Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Taste of Heat ❯ Setting the Prince Free? ( Chapter 21 )

A Taste of Heat

 

By Trynia Merin aka Starbearertm

 

Setting the Prince Free

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z. I don't own Vegeta, Bulma or Baby Trunks sadly. Akira Toriyama does, and Funimation brings us these great cartoons! I wish I did, but I only can claim this story as a work of fanfiction from my overactive imagination. Don't sue me! I hope to present a `realistic' portrayal of the struggle not only Vegeta but Bulma has with this whole change in relationship. If things seem OOC, then it's just my vain attempts to delve into their minds.

 

Bear with me here. I hope this will all make sense in a chapter or 2!

 

***

 

Bulma knew she was in trouble since she first saw him change to Super Saiyan. He would bask in the radiance of his achievement, and she could just see him failing to recapture the moment during training. She couldn't risk him turning Trunks into the reason for failure. Perhaps he could blame her, but if he risked blaming an innocent boy for his failure, she couldn't tolerate the anger that would generate. Nothing would be worth that.

 

His strong hands sheathed in white gloves that she longed to see remained untouched by any skin now. What had been familiar territory in her dreams was in reality as unknown to her as the topography of earth's now destroyed moon. It remained an elusive memory that swam before her waking eyes in that twilight state. Although they had touched each other physically, she knew there would be parts of his soul that were forever denied her. He wasn't ready to stay with her forever, like she had hoped. Although she knew that he had a duty to train for excellence, she still wished she could be part of it. Nevertheless she knew her Prince too well. Gut instinct warned Bulma that he would possibly regret opening up to her in a moment of weakness as he struggled to process emotions that his icy heart had no hope of comprehending. In their last lovemaking she could feel the conflict within.

 

Now she had shared the better part of her last year with him, forced into a new association that both were coming to terms with. Was he lover, husband, or sex partner? Bulma still wasn't sure. In the depths of darkness she heard a piercing baby's cry. Slowly she blinked sleep and rubbed its evidence from her eyes before fighting her way out of the covers. Her hand fell across the empty space next to her. Was it a dream or was she really just a single mother?

 

“I will be gone till they show up, and not before,” echoed his words in her ear from a time before now. It was the day after he had first ascended.

 

If Bulma closed her eyes she could still feel the tension crackling between them that early morning. The baby's cries had kept her awake for the past hour while Vegeta had changed into a fresh suit of armor and spandex. As she struggled to quiet the baby his mood had soured with each passing minute.

 

“Can't you keep that brat quiet?” Vegeta complained, from before the three sided mirror near their dresser.

 

“Excuse me, but our son's HUNGRY!” Bulma shot back. She walked back and forth with a fussy Trunks, who had not let her sleep a wink since Vegeta had risen from the bed. Finally she marched over to the changing table once her finger confirmed the cause. Vegeta smelled the scent of soiled diapers, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

 

“Foul smelling brat,” he muttered. “Do you have to make such a stink?”

 

“It's not his fault, jerk! Babies poo just like we do!” she cursed, holding Trunks by his ankles. She plopped him onto the new diaper, then shot powder everywhere.

 

“All that brat does is eat, sleep, s hit and cry! Why if he were a full blooded Saiyan babe he'd be ready to fight in just under a year. Must you persist in raising him solely when you can hire any number of slaves to…” Vegeta barked.

 

“Throw this away will you?” Bulma interrupted, thrusting a nasty smelling bundle.

 

“Hell no! I do NOT dispose of soiled DIAPERS! It's beneath me!” Vegeta exploded, backing away from the extended hand holding the offensive item as if it were a deadly enemy.

 

“FINE your royal WHYNESS,” she snapped, hurling the diaper across the room. It crashed into the nearby bin with a solid thump.

 

Angrily Vegeta glared at Trunks irritated that his early morning escape was ruined. “Traitorous whelp,” he spat towards the boy. “You couldn't shut up long enough! You just HAD to wake your mother!”

 

“Excuse me, what did you just say to him?” Bulma snapped, struggling to finish snapping Trunks little blue onsie again around his flailing legs.

 

“That brat won't shut the hell up! Must we have it in the next room? You ask me why I must leave, and yet you are stupid enough not to see that whelp keeps YOU awake!” Vegeta laughed, throwing up gloved hands as he rolled his eyes.

 

“He's a BABY, Vegeta! Cut him some slack!” Bulma yelled.

 

“You're just as loud as HE is, Bulma!” Vegeta glared at her. He marched towards the door, fully intent on leaving.

 

“Where do you think you're going, mister Prince of the Saiyans?” Bulma demanded. She snatched Trunks off the changing table, and he grabbed two fistfuls of her hair in his small hands.

 

“I have to leave, Bulma! You knew I made my intentions clear! I must complete my training. I've wasted enough time coddling you and the brat!” Vegeta retorted.

 

“Now WAIT, you can't just LEAVE!”

 

“I can and I am, Bulma. You will remain here and care for the boy while I am gone. And while I'm battling the tin cans you are NOT to disturb me or come anywhere NEAR me with the brat, got it?”

 

“EXCUSE the hell me?” Bulma blinked.

 

“Must I repeat myself? Are you deaf as well as stupid, Bulma?” Vegeta snapped impatiently. He marched towards her, his eyes blazing like lit coals with frustration.

 

“Don't start with me, Vegeta!” she warned, waggling her finger at him while holding Trunks with the other. Back and forth the blue eyes flickered from mother to father.

 

“I refuse to be detained any longer. If I miss the launch window it's YOUR Fault!” he said.

 

“LAUNCH, excuse me WHAT did you say?” Bulma blinked in disbelief.

 

“I'm taking off in less then an hour,” Vegeta said, tugging his gloves on more tightly.

 

“What, you're going into SPACE again, but why?” she gasped, rushing quickly around to block his way towards the door to their suite.

 

“Get out of my way, Bulma, I've no time for your foolish female games!” Vegeta snorted. Wind seemed to blast her full in the face as he vanished in a blur. A second later and he stood by the open window, glaring at her.

 

“He needs his father close, not traipsing around OUTER SPACE! Why can't you train on EARTH? Or are we too WEAK for you?” she shouted towards him, stumbling as she rushed forwards. A second later she tripped, falling headlong before Vegeta zipped forwards to catch her.

 

“Let me train, Bulma. You can't be so selfish to stand in the way of my goal!” Vegeta growled.

 

“Who's being selfish!” she snapped at him turning away as she hugged Trunks even more tightly. Small hands seized fistfuls of her hair, pulling as Trunks began to sniffle.

 

“Perhaps I was correct in thinking that you are a distraction. Because this is exactly what I knew would happen. Your stupid human female hormones trying to fuck with my mind! I won't tolerate head games!”

 

“WAAAHHHH!” Trunks began to cry.

 

“Don't cry sweetie, your dad's being an ass,” Bulma cooed, rocking him in her arms to try and quiet him.

 

“You DARE bother me with such sentimental drivel? Did we not discuss this?” Vegeta growled, deeply in his throat. “I cannot allow you and the boy to become a liability. Damn you, Bulma, why are you being so foolish?”

 

“You bastard, you just HAVE to jump at the chance to leave!” Bulma snapped.

 

“My son will be protected. If you happen to be there so be it. But don't expect me to come running if you are foolish enough to put yourself at risk. If you're willing to jeopardize my one chance to prove my… supremacy, you'll obviously be idiotic enough to cross the path of danger.”

 

Bulma's temperature rose to the boiling point, her blue eyes blazing with the same intensity as his. “I can't believe you're saying I'm doing that? What if something happens to me and him while you're gone?”

 

“If you would follow my commands you wouldn't dare question me! If you are trying to anger me, you're succeeding in doing so. What do you hope to gain from this emotional outburst, eh? Save to remind me why human emotions are weak?” he laughed harshly.

 

“You can't get RID of us fast enough! That proves that you're kissing your WEAKNESS goodbye!” she snapped back at him.

 

“So that's how it is, Bulma? You disappoint me. I thought you comprehended the nature of things. But as always you show me how limited your human intelligence truly is!” Vegeta scoffed, his brow knitting with fury.

 

“How do I know you'll come back?” she snapped. Vegeta's dark eyes widened at the gall of Bulma to accuse him of such things.

 

“How DARE you question my honor as a Prince and a warrior! Such slander would get you KILLED were this Vegetasei!” he gasped, his jaw dropping open.

 

Bulma's next words were little more then a snarl as she said, “Well just GO! WE don't need you, Vegeta! Go be the ruthless Saiyan Prince. Forget that we exist because we're the one thing holding you back from being the strongest!”

 

“Obviously you have decided that you are not worthy of the role for which I have given you. Since you fail to comprehend, my protection is withdrawn. Save in ensuring that my heir survives, any fool action that places you in deliberate danger will not be MY responsibility!” Vegeta snarled.

 

“Just leave, you ass,” she said. “The robots aren't going to wait.”

 

“I will then, Bulma, if that's what you say,” he stared at her with a deepening frown. “But don't blame me for this mindfuck!”

 

“Who's fucking with who's mind, huh, Princey?” she yelled. “Just GO!”

 

“I will then, but not because you tell me. Nobody orders the Prince. I go where I want to, and when I want to!” he huffed. A sudden blaze of blue energy blinded her. By the time it faded, the curtains flapped in the breeze of the blast of wind generated by his departure. From behind the distant domes peeking through the window a thin band of blood red spread from the encroaching dawn.

 

“I'm sorry Vegeta,” she whispered suddenly.

 

Bulma dropped to her knees, still rocking Trunks. She forced back tears, not wanting to cry because she could still hear his reprimand. Unfortunately her plan had worked too well. Would he realize that she had done what she did to ensure that he would succeed? The night before when their souls had touched she'd read the struggle within her Prince. Two sides warred, the desire to fulfil his role as husband and protector, and the burning need to prove he was the strongest. Literally the battle consumed him, reducing him to a driving ache that made her sick.

 

“You only would hate us in time. If we held you back from your goal you'd resent us. Far better you leave and get this out of your system then loathe us later,” she said. “I refuse to be blamed for being the reason you don't defeat those damn androids.”

 

***

What she had done was out of fear but she tried to convince herself it was out of love. That time worn cliché of `if you love something let it go…' was a feeble excuse. Then and there she realized she was just as guilty as putting up walls as he was. Yet her mind struggled to convince herself that it was for the best. In time he would invent a reason to leave regardless. Far better in the long run that she push him away so he could focus all his energies on becoming the strongest.

 

`It's what you wanted, Vegeta,' she whispered. Then her mind drifted back to the present. Red digital numbers flickered to display the time: 4:35 am. Through the blinds the orange haze of streetlights still cast faint shadows in the dim room.

 

The loud cry continued to split the silence. Urgently she stumbled to her feet, not bothering to wrap herself in a bathrobe. A few steps carried her into the nursery immediately to the left of her bedroom. Face bright red, her son pumped little fists and kicked up the blanket as he hollered for food. The cry tore at her motherly instincts with a mingle of pride and concern. He was her son. Her baby boy, the man of her life.

 

“Shh, it's okay Trunks sweetie… Mommy's here… man you're as loud as your mommy,” she found herself cooing. Fear had given way to the instinct of meeting his every need. For without her he was alone in the world. Not truthfully, because of his Nana and Pops, but emotionally. From the time she was the age of her little man, to her teens there were nannies and arms to hold her. Unfortunately there were hardly any times she could recall her mother and father holding her except when it was most needed.

 

“Wow, you're really hungry, aren't you?” she commented, reaching down to boost her baby up out of his crib. He continued to holler despite her resting him on her shoulder and rocking him. A quick finger in the diaper just like one of her best friends had mentioned told her his diaper was wet. Practiced motions like one of her bots carried her through the ritual of setting him down on the changing table and breathing through her nose.

 

“I know, I know… hang on there, little guy, I know it sucks being wet,” she mumbled, ripping open the snaps of his onesie. Fortunately the diaper was wet, devoid of the disgusting contents that hardly phased her. After the first hundred changes she grew an ironclad stomach. In years past the mere sight of such bodily functions grossed her out, but it was either get used to it, or leave the change to someone else.

 

“I don't want him not knowing who Mamma is,” she had yelled at her parents when they insisted on a Nanny. “He's MY son.”

 

That sent her Father and Mother out of the room with a loud series of shouts. She wanted to be with him. Her little man, the one who would never leave her. From that first moment she clutched him she knew she loved him. Unlike other moms she had not suffered the post partum depression. Looking into those eyes the identical shade of hers was worth the late night changes. Just seeing the expressions on his face or the way in which he regarded her with wonder pushed all other concerns but the immediate now from her. Running the world's largest company mattered little when it came to changing her baby's diaper.

 

Running Capsule as Vice President went on the back burner. Mommy Bulma insisted on it. Her father and mother gave no argument for their daughter wanting to take on the task of mommy full time. Bulma stumbled over to the rocking chair and lowered herself with a grunt. She reached down to unfasten her button up nightgown for what he most needed. A quick clamping of his teeth on her breast and she leaned back with a sigh of relief to hear his cry gone. Clutching her baby in her arms she felt the warmth of his little strong body seeping into hers. The delicate scent of baby Trunks filled her nostrils, mingled with the plastic fresh scent of a clean diaper, and baby powder. His head was still partly soft as she fingered the small peachfuzz of violet hair curling over his scalp. His hair had been thick, but much of it had lightened up since then.

 

“My greatest invention,” she chuckled. Two blue eyes blinked up at her intently around the curve of her breast. Trunks glanced up at her as he ate that late night snack. Every two hours he drew from her, and she felt the tingling of the blue comfort through them. HE drained no energy form her, rather he gave back ten times whatever attention. He didn't demand unrealistic things. Only her love and full attention.

 

How could eyes so young hold love, she wondered? Despite his crying, Trunks had a calming affect on her when he sat quietly and looked up at her with his bottomless sapphire eyes. His young cherubic face would split with a true smile and a cooing when she bounced him sometimes. Bulma sat for a long time slowly rocking and letting him nurse, till she realized his need was done. Carefully she removed him and fastened her gown again. Holding him close to her breast she got up and wandered towards the bed. That empty place weighted heavily on her mind.

 

“Well little guy, you wanna sleep next to Mamma tonight?” she asked quietly. Doctors often said a woman shouldn't keep a baby in bed next to them, but something told her it would be very difficult to hurt a half Saiyan baby. Trunks was made of far sterner stuff, and the action of her rolling on him would hardly hurt him.

 

She scooted into the exact middle of the bed, and then lay on her side. Making a warm nest for her baby, she wrapped him in her arms so his head and shoulders rested on her chest. Burying her face against his warm smooth cheek she inhaled his scent. A small fist grabbed a handful of her blue hair and clung tightly. He let out a small sigh and curled up next to his mother in the darkness of early morning. With her little man beside her she soon found sleep again.