Human Hospitality
by pureleaf
Chapter 5
Settling In
Author Note: Thanks for your reviews!
By the time seven o'clock rolled around, Bunny and Bulma had decided it would be best just to order something for dinner, not knowing how much their guest would eat and if he'd even enjoy the meal. Aware that Vegeta's Saiyan appetite seemed to be returning (and very quickly at that) they chose to order a few different types of cuisine from around the world: Italian, Lebanese, and Mexican.
Vegeta had opted to take a nap after his encounter with Bulma, and when he awoke in the evening his nose wrinkled at the lingering scent of that lotion the blue-haired girl had given him. It wasn't a foul smell, or even terribly offensive, but Vegeta knew his sense of smell was much more sensitive than that of the humans he was living with, and he suspected that humans loved to smell sweet.
And then, he smelled dinner. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but something downstairs smelled very good and his stomach was growling.
Bunny seemed thrilled to see him again and rattled off a short list of beverages she had available. When Vegeta realized she was offering him beer, his curiosity was piqued. "If humans have beer, then I should like to try human beer."
"You drink?" Bulma sat in the chair across from Vegeta's, genuinely surprised at her guest's choice of beverage.
"Beer and wine were staple beverages in Saiyan society," Vegeta gave Bunny a nod when she placed an icy brown bottle at his place, "and true Saiyans are very fond of their drink."
"That sounds promising..."
He twisted the cap off, sniffed, took a cautious sip, and swished the liquid in his mouth before swallowing. Human beer tasted like a lighter, slightly sweeter version of Saiyan beer. "I like this... hmm. Furthermore, I have decided human cuisine is quite good, based on what I have tried in a single day."
"We decided to order-in, seeing as you ate more in one sitting than sometimes I do in three days..." Bulma imitated the smirk Vegeta had flashed at her earlier that day.
"Bulma, that's not very nice! Vegeta's a guest and he's more than welcome to eat whatever he likes and as much as he likes. Besides, your friend Goku has quite the appetite, too! Here, honey," Mrs. Briefs set small plates in front of each place at the table and took a seat to Vegeta's left, "you're going to need somebody to explain the different types of food available tonight."
"Yeah, you're getting a little tour of the world through food, Vegeta. Aren't you lucky we're going to indulge you?" Bulma took two pita and a container of hummus and dug in.
Does she mean these people seriously don't have some type of standard cuisine? What kind of planet am I trapped on?!
He chose to try pita bread and took a small container of toum, figuring it had to be a safe choice.
It's official: humans are pathetic, weak creatures...
He dipped his bread in the white sauce, took a cautious bite, and his eyes widened with surprise as he chewed. The bread was soft and warm and the sauce was cool and creamy and wonderfully pungent and it all tasted of something that reminded him of thing he'd eaten as a very young boy.
...who are capable of making some really delicious food.
By ten thirty, Vegeta lay in bed with the covers drawn to his collarbone, eyelids growing heavier by the minute. He was full of good food and riding a pleasant buzz from the beer. He could still smell the lotion and decided he didn't like how the scent lingered. He'd literally gone years without a proper bath or shower at times, instead relying on steam baths just before his pod landed or rinsing off in streams or under rainfall once a planet's water was deemed safe and unpolluted. Living and working with two older Saiyans also meant Vegeta had become very used to smelling and looking unpleasant and really not caring what anybody thought. It was jarring to suddenly have the opportunity to bathe whenever he wanted, for as long as he wanted, and then actually take the time to look over his appearance and take care of his skin...
It was overwhelming.
The food had been excellent, and Bunny a remarkably patient guide. If she noticed his brusqueness, she did a fine job of ignoring it and treating him as a member of her own family. Vegeta decided he liked Mexican and Lebanese food the most- and it seemed acceptable to eat these particular foods with his hands. He didn't like something called "spaghetti" because he couldn't figure out how exactly to handle the utensils Bulma insisted he use, and when he gave up and tried to eat it with his hands she started screaming at him, saying it was "disgusting" and rudely asking if he'd been raised in something called a "barn".
He wanted to ask her if she was something called a "bitch" but managed to hold his tongue.
I will not be mocked by a human for how I am most comfortable eating, he thought resentfully, she has no right to speak to me like that!
He rolled over in his soft bed and shut his eyes. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep.
The next three days passed by with very little incident. The Briefs and Vegeta ate almost all their meals together, although Bulma had started taking a thermos of coffee and container of yogurt to the lab and disappearing for hours at a stretch most mornings. Vegeta discovered unscented lotion courtesy of Dr. Briefs when he worked up the nerve to ask him privately about how frequently he was expected to bathe. Although he was quite happy to take a bath or shower every day, he still refrained from using something called "shampoo" on his hair after discovering it was the oddest shade of bright, opalescent green and absolutely reeked of a cloying perfume.
Late in the evening on the third full day, Bulma found a wide tooth comb Vegeta could use to pick through his hair after he'd barged into her room and started complaining loudly and continuously. The lack of proper Saiyan grooming tools, with special attention paid to his mane of hair, preferably by a trusted partner, was something he started to sorely miss now that he had free time to focus on his appearance. He remembered when Raditz took time to pick through his hair whenever they had downtime and was even nostalgic for a few minutes before feelings of resentment seeped in to his consciousness.
They were trying their best to accommodate him and Vegeta knew that. Still, he couldn't shake his frustration and the gnawing feeling he wasn't training hard enough. By mid-afternoon on his fourth full day on Earth, he'd used the gym twice and had run laps around the spacious grounds of the Capsule Corporation for close to an hour.
The Namekians, who had taken up residence in small guest houses surrounded by flower beds and shady trees, warily eyed the Saiyan as he passed by on his run. Vegeta briefly made eye contact with one small Namekian wearing white and red robes before focusing his attention back to the running track.
He didn't like how the Namekian had looked at him; the young alien's expression wasn't one of contempt or fear, but instead an expression of pity.
You wouldn't have survived two days in my childhood, thought Vegeta, a cold spike of anger running up his spine.
He went back to the house and straight up to his bedroom and changed into fresh clothing before heading downstairs to the lab. It hadn't been a week but Vegeta didn't care- why couldn't the old man just get the damn gravity generator up and running?
When he entered the lab, the smell of freshly welded metal hit his nose and made him involuntarily furrow his brow. The gravity simulator was an impressive piece of technology, even Vegeta could admit; its smooth white and black exterior and small port-hole windows were unlike anything he'd seen in his travels.
The more he got to know the humans who had taken him in, the more humans as a species confused him. Vegeta could begrudgingly admit humans weren't entirely stupid, considering their capacity for intergalactic travel (if only on a minute scale) and their advanced methods of communication, but they certainly were weird. They really seemed to aim for consistency in their daily lives and didn't appear the least bit interested in exerting energy over long periods of time. He had no idea how any of them could sit on the couch for hours at a stretch, reading magazines, working, or watching television, but he'd seen all three of them doing it!
"Hey, Vegeta! Talk about serendipity, I was going to go looking for you in a few minutes!" Bulma cut the fuel supply to her welding torch, set it down in its holster, and pulled back her thick protective mask to reveal flushed cheeks and a wide grin. Her hair was scraped back into a small ponytail and she wore a baseball hat with the brim to the back.
The Saiyan was quite intrigued by how she looked at that moment.
"Come on up! I thought you might be interested in seeing the progress on the gravity machine!"
He jumped up to her elevated platform and did not take care to land gently.
"Watch it! This isn't athletic equipment, you know!" She clung to the railing as the platform rocked from side to side.
"You said to come up, so I came up! Stop with your silly complaints at once and show me what you're doing now, I am growing tired of waiting for a functioning gravity machine to materialize."
Bulma rolled her eyes and adjusted her cap. "It hasn't even been five days, Vegeta! I have a life too, you know! Look, the time spent just simulating the effects of this machine has nearly set us back by a full day or two. There's a lot of adjustments to be made, and we're also reinforcing the frame, walls and windows so the structure can withstand even more pressure than the simulator Goku trained in. I know you how much you want to train, but there's no way this is going to be up by tomorrow if that's what you came to ask me. You're more than welcome to check out the machine with me, if you'd like."
"I... uh, I," Vegeta stammered, "yes, I suppose if you're creating a superior machine for a superior Saiyan, it would take more time," that crooked smile appeared, "so I should like to see what you've done so far."
Nice save there buddy, thought Bulma, knowing she'd shut him down before he could start acting unreasonable just to get his way.
"I'm reinforcing the exterior walls and windows today. Yesterday we reinforced the interior walls and the floor; we added a special kind of rubber tile to absorb some of the shock if you're going to be jumping around in there. Come on, I'll show you the inside." She brought the platform down to ground level and hopped off. Arms folded across his chest, Vegeta followed her into the machine.
At the centre of the machine's round interior was a huge cylindrical structure that went from the floor to the ceiling. Portable halogen lamps flooded the gravity simulator with uncomfortably bright light. At waist level was a console and control panel, still disconnected from a central power supply.
"This will be your main training area. There's a lower level too, equipped with a low-flow shower and toilet, and a small area to eat and rest. Just so you know, the washroom on here won't work unless you turn off the gravity simulator. This is the second machine my Dad and I have worked on and we're trying to make it as fail-safe as possible."
"I see," Vegeta ran his fingers of the controls and frowned at his reflection in the dark computer screen, "what script will the computer run? Surely you'll have the displays in Galactic Standard."
"What the hell is Galactic Standard? Is that the weird script that was displayed on the scouter Raditz wore?"
"If you want to call it that," Vegeta sneered, "it's designed to be easily read and spoken by a vast number of species. I speak Saiyan, Galactic Standard, and whatever language you're speaking. How many species communicate using your written script?"
Bulma's eyed widened when she realized that she had never really questioned just how Vegeta could communicate with her. Truth be told, it was a bit horrifying to know he'd landed on Earth already knowing the language. Sure, his speech was a bit awkward, but he spoke English fluently and had since he'd landed on Earth, and so had Raditz, and that was no coincidence.
"A few billion people speak this language. It's called English. There's a lot of different languages on Earth. So, uh, how do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Microchip." His face momentarily hardened as though blocking some terrible memory from coming to the surface.
She knew he wasn't going to provide a more detailed explanation and let it be.
"Sorry, Vegeta, but I don't know Galactic Standard. In fact, I never heard of it until you brought it up. Would you be willing to spend some time learning the controls if I programmed the computer to display simple commands?"
"I have little else to do."
"Then it's agreed. I can probably get the computer up in two days and spend some time with you then. At this point, it's just a big, empty ship."
"Hmm. You'd better not waste any more time and get back to working on my big, empty ship, then. Good-bye."
He moved swiftly to the machine's entrance steps and swung his legs over the railing jumped out of sight.
"See you at dinner, too, Vegeta... jeez. What a weird guy..." by the time Bulma had left the machine, Vegeta was long gone. She had no idea where he'd gone.
Probably back to the gym, if he isn't searching for food...
Bulma raised her platform, lowered her welder's mask, and turned her torch back on. She had no idea how long it would really take to complete the machine and hoped Vegeta's patience would hold out for another few days.