wet clothes if you're going to be a brat about it,"
Chi-Chi pushed past the frozen girl with a suitcase in hand. "Those men are waiting at the roof so we can leave,"
Bulma stared in disbelief at her retreating back.
She was extremely uncomfortable at the intense once-over Vegeta was giving her from above the giant hole in the roof. The second he had spotted her, his cranky countenance got crankier, especially after his first glimpse of her clothes.
Bulma watched Kakarot pull Chi-Chi up to the roof and wondered if she should extend her arms up to the angry alien like a baby demanding to be picked up.
Bulma gnawed on her bottom lip and glanced down at herself.
Long nun-skirt? Check.
Unflattering beige top? Check.
She had ditched her bra, which felt awkward on her skin while damp. Besides, the shirt was frumpy enough to go without a bra.
A tan arm shot down through the hole. She looked up at it and saw it was Kakarot. Bulma squashed the feeling of disappointment in her gut and grabbed his hand. He effortlessly hauled her up and steadied her once her feet settled on the cobblestone roof.
"Alright. We're good to go," Kakarot beamed at the girls and turned to look at Vegeta. "I'll carry Chi-Chi,"
Bulma's temper flared when she saw the prince roll his eyes and grimace. Without looking at her, he grabbed her elbow and dragged her to him. She felt a wicked case of vertigo when he whipped her up and into his arms. Bulma watched gloomily when Kakarot gently put Chi-Chi into his arms, much to Chi-Chi's red-faced delight.
Bulma scowled.
Kakarot tilted his head up and inhaled. "I can smell your house, Bulma. It's not too far from where we found you," He smiled encouragingly at her. "Maybe we'll be able to find one those capsules you were talking about."
With that, they took off.
The entire time, Bulma watched Chi-Chi and Itch, who had woken up some time around breakfast, battle for Kakarot's affection in an all-out battle of hissing and clawing. Both girl and cat did remarkably well, much to the Saiyan's discomfort. Bulma actively tried to ignore the heated look she was getting from Vegeta. What was his problem? It was like he was burning a hole through her top or something. Ever since she had changed out of her earlier clothes...she twisted her lips in thought.
Bulma dared a peek at him. Vegeta wasn't facing her (probably turned his head right before she turned hers, that loser, she thought smugly), though a muscle in his jaw twitched when she began staring at him. "Hey you," She poked an unpainted nail at his plated chest. When all she got in response was a frown, she squirmed in his arms. "Do you like my outfit so much that you can't keep your eyes off of me?"
"Hn. Hardly,"
Her playful smile wilted. Bulma knitted her brow and poked him harder. "Hey! I'll have you know that a girl as gorgeous as me can make anything look good," She rolled up her sleeves and tugged the neck of the wooly blouse down. When she saw him following the expanse of skin she was exposing, she smirked. "All you need is a little confidence,"
If it was possible, his frown deepened.
"Uh," Kakarot crumpled his forehead. Cue standard back-of-the-head scratching. "I'm sure it was beautiful before Tollsha and Zibeth wrecked it,"
"It was," Bulma gritted out.
"Looks like a complete shit hole now," Vegeta snorted. He idly toed blocks of rubble. "What are we looking for?"
Bulma glowered. "My home is not a shit hole, you jerk,"
Vegeta gave her a mocking sneer and flipped her off.
The girl genius squatted and nudged some scraps of metal away. She plucked a block of plaster and chucked it at his spiky head, pouting when it flew past his shoulder. Vegeta wasn't throwing a hissy fit, which Bulma took as a sign that a) he was already falling madly in love with her and found her violent attacks adorable, or b) he was growing a tolerance for her.
Though it was probably the former, because a little while after, Vegeta had toed her butt and sent her flying into debris.
It looked like bits of her lab, she noted with chagrin. Bulma ignored the bruises beginning to form on her body from being kicked into the ruins of her home. "We're looking for a capsule. It's a white palm-sized tube with a color strip around the middle," Bulma batted away a couple more scraps of charred metal.
The taller Saiyan squatted down with her and lifted the heavier bits and pieces of her home. She didn't want to look at the sympathetic smile on his face. It made her throat tighten and her chest hurt. Chi-Chi and Vegeta stood off to the side; the former frowning at the wreckage and the latter looking impatient.
Suddenly, Bulma was outrageously bent on finding a Capsule house, just so she could wipe that disbelieving look off of Vegeta's stupid face. She furrowed her teal brows, blue eyes straining to catch a glimpse of at least one capsule. Maybe then, if the Saiyans were even a smidgeon civilized, she could rebuild her life and adapt as a scientist and not a concubine.
She feverishly shoved at the ruins of what was once Earth's wealthiest compound. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt her eyes stinging and her hands bleeding. All she saw was a dismembered hand with polished nails, shredded small intestines, broken teeth, broken glasses, and a handful of torn hair the color of unripened strawberries.
God, and so many bugs.
Capsules. She needed a capsule.
"Bulma," Chi-Chi snatched Bulma's wrist and hauled the older girl up with strength that really shouldn't have surprised Bulma. Bulma felt warm, dry hands holding hers, which she distantly felt stinging. When she refocused her eyes on her hands in Chi-Chi's tanner, calloused hands, she saw glass splinters jutting out of her fingers, summoning an unsteady drip of blood.
Bugs. So many bugs.
"Here. I carry alcoholic wipes with me in case somebody decides to be clumsy. Honestly, you could have been more careful," Chi-Chi picked the glass out with the wipe around her fingers. She swiped roughly at the cuts on Bulma's hands and whipped a roll of bandages out. She expertly wrapped Bulma's hands, all the while loudly snapping about how irresponsible the former heiress was.
"This is a capsule?" A disdainful voice said.
Both girls turned around to look at the Saiyan aristocrat pinching a dirty white tube with a bright yellow band circling the middle. Kakarot poked his head out of a deep pile of rubble and phased in front of Vegeta.
"Is that it?" He asked excitedly, and crowded the older Saiyan, who shoved Kakarot out of his personal space.
"That's it," Bulma said blankly, absentmindedly tugging at her bandages.
Vegeta scrutinized the tube between his gloved fingers. The top looked like a button of sorts. He applied light pressure to the button with his thumb.
POOF!
He flung the exploding capsule with a start. Both Vegeta and Kakarot took on fighting stances at the yellow smoke.
"It's...it's a rice cooker,"
Pause.
"My mom made my dad design it," Bulma chewed on her bottom lip in a daze.
"Wow," Kakarot breathed. "You fit that rice cooker into that little tube? That's incredible,"
"Of all the capsules to survive on Earth," Chi-Chi said sagely. "It had to be the rice cooker,"
Vegeta was silent. Bulma looked at him from the corner of his eye and saw that he was deep in thought. He was burning holes into the rice cooker, and the second he felt her eyes on him, he flickered his smoldering gaze on her.
Bulma tried to tamp down the butterflies rioting in her tummy to no avail. God, those fucking eyes. Subconsciously, she licked her bottom lip and noticed with an influx of fluttery metaphoric insects in her gut that he followed her tongue, eyeing her mouth for a little longer than what was considered polite. She was becoming downright uncomfortable with his intensity.
For the first time (probably), Bulma Briefs backed down. Her discomfort and her pink cheeks forced her to look away, even though her instincts screamed at her to hold eye-contact until Vegeta broke it off first.
"Impressive," A husky voice dryly remarked from behind her. Bulma jolted, spine stiffening. When had he covered the distance between them so quickly and quietly? Vegeta was right behind her, hot breath summoning goosebumps from her pearly white neck. "Humans have advanced to stowing cooking utensils into capsules,"
"Aw, Vegeta," Kakarot tutted. "It's no house, but this kind of technology is remarkable. Dad would be thrilled if he could get his hands on this type of thing,"
Vegeta screwed his mouth back into a frown, eyes narrowing to slits. "What are you suggesting?"
"Maybe Bulma can help. She could be a scientist or something. We could use all the help we can get,"
"Hn. A woman like this one wouldn't be capable of aiding Bardock in any scientific innovation,"
"Do I have to remind you again who aided increating one of the greatest scientific innovations of all time? Capsule technology is the biggest breakthrough in technology since cellphones! Don't you dare tell me what I am and what I am not capable of. You have no idea who I am," Bulma said hotly, scathingly glaring at Vegeta. Her fists were tightly balled at her side, blue eyes flashing.
"I shouldn't have to remind you, human," Vegeta hissed, advancing with his shoulders squared menacingly. "That I am the Prince of all Saiyans, and nobody, especially a lowly human bitch, will speak to me with such disrespect,"
"'Lowly human bitch'?" Bulma growled, rage building up with each word.
"I do not stutter," Vegeta grinned cruelly at the shade of red her face was taking. "Bitch,"
Oh, how she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to wring his little neck, stomp on his dweeby head, and tear his entrails out with her bare hands.
"You..." Bulma shook, teeth grinding. She screamed. "You heartless, insensitive monkey bastard! You're so...so mean. Does it mean anything to you that I am one of the only kind of my race? Do you know how it feels to be completely alone in the universe? To have everybody you know and love dead? Murdered? To have your entire race gone? Do you have any idea how that feels?" She exhaled harshly, chest heaving and eyes burning. Bulma turned her head up to force the tears back into her tear ducts. With watery blue eyes she stared Vegeta dead in the eye.
Agony. Her soul was in agony. "Lonely," She answered softly. "It's so lonely,"
Bulma caught the stunned look on his face for a millisecond before he regained composure. A cold smile curled his lip up. "I don't care about your feelings. It's a blessing that a race as idiotic as yours is gone,"
"Chi-Chi!"
Vegeta felt the small spark in the other girl's ki and easily dodged the kick aimed at his head. Kakarot had her trapped under the arms. Chi-Chi viciously lashed out, black eyes blazing and fists up. She kicked and screamed, "Don't touch me! Let me show him how idiotic our race is! You fucker! - UGH! LET ME GO! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"
"Chi-Chi, calm down, please!" Kakarot soothed nervously. His head swerved when her leg shot up and almost hit him in the face.
The Prince watched her squirm and roar in Kakarot's arms and shook his head mockingly. "Humans,"
Bulma's stomach felt empty. How could he just disregard her like that? His dark eyes had been icy and uncaring. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't give a hoot about her. Vegeta, honest to God, did not care. He offered zero empathy for her situation, despite the implication that he had been in the same situation with other aliens.
She watched him now, lips slightly parted. He was amused by the fact that Chi-Chi wanted to kill him. And from the determination bleeding from her face, she wasn't kidding. Yet there he was, almost smiling at her death threats.
Cold heaviness settled uneasily in Bulma's gut. Vegeta radiated power and strength. Consciously or not, he was always in warrior form; legs shoulder width apart and muscles flexed. But he was beyond a warrior, she slowly realized. Bulma felt numb all over when a distant thought struck her brain.
Vegeta works for the same organization as the aliens who killed everybody on Earth.
Vegeta has done the same thing to other planets. He has committed genocide - he's made species and races go instinct.
He's just like them.
Bulma forced her head to look at Kakarot; sweet and goofy ol' Kakarot was a murderer.
They weren't warriors. They were killers.
Her blood froze in her veins. Yet there she was, frolicking with these monsters, trusting them, even. They would take her and Chi-Chi to a new planet. They would keep them safe. They would be with her.
Bulma's stomach heaved.
How stupid had she been to think that she wouldn't be alone anymore.
A/N:
Aw, shit. Vegeta's kind of a really fucking hard character to write. Some write him as more stoic and cold, while others make him passionate and raging. I'm trying to find a happy medium between the two. He won't be as emotionally traumatized, since Frieza hasn't gotten his hands on him yet and the Saiyans are all still alive.
And I feel like Bulma is a little less bossy and mouthy here, just because I feel like she would be wimpier if she hadn't met Goku. In this AU, she meets him three years later than in canon. Also, everybody she knows and loves is dead, so I feel like that may or may not count for something.
Just Saiyan. (lolololol Pun! Boom. Roasted. I am great.)
Though I suppose I can't apologize for writing non-original characters OOC because they're not mine and no fanfiction can ever be 100% IC (unless, say, Akira Toriyama was secretly writing them under the pen name of LunarGoddessSakura96.)
...You know too much.
This plot has more holes than the moon and it's pretty awful, but I'm not giving up on writing this. This will be completed! If I want to advance in writing, then I will keep writing.
Practice makes perfect, and this will be far from perfect, like every work I have ever written, am writing, or will write.
Oh well.
Happy reading and expect the next chapter to be written and published by October 22, 2011.
~Pony.