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A Losing Battle	By : BlazeEBlake_TD Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 2121 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z nor do I own any of the characters. I make no money whatsoever by writing this story.

Chapter List
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Bulma beamed up at the sky, watching her son’s time machine fade and disappear. It was strange, missing him when just behind her, her mother held a tiny version of him, her version, in her arms. As if reading her mind, the infant began loudly fussing , pulling her attention back to him and the present.

“I bet you’re hungry huh little guy?” she cooed, turning to face her son, “Don’t worry, mama will get you something in just a sec.”

“I can take care of him sweetie!” her mother chirped, “You should spend some time with your friends and that handsome Vegeta.” Bulma glanced over at the Saiyan leaning against a tree, far apart from the others. As usual, he didn’t look much in the mood for company or conversation. Shaking her head, Bulma walked in the opposite direction, toward someone she knew would appreciate her attention. Gohan stood ahead of the others, his eyes still fixed skyward and a faint smile on his face.

“I miss him already.” she said, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Me too,” he said, finally turning his gaze to her, “But, he’s not really gone. Not all the way. Just now I felt him, I know I did.”

“Sounds like Goku alright. Hey, let me know if you or your mom need anything ok? I’m here for you guys if you need me.”

“Thanks Bulma. I think she just needs some time. I mean, dad being gone again was hard enough, and on top of that she’s been sick all morning.”

“Should I send one of our doctors over? We have tons of ‘em here at Capsule Corp.”

“No, I think it’s probably just nerves. But now that I mention it, I should probably head home, make sure she’s ok.”

“Alright, but like I said, if you guys need anything-”

“We’ll let you know.” He smiled at her, lifted into the air, and flew off.

One by one, the other Z-Fighters began to take their leave as well and Bulma soon found herself alone in the yard. She began to head back inside the compound when she noticed that Vegeta had not gone off like the others. He remained leaning against the tree at the far end of the compound, eyes closed. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he was sleeping. Against her better judgement, she squared her shoulders and walked over to him.

“Vegeta?” she called out softly.

“Hnn.” he grunted, eyes still closed.

“Do-do you wanna come inside?” No answer this time.

“Look,” she continued, “I know you don’t really have a place to go, so you’re welcome to stay here...” She was immediately reminded of their first conversation on Earth, when she had offered both him and the Namekians a place to stay following Freeza’s defeat. And just like last time, she wasn’t certain of what the Saiyan prince would do. When he remained silent once more, Bulma rolled her eyes and turned back toward the house.

“Offer’s on the table,” she called over her shoulder, “Oh, and if you want to leave again, make sure you ask for a ship this time, instead of stealing one… Jerk.” She mumbled the last word under her breath, knowing full well he probably heard her. Part of her had said it out of frustration, but another part had hoped to get a rise out of him, to trigger something beyond the quiet stoicism he had displayed since Cell’s defeat. Yamcha and Mirai-Trunks had given her the short version of what had transpired at the sick tournament Cell had put them through, and no one had been more surprised than her to learn that Vegeta had flown into a blind rage after his son had been struck down. Once the battle was over, he had returned to the compound and retreated to his room. Today was the first time she had seen him since then. Truly, she hadn’t expected him to come out at all. But when she stepped out onto the lawn to see her son off, there he was, watching like the rest. Between seeing his son killed and the death of his rival, something had changed in Vegeta. She just wasn’t sure of what.

Once inside, she headed into the kitchen. She expected to find her mother there, alternately feeding and spoiling her child, but the room was empty. She could only assume that Trunks had been fed and was now being put down for a overdue nap. Shrugging, she opened the fridge and peered inside. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she could manage a few simple things when she had to. Thankfully, there were a few leftovers sitting right at the front of the machine’s well stocked shelves. Grabbing a couple of containers, she stood up and shut the door, only to find Vegeta standing beside her. Startled, she jumped back and nearly dropped the boxes she had carefully balanced in her arms.

“Damn it!” she cried, scowling up at him, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” The ghost of a smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth and then disappeared, his face once again becoming unreadable.

“Well?” Bulma asked, “Can I help you?”

“Looks like you’re the one in need of help,” he replied gruffly, “Jumping out of your skin and nearly wasting all of that food for no good reason.”

“Hmph.” She turned her back to him and began working at warming up her food.

“I will stay,” he said finally, “To see to my son’s upbringing.”

“Our son,” she corrected, “And I suppose you’ll also want to eat up MY food and use MY gravity room while you wait around to pick a fight with someone else.”

“Kakarot is gone… I will never fight again.” Bulma turned, eyes wide with surprise.

“Never?” she exclaimed, “Really?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” he said roughly.

“It’s just, since I’ve known you fighting’s all you cared about. Before the androids showed up you nearly killed yourself just to get stronger. You’re really just gonna quit?” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. She had an urge to reach out to him but thought better of it. Before the androids, the nights they shared together were ones born of loneliness and reckless passion; the first time had been a surprise to them both. But once Trunks was conceived, they had drifted apart to the point where she had scarcely seen him at all. Not that she’d gone looking for him; she’d told herself over and over again that what they had was fleeting and physical. But perhaps she hadn't been entirely truthful when it came to her heart. She couldn’t deny the fact that she had been happy to see he had survived the fight against Cell, that a part of her had been relieved to see him return to her home in one piece. And now, seeing him this way, clearly conflicted and perhaps even wounded, she felt a strange stirring inside of her. This felt different from the heat that had roiled in her stomach when she’d let him take her all those months ago. This felt like…

“What are you staring at woman?” he grumbled, breaking through her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking herself gently, “Sorry. Anyway, seems like a shame to let the GR go to waste. You’re the only one who had any use for it and now-”

“Who said I wouldn’t be using the Gravity Chamber?” he interrupted, raising one of his thick eyebrows.

“Well, you said you were done fighting, so I just assumed…”

“I won’t allow myself to get soft in times of peace, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That sounds more like it. Hey are-are you hungry?” He didn’t respond, but instead sat at the small table in the center of the room, arms still crossed against his well-sculpted chest. She nodded and turned back to the food.

“Make it snappy woman,” he said suddenly, “I’ve got much better things to do than wait for a meal to be prepared.”

“Keep that up and you can fix it yourself, you highness!” she shot back. She heard him grunt and then there was silence. Admittedly she had missed that too: the verbal sparring between them. Afterall, no one fought quite like Vegeta and she was more than capable of holding her own in an argument.

“I’m glad you made it back,” she said softly.

* * * * * * *

Vegeta stood in the center of the gravity room, pieces of training drones scattered about his feet. After he had eaten all the woman had to offer, he had set about resuming his training. He had put all of his frustrations, all of his disappointments and anger into this session and it still hadn’t been enough. Just like it hadn’t been enough against the androids or Cell. His shoulders slumped and he staggered against the increased gravity as he walked to the room’s control panel. He shut off the machine and and slumped against the wall, waiting to catch his breath. Once his panting had ceased, he exited the chamber and headed up to his room to shower. As the hot water streamed down his face and body, he struggled to put all thoughts of the battle and his fallen rival out of his mind. But try as he might, it all still haunted him; his defeat at the hands of that creature, being bested by not just Kakarot, but the man’s half-Saiyan brat, losing the only remaining member of his race and the only being who he had yet to prove himself against. It was all too much.” He slammed his fist into the wall with a snarl, sending a line of cracks through its tile. He shut of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and exited into his room. Just as he had finished drying himself off and thrown on another pair of shorts, he heard a faint cry coming from down the hall.

‘Trunks’ he thought. Before he knew what he was doing he shot out of his bedroom and burst into the small nursery the woman and her parents had set up. Night had fallen while he was showering and the room was dark except for a the faint glow of the moon coming through room’s sole window. Peering into the tiny crib, he found himself staring into his son’s wide blue eyes, wet with the beginnings of tears. He glanced over the child and, finding no apparent injury or reason for his upset, scoffed.

“None of that,” he cautioned the child brusquely, “No son of mine will lay here blubbering over nothing.” The infant continued to stare up at him curiously. After a few moments, his face cracked into a smile and he reached up toward his father, clenching and unclenching his tiny fists. Gingerly, Vegeta held a finger out to his son. Trunks latched onto his father’s outstretched hand and tugged at him, as if trying to pull him closer, and the elder Saiyan’s face softened.

His son. He had never wanted a child and when the woman had announced her pregnancy to him he had balked at the very idea of fathering the half-breed. Now, as much as it pained him to admit, he found himself invested in the child’s survival. Unbidden, the memory of the android’s attack on the woman’s aircraft came to mind and, not for the first time today, he felt shame rise within him. He hadn’t cared then, hadn’t for one moment thought about his child’s safety. From now on, things would be different.

“He’s got a pretty strong grip already,” a voice said behind him. Vegeta quickly turned from his son’s crib and saw the woman leaning against the door.

“I-I heard him cry out,” Vegeta said, pulling his hand from Trunks grasp. The boy yowled in protest.

“He does that.” Bulma quipped, walking up to the cradle and picking up her son, “He probably just wanted a little attention.” Vegeta watched out of the corner of his eye as she checked his diaper and then gently rocked the child. Within a few moments the infant’s eyelids slid shut and his head fell against his mother’s shoulder. She laid him back down gently and flashed Vegeta a smile.

“He’s usually a handful at bedtime but I guess we managed to wear him down enough today,” she said, “It was nice of you to check on him…” He said nothing in return, choosing simply to stare down at his son for a few beats more before moving to leave.

“Vegeta.” she called after him softly, “They told me about what happened. After Cell… Killed our son.” He paused in his retreat, keeping his back to her.

“That can’t have been easy, seeing something like that,” she continued, “Is that why you stayed? To be here for Trunks and make sure nothing like that-?”

“He is my son,” Vegeta replied, “And on my honor, I will protect him… With my life if I have to.” Suddenly he felt her hand on his arm.

“That means a lot Vegeta,” she said, coming to stand before him, “Really.” It had been many months since they had physically been this close to one another. Her familiar scent filled his nostrils, leaving him with a heady, intoxicated feeling he knew all too well. He had almost forgotten she could make him feel this way. Before, when he had been training for battle, it had been something he railed against; an unwelcome distraction in his quest to become the legendary Super Saiyan and surpass Kakarot, a physical weakness he hated himself for giving into. But now he welcomed the distraction she could provide, a temporary reprieve from his chaotic thoughts and the frustrations he had been unable to release in his training that day. For a few moments they stood staring at one another, blue and onyx eyes fixed and questioning. Neither could say who moved first, but all at once her arms were around his neck, his hands at her hips, and their mouths crashed together violently. The kiss deepened and he ran his tongue across her soft lips, demanding entry. She obliged with a gentle moan, allowing him to explore her fully. As quickly as he had arrived in the nursery, Vegeta fled it, racing back to his room with the woman in his arms. They fell on to his bed in a tangle, desperately pressing against one another. He rolled on top of her and tore off the flimsy shirt she wore, revealing her round, full breasts. He lowered his mouth to the left one and cupped the other, alternately running his tongue and calloused thumb over her sensitive nipples. She arched into his touch, biting her bottom lip and closing her eyes as she tried and failed to suppress another moan. Slowly, he removed his hand from her breast and trailed it down her body to the waistband of her underwear. He tore these off as well, the fabric giving way with a satisfying ripping sound, and moved his hand down further. She gasped as he slid two fingers into her, stroking her from the inside whilst simultaneously massaging the silky bud just above her opening.

“Yes!” She groaned, “Just like that! Don’t stop!”

He ceased his ministrations abruptly and brought his lips to her ear.

“Beg me,” he whispered harshly, a cruel smirk playing about his lips. Her eyes snapped open and she stared back at him defiantly. Then, with a wicked grin of her own, she ran her left hand across his chiseled abdomen, reached down his shorts, and took hold of his rock hard erection. He let out a muted growl as she ran her fingers up and down the length of him torturously. She turned her head and he could feel her hot breath against his own ear.

“You first prince,” she whispered. He snarled as he removed his fingers from her and pulled off his shorts, releasing his substantial arousal. He grabbed her hand and pinned it to the mattress.

“No more games,” he said throatily, positioning himself between her legs. Before she could nod her assent he plunged into her slick core, eliciting deep moan. She wrapped her legs around him, locking her feet behind his well-muscled back as he thrust in and out of her.

“Vegeta!” She called out breathily. He increased his speed, plowing into her with as much force as he thought she could stand. She bucked her hips vigorously in return, digging the nails of her free hand into his buttock as she savored every inch of him. He could feel her walls tightening around him, growing closer and closer to the edge, and he fought to maintain his control. Before long, her rhythm became chaotic, her moans growing louder and more frequent. She squeezed her eyes closed and gave a final cry.

“Vegeta!” She screamed, shivering in climax. In the throes of her orgasm, one of her heels grazed the tender spot where his tail had once been. With a near roar he gave into his release and fell against her. They lay there for a few moments, fighting to catch their breath, and then he rolled off of her and onto his back. She twisted onto her side, threw an arm across his chest and nestled into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh. He gazed down at her, a slight frown forming on his lips. He was quite sure he would never understand her. Though he had no desire to define their arrangement, for the longest time he was certain that their encounters had sprung up from a mutual need to satiate the unwanted lust that had somehow formed between them, nothing more. But, from time to time, even he couldn't ignore her prolonged glances, the worry that furrowed her brow when he left for battle. He had promised her nothing, shown no affection beyond their passionate entanglements, but there was no mistaking the concern in her eyes when they had stood in their son’s room. Somehow, inexplicably, she cared for him. For his part, he had no designs on altering the nature of their relationship. He had no interest beyond the physical. And yet… Tonight had been different. He hadn't sought her out to relieve his unbidden arousal, but instead had felt a true need for her touch, had desired the soothing effect it had upon him. Now, as she lay against him, he felt a strange calm, one he had not been able to achieve in the days following the Cell games. He cursed himself silently for these thoughts, disgusted by the very notion that he, prince of all Saiyans, could feel for this Earth woman in any way. He was about to extricate himself from her hold when she shifted and began mumbling.

“Please,” she said almost drunkenly, “Don't leave us again Vegeta.” He opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he realized she was asleep and that her mutterings were likely in response to a dream.

Don't leave us again.

It occurred to him then that, as mother of his child, she was his to protect as well. Turning his gaze from her, he resolved that he could do that much for her, but that anything further was out of the question. He felt his eyelids begin to droop and let sleep begin to overtake him. Without thinking, he curled the arm trapped beneath the woman around her waist and drew her closer, drifting off into the first peaceful rest he had found in some time.
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A Losing Battle