Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Don't Go. ❯ Don't Go ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

AN:--I wrote this a while ago and put it up on ff.net, but I'm putting this up on mm.org for debbiechan who has been so supportive of my work! I dedicate this to you, (sorry if this one seems mooshier than the others, I was, as the Japanese say, in a love-love mood).

Bulma smiled at her reflection.


Gently smoothing down the white satin material covering her broad hips, she winked at herself. She was forty-two years old and there was not a wrinkle in sight.


A feat she was most proud of.


Her hair was still the same vivacious cerulean blue it had been at the age of twenty and the healthy summer glow, emanating from her taut skin indicated that she was kept happy and sated in the bedroom department by her extremely arousing and handsome Saiyan husband.


An evil smile twitched at the corners of her crimson colored lips as she placed a blossoming red rose on top of her long silky tresses and behind her ear, complementing the white shimmering dress. Yes... He kept her very happy in that department. It was his skills in social interaction that bothered her the most, but she knew she couldn't do anything to change that. She had come to accept his mannerisms and beliefs a long time ago.


Brushing away the last folds of the material around her stomach, she turned sideways to view her profile. Four years after having her second child, her stomach had finally returned to its former place through a lot of exercise and torturous dieting, but even now she could still see a small bump protruding from the form-fitting dress as she exhaled.


She took a deep breath and sucked in her stomach; the method would have to do until she could talk to her mother's plastic surgeon about removing the irritating bump.


Bulma reached forward and grabbed a red rectangular evening purse from the mahogany counter of her dressing table.


Marching out of the room, she sighed as she remembered why she had been forced to put on the beautiful white dress her mother had ordered from a little boutique in Italy.


An annual gala by one of Capsule Corporations oldest, most generous clients was being held in the city and as usual, Bulma had to attend in the place of her father.


She could understand why her father didn't enjoy events such as this; stuck for an evening with the most boring people to ever grace the Earth, while they babbled on about money and golf for the entire evening as you sat there, desperately hoping for the hours to pass by faster.


So as CEO of the company, her father had forced her to attend in his place. It was a sneaky and devilish move on his part, but Bulma couldn't stay angry at him for very long. After all, he was getting old and she knew he would rather prefer a chilled glass of Merlot and a good book.


As she walked slowly down the curved hall, she could hear her son's muffled voice softly speaking from behind the oak door of her daughter's room.


She smiled to herself and turned the handle, stepping in to say a final goodnight to her children.


"What do you think?" Bulma exclaimed as she entered, twirling around in the room before letting her eyes land on her teenage son.


Bra squealed from the corner of the large room and barrelled into her mother's side. She buried her face in the soft material of the white dress and inhaled slowly, "You smell pretty Momma!" She crowed, snuggling deeper against her mother.


Bulma chuckled and leaned down to pick up her young daughter. She grunted quietly from the effort; time had been flying by so fast that she hadn't noticed how her daughter had grown another inch when she wasn't looking!


"I smell pretty?" She replied in amusement, "Don't you mean I look pretty?"


"That too," Bra said haughtily as she wrapped her arms around her mother's neck in a death grip. Her vision caught sight of the blood red flower behind her mother's ear and she quietly raised her hand to touch the forbidden object.


Bulma caught the stealthy movement of her second-born and forced down her chuckles as she caught her daughter's hand and shook her head, "You can touch it tomorrow when Mommy doesn't need to wear it, ok?" She waited for her Bra to nod in acceptance before turning to her son. "What about you Trunks, what do you think?"


Trunks smiled, "You look great Mom," he replied softly.


She frowned, "What were you doing in here?" Trunks never came near Bra's room, he was always saying something about 'girl germs.' She knew he had wanted a brother, like how Goten had Gohan, but fate had not been kind and dealt him a sister instead. Perhaps fate would be kinder a third time round...


As Bulma watched her son, her curiosity peaked as he turned a brilliant shade of red, standing up from the floor. She waited patiently for his answer as he scuffed his feet against the carpet.


"Well I--What I mean--Is. Well--" he stammered before shrugging his shoulders helplessly.


"Twunks was hewping my organize my dowws!" Bra cried out triumphantly.


Bulma's head snapped forwards to her son in shock, "You were helping Bra organize her dolls?" She repeated, wide-eyed.


She held her laughter in check as Trunks glared at his younger sister, "No I wasn't!" He mumbled under his breath, sending a pleading glance to his mother.


"Yes you were!" Bra retorted, "Wemember? I saw you bweak Poppa's machine last week and I told you I'd tell him if you didn't help me with my dowwys."


Bulma smiled and glanced at her son, "Is that true?"


Trunks sighed in defeat, "Yeah," he stuck out his bottom lip and blinked sadly. It was a look that always worked to calm his mother down.


She knew that look. It meant, don't tell Dad.


With Bra in her arms she walked towards her son and bent her head down to place a kiss on his cheek, "Don't worry," she whispered into his ear, "It'll be our little secret."


The fourteen year old howled with delight and embraced his mother.


"But," Bulma warned, "If I find out you broke your father's machine again, I will make you fix it, got it?"


He nodded eagerly, "Don't worry Mom, I won't, I promise!"


"Good, because your father gave me hell for it last week!" She grumbled under her breath as released Trunks from their hug, allowing him to scramble out of the room before she could say another word. He was probably going to run straight to the entertainment room where his playstation was housed.


Bulma shook her head, she had to do something about that game box, it was becoming an addiction for him!


She looked down at the yawning girl in her arms and cast a glance at the cat-shaped clock on the wall. Bulma lightly kissed her daughter's temple as she walked towards the single pink covered bed at the center of the room.


She smiled as she placed her daughter on the bed and pulled the covers around her, "Now, will you behave for Grandma and Grandpa tonight, Bra?"


Bra nodded, opening her mouth for another jaw-breaking yawn, "Yes Momma."


"And no midnight snacks," she said sternly, eyeing her daughter's drooping eyes.


"No snawcks," Bra sighed sadly under breath as she forced her eyes open, "But Momma, I'm not sweepy! I wanna stay with you, don't go..." she pouted, blinking furiously to stay awake.


Bulma watched quietly as her daughter fell slowly into the comfortable rhythm of sleep. She smiled. Bra was innocent... So perfect and wonderful. And to think, this little girl had been created from two of the most stubborn individuals on the planet.


"'Night baby, sweet dreams," she whispered, placing a parting kiss on Bra's cheek.


Bulma turned to leave the room, a content sigh leaving her lips.



Bulma glanced at her silver wrist watch as she quickly made her way to the back garden of the compound. It was going to be her final time in trying to persuade her husband to join her. If he didn't, then she would have to go with her second choice; Yamcha.


A smile slowly spread across her face. She had yet to tell Vegeta that if he didn't join her at the gala, her ex-boyfriend would. Now that would a reaction worth seeing! She knew how much he hated her former ex, but she never understood why.


Out of the entire group of Earth's Special Forces, for some a reason, Vegeta had zeroed in his hatred for Yamcha from day one and to this day, still showed some inkling of dislike in his speech with the poor man.


As she stepped out of the compound into the fresh air, she stopped walking and closed her eyes, taking a brief moment to inhale the scent of freshly cut grass and her mother's prize-winning maze-like garden. She loved spring time! Her eyes fluttered opened and landed upon the softly glowing, yet foreboding domed machine at the far end of the garden.


She sat down on a nearby garden bench and began to remove her shoes; there was no chance in hell she was going to walk on moist grass with her favorite white heels! She knew she would have to wash her feet before she left, but it was a price worth paying for if she didn't have to ruin her shoes in the end.


Once her shoes had been removed and placed upon the bench, she lifted up the hem of her dress and began the long trek towards the domed building that belonged solely to her husband.


It took her at least five minutes to reach the building!


Huffing and puffing, she hadn't even began to walk up the steep stairs leading up to the entrance, before the door slid open to reveal her husband standing in the doorway looking down at her with an angry scowl twisting his lips.


Bulma tilted her head back and beamed up at him, ignoring the scowl as she slowly ascended the stairs whilst being careful not to tread on her edge of her expensive dress.


She reached the top of the stairs, red faced with her chest heaving from the exertion of climbing and walking. As her gaze fell upon him, she folded her arms and mirrored his stance.


Gods... He was beautiful. Even with his dishevelled, sweaty appearance, he seemed to radiate the vibes of a wanton sex god.


And he was all hers!


She opened her mouth to speak but before she could say anything, he gave her an irritated growl before turning away and walking back inside his sacred building. Bulma sighed wearily and followed him in, secretly pleased as she noted that he didn't close the door in her face.


As he reached the center of the machine, he turned to face her once more with a raised eyebrow.


Bulma shook her head, "Well?" She demanded.


Vegeta cocked his head to one side as his ebony eyes roamed over every inch of her body, from the red rose in her hair to her narrow waist, down to her curvaceous hips. They slowly rose in their course to travel over her bare arms and visible clavicle before finally coming to rest on the visibly peaked valleys of her voluptuous cleavage.


Bulma held back a triumphant shout as she saw the first embers of desire trickle into his obsidian eyes. Now he would not be able to refuse her! If she could get him to agree soon, then they would both be in time for the gala.


After a few minutes of his staring, she rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers, breaking him from the enchanting spell her heaving cleavage had weaved upon him.


"Well, what?" He answered casually, snapping his eyes to her face as he leaned against the central control panel of the machine.


She forced down a frustrated scream. As much as she loved her husband, he could be far too infuriating for his own good! "What do you mean 'well what'? This is your last chance Vegeta!" She snapped, placing her hands on her hips.


He raised his eyebrow, "Last chance for what?"


"To join me at this years gala! Please?" She all but screamed him, desperately trying to hold her frustration and anger in check. How could someone as intelligent as him, be so dense sometimes? It was unfathomable and completely unreasonable!


Vegeta snorted, "You couldn't get me to that thing last year or the year before that, and it isn't going to happen this year either."


She cringed at that.


Last year and the previous few years had been an embarrassment for her. Showing up without her husband or an escort had peoples' tongues wagging non-stop and had caused her great embarrassment about her position in society.


Was she a single mother? Did she have a lover who fathered her illegitimate children? It was the only thing people would talk about for the whole night throughout the years, and even if they were whispering it to one another, she had still heard them and it had been mortifying... It still was.


That was why this year, she had a secret back-up. Yamcha.


She saw the resolve on his face and slowly felt her determination crumble. Her shoulders slumped forwards slightly.


"Fine," she sighed, "At least tell me how I look before I go?"


Bulma twirled around for him, giving him a sneaky glance at the backless dress as she turned; the white gauzy material barely covered her rear as it dipped down from the thin straps over her shoulders. She stopped her showcase and waited expectantly for his reply.


At length, he spoke.


"You look less uglier than usual," he answered flatly as he eyed the white dress thoughtfully, "Now leave, you're interrupting my training."


Bulma gaped at him in shock.


Over the years she had learned to interpret his harsh sentences for what they really meant and in his unspoken language he just had just told her;


'You look beautiful... Now leave, before I throw you down on the floor, have my way with you and rip your frivolous dress into shreds.'


The heavy fluttering of butterfly wings began to pound inside her stomach at his compliment. She squirmed under his intense gaze, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. How did he always manage to do this to her? How could he always turn her into a puddle of jelly by just one look? It frustrated her, but it also enthralled her.


She could see the warmth and amusement in eyes, burning with lust, desire and another emotion she could not name or find a place for, set beneath the stony features of his face.


He smirked as he saw the realization dawn on her face.


Bulma felt a welcome heat forming between her legs at the sight of his smirk. She knew she had to leave soon, but she couldn't seem to hold herself back from that evil, inviting smirk that was painted across her husband's face.


Walking up to him seductively, she gently placed a kiss on the end of his nose.


She withdrew to see him frown, the beginnings of a quiet growl rumbling from a place deep within his chest.


"Alright," she purred softly, "Have it your way. I'll leave, but," she added slowly, "Not before I get a goodnight kiss from you..." Her voice tapered off as she slowly trailed the tip of her tongue along the contour of his chiselled jaw.


Vegeta snarled like a predator as she winked and licked, her hands rubbing suggestively across his sweat-sheened pectorals.


A delicious shiver meandered slowly upwards from the base of his spine, spreading through his muscled shoulders as she continued her torturous, invigorating ministrations.


"As you wish," he growled hoarsely in reply.


Without preamble, he roughly pulled her body flush against his and crushed his lips upon hers, like a starving man reaching out to savour his last morsel of food before it vanished forever from his sight.


Bulma closed her eyes as his tongue plunged into her mouth, roaming inside the creases and folds as he kissed her roughly.


She moaned quietly against his mouth, bringing her arms around his thick neck to pull him closer. With a new found urgency, she kissed him back with equal fervor, eliciting a surprising groan from her husband.


As quickly as the kiss began, it had ended just as abruptly.


They stared at one another quietly, chests heaving from the raging tempests of desire brewing within their stomachs.


"Devious woman," Vegeta growled under his breath, brushing his lips across hers once more before they parted. He knew it was her ploy to get him to go with her, but it would be a cold day in hell before he ever agreed.


If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he didn't want the kiss to end. After all, where there was a kiss, more always followed and he couldn't seem to deny himself the pleasure of taking her. But as her heated body left his, he knew that tonight he would not be able to indulge in that pleasure.


Bulma's eyes travelled over the smeared crimson lipstick that graced Vegeta's lips. She could already feel the renewed heat between her legs burn from the handsome visage of her husband's dishevelled appearance.


She cursed softly at the gorgeous sight, before she realized almost immediately after he had pulled away from her, that he had been filthy with sweat and grime from his training. That thought alone almost doused the desire she felt bubbling in the pit of her stomach.


With shaky legs, she took a step back from his smirking, arrogant form. Uttering a silent prayer, she looked down and almost sighed with relief at the clean state of her pure white dress.


She looked back up at him and smiled, "I better get going," she murmured, "I've put Bra to bed so she shouldn't be able to bother you and I've called Mom over to look after her and Trunks so you can train through the night if you want to."


He nodded silently, a satisfied look gracing his face.


As an after thought, she added, "Trunks will probably be playing on his playstation right now and I highly doubt that Mom will be able to get him to go to bed, he's as stubborn as you are sometimes," she smirked as Vegeta snorted at the comment, "So could just check up on him at around ten o'clock and make sure he is in bed?"


Vegeta nodded once more, "Fine," he replied stoically, striding towards the exit so that he could usher his mate out of the training chamber. If he didn't, he knew she would regret it and be late for her 'gala' party.


Bulma followed him and stopped in the doorway, "Thanks Vegeta, you know he only listens to you."


She turned to leave but before she did, she saw a slight indecision in his eyes... As if he didn't want her to go but hand no choice because his pride wouldn't allow him to say anything. It were as though he was going to speak... But then decided against it.


"What is it?" She asked softly.


Bulma watched in fascination as the muscle in his cheek twitched involuntarily.


"Nothing," he ground out through gritted teeth. If she didn't go, he was going to have to take drastic measures... If the bulge in his shorts had anything to say about it.


Bulma smiled hesitantly and leaned close to peck his cheek, "Ok, well I'll be back around one in the morning and I'll make sure Yamcha has me back at that decent hour," she laughed to herself.


She turned to walk away when she felt his hand clamp down on her wrist. She looked back, frowning in confusion as his grip tightened.


"What did you say?" He demanded quietly, peering into her eyes intently.


Bulma blinked before realizing what she had just said, "N--Nothing Vegeta, I just said I'll be back at one."


"After that!" He barked, pulling her back inside the dome shaped building of gravity machine.


"Vegeta?!" She cried out in confusion as he pulled her back.


"What did you say Bulma?"


She sighed in defeat, "I said I'll have Yamcha bring me back at a decent hour."


Vegeta clenched his jaw tightly, "And were you ever planning on telling me that little bit of information?"


Bulma looked at him in wonderment. It was the first time she had ever see him act jealous, openly. "Vegeta what is wrong with you? Yamcha's a friend, he's just escorting me there!"


"That idiot wants more than to be your escort!" He spat bitterly, "You and I both know that."
Bulma bit her lip. It was true. On more than a few occasions, Yamcha had tried to make her 'see the error of her ways' when she chose Vegeta over him, but she knew he only did it because he was lonely. He was the only member of Earth's Special Forces that didn't seem to have anyone.


She decided to voice this thought, "Come on Vegeta," she reasoned diplomatically, "He's just lonely. Everybody has someone to share their life with, he just feels a little left out, that's all."


Vegeta frowned and looked away, not voicing his confusion at her words.


Bulma knew he didn't understand her, so she began to elaborate, "You have me," she said softly, smiling as his eyes met hers reluctantly, "Goku has Chi Chi, Gohan has Videl and Krillen has 18. Even Tien and Chaotzu have each other. Everybody has somebody, except him. Cut him some slack, Vegeta, he's just feeling a little lonely."


Silence.


"That is no excuse to tread on marked property!" Vegeta said after a lengthy pause.


"I'm not you're property," she snapped.


"Yes you are," he said with determination.


Bulma groaned in annoyance, "I can't believe you're getting jealous over this! Vegeta, you're forty-seven years old, act your age and stop this nonsense!"


"I am not jealous! The Saiyan Prince has nothing to be jealous of, especially over that moron," Vegeta hissed, clenching his fists together, "And I only state a valid point. He should not lay his hands on other peoples' possessions, especially what is mine! The fool should have learnt that years ago, but still he keeps crawling back to you on all fours like a rabid dog--!!"


She put her fingers over his lips, silencing his angry speech. Shouting and screaming would not get through to him; she had learnt that the hard way over the years of arguing with him. He only ever responded when she wasn't his angry barbs.


"Vegeta," she started gently, "He knows I'm yours... And I always will be, nothing can change that and you and I both know he could never compare to you. Nothing, no-one can take this away from us..."


He stared at her silently, letting her soft words slowly sink in. "Prove it then..." he whispered, growling suggestively, blowing cold streams of air into the canal of her ear. He smirked as he felt her shiver against his body.


Bulma grinned.


It was tempting, very tempting.


"No," she mumbled, "I--I have to go..." She gasped as his volatile fingers slowly began to lift the white dress from her hips, grazing the dipping valley between her legs as he bunched the material slowly.


Her body trembled as his hands wandered around the delicate planes of her hips, bringing each part of her body to life as his hands snaked its way towards the center of her need and heat.


He was so close...


An idea suddenly struck her.


A stupid, extremely exciting, incredibly arousing idea...


She pulled away from him, much to his surprise, distinctly aware of her dress falling back down to her ankles as she ran down the steep steps. Through the darkness, she could see him look at her with faint amusement and intrigue.


Bulma smirked into the dark night, at his shadowed figure in the doorway of the gravity machine. "If you want me to stay," she shouted up at him, "You'll have to catch me and convince me!" She had already made up her mind... She wouldn't be going to the gala; not while she had a husband that could make her scream out from the pleasure he evoked upon her body.


Her father would be disappointed in the morning when he found out, but Bulma was far from caring as she waved at her husband, blowing him a cheeky kiss before ducking into the tall shrubbery of her mother's garden. It was a maze of flowers, shrubs and hedges that took even the most intelligent people a long time to make their way out of.


But Bulma didn't plan to leave the maze... At least, not yet anyway.



Vegeta quietly watched her disappear behind the bush.


A feral smirk spread across his lips.


With his ingenuity he had killed two birds with one stone; he had forced Bulma to stay home that evening and had received a mighty prize in return for his comments. An added bonus was that she would not be spending the evening with her idiotic ex-mate.


He would take that kind of victory, any day.


Vegeta levitated from his position in the doorway and landed softly on the velvety grass, in front of the hedge his mate had disappeared behind. As he followed her tracks slowly into the maze of bushes and flowers, he could steadily feel the blood beginning to pump furiously in his veins.


He smirked, treading quietly as though he were a panther, ready to pounce on its prey.


A flash of blue mingled with red whipped around the corner of bushes ahead of him. He grinned viciously, baring his razor sharp teeth as he followed her around the corner, taking his sweet time. He loved the thrill of the chase. It would make his victory all the sweeter in the end.


As he rounded the corner, he stopped and eyed the two separating paths that led in different directions.


"Which way, naughty woman... Which way?" He breathed to himself, closing his eyes as he inhaled the strongly potent, sweet fragrance that emanated in waves from the flowers. He sniffed the air, feeling a tangible, familiar taste hit the back of his throat from the left pathway.


With an evil smirk, he followed the smell that rose above the fragrance of the assorted flowers. As he entered deeper into the garden maze, his sensitive Saiyan hearing picked up a faint rustle of leaves from ahead.


He had her.


Growling, he quietly rose from the ground and flew quickly towards the sound.


He phased in front of his wife, smirking as she shrieked and fell back on her rear. "Did you really think you could hide from me?" He said nonchalantly, looking down at her as she rubbed her sore bottom.


Bulma laughed, grimacing slightly as she felt the dew from the grass seep into the seams of her dress. It was official. The dress was ruined.


"Vegeta, you ruined my dress," she voiced in exasperation.


He chuckled cruelly, pouncing on her before she could stand up, "It was going to get ruined anyway," with one swipe of his hand he had ripped the dress away from her body, "See?" He snarled, trailing hot kisses down to the gentle rise of her chest.


Bulma gasped in delight, shivering as the cool wind of the evening caressed her bare skin. She arched her back as she felt his firm body pin her down against the soft ground, nipping and kissing further down the column of her throat. Her breathing grew ragged with anticipation as his hands roamed the inner curves of her thighs, forcing them apart to give him easy access. She moaned quietly as his hands and mouth carved a mark of passion on her body, yet again.


She knew--knew she had made the right choice in staying.


Bulma cried out into the star filled sky as she felt her body peak and escalate to a new height of pleasure. She panted quietly as Vegeta moved against her at a steady pace. She desperately tried to catch her breath as her husband growled, finishing with her in a blaze of blind heat and lust.


He rolled off and landed softly beside her.


Instinctively, she curled up into his side, unaware that they were still in the middle of her mother's garden, and unaware that they could be caught. A satisfied grin tugged at her lips as she snuggled closer, feeling the intense heat from his body envelope her own, warming her from the cool but gentle breeze.


Bulma looked up at her husband and smiled as she caught him staring down at her silently. This was the first time they had ever done such a thing outdoors. It felt invigorating--it felt liberating and ever so slightly naughty.


She giggled to herself, watching with surprise as he reached down and pulled something from the webbed tangles of her ruined hair.


"Dirty woman," he growled, resting an arm behind his head for a pillow as his mate's warm, pliable body molded into his side.


Bulma smirked as he threw a single leaf to the side, "If I'm dirty then--"


"Bulma?" Someone called from the distance.


She froze, her panicked gaze falling upon Vegeta's. She frowned as his naked body tensed beneath hers.


"Bulma?!" The voice called out again, this time louder.


That voice! Oh, she knew that voice... It was Yamcha, here to pick her up for the annual gala.


"I know you're out here Bulma, I can feel your ki!" Yamcha called out again to her, "What are you doing? We're going to be late!"


"Shit!" She hissed quietly into Vegeta's ear. Bulma watched her husband's face suspiciously as he smirked down at her.


"Vegeta," she warned, "No!" She knew that look. The look that said 'pay back is a bitch.' She shook her head furiously, "Don't you dare!" She whispered angrily, "I will--" But before she could say any more, she was scooped up into steely his arms as he rose from the soft ground.


"I hate you," Bulma whined, trying to pry herself from his grasp.


He raised his eyebrow and cocked his head, "Somehow woman, I have a feeling that you're lying."


A scream tore from her throat as he propelled them into the air at the speed of a lightning. She didn't know where he was taking her, she just hoped it was somewhere warm. She sadly watched the last shreds of her white dress flutter into the bush of roses they had made love behind. They had no clothes and she had absolutely no idea what he was planning with to do with her.


Bulma looked over Vegeta's shoulder and gasped as she saw the silhouette of her former love, gradually becoming smaller and smaller as he looked up at them, their naked bodies glowing from the soft light the of stars.


A ruby blush stained her cheeks. She prayed he hadn't seen them.


She sighed and buried her face into the side of Vegeta's neck as the wind whipped into her. She almost felt sorry for leaving Yamcha like that. It was rude and she was certain he would be hurt by the blatant lack of respect she had shown in not bothering to call and let him know that their evening was going to be cancelled. But she knew he would get over it. Just like he had done in the past.


She smiled to herself, gripping onto her husband's neck tightly as they both flew naked over the sky scraper buildings of West City.


He looked down at the silent woman in his arms.


He should feel lucky that she hadn't hurled insults at him for his little stunt in the garden. In reality, he felt extremely lucky. Lucky to be with her, lucky to have her.


As the rushing wind around him soothed his heated body, he smirked and placed a gentle kiss against his mate's temple.


"I am.. thankful, you didn't go," he muttered, before his pride could stop him from voicing the truth as it had done many times in the past.


Bulma stirred in his arms at the sound of his voice. She looked up into his glittering star-filled eyes as they flew high above the city, the harsh wind blowing the long cerulean locks of her hair away from her face.


He watched intently as ever so slowly, a content smile weaved its way upon her lips, her face glowing softly like dawn breaking through the twilight on a new day.


"Me too," she whispered into the night, burrowing deeper against his chest, "Me too."


Looking down at her as she replied to his confession, he finally realized that luck had nothing to do with it. Had nothing to do with them. She was right. Nothing and no-one could ever take this away from them.


He knew that now.




AN: I don't own the poem either! I love writing these, it's a shame that there aren't many of them out there.

Converting /tmp/phptdYpLX to /dev/stdout