Never meant to...

By Ashess

 

Every BV I ever read goes through the same motions; Veggie comes to earth, Bulma hates his guts. They grow together, Bulma breaks up with Yaumcha. Or the other way around. Blabla,… love,… mushy stuff all done.

Let’s turn things around a bit for once, ok? First of all: no mushy stuff. I can’t stand it. That’s probably why I like Vegie so much.

And, sorry Bulma isn’t much of a princess herself. I mean, let’s face it, there is a reason she can’t ride the little yellow cloud you know!

But, most important, I’m gonna start after the act, and then let our poor, confused –and slightly upset- main characters ask themselves the ultimate question:

How the hell did I just let this happen?!

Disclaimer: where you about to pay me for this fac so you could publish it? too bad. I don’t own the DBZ chars, so I’m not allowed to make any money off a this! ARCH! There goes my perfect ploy.

PS: Red this?

Liked it? Hated it? Want to tell me anything, drop me a line: [email protected]

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It was a beautiful spring morning: fresh and light with the hint of rain; the promise of new life. A morning as only spring mornings can be. The sound of chirping birds was carried in through the open window, along with a slight breeze that rocked the curtains gently.

Daily life drifted in uninvited; a soft whisper here, the trickled of a spring-fountain there.

But what finally pulled the young beauty from her sleep was the steady stream of sunlight on Bulma’s closed eyelids.

Not yet.

She pleaded, turning around and pulling the silken sheets over her eyes. Laying here, doing nothing. It just felt so good. She lay still a moment, listening to the pounding in her head. It did not hurt much yet, but she knew that as soon as she would move or even open her eyes, her hangover would surface to it’s full potential.

Kami, that was some party last night!

Or must have been. She didn’t remember all that much, really.

Bulma smiled into her pillow, before becoming aware that her legs were now bare. Probably due to her pulling the sheet over her eyes. It was cold; though it must have been well past noon, it was still early in the year. And with the window ajar a fresh breeze ran past her bare legs until she shivered, cold all over. Bulma whimpered, pulling her legs up, trying to warm herself, eyes shut tightly. Her shivering only made her pounding headache worse.

As she pulled her arms across her knees, however, her fingers brushed over a solid, warm surface. Bulma smiled again, realising the reason she was in such a good mood despite her killer hangover. So, he came home to me after all. Indeed, even with the fresh air of the outside streaming in, Bulma could still smell that sweet sting of lovemaking on her sheets.

The young woman pulled over to her lover, draping one arm across his chest and pillowing her cheek on his shoulder. She snuggled in again, trying to accumulate to his form; it somehow felt different. She finally found the crook between his arm and chest, and sighed contently. “Yaumcha….”

To her delight, her lover stirred a little, mumbling something under his breath with a content sigh.

But then, he stiffened. Bulma blinked, her eyes shooting open to the sound of his rough, low voice.

“Oh, shit!”

Filled with apprehension, the blue-haired woman lifted her head, turning to look up. Past the half drawn sheets, over his chiselled, scarred chest: too small, the marks in all the wrong places.

Onto his muscle-corded neck to his face: a sharp, pointed chin with high cheekbones. Shocked, black eyes; blacker then Yaumcha’s could ever be.

And, lastly, a flame of black straight-standing hair with a sharp widow’s peak.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed.

Until Bulma broke the spell:

She screamed.

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How the two of them had made it to the opposite sides of the room so fast was a mystery.

But there they were: Bulma’s room was a spacious chamber, but it still seemed the two lovers couldn’t get far enough away from each other. Vegeta had stumbled his way to the window next to the bed, looking for all the world like he was quite tempted to leave through it right now.

Bulma had made it even farther; all the way to the door. She stood, back pressed against it, wide-eyed with the sheet clung in front of her. She could have pulled the door open and gotten even further away from this horrible creature -this horrible situation- but the though of having to take even half a step closer to this, this beast was un-acceptable.

Not that our blue-haired lady was thinking very clearly right now; she was just panicking. She just screamed and screamed.

She didn’t actually scream anything, just produced as much sound as she could. All in the futile wish that this was all just a bad dream. One from which one her own screams could awaken her. My Kami, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

It was all her mind had room for. All she could think as she emptied her lungs, her silk sheet clutched to her body protectively, but forgotten.

Not him! Not…

As she finally had to pause to draw a breath, the errant Prince cut her off with his own ear-piercing tirade.

“Woman SHUTUP SHUT UP, STUP UP!!!”

Bulma didn’t know exactly why she complied, probably because she was hyperventilating too hard to continue. Whatever the reason, her next wail died on her throat.

The Saiyi-jin went on, however, oblivious, hands pressed over his ears protectively.

“JUST SHUT UP, YOU BITCH! IF ANYONE SHOULD BE SCREAMING IT WOULD BE”

Noticing the woman had closed her mouth, Vegeta warily lowered his hands form his ears. “me.”

All was silent. Bulma stared, frozen. Vegeta held still too, though his black eyes soon left her to dart about the room. It felt like forever; no one dared move, for whatever there reasons might be. After what seemed forever, finally, a bird outside decided all was save, and resumed his chirping.

It was too much for Bulma to take.

Staring at the naked prince, there was no way she could deny it. No way she could deny what she had done. What they had done. What he had done!

Tears brimmed her eyes, words finally returning to her.

“You used me.”

Vegeta’s eyes snapped back on her, but his frown asked for more clarification.

Our young scientist was more than happy to give it to him.

“I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing. You. You took advantage of me! You! And I-”

“Don’t be stupid woman!”

He snarled at her, still not having made a move beyond baring his teeth. “How could screwing you have any advantage for me at all!”

More birds started chirping as Bulma rolled this around her mind, confused as to what this was supposed to mean. She didn’t get a change to return fire, though. He beat her to the punch. Again.

“Now.” he said, almost cautiously taking half a step away from the window. Panic rose in the woman’s throat all the same. She did not fancy him near her!

“If you would excuse me.” He reached for the bed, stretching his arm. Her way...

Bulma gulped.

“I have training to do.”

With that, he quickly grabbed his training-shorts from the bed-sheets, jumping out the window and out if sight.

Out of hearing too, probably, but that stop Bulma to spew her gall.

“You keep the hell away from me you barbarian MONKEY!”

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A hazy streak passed across the giant gardens of Capsule Corp, passing so fast one would have thought it a trick of the light, sooner then an actual person.

His path differed as he dived down, the pulled up at the last moment to pass through the open door of the gravity room. Vegeta stopped, turned and slammed on the access controls making the doors slam shut.

Only then did he stop for a breather.

He crouched down a little, grabbing his head. Shimmata, it hurt! Everything hurt, but now his head was the worst of all. It seemed that sleeping for half a day had only made things worse. At least before, he hadn’t felt he was tired. Not like he felt it now, with a pounding vengeance. Before it had been a floating sensation. A feeling of slow motion, maybe dizziness if he moved his head too fast. It had resulted in him tripping up, or stumbling It always made him angry, and then he would start off his exercises anew.

But it had not been this mind-numbing experience that made all conscious thought impossible. Or had it been? There had to be some logical explanation of what had happened. Him not thinking straight would go a long way, but even then…

Shaking the thought –without actually moving his head-, the Saiyi-jin prince straightened, pulling on his training-shorts absent-mindedly.

He couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he thought he felt even worse now then he had the evening before.

The woman had done this, done this with her loud-mouthed screaming. Sfumatto, that had not been the proper way to wake up!

How could this have happened…?

Dismissing the tough as useless, he grimaced. “Back to training.” He commanded aloud. What was done was done. He could not help it now, much as he would have liked to. Besides, it wasn’t important. Training was important.

Trying to ignore the sweaty stench that clung to him, not to mention his pounding head he took up his basic fighting-stance, ready to begin his morning warm-up. The prince was rudely interrupted by a growling sound.

The reason he had interrupted his training. Vegeta snarled at himself. “Damn. I still haven’t eaten.” He moved back to the door, putting a hand to it as he peered out through the little window. “Now I have to go out there again.”

Something nagged at him, telling him that eating wasn’t going to help. That it wouldn’t have helped last night either. It would not take away this dizzy weak feeling, nor stop this pounding sensation. He needed something else; something very time-consuming. Vegeta growled, pushing the though away. “Fifteen minutes.” He told himself harshly. “Then we start.”

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Bulma had crawled back into bed to cry a little, but it wasn’t helping her headache one bit. Kami! She felt like her head was about to split in two. She smell on the sheet –and on her person- wasn’t helping much either; sex and sweat and him. As she lay there, she hear headache increasing with every beat of her heart, she kept feeling dirtier and dirtier, until finally the need for shower won over the need to sleep.

Bulma sighed, wrapping her blanket about her as she dragged herself over to the shower. She just dropped the blanket on the floor, along with a bunch of other discarded towels, and turned on the shower.

She didn’t step in yet tough; first things first! Rubbing her head, she pulled open the medicine cabinet, rummaging trough it loudly. She winced a little as a throb in her head answered these sounds, but she soon found what she was looking for; a bottle of aspirins. With a weak but triumphant smile, she took out two, but then reconsidered and took three.

It also took her three turns to swallow the stuff, her throat dry from the alcohol. But she was too miserable to open the tap and bend her head down for a drink, so she dry-swallowed them anyway. Then, finally, she swayed around for a long, refreshing shower.

Bulma didn’t know how long she stood there, turning the water hotter and hotter. Fact was, after three times of scrubbing her whole body, and washing her hair twice, she still felt dirty. She sighed a little, turning the faucet closed. At least her headache was lulling. And now she was getting thirsty, and hungry besides. The young scientist pulled the last clean shower from the rack, and towelled herself off slowly.

Only when she was about to discard this towel on the mounting heap did she notice. She always had her towels cleaned away; there shouldn’t be five on the floor already.

The only reason for towels to be on the floor now, was if they had been used last night and she… Kami, she really didn’t want to know.

Bulma flew back to her room, shooting into some clothes quickly. Only when she was fully dressed did she glance back to the bed. Fuck this she though, getting more and more pissed with the entire situation by the second. I’m just gonna let the cleaning-lade take care of this mess, and be damned I care what she thinks about it.

Holding that though, she stomped down the stairs. It wasn’t my fault anyway. I was drunk; I wasn’t thinking,..-

Bulma froze at the entrance to the kitchen. There he was, the cause to all her discomfort, slumped in a chair with his back to her. Bulma was about to turn tail and run, when she noticed he wasn’t moving; except for his chest heaving up and down with slow, rhythmic breathes. Bulma cautiously crept around, getting a look of his face, head cushioned by his arm as he lay fast asleep across her kitchen table.

She snorted a little, noting the stacks of food piled up in front on him. But she didn’t care. Grabbing an apple off the counter she shrugged, leaving the prince to his dreams of dinner.

‘Stupid Saiyi-jin.’ She considered as she made her way to her lab.

‘He’s been living here for months now, and I swear he never once found his way to his own bed.’

And why the hell did he have to go and find his way to her bed instead anyway?

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Vegeta turned his hand at the beep, disintegrating the annoying alarm clock within a blink of the eye.

This is ridiculous.

He had already turned back to his training when he sighed wearily, remembering his earlier resolve. Damn him! He would at least try this. Yes; the Saiyi-jin prince was trying to overcome one of his greatest problems since he had come to this lush-green planet; one of the greatest enigma’s that had come to his attention now that his space-faring days were gone.

Sleep.

Vegeta had slept all day, across that kitchen-table; Mrs. Briefs had finally felt the need to wake him around dinner time, asking in that irritatingly cheery voice if he would like anything to eat. Vegeta had reluctantly assented and eaten, before locking himself in his gravity room once again. But this time with a plan. And the alarm clock had been the centre of this plan. ( Vegeta grudgingly realised that meant he would have to get a new one now. )

He would plan this, set aside time for it. Find out how it worked. Now that it was evening once again, he would do this properly.

Sleep.

At the time that he’d been on Freeza’s purging army, such basic problems were never his concern; Freeza’s soldiers simply did not sleep. Rather, they travelled space in a gas-induced comatose. It must have somehow provided the same function, for Vegeta had always felt refreshed after a good long trip –though, in all honesty, he’d never much enjoyed that cramped way of space-travel.

Missions didn’t usually take much more then a week, nor did the Saiyi-jin prince ever spent more then a few days waiting for his next mission. It was only now that Vegeta had begun to recognise that odd feeling of rest when he’d departed for another purging, or was about to return from one.

Sleep.

As such, the first time he’d come across the ‘sleep-problem’ was on Nameck. He had cursed himself a million times for forgetting about one of his most basic needs, simply because he had not had to provide for it since early childhood. And even then he had greatly underestimated the problem.

An hour, he’d given himself. How gullible! By now, the Saiyi-jin was beginning to see the extent of the problem; Humans slept for many long hours, every night.

And him? Well, let’s just say it was quite possible this sleeping-thing was going to take even more of his-training time then stopping to eat already did.

Still, he had little choice.

Sleep.

Sullenly, Vegeta stomped up the stairs, looking up the endless hallway as he tried to remember which room had been allocated to him. Months ago. Now was actually the first time he was going to use it.

Use it to sleep.

The idea was appalling, the prince considered as he opened the door of what he assumed was his room; sleeping this natural, slow way had all sort of odd side effects. One of the worst, however, were the odd memories and made-up stories that came floating into his mind.

Ideas both useless and ridiculous, usually twisting everything that had happened to him that day into odd tales that had no bearing to the truth whatsoever. These were nuisances, but the old memories bothered him even worse. Memories of a childhood he had all but forgotten, occurrences he did not even remember until these dreams brought them back to him.

Dream.

Vegeta did not need any of them; they were a constant distraction. The prince had half a mind to ask the woman to manufacture him some of the sleeping gas; it would surely take care of his problems. But somehow, he was growing very uncomfortable with the idea he could not live without such technology; Freeza’s technology.

So, this Saiyi-jin was just going to have to learn. The hard way.

Vegeta dropped to the bed, fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Sleep.

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Bulma lay in her bad, staring at the ceiling silently. Clean sheets, clean blankets, clean pillows. But still, his scent was all over the place. And the memories! God, they were all coming back now. She didn’t want to know! The two of them, intertwined. His voice in her ear as he kept insulting her: her looks, her brains and her sanity. Her amused drunken laughter at all of this, as she could not believe his words. Would not believe. Her head reeling as she sat atop of him, straddling his waist with an evil smirk on her face. His eyes, dark and aroused but somehow a little sad as he told her again what she already knew.

“You’re drunk.”

Their bodies sliding across each other, slick with sweat and love and... Oh!

Kami! What was she going to do?

What was she going to tell Yaumcha?

Bulma whimpered once, but then gasped. What about protection? Had she even bothered? She couldn’t remember; and with all the other memories returning, that was a bad sign. And that errant Saiyi-jin prince of hers? She doubted he even knew the meaning of the word!

The blue-haired scientist opened her mouth wide this time, face contracted in a painful sneer. Surely, the gods wouldn’t be that cruel. Things were bad enough as they were! Kami, what had she ever done to deserve this?

Bulma wailed the night away.

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Vegata sat on his place at the kitchen table with a satisfied smirk on his face. All unwanted dreams aside, it had been a refreshing night, and he was pretty confident he would get the hang of this sleep thing in to time flat; sure, he had spent an abhorrent amount of time sleeping this night, but surely he could screw the quota down soon.

Another pleasant circumstance was that now, today, he had awoken around the same time as Mrs and Mr Briefs. The blond airhead had, much to her husband’s chagrin invited Vegeta to have breakfast with them. Vegeta had ‘gracefully’ complied; unlike her daughter, Mrs Briefs could actually cook!

Yes, Vegeta reflected as he smirked at the plate of stacked omelettes that was placed in front of him, life isn’t too bad.

Not too bad at all.

It was in this uncharacteristically happy mood that Bulma found him when she made her way down the stairs. She slumped down in the seat opposite to him, a look of utter defeat on her face.

Now, it wasn’t in Vegeta’s nature to be overly sensitive about these things, but even he could not miss her puffed up, red eyes; her sad frown, and her messy hair, not to mention the fact that she was still wearing her robe and nighty. Usually, she was already all dressed up when she came down for dinner.

No; something was obviously wrong.

Vegeta looked right to left, but the woman’s father had his nose firmly planted within a newspaper, and the blonde was still cooking away merrily.

Determined to show he wasn’t still mad at her for the other night –for let’s be fair, it had all been her fault - he decided to let her know he cared.

“Woman.” He told her in his nicest voice. “You look absolutely hideous.”

The woman did not take this the right way.

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Three weeks; that had all happened three weeks ago, and him and the woman were still not on speaking terms. Vegeta frowned a little, pointedly forgetting about that one last training bot. It blasted the Saiyi-jin a couple of times, before the man got tired of the thing and incinerated it; Time to demand an upgrade.

He would have to ask the old man; the woman wasn’t even nagging him about dinner anymore. Hell, he hadn’t even seen her face since three weeks ago.

He didn’t really mind.

It was just… odd. She’d never stayed mad this long before, and Vegeta couldn’t for his life think of anything especially mean he had said during that particular fight, unless.

Unless…

Three weeks ago...

When he startled awake again, realising he’d drifted off for the third time within hours, Vegeta had known this was no good.

Oddly enough, he realised as he lifted his head from the floor, he wasn’t mad any more. Just tired. The Saiyi-jin sat up slowly and stiffly against the heightened gravity, then tried to swallow that odd, thick taste from his mouth. It was already getting cold in the gravity-simulator; without Vegeta’s own heat and his Ki-blasts, it always turned cold quickly. To the prince, it meant he must have been out for over fifteen minutes. Why?

He’d taken good care of himself. Eaten enough, cared for his injuries. Why then did he feel so goddamned weak?

Whatever the reasons, the choices seemed simple; either start his series of sit-ups anew – and probably pass out at around three hundred again -, or get back to the house and eat something to get his strength up. As the Saiyi-jin was currently in one of his more realistic moods, he chose the latter.

When the doors swished open, Vegeta was pleasantly surprised; it was the dead of night, still a few hours until daybreak. Which meant he would be able to enter Capsule Corp, have a pleasant meal, and leave again. All without having to deal with that woman and abhorrent hollering –nor having to deal with anyone else for that matter.

That too was a good thing. He probably looked a mess. Vegeta certainly felt a mess as he staggered through the gardens, that illusion of weightlessness fading much too fast for his liking. Perhaps, as a precaution, he should have bothered with a shirt, or at least a towel. But going back; it was such a long way. And he wasn’t cold. Not any more.

It was at that moment Vegeta had what was probably the worst idea of his entire life; he wanted to lie down. Not amongst the flowerbeds though; that didn’t suit him at all. No, after a few more steps, the Saiji-jin let himself fall back on the gravel path instead. The rocks were a bit sharp, but he wasn’t in the mood to care. Rather, it felt right that way. Somewhere in the back of his head, that worried him.

Staring up, he wondered what was wrong with himself.

And got a disturbing answer when one of the few misty clouds moved out of his line of vision. Vegeta let out something that sounded disturbingly close to a sob to those that didn’t know Saiyi-jins didn’t cry. Oh, this is rich. He chuckled at himself as the full moon illuminated the gardens, giving those spring flower buds an eerie glow.

No Ouzaro’s were going to destroy this planet tonight.

In fact, no Ouzaro’s were going to be destroying any planet anywhere again. Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the moon in suspicion. Yes; funny how every Saiyi-jin that came to attack this little planet either ended up dead or with his tail cut off, docilely helping to protect it.

Well, this Saiyi-jin wasn’t docile yet! And if anyone was going to try brain-washing him into a nice, friendly all around guy that would give his life to protect his planet and family, they were sure Vegeta would teach them exactly what ‘purging’ meant first! Oh, they were smart, the Saiyi-jin prince admitted as he went all the way on his paranoia-trip, whoever they were. But just because they’d gotten his tail when his back was turned didn’t mean he’d let them mess with his mind.

Then again, if they showed up right now, with the prince too miserable to lift his own hand…

It was ironic, really. The first time in his life that he could go were he wanted, do what he wanted. Kill whoever he felt like, and all the Saiyi-jin prince felt like was lie down and feel sorry for himself. So, this is what freedom feels like. Funny, he didn’t fee free. He felt… cheated.

No revenge, no Saiyi-jin empire to rule, no ‘lord and master of the galaxy’. No nothing, thanks to a certain third-class no-body –and, incidentally, his only living subject. Irony? Oh, but that was nothing yet. A prince of a race of planetary exterminators wasn’t all that free to go where he wanted either. There weren’t many races that wouldn’t know him on sight; all would either run from him, fight till the last man, or surrender and eventually sent their snipers at him when his guard was down.

That, or all three.

No, things were looking very grim for his plans of world-domination.

He supposed he could go and find some far off planet like Chikyu, where no one had yet heard of ‘Saiyi-jins. Try to rebuild the Saiyi-jin Empire by finding a planet with natives that could actually interbreed with Saiyi-jins –slim as the chances of that were.

But the thought of Kakaroth getting wind of this, and then flying over to give him a solid butt kicking if the prince didn’t make a very good king. (Hell, he certainly hadn’t been planning on being a good king. What was the point of power when you weren’t allowed to use it?)

Another practical problem came to mind; for him to rebuild a Saiyi-jin empire, all the children would have to be his –seeing as Kakaroth certainly wouldn’t be willing to help. Vegeta sneered silently, the thought of a thousand of his own half-breeds running around making him feel physically ill. A thousand half-breeds with his face, his hair but somehow with that brat Gohan’s persona all running around, all screaming ‘daddy daddy’ at him.

Just then, he heard the crunch of boots right next to his head.

He should have moved; usually, he could have moved. He didn’t, and whoever had been walking up the lawn fell right on top of him with a loud squeak. Vegeta just grunted as she landed with her elbow in his stomach.

Honestly, it isn’t that dark! Surely, humans could see well enough with a full moon out like this. The woman groaned, rolling over, and –thankfully- off of him. She sat up, and looked down at him wide-eyed. It was her, of course. Just his rotten luck.

“Vegeta” she slurred out so loud it hurt his ears. ‘Godths you’re as cold as the ground! What are you doing out here?”

It took him a couple of times to find his voice, but at least his thoughts were collected by then. “What does it look like? I’m just lying around.” She squinted her eyes at him, as if she actually doubted the truth in this. The woman looked quite ridiculous that way.

Finally, after looking at him that way like what seemed forever, she got to her unsteady feet. “Yeah, but … why?”

He was desperately hoping she would leave by now. Vegeta had almost been dozing off. It had felt so relaxed. “Just taking a break, you know, sunbathing or whatever you call it.”

She frowned, putting her hands on her hips, and raised her voice another notch. “Vegeta! You can’t sunbathe at night. Besides, it’s March and practically frrrheezing. You have to come in rright this minute.”

It was at about this time the Saiyi-jin made an observation. “Have you been drinking?”

-“Just a li-hitle.” She giggled, before sobering up. A bit. “But that’s not the point. You hafthe come in before you freeze.”

Now he really wished she’d leave. Actually, Vegeta wasn’t so sure he still could get up. “I can use my Ki to warm myself.”

Bulma blinked. “Oh?”

It had worked.

“Thfen why don’t you?”

Or, maybe not.

The prince decided on a different approach. “Go away.”

Then cursed his own stupidity. She didn’t, of course. Goddamned earth-women never did what you told them to, so Vegeta guessed he should have known. He tried one more time. “You’re blocking my moonlight?”

Bulma swayed, then crouched down to him, tucking on his arm. “Don’t be funny.” She told him, getting a firm grip on his hand as she straightened. “You’re not going to turn Ousssaro or anytfhing anyway. Come on inside.”

Vegeta decided to let her tug at his arm, confident that the little scientist couldn’t lift him anyway. He was more then a little surprised when she succeeded in pulling him along a bit. Just a foot or so, and the woman shuffled a bit further, bracing herself again for the next pull.

Bare skin over grinded rock.

By the third ‘pull’, the prince had had enough. “Ok ok, fine then, woman. Just... gimme.”

A hand?

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Bulma was crying by the time she reached the gravity room. This isn’t fair! Kami, it wasn’t. Just one little slip up; one little mistake, and while she was reeling drunk too! Things hadn’t even seemed all that bad at first; almost like it had never happened.

Yaumcha had been surprisingly forgiving when she’d finally found the courage to confess; in fact, he’d just shushed her and told her to take it easy for a couple of weeks; to ‘think on their relation-ship’.

It wasn’t until now that she’d realised he had seemed a little… relieved at her confession. That bastard! Always had been too hesitant to really make a commitment; probably thought this was the perfect opportunity to weasel out on her. Damn him!

And it was. Hell, this was his perfect chance!

The blue-haired scientist overrode the controls to the door, tears streaming down her face unhidden.

After a few angry seconds, the door finally opened with a loud ‘clang’. She didn’t dare enter with all that gravity, as much as she wanted to. Go in and slap that Saiyi-jin bastard inside. Slap him hard.

There he was, right inside, hovering up in the air. He turned as soon as he heard the door. “Woman!” the man sounded as bad-tempered as ever. “Don’t you know better then to…”

-“Vegeta! Damn you!” She screeched at him, too upset to feel smug at his surprised look. “Damn you, Vegeta. I’m pregnant!”

He had been cold; drunks she might be, but not stupid.

Much unlike a certain Saiyi-jin prince. Hell, he’d been more then cold. Bulma had spent over fifteen minutes on the man, after she’d shoved him in her shower, shorts and all. Fifteen minutes of turning up the heat slowly, ignoring his curses and loud proclamations that she was trying to boil him alive.

Sure, she’d maybe hurried things along a bit. But the guy was supposed to be indestructible, and she was too drunk to stand around in the bathroom any longer then she already had. He didn’t show much gratitude now either; especially if you considered she had all but carried him up the stairs, considering the trouble she’d gone through to towel him off, and considering how she’d now gracefully offered him her bed.

She looked him over, sprawled out on the bed like a rag-doll; he still hadn’t moved beyond pulling himself onto it all the way. On the up side, he had at least stopped insulting her for the moment. Oh well, one last thing, and she could leave his highness to sulk on his own.

Bulma had blanched at it before, but she now told herself she was sober enough to get this over with; after all, she couldn’t put a man with hypothermia in bed wearing soaking wet shorts, now could she?

She giggled at herself, then tried to walk a straight path to the bed.

Failing, she all but clattered unto it, telling herself she would just have to sleep on the couch tonight.

Bulma was getting sleepy by now, and the half-dark room wasn’t helping much either, but despite her reeling head, she found what she had been looking for. That was when she made her mistake; she looked up at him.

That beautifully six-packed stomach, and his broad, strong chest. Perfect despite the marring scars. His shoulders, his neck; all corded with muscle. And his face, Kami, his eyes, staring at her; dark and sad and so much more.

Bulma giggled; she had to tell him what she’d never noticed before.

“You’re beautiful.”

He cocks his head to the side, as if considering, but soon answers her. The way she should have expected him to. “That’s because you’re used to looking at baka humans. Of course I’d be better looking then a human; you’re all so ugly, it’s hard not to.” He spoke softer then usual though; or maybe it was the alcohol dolling the barbs. All that Bulma did was pout. “You ffthink I’m ugly?”

“Obviously. I mean, look at you. For starters, you’re one limb short.”

She frowns at him, clueless, before flopping down on his stomach with a triumphant smile. “Hah!” and she goes as far as to prod a finger at him. “You don’t have a tail anyth-more either Misstarrr!”

“Don’t remind me. I’m still very angry about that.” But he doesn’t look it. Kami, she likes him a lot better when doesn’t look mad.

“And then, there’s the hair.” He continues in that conversational tone she’d never heard of him before. “Look at it; all limp and soft and silky. That’s just wrong.”

And touches it, as if to prove his point, or make sure that it really was soft and silky.

When he drops his hand again he finally brakes that stare, to look at the ceiling instead.

She’s offended, but still amused.

Oh, she’d show him.

“So, you think I’m ugly?” She challenges, pulling his attention back.

That surprised look makes her giggle again as she casts her shirt and top aside, then sits up straight for his inspection. Showing off her own perfection; she knows she’s perfect.

Perfect. Everything’s spinning, but the young woman just feels good; good and alive.

“Very ugly.” He concludes. “I mean look at you. Cream white skin, no muscles to speak off…” She giggles again. Doesn’t really know why it’s so funny, it just is. As she shifts her weight so does his point of conversation.

“And you obviously can’t hold your licker. Woman?”

It only makes her laugh louder. Tears are practically streaming down her face. “Woman?”

It takes her a moment, but she calms herself, scooting down on him a bit so she can look him in the face and steady her swaying motion with a hand on the bed at the same time. She just grins at him though, feeling stupidly funny and wicked.

“Bulma. Do you have any idea…?”

What you’re doing…?

“Fine then.”

Within a heartbeat she’s the one on the bed, on her back. Half drowning in her own sheets, and he’s right there on top.

But somehow, for some odd reason, it’s still all so goddamned funny she can’t stop laughing.

“Hmm-hmm. Yes, just as I thought.” He confides in her as she wraps her legs around him. “I’m not an expert on Saiyi-jin women, seeing as how they’re all dead. But if they weren’t I’m pretty sure their breast would be a lot softer and rounder and more perfect then yours.”

‘Dream on!’ She wants to tell him, but can’t, because she’s laughing too hard to speak. And keeps on laughing at his complaints.

“Mmph baka, that down there’s all wrong too.”

“I’ll have you know I don’t take kindly to being laughed at.”

“I could just blast you, you know.”

“Gods, Woman, you are drunk!”