Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yamcha & Vegeta ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

By: SSLetta

Pairings: Yamcha X Vegeta

Notes: This is my first yaoi (I always just read it before), so there shouldn't be anything too graphic. `Denotes thought.'

Rating: R, for the friendly men situation, if you catch my drift. A certain friend of mine wouldn't *couchLordesscough*

Y&V

Yamcha and Bulma had been broken up for three weeks now, but he still came around to check up on her. He didn't trust the leering gaze of the saiyan prince, or the man himself, and that's the main reason why he came everyday. He didn't think that he could actually do anything to hurt the man if it came right down to it, but if he could at least provide some kind of distraction, that was all that counted.

Bulma and him had mutually agreed to call it quits, both realizing it had lost its zest and was going nowhere, so they decided to see other people. They had remained friends, probably because of the nature in which they had broken up. They didn't drag it out, and they didn't fight about it. They simply recognized that they had grown apart as a couple, so they sat down and talked it over, ending up as just friends. No one got hurt, and everyone walked away fairly satisfied.

"Bulma? Hey Bulma, you here?" Yamcha called out, but didn't get an answer. He stepped completely inside, instead of just poking his head in, and slid the glass door shut behind him. The hallway was brightly lit from the midday sun pouring in from the skylight above, and Yamcha knew he'd have to be careful in case the resident saiyan decided to actually take a break from training and eat lunch. He continued to search for Bulma as he made his way to her lab, figuring that's where she probably was. He doubted she would get up and stretch from her latest project, but on the off chance that she did, he peered into the open doors as he passed them. Then he peered into a room with plants lined up at the windows and an older, blonde woman watering them. She turned around when she heard Yamcha, and smiled brightly. Mrs. Briefs was one of the nicest people that Yamcha knew.

"She's in her lab, Yamcha," the blonde woman said sweetly, her blue eyes squinted as she smiled up at him.

"Thanks Mrs. Briefs."

"No problem, dear. Do you want something to eat? I can just whip something up right now."

"No, I had a late breakfast, but thanks anyway."

"Well you just let me know if you get hungry." Yamcha smiled and nodded to her, and went straight to Bulma's lab. When he got to the steel door, he pushed one of two buttons that were nearly level with his chin. It sounded a buzzer inside the lab, so that whoever was working in there would know that someone was waiting outside.

"This is Bulma," a voice shot out of a speaker above his head. He pressed the other button next to the first that he had pushed and spoke into the door.

"Hey Bulma, it's me." A tiny microphone picked up his voice and relayed it to the com system beyond the steel barrier.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know a Mr. Me. Could I get another name with that?"

"Am I speaking to the genius Bulma or the moron Bulma?"

"If you're going to start name-calling, you can just leave," she said as she pushed on a remote to unlock the door. It swung open mechanically, and Yamcha walked inside the rather spacious lab. He looked at the blue-haired beauty that was bent over something that Yamcha didn't recognize. She had goggles pulled over her eyes and sparks periodically flew from the touch of her machines to the metal beneath.

"Busy?"

"That's kind of a stupid question." She didn't even look up as she said it. She pressed her tools to her project a few more times, then pushed it away to admire.

"What's that?"

"It's sort of like the brain of this new matter ray I'm building. If I do it right, I should be able to manipulate certain particles of matter and change them into something else. Like turning an apple into an orange." She explained this as she showed it to him, as if that would help him understand it any better.

"Why not just go out and buy an orange instead of an apple. I think it'd probably be easier."

"Tell me that when I buy a Volvo and turn it into a Porsche."

"Right. So how are things going?"

"Fine, until I was interrupted."

"Sorry! I guess I'll just leave," he pretended to pout.

"Go ahead, it just means that I'm that much closer to my new Porsche."

"Were we going to have lunch today, or not?"

"Sure, but can it wait an hour or two?"

"Yeah." By this time, Yamcha knew how pointless it was to tear the woman away from the middle of something. She could never focus on anything else for long, her attention always wavering back to whatever she was working on. Yamcha said a quick goodbye and left the laboratory in mock dejection. He wasn't that let down, because he did have a late breakfast and wasn't very hungry, but they had agreed to lunch about a week ago, so he wasn't going to use that as an excuse.

He ventured out into the hallway once again, and about five feet after he passed the kitchen, he suddenly found himself plastered against the wall and staring into a pair of intense onyx eyes. Yamcha felt his heart beat against his ribcage as the saiyan prince scowled at him. The other man said nothing; he just stared at Yamcha with a look he couldn't quite place. Yamcha became vaguely aware that he was under intense scrutiny and squirmed under the gaze of the prince. Vegeta grabbed his shoulders, pinning him against the wall, and hindering his movements. Then, as if it had a mind of its own, one of Vegeta's hands drifted slowly up Yamcha's neck, and white finger extended to brush along his jaw line. Suddenly, like he was snapped back to reality, the prince snatched his hand back, and emitted a low growl. The next instant, Yamcha was staring into thin air, the saiyan moving too fast for him to even see when he left.

"Weird." Yamcha said to himself when his brain finally started working again and he registered what had just happened. He walked out of Capsule Corp. slowly, thinking about the saiyan prince and trying to figure out why he was pinned up against the wall like that, and that unnerving look in the man's eyes. The question sort of nagged at him the whole time he was flying home, not even bothering to take his car, thinking that he could just get it after lunch with Bulma.

When he landed on the balcony of his apartment, he had cleared the questions from his mind, deciding to forget them, and what happened. For the next two hours, he flipped through the channels on his television, not stopping for long on any one show. He had never cared for daytime television, but sometimes he amused himself by stopping on one show, letting the character say a line, and flipping to another quickly. It wasn't the best use of time, and he knew he could be training for the androids, but between Jack being pregnant with his brother's baby and Melanie being blackmailed by a four-legged naked man, he figured that this was good enough. When the two hours had finally passed, he pushed himself up from his couch, and headed back out via the window.

Landing on the lawn of Capsule Corp., Yamcha could feel the prince training back in the gravity room, actually, he had felt it for quite some time. It wasn't hard to miss. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked towards the huge building before him, absently wondering how training in increased gravity would be. It would definitely help to build up his power faster than it had been. Maybe, in her free time, Bulma could build him one as well; it would probably motivate him to train more and harder if she went through all the hard work to build it. He would help wherever he could, and it would give him something to do.

Again, he entered through the sliding glass doors and went down through the hallway, but instead of heading to the lab, he went towards the living room, where he saw Bulma getting ready, a purse hanging by a strap secured in her teeth, and slipping on some shoes and struggling with a jacket at the same time. She was having trouble, because she got her left arm caught and couldn't shove it through the sleeve, and she nearly fell over trying to get the shoes on. She never bothered to undo the laces, but she had apparently, recently tied one, and it was now too tight for her to just wiggle into. Yamcha tried as hard as he could to stifle his laughter, but to no avail, and when Bulma shot her head up to glare at him, her struggle with the shoe made her foot slide the wrong way, and she fell. This caused Yamcha to break out into loud, uncontrolled laughter, and Bulma to glare and turn beat red at the same time.

"Why can't you do each thing separately?"

"I'm in a hurry, I have a lunch date with a friend. However, since I don't see any of my friends at the moment, I guess I have a little more time," she said through gritted teeth. Yamcha still had to hold back his laughter as he walked over to help her up, extending an open palm to her. She gripped it tightly, and Yamcha hauled her up with ease, making sure she was okay. This time, she leaned on him as she finished her little ritual, relying on him to catch her if she started to fall. When she was finished, she smoothed her t-shirt sporting her name, and her designer jeans, clutched her purse protectively under her arm, and made sure her jacket wasn't crumpled.

"My car or yours?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter to me."

"Al right, mine. Let me go grab my keys." She ran off to her lab to grab them. A few seconds later, a powerful ki slammed Yamcha's senses. He whipped around to see the saiyan prince standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. The man stared at him from across the room, a typical scowl adorning his face that suddenly turned into a smirk. This made Yamcha a little unnerved, but he stalked towards Vegeta regardless, with curiosity ebbing at his mind. Why wouldn't he be training? When Yamcha reached him, they stood about four feet apart, neither man making a move, silently staring at each other. Just as Vegeta parted his lips to speak, Bulma rushed in, keys in hand.

"Oh, hi Vegeta," she said as she walked past, grabbing Yamcha's arm and dragging him with her, "C'mon Yamcha, I'm hungry!" Yamcha nodded, shot Vegeta one last look and left through the door. Part of him didn't want to go, but the other part wanted to get away from the psychotic man and fill his stomach. He was hungry, too.