Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Faln'ro ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the characters used in this story. Nor do I own F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby."

Author's Note: Okay, I know, some of you may be wondering just why this is being posted now. You may be saying "What the hell? Today is not Thanksgiving!" But it is! I am Canadian, and so I am posting this on Canadian Thanksgiving, which is today! I hope you all enjoy the fic, even if your Thanksgiving has not come yet!

Special Thanks to Vegetababe, Eric Jacobson, and Bulma Peacecraft for beta-ing!

Faln'ro

Bulma smiled as she scraped the rake along the ground, pulling crunchy, fallen leaves into the gargantuan pile of crisp reds, yellows, and browns. Autumn had settled upon West Capitol City, and the numerous trees scattered about the Capsule Corporation compound had all decided to shed their foliage on the same day.

Bulma, of course, did not have to rake up these leaves, as there were lawn care professionals tackling the job in every other area, but she took it upon herself to rake the house's front lawn for the first time each year. It was sort of like a groundbreaking ceremony for her, to remind herself that summer was over. Fall had begun, and to quote Jordan Baker, of F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic novel, The Great Gatsby, "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall."

Doing such menial tasks also enabled Bulma to keep her feet on the ground. It was easy to forget sometimes, being so rich, that she had to obey both the laws of nature, and even more strict, society.

But who wanted to live in a society where the idea of love was frowned upon, scoffed at? That's why she was raking leaves alone on that chilly autumn morning. Yamcha had laughed at her ideas of love and her belief that everyone has a destined soul mate. He had told her that he didn't like the idea of his fate being decided, so he didn't believe in love. He had laughed outright, and told her that there was no such thing as true love, and patted her on the head as if she were some sort of child, and he the bully who had just told her that Santa Claus did not exist.

But Bulma had refused to give up her hopes and so she dispelled Yamcha's careless notions with a simple flick of her hand, told him goodbye, and walked out of his life forever. Romantically speaking, at least. Fate would prove Yamcha wrong one day, she knew, but she had no time to waste on a man who tossed her love aside so easily.

And that is why she raked alone that morning, quietly humming an old tune whose name she had long forgotten. And so, alone, with cheeks rosy from the mid morning frost, Bulma let out a joyful squeal as she tossed her rake aside and dove into the massive pile of crackling leaves.

And that is when Vegeta decided to come out of the gravity chamber, dressed in a pair of loose sweat pants and a pair of beaten up sneakers. He held a plain white T-shirt in one hand, using it as a towel to mop the sweat off of his face and chest. The first thing the proud prince saw, was the highly respected heiress to Capsule Corporation, rolling about in a pile of leaves like some filthy, flea ridden animal.

"Do we need to take you to the vet again, Bulma?" he snickered, walking up to the now still woman, where he crouched down so he was at her eye level. "Do you have worms again?"

"Shut up, you ass." She grumbled back. "For your information, I am reliving some of my most cherished childhood memories."

"By rolling around on the ground? Oh! I get it, you were a puppy in your childhood, and now you've grown up into a bitch!" He smirked, no real malice in his voice. All he wanted was to get a rise out of the woman.

"Oh be quiet and leave me to roll in peace." She huffed, crossing her arms. "Unless, of course, you'd like to join me." Leaf diving was always more fun when you had someone to wrestle with, and even though she vowed never to say it aloud, Bulma found herself thinking that wrestling with the Prince would be, well…fun.

"I think I'll pass."

"What's the matter Vegeta? Afraid you'll get leaves in your hair?" The Saiyan no Ouji raised one eyebrow, and she patted a spot on the ground next to her, a teasing smile stretched out between cherry cheeks.

"In case you were too absorbed in yourself to notice, Woman," Vegeta snorted, "I'm not nearly stupid enough to be goaded into something simply because you accuse me of being afraid of it."

"Party pooper!" Bulma called out after his back as he walked away. She sighed to herself and shrugged her shoulders before giggling and taking another dive into her pile.

***

"Moshi moshi?" Bulma spoke into the telephone. "Fujiko? Oh hey! I'm so glad you called…Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to spend Thanksgiving with us…Yep! Everyone will be here…Of course I want you to bring Daisuke! I haven't seen him since he was what, ten? Yeah, ten…Okay! Sure, see you then!"

Bulma hung up the phone with a smile on her face. Despite being a few years older, Fujiko had been one of her best friends during high school…unfortunately though, she had gotten pregnant during her senior year, and had almost flunked out. Little Daisuke though, he was the joy in her life…after his father walked out on them like he had…

"Enough about that!" she said to herself. "My mission over the holidays will be to make sure Fujiko and Daisuke have a good time!"

"Who the hell are Fujiko and Daisuke?" A gruff voice from the doorway made her jump.

"Fujiko is my old high school friend, and Daisuke is her son. He's fourteen."

"Fourteen? A high school friend of yours has a fourteen-year-old brat? How old was she when it was born?"

"Seventeen. She made a mistake, that's all…but she's a really good mom…"

"What kind of man would impregnate a seventeen year old?" Vegeta seemed disgusted at the thought. It was just plain dirty…

"He was only eighteen, Vegeta." He scrunched up his face in confusion, and cocked his head to the side.

"How old are Humans when they start to procreate?"

"I dunno…puberty…I think maybe between the ages of 11 and 14, most boys well…gain the ability to impregnate a girl…It doesn't mean they actually do though…Why? How old do Saiyans have to be?"

"About the same age." Vegeta grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water from a jug in the fridge. "We just well, don't do it that early. Most Saiyans have brats in their late twenties, early thirties or so."

"Well most humans to that too! Mid to late…wait a minute! Goku was only about twenty when Gohan was born…" Bulma put her hands on her hips.

"He must be an exception." Vegeta shrugged. "It means nothing to me though. It's an adaptation, I suppose…the lower class makes up in numbers, for what they lack in individual strength. Besides, if there were too many elites, Vegetasei would have been destroyed long before it was, by its own inhabitants in a mad power struggle." He shrugged again, downed his water, and set the glass neatly into the dishwasher.

"Back to my earlier questions…why in hell are your silly friend and her brat coming here?"

"Thanksgiving."

"Care to explain?"

"It's a day where we get together with friends and family, and give thanks for all that we have." Vegeta looked unimpressed. "And we eat a lot of food."

"I'm starting to like some of these Human holidays of yours."

"I knew you would." Bulma rolled her eyes, and Vegeta sauntered out of the kitchen, his muscular rear swaying quite attractively, in a masculine sort of way, as he went.

***

Vegeta swung his fist out at the invisible enemy, the manifestation of everything he had battled throughout his entire life. Hunger, pain, humiliation, anger…all rolled into one.

He kicked out with his foot, again at his own shadow, yet his mind was not quite focused on the task at hand.

Feh…giving thanks…what could I possibly have to give thanks for? My shitty, fucked up life? The curse of having to live in another's shadow? First Frieza…now Kakkarot… The fact that I can't stop thinking about how pretty that idiot woman looked, with her cheeks pink from the cold, and those little leaf bits stuck in her hair?

I'm supposed to be a warrior…but then again, I suppose even warriors have urges…and with all that talk about procreation this morning…I mean, really, if I were on Vegetasei, I would have mated by now…perhaps even had a few brats to carry on the royal legacy…

Fuck that…life sucks, and I've got nothing to be thankful for. Absolutely nothing.

***

"FUJIKO!" Bulma squealed, running down to meet her friend, who was just stepping out of a green capsule car of a slightly older model. She caught her friend up in a hug, practically squeezing the life out of her.

"I'm happy to see you too, Bulma!" Fujiko laughed. "After all, it's been what, four years, hasn't it?"

"Heh heh…yeah…since Kento left…" Bulma's voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Where's Daisuke?"

"Still in the car." Fujiko looked over her shoulder. "Daisuke? Are you just going to sit there all day?"

"No." A deep, sullen voice grumbled. A click was heard, and the door was slowly pushed open, to reveal the young teen, dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a navy blue fleece sweater. His sneakers were undone, and his hair stuck out in heavily gelled spikes atop his head. A pair of large headphones was resting around his neck, and Bulma could hear the basics of some beat or another.

"Daisuke! It's been a long time, ne?"

"I guess." The boy shrugged, hefting a heavy looking backpack onto one shoulder.

"You two must be cold, and tired. Let's get your bags and go in!" Fujiko nodded, and popped her key into the trunk. She and Bulma hauled all of the bags out of it, while Daisuke watched uninterestedly. "Are you guys hungry? How long has it been since you've eaten?"

Fujiko shrugged, and jumped as a familiar mechanic hiss filled the air. Vegeta had chosen that moment to emerge from his gravity training room. Bulma scowled as Fujiko hurried to pick up the things that had fallen out of her purse when she jumped, and Daisuke watched in awe as Vegeta sauntered down the ramp, shirtless and bloody. He spat once, and grabbed the towel from around his neck, using it to clean up his bleeding arm.

"Vegeta! What the hell did you do now!?" Bulma yelled.

"It's nothing to be concerned over, Woman." Vegeta shrugged and turned to walk inside the house, still holding the ragged towel to his arm. Bulma just growled and grabbed the nearest of Fujiko and Daisuke's bags, then stomped into the house, with the other two at her heels.

"Is that the Vegeta I've been hearing so much about?" Fujiko asked, recalling the frequent phone conversations she and Bulma shared as she set her things on the floor. "You didn't tell me he was such a hunk, Bulma."

"Mom…" Daisuke groaned.

"Oh, excuse me for having hormones." Fujiko laughed, as her son first blushed, then scowled at her.

***

Daisuke was bored as hell. He had just been shown his room, and really didn't feel like unpacking at that moment. He was too curious about that strange man…Vegeta.

"I wonder where his room is," he muttered to himself, absently stroking the light stubble on his chin. He pulled himself off the bed and left the room, opting to do a little exploring. For the most part, things were pretty boring. Guest rooms, and some storage rooms full of boxes…perhaps he could explore those boxes later…

But then he wandered into another room, different from all the rest. It had next to no furniture in it, compared to the other rooms. Just a bed, a small dresser, and a shelf. There were two doors, one leading to a closet full of clothing, most of it looking as if it had never been worn, and another leading into a small, private bathroom, no bathtub or shower.

There were a few toiletries, all just the usual things a male would keep. Soap, deodorant, toilet paper, a razor, a comb and a brush…There were also a few bottles of cologne, expensive stuff that looked as if it had never been used.

"What do you think you're doing in here, boy?" A gruff voice startled him, and he almost dropped the bottle of expensive cologne he had been examining.

"I…I'm sorry…" he set the bottle on the counter. "I…I was just looking around, and I ended up in here…I didn't know it was your room."

"Just move." Vegeta stepped past the startled boy and pulled open his mirror cabinet, pulling out some gauze. Daisuke watched as the older man first washed, then neatly bandaged his own arm. When he was done, Vegeta put the extra bandaging back into the cabinet, examining his face as he closed the little mirrored door. Realizing that he had not shaved in at least two days, he opened the cabinet back up again and grabbed a can of shaving cream. Daisuke watched as he first lathered up, then shaved his face, being careful not to cut himself.

Daisuke absently fingered his own chin, where the light stubble was beginning to grow. He didn't even know how to shave…he had no one to teach him…

"Are you still here?" Vegeta grumped, wiping his now smooth face off with a towel.

"Sorry…"

Vegeta watched for a moment, as the young Human shifted beneath his gaze. There was something odd about this one. One eyebrow raised as he observed the stubble on the boy's chin. "You might want to try this. You look like a hobo."

Vegeta tossed a fresh razor to the Daisuke, who almost dropped it.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"I…I don't know how…" Daisuke muttered, embarrassed, and looked away.

"Don't know how?"

"My…My dad left, before I got old enough to shave…and well…I was too embarrassed to ask my mom…"

"What do you mean, your father left? Where is he?"

"We don't know…He just took off one day…and never came back. He doesn't call, or write, or visit…"

"Shaving is simple, boy." Vegeta grabbed the can of foam and handed it to Daisuke. "Just squirt some of that out, and put it on your face."

Daisuke did as he was told, and soon, thanks to Vegeta's instruction, his young chin was smooth and clean.

"Umm…thanks…"

Vegeta just shrugged. "Fine, now get out of my room."

Daisuke nodded and ducked out of the Saiyan's domain as quickly as he could.

***

"Hey Vegeta…" Bulma sat down on the steps beside him, pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders to ward off the late night chill. "I…I heard what you did today, with Daisuke…That was really nice of you."

"I remember what it was like." Vegeta shrugged. "Being his age, with no father to look up to…A boy…a boy needs a male influence…"

"You're just a big softie under all that muscle and attitude, aren't you?" Bulma teased, leaning up against him.

"You have no idea how wrong you are Woman." Vegeta muttered, his lips near her ear. "I think you'd be surprised at just how hard I can get…" He smirked, and stood up, leaving a stunned Bulma all alone out on the porch.

"Wha…What did he just say?" she gasped to herself. "Did he say that to me???" she shivered slightly, trying to convince herself that it was from the cold, but allowed a tiny smile to spread across her face at the thought of the Saiyan.

"I wonder about you sometimes Vegeta…" she muttered into the night. "Do you believe in love?" With a sigh, she hugged herself tighter, trying to conserve her body heat. "You must…to be so passionate about everything you do. Nobody who doesn't believe in love could be so determined, so…so…you…"

"Hey Bulma…"

"Daisuke? What are you doing up?" she turned around, hoping the boy had not heard her muttering about Vegeta.

"I couldn't sleep…Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

"I…I wanted to know…do you know where all those scars came from?"

Scars? Vegeta… "I…I'm not quite sure…but even if I did, I'm not sure he would like me to tell…Vegeta is…he's a very private person, Dai."

"Mom told me you said he's a jerk."

"I…" Bulma blushed. "He's not a jerk, he's just…Vegeta…." She laughed, wrapping an arm around Daisuke's bony shoulders. "He's had a rough life, Dai…you know, both of his parents died when he was a little boy…"

"Really?"

"He doesn't talk about his past much, but from what I've gathered, he was only about six or so…I'm not quite sure."

"He didn't seem to want me around…until I just sort of let it slip…that my dad ran out on mom and me…"

"Mom and I." Bulma smiled, correcting his grammar, and giving him a playful little squeeze on the shoulder. "I think he prefers to be around people who can realize a little of what he's been through… I asked him why he showed you how to shave today…and he just sort of shrugged and told me he remembered what it was like to be your age, with no father…"

"Who raised him? Didn't he have like, foster parents or anything?"

"I…Vegeta was never close to the people who took him in after his parents died…but well, Dai, if you really want to know…"

"I should ask Vegeta…" Daisuke smiled, finishing her sentence. "He's just sort of…intimidating."

"Yep. That's Vegeta!" Bulma smiled, and stretched her legs, getting up to go inside. "Don't stay up to late Dai, and just…If Vegeta doesn't answer your questions, just try not to be too offended…it's just the way he is."

"Okay Bulma…Thanks."

***

"You know what we need to do today?" Bulma smiled at Fujiko across the breakfast table. "We need to go shopping."

"Good idea! We'll take Daisuke too, so he can get a new outfit for Thanksgiving dinner. I told him to pack something nice, so you know what he does? Packs his grubby old jeans and t-shirts…"

"Aww…come on mom. I don't want to go shopping with you guys! I mean, last time you took me to a mall…"

"Vegeta will come." Bulma nudged the shirtless Saiyan, who was currently on his fifth helping of bacon and eggs. "That way, you won't have to hang around with us old ladies all day!"

"Well…" Daisuke looked hopefully at Vegeta, who was scowling at Bulma.

"You will come, won't you Vegeta?"

Damn puppy dog eyes…Vegeta growled to himself, then at the woman beside him. "Fine. But I am not spending a whole day at the mall." He caught Daisuke's smile out of the corner of his eye. "And you had better make this 'Thanksgiving' dinner worth it, Woman."

***

"Come on Vegeta! Just try it on!"

"Woman, I hate you." Vegeta growled. "If you're going to make me shop, at least let me pick my own clothing."

"Well, what did you have in mind?"

"Just give me some damn money, and let me go. I'll take the boy with me if you want. Just let me GO!"

Bulma snorted and dug out one of her credit cards, handing it to Vegeta. She whispered the pin number quickly into his ear. "Meet you guys by the food court at 5, okay?"

"Whatever. Come on boy, let's go." Vegeta stalked out of the prissy store, chucking away the tie Bulma had tried to make him try on. "Where do you suggest we go now?"

"Uhmmm…we could go to…Well, we could wander around until we see a decent store…" Daisuke shrugged. He didn't know this mall any better than Vegeta did.

"Sounds like a plan. Let's go." Vegeta stood for a moment, before picking a direction and heading down a hallway.

"This place looks okay, Vegeta." Daisuke pointed to a store, with fashionable, yet classy looking clothing in the window.

"Hi, I'm Brad! Can I help you handsome young men today?" A perky salesman popped up out of nowhere, causing Daisuke to let out a gasp.

"Uhmmm…" The boy spoke up, seeing the strange glare Vegeta was giving the salesman. "We're looking for something nice, kinda semi-casual, I guess, for a Thanksgiving dinner party sort of thing..."

"Follow me!"

Half an hour later, Vegeta and Daisuke were both loading outfits into their changing stalls, wondering how they were going to fit themselves in, much less move around enough to actually try on the clothing.

"Come on out!!!" Brad's singsong voice floated up above the doors, and into the little stalls as Daisuke groaned, pushing open his door. He stepped out, wearing a pair of black dress pants, and an olive colored button up shirt.

"This is disgusting…" Vegeta peeked over his door and snorted mirthfully.

"It looks like you got dragged through the mud, boy." He turned and tossed a pair of pants over the top of the door. "Servant man, go get me another pair of these, one size smaller in the waist."

"Will do! Oh, but have you seen the ones…oh…the ones with the red stitching, on the pockets?" Brad was obviously excited, as he traced the outline of his pockets with his fingers trying to demonstrate the red stitching.

"Errr…no…" Vegeta mumbled, pulling on a shirt.

"Well, let's see here, what's your size." Brad pulled out the tag on the pants Vegeta had tossed. "I'll go get you a pair!" he squealed.

Vegeta admired himself in the mirror, pulling lightly at the shirt. It fit very nicely…but he didn't like it.

"I couldn't find them in your size!" Brad sighed, handing Vegeta another pair of pants. "But I did find these! I bet they'd look real great on you!" The Saiyan snatched the pants and stalked back into his change room, kicking off the ones he had on. A moment later, he came back out to admire himself in the large mirror on the wall. They were simple black dress pants, but they fit his body perfectly.

"These are fine. I'll get them." Vegeta turned to go back into his stall.

"Super!"

There was still a shirt to find though, so Vegeta continued to rifle through the pile of clothes on the little bench in his room, tossing the ones he didn't like over the door and into Brad's waiting arms. He pulled on a cream colored, woven turtle neck sweater, and, folding the collar down once so it sat as it should be, admired himself in the mirror. It looked good…more than good. The sweater stretched tightly across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging him in a most intimate embrace as it highlighted well built torso of the Saiyan no Ouji.

Vegeta smirked at his reflection. He knew Bulma would be impressed. Why that mattered, he didn't want to know. He simply convinced himself that since she would probably pick out some scandalously revealing dress, that he should make the effort to knock her socks off. Well, she probably wouldn't be wearing socks…

"Umm…Hey Vegeta…what do you think of this one?" Daisuke's voice caught Vegeta's attention, and so the Saiyan stepped out, still wearing his drop dead sexy outfit, to see what Daisuke had chosen.

"Ohh! Mister, you are looking good!" Brad clapped his hands with excitement when he saw Vegeta, who just snorted and turned back to Daisuke. The boy stood nervously as the Prince adopted his usual stance, feet shoulder length apart, and arms crossed over his chest.

"Hmm…it's okay." Daisuke smiled, looking down at the black pants and smoky gray sweater he had chosen.

"I'll get it then." Vegeta nodded, and they both went back into their stalls to change back into their normal clothing.

As Vegeta punched in the pin number for Bulma's credit card, Brad chatted idly about this and that, his eyes taking on a dreamy look as he complimented Vegeta's choice of clothing.

***

"I wonder how Vegeta and Daisuke are making out…" Bulma muttered to Fujiko, who was admiring a long, strappy black dress. "Try it on Fu, you know it will look great." Bulma laughed, plucking the dress off of the rack.

"But Bulma…the cost…I mean, I just can't afford…" she was cut off, mid sentence.

"It's on me!" Bulma shoved her friend into the nearest changing room with the dress, and then shut the door after her. "You're not allowed to come out until I see you in that thing!"

Fujiko emerged a few moments later, the evening gown hugging her form. The black hue looked wonderful on her, setting off her dark hair and eyes nicely. "I don't know Bulma…"

"You're getting it. And that's final!" Bulma giggled, waving a credit card in the air. "You can't argue with me on this one Fu. It's high time you started looking good and dating again. Daisuke needs a male influence in his life."

"I know…"

"Good! Now, I'm going to keep looking." Bulma sighed as she rifled through rack after rack of dresses, not a single one catching her eye. She knew she had to make an extra effort to look good this year, because of Vegeta. Despite the spandex training gear, the man had an excellent fashion sense, and she knew that she had to try and top him. "Again with the competing," she muttered to herself. "But well, he said I had better make dinner worth it." she smirked devilishly, "So I had better make sure he has lots of eye candy for dessert."

"Hey Bulma! I think I found something!" Fujiko held a dress out.

"Ohhh…I do like this." Bulma smiled as she fingered the soft navy blue material. "It's beautiful."

She jumped into a change room, taking a moment as she undressed to admire her figure before she slipped into the simple dress. It had a halter style neck, with a circular keyhole, about an inch in diameter, right between her breasts, to add a bit of flair. The bodice was tight and formfitting, with a built in bra to give her some support. It flared out a slight bit at the hips, leaving the material to float gently around her long, creamy legs, down to her ankles. Thin stitched lines of silver thread adorned each hem, adding a slight bit of decoration to the gown.

"Bulma, you look amazing." Fujiko gasped as her friend stepped out of the stall. "Absolutely beautiful."

"I know!" Bulma giggled, twirling around once.

***

"Look Fu, there they are!" Bulma dragged her bags along to where Vegeta and Daisuke were standing, holding one bag each. "What did you get?

"Clothing." Vegeta snorted. "It looks like you cleaned out a whole store."

"Shut up."

"How clever."

"Ugh…I'm so thirsty…" Fujiko muttered, looking longingly over at the food court.

"Okay, I can take a hint. Let's go eat." Bulma laughed, and the little group trudged over, plopping down at one of the tables.

***

"Hey Vegeta…" Bulma smiled, sitting down on the steps with the Saiyan Prince. It was nighttime again, and everyone else was asleep.

"Hn."

"Hey, I just wanted to thank you again, for being so nice to Dai today…"

"I just wanted to get away from you." Vegeta snorted.

"Even so…it was still really nice of you." Bulma inched closer to the Saiyan, realizing just how romantic their situation was.

Here we are, all alone, under the stars…talking about life… She sighed. Why am I feeling so attracted to Vegeta lately? I mean, sure, he's good looking…but so was Yamcha, and I never felt like this about him… She peeked at him from the corner of her eye, but he didn't notice, or at least give any indication that he had, as he was gazing up into the night sky.

Why is she staring at me? Vegeta wondered, feeling blue eyes upon him. And why do I like it? It had been a long time since the Saiyan no Ouji had actually found himself more than somewhat attracted to a female, and he wondered why Bulma, of all the women on Chikyuu, was the one he had to want. He knew the answer though, deep down, he knew that she reminded him of Saiyan females.

The women of his race were not nearly as strong as the males, the usual strength of a Saiyan woman only about Krillin's power level. Of course, there were a few exceptions, like women of the royal bloodline, but no matter what power level, Saiyan women were absolute harpies, while at the same time being tender lambs.

Vegeta remembered vaguely, the way his mother used to talk back to his father, insulting him at every opportunity she could, and acting as if she were too good for him, even though she knew he could kill her in an instant. Yet, when he was hurt, she was always there, comforting him and trying not to let the threatening tears escape her eyes. She defended his honor as if it were her own and did things to please him, even while she called him some of the worst names Vegeta had ever heard.

"Vegeta…do you believe in love?" Bulma's timid voice cut into his thoughts.

"Huh? What are you talking about, Woman?"

"Love…do you believe it's real? Or do you think it's all just a lie?"

"I…" Vegeta was very tempted to tell her love was just a big farce, but he knew he didn't really believe that. He knew that his parents had loved each other. "I…I suppose I believe that love can be real…but you Humans use the term far too loosely…" he snorted. "Traditionally, Saiyans believe that everyone has a faln'ro…" He spoke the alien term with a deep voice, the gruff sounds rolling off his tongue. "I suppose the closest Human term to that would be a 'soul mate,' as you call it."

"Really?" Bulma felt her heart begin to pound. Vegeta, Vegeta of all people believed that everyone has a soul mate…

"Hai. Everyone is destined for one specific person. But that doesn't mean that everyone ends up with their faln'ro, sometimes they die before they can get together. But that cannot be changed. No matter what a person does, he cannot speed up, or slow down the realization of whom his faln'ro is. Nobody can change the will of the Rafe."

"Do you think you'll ever meet your faln'ro?"

"I don't know." Vegeta shrugged. "She might already be dead. She was probably Saiyan, and would have died when Vegetasei was destroyed. It's possible that I was never meant to meet her."

"That's a sad thought." Bulma sighed, snuggling close to Vegeta's side. "Maybe your faln'ro was never Saiyan at all. Maybe you'll meet her here on Chikyuu." She yawned, resting her head on his bare shoulder.

"Perhaps." Vegeta looked down at the head resting on his shoulder. Perhaps I've already met her.

***

"All I want is a little bit, Chi Chi!" Goku whined, looking at all the food his wife was setting out on the Briefs' counter.

"NO! Go into the living room with the other guys." Chi Chi scowled at him. "You can eat at dinner time."

Goku sighed and shuffled away, the edges of his pants trailing on the floor. The Son family had just arrived, and Gohan was sitting in the living room attempting to start a conversation with Daisuke. Yamcha was there, along with Tien and Chiaotzu, who were playing cards. Vegeta had yet to make an appearance, and Bulma and Fujiko were still upstairs, getting dressed.

"Hey daddy!" Gohan smiled, and Daisuke took the opportunity to excuse himself. He didn't really mean to be rude, but in all honesty, he had no interest in talking to a boy nearly half his age.

Daisuke mounted the steps, heading up toward his room, when he ran into Vegeta, who was just stepping out of the shower. "Hey Vegeta!"

"Boy." Vegeta nodded in acknowledgement, then continued on the way toward his room to get dressed.

The Saiyan no Ouji secured the towel around his waist as he pulled out his new clothing, taking a moment to rip the tags off and toss them into the trashcan. He shuffled over to his dresser, pulled open a drawer and grabbed a pair of black boxers, slipping them on, and pulling them up to rest on his hips.

Into the little bathroom he went, tossing the wet towel into the laundry basket as he grabbed his toothbrush, and the toothpaste. As he brushed his pearly whites, paying special attention to the overdeveloped canines, he grabbed up a comb, running it through his thick hair with the other hand.

Spitting into the sink, he turned on the tap and rinsed his mouth out, before cupping some water into his hands and taking a drink. Stretching his arms, he wandered back into his room and pulled on his new pants, securing them, and then looping a black leather belt around his waist. Then he grabbed his new turtleneck and pulled it over his head, making sure to roll the collar down properly. Sitting down on his bed, he pulled on a pair of black socks and looked around the room, not quite sure what to do.

Vegeta wanted to make an entrance, and knock the woman off her feet…but then again, she was probably thinking the same thing, so perhaps he could just play it casual…yes, casual would do just fine.

"Hey Vegeta!" Goku called cheerily as the Saiyan in question walked into the living room. A grunt was the reply, as well as a haughty nod to the others in the room. Bulma's mother smiled.

"Oh! Vegeta! You look so handsome!" she tittered, latching on to his arm and steering him toward the couch. "You know, if I weren't married!" Vegeta rolled his eyes and pulled away from the daydreaming woman, just as Daisuke came back in.

"Bulma and my mom are almost ready." He said, plopping down on the same couch as Vegeta. "Which means they'll be down in an hour or two."

"That's not very nice!" Bulma's voice sounded from the doorway, and everyone turned to see her and Fujiko, clad in their expensive new dresses. Vegeta smirked…the woman, she looked wonderful. But then again, he hadn't expected anything else.

Bulma's eyes couldn't help but to trail up and down Vegeta's form as he stood up. The coloring of his sweater set off his skin tone, but made his eyes and hair seem darker, more foreboding. Dangerous…just as she liked it.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare all day Woman," Vegeta teased, "Or are you going to move so that we can all go eat?"

"You shouldn't talk, mister. I saw you checking me out!" she laughed, and he snorted in response.

The atmosphere around the table was cheery, yet tense. Everyone was enjoying themselves, aside from Yamcha, who didn't like how friendly Vegeta was getting with Bulma. The fact that they had broken up didn't bother him so much as the fact that his ex girlfriend was openly flirting with the Saiyan no Ouji, the man who had come to Chikyuu only a few years ago, with the intent of destroying it.

Yamcha was not the only one to notice the change in their attitudes though, Goku was beaming, along with Daisuke. Chi Chi, however, had a slight scowl on her face as she watched her best friend bat long eyelashes at the man who had tried to kill her husband and son.

"Oh why don't you two just get a room already!" Yamcha growled as he watched Vegeta's hand discreetly brush Bulma's.

"Huh?"

"Don't you even have the decency, Bulma, to wait a while after we broke up before jumping the murderer?"

"Excuse me? Yamcha, what the hell have you got up your ass?" Bulma stood, angrily pushing her chair back.

"I could ask you the same question, but I'm not so sure I want to know the answer!" The Human man stood as well, slamming his hands on the table, causing all the glasses and silverware to jump.

"How dare you! I invite you to my home for Thanksgiving dinner, and you have the gall to insult me?" Master Roshi, Krillin, and Oolong sank low in their chairs as Bulma's voice rose. Goku's head volleyed worriedly back and forth between the two ex lovers, as they fought.

"Sit down, both of you!" Chi Chi yelled suddenly. "Yamcha, Bulma can date who she wants, even if I don't like the idea of you dating Vegeta. But Bulma, you shouldn't be so eager to jump all over him right after you and Yamcha broke up. Now, who wants to give thanks first?"

Bulma's jaw tensed up as she looked at Chi Chi. She was absolutely livid. "I cannot believe you people!" She screamed, sending glares all around the table. "I go to all the trouble of having this big Thanksgiving dinner, and you all come to my house to insult me!"

"Bulma, please…" Goku tried to calm her.

"Shut up! You all think you can trample all over me, eh? Well I've got news for you, you bunch of…"

"I'm thankful for my life." Vegeta spoke up, cutting off Bulma's tirade. "I'm thankful that I was given a second chance in this cosmic game we call existence. I'm thankful that I've finally found some sort of meaning…a purpose for my being here." He locked eyes with Bulma for a brief moment. "I'm thankful that I can find peace now, that I no longer have to be…the cause of pain and suffering. I'm thankful for everything I have…a home, people who don't despise me…I may not show it…but I am…and at this moment, I'm most thankful for this huge table of food, because I am damn starving, so let's eat!"

He speared a slab of turkey with his fork, and at that moment, chaos broke out, everyone reaching for this and that, filling up their plates before the Saiyans, particularly Goku, at everything in sight.

***

"Hey Vegeta." Bulma sat down on the porch steps next to him. It was night, and everyone else had gone home. "Thanks for stopping me…at dinner…that could have been a real disaster." She smiled sheepishly.

"No problem." He smirked, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her a bit closer. He leant down, gently pressing his lips to hers, as she snuggled closer against him. He smiled slightly, looking up toward the stars as she rested her head on his shoulder.

I'm thankful to have finally found my faln'ro.

Okay! Just a few little quick notes! That shopping scene, actually happened to me! Based on a true story! And Vegeta in a turtleneck! Some of you may think that turtlenecks on guys look 'gay' but well, I happen to think that turtleneck sweaters look excellent on muscular guys…*drools over hot, turtleneck wearing, football playing high school senior that was hitting on her the other day* Eh heh heh…sorry…

Oh, and about that Great Gatsby quote in the second paragraph, we just finished studying that novel, and that quote just sort of stuck in my head…so I used it. But it fits, don't you think?

Now please REVIEW! Because I worked very hard on this! I typed straight from like 11:00 AM till 3:30 PM just to finish this on time!!! I was having some writer's block problems…

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Please? For me?