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Friends	By : ladyvegeets Category: Dragon Ball Z > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2134 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own DBZ or the characters - they belong to Akira Toriyama, Funimation and Toei Animation as far as I know. No profit is being made from this fic.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Holy sh*t guys, I have fanart ^_^ - checkout GalacticShark17 on twitter for an awesome picture of a beat-up Vegeta inspired by this story. I’ve been promised color and bruises in a few days time!
Link for the lazy: [Http (colon)(2 forward slashes) tinyurl (dot) com(forward slash) ztu3q72 ]
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Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets
Ch.12 - Warned

Time passed, and Bulma and Vegeta fell into a comfortable routine. Vegeta continued to walk Bulma to and from school each day, keeping an eye out for any strange activity, but the dark tinted car didn’t return, just as he predicted. On their walks, Bulma kept things friendly, speaking and joking with Vegeta while he occasionally grunted, or if he was in a good mood, made some snarky reply.
At school during lunch period, the whole gang would dine together; Vegeta mostly kept to himself, but now and then someone would included him in the conversation, or he would interject a comment, usually an insult, but the fact of the matter was he was slowly becoming a part of their crew. Yamcha was even eating with them again, and though he looked disgusted with Vegeta’s presence and pained by Bulma’s, he mostly ignored them, talking with Goku and the others.
At home, Vegeta mostly kept to himself, working out and studying, leaing Bulma to look forward to nights after practice when she and Vegeta would have their study sessions for their school project. Vegeta didn’t talk much, but Bulma made up for it, speaking about whatever came to mind, and if Vegeta didn’t engage with her directly, he also didn’t tell her to shut up. She could see he was listening by the way he’d glance at her when as she paused mid sentence, or the sneers or smiles he would make at her anecdotes. She found it pleasant to be in his company, even if they couldn’t cuddle or make out, and so Bulma didn’t push him. If Vegeta wasn’t comfortable disobeying his father yet, then she had to respect that; she didn’t want Vegeta to resent her, and it gave her time to wrap her mind around her own feelings. Everything had happened so fast since Vegeta’s arrival and her break up with Yamcha, so it was nice to finally have some time to breathe and think about what she really wanted. And the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to get to know Vegeta more, and to try and recapture that special moment they’d shared when he’d kissed her breathless in her room and stayed the night, in spite of the punishment he knew he’d receive for breaking his curfew.
But patience was the key word. All good things come to those who wait.
Bulma had started choosing outfits that, while cute, were a little less revealing so as not to incite any further lapses of self-control such as what had happened with her infamous blue tube-top. If Vegeta noticed her fashion efforts, he made no comment one way or another. Bulma also refrained from making any sexual comments or advances, and while she congratulated herself for her efforts, she still found herself staring at him as they studied together, or walking closer to him than was necessary when they went to school together. Vegeta never called her out for it, and Bulma didn’t know whether to be thankful or frustrated for his silence.
That’s how the days passed for them, the two content to just to be friends, for a while.
In their next PE class, Bulma and Chi-Chi were put in charge of picking teams. Chi-Chi’s first choice was Goku, naturally, but to the class’s surprise, Bulma’s first pick was Vegeta, despite his unfavorable reputation and broken arm. The whispers started immediately, but Vegeta looked unfazed, going to stand behind Bulma like a silent guardian while she picked the rest of her team. She very decidedly didn’t pick Yamcha. The class went smoothly, and Vegeta proved his worth by scoring the most on their team, although he didn’t win any fans, his sportsmanship poor, choosing to win through brute force rather than engage in any team work. Bulma was amused, but she caught sight of Yamcha, glaring at Vegeta in disgust.
After class, as Bulma was leaving the changing rooms, she heard a familiar voice. “Hey, got a minute?”
She turned and saw Yamcha standing there, his hands pushed into his pockets bashfully. Bulma felt a rush of emotions at seeing him before her, sorrow, annoyance, betrayal… their break up was still fresh in her mind, but the feelings that rose up were brief, and she was able to let them go just as easily. She’d made her peace with the end of their relationship weeks ago.
She nodded at Yamcha, putting a friendly smile on her face. “Sure, Yamcha. What’s up?”
Yamcha indicated they step to the side of the hallway. He cleared his throat nervously, then scratched the back of his head. “Look, Bulma, um… You can stop trying to make me jealous by hanging out with Vegeta now.”
Bulma blinked, taking a minute to process what he was saying. “…What?”
Yamcha’s eyes darted to hers, then away, and he scuffed his foot on the linoleum floor. “I get it, okay? You’re mad that I cheated, and you want to rub it in my face. And I totally deserve that after how I betrayed you. But if you’re going to make me jealous, please do it with someone else, anyone else, just not him, alright?”
“What?” Bulma repeated again, totally dumbfounded.
Yamcha continued as if he hadn’t heard her, his brows knitted in frustration, working himself up. “You’ve proved your point, okay? But enough is enough. I don’t trust that guy. Vegeta’s shady, and violent. Pretty much any other guy at this school is better boyfriend material than Vegeta, I’m begging you.”
Bulma could feel her eyebrows rise higher and higher as Yamcha rambled on. She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Yamcha…. Do you think I’m dating Vegeta?” she asked, amazed that he would think so. If only they were dating, she could barely get Vegeta to speak a sentence to her, let alone date her.
Yamcha quirked a brow. “You’re not? Well, it sure seems that way, with how you two are always together, and now you’re picking him first in gym over your friends.”
Bulma frowned. “I’m not picking him over my friends. Vegeta is my friend. Besides, I’m always around Goku, does that mean we’re dating?”
Yamcha gave her a condescending look. “You know that’s not the same. Besides, Goku isn’t some shady, single guy living with you. Ugh, just the thought of what that creep could be doing at your house, in your room, when you’re asleep or in the shower…” Yamcha growled, clenching a fist.
Bulma felt her cheeks color at Yamcha’s implications. “You have no right to be thinking about anything that’s going on at my house, Yamcha. You lost those privileges. And Vegeta has been a perfect gentleman,” mostly, she added to herself, if stuck up, surly and indifferent can be considered gentlemanly. “He hardly even acknowledges that I exist… Not that it’s any of your business.”
Yamcha looked sulky. “I’m just worried about you-”
“Well stop,” she cut him off huffily. “I’m no longer yours to worry about.”
“Bulma,” Yamcha sighed, pushing a hand through his hair in frustration. “Would you just consider what I’m saying, okay? You’re just latching onto Vegeta to spite me, maybe not consciously, but you are, and I think you’re putting yourself in a lot of danger because of it. I mean, there was already that incident with you and the car. Are you telling me that had nothing to do with Vegeta?”
Bulma balked, then quickly composed herself. She couldn’t think of an answer to give Yamcha without proving his point, and she hated that. She thinned her mouth unhappily, clenching a fist on her hip and poking Yamcha in the chest with her other hand. When in doubt, deflect. “You know what, Yamcha? For someone claiming not to be jealous, you sound awfully like a jealous ex. For the last time, what I do, who I see, and what the consequences might be is none of your business anymore, or did you forget we broke up?”
“Bulma, I’m… I’m still your friend, aren’t I?” Yamcha asked, sounding hurt.
Bulma looked at his kicked-puppy expression and felt her anger fizzle out. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Well… of course, Yamcha.”
Yamcha gave her a weak smile which she feebly returned. He reached out, pulling her in for a hug that she hesitantly accepted, letting him squeeze her and rub her back. “I’m so glad! So, you’ll stop seeing Vegeta?” he asked hopefully.
Bulma stiffened in his arms. She shoved her hands against Yamcha’s chest, pushing him away. “Seriously?” she shouted, feeling her temper drastically spike. “Damnit, Yamcha, you’re so completely dense! Did you not hear anything I just said? You don’t get to tell me who I see.”
“But-“
“No buts! If I want to see Vegeta, I will. If I want to date him, or fuck him, I will, and that’s that. In fact, I think I’ll go fuck him right now! Is that what you want to hear, that we’ve been fucking? Well congratulations, we’ve been having loads of sex. Buckets of it. He’s pleasured me in ways I could never have dreamed of. There, are you happy now, does that make you feel better?” She shouted at him, exasperated.
Yamcha looked appalled, but Bulma’s attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. Her eyes darted past Yamcha, across the hall to where Vegeta was standing with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, watching them squabble with a raised brow.
Bulma felt her face flare up red in embarrassment. Yamcha followed her gaze and saw Vegeta; his expression darkened, his shoulders tensing.
Vegeta slowly walked over to them. Bulma looked away, humiliated to think he’d heard her vulgar tirade. “Are you coming to lunch?” Vegeta asked her neutrally, completely ignoring Yamcha.
Bulma looked up at him, raising a brow. Vegeta had never asked her to lunch before. In fact, he’d rarely asked her anywhere, or deliberately sought out her company. Vegeta had just… put up with her. She wondered if this was his way of rescuing her from her conversation with Yamcha. “Um, yes,” she replied, her voice stiff, grateful to get out of her argument with her ex.
Vegeta grunted and headed off, and she started to follow.
“Bulma-” Yamcha protested. She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. Yamcha was staring at her, his expression hopeless and gut wrenching to see.
Vegeta stopped. He reached out and took Bulma’s hand. “Come on. You’re done here,” he said firmly.
Surprised, Bulma turned her head to meet Vegeta’s eyes. They were dark and captivating, their depths sucking her in, making her forget all about Yamcha. She felt hypnotized by their intensity, and she nodded, helpless. Bulma followed after Vegeta, feeling her heart in her throat as he pulled her away by her hand. Damn the power he held over her.
She almost missed the glance back Vegeta made. She turned; Yamcha was fuming, glaring spitefully at Vegeta. Her eyes darted up and caught the vindictive smirk on Vegeta’s lips as he glanced away.
Vegeta was gloating.
When they were out of Yamcha’s line of sight, Bulma pulled her hand out of his. “What was that?” she asked.
“What was what?” he replied, his face once again carefully schooled into indifference.
“You were egging him on,” she accused, pointing a finger at his chest.
Vegeta shifted his weight, shoving his hand into his pocket, standing before her, cocksure. “So what if I was?”
Bulma pursed her lips. “Are you trying to start a fight?”
Vegeta smirked. “It’d hardly be worthy of being called a fight if he tried. Your ex is a weakling and what’s more, he’s clearly not over you. You’re too soft on him. You need to cut him off or he’ll keep clinging to hope that you’ll forgive him.”
Bulma’s eyes bulged. She couldn’t believe she was getting dating advice from Vegeta. Like he had any right when his own romantic methods seemed to involve a big fat serving of denial. It ticked her off, and she wanted to return the feeling. Bulma stuck up her nose. “Who said I wouldn’t forgive him?”
Vegeta sneered, not taking the bait. “You’re not that dumb. Your ex is filth. He walked all over your relationship with that slut, and who knows how many other girls. That doesn’t seem worthy of your forgiveness, or your time.”
Bulma arched a brow. “You’re warning me off Yamcha? That’s ironic, because he was just warning me off you, too, saying you were no good.”
Vegeta frowned, and his posture shifted subtly. His self assured stance closed in, his eyes darkening, his jaw clenching. She’d struck a nerve, but she couldn’t tell why, she only knew she instantly regretted what she’d said. When he spoke to her his tone was flat, detached. “I’m sure he did. After all, what the fuck would someone like me have to offer someone like you?”
“Vegeta-” she protested.
He cut her off. “Just shut up. Whatever he said, it doesn’t change the fact that he has proven himself to be weak and unworthy of you.” His words were cold, brimming with unspoken fury. She wasn’t prepared for so much vehemence. Was he angry at her, or for her?
She sighed, shaking her head, Vegeta’s thinking a total mystery to her. What happened to make both Yamcha and Vegeta think they could suddenly run her life for her? “I don’t understand you guys. You have such funny notions about telling women what to do when you don’t even know what to do with yourselves.”
“Tch.”
She looked at his irritated expression, bewildered by it. “Where is this even coming from, Vegeta?” she asked him, baffled that he suddenly cared so much about her relationship with Yamcha.
He glanced at her, his expression guarded, his eyes suspicious. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” she repeated, half laughing in exasperation. “You know, you’re doing a really great job of playing the boyfriend role, despite your protestations to the contrary. You came over and took my hand, ‘rescued’ me from my ex, lectured me about him… And you’re accusing me of giving Yamcha mixed messages? What am I supposed to do with what you’re giving me, huh?”
Vegeta scowled at her, a faint blush staining his cheeks as the implication of her words sunk in. “Don’t be an idiot,” he brushed her words off, refusing to acknowledge them. “If you’re too dense to take my advice, so be it. I’m going to lunch. You can come or not, it makes no difference to me.” He turned on his heel to leave.
Worried she’d pushed him too hard, expected too much from him too soon, Bulma reached out, grabbing his hand before he could walk off. He paused, looking down at their hands, then he glanced up at her, his expression vexed but he didn’t pull away.
Bulma gave him a small, hopeful smile. “Don’t be angry, please.”
“I’m not,” he scowled, his face belying his words.
Bulma gave him a skeptical look. “You look angry.”
He sneered. “Because I’m constantly surrounded by infuriating people.”
“Even me?” she pouted cutely.
“You’re the worst one of all,” he snapped back.
Bulma scowled. She let go of his hand, giving him a little shove. “Asshole. I’m the only person who’s ever nice to you.”
“Exactly!” he replied, exasperated. “It’s maddening.”
Bulma had nothing to say to that, bewildered by his comment and the expression on his face, as if her very existence confounded him. What went on in that head of his, she wondered, that he would be infuriated by her being nice? Sometimes it felt like she and Vegeta were speaking two different languages with each other, that they were from two different worlds, constantly at cultural odds.
She sighed, shaking her head. “Why am I cursed to suffer men like you in my life?” she said to the heavens. “I need to find a nice boy and stop courting arrogant asswipes.”
He looked at her, eyes narrowing, his head shifting to the side to take her in. “Suffer?” he asked scornfully.
She glared back at him, crossing her arms. “Yes. Suffer.”
He continued to consider her. Then, he smirked.
It felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her. Bulma damned him that he could have such a strong effect on her as she felt a hot, coiling shiver radiate from her belly in response to his cheshire grin.
Vegeta came towards her, a powerful, virile panther prowling his territory, having spotted a curiosity in need of sniffing out. Bulma’s heart rate accelerated wildly as he advanced on her, and against her will she stepped back. He backed her up against the corridor wall, propping his arm above her head and leaning in towards her. His smirk widened, the pull of his lips tugging on her lower belly, desire pooling in her lower regions.
“Bulma,” he said, and she quivered as he said her name in his low, bedroom voice. “You’re blushing.”
His words struck her, hard. He was right, of course, she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. She felt compelled to clamp her thighs together in defense. She glared at Vegeta spitefully for undoing her so easily, and worse, teasing her about it. “So?”
“You don’t look like you’re suffering to me,” he said, almost purring the words, relishing the way she squirmed beneath him. “I think you’re enjoying it.”
Bulma glared at him, her embarrassment fueling her anger. “I’m enjoying this? What about you? After all, this situation seems really familiar, let me think. Oh yes, it’s just like the time you kissed me in my bedroom against my will. It’s like you can’t keep away from me.”
His eyes narrowed at her, his smile dangerous. “Against whose will? As I recall, you were begging me to stay.”
Bulma blushed harder and looked away from him. Vegeta was making her uncomfortable, she didn’t know what game he was playing but she could feel herself losing. “Yet you didn’t,” she replied softly, half sulking.
He leaned in further, his breath ghosting the nape of her neck. She sucked in a short breath in response, hardly able to breathe, her body vibrating with tension. He purred his words against her ear. “Well, I can’t always be expected to pleasure you in ways you’ve never dreamed of.”
Bulma’s eyes widened, hearing the words she’d flung at Yamcha thrown back at her. Vegeta was teasing her, punishing her for what she’d said to her ex. She thinned her mouth stubbornly. “If that’s supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny,” she replied, her heart beating wildly in her chest at his nearness.
“Says you,” he countered, leaning back enough to look at her, his eyes dancing merrily.
“Yes, says me,” she snapped back, glaring at him. “Being snide and sarcastic isn’t the same as being funny, especially when it’s at the expense of my feelings that you so clearly don’t give a damn about.”
Vegeta’s smile disappeared, the spark in his eyes fading. He opened his mouth to say something, reconsidered, then pressed his mouth shut. He stepped back, letting her go. He stood before her awkwardly, a slight frown on his brow, his gaze clouded over, averted.
Bulma peeled off from the wall, more confused than ever. She should be the one upset right now, not him, but Vegeta looked as though he’d been slapped in the face. Bulma wondered if she would ever understand him. Neither of them spoke for several long seconds.
“…Let’s just go to lunch,” she finally suggested to break the awkward silence. He looked at her, and she looked back with a faint smile. “Your brownie isn’t going to eat itself, is it?”
Vegeta’s gaze was uncertain. He stared at her for a moment before his features smoothed out and his surly mask fell back into place, secreting away whatever he was feeling behind. He was once again his usual self. “Who says you get my brownie?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “I do, and I’m the genius here, so that makes me right,” she replied confidently. They were falling back into their comfortable roles, for better or for worse.
Vegeta scoffed at her comment but didn’t deny her. They headed to lunch together, and as she predicted, Vegeta handed her his dessert. Bulma noticed Yamcha glowering at her as she accepted it. She tried to ignore him, doing her best to play it casual, but inwardly she was swimming with new doubts. Vegeta’s warning played in her mind; was she leading Yamcha on by trying to remain friendly with him? And was she leading herself on about Vegeta, deluding herself about their relationship? What had all that in the hallway been about? Bulma was starting to feel like she was at a severe disadvantage; Vegeta held all the cards, leaving her to dangle on a string at his pleasure. She was even doubting if he felt the same way about her as she did him. What was she to him? An amusement? Forbidden fruit? An obligation? Bulma knew it hadn’t felt that way when they’d kissed, but that night when they’d broken through being ‘just friends’ to ‘something more’ was so long ago now, and she wondered if they could ever go back to that place. Bulma was full of doubts, and Vegeta was giving her conflicting messages that did little to lessen them.
Chi-Chi also didn’t help alleviate her fears when the two girls went shopping a few days later. “So what’s the deal with you and Vegeta?” Chi-Chi asked as they looked at clothes.
Bulma shrugged, hoping she wasn’t projecting her inner turmoil on her face. “We’re uh… um… Well, it’s a little complicated now that he’s living with us.”
Chi-Chi gave her a skeptical look. “Shouldn’t that make things easier?”
Bulma sighed, deflating. “Apparently Vegeta’s father told him to keep his hands to himself.”
Chi-Chi arched an brow, amused. “Vegeta doesn’t seem the type to listen to authority.”
Bulma nodded. “I know, but his father is something of an exception,” she said, frowning as she did so. Vegeta did seem more of the rebel type, but she’d also seen the respectful way he acted around her parents, and he was cordial to a fault around his own father, from what little interaction she had seen at the hospital. “It could be his military upbringing,” Bulma guessed.
Chi-Chi looked surprised. “Vegeta’s had military training?”
Bulma shrugged. “Well, his father is a Lieutenant General, so he’s probably had a pretty strict childhood, I’d wager.”
Chi-Chi nodded thoughtfully. “That might explain some things. So… Because of his dad, does that mean you two aren’t…?”
Bulma shook her head sadly. “We’re barely friends,” she confessed, then hesitated. She wondered if she should tell Chi-Chi about the recent kiss, but she decided against it. It wasn’t something she was ready to share yet, and she got the impression Chi-Chi wouldn’t approve.
Chi-Chi shrugged. “Well, maybe he’s just not that into you, which is probably for the best, hun. To be honest, Vegeta seems more trouble than he’s worth. Besides, you don’t want to marry into the military, too much fighting and testosterone. You want a smart husband, someone equal to yourself.”
Bulma scowled, not much caring for Chi-Chi’s words. “Wow Chi-Chi, there is so much wrong with what you just said. First of all, I can’t believe you’re ragging on the military, you’re a fighter yourself AND dating one.”
“Exactly, learn from my mistakes.”
“Uh-huh. Second,” Bulma continued. “I doubt there’s anyone out there mentally equal to myself who would also interest me, besides, Vegeta is pretty smart. And third - and most importantly - I’m not even looking for a husband at all, Jesus, we’re still in school, Chi-Chi!”
But Chi-Chi only seemed to be half listening, more interested in the clearance section that Bulma’s protests. The whole conversation left Bulma feeling rather dissatisfied, all riled up with no means to vent her frustration. She found herself hoping Vegeta would be around when she got home, he always provided a good fight to let off some steam.
Bulma was in luck for when she arrived home from the mall, Vegeta was in the kitchen eating a late dinner. She watched him from the kitchen entryway. He was hunched over the counter, putting large spoonfuls of food into his mouth, the muscles under his shirt rippling as he fed. Just looking at him filled her with various emotions - most notably longing, for what she couldn’t have, and prickles of energy, for the fight she was going to instigate. She tried to ignore the warmer feeling in the pit of her belly he instilled in her, but the more she tried to ignore it, the more it swelled up, enveloping her like a blanket, soft and comforting. That’s what it was; she felt comfortable around Vegeta. There was no pretense with him, no acting or fake smiles or putting on airs. Just comforting familiarity… and a bristling lust that she had to divert into anger, lest she do something to embarrass them both.
“You’re staring,” Vegeta suddenly said, startling her out of her reverie. He didn’t even look up, but somehow he knew she was there.
That irritated her. Not a lot, but it was enough, and she used that to get her going, aching for a fight if Vegeta wouldn’t play nice and satisfy her other aches.
She walked over and stood in front of him, glaring. “If I’m staring it’s because you’re moving weird,” she said snottily. It wasn’t true, but she dangled the verbal hook, hoping he’d engage her.
Vegeta stopped eating, looking at her, stunned. Then his eyes narrowed. “You noticed?”
Bulma blinked, fighting back surprise. Okay, that was not the reaction she had been expecting. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “Of course,” she replied haughtily, bluffing. “I’m not an idiot.”
Vegeta frowned, still surprised by her observation. “Hm… Well, it’s nothing. Just a pulled muscle.”
All thoughts of arguing fled her mind at his comment. Her back straightened, alarmed. “What did you do?” she asked, concerned. “Whenever you say ‘it’s nothing’ it usually means it’s something. Did you get into another fight?”
Vegeta’s expression showed his displeasure. “Do I look like I did? Don’t jump to conclusions. I just over-did it in your gym.”
“Our gym,” Bulma corrected him, reminding him this was as much his home now as hers. “Show me.”
Vegeta gave her an incredulous look. “The gym?”
“Your injury, dummy,” Bulma snapped, putting a hand on her hip. “For all I know you’re putting on a brave face while hiding a slipped disk.”
“Hardly,” Vegeta drawled, his expression annoyed by her lack of faith.
“Show me,” Bulma insisted, not backing down. Then she got an idea, and she felt an evil smile creep onto her face. She leaned in close to him, letting her expression grow smug. “Show me, or I’ll tell my father you kissed me.”
Vegeta’s eyes widened, then just as quickly narrowed, his expression darkening. “You’d blackmail me?”
Bulma shrugged nonchalantly. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Vegeta’s lip curled up in a silent snarl, his hand tightening on his fork. Then he threw the utensil down on his plate and reached to pull off his top. He yanked the fabric off angrily, baring his torso to her, fully exposed in the sharp kitchen light. Bulma had to resist a look of pity as all his scars, old and new, were suddenly revealed, and boy, were there a lot.
“Here,” Vegeta spat out, pointing at a spot on his back. “I pulled a muscle here. You can’t even see anything can you? Satisfied now?”
Bulma couldn’t reply, words failing her. He was littered with damage, and those were just the ones that left visible marks. Vegeta had suffered so much abuse over the years. It wasn’t fair, it tore her up to see. She came around behind him, glad he wouldn’t be able to see her expression, knowing he’d loathe her pity. She reached out, gently pressing her fingers to the spot Vegeta was indicating. His flesh felt warm to the touch, almost burning, his skin smooth and pliable over his rigid muscles.
“Does this hurt?” she asked softly as she pressed, her voice hoarse from held-back emotion.
He was facing forward, his shoulders hunched, still still mad at her. His back seemed broader than she remembered, his efforts in the gym paying off. He let his hand fall away and he grunted indifferently. “Not really.”
Bulma placed her thumb to the spot and started massaging it, gently at first, then with more pressure when Vegeta didn’t flinch in pain. “Is this okay?” she asked.
She half expected a snarky reply, but none came. Vegeta bowed his head and grunted again, softer this time. “Yeah…”
Bulma smiled, hearing the relief in his voice; he was enjoying it. She thought about how hard he trained despite his injuries, barely resting, never seeking any relief. She thought about his life too, what little she knew of it, and wondered if this was the first time anyone had touched him gently in months, or years. Or ever. It made her heart ache, and Bulma found herself determined to give Vegeta all the nice things he’d always been denied.
She brought her other hand up to join her first, letting her thumbs do most of the work, pressing into his muscles, gliding over his perfect back, feeling every little scar. She started on the place he’d indicated, but soon she let her hands trail up the length of his spine, towards his shoulders, pressing firmly. She could feel him relax little by little beneath her. She rubbed her thumbs in hard, broad circles against his shoulders, then worked her way slowly down along his spine. She pressed firmly, massaging the dip in his lower back, and Vegeta let out a long, relieved moan. He sank forward, resting his head on his forearm, giving in to her touch.
She smiled in triumph. She finally had Vegeta at the mercy of her hands, but all she wanted to do was continue touching him and making him feel good. She doubted he’d ever let his guard down this way in front of anyone else before, and she was flattered and determined to not let him down, and to give him the best massage of his goddamn life. She soon lost herself in the act, enjoying the chance to touch his body without restraint, taking every little moan and sigh of pleasure from him as a personal victory. He groaned in gratification when her fingers worked his neck and and put pressure at the base of his skull, massaging away his tension. She pushed her long fingers against his scalp, slipping them through his thick hair, and Vegeta shuddered in pleasure, his fingers curling.
It was everything she could do to not drape herself against his strong back as he made noises, laying sprawled half naked at her mercy, totally vulnerable. But Bulma restrained herself, letting her fingers alone express the desire she had to be all over Vegeta like chocolate syrup melting over ice cream.
She ended the massage by working the troubled area one final time before her fingers trailed away. As soon as she stopped she regretted not being able to touch him more. She patted Vegeta on the arm, moving to his side to look at him. “Better?” she asked, forcing cheeriness into her voice to hide her regret and desire.
Vegeta grunted, not wanting to move, but slowly he uncurled, sitting up. He blinked languidly as though waking from a long slumber. His eyes slid over to her briefly before slipping away, almost embarrassed. He wiped a hand over his face, nodding.
Bulma smiled, bemused by his actions; perhaps he’d been on the verge of sleep. It was odd and endearing to see Vegeta so subdued. “Why don’t you go on up? I can clean up after you,” she offered, feeling generous.
Vegeta shook his head, fisting his shirt in his lap, not looking at her. “I’m fine here.”
Bulma cocked her head. “Really, it’s no trouble,” she insisted. “You should rest up.”
“I can rest up plenty right here,” he snapped back.
“Okay. Fine, whatever,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at his touchiness. Her eyes rested on his shirt. “Why don’t I help you with that,” she suggested, reaching for his top so that he wouldn’t have to struggle to dress with his cast.
Vegeta reeled back, smacking her hand away. Bulma clutched her stinging hand to her chest, startled. They stared at each other a moment, both of them stunned, before Vegeta looked away, scowling in embarrassment.
Bulma didn’t know what to think of his behavior. She pursed her lips and scowled. “Why are you being so stubborn? I’m trying to be nice here.”
Vegeta gritted his teeth. “Did I ask you to be?”
She flung her hands in the air, exasperated. “The point of being nice is that you don’t HAVE to be asked. Now, are you going to let me be nice to you or not, asshole?”
Vegeta was still looking away, scowling. “Just… give me a minute.”
Bulma crossed her arms, not understanding. He was being so abstruse. “Why’s that?”
He gave her a pained, sidelong look, then glanced away again. He tried to twist further from her in his chair, adjusting his shirt still bunched in his lap. “I just need a goddamn minute, okay?”
Bulma glared at him, but something in his tone and defensive behavior struck a nerve. She looked again at his hand fisted protectively in his lap, and realization struck her like ice water to the face. She felt herself blush. Apparently, her massage had been good, a little too good, and had created an unwanted side effect that Vegeta was trying his best to hide beneath the t-shirt in his lap. “Oh…”
For a moment they both remained in the kitchen in awkward silence, neither knowing what to say to the other, looking anywhere but at each other.
Bulma cleared her throat. “I uh… could get you more food?” she offered.
“Yes, do that,” Vegeta gratefully agreed.
Still blushing, Bulma busied herself in the kitchen, keeping her eyes steadfastly on the food to give Vegeta what little privacy she could. As she cooked over the stove, her back to him, Bulma couldn’t help a little smile grow on her lips. She’d actually had an effect on him, finally. She was so tired of being the only one to fall to pieces from just a touch or a look. It was a small victory, and compliment, but she was willing to take it. Maybe her chances with Vegeta weren’t so hopeless after all.
By the time she was done, Vegeta’s ‘issue’ had subsided, and he’d slipped his shirt back on, although his embarrassment was still written all over his face. Bulma served him then started to leave.
“Not hungry?” he asked as he started to eat.
Bulma flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Mm, no, I already ate with Chi-Chi at the mall.”
Vegeta grunted.
“Well, night then,” she bade him over her shoulder as she left. She hesitated at the doorway, a wicked idea coming to her. Did she dare? She glanced at Vegeta, the memory of what he’d done to her in the school hallway still burnt into her memory. Oh yes, she dared. “Oh, Vegeta?” He didn’t reply, but she knew she had his attention. “Now that you know how good I am with my hands, you know where to find me if you need anything else massaged.”
She ducked out of the kitchen with a wicked smirk, the sound of Vegeta choking on his dinner following her up the stairs as she stifled her own laughter. Payback was a bitch, and its name was Bulma.

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AN:

Phew, finally, I posted this! Boy was I super unhappy with the first draft of this chapter, and the next twenty drafts after >_< . I had to rework it -a lot-, on top of dealing with Independence Day weekend, so this was posted a day later than I wanted it to be, so sorry about that. I hope you guys enjoyed it though!

FYI, I normally try to put up a new chapter every 2-3 days, but I have A LOT coming up this week, so I’m not sure if I can keep to that schedule. We’ll see, but there’s a good chance you’ll have to wait until the end of the week or the weekend for chapter 13. Sorry in advanced if that turns out to be the case. :(

P.S. Don’t forget to look at GalacticShark17 on twitter for an amazing roughed up Vegeta drawing, not to mention other totally cool stylized DBZ and Vegebul related art, and perhaps if we’re super lucky, some more art for this story? *bats eyelashes coquettishly*
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