Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Taste of Heat ❯ Enemy Mine ( Chapter 1 )

Bulma stripped off her clothes in an angry rant. Cloth shredded as she tore the business suit and stockings. One shoe after the other slammed into the wall. Angrily she threw herself onto her bed, sobbing her eyes out as she clutched the nearest stuffed animal. Then she peered across at the picture of her and her father. Picking it up she hurled it against the mirror, shattering it.

 

Vegeta heard the glass breaking. He stopped by the door to peer through it, easing it open a crack. Bulma was storming around the room, seizing anything breakable and smashing it into the walls. This angry display did not square with her former admissions of his correctness. He had suspected she was simply yielding so he would leave her alone, giving him the feeling that he'd proved he was superior.

 

That wasn't what he wanted. With disgust he realized he had done precisely what Freiza had done. He was little better then a bully. Something that had no honor. Drawing in his breath he wondered if the damage to her ego was irreparably. Just why he should be so worried he didn't question. He enjoyed their verbal sparring as a highlight of his day. It wouldn't be the same without her spirited blue eyes flashing with that rage.

 

Carefully he picked his way through the mess of clothing. Bulma's clothes lay scattered. The dull rush of a shower covered the sounds of someone sobbing. They reverberated on tile, reaching Vegeta's sensitive ears. His heart pounded more strongly, irritating him. Shoving away his disgust he decided to satisfy his curiosity for just how damaged the woman's emotions were.

 

Stealthily he swung open her bathroom door. He slipped off his white boots, setting them to one side. His feet made no noise on the tile floor, in only his socks. Bulma's shape huddled against the glassy shower door, her blue hair huddled over her body. He smelled the chemicals of tears mingled with strawberry shampoo. A gut wrenching sob reached his ears, followed by whimpering and wailing.

 

"Great Oozru she's even loud when she blubbers," Vegeta thought. Not asking himself why he slowly pushed the glass shower door open. Cold water drenched his blue workout suit. He pulled the armor off his chest and tossed it down with a thump. Bulma was so wrapped up in her misery that she didn't hear the scrape of the shower door sliding open. Curled up in a fetal position on the shower she squeezed her knees to her chest.

 

Something caught in Vegeta's through. Memories flashed of a small boy whimpering on a narrow bunk, bloody and bruised in a dozen places. Averting his gaze, Vegeta grabbed a big fluffy towel then approached the shower. Carefully he reached down and wrapped the towel around her shivering body. He effortlessly picked Bulma up in his arms.

 

"Leave me alone," she sobbed, beating on his chest.

 

"Shut up and let's get you out of here,"

 

"What... what the HELL do you want! Let me go you sicko!" she shrieked.

 

"Shh," Vegeta urged. "I don't want any sexual favors from you so forget it!"

 

"Let me GO you asshole!" she shrilled, kicking and screaming. Clutching tightly to her he carried her into her bedroom and squeezed her tightly to his body. Energy flared around her, startling Bulma. Steam hissed from the evaporating water. Despite her fists pummeling his body he held her tightly on his lap, arms not yielding.

 

"Do stop crying, Bulma," Vegeta whispered in her ear. "You'll make yourself sick. I had no idea my words would cause this affect. So kindly shut the hell up and remain still."

 

"What are you doing in here!" she cried.

 

"Stopping you from doing something stupid, woman," said Vegeta.

 

"Kami sometimes I hate you! You're driving me insane! First you make me feel like nothing but something you wipe off your shoe and then you barge into my private bathroom and drag me out like some pervert!"

 

"Hush now and listen to me, woman. You gave in way too quickly to our confrontation. Don't you realize I didn't WISH for you to yield so readily! What is wrong with you? I don't like seeing you reduced to such a pathetic state!"

 

"If you're so concerned about my demeanor, then don't treat me like I'm nothing! Honestly I don't know what to think when you're like this! You can't keep playing head games with me Vegeta and expect me to shrug it off! I'm not like you. I'm not an indestructible warrior who can let everything bounce off of him! I'm a woman and I have feelings. Whether you think they're weak or not, I could care less, but you can't expect me to..."

 

"Woman, listen to me. I'm sorry, all right? I'm fucking sorry that I didn't realize you had a pisser of a day. I'm trying to apologize you idiot!" Vegeta growled.

 

"You, apologize? Why?"

 

"Because I want to. The Prince of All Saiyans doesn't need to explain his actions to ANYONE. And if you tell anyone that I just apologized, you'll be sorry."

 

"Kami I don't know what to think," she whispered, shivering.

 

"Now, what the hell's gotten up your ass? That you can't tell the difference between a good verbal fight like we normally share after dinner and when I'm being serious! Don't you see that you're one of the only beings on this pathetic planet who dare stand up to me?"

 

"What?"

 

"You've got a spine, few humans do. I can't believe I'm being so damn... nice... but I don't like seeing one like you reduced to blubbering like a whelp. So do me a favor and tell me what's caused this uncharacteristic change in your behavior. And how we can get things back to the way they should be, eh?" Vegeta mumbled.

 

"I need more clothes on first," she murmured.

 

"Go get dressed, woman, and then explain why you're so damn moody," said Vegeta. Turning away he held out a blue silk robe hanging over the end of her four poster bed. Bulma snatched it out of his hand, wrapping it around herself and tying the sash tightly. He averted his gaze to stare out the large bay window till Bulma informed him she was decent.

 

"This isn't like you, Bulma. You're better than this. Reducing yourself to a simpering pushover isn't what I wanted to achieve. It's beneath you," Vegeta continued, still not looking at her.

 

"I'm decent you can look," Bulma said quietly. He whirled around, only to see her eyes gleaming with anger and cold hatred. The next second he felt her stinging slap and witnessed the front of her open hand crossing his face. Surprisingly it stung far longer than he had expected. Although he growled in his throat he delighted in the sudden burst of moxy she'd just displayed. Instead of retaliating he kept his face turned to one side. Clenching her hand she whimpered.

 

"Then why did you do it? I don't like people scaring me to death, jerk off," Bulma glared at him.

 

"Feel better?" he mumbled.

 

"No," she said.

 

"Next time tell me to fuck off if you're having a bad day, woman," said Vegeta. "I don't want things to escalate to the point where I could kill you if you are fool enough to insult me."

 

"Then you should learn to control your damn temper," she muttered.

 

Vegeta forced his fists to either hip, clenching and unclenching his gloved hands. Tightly through ground teeth he gritted, "I'm going to stand in the hallway. You had best get dressed. I should shoot myself for even listening to your reasons for your behavior, but seeing as you won't get back to your usual self that I can tolerate, I will listen to your... grievances."

 

"Okay Vegeta you win," Bulma slowly nodded. Realizing that he actually gave a damn caught her by surprise. In his sick twisted way he cared. Even if it was only because she was one of the few people on the planet who could fix his machines. Slowly the Prince rose from the bed and exited the room. He coughed, letting her know he was waiting for her in the hallway. She grabbed some sweatpants and a T shirt to throw on, then slid her feet into her sandals. Twisting her hair into a towel turban she exited the large bedroom.

 

"You can come in, your Whyness," said Bulma quietly. "We can talk on my balcony."

 

"Fine, let's just get this over with, so I can get back to training, woman," said Vegeta quietly. He gently took her hand in his gloved one and tugged her insistently towards the porch. Seeing her flabbergasted he tucked that wrist in her bent arm.

 

"Okay you win. Stop being so pushy!" Bulma glared at him. She let the Prince lead her in his own way to the balcony. He slid open the glass door, then nudged her outside.

***

"Sit," he grunted, pulling a chair out form the table. He grabbed a soda out of the small bar fridge and set it down in front of her. She realized it was her favorite beer, and cracked it open. Across from her he sat in one of the other chairs, opening one of the bottles of cranapple juice she used to make cosmopolitans.

 

"My father gave me the song and dance about responsibility," she said quietly.

 

"He thinks you unfit as his successor?" Vegeta ventured, sipping on his beverage.

 

"Yeah pretty much. Ever since I was a kid, he's been grooming me to replace him. But lately he's been pushing more responsibility on me, making me Vice President. Between that and caring for your needs I'm frazzled," Bulma admitted.

 

"Why did you not tell me, woman?" Vegeta asked.

 

"Would you have cared?" she shot back.

 

"No, but it would have explained your current behavior," Vegeta answered. "You could benefit from consultation from one trained in leadership capacity. But I suppose your intelligence did not..."

 

"Since when do you give a shit about this company?" she asked.

 

"A Prince need not justify his actions. Let's just say that I'm intrigued with how wealth and power are distributed on this world. And as one trained and bred to rule, perhaps you can learn from my expertise," Vegeta snorted.

 

"Okay your Majesty, if you think you'd be any better at running Capsule, I'll take your challenge," Bulma said.

 

"Seriously? I suppose it took you long enough to come to your senses," Vegeta snickered.

 

"Then how would you deal with this?" she asked, reaching for a binder that had been laying unopened on one of the other chairs. She shoved it into Vegeta's face.

 

"What the hell is this?"

 

"The recent second quarterly report. Capsule's gross earnings are down, and we're trying to cut our profit margins..."

 

"What's your upstream and downstream expenditures?" Vegeta asked, riffling through the papers. Bulma blinked at him suddenly memorizing the figures quickly.

 

"Uh it's on page 35..." she said.

 

"I need to see your expense rosters and your distribution of labor," said Vegeta quietly. "There's a whole slew of inadequacies that could easily be changed by altering your command structure."

 

"I'll get my laptop," Bulma said, getting up to rush back into the house. Vegeta watched her emerge with the slim notebook computer. Propping it up before him she turned it on. He watched her lean close to scroll down and open up the spreadsheets.

 

"Humph, this is a start," Vegeta said. "Someone's siphoning off your capital. Don't tell me your accountants didn't notice the discrepancies between this particular unit and that..."

 

"Son of a bitch where?"

 

"Someone's skimming, woman," said Vegeta. "I'd best get your authorities and punish him appropriately."

 

"Who would..."

 

"Someone in your Marketing and Investment division idiot. They're using far more then would be required to make the desired product," he snorted.

 

"How would you know! You don't even know what we make!"

 

"I've got a good idea, woman. Allotment of resources is something that I could do in my sleep."

 

"Then what would you do?"

 

"Make an example of him to bring the others in line," he said. "Too bad torture is outlawed on your world."

 

"And how? Before he gets his stuff and covers his tracks?"

 

"Draw him out, and nail him," said Vegeta. "And determine who his co conspirators are. Then use the appropriate disciplinary action to destroy his credibility. Since you don't have the death penalty..."

 

"I can think of something equally humiliating," she said quietly, tapping her fingers. "But how do I explain to Dad?"

 

"Write a speech for your next board of executives. Much like I'd do when holding court. Tell them that you're in control, even if you don't seem to. That will deter your skimmer. Then while he's overconfident he'll get careless and make a mistake. Then you can act and draw him out," Vegeta said.

 

"Public speech isn't my strong suit," she grumbled.

 

"Here's how you'd say it," he grumbled, getting up and pacing about. "I hope you can type quickly woman... because I'm helping to save your ass."

 

"Oh don't let ME stop you," she snorted, bringing up her word processor as Vegeta cleared his throat.

 

For the next half hour she feverishly typed down what seemed like a rambling diatribe of political spinning. Word choices seemed to rank on par with some of the more smooth speechwriters of the King's own addresses. She could tell that some of them had double meanings aimed at intimidating some and reassuring others. A silent command in the twist of phrase mingled with his words of silent confidence.

***

 

An hour later they both trotted downstairs for dinner. Mrs. Briefs had whipped up a considerable amount of food. Bulma had printed up a draft of her press release and speech for the board of trustee's meetings that she had called. Her father stood up, blinking at her in confusion when he pointed to his computer.

 

"What's this about someone siphoning off from Marketing?" Dr. Briefs gasped.

 

"Someone's playing us for fools dad. Not just that, but some of our proprietary stuff has been leaked for a profit to one of our competitors," she said.

 

"I hadn't seen this. When did you discover this?"

 

"The past few days," she said. "I went through the financial report, and saw the discrepancies. I've put together a presentation and emailed the board of trustees to meet in a week. Also I've got a speech to address the company tomorrow."

 

"Good grief, if I'd known," he mumbled, glancing through her packet. Bulma nodded as his eyes widened. Behind her Vegeta smirked, slowly piling his plate high with fried chicken and copious amounts of mashed potatoes.

 

"Should I break the news or should you?"

 

"I'll do the honors if you'd permit me to use your wording," said Dr. Briefs. He swallowed hard, glancing at her awkwardly.

 

"What Dad?"

 

"I owe you an apology Princess. I've been too hard on you. This is top notch work," he said quietly. "Can you forgive your old man for being a bit..."

 

"Yes. Just as long as you realize that between this and Vegeta's needs I've got my time split. What's more important? That or his GR?"

 

"Very well. You devote your energies to his needs, and I'll delegate your responsibilities to employees of your choice," he nodded. "You've proved that you can do the work. I'm certain you can find the appropriate substitutes."

 

"Thank you Dad," she said as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

 

"Now let's have some dinner," he said. Vegeta grunted as Bulma settled into the chair next to him. Leaning over she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

 

"Ugh what was THAT for?" he winced. "I'm trying to eat."

 

"Thank you," she said with a small smile, rubbing her cheek to his as she gave him a hug.

 

"You two have something to tell us?" Mrs. Briefs asked.

 

"What?" they both blinked.

 

"You're acting quite cozy," she teased.

 

"I was just thanking him for... um not blowing up the GR lately," she thought.

 

"I have been overzealous in my use of it. You will all be rewarded for your services rendered to me," Vegeta cleared his throat as he glared at Dr. Briefs. "And your daughter's efforts to keep my training running will be sufficient so you can run y our business."

 

"All right, if that's what Bulma wants," said Dr. Briefs, blinking at him in astonishment.

 

"She's one of the few humans I can tolerate," Vegeta cleared his throat. "Although present company is excepted."

 

"I'm so glad you feel welcome," said Bunny, leaning over to kiss his cheek playfully. Vegeta groaned, blushing deeply.

 

"Mom, you're embarrassing him," Bulma groaned. Vegeta shifted his chair closer to Bulma's, shirking away from Mrs. Brief's flirtatious wink.

 

"You don't usually eat dinner with us. It's a pleasant surprise," Mrs. Briefs said. "But when Bulma dear said you'd be joining us..."

 

"I was getting bored," Vegeta said quietly, stuffing his face. "By the way where's Scar Face?"

 

"He's training I imagine," said Mrs. Briefs. "Do you know Bulma?"

 

"I don't know, and frankly I don't care right now," Bulma said.

 

"What was that?" Dr. Briefs choked on his scotch and soda.

 

"He needs to train, and I need to keep the GR running. Besides, I'm not his keeper," Bulma shrugged. "He can do whatever he wants."

 

"I had assumed that you two were, an item?" Mrs. Briefs asked.

 

"Mother, he and I have broken up so many times I figured it wasn't working. I've got more important things to worry about now. He's got to train and fight the Androids, and I've got to help prepare. My love life is far less important then that," she said.

 

"Glad to see you taking some responsibility. I must admit that I'm relieve to see you're no longer going to associate with that young man," said Dr. Briefs.

 

"We're just good friends, that's all," said Bulma.

 

"Took you damn long enough," Vegeta mumbled under his breath.

 

"There's plenty of fish in the sea, or in the pond right here, you know," Mrs. Briefs said, nodding towards Vegeta.

 

"Honestly mom, how can I think of dating when the world's gonna be in danger in three years?" Bulma said seriously. "It might not matter."

 

"Oh don't be so gloomy! I do want some grand children you know!" Mrs. Briefs interrupted her.

 

"You do have your future to think about. And the future of the company," said her father quietly. "Someday you'll be passing on the company to your son or daughter. And I for one would enjoy being around to see that child before your mother or I... go to that big lab in the sky."

 

"We could do with an heir or heiress, Princess," Bunny giggled. "You're still young and beautiful, and three years IS a long time."

 

"Mom, stop pushing okay!" Bulma blushed profusely. Vegeta winced at the feel of someone's foot nudging his knee. He wondered if helping the woman with her work was something he'd come to regret.