C'mon now ...do I really need to mention this fic does not follow cannon and deviates...? Fan fiction.
.III
Bulma picked at her tiny garden sandwich with no signs of her usual appetite. She could almost feel her mother frown at her behind her back.
"Dear?" The blond chirped, standing behind her as she poured her daughter yet another cup of tea.
Bulma pushed aside her two untouched tea cups and made room for the third one without so much as a sigh.
Dr. Briefs looked up from his latest schematics to pick up one of the tea cups absently. Bulma watched as her father took a sip, then frowned. "My tea is cold." He said with a confused look.
Bulma shrugged. "That was my tea, Dad. Yours is over there."
Her father nodded, picked up his own tea cup and went back to reading over his notes on one of his newer projects not bothering to ask why her daughter had three tea cups. "Darling, I need your thoughts on these power sequences."
"And I want to thank you, Bulma. Those household cleaning-bots are working perfectly again!" The doctor's wife chimed in.
"I didn't fix them." Her daughter sighed, staring off at the huge round object on the spacious grounds of their home. "I told you that last week. And the week before."
Dr. Briefs held up some schematics. "The power sequences?"
The blond scratched her forehead in a charming move and beamed. "But your father says he didn't fix the cleaning-bots, so it had to be you, darling!"
Bulma sighed and stared at the gravity chamber that currently held her ...her ...she frowned. Not husband, no she wouldn't accept that. Her nemesis perhaps?
"Dad? What do you know about divorce law?" The turquoise-haired young woman mused aloud.
But Dr. Briefs was currently distracted. "The fluctuations in power ramp-up on these two sequences is just one mili-secs off and I can't configure the next phase until the ratio is correct!"
"Divorce law?" The blond frowned prettily. "Who's getting divorced, dear? It's too bad the couple can't make it work. Perhaps you should counsel them." She looked over at her husband. "Invite them to dinner. We could make a party! Hang mistletoe in the doorways so they have to kiss every few steps!" She clapped her hands in delight. "That'll end the divorce talk!"
Bulma sank lower into her seat and gritted her teeth. "It's summer, mother. We don't need mistletoe."
The blond pouted a moment. "But what other flowers could we hang to make them kiss and make up? Daisies? They're always so fresh and sweet looking!"
"No, daisies won't fix the sequencing problem." Dr. Briefs muttered, then realized what he'd said and shook his head as if slightly baffled about why he'd been thinking about flowers in the first place.
Bulma glared at the gravity chamber her father had built per Vegeta's instructions. Two weeks. Two weeks he'd been training nearly non-stop, only coming out for brief visits to eat.
In those brief times he'd glare at her and she'd glare at him. Then he'd ask her if she knew if she was pregnant yet. She would snap at him and then he'd ask if she'd figured out a way to divorce him yet. That's when he'd smirk, slap her on the ass and go back to training. It was enough to drive any woman insane.
She should never have told him she wanted a divorce. Bulma had figured that even if she had stumbled her away into the Saiyan mating ritual, leaving her married ...there had to be a way to divest herself of her new mate.
Only, he wasn't cooperating. No. Instead he was furious she even wanted out of the relationship and refused to listen to logic or reason. He'd ignored her pleas to explain Saiyan divorce proceedings and announced that since she found the mating rites on her own, she could find the dissolution rites on her own.
"I hear growling." Bulma's mother gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "I wonder if a fox got onto the grounds. They are so pretty, but scary!"
Bulma managed to stop growling, but didn't disabuse her mother of the idea of a random animal on the grounds. It was better than having to explain why she was growling in the first place.
"They're not scary at all." The masculine voice coming from behind her froze Bulma in place.
Dr. Briefs looked up and smiled absently. "Yamcha, it's been a while."
Bulma felt the blush gracing her cheeks. A bit of the panic she'd been living with for the past two weeks started to fade.
"Would you like some tea?" Bulma's mother started to pour, and then frowned. "Oh dear, I'm out of tea!"
"Come on darling, let's leave these two out here alone." Dr. Briefs gathered up his notes and herded his wife back into the house.
Neither Bulma nor Yamcha said a word as the duo left them alone. Then the silence continued. Finally, Yamcha pulled out the chair vacated by her father and sat. "You going to look at me?"
Bulma cut her blue eyes over at the young man.
"I'm sorry." They both spoke at once, then stopped, embarrassed.
Bulma cleared her throat. "What are you sorry about?"
Yamcha shrugged. "I was giving you a hard time about that stupid dream you had. I deliberately tried to embarrass you in front of that jerk, and ..." He ran one hand through his hair. His shorter hair.
"Nice hair cut." She muttered.
"You kissed him." Yamcha said quietly.
Bulma blushed deeper. "He kissed me, actually." And it hadn't stopped there.
"We weren't together, really." The former-bandit offered her the out.
"I still shouldn't have let him." Bulma acknowledged.
Yamcha looked around. "He threatened to kill me. Made it sound like he owned you because of one kiss."
Bulma's face heated up and the blush went all the way down to her collarbone.
The young man gritted his teeth. "Not just one kiss, then." It was a statement, not a question.
She looked away toward the gravity chamber. "He says we're married now."
Yamcha nearly fell out, his jaw dropping nearly to his knees. "M...m...married?"
"In the Saiyan custom. I didn't know that was what was happening." Bulma couldn't meet his eyes.
Her long-time off and on again boyfriend compressed his lips together for a long moment, then shook his head. "Did you sleep with him?"
Many times. But she didn't say it aloud. But the lack of a denial spoke volumes.
Yamcha stood up and shook himself off. "So. I guess there's nothing more to say."
"I'm looking for a way to end the Saiyan marriage." Bulma said softly. "There's got to be a way to get divorced."
The young man nodded. "But ...that doesn't mean we'll ever be the same."
Bulma finally looked at him. "All of this only shows us that it was time for us to move on, both of us." She took a deep breath. "We've been more off again than on again for a long time now."
"I never kissed another woman." He slipped the verbal dagger in with a cynical twist of his mouth.
An irritating buzz in the air made Bulma wave one hand in front of her face, she didn't like bugs. "I know that, Yamcha."
"I brought some more tea my dears!" Bulma's mother fairly glided over the ground with a tray of freshly made tea. "And I have cookies!"
"No, thank you mother." The young woman sighed. She'd not had much of an appetite lately at all. And every morning she'd wake up afraid that she would be getting morning sickness. Luckily, nothing yet.
"I'd love a cookie!" Yamcha smiled brightly, making Bulma groan and sink lower in her seat.
More buzzing, only this time louder, made her frown. It almost sounded mechanical.
"Yamcha? Did you fix my cleaning-bots? No one will admit that they were the clever one to fix them!" The blond asked almost breathlessly. "You are such a good boy to fix them for me!"
Bulma only half-way listened to her former boy-friend explain how he'd not been the one to fix those bots her mother kept on and on about.
"There was nothing wrong with them." Dr. Briefs finally arrived to join the group, beaming paternally at everyone around him. "I looked over those cleaning-bots and they were fine."
Blue eyes focused on the dratted gravity chamber where Vegeta was training. Was the buzz coming from over there? She frowned, well used to diagnosing many mechanical problems from sound alone. And this buzzing was quite unpleasant, and growing louder.
"Do you hear that?" She asked her father.
"Yes." Dr. Briefs frowned. "Your mother won't admit there was nothing wrong with my cleaning-bots."
Yamcha smiled sadly and ate his cookie. He'd heard many such non-arguments over the years. He'd always enjoyed Bulma's parents. "What was wrong with them?" He asked the bubbly, if clueless, blond.
Bulma's mother smiled at him and patted Yamcha on the shoulder. "Thank you for asking, dear boy. Well, it's simple. They were picking up Vegeta's dirty laundry and dropping it all over Bulma's bedroom. You won't believe where they put his boots!"
Yamcha froze.
Bulma froze.
Dr. Briefs frowned in confusion, then looked at his daughter while his eyes narrowed slightly with shock.
Bulma gave her father an embarrassed smile, mortified right down to the marrow in her bones.
Yamcha sighed and never really knew why he rescued her. "It's okay, they're married now."
Dr. Briefs' eyes went wide, then he smiled even as his pretty wife started jumping up and down clapping her hands and babbling on about needing to throw a party.
Bulma gave a weak smile and seeing the happy look on her parent's faces, couldn't bring to tell them all it had been a huge mistake.
A large clanking sound of metal grinding on metal ripped through the air. Bulma and her father immediately frowned. Yamcha looked around, confused. While Bulma's mother was still nattering on about color schemes for the party as well as daisies and kissing.
A small popping sound and the whiff of scorched metal had Bulma moving before she even thought about it. Yamcha was on her heels, both of them racing toward the gravity chamber.
"What is that thing?" He yelled.
Bulma felt her heart beating and could just about hear the roaring of her own blood as she ran. "Training room that Vegeta had dad make! He's been overusing it! I told him he needed to take more breaks!"
"Told him or yelled at him?" Yamcha couldn't help the bite behind his laugh.
"Very funny! It's sounding like it could expl..." With that she screamed and ducked, Yamcha following suit as the gravity chamber simple exploded.
"No, no, no, no!" Bulma looked up through watering eyes, the air had turned thick with smoke and debris and it was hard seeing what was going on. Sick to her stomach, she looked out over the smoldering piles of metal and electronics and felt like crying.
"Seems you won't need a divorce after all." Yamcha started to smile, then grimaced as she grabbed his ear and gave it a vicious twist. "Hey, it's dark humor, I'm sure he's fine!"
Bulma, her heart pounding, wasn't laughing. She fell to her knees as another small explosion blew more chunks of debris every which way. "Vegeta ..." Her voice trailed off in a broken whisper.
Yamcha looked at her and saw the anguish in her eyes and swallowed hard. Whatever the thing between her and the Saiyan, mistake or not, he was sure she cared. Even if she didn't know it herself, he himself could see it in her. "Bulma." He reached for her.
But she didn't notice. Yamcha's hand fell to his side as she ran forward, looking around frantically. A large piece of something no longer identifiable slid down with a rasping, grating sound. Bulma spun to look hopefully, but could see no signs of life.
"Vegeta?"
Yamcha sneered to disguise how hurtful it was to hear that note of longing in her voice. A note that he'd not heard for a long time now. Maybe she had been right and they'd been over as a couple long ago, but where both just too stubborn to admit it.
A strong arm suddenly punched upwards through the debris.
Bulma caught her breath and rushed forwards, only to yell out in shock as suddenly Vegeta rose from out of the destruction surrounding him. He was bruised, battered and bleeding. Even Yamcha winced when he caught site of how badly the Saiyan looked.
Bulma blanched at all the bloody cuts and how Vegeta was staggering, not able to keep his balance very well. He looked dazed. She rushed toward him, but he held up one hand to stop her.
She glared.
Vegeta sneered. "I don't need help, woman."
Bulma yelped as he swayed, then caught his balance. He frowned at her again, she frowned right back at him. "Don't be an idiot!" She screeched.
Vegeta winced and shook his head, swaying and then stumbling before falling onto his back. "I said I don't need your help!" He protested in vain.
But Bulma would not be deterred as she raced up to him, running her hands over his bare chest and looking to see how badly each wound was bleeding.
Yamcha watched as his former girl-friend cradled the Saiyan's dark head in her lap, touching him tenderly as she tended to the wounded man. Looking away, he spotted Dr. Briefs and several Capsule Corps employees rushing over to help.
Fine. Yamcha waved at them, to show them where to come to help. Then he took off. He'd always care for Bulma, and he'd always be her friend. But there was no need to watch her falling in love with someone else. That was just a bit too much.
"Yamcha." Bulma watched the young Z fighter fly away sorrowfully, though she understood.
The name she spoke though, made the man in her lap growl and struggle to get up. "Is that weakling here? I thought I told him I'd kill him if he came around here again!"
Bulma smacked him on the chest, then winced as he groaned in pain. "Oh Vegeta! I'm so sorry! You just make me so angry sometimes!"
"I make YOU angry?" He groused.
"Yes! You are arrogant and selfish and you are so stubborn that I could just scream!" Bulma complained, even as she carefully wiped blood away from his eyes.
"And you're idiotic, silly, and you think you'll always get your own way you stupid, gorgeous woman!" Vegeta hissed.
"Silly? I am not silly!" Bulma yelled, then the word clicked. Gorgeous? "Vegeta?" She shook him, but the big bad man was out cold. She burned with rage and something else, something she couldn't name. He'd called her idiotic and silly, but he'd also called her gorgeous. And then he had to pass out! It wasn't fair!
Had he meant any of it? Could Saiyans even get concussions?
.III
Vegeta came out of it slowly, as if in a fog. He blinked up at the ceiling in confusion. For a moment he wondered if he was back on a spaceship heading somewhere that Frieza had ordered for him to destroy.
Pain. The Saiyan frowned, deliberately pushing the pain aside. Pain was nothing to a warrior. He turned his head one way and saw the back of someone working on some computer. She had turquoise hair.
Click.
"Woman."
Her fingers stopped typing. Blue eyes turned to look at him. He watched as she looked him up and down, then her gaze finally met his.
"So. You didn't manage to commit suicide after all." She said tartly.
Vegeta frowned, but didn't answer directly. He looked up toward the ceiling. "Why are there daisies over my bed?"
Bulma muttered something strange about her mother, then stopped. "Never mind that. Are you so in love with me that my rejection has you training beyond the abilities of your own body? Training beyond the ability of your facilities. You just about train until you die." She sounded quite ill with him.
The Saiyan smiled. "I would never die outside of battle."
She grunted softly and shook her head. "You're missing the point."
Vegeta struggled to sit up, gritting his teeth to ignore the pain. "No, woman. The point is I'm not dead, and this will only make me stronger."
"I won't need a divorce if you make me a widow." She said almost softly.
He frowned. More divorce talk. He didn't like that. "I thought that's what you wanted."
"If you die, who will save Earth? Goku? I thought you wouldn't want to leave it for someone else to get the glory."
Vegeta stared at her for a long moment. "His name is Kakarot. And don't bait me, woman."
"So. You'd let Goku get all the glory?" She smiled sadly at him.
"NEVER!"
Bulma nodded. "Good to hear. Now, here are the rules. You don't get to kill yourself."
Vegeta grunted. "That's your first rule? Well mine is that we're married. Get used to it."
She frowned at him, he wasn't supposed to insert his own rules! She coughed. "No, rule number two is that you have to date me."
"DATE?" Vegeta roared, then winced as he coughed harshly. Finally he stopped long enough to glare at her. "Why do I need to date my own wife?"
She blushed as she continued. "No more sex until we're married."
Vegeta frowned sharply. "We are married."
"The Saiyan way. I mean an Earth wedding." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "And I've not agreed to marry you."
"We. Are. Married. You. Silly. Woman." He ground the words out with total deliberation.
Bulma threw her hands in the air, frustrated. "You are too stubborn for words. I should have let you die out there."
He grinned. "See? I knew you'd eventually figure out how to get a divorce the Saiyan way."
"Dying?" Bulma glared at him, still remembering her panic when the gravity chamber had exploded. "That's not funny. And I'm not kidding about these rules."
"I'm not going to date my own wife." Vegeta told her bluntly. "And no more sex? I will not accept that rule."
Bulma shook her head at him. "You have to give me something here, you stupid Prince."
Vegeta eyed her cautiously, perhaps he had pushed her too far. "I'll let you name the baby."
The young woman growled. "How big of you. Do you mean the baby I'm not even carrying?"
"You could be." He pointed out reasonably. Vegeta just didn't bother to tell her that Saiyan women always had naming privileges. "You could be."
Bulma sighed with frustration once more, worried he might be right.
.III
Well, I do so hope you're still enjoying my foray into DBZ. This couple has always, always fascinated me.
p.s. Vegeta did call Bulma 'gorgeous' while they were on Namek, though not to her face.