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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
- 14
- 15
- 16
Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets
Ch.15 - Camping

The next morning, Bulma woke feeling tired and groggy, her mouth dry, her stomach queasy. But she knew it could have been worse if it hadn’t been for Vegeta to put a stop to her drinking and get some fluids into her. Bulma rolled over, hearing a plastic crunching sound, and she looked down to see the sports drink she’d been clutching in her sleep, half squashed beneath her chest. She blinked at it sleepily, trying to remember the course of events from previous night. Her memories were fuzzy, but they were all there… regrettably. Bulma blushed, groaning as she recalled how flirtatious she’d been with Vegeta. She prayed she hadn’t over done it and ruined their friendship. Bulma brought her hands up, scrubbing her face as if she could scrub away her embarrassment, wanting to hide in her room all day, but she would need to leave eventually, so she finally dragged herself out of bed and got up.
Bulma went to the bathroom, feeling gross. She took a long, hot shower and brushed her teeth, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, she was feeling slightly more human and alive. Wearing just a simple t-shirt and shorts, Bulma wandered sluggishly into the kitchen. Vegeta was already there eating breakfast, sitting in fresh work out clothes ready to hit the gym. As soon as she entered his gaze flicked to her and he frowned speculatively, watching her, her every move open to his scrutiny. “You’re alive, I see,” he commented dryly.
“Yep,” she replied, trying to sound more cheery than she felt and not let on that she’d overdone it with the alcohol. Bulma really didn’t want an ‘I-told-you-so’ speech from Vegeta right now. She grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and took a seat. She tried to open the bottle but was feeling too crappy to put any strength into the action.
Vegeta tsked and snatched it from her hands, opening the bottle in one easy gesture. Bulma was instantly reminded of the previous night when he’d done the same thing for her. She blushed at the memory and took the drink back when he offered it. “Thanks.”
He only grunted.
They ate breakfast in silence. Bulma’s mind kept replaying every one of her humiliations, every flirtatious gesture and comment she’d made, each one coming back to haunt her. And… oh god, had she bitten him? Oh dear god, she had. “Are the others still here?” she asked, struggling to think of something to talk about that would get her mind off last night.
“Some left after you went to bed, those that slept over have already eaten and gone home,” Vegeta told her between mouthfuls of cereal.
Bulma nodded, glad she didn’t have to deal with any hung over friends, although the idea that Vegeta might have had to was intriguing to say the least. She wondered if he’d just barked at everyone to get the fuck out. “Thanks,” she said, glancing at him. His eyes flicked up to look at hers and she looked away, still embarrassed. “I really appreciate everything you did last night,” she said down at the kitchen counter, squirming under his scrutiny. She had been a brat, and Vegeta had tolerated her behavior better than she had any right to expect.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his tone indicating he wasn’t just talking about her gratitude. Bulma blushed harder. If he didn’t want to talk about last night, then she was happy to just let it fade away into a cringeworthy memory.
Vegeta finished his breakfast in silence, making quick work of his meal, then placed his dishes in the dishwasher and he began to head out. Bulma was still staring down at the kitchen counter, feeling tired, awkward and ashamed.
“Here,” Vegeta said suddenly, putting a banana down in front of her. Bulma looked up at him and was surprised to see his expression, soft, almost kind. “You should eat. You’ll feel better if you do.”
Bulma gave him a small smile in gratitude. “Thanks.”
Then he smirked at her, and Bulma felt her stomach twist up, both fearful and turned on. “Just ‘thanks’?” he asked, amused. “Drunk you would have been ecstatic to have received something from me last night.”
Bulma’s face reddened, and she scowled at him, pissed. “Dick.”
“You wish,” he chuckled cruelly, and left her alone in the kitchen, red as a tomato.

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“Camping?”
Coach Piccolo nodded at the fight team, the group arranged before him in the school gym. He handed a form to each one of them. “Get your parents to sign these permission slips ASAP. We’ll be going next weekend. It’ll be a great chance to get some exercise outside of the gym and learn about survival beyond mixed martial arts.”
Bulma watched as the coach explained the trip. The fight club had been approved to go camping as some kind of team building exercise. She noticed even Vegeta gave the permission slip a serious look, his eyes raking over the details before he grimaced and shoved it into his bag. Was he actually interested in camping?
“What about me?” Bulma called, standing up on the bleaches, waving her hand to get the Coach’s attention before running down towards the floor.
“Miss Briefs?” Piccolo asked, raising a surprised brow. “This is only for the MMA club members.”
“Aw, c’mon Coach,” Goku prevailed. “Bulma is like, an honorable member. She comes to almost as many training sessions as we do, and all our tournaments.”
“Yeah, she’s like our mascot!” Krillin joked. Bulma glared at him, and he reeled back, the smile on his face instantly vanishing.
The other members also threw in their support for Bulma. She felt touched. “And let’s not forget, I could use a female companion,” Chi-Chi added firmly, linking her arm with Bulma’s. “Or are you going to let me sleep with the boys in a tent?”
Piccolo grimaced at the thought. “Alright, fine!” he threw up his hands, surrendering. “Get a signature and you can come too, Miss Briefs,” Piccolo relented, handing Bulma a permission slip.
Bulma beamed. “Can my parents fax you? They’re currently on vacation.”
“I don’t care how I get it, I just need proof of permission that you can attend,” the coach barked irritably and walked off, calling the practice session to a close. Everyone was abuzz with excitement for the upcoming trip, already making plans and discussing what they should bring.
As Bulma and Vegeta walked home, she glanced at him, noticing the frown on his face. “You’re gonna go, right?” she asked, giving him a light elbow in the side.
Vegeta shrugged a shoulder, frowning. “Can’t. My father is out of the country for work, and isn’t easily contacted. I doubt I’d get a response from him in time.”
“Oh,” Bulma said. She gave him a reassuring smile. “No matter, I’ll just have my dad give permission for the both of us.”
Vegeta gave her a bemused look. “How?”
Her smile grew smug, her eyes twinkling. “He is technically your guardian right now.”
Vegeta’s expression grew surprised; it appeared he’d forgotten that. Then he scowled and looked away. “Tch. Like I’d even want to spend the weekend camping with those idiots. Spending time with them at your party was bad enough.”
Bulma smiled teasingly, not letting him brush the matter aside so easily. “I saw you looking at the permission slip. I know you want to go.”
“Tch.”
“Have you been camping before?” She asked, curious.
It looked like he wasn’t going to answer her at first, but he soon gave in. “…Yeah, a few times, as a kid with my dad.” He paused, lost in thought, then added almost grudgingly, “It was pretty fun.”
Bulma raised her brows. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Vegeta use ‘fun’ to describe anything. “Oh?” she asked, trying not to push him, but desperately wanting to know more about his past.
He nodded, speaking slowly, as if the act of revealing parts of his life was foreign to him. “It’s quiet, and there are little distractions,” he explained, frowning in thought. “You have to stay sharp, because nature can turn on you pretty quickly. But there are no hidden motives or agendas out there; just you, nature, and survival… I like that,” he admitted softly.
Of course he would, Bulma thought to herself, half charmed, half amused. She put her hand in his, and was happy when he didn’t pull his away. “That sounds just like you,” she said, her voice encouraging, grateful he’d shared that with her.
Vegeta gave her an odd look, his expression almost amused. “Have you been camping?”
“Yep,” she said cheerily. “I hate it.”
Vegeta balked. “What? Then why in the hell did you make such a big deal about being invited?”
Bulma laughed. “Because you’re all going. I don’t want to be left behind! Duh.”
Vegeta rolled his eyes, his brows pulling into an aggravated scowl. “You’re infuriating!”
Bulma grinned, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

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Come that Saturday, everyone had gathered at the school to board the mini-bus that would take them to the foothills where they’d traverse a trail up to find camp grounds for their team building adventure. Everyone was excited as they piled into the bus and drove off towards the base of the trail, outside of the city, and even Vegeta seemed to be scowling less than usual. The only two people who weren’t looking happy were Yamcha, who was glowering at Vegeta more than usual, and Bulma, who was feeling pretty unwell. She had woken up with her back in pain, and the huge backpacks they were expected to carry on their hike wasn’t doing her any favors. The giant bags they each carried had to fit clothing, a sleeping roll, a tent, cooking equipment and other supplies, and it dug into her shoulders painfully, already the bane of her existence and they hadn’t even started hiking yet. It was far more weight than she’d ever had to carry before, and on top of her aching back, the whole ordeal was putting her in a foul temper. She could tell Vegeta had noticed her mood by the way he kept glancing at her, but he said nothing, and she didn’t feel up to explaining herself, hoping that somehow things would get better.
After they had all been accounted for and had their equipment checked and been given a thorough lecture on safety by the Coach for perhaps the third time that morning, they headed off up into the hills towards their camp grounds.
Chi-Chi and Bulma paired off and chatted for a while as they hiked, or rather Chi-Chi chatted as Bulma listened, her back hurting too much to make her feel up to contributing to the conversation. After a while Chi-Chi left her to catch up with Gokue, further up the trail. Bulma was surprised to see Vegeta at the front of the hike, astride with the coach. Vegeta appeared to be in his element, traversing the trail with ease, even with his large backpack on. He was scanning the area intently, and now and then would ask the coach questions about the terrain, weather, hunting and other pertinent questions. Bulma would have been impressed if not for how awful she felt.
They marched on, seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into an hour of pure torture. Bulma had fallen into last position in line, struggling to keep up with everyone, sweaty and aching and dismal. She wouldn’t call herself unfit, but she was no mixed martial artist, and her back was killing her. She was regretting ever having asked to come on this stupid trip and was feeling well and truly sorry for herself.
“Hey, are you okay?” Yamcha asked, pausing a few feet in front to look at her, his face worried.
Bulma forced a fake smile. “Yeah, just… you know, not in as good a shape as you guys, haha…”
Yamcha turned around and called up the line. “Hey, Coach! Break?”
Everyone came to a halt. Piccolo looked down the line, and it was clear to Bulma that no one needed a break except for her. She felt herself turn pink, humiliated that she was the reason their hike was being held up when she wasn’t even supposed to be there. Piccolo grunted. “Hm, we’re about half way there, so I suppose we can take 10 minutes. No one wander off though. Just catch your breath, take a drink, and we’ll be on our way, got it?”
They all nodded their heads and took off their bags to sit and get a breather. Bulma dumped her bag with a heavy groan and flopped to the ground, but she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt worse. In only 10 minutes she was going to have to put the damn bag back on and continue the hike, and by the looks of things the terrain would only get steeper. The thought almost brought her to tears. She was out of her element. She didn’t want to be here, to sleep on the rocky ground in the cold outdoors with gross insects and wild animals crawling around, no toilets or hot showers or cell signals about. She’d only come to have fun with her friends, with Vegeta, but right now she was having anything but fun. She was such an idiot.
Bulma rubbed her lower back and tried not to let her self-pity overwhelm her to the point of breaking down, not needing the further humiliation to be caught bawling.
“Here, have some water,” Yamcha offered helpfully, holding out a canteen for her with a soft smile, sitting down next to her.
Bulma tried to return his smile. She accepted the water and took a small sip. “Thanks… I don’t suppose you have any ibuprofen?”
Yamcha looked concerned. “No, sorry. Do you have a headache?”
Bulma shook her head. “My back,” she said, her gaze slipping away from his.
Yamcha’s eyes widened knowingly. “Oh,” he replied, sympathetic. Bulma felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed, knowing that he knew her secret. “Hey, someone else should have a first aid kit,” he offered, and was standing up to call out to everyone.
“No, don’t,” Bulma hissed, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him back down. She didn’t need for him to tell the whole group about her problem! She knew he was just trying to be helpful, but Yamcha had never really thought through his actions that well.
“Sorry,” he said, sitting back down, looking bashful that he’d upset her.
Suddenly there was a loud thud and Bulma and Yamcha looked up as Vegeta dropped his bag on the ground next to them and sat down. He glared at Yamcha, and surprisingly, Yamcha didn’t look away, glaring right back at Vegeta. It was uncharacteristically antagonistic of him.
Vegeta broke the stare first, turning his back on Yamcha and look at Bulma. “You’re slow,” he told her bluntly.
Bulma could feel her cheeks grow hot and it made her agitated. “I’m aware,” she replied dryly.
“Then try harder.”
“I-”
“Hey, cut her some slack,” Yamcha butt in before Bulma could reply for herself.
Vegeta looked at Yamcha, a nasty smile growing on his lips. Bulma realized this is what he wanted, to antagonize Yamcha into a fight. She hurriedly spoke before things got out of control. “I can speak for myself, Yamcha,” she said, but before she could say anything more, Piccolo shouted at the group.
“Break’s over! Let’s get moving so we have enough daylight to set up camp and enjoy some activities.”
Everyone started to get up and swing their backpacks on. Bulma stood slowly, putting a hand to her lower back and staring down at her pack with a helpless expression. This hike was going to kill her.
A large arm appeared and picked up her pack, and Bulma looked to see Vegeta swinging it onto his chest. “Vegeta-” she protested.
“Shut up and stop dawdling,” he snapped at her, his backpack on his back, hers on his front. He started moving forward, walking as though the added weight were of no concern.
“Pff, show off,” Yamcha muttered under his breath, his tone startling ugly. His vehemence surprised her, but she had no time for Yamcha’s pettiness. Bulma hurried to catch up to Vegeta, feeling bad that he had to pick up her slack.
She opened her mouth to protest Vegeta’s help, but stopped herself short; he wouldn’t listen to her, and even if he did, she would then be stuck carrying her bag, and there was no way she’d be able to keep pace with the group. Bulma hung her head in defeat. “Sorry,” she mumbled to him, feeling awful.
“Don’t be,” he said, looking ahead at the trail. “I’ve had to carry more than this.” He glanced at her and saw how guilt-ridden she was. His expression softened. “I wouldn’t carry it if I couldn’t handle it, Bulma.”
The use of her name did the trick, and she relented to his greater strength. She gave him a small smile. “Okay, thanks. You’re a life saver.”
He gave her a puzzled look, almost embarrassed by her sentiment, then scowled and looked away.
They marched on for the next hour, and although Vegeta got sweaty, his pace never slowed and he wasn’t breathing any harder than the others. Goku came by and offered to take Bulma’s bag for a while, but Vegeta just sneered at him and picked up his pace, refusing the assistance. Goku shrugged at Bulma before returning to hike by Chi-Chi’s side.
They finally arrived at their campsite, much to Bulma’s relief, not only for herself but for Vegeta. Vegeta dropped their packs and took a few large swallows of water from his canteen, and that was all the rest he gave himself before getting to work on the campsite. Everyone pitched in with various tasks, setting up tents, clearing an area for cooking, collecting firewood, locating fresh water, and designating a place to use as a latrine.
Bulma and Chi-Chi were tasked with preparing and cooking dinner, not because they were the girls but because they were the only ones who knew how to cook decently, and Bulma was especially happy to leave the more physical duties to the stronger boys. The guys completed their tasks quickly and efficiently. Only Yamcha still had a sour look on his face, throwing Vegeta unfriendly glances when he thought the spiky-haired boy wouldn’t notice. His behavior was really starting to irk Bulma, it was almost as if Yamcha was working himself up to something, and if he thought he had a chance against Vegeta, then he was in for a world of hurt.
But Bulma wasn’t able to pull Yamcha aside and give him a piece of her mind as Piccolo rounded everyone up for a game. Bulma stayed out of it to watch the food, grateful for the chance to rest and sit by the warmth of the portable stove.
As the group started to play, Chiaotzu suddenly came to a running halt, bent over and threw up, his vomit brightly colored. Every time it seemed like he might have got himself under control, he heaved again.
“What did he eat?” Piccolo asked Tien.
“I don’t know,” Tien said, looking worried. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, damnit… there were berries where we were collecting firewood.”
Piccolo swore colorfully. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO EAT ANY FRUITS OR MUSHROOMS HERE. DID I NOT SAY THAT?!”
Bulma felt her anxiety rise, watching as poor Chiaotzu continued to be sick, not even able to explain himself, his mouth otherwise occupied. “I-is he going to be alright?” she asked.
“He’ll be fine,” Piccolo snapped. “But he needs to go to the hospital.” Piccolo looked at the group and sighed at his predicament, torn between tending to Chiaotzu and chaperoning the group. “Tien, you come with me. The rest of you, STAY HERE. I mean it, if one of you idiots so much as pisses outside of this campsite, I will have you expelled before you can finish shaking it. Got that?”
They all nodded, solemn. Piccolo scooped up Chiaotzu and he and Tien left the camp to hurry down the trail, back towards civilization. After they left, everyone sat down around the camp fire, sobered from the shock of the turn of events.
“He’ll be fine,” Krillin said, sounding like he was trying to reassure himself as much as anyone else.
“Yeah,” Chi-Chi agreed, infusing her voice with false cheeriness.
No one else knew what to say, and silence fell on the camp.
Goku looked at his girlfriend. “Will dinner be ready soon?” he asked.
“How could you think of food at a time like this?!” Chi-Chi asked, appalled.
Goku looked guilty. “Well, what else are we supposed to do?” he asked. “Food always makes me feel better.
“Like I could eat after watching that,” Yamcha said, looking queasy.
Everyone else nodded in agreement. Time passed with little conversation. By the time the food was finally cooked, most of them had regained their appetites, and Bulma helped serve the meal, giving Goku and Vegeta got extra large portions as they were the biggest eaters. They all ate quietly, the mood still morose, waiting for Piccolo to return. The sun started to sink below the horizon, the sky bleeding orange.

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Hours passed, and the coach hadn’t returned yet. It was dark and cold, and everyone was on edge, wanting to hear good news about their friend. Bulma was huddled by the fire, shivering, her thin jacket not providing her with much warmth. If she sat any closer to the fire, she was going to crisp. Bulma was feeling pretty miserable. Her back still hurt, she was cold, worried about Chiaotzu, and Yamcha was getting on her nerves, still glaring at Vegeta, or when he wasn’t, he was throwing her sympathetic looks. It was driving her nuts.
“Here, you can have my jacket,” Yamcha suddenly offered her, breaking the silence of the campsite. He stood up and started unzipping his jacket to give to her.
“She doesn’t need anything you could give her,” Vegeta said, his tone calm, but there was an edge to it that no one could miss.
Yamcha stopped and glared at Vegeta. “I didn’t ask you, did I?”
Vegeta sneered. “If she’s cold, she should have brought warmer clothes. A little cool air isn’t going to kill her. Don’t use it as an excuse to worm your way back into her life.”
Yamcha gritted his teeth furiously, pointing an arm at Bulma. “Do you even know why I’m offering my jacket to her? You have no idea, do you? Some fucking boyfriend you are.”
Bulma’s eyes widened in shock. She opened her mouth to tell Yamcha that, once again, she and Vegeta weren’t dating, but Vegeta stood up, narrowing his eyes at Yamcha. “Sounds like someone’s jealous they blew their chance,” Vegeta ridiculed. “Well guess what, you fucked up and lost her. Which is lucky for her, I might add. But your mistake is on you, so stop blaming me for the fact that you cheated on her and she dumped you.”
Yamcha looked beside himself with fury. She knew she should stop them from arguing, but she found her tongue tied, watching the unfolding drama like an impeding train wreck, unable to look away or prevent what was happening.
“You stupid jackass, I’m not upset about us breaking up!” Yamcha spat back, taking a step forward and pointing a finger at Vegeta’s chest. “I’m upset that she’s being fooled by the likes of you!”
Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “The only person fooling themselves here is you, and you’ll look more than foolish if you don’t remove that finger from my person,” Vegeta said, his voice low and dripping with malice.
Yamcha dropped his finger, but he wasn’t done talking, turning to face Bulma. “He’s been deceiving you, Bulma,” Yamcha declared. “I tried to tell you he was no good, and now I know. Raditz said some things at the party that got me curious, so I dug around, and it turns out your new friend here was part of a gang. Or still is, for all we know.”
Chi-Chi gasped, the other guys stirred, uncertain how to react. Bulma looked at Vegeta, trying to gauge his reaction to Yamcha’s announcement, trying to see if it was true. Vegeta’s face was shadowed in the flicking light of the campfire, his expression impassive, stony. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he barely moved, rigid and unforgiving. What was most telling was the lack of any rebuff. His eyes flicked over to her, and their gaze locked, his eyes searching hers, and hers his. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She could see him start to close himself off, his eyes growing more guarded, putting up a wall, and his gaze slid away from her, shutting her out completely.
Yamcha wasn’t finished. “Not just any gang, either,” he continued, giving Vegeta a nasty look. “The Icejin gang. You know, only the most notorious and well organized gang in the whole damn country. They have branches everywhere, and there are rumors they have people in places of power in the government and military and everything. They’re mafia. For all we know, Vegeta is a drug dealer, or a murderer!”
“That’s enough!” Bulma shouted, her voice furious. She stood up, her hands fisted, trembling in outrage at her sides, her ire directed at Yamcha. “Who gave you permission to air out someone else’s dirty laundry, huh?” she demanded.
Yamcha reeled back, surprised. “Bulma, I…”
“Whatever,” Vegeta cut in, his voice unperturbed, detached, and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand, brushing them all off. He walked over to his tent, grabbed his bag, then headed out of the camp, leaving them without another word or glance.
“Vegeta!” Bulma cried, panicked to see him leave. She took a step after him but found herself being held back. She looked over her shoulder to where Yamcha was grabbing her wrist.
“Bulma!” he begged, his eyes desperate. “You’re going to follow him, after everything I just told you?”
Bulma clenched her teeth, so mad she could barely speak. How dare Yamcha dig up secrets on Vegeta that may or may not be true, and even if they were, what right did he have to reveal them to everyone like he did? As if they didn’t have their own dirty secrets or mistakes. “You had no right,” she hissed at Yamcha, glaring into his eyes with burning fury. “You have no idea about him, or his past, or what he’s been through, or clearly what he means to me if you think any of what you said matters.”
“Bulma, please, I-”
“Let go of me, Yamcha,” Bulma said, knowing full well the double implication her words had. Vegeta had been right, Yamcha had never gotten over her, and she’d only been encouraging him.
Yamcha seemed to realize what her words meant too. He looked heartbroken, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Bulma…”
“Let me go,” she said again, softer, but no less firm.
Yamcha clenched his trembling jaw and lowered his head to hide his face from her, defeated. He let her wrist go. Bulma ran off to catch up with Vegeta, not looking back even as Chi-Chi called out for her to be careful.

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AN: much drama. Very wow.
Also GalacticShark17 is almost finished with that beat-up Vegeta fanart, there’s a preview on twitter, arrrgghhh I’m so excited to see the finished product! ^_^
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