Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Royal Namekian Blues ❯ Vegeta and Bulma give Thanks ( Chapter 80 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
I don't own Vegeta and Bulma, or DBZ. Akira Toriyama does. I make no money writing this.

This is a sort of 'break' chapter after so much action for RNB. I bring you a bit of Vegeta and Bulma interaction. My apologies for not updating so soon. The previous chapter was written by a co author Spleef aka Stained Lace. Here I give you some VxB goodness as an apology for not updating in AGES.
***

Grattitude Festival
by Trynia Merin

Despite the crazyiness going on in the world anticipating the Android Games, Capsule Corps was trying their best to increase public relations and improve company morale. Vegeta had heard from Trunks and seen him come home in a huff, and was quite bewildered. As for his other Saiyans they were all acounted for, but Vegeta felt the need to survey his 'domain'. Which included Capsule Corps.

Inside his stomach growled at the trays of food piled high in the capsule kitchen. White coated chefs with paper and cloth hats threaded their way through and among the heating units and counters. Nimbly Vegeta strode down the midst of them. That first idiot who stood in his way was lucky to escape with a broken nose on the way in.

Fortunately, for him Mrs. Briefs interceded with a happy smile that flummoxed the alien Prince. The injured security guard quickly slinked away, pressing his hand to his nose with twin streams of blood seeping from under his palm.

"Oh don't you know dear boy, that it's Gratitude Festival time?"

"Gratitude Festival what?" Vegeta snorted unimpressed on his walk through the kitchen.

An abundance of food gave some humans cause to celebrate, Vegeta mused. How frivolous and foolishly they rushed around in an attempt to show their wealth by giving it away.

Alternatively, cramming every available space with hungry mouths to feed. Such a tradition never existed in his memory on Vegetasei. If someone wanted to celebrate the conquering of a new world or his or her ascension to power that was worth throwing a lavish feast.

"Wasteful, and stupid, not to mention ludicrous," Vegeta commented, both hands tugging the towel he suspended around his neck. It seemed a tiny vise clamped down on his backside the next second.

"Next time dear boy why don't ask for me first? I am always happy to feed such a strapping handsome lad as yourself. All you have to do is say please," Mrs. Briefs tittered, ignoring Vegeta's wide-eyed stare of disbelief.

"Fine, whatever," Vegeta spluttered. Instincts told him her hand was there, while common sense warned him not to retaliate. She was his source of edible food on this planet. Certainly, he could kill one of the many large dinosaurs or beasts on his own, not to mention grill it over a fire. However, it took precious time away from his vital training, as well as pleased him to have the weaker creatures groveling at his disposal.

"Here, you look like you could use this with such a sweat."

Freshly roasted meat shot towards his face. Vegeta seized the offered drumstick with his teeth first, then gripped the released shaft of bone in a white gloved hand. Mrs. Briefs nimbly stepped back from him, tray in her other hand. "Mmmph."

Mrs. Briefs giggled lightly. "You'll find many more in the rear dining area just for you, dearie!"

Vegeta shot her a frustrated glare, licking his lips. "Why in hell didn't you say so?"

"Well there was a little tiny favor I thought you may be up to handling after your meal?"

"I do no favors lightly."

"Ohh such a handsome pouting face. Bulma the poor dear has forgotten to eat her lunch. I thought it would be lovely if you took a plate to the lab."

Vegeta snatched the tray that magically appeared on Mrs. Brief's hands the minute he turned towards her. Even though he knew one of the food slaves in this kitchen probably passed it to her when his attention was diverted. He could tell from their weak kis where each of them were in proximity.

"I'm only doing this so she'll make the repairs I asked for," Vegeta clarified, giving Mrs. Briefs a hard stare.

"You are such a well mannered and generous boy I just knew you would," Mrs. Briefs thanked him.

Disintegrating her was still tempting, although Vegeta knew better. It was far more amusing to see the white smocked idiots scatter as he strode back through the kitchen, tray in hand. If he were too rough on them, Bulma would withhold repairs or adjustments to his training equipment. Blasting rocks in the desert or sheering off mountains in a fit of pique would not guarantee him supremacy over Kakkarot.

***

Muscles in Bulma's neck tied into tight knots. Hunched over a delicate circuit board she guided one small wire with one hand, and then lowered her soldering iron into place. The minute flash only temporarily flared into her blue eyes that squinted through the magnifier lenses. Her entire world was composed only of the lab around her, the circuitry panels, and her own body for the last two hours. For all she cared the rest of the world could blow up. All that mattered now was the next contact melting into its proper place.

At her hip, something vibrated like a joy buzzer. Only a barely audible buzz reached her ears, yet her heart skipped a few beats. Dimly at the periphery of her vision, she was aware of the door opening. Hairs on the back of her neck stood up from the knowledge she was not alone. None of the proximity detectors or sensors had triggered a tiny bleeping alarm.

"What do you want now? I'm busy!"

"I don't know if I should be mildly impressed your mere human brain devised a way to tell I was here," Vegeta murmured. A loud clatter caused Bulma to flinch instead of the reality of a vicious creature standing only inches behind her. Someone who she knew could atomize her with just a flick of his hand.

She focused back on her next wire that stubbornly took five minutes to get into the right position before she could solder it into place. He was still standing there. It was not the tantalizing smell of the food somewhere nearby that said so, but the evaluation of his observed patterns of behavior.

"You're still here?"

Bulma spun around to face the midnight black eyes she could not see herself in. Hard and cold but endlessly fascinating. Far more so than the panel behind her she had completed. Was he a far more intriguing experiment than her own toys that could break after too much use? Should she be thankful for an adrenaline rush in an increasingly boring world?

Vegeta snorted, only a fine twitching of the corner of one lip breaking his mask. "Wasting your breath stating what's so damn obvious."

"You're wasting my time making me nervous and putting me off my schedule."

"If you want to die of starvation don't blame me. On the other hand, should I shove this food down your throat? You're already fat enough so why do you care how much you eat?"

"Fat my ass!" she snorted, tossing her head.

"I rest my case. Fat," Vegeta sneered. Bulma caught hold of the muscular arm that appeared far too late to stop two fingers from pinching the skin on her arm. Or the other hand that materialized cupping her jaw. Just the tiniest squeeze puffed her cheeks up. She seized a handful of his hair, tugging on it.

Bulma brought her knee up, yet missed her target because his hip turned just so. Instead, his hard pelvis had somehow worked its way against hers and her leg curled around it. She rolled her hips so her crotch brushed his instead. Swiveling his body Vegeta spun her away from the table, and then boosted her with a hand on her backside. She yelped when something hard collided with her and the gloved hands pried her body away from his.

Flustered, Bulma heard his evil snicker. Hot and flushed she sat sprawled on another lab counter right beside the tray of food he had dropped there. "Hey!"

Vegeta continued to laugh, head thrown back. "Eat the damn food, Bulma."

"Thanks a million, you pain in the ass," Bulma pouted, glaring at him.

"Or are you going to want something ELSE?" Vegeta asked.

"Once I finish, this, then maybe we'll see," Bulma said, grabbing the front of his armor and yanking him down. She was indeed thankful for this pain in the ass prince who kept her world exciting and new. Likewise, Vegeta was thankful to have a reason not to blow up this fourth rate mud ball. The blue haired woman kept things interesting indeed.

He also remembered another of the times they had been together while training. Memories tumbled back of a time not so long ago as she tugged at his armor and tore off his spandex.
***
How many times would she have to hear a loud rumbling like thunder from outside?Vibrations shaking the entire Capsule complex so she couldn’t escape them no matter where she went inside? Or the rattling windows and glassware if she happened to be in the kitchen.

This time was particularly bad she realized as cups and saucers clinked spasmodically. Tea spattered out of the cup past the saucer balanced on her lap while éclairs and cakes tumbled every which way haphazardly onto the carpet.

“Oh MY!” she heard her mother cry, and Bulma gritted her teeth.

Over the windows cracked fine lines like snakes before bursting inwards. She heard her mother screaming and ducking behind the sofa as she dove behind the armchair. Intense light blasted her sight, painting the whole living room in absolute brightness and stark shadow for an instant. Her ears rang after something incredibly loud echoed in a ferocious boom.

“I’m dead, I must be…” she thought one instant. The next she opened her eyes, hearing nothing but silence. Minutes passed behind that armchair, and Bulma could hear whimpering and distant shouts from wind that whistled around the sofa. She poked her head up and saw light pouring in through a gaping hole in the living room.

“That son of a...” Bulma growled, forgetting her fear as anger flooded her. Launching herself over the chair, she dashed quickly through the new opening. Bits of plaster fell on her bushy blue hair but she didn’t care at all.

If he wasn’t dead he soon would be, she decided. Almost knocking over Yamcha in the process, she slammed feet into the yard one after the other. Her heart almost burst in her chest it was hammering so hard. Anger turned once more to fear seeing smoke billowing up in ugly black columns skywards. Like a huge egg Capsule 4 was shattered, only the bottom half still intact. Huge bits of metal had scattered for yards, some imbedded in trees.

“Holy CRAP… he just blew it up from inside!” Yamcha said, grabbing her arm. “Let me clear the area…”

“Help me you idiot! Vegeta’s probably buried under this!” she cried.

“It was another stupid accident,” Yamcha grumbled, heaving the piles left and right. Then he shouted, “I found him!”

Bulma clawed her way around rubble, seeing Yamcha shift a beam aside. A loud groan from underneath banished fear, replacing it once more with sick realization. She dropped to her knees, and reached out to touch tanned flesh. He lay on his side, facing her; new cuts bleeding bright that zigzagged over the old scars.

“You IMBICLE! What the HELL were you thinking?” she screamed grabbing his arm.

“Bulma… he’s still.”

“Get the medical wing, NOW!” Bulma shrilled.

Yamcha blurred out, his face stricken with worry. Now she turned her focus on Vegeta’s battered body. Her fingers carefully caressed and probed hard angles, muscle stretching skin taught, and the slickness of blood and sweat. She saw his chest rising and falling, then slid a hand under his neck to carefully lift his head. Breath rasped and she brushed away the soot from his face.

“Vegeta, say something, damn it!” she shouted.

Slowly he blinked, looking up at her with a frown despite the scattered debris in his hair and the ugly bruises marring his face. “S…stop that… infernal shouting,” he rasped.

“Vegeta, what in the WORLD were you doing?” she gasped, as she slid her arm under his shoulders, pulling him to lie across her knees. “Didn’t you learn your lesson LAST time?”

“I am a SAIYAN…” he coughed, blinking dizzily up at her. "We heal from worse than this!"

“I know that and I don't CARE! If you say it’s NOTHING I’ll clobber you! For the love of Dende, you almost blew up the house last time and now thanks to you there is a new gaping HOLE in our living room! You can’t keep doing this!” she shrieked, shaking him.

“Shut UP ALREADY! It was an accident, damn it!” he shouted up at her. She blinked, realizing her shaking wasn’t helping things.

“THIS was an accident? Last TIME was an accident, this was a catastrophe!” Bulma scolded, lowering her voice in volume as she bent down and hugged him to her chest. “If you hadn’t survived I would have…”

“You… have a strong… grip… , for a weak human,” Vegeta coughed against her ear.

Drawing back, she glanced down at him and saw his face frowning up into hers. Smoothing aside his hair, she blinked away tears. “So… you do know my name after all, huh?”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said yet! Of course I know your blasted name!” he asked, reaching up one hand and stroking her face. “You shout it often enough!”

“Don’t ever do this again Vegeta or I'll kill you myself,” she half laughed, bending down and covering his lips with hers. Stunned, he opened his mouth and inhaled her hot breath. The hand that cupped her cheek twisted into her hair, pulling her mouth to his.

Gasping she broke the kiss, peering down at his devilish grin. “And was THAT an accident?”

“No the accident was that I fell for an arrogant ass like you,” Bulma laughed, sniffling away her tears.

“Or that I listen to a loud mouthed wench like you,” Vegeta countered, coughing. He struggled to sit up but fell back into her lap. Closing his eyes, he panted.

“Just relax… stay with me,” she whispered. “If you were listening to me you’d stop having ‘accidents’. You can’t keep doing this to yourself…”

“I can, and I will… as long as you’re here… to fix this infernal machine,” he whispered into her ear as she clutched him tightly to her chest.

“Yes… I am,” she laughed, covering his lips in a kiss again. When Yamcha returned with the medics, his eyes were full of the couple sharing a heated kiss.

“Terrific,” he mumbled, and turned around to leave. Bulma didn’t need his help after all. He wondered if it really WAS an accident because every time this happened, Bulma ended up touching the alien terror all over the place, and it always ended with a hot kiss.

“Accident my foot,” Yamcha laughed sadly.

Bulma helped to haul Vegeta to his feet, his arm around her shoulders as she helped him onto the stretcher. With a last soft kiss to his lips, she pulled away from the stretcher party as they lifted it up and carried him off towards the medical facility. She ran to keep up, barking orders all the way. Inside she knew it was these accidents that brought them together.