Human Hospitality
by scoutergreen
Chapter 54
Old Feelings, New Circumstances
When he snapped back into awareness, the first thing Vegeta noticed was that there were a lot of dead bodies strewn about the station he had attacked. As he had disembarked his ship after landing on the planet called Gyinn, the Saiyan felt as though he was losing himself second by second, and the moment blood was spilled all of his awareness and his conscience was completely gone.
"Oh. I guess it's over," his voice wavered as he made his way down the station's main corridor and felt as though every muscle was tingling, "wow..."
He stumbled into a locker room, kicked a headless body out of the way, and then found himself standing in front of a mirror. Vegeta was covered in blood; it matted down his hair and was caked on his cheeks, his clothing soaked through and armour smeared with fat streaks of red.
When Vegeta noticed how bright and glassy his eyes were, he broke into a raspy cackle and leaned in closer to the mirror to further inspect his appearance. For several minutes, Vegeta stared at himself in the mirror, feeling as though he was reconnecting with his old self.
I missed myself, he thought, searching for the nearest, relatively clean shower.
After a long, hot shower, Vegeta tip-toed across the tiles, careful to avoid any blood that may have oozed into the area, and changed into fresh clothing and armour. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to have a good meal and get some rest.
How long was I out for, he wondered as he dressed and felt himself coming down from his strange state of awareness, I don't remember anything after the landing...
Vegeta had been so angry after that call from that awful woman, that he had actively planned to attack the nearest station upon landing on Gyinn. If he took out one major station, chances were high that communications across the planet would be severely disrupted, and so far his plan seemed to be working. All the display screens and computers (the ones that remained intact, anyway) had gone blank or flashed an error message.
He wandered over to the station's mess hall and took the time to eat well and truly satisfy his massive appetite before locating the available rations. I'll get these later, he decided, it's time for rest. Sooner or later more soldiers will come this way to figure out what the hell happened...
Reclining in a high-backed chair near a huge control panel, Vegeta shut his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
He was laying back on a huge fur-covered mattress, very aware that he was feeling aroused and not so sure of where he was.
The air smelled good; it was hazy and warm with the smell of exotic flowers and incense, and when Vegeta sat up he found himself being pinned back down onto the mattress by a pair of calloused hands. He smirked and reached upward, fingers brushing against thick, oily hair and hot skin.
"Hey now," a tongue darted out and ran along his collarbone, "no sitting up... I wanna fuck you," it continued on down his belly and suddenly there was warmth and wetness around that sensitive area between his legs.
Vegeta went to speak and from his mouth came a high pitched wail, oscillating between an uncomfortable interval and seemingly getting louder by the second.
The Saiyan snapped back to consciousness and realized that soldiers from another station were approaching the scene of his violence.
"Damn!" All his arousal vanished in an instant and he internally chastised himself for almost-longing for the days when he'd had sex with Bulma on a regular basis. You're back to work, he thought, take care of business before attending to your dick.
He sighed, pulled on his gloves, and went outside to greet the approaching soldiers.
"Let's see here," he scanned the diverse mass of soldiers less than one hundred metres away, their weapons drawn and ready to fire, "average schlubs... well, this isn't very challenging. Alright..." he sighed and slid back into that familiar state he associated with killing, and proceeded to approach.
He jumped high into the air. To nearly all of the soldiers watching their lone target, it was as though he had vanished midair. Where would he reappear?
"Oh, fuck!" A tall, slender, and certainly young soldier screamed when he found himself eye to eye with the infamous, dangerous Saiyan called Vegeta. Those steely, icy eyes would be the last thing he'd ever see.
"Good answer!" Vegeta drove a fist into the young soldier's armoured chest, his blow powerful enough to throw the heart into a deadly arrhythmia the instant it was hit with by the crushing force. As the convulsing soldier dropped to the ground, the Saiyan moved on to the next soldier in line.
He lost track of time, consumed in his destruction and revelling in every moment. The fight wasn't very challenging, but it was an amusing one, especially when many of the soldiers recognized what they were up against and chose to run away, screaming for backup through their scouters. Vegeta chased after them, blowing them down with casual blasts of energy and effortless dive-bombs, breaking their spines from behind with a knee or heels.
After the second group of soldiers, nobody else came. The air and barren land grew very quiet, the distant sun began to sink behind a lonely range of low mountains, and Vegeta decided he'd go back to the station to clean up, eat, and get some more sleep before taking off.
Gyinn had been a huge disappointment, and Vegeta knew he had to take off at first light. He was wasting his time and energy on the desolate little planet, and there were greater challenges and battles to seek in PTO territory.
The anger had finally subsided for Bulma, after being devastated by Vegeta's sudden departure she was depressed and furious for two full weeks before coming to the realization that she really didn't need him, and she convinced herself that she didn't miss his company, either.
Shopping for maternity wear had done her good, and she was pleased with her comfortable selections and how she looked in them. She actually had trouble deciding what to wear, and that dilemma actually cheered Bulma up.
It had been a while since she had seen Yamcha, and Bulma decided that he would be the first friend she would tell about the pregnancy. Of all her friends, Bulma actually trusted Yamcha the most. He'd moved into his own apartment a few months before Bulma had become pregnant, and he was certainly out of the loop when it came to her situation with that Saiyan.
She called him in the early evening, when she knew he would most likely be at home, and suggested they meet for dinner.
"Is Vegeta coming?" Yamcha asked, voice quiet through the phone.
Bulma hissed. "He is definitely not coming, Yamcha."
"Good. So what were you thinking, Bulma? Personally, I could go for some sushi..."
"No!" She blurted out, "I mean, nah, I'm not feeling like fish tonight. Hey, how about pizza? I could totally go for pizza."
"How about Madre's? They make the best deep dish tomato pizza. Can I pick you up at six thirty?"
"Six thirty it is, then. You can show up early, if you want... I'm really hungry..."
After disconnecting, Bulma went to the kitchen and began eating chunks of cantaloupe from a glass container. Her appetite had become even bigger than usual several days prior and showed no signs of subsiding. When Yamcha showed up at six twenty, Bulma had already eaten the entire container of cantaloupe and was halfway through a box of cheese-flavoured crackers when her mother answered the door.
She pulled on a loose black cardigan, aiming cover what her knee-length kelly green dress failed to conceal, and went to meet Yamcha.
"Finally! I'm starving, Yamcha!" She pulled herself into his car, stifling a groan when she felt the increasing weight in her belly radiating through her lower back as she moved.
He laughed and started the engine, slowly pulling out of the main driveway and merging back into traffic while trying his best not to look at Bulma. Something was very different about her, but he couldn't pinpoint just what it was.
"You look great, Bulma," he glanced at her once traffic was moving at a steady pace, admiring her radiant skin and glossy hair.
"Mm, thanks," she muttered turned her head away, gazing out the window at a billboard advertising new condominiums for sale in the downtown core of West City.
They were quiet for many minutes, and Yamcha attempted to fill the silence by turning on the radio and switching to a classic rock station. Bulma sighed and turned the radio to a classical music program.
"So... how's Vegeta?" Yamcha tried at conversation again, despite his worry that he would somehow annoy Bulma.
Bulma hissed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, he was just fine and dandy last time I spoke to him. That piece of shit ran off again."
"We don't need Vegeta. He's an asshole, Bulma. Forget about him."
"It's not so easy..."
"Oh, come on, Bulma. Don't get like that. He isn't worth the energy you're wasting by being so upset."
She waited until they had pulled into the restaurant parking lot before breaking the silence. "Well, I'm pregnant."
Yamcha was grateful his vehicle had come to a complete stop. "You're what?!"
"I'm pregnant. Knocked up. Bun in the oven. Eating for tw-"
"I get it! I'm not totally dumb, Bulma. Just... well... I suppose we both know who the father is..."
She hissed again. "Yeah..."
Still in a state of shock, Yamcha managed to sit down in their chosen booth and ordered a cheese and tomato pizza while Bulma went for a white pizza with caramelized onions, and after thirty seconds of deliberation they agreed to order two pounds of hot wings with ranch dip. As they waited for their food to arrive, they kept the conversation very light: the weather, the traffic, weekend plans.
"Mm, unhealthy..." Bulma took her first bite of a juicy chicken wing and hummed, content with the delicious food.
"How far along are you, anyway?" It felt like such a strange thing to ask, but Yamcha couldn't help himself.
"Oh, about five months? My appetite's been crazy lately," Bulma stopped to practically inhale a slice of pizza, "can't seem t'get enough! I'm going for a sonogram later this week. Been visiting doctors quite a bit, obviously, but now I'm far enough into this pregnancy to get a real good look at what's going on inside. And before you ask, I don't know the gender, nor do I want to. It'll be a surprise."
Yamcha sucked on a chicken bone, feeling the spread of cayenne pepper sauce through his chest. "And how is the father taking all of this?"
Bulma didn't answer right away, far more interested in the food. She'd already eaten half of her pizza and close to a pound of wings, but the food didn't even seem to register in her stomach or her brain. Finally, after searching for the right words, she decided to be honest: "Vegeta took off a few weeks ago. To say he was pissed off by this would be a massive understatement. I don't know if he'll ever come back, and quite frankly, Yamcha, I don't care either. The only thing he contributed to the house was lots of laundry, dirty dishes, and damage to the house or its contents, so it's no wonder he flipped out at the idea of raising the child he helped create."
Yamcha shifted in his chair, very uncomfortable with what he was hearing. He had forced himself to accept the fact that his ex-girlfriend and the Saiyan had pursued a consensual physical relationship, even though it left him feeling equal parts disgusted and heartbroken. But worse than the physical relationship, at least for Yamcha, was seeing the two of them spending hours together, sometimes engaged in conversation and other times contentedly silent. A deep spot within him was hurt and jealous whenever he saw the two of them together.
Now his ex-girlfriend was pregnant, the father had taken off for places unknown, and that spot that had ached with jealousy now ached with sadness. It was all enough to make his head start spinning.
"Hey, Yamcha?" Bulma practically demolished her final slice of pizza.
Yamcha shook his head and snapped back into real-time. "Yeah? What is it, Bulma?"
"We need to order more food, right now. My appetite's practically inhuman these days. Whad'dya think sounds better: the carbonara, or a T-bone steak? Really, I could go for both..."