Sabotage

Nappa followed Raditz out of the kitchen one morning after they were finished eating breakfast and laid his hand on his shoulder to stop him before he could leave to go train with Kakarrot. Silently, he gestured for Raditz to follow him upstairs where they would have privacy from the Briefs and Vegeta. Once they were in his guestroom and the door was closed, Nappa crossed his arms over his chest and started pacing back and forth.

"What's going on?" Raditz asked after few minutes ticked by with no explanation. His eyes followed the elite saiyan as he restlessly went from one side of the room to the other, clearly agitated about something.

Nappa paused and rubbed his bald head. "It's about Vegeta—"

"It's always about Vegeta," Raditz cut in.

The older saiyan grunted and resumed pacing. "Yes, but this time it's about him and the girl, Bulma."

Raditz raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"Are you that blind?" Nappa snapped. He sighed and stopped in front of the balcony doors, looking out at the bleak winter day. There was no snow to hide the dead grass and the sky was a cloudy gray with no hope of sunshine breaking through. The large saiyan dropped his arms to his sides, his hands clenched into fists. "Would you say Vegeta is more protective or possessive over her?"

The long-haired saiyan shrugged and sat backwards in the chair at the desk, resting his arms on the back with his chin on top. Protective or possessive, what was the difference? Both were innately part of a saiyan's nature. "He's both."

Rolling his eyes, Nappa turned away from the balcony and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed again. "Is it being protective or possessive when he does everything in his power to keep the girl from seeing that idiot weakling?"

Raditz scrunched his brow as he considered that. Vegeta's irritation when Yamcha came around to visit Bulma had grown increasingly obvious over the past month. "Possessive."

Nappa grunted. Neither said anything else for a few moments, both sorting through their own thoughts on the matter. Finally, Nappa asked the question that revealed his true motive for pulling Raditz aside in private to talk. "Do you think they would be good mates?"

"Would they – would they what?" Raditz shook his head, flabbergasted. He hadn't really seen that question coming.

"Think about it!"

"Well," he mumbled, "they both have beastly tempers." He laughed thinking about all the times they lost their tempers with each other. They would fight, scream, and hurl insults as if their lives depended on it. Prideful, they wouldn't back down no matter who was in the wrong. The girl, though pathetically weak by comparison, was a fighter, both physically and mentally. She could push Vegeta to his breaking point faster than anyone he knew, yet somehow she was still alive.

Their personalities, so similar, were compatible but still abrasive enough they would never get bored with each other. He would die to protect her, and she would do everything she could to take care of him, especially when he wouldn't care for himself. And that made it obvious that they cared for each other on a deep level quite unlike the way they cared for anyone else. If there was one prime example of Vegeta doing anything for her, it was giving up his wish with the dragon balls so she could have her idiot fiancé back. And Bulma, she invited him back into her home after she knew he was at least in part responsible for her fiancé in the first place.

Raditz shook his head again. "It doesn't matter if they would be good mates. She's still a human, and he's the saiyan prince."

Nappa shrugged one shoulder. "Where was it ever written that a saiyan prince couldn't marry someone from another race?"

"Well, uh…" Raditz scratched his head and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere?"

The elder saiyan nodded and pushed away from the wall to resume pacing. "There was no law against it. They just never did because, well, it's always been thought that saiyans are superior. And they were. But damnit, Raditz, the saiyan race is gone." He sighed heavily and sank down on his bed. He frowned at the floor. Remembering his beloved race and culture was never easy for him. More than the others he missed it because he was the only one who truly knew it, who lived in it, helped build it. "He would be happy with her. There's no saiyan females for him to mate with. There's no way to save our race. He might as well take a mate here. At least we know humans and saiyans are compatible. Kakarrot proved that."

"You're right," Raditz conceded. "But what do we do about it? There's still the small problem of Bulma already having a fiancé. And you know she'll only want someone who will give her that ridiculous human sentiment."

"Love?" Nappa snorted. "Humans don't know shit about love."

"And I suppose saiyans do?"

Nappa smirked at the younger saiyan. "You know why there's no word for 'love' in Saiya-go? Because it's too damn complicated for one word. You know those other words we threw around all the time, protective, possessive, caring, attraction, all that? Each one of those is only a small part of love."

"So you're saying Vegeta loves Bulma?"

"To put it in weak human terms, yes." Nappa stood up again and paced a few more times, his brows lowered as he concentrated on his thoughts. "He just doesn't know it yet. And neither does she. So we just have to make them see."

"How?"

"Use your brain, Raditz," Nappa growled. "The main problem here is that idiot Yamcha guy. Without him in the picture, they'll realize their feelings for each other on their own."

Raditz laughed. "So we just get rid of him!"

"It's not that easy," Nappa said. "We can't kill him – again. We'll have to be a little more subtle than that."

"Alright, fine," Raditz agreed. "So, what do we do first?"

…

Bulma propped up her feet on her oversized desk and rubbed a smudge off her black patent high heel. She reclined back in her chair with her arms crossed behind her head and looked up at the ceiling. The board meeting went well that morning, so she felt justified in taking the rest of the day off. She considered calling Yamcha and asking him if he wanted to do something that afternoon.

The past few weeks had been great. She was spending more time with Yamcha and actually enjoying it again. She laughed at herself when she thought about the reason she hadn't been so happy to see him after he was revived. Feelings for Vegeta, of all people, how absurd. Of course she loved him, but it wasn't a romantic love. No way. He was her big brother, the pain in her ass who kept breaking things, demanding replacements and upgrades, and generally being disagreeable. How could she ever want to be romantically involved with that? Vegeta wasn't dating material. If anything, the feelings she thought she had for him were built on loneliness and availability while Yamcha was still dead. Well, now that her fiancé was back, she could move on from her silly crush and rethink her relationship with Yamcha.

To be honest, though, she still wasn't sure she wanted to marry Yamcha anytime soon. While he was away, she had the opportunity to think about that commitment. Why did she want to get married so badly anyway? Even as a girl she had never been one to dream of her prince charming who would sweep her off her feet and marry her. Sure, she liked cute boys, but not because she wanted to marry them. When did that change? When Goku and Chi-Chi got married. Of course she wanted to get married someday, but why rush it? There were still many adventures to go on before being tied down with a family. She already had a demanding career, why add a husband and kids to the mix?

Because, she could hear her mother saying, getting married and raising children was life's greatest and most fulfilling adventure. Bulma snorted. Maybe before the Women's Rights Movement. She wasn't even 30 years old yet, there was still plenty of time for her to worry about getting married. If Yamcha couldn't understand that, then he would either have to take a hike or wait for her to be ready.

Dismissing those thoughts, Bulma picked her cell phone up from her desk and dialed Yamcha's number. She only had to wait through two rings for him to pick up.

"Hey, babe, what's up?"

"Hey, Yam." Bulma grinned and spun around in her chair. "I'm taking the rest of the day off. I was wondering if you wanted to do something."

"Sure, B. You have anything in mind?"

She shrugged, though he couldn't see it. "It's too cold to do anything outdoors. Why don't we just go to the mall or something?"

"Sure. You want to meet there or should I pick you up?"

"I think I'll go home and change into something more casual. Why don't you pick me up in an hour?"

"You got it. See you soon."

"Alright. Love you."

"Love you too."

Bulma hung up and set her phone on the desk while she gathered some files in her briefcase so she wouldn't have to come back to headquarters for a few days. Standing up, she grabbed her winter coat from the back of her chair and pulled it on to cover her business suit. As she walked around her desk she picked up her briefcase and cell phone and headed over to the elevator, tapping her toe impatiently when she had to wait for the doors to slide open.

When she made it outside, she started shivering almost immediately. She was wearing her winter coat, but she was also wearing a skirt that only went to her knees and her legs were only covered by sheer tights. In an effort to get out of the cold wind of winter, she ran to the curb and threw her hovercar capsule on the ground before hurriedly getting in the driver's seat and slamming the door closed. She rubbed her hands together for a few seconds before starting the engine, turning the heat up, and driving back to the compound.

Once home, Bulma went inside, bypassing the kitchen even though she hadn't had lunch yet, and headed upstairs to her bedroom to change her clothes. She closed her door behind her and took off her coat and suit jacket as she crossed her room, tossing them carelessly on her bed. She unzipped her skirt and wiggled her hips until it slid off on its own while she unbuttoned her blouse and threw on her bed along with her jacket. Finally, she sat on the bed and tugged her tights off. 'Freedom!' she thought as she threw them on the floor. 'Now what should I wear?'

She stood up again and went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of dark skinny jeans and a black camisole, then went over to her closet and picked a black sweater tunic with a cowl neck and waist belt. After dressing, she put on socks and a pair of black leather boots to complete her outfit. Casual, but still stylish, she smiled at herself as she looked herself over in her mirror. The last act before going back downstairs for a light lunch was taking her hair out of a bun to let it cascade over her shoulders.

By the time she reached the kitchen, the saiyans – including Raditz, which was strange – were finishing their lunch and getting ready to go back to training. "Hey guys," she said as she walked over to the refrigerator to get a drink before coming over to sit at the table.

The saiyans watched her closely, the only sound heard was her heels clicking on the tile. Bulma didn't notice that she had their full attention; she was used to their silence when they were eating. She sat down at the table and started making a sandwich for herself. "So the meeting went really well this morning," she told her mother. "We got a higher budget approved for the medical department and we're going to expand automotives."

"That's wonderful, dear," Mrs. Brief said. "I take it you're going out to celebrate?"

Bulma nodded. "Yeah, me and Yamcha are going to go hang out at the mall or something. It'll be fun." She paused to take a bite of her sandwich.

"Oh, with Yamcha," Mrs. Brief sighed. She forced her smile to return. "How nice, sweetie. Will you be back for dinner?"

"Yeah, I think so. Hey, can I ask him to eat with us?"

"I don't see why not." Mrs. Brief stood up, smoothing out her apron that wasn't actually wrinkled. "Well, I think I just heard the dryer stop. I'd better go take care of the laundry." She hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Bulma alone with the saiyans. She glanced over at them and shrugged at her mother's strange departure.

Nappa cleared his throat and stood up. "Hey, Vegeta, you up for a spar?"

The prince snorted as he, too, rose from his seat. "Are you up for a beating?" He smirked as he led the way out of the kitchen, his old bodyguard following behind and shooting another glance over his shoulder at Raditz.

Bulma swallowed another bite of her sandwich before looking over at Raditz. He was just sitting there, finished eating. "So, why are you here today? Didn't Goku want to train with you?"

"Actually Nappa wanted to spar with me this morning." Raditz sighed and pushed his plate aside so he could rest his arms on the table. "Bulma, I've been wanting to talk to someone about this. But it's kind of awkward for me and I don't know how to ask…"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Uh, sure, what is it?"

"Well, I've been thinking. I see Kakarrot and Chi-Chi's relationship, and it makes me wonder what this human emotion is they seem to share. He says it's love, but I never thought saiyans loved. So either it's something he had to learn or it's something we can feel, or do, and I just don't know what it is."

Bulma nearly spit out the drink of water she took. Raditz wanted to know about love? She didn't see that one coming! Gathering her thoughts, she paused to finish her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "Love…well, that's a tough one to explain. There's different kinds of love. Like between parents and children, and between lovers."

"Lovers?"

She blushed a little as she explained, "Yeah, people who are romantically involved. They go on dates and, er… kiss, and a lot of them get married."

"Oh." Raditz cocked his head to the side as he considered that. "So how are the loves different? Do they feel different or what?"

"Well, yeah." She sighed and raked her hand through her hair. "When you're in love with someone, you want to spend all your time with that person and you'll do about anything for them."

Raditz nodded. "You mean like how you are with Vegeta? I mean, you always work on his gravity room upgrades when you have other things to do and you seem to like seeing him."

Bulma coughed and stood up, carrying her plate to the sink to wash. "Er… well, that's different." She thought.

"How is that different?"

Evading his question, Bulma told him, "I mean like how I'm going out with Yamcha this afternoon just because."

"But—"

"And love also means you care for someone. Like how I cared enough to gather the dragon balls to revive Yamcha."

"Was it caring for Vegeta to let you have that wish?" Raditz asked, standing up to help her carry dishes to the sink.

She paused before slowly nodding. "Yeah, that was caring. Listen, I would love to talk about this some other time, but Yamcha's here and I need to go. Be careful when you train!" Bulma turned and almost ran out of the kitchen, eager to escape Raditz and his questions that made her question her own feelings. She thought she was over that already.

Raditz was still in the kitchen when Mrs. Brief came back in. He noticed she didn't smell like laundry detergent or dryer sheets, so she obviously hadn't been doing laundry. Mrs. Brief smiled when she saw him standing near the sink. "Oh, Mr. Raditz, you're still in here? I thought you would be out training with the other boys."

He shook his head. "No, I was talking to Bulma."

Mrs. Brief went over to the sink and started washing the dishes. "Oh, what about? I really wish she wouldn't go out with that young man. Don't misunderstand me, dear, he's a nice boy, but I think she could do so much better."

Raditz stared at the blonde woman. "Who would be better than him?"

She shrugged innocently and looked out the window over the sink. "I don't know. I always thought she and Vegeta would make a nice pair."

"You're probably right."

"Are you going back outside to train?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want to interrupt Vegeta's training, but could you tell him I was planning on going shopping in about half an hour?"

Raditz grunted as he crossed the kitchen to leave. He had more to report to Nappa about their matchmaking venture. It seemed they had an unexpected ally in Mrs. Brief. Perhaps Dr. Brief would also be on their side. He would have to find that out later if he could.

That evening, Bulma returned home with Yamcha half an hour before dinner. Yamcha went to sit in the kitchen and visit with her parents while she went to summon the saiyans for dinner and put her purchases in her bedroom.

"I hope you like pot roast," Mrs. Brief told her guest when she saw him come in.

Yamcha smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it's great, Mrs. Brief. I like anything you cook."

"Do you?" She giggled as she pulled the plates out of the cupboard to start setting the table. "I'm glad to hear that, dear. It's too bad Bulma never learned how to cook."

The scar-faced man practically leaped out of his seat to go help Mrs. Brief carry the dishes over to the table. "She's not that bad."

"No, I suppose you're right. As long as she's fixing one of three or four meals she can do well." Mrs. Brief shrugged and went back over to the oven to pull the food out.

Dr. Brief chuckled as he turned the page of his evening paper. "It has been a blessing having a wife with such extraordinary culinary skills. I can't imagine having to eat second-rate meals every day of my life."

"You mean like poor Dr. Bellah?" Mrs. Brief asked. "That man's wife is a terrible cook. I swear at every New Year's party he tells us he's thinking about divorcing her because of the food she gives him."

Yamcha rubbed the back of his neck as he sank back into his seat after setting the table. "That bad, huh?"

Dr. Brief turned the page of his newspaper, nodding sagely.

Mrs. Brief started bringing the food to the table as the saiyans started trudging into the kitchen, the two large saiyans looking much more bloodied and bruised than their prince. "Vegeta, sweetheart," Mrs. Brief said when she saw him, "How was your training this afternoon?"

"Fine."

"Hello, son," Dr. Brief greeted him. "How's the gravity room holding up?"

Vegeta sat down and waited for Mrs. Brief to pour him a drink. "Fine. I'll need another upgrade soon. I've reached 400Gs."

"My word, son!" Dr. Brief shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know how we're going to keep up with your progress."

"Hn."

Yamcha scooted his chair a bit farther from Vegeta, though there was another chair between them where Bulma would sit. He couldn't believe anyone could train in gravity that high. He'd thought 10 times Earth's gravity at King Kai's was intense.

"I'm still surprised Bulma took the afternoon off," Mrs. Brief continued chattering as she finished carrying the food to the table before sitting down. "She's always so busy, either with her work at Capsule Corporation or upgrading your gravity machine, Vegeta."

Dr. Brief nodded again. "She's this busy now, imagine how busy she'll be when she takes over the company. She'll probably work at least 12 hours a day. The girl's a workaholic. She loves working in her laboratory more than sleeping."

"You really think she'll work that much?" Yamcha asked. He didn't like the sound of that. He knew Bulma was dedicated to work, but he always imagined she would work regular eight-hour shifts and leave her business in the office when she came home. Would he ever even get to see her once they were married?

"I would be lying if I told you otherwise," Dr. Brief replied.

"Oh."

Bulma walked into the kitchen a moment later and took her seat at the table between Yamcha and Vegeta. "Sorry about the wait. I was putting away my new clothes."

"That's alright, dear," Mrs. Brief said.

"You bought more clothes, girl?" Vegeta asked with a sneer.

Bulma slapped his shoulder. "Shut up. I didn't get any for you so you have no right to complain."

"Hn."

Mrs. Brief started serving the food while Vegeta and Bulma continued bickering. At least, it continued until Vegeta started eating. The blonde woman giggled at their silly routine. They were so adorable together, why couldn't they see that?

Turning to her husband, she asked, "Sweetie, have you sent the invitations for the New Year's party?"

"Yes, dear. They went out last week."

"Oh, that reminds me. Would you three like to come to the party?" she asked, looking at the saiyans. "We'll have a buffet and there'll be music and dancing and it'll be lots of fun. I think we're going to have it in the ballroom this year."

While Nappa and Raditz looked to their prince for an answer, he simply shrugged one shoulder, which was as close to a yes while eating that anyone could hope for. Mrs. Brief squealed delightedly and clapped her hands together. "Oh, this is wonderful. I was so sorry when you missed it last year, but I know training comes first. You're all so hardworking."

Yamcha sat there, wondering how Mrs. Brief decoded that half-hearted shrug as an affirmative. Either she was an expert at reading saiyan body language or she was crazy. Either way, he was a little miffed that she hadn't included him in the invitation to the party. He had attended a few years in the past, but he didn't particularly enjoy the parties. He found himself surrounded by brilliant minds who only wanted to talk about business he couldn't understand, and there was never enough booze to make him feel less self-conscious around them. Besides, they were formal parties, and he didn't enjoy wearing a suit all night. Still, as Bulma's fiancé, shouldn't he be invited?

Bulma didn't seem to notice the oversight as she nudged Vegeta teasingly with her elbow. "I can't believe you're agreeing to go. You do know there'll be a lot of people there, don't you?"

He shifted his dark gaze to her for a moment before rolling his eyes, never saying a word. As if he didn't know what a party entailed. There was a reason he avoided it last year. The only reason he was going this year was so he could keep her away from the scar-faced weakling. Even if he didn't show up to the party, he wanted to be there to make sure her attention was on him.

Bulma shrugged. "Okay, just thought I'd warn you." Knowing Vegeta was going to be at the party excited her. She was a little apprehensive about seeing him behaving in a crowd of humans, but she figured he could control himself fairly well. It would be fun getting to spend the night with him, at least. He still rarely took a break from his training, so quality time spent with him was rare. She was beginning to wonder if his training obsession would lessen once Frieza was defeated. She hoped so. She dismissed that thought. All that mattered now was getting him something appropriate to wear to the party, and there were only had two days to do it.

…

Vegeta quirked an eyebrow at the garments the blue-haired girl gave him to wear to the stupid party. A pair of navy braided stripe slacks with a matching vest and jacket, a light blue dress shirt, and a blue necktie. She had to be crazy if she expected him to wear such a thing. He was a saiyan, not a human. But she insisted he not wear his armor. Growling, he threw the suit on the bed in his guestroom and went into the bathroom to shower before the party.

After his shower, he walked back to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and glared at the suit again. He felt ridiculous for going through with this in the first place. He shouldn't have agreed to come. Sighing, he pulled a pair of boxers out of his dresser and started getting dressed. He put on the pants, shirt, and vest, but he couldn't figure out how to tie the necktie and he decided the jacket restricted his range of motion too much to bother wearing it. So, he finished by putting on a pair of black shoes and a belt and left his guestroom to find the Briefs.

He was walking down the hall to go upstairs when he found Nappa and Raditz talking in hushed tones, glancing around from time to time. They were wearing suits similar to his own, but they were black with different colored shirts; Raditz was wearing gray and Nappa dark green. Like him, they decided to forgo the ties and jackets. Vegeta stalked over to them, scowling. "What are you idiots doing?"

Nappa rubbed his head. "Er, nothing, Vegeta. Just talking about these stupid suits."

"Yeah. They're pointless," Raditz added.

"Obviously," Vegeta growled. He had only been wearing his for a total of five minutes and he was already tired of it. Still, he was going to prove to his pack that he could behave himself for one night among humans. Earlier that day Bulma had made a bet with him that he would either leave the party early or rip his suit off before the night was through. He didn't intend to lose. "Are they already in the ballroom?"

"I think so," Nappa said.

"Hn." Vegeta cast one more suspicious glance before stalking off to the stairs to go upstairs where the party was being held.

Raditz released his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. "That was close."

"Anyway, we need to be discreet." Nappa glanced over his shoulder once more. "They don't have anyone checking for invitations. That's where we come in. When he comes, we won't allow him in unless he shows us his invitation. If he tries to start an argument, we'll knock him out and hide him somewhere."

"Got it," Raditz said, nodding. "So where are the people coming in?"

"Back door. There's an elevator that takes them directly to the third floor to bypass the Briefs' living quarters. But he might come in the front, so one of us needs to stay at each door. If you feel his ki, let me know."

"I hope this works."

"It'll work." Nappa pulled at his shirt collar, muttering under his breath about the poor tailoring of his shirt. Never mind the fact that Bulma had to have it custom made to fit his enormous build. "The guests will be arriving soon, so let's go."

The two saiyans turned and went downstairs where they parted ways, with Nappa heading to the back door while Raditz went to the front. Once at their stations, they stood off to the side to watch for the unwelcome guest who would inevitably show. Bulma had given him an oral invitation after dinner the night they were invited, but they were going to see to it that he didn't make it, giving Vegeta a chance for some one-on-one time with her.

Vegeta walked into the ballroom and looked around. The orchestra was already setting up on the stage and the scent of earthling delicacies spiced the air, wafting over from the buffet line where Mrs. Brief was standing with her blue-haired daughter. Dr. Brief was off to the side, giving instructions to a hired servant who was holding a tray of empty champagne flutes.

The saiyan prince strode across the room toward the female Briefs, his tail twitching behind him with every step. Bulma looked over when she heard him coming and smiled. "Hey, Vegeta, so you haven't changed your mind about coming yet, eh?"

"I don't change my mind," he grumbled as he came to a stop at her side.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't I know it? You're the most insufferably stubborn man I've ever met in my life."

"Hn."

"Where's Nappa and Raditz?"

"Downstairs."

"My, Vegeta," Mrs. Brief cut in, "You certainly look handsome tonight. I'm so glad you decided to come!"

"He'd look even better if he'd worn the tie and jacket I gave him," Bulma grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't be silly, dear."

Vegeta huffed and looked Bulma's dress up and down. The halter dress had a deep crossover v-neck, revealing abundant cleavage, a low back, and a long, flowing skirt of satin the color of amethyst. He looked away from her, mildly embarrassed. "And what the hell are you wearing?" he asked sharply.

"What do you mean what am I wearing?" she asked, her arms uncrossing as she planted her hands on her hips.

"I would hardly consider that appropriate attire, girl."

"Well, I didn't ask for your opinion, did I?"

"I think she looks lovely, Vegeta," Mrs. Brief said. She giggled and excused herself to go speak with her husband.

They didn't have to wait long before the guests started arriving. Bulma went over to where her parents were greeting them and started shaking hands, hugging, and making small talk. Vegeta stayed where he was, watching their interactions from afar. Though he intended to keep Bulma's attention all night, he didn't want her to figure that out, so he had to maintain some distance from her at least part of the time.

Once most of the guests had come in, the orchestra started playing and the servants started making their rounds with hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Vegeta picked his way through the crowd until he spotted the crown of aqua blue hair and went over to stand at Bulma's side as she finished a conversation with an old man who was openly staring at her chest. As soon as Bulma finished talking to him, Vegeta wrapped his tail around her waist and pulled her away from the old pervert with a low growl.

"Vegeta, what is your deal?" she hissed.

"Did you even notice where that idiot's eyes were the whole time you were talking to him?"

Bulma averted her eyes, pretending to watching the dancing couples around her. "What's it matter to you where he was looking?"

"Stupid girl."

"Don't tell me you're jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind." She moved a little closer to him as a younger man walked by, leering at her. "Where's Yamcha? He should have been here by now."

Vegeta's lip curled contemptuously. "That fool probably forgot to come."

"I don't think he'd forget this, Vegeta," she said sternly. "It's hard to forget a party celebrating the holiday, especially when I'm here."

"I fail to see how it matters if he's here or not anyway," Vegeta said. "He's an idiot and a weakling, hardly worth your attention."

"Despite what you might believe, strength isn't the only thing that matters." Bulma looked around again and sighed when she didn't see her fiancé. "I'll have you know he's very sweet, and caring, and thoughtful."

Vegeta snorted and pulled her closer when another man walked past. "When I said weakling, I didn't just mean physically. He's a pushover. How can you be happy with someone who lets you walk all over him?"

Bulma inhaled sharply when she found herself pressed against Vegeta's chest. She could smell his natural, wild scent and feel his warmth on every inch of her body. "I don't walk all over him. Unlike you, he doesn't keep fighting when it would be simpler to compromise or admit he was wrong. And he is always wrong."

"And that's appealing to you?" Vegeta moved his right arm around her waist, holding her even closer.

"It's better than fighting all the time."

He snorted again. "Admit it. He's boring."

"He is not boring," she said angrily. She moved her hand to his chest to push him away, but he was immovable. "What's your interest in who I date anyway? I never thought you'd be the type to care about something like that. You don't even know what love is."

"Perhaps not," he said, taking her hand in his own to move it away from his chest. "But it is my duty to protect you, even if it's just from a failure of a relationship."

"Oh, are you two dancing?" Mrs. Brief squealed when she saw them standing together. She grinned and patted Vegeta's back. "I was going to tell you something, but it can wait. Have fun!"

They stood there for a moment in silence, baffled by Mrs. Brief's quick interruption of their conversation that was turning into a heated argument. No sooner had she appeared than she left, but it was enough to make some of their rising anger ebb away.

"I guess we could."

"What?"

"Dance." Bulma shrugged and moved her other hand to his shoulder. "We can at least look like we enjoy each other's company, right?"

"So now you don't like being around me? Then I suppose that means you'll never pester me to waste time with you instead of training."

Bulma groaned. "Whatever. Now what do you mean it's your duty to protect me? I don't recall ever asking you to protect me."

"Yet you always assumed I would, at least when you were still a sniveling little brat."

"Aw, Vegeta, does that mean you don't think I'm a brat anymore?"

"I didn't say that. You're not a sniveling little brat anymore."

She scowled at him as they started dancing, neither of them paying much attention to the music but still moving gracefully with the rhythm. "You're such a jerk, Vegeta. You don't have to protect me, especially not from Yamcha."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. How could you not be happy with him? You like someone who always agrees with you, never gives you a challenge, can't hold an intelligent conversation with you, has no purpose in life, would produce disgustingly ugly children, and is so far below you that you'll wonder every day why you ever decided to mate with him."

"What makes you so sure you know what I want, huh? You don't know anything about me!" Bulma tried to pull away from him, but his grip was unbreakable.

"Maybe not," he conceded, "But I know that you get bored easily with him and the only way for him to regain your interest is to lavish you with gifts. Don't try to deny it, I can see it in your body language if your scent didn't make it obvious enough already."

"You can smell my interest?" she asked skeptically.

"Hn."

"That's a load of bullshit if I ever heard any."

"Let's look at it from the other perspective. Would he be happy with you? I'm sure someone as foolishly egotistic as him doesn't enjoy having to bend to your will all the time. He would resent the fact that you earn all the money, and he would want you around more than you would be as you run your father's corporation. He wants a family and you don't, he wants to get married, and from what I've seen, you don't."

"You know even less about him than you do about me!"

"You underestimate my powers of observation. Besides, your parents don't particularly care for him either."

Bulma gaped at him, unable for a moment to come up with a retort. "My parents have always loved Yamcha! My mother especially wants me to marry him and give her grandbabies."

"Maybe she used to." Vegeta shrugged and released her when the music ended. "But if he's so thoughtful why isn't he here?" Having planted seeds of doubt, Vegeta turned and stalked over to the buffet line where he saw Nappa and Raditz gorging themselves like barbarians.

The two large saiyans looked up from the buffet when they felt Vegeta approaching, his ki slightly higher than normal. He was scowling and the tip of his tail twitched against his hip, so something obviously had him riled up, no doubt the blue-haired girl.

"Where the hell have you two been?" he barked.

Raditz was the first to swallow and answer, "What do you mean? We've been here."

Vegeta grunted and started picking at the food. He wasn't overly hungry, but if there was food available he would eat it. Besides, it gave him an excuse to avoid Bulma for a while until he was able to rein in his anger a little more. She was so infuriatingly dense when it came to her fiancé. How could she still think they were a good match when they so obviously weren't? Stupid girl! He refused to let her waste her life with that miserable wretch.

"Where is that idiot, anyway?" he wondered aloud. "That dog never misses any chance he gets to trail after the girl."

Nappa and Raditz exchanged a quick glance before shrugging. "Maybe he decided not to come," Nappa said.

"Hn." Vegeta scanned the crowd. He didn't feel the weakling's ki. "I doubt that."

"Who cares anyway?" Raditz asked.

Vegeta huffed and went over to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. "I don't."

"Sure," Nappa murmured. He smirked as he grabbed more food to eat. The scar-faced earthling wasn't going to show up to the party, that was for sure. He and Raditz took care of that. He might be confused when he wakes up, but that didn't matter. What was important was giving Vegeta and Bulma a chance to talk without him interfering. If only Vegeta would stop sulking over there and go find her again…

A few minutes later Bulma emerged from the crowd to go stand with Nappa and Raditz at the buffet line. Her arms were crossed over her chest, careful to hide herself rather than enhance it from all the wandering eyes of her male company. Maybe Vegeta was right about her attire. She shook her head; no, what she was wearing was fine, it was just the men who had no decency.

"Hey guys," she said as she came over to them, facing away from the crowd. "What're you up to? Eating all our food?"

Raditz blushed a little as he retracted his outstretched hand from another helping of fruit salad. "It's good food," he mumbled.

Bulma laughed as she grabbed a few grapes. "You can have all you want, Raditz. Mom ordered enough food for you saiyans and then enough for everyone else." She turned to watch everyone dancing and sighed. "Have you seen Yamcha?"

Nappa coughed a few times as he nearly inhaled the olives he was eating. "Yamcha?" he wheezed. "No, haven't seen him."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. She dipped a pita chip in the hummus as she turned back to the crowd, still searching for her missing fiancé. "Have you at least seen Vegeta?"

"He's over there," Raditz said, gesturing behind them with his head.

Bulma looked behind the two large saiyans and giggled when she saw Vegeta leaning on the wall in his classic arrogant, aloof posture. She walked over to him and stood directly in front of him, effectively blocking his view of anything else. "Hey, Vegeta."

"What do you want?"

"How about another dance?"

Scoffing, he turned his head to the side so he wouldn't have to look at her. "Where's your love-sick puppy? Don't tell me he hasn't arrived yet. That wouldn't be very sweet of him, would it?"

"You want the truth? No, he's not here. But I'm not going to let that ruin my night. You're here so I can spend some time with you instead. I don't see you enough outside of eating and passing in the halls when you're either going to or from the gravity room." She put her left hand on his shoulder and took his left hand in her right. "So come on. You might as well try to have some fun too. You don't look like you're enjoying yourself."

Vegeta put his right arm around her waist. "And you think your company will make this foolish social gathering more bearable?"

"Beats being a wallflower."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

When they took the first step of their second dance together, neither of them thought they would spend the rest of the night dancing together. They also never would have guessed that the topic of Bulma's missing fiancé would fail to come up as they talked – or bantered. As they whirled around the ballroom, expertly avoiding the other couples, they lost track of time, so they were both surprised when there was the collective shout at midnight, "Happy New Year!"

Even then, they kept dancing until much later when the orchestra finished and started packing up as the guests slowly began leaving, somewhat unsteady on their feet from champagne and exhaustion. Though they weren't dancing anymore, Vegeta still held onto Bulma, and she didn't try to break away from him. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thanks for the dance, Vegeta," she murmured sleepily.

"You should go to bed, girl."

"Yeah," she said through a yawn, "I know. I'm tired."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Vegeta stepped back, letting his arms slip from around her slender waist. Bulma shivered at the loss of contact with his warm body. She smiled at him and turned around to leave, stopping at the door where her parents were to hug them and wish them a goodnight before disappearing from view. For some reason, Vegeta felt oddly disappointed by her silent departure.

…

Groaning, he rubbed his aching head as he sat up. He cracked his eyes open and looked around, but he had no idea where he was. It was pitch black aside from a line of light a few feet in front of him. He rose to his feet unsteadily and groaned again as a wave of dizziness washed over him. "What happened?"

He stumbled over to where the light was and felt around on the wall until he found a doorknob, then turned it and let himself out. He winced at the bright light and quietly closed the door behind him. "Where am I?"

After taking a moment to adjust to the light, he looked around and recognized the front hall of Capsule Corporation. He looked behind him at the door he came through. That was a storage closet. He rubbed his head again. "What time is it?"

"Oh no, the party!" he tried to move, but he swayed on his feet and slowly collapsed to the floor. "Did I make it? This feels like a hell of a hangover."

He was about to try standing again when he heard someone coming down the hall toward him. Looking up, he saw it was his blue-haired angel. She was wearing khakis, a dark red shirt, and a white lab coat. That didn't look like party clothes. He frowned. Did he miss the party or did he make it? He couldn't remember. He was still wracking through his memories when Bulma gasped and ran over to help him up.

"Yamcha, what are you doing here? What happened to you?" she asked as she grabbed his arms to pull him to his feet.

"I'm not really sure," he slurred. "I just remember coming to the party…"

"Yamcha," she growled, "You never came to the party. I waited for you all night."

"But Bulma, I was here, and I was going, and…" he paused for another groan. "And I just woke up in the storage closet."

"The storage closet?" she asked, eyebrow raising. "You got wasted before coming here?"

"No, I don't think so. I didn't drink anything before I came, I swear."

"Why else would you wake up in the storage closet?"

He sighed and leaned against the wall for support. He didn't know how to explain it if he couldn't remember what happened. He kept searching for the memory until he finally stumbled upon it.

He walked up to the front door, surprised to see Raditz standing there, barring the way. The large saiyan did not step aside when he went up the steps to the door. "Excuse me," he said, trying to be polite, "can I get through here?"

"That depends," Raditz said haughtily. "Do you have an invitation?"

"Do I – do I what? I don't need an invitation! You were there when Bulma asked me to come!"

Raditz shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't let you in if you don't have an invitation."

"What are you talking about? I've never needed an invitation before. Look, pal, get out of my way. Bulma's got to be waiting for me. Do you want me to call her so she can tell you I can come in?" he snarled.

Unfazed, Raditz again shook his head. "I'm not going to let you bother her. She's busy. Now, if you don't have your invitation, you need to leave."

"You can't kick me out!"

"Are you sure about that?" Raditz asked menacingly.

He took a step back, forgetting the stairs, and fell down. He glared at the long-haired saiyan as he made little effort to conceal his laughter.

"Now then," Raditz said, stepping down next to him, "Lights out."

The last thing he knew was an explosion of pain in the side of his head.

"That bastard!" Yamcha growled, his hands tightening into fists. "That fucking bastard! He wouldn't let me in and then he knocked me out."

"Who?"

"Raditz."

Bulma snorted. "Raditz? Why would he do something like that? Either you're lying or your mind's all jumbled up."

"I'm not lying and I'm not confused, Bulma," Yamcha snapped. He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. "Look, B, I really love you and I want to be with you, but I'm not sure this relationship is going to work out. You've got these saiyans living here and they all hate me. I don't even feel comfortable visiting you anymore. And – and your parents don't seem to like me too well anymore and I just – I just don't think we can make this work."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm breaking up with you, B."

Bulma didn't say anything for a few moments as she looked into his deep brown eyes, trying to figure out if he was joking or angry. But all she saw there was hurt. She swallowed and nodded slightly. "You're right, Yam. It isn't going to work. I don't want to get married anymore and it's unfair for me to keep stringing you along like this."

"We can still be friends."

"Yeah. Friends." She forced a small smile and hugged him. "I'm sorry about what Raditz did. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"It's not your fault."

Bulma kissed his cheek. "I still love you."

"I love you too."

"Goodbye."

Yamcha ran his hand through her silky hair one last time before pulling away from her and walking out. Both of them knew this was their last breakup. Countless times they broke up, only to get back together again later when their tempers cooled. But this time was different. It was inevitable. It had been coming for weeks. In a small way, they were lucky their wedding was interrupted, saving them from a failed marriage and more heartache. But, mutual or not, this breakup was the most painful because it was the most real, the end of a relationship that spanned almost half their lives.

A/N: Yes, for those who are unsure, Frieza is definitely immortal. It's not unreasonable for Porunga to be able to grant that wish if you think about it; he is able to restore life, and anyway, Shenron could grant immortality and eternal youth (and did, if you recall). I didn't actually write the dream sequence of Vegeta kissing Bulma, sorry. And I'm happy you like my take on Vegeta's "saiyan wit"... ha... yeah, I had fun with the disemboweling bit.

I know Vegeta was rather talkative, but only because it furthered his purpose of waning Bulma's interest in Yamcha and there's not really any better way in this case. Anyway, that's the end of BulmaxYamcha and yes, Raditz and Nappa are totally devious. Tell me you didn't laugh once in this chapter. I can't read it without laughing and I'm the one who wrote it.

Beta'd by lilpumpkingirl

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