.:TWENTY-TWO:.
Bulma closed the bathroom door behind her, her heart skipping with excitement. Vegeta hadn't outright refused her request to join her for a swim. He'd only let out one of his signature grunts, which she had learned over time was his version of an agreement. That was more than enough for her.
Quickly, she peeled off her shirt and Vegeta's shorts, letting them fall haphazardly onto the tiled floor, and slipped into one of her favorite black bikinis. The fabric clung snugly to her curves as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and smirked.
With no time to waste, she swirled a capful of mouthwash around her mouth while brushing through her hair. She spritzed a light mist of her favorite perfume at her neck and wrist and added a quick swipe of waterproof mascara to her lashes. When she stepped back and admired her reflection, she felt a small thrill of satisfaction. She looked and felt more like herself than she had all day.
Just as she was about to leave, something tugged at her memory. Pausing, she opened the top drawer on the bathroom counter and pulled out a small blue pouch—her birth control pack. Her fingers froze when she flipped open the package. A wave of dread sank in her stomach like a stone. She'd missed last week's dose.
Her chest tightened as she stared at the untouched pill slot. With trembling fingers, she popped out both last week's and this week's pills. Her rational mind told her doubling up now would catch her up. Years of consistency surely meant her body could handle it. She placed both pills on her tongue, turned on the faucet, and cupped her hands under the cool stream of water to wash them down.
As the pills slid down her throat, she gripped the edge of the counter, staring blankly at her reflection. The initial giddiness was now tinged with unease, but she quickly shook her head and straightened up. It's fine. Everything is fine, she told herself firmly. Smiling once more, she pushed off the counter. Bulma swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat, and tried to push her spiraling thoughts aside, but it was useless.
The thought of getting pregnant now—especially by him—sent a chill racing down her spine. She couldn't afford that kind of complication, not with the impending Androids that were supposedly coming. And the idea of being pregnant with Vegeta's child? That was a whole different level of absurdity. It wasn't like he was a stranger in the next town over; Vegeta was a mortal enemy of nearly everyone she cared about.
Determined not to dwell on it any longer, she returned to the present. She adjusted her bikini top, making sure everything was perfectly situated. With one final glance in the mirror, she smoothed down her hair and squared her shoulders. The bathroom suddenly felt stifling, and she couldn't stand being in there for another second. She pushed open the door, stepping out with purpose, eager to leave her worries behind.
Vegeta remained exactly where she had left him, as though he hadn't moved a muscle since she'd excused herself to the bathroom. A small smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it, and when he turned his head to look at her, all her earlier thoughts about birth control and the potential pregnancy were swept away.
Bulma disappeared into her walk-in closet. She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pair of swim trunks. They had once belonged to Yamcha, but that didn't matter now. It wasn't like Vegeta would know or care about their origin.
"Here," she said, tossing the trunks towards him as she exited the closet. "You can wear these."
Vegeta snatched the shorts out of the air without so much as flinching. Then, what he did next made her heart skip a beat. Without hesitation, he dropped the shorts he'd been wearing before her and began pulling on the swim trunks she'd handed him.
Bulma froze, blinking rapidly as her brain scrambled to process what she had just witnessed. The sight of him so casually stripping down in her presence left her both flustered and oddly intrigued. He'd never undressed so casually in front of her before. Yes, they'd had sex multiple times, but she had to wonder if this meant something deeper. Her thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of confusion. What exactly were they to each other now? Did Vegeta see her as more than just someone he could share a bed with? Or was this something else entirely? Or was she overthinking every single thing?
To be fair, Bulma had never imagined their lives intertwining like they had. And now, the way the Saiyan seemed completely at ease in her space, how he showed no hesitation or embarrassment, made her wonder if perhaps he was becoming more comfortable around her. The thought sent a little flutter through her chest, unbidden and unwelcome but impossible to ignore.
"What?" Vegeta's gruff voice broke through Bulma's swirling thoughts, snapping her back to reality.
For a moment, Bulma couldn't find her voice. The way his sharp, dark eyes were fixed on her felt like they could see straight through her, reading every flustered thought in her head. Heat crept up her neck and spread to her cheeks, and before she could embarrass herself further, she spun on her heel and darted back into her closet.
Inside, she leaned against the wall, pressing her cool palms against her face. She couldn't shake the image of him standing there, utterly unbothered as he undressed. With a sigh, she shook her head and rifled through her clothes, choosing a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt.
By the time she emerged, she felt a little more in control. Vegeta stood there, arms crossed, radiating his usual air of confidence and detachment, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for her. Somehow, the sight reassured her.
"Ready?" she asked, forcing her tone to sound light.
"Hn," Vegeta grunted in his typical noncommittal response.
Down in Capsule Corp, Bulma shut the heavy door of the pool room behind them. She grabbed a couple of towels from a nearby rack and tossed them onto the lounge chairs next to the pool.
Vegeta, without saying a word, strode past her toward the pool. He paused briefly at the small ladder before slipping into the water. Bulma watched him for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips before she turned her attention back to herself. She peeled off her t-shirt and shorts. Knowing his eyes were on her, she strolled casually toward the diving board.
"Are you leaving?" he asked, his voice breaking the silence of the large room.
Bulma turned her head and chuckled. "No."
With that, she climbed onto the diving board. Her feet bounced lightly as she jumped a few times, testing the springs. Then, with a mischievous grin, she launched into a cannonball, her laughter echoing through the room as she hit the water.
She resurfaced a moment later, her head popping up beside the Saiyan. Vegeta's expression was predictably sour. His brow furrowed as he looked at her with irritation and confusion.
"Relax, Vegeta!" she teased, swimming closer and playfully grabbing his arm.
But Vegeta didn't relax. In fact, he looked… stunned. His eyes widened slightly as he stared at her.
"What?" she asked, her laughter fading. Then, following his gaze, she looked down at herself—and froze.
Her eyes widened when she realized her bikini top was missing. The water rippled around her, but her top was nowhere in sight. A gasp escaped her lips, and she immediately wrapped her arms around her chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"Help me find it!" she squeaked, her voice high-pitched and frantic.
She scanned the surface of the pool for her missing bikini top.
"Over there," Bulma said with relief, pointing to the far corner of the pool where the dark fabric floated.
Before she could do a thing, Vegeta started swimming toward it. Within moments, he reached her top, and just as his fingers gripped the fabric, the loud creak of the double doors opening got their attention.
"Mrs. Brief, I came to ask—" a nervous voice began, halting mid-sentence.
Hiroshi, her father's assistant, stood frozen in the doorway, his clipboard clutched tightly in one hand. His wide eyes landed on Bulma, and his face turned red as his glasses slipped down his nose. He hastily pushed them up, unable to look anywhere but at her.
Bulma gasped, her cheeks blazing with embarrassment, and she immediately covered herself. And before she could say anything, Vegeta moved with lightning speed. Instantly, he was out of the pool and standing toe-to-toe with Hiroshi.
"Vegeta!" Bulma yelled, her voice filled with panic.
Her heart pounded as she watched the scene unfold in what felt like slow motion. Vegeta's fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms flexing as his gaze locked onto Hiroshi. Without a word of warning, Vegeta's left hand shot forward, delivering a devastating punch square into Hiroshi's face.
"Vegeta, stop!" Bulma screamed.
Hiroshi stumbled back, crashing to the ground with a pained yelp. Blood streamed from his nose, but Vegeta wasn't finished. In the blink of an eye, he bent down and grabbed Hiroshi by the collar of his lab coat, lifting him from the floor, and Vegeta's fist connected with his face. Again. Again. And again. Each strike more brutal than the last.
"VEGETA!" Bulma screamed, her voice echoing off the tiled walls of the room.
Panic surged through her as she swam toward the ladder, her strokes faster than ever. By the time she scrambled out of the water, Hiroshi was a bloody mess—his nose clearly broken, his glasses shattered, and blood smeared across his face and clothes.
Bulma sprinted over to them, water dripping from her as she tried to throw herself between Vegeta and his victim. Wrapping her hands around Vegeta's powerful arm, she pulled with all her strength, trying to stop him before things went any further.
"Vegeta, stop! You'll kill him!" she cried, her voice trembling as she clung to his arm, her wet hair plastered to her face.
To her surprise, Vegeta hesitated, his fist frozen mid-swing, as his chest heaved with rage while he glared down at Hiroshi, who groaned weakly in Vegeta's grasp. Bulma tightened her grip, pleading with him.
"Please, Vegeta," she said softly, her voice shaking.
xXx
The rage that surged through Vegeta's body was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His blood boiled with a fury that made his vision blur at the edges, and his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked under the strain. This pitiful human male before him, battered and bloodied, had seen Bulma exposed, topless. It had ignited a primal anger he had never felt before, even under Frieza's rule.
Vegeta thought he knew the limits of his wrath after years and years of servitude, humiliation, and bloodshed under the tyrant, but this—this was different. It was personal. This male had trespassed into his territory, and Vegeta could not allow it.
With a savage roar, his fist collided with the man's face again. The crunch of bone against flesh rang in his ears, but it wasn't enough to quell the fire raging inside him. Vegeta reared back to strike; however, her voice stopped him again.
"Vegeta, stop!" Bulma's voice cracked, desperate, as her hands tried pulling him away with all the strength she could muster.
He could feel her fear and sense her desperation. And somehow, it was able to cut through the chaos in his mind. Vegeta's chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, his body still coiled with tension and rage.
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling as a single tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek. "Let him go."
The sight of that tear broke something inside him. His fists unclenched, and the human male dropped into an unconscious heap on the ground. Vegeta's shoulders drooped slightly as he felt the adrenaline began to ebb. He swallowed as he straightened, unable to speak. He simply stared at her.
Without a word, she stepped closer, her small hand resting against his cheek briefly. "Thank you."
With her touch, the storm inside him began to quiet, his anger no longer out of control. Her touch was gentle but firm, anchoring him to the here and now, pulling him away from the brink of killing someone who, in reality, had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Vegeta straightened, his posture stiff but less aggressive as he turned his gaze back to the unconscious man on the floor. He exhaled sharply through his nose, then looked back at Bulma. Her face was pale, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"He saw you without your top on!" Vegeta snarled, unable to keep his thoughts to himself. His piercing gaze bore into hers, his fury flaring anew. But then his eyes dropped to her still exposed chest. His breath hitched.
"You're still undressed!"
Bulma's cheeks flushed as she crossed her arms over her chest in frustration, glaring up at him.
"Vegeta, who cares!" she shot back, her tone biting. "You were beating Hiroshi to death!"
Anger surged through Vegeta's spine as he stared down at her.
"I care!" he bellowed, his voice booming as he jabbed a finger into his chest.
The rawness of his words hung heavy in the air. As soon as they left his mouth, his brain caught up to what he just admitted, and he regretted it immediately. His eyes widened in panic, and embarrassment swept over him like a tidal wave.
Bulma froze, her lips parting slightly in surprise. The silence that followed was almost deafening. Vegeta's heart thudded violently against his ribs as he stared at her, her expression something he couldn't quite place.
Vegeta furrowed his brow and turned his back to her, cursing under his breath as he felt heat flush his face.
"Get dressed," he muttered gruffly, his tone low.
Without giving her a chance to respond, he strode toward the door. He didn't glance back, didn't wait to see her reaction. Instead, he yanked the door open and stepped out, leaving her standing there with the unconscious human on the floor.
As he stepped out into the empty hallway, Vegeta exhaled heavily as he leaned against the wall. He balled his hands into fists as he replayed the moment in his head, cursing himself for speaking before he thought. He'd allowed his emotions to get the better of him.
He could not allow that again.
xXx
An hour later, Bulma stood beneath the hot stream of her shower, letting the water run over her body as she tried to process the whirlwind of events that had unfolded through the day. So much had happened since the moment her eyes had fluttered open this morning. It felt like a week's worth of chaos had been crammed into a single day. But now, as she finally found a moment of solitude, one nagging thought pushed all others aside at the moment.
Her stomach twisted as she replayed the moment she realiezed her mistake. It had been years since she'd missed a dose of her birth control. Bulma prided herself on being responsible about it, even when her relationship with Yamcha had started to crumble. Toward the end of their time together, they'd been fighting more than anything else, and their intimacy had dwindled to almost nothing. Back then, pregnancy hadn't been much of a concern.
But now…things were different.
Bulma hadn't expected their physical relationship to turn into anything consistent. And now the possibility of getting pregnant loomed over her like a dark cloud, sending ripples of unease through her chest.
She ran her hands through her wet hair, lathering shampoo absently as her thoughts raced. The idea of having a child was overwhelming in itself. But a child with Vegeta? Her mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the implications. He wasn't the type of man to settle down, and he definitely wasn't the type to willingly take on the role of a father. Not to mention, his focus was always on training, consumed by his pursuit of power. How would he even react to the news?
Bulma's hands paused as the water rinsed away the suds, and she pressed her palms against the cool tile wall. A wave of anxiety crashed over her, tightening her chest. The idea of confronting him with something like that was almost too much to bear. She knew without a doubt he would leave her then.
Shaking her head, Bulma stepped back fully under the stream, letting the warmth soothe her tense muscles. She told herself there was no reason to panic. Not yet. Still, Bulma couldn't ignore the way her stomach twisted with nerves that refused to leave her mind. For the first time in a long while, Bulma found herself unsure of the path ahead.
Her mind was miles away, still replaying the chaos of the day. Hiroshi had thankfully only come away with a broken nose. And after being treated by Kenji, the company doctor, he'd been sent home in a cab. It could have been so much worse. Vegeta could have killed him with a single blow if he'd truly wanted to, but he hadn't. Somehow, despite his fiery temper, he had held back—just like he had when he'd fought Yamcha in the kitchen all those months ago.
The memory of that fight surfaced briefly, unbidden, and she shivered despite the warmth of the water. Vegeta's strength was terrifying. Yet there was a strange comfort in knowing that even at his angriest, he hadn't gone too far.
Her thoughts circled back to the moment that had set everything off—Hiroshi walking in on her while she'd been topless. Her father's assistant had turned a bright shade of red, immediately giving himself away that he had seen her exposed as she floated in the pool. Vegeta had quickly vacated the water to confront him. But why?
Had Vegeta been jealous? The thought made her stomach flip in a way she didn't want to acknowledge. Or was it something deeper? More primal? Had his instincts taken over, spurring him to attack simply because someone else had seen her in a way that, to him, was forbidden?
Bulma let out another sigh. She had conducted extensive research on Saiyans over the years, ever since she'd met Goku, piecing together what little information existed on their culture and behavior. One thing that stood out in all her findings was their strong sense of possessiveness. Saiyans were incredibly protective of what they considered theirs, whether it was their pride, territory, or… their mate.
Her heart skipped a beat at that last thought, and she quickly shook her head. But the thoughts lingered no matter how hard she tried to dismiss it. And if so, what did it mean for them? For their complicated relationship? Bulma's mind felt as tangled as her hair as she lathered conditioner into the strands with a frustrated huff, wishing she could shut off her brain for just a moment. But it seemed impossible.
"I care!"
The sentence echoed in her mind, making her heart beat faster every time she replayed them. Had he misspoken? Or had he truly meant it? The thought was almost laughable, yet it lingered, refusing to be dismissed. Vegeta—the proud, arrogant, and emotionally impenetrable Saiyan Prince—caring about her? It seemed impossible. And yet, the fierce protectiveness he had shown earlier was undeniable.
Bulma turned her face into the warm spray of the shower, letting the water rinse the suds from her hair as she tried to steady the whirlwind of her thoughts swirling in her mind. A lump formed in her throat as she swallowed hard, grappling with the implications of what had happened. She had never truly allowed herself to entertain the idea of Vegeta feeling anything beyond the physical attractiveness they felt toward each other. Real emotions, she assumed, were a foreign concept to him.
Her hands trembled as Bulma rinsed the last of the conditioner from her hair. She couldn't imagine Vegeta groveling at her feet or spilling his guts in a heartfelt confession. That wasn't who he was.
Bulma closed her eyes, letting the water run down her face as she smiled to herself. Whatever was happening between them—whatever was growing between them—was real. And for the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of excitement and hope about where this unexpected connection might lead.