Bulla stared up at the canopy, a sight she was officially sick of.
Has anyone ever actually died from boredom?
If Bulla were at her office, she would test product samples, make final selections on packaging, answer e-mails and phone calls. Or film in her studio, pouring over the details of launch videos or reviews for new products from her competitors, to either their benefit or detriment; depending on the performance of said products.
This was the first actual break she'd had since the launch of Capsule Cutie.
She was losing her mind. There really was nothing to do here. Other than eat or sleep.
Unless the atmosphere in the chamber changed, like it did a few nights ago, when the temperature rose to a blazing inferno, the endless abyss of white beyond the shelter transforming into a maelstrom of vermillion streaked with angry shocks of gold that beat against the exterior of their little shelter so violently she thought it might collapse around them. Fortunately, it hadn't. While Bulla, covered in sweat, tossed and turned, Goten slept like a baby through the entire event, completely unbothered, much to her annoyance.
If for no other reason than to have something to do, she even pondered picking a fight with her dark-haired 'roommate'.
Which is exactly what he wants.
The smell of something delicious caught Bulla's nose as she laid in her dark cocoon. Goten had no doubt whipped up another West City Eats article worthy breakfast.
She knew when she finally motivated herself to leave her little nest, there'd be yet another pity plate waiting for her.
And she would absolutely eat it.
Because, despite her immense pride, she could not force down another serving of eggs that resembled tire treads in both taste and texture. And she wouldn't waste good food. Such a sin went against her Saiyan heritage.
So, she would wait and stay out of sight until he started his daily workout before sneaking off to shamefully eat his offering without him around to witness it.
Her stomach let out a fierce growl, and Bulla finally sat up. She couldn't rely on her sense of smell to suss out Goten's location, because his scent was stamped all over the space they shared. His ki was ever present, as usual, so that wasn't a helpful indicator either. So, she listened. Straining to detect any hint of movement beyond the curtain. Perhaps a scrape of a fork against a plate or the sound of pots being shuffled around in the kitchen area.
Bulla waited a beat, listening intently. But only silence met her ears.
Satisfied that the coast was probably clear, she crept toward the edge of the bed, carefully peeling back the curtain…
And froze.
There he was, staring back at her.
He sat casually at the small wooden table, his chin resting on his fist, expression amused. Two steaming bowls sat on the table before him, and her mouth watered at the savory aroma of what she assumed was some kind of soup or stew. Whatever it was, it smelled incredible, and her stomach rumbled.
Her gaze flicked back to the other halfling's, and he held it, remaining perfectly still, as if she were some kind of feral beast and he didn't want to spook her.
For what felt like days, they had steered clear of one another. As much as they could, given the close quarters. It seemed he'd decided that was at an end. He was trying to force her into a confrontation with him, and he was using her breakfast as a lure. Asshole.
So, Bulla Briefs did what any sane person would do. She promptly shut the curtains.
"Bulla, seriously? Come eat! I know you're hungry. I can hear your stomach growling from out here!"
"I am not!" She all but snarled, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest. A lie. A stupid, childish lie.
"Don't be a coward Princess."
A fresh swell of anger rose through her chest at those words. Bulla threw open the curtains so violently she was surprised she didn't rip them down.
"I am not a coward."
"Then why don't you come over here and prove it?" His tone was irritatingly amiable, despite the challenge in his eyes.
Bulla felt like she'd shrunk to the size of a thimble under the weight of his gaze. He was right. She knew it. She knew hiding only made her look like a petulant child. But if she did as he asked…
She knew exactly what would happen then too.
He'd slowly chip away at the wall she'd carefully built specifically to keep him out, with his easy smiles and his kind, patient words and his stupid, bulging biceps. Seriously, they were obscenely large, and he wasn't even flexing! It was all a recipe for disaster.
By the time she realized it was happening, it would already be too late.
He continued to quietly survey her from his seat, his imperturbable expression firmly in place, daring her to come out and play.
No matter what move she made, he won.
The manner in which she would accept defeat was the only thing left to decide.
With a growl of irritation, Bulla straightened her shoulders, schooling her features into what she hoped was a look of cool indifference and stood from the bed. Goten watched her every step of the way as she strode for the table, chin held high. She thumped down into the opposite chair. She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. "Happy?"
"We're getting there."
Bulla rolled her eyes, picking up her spoon. She'd just scarf her food down as quickly as possible and then go on about her day. And that would be that.
Before her spoon could touch the surface of the steaming liquid, He reached over and pulled her bowl away.
"What the fuck Goten?!"
"We need to have a conversation."
Nope, not happening. She shoved away from the table, making to storm away, but his hand shot out to catch her wrist. The sudden contact sent a skitter of nerves zig-zagging up her spine, rooting her firmly in place. "About our living arrangement. Not… anything else."
He wanted to discuss their 'living arrangements'? She thought the perimeters of their 'living arrangement' had been pretty damn clear, staying the hell away from one another.
"Let. Go." Bulla commanded quietly.
He did as she bid, using the same hand to gesture at the seat across from him, looking at her with what she could only describe as the dreaded puppy dog eyes.
"Sit down. Please?"
Fuck. She hated it when he looked at her like that. It made her feel as though hundreds of tiny, writhing shards of glass had invaded her chest.
She heaved a heavy sigh and, once again, dropped into her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and serving him with an expectant look. "What do you want me to do? The dishes? Fine, done." She reached for the bowl. Only for him to tug it just out of reach once again, and Bulla let out a growl of aggravation.
"Not exactly." He ran a hand through his inky spikes, and the muscles in his back and shoulders bunched. "Look, I'm going to keep this short. For the foreseeable future, you and I have to share this space. It'll be easier on both of us if we can come to some kind of agreement."
"Such as?"
"I don't mind cooking for you, hell I don't mind cleaning for you. But there needs to be some kind of reciprocation. I would appreciate it if you sparred with me for a couple of hours a day. Without a partner, my productivity is limited and it gets boring pretty quickly. It would also help you burn off some excess energy and pass the time. It would be beneficial for both of us. And I promise, I won't bring up anything about… before. You've made it pretty clear you're not interested in talking about any of it. And as much as I might want one, you don't owe me any explanations." Goten's expression dimmed, "and once we get out of here, I'll do my best not to bother you anymore and you can go right back to hating me. If that's what you want."
His words washed over her like a bucket of ice water.
He thinks I hate him…?
Her throat tightened, and suddenly she wasn't feeling so hungry.
"Do we have a deal?"
She studied his face as she mulled over her answer, the faint five o'clock shadow covering his jaw, the corners of his mouth drawn slightly downward. But she paused on his eyes, for what felt like far longer than was appropriate or necessary. There wasn't a trace of the shining playfulness that normally lit them. The urge to flee tugged at her stomach, but it was suffused by a ridiculous, irrational want. No, not a want. A need. A niggling, insistent need to do something, anything, to banish that dreadful sadness from his face.
Because there was no mistaking it for anything else.
"… Fine."
"Fine?" He blinked as if he wasn't quite sure he'd heard her correctly. "Fine as in… yes, you will spar with me?"
"That's what I said." Bulla lowered her gaze to the table. "Like you said, it's… not like I have anything better to do."
Clearly wary of her unexpected acceptance of his proposal, he wordlessly placed her bowl back in front of her before silently tucking into his own meal. As Bulla stared down at the contents of her bowl, she couldn't help but remember the last deal she made with the dark-haired halfling.