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Oh, Me	By : Kichi Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female Views: 3594 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Oh, Me

By: Kichi
A/N: I know I told a few people this would be out a lot sooner but man,
I am such a procrastinator, and that's the only excuse I can give.

DISCLAIMER: I don't even own the bed or mattress I sleep on let alone
characters and merchandising rights. Leave me alone.

Chapter 2 - For Me This is Heaven

Bulma impatiently filled out forms as she waited for someone to come
and at least look at Vegeta's hand. They had been sitting in the
damn waiting room for over an hour. Vegeta was being too quiet for
her liking and she was getting worried again.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, leaning towards him.

"Oh yes, I think I'm going to die." He said, his voice flat.
She frowned and continued to fill out as much information as she could.

"How old are you?" he leaned forward to look at the forms and snorted.

"Human years are shorter than Saiyan. Which would you prefer?"
he asked, voice dripping sarcasm.

"Saiyan."

"Twenty nine."

"WHAT?!" Bulma cried incredulously.

"What?" Vegeta asked, confused. Bulma gaped at him.

"How many human years equal one Saiyan?"

"Two. A little more than two."

"Nani?" She gaped. "If you were human you'd be an old man!" he
snorted.

"Well let's just Thank Kami right now that I'm not." He said.
She almost smiled seeing some of his dark humor returning. But she
still couldn't think of why stabbing himself made his anger vanish.

"What is the average lifespan of a Saiyan, I mean one that lives to
old age?" Vegeta's brow furrowed as he thought back.

"Two hundred I think." He said slowly.

"Wow." Was all Bulma could think to say. "I just can't believe
your only twenty five. That's younger than me. Good thing your
technically not really twenty five." Vegeta frowned.

"But I am."

"That would make Goku about sixteen or seventeen!"

"So?" Bulma just shook her head. "A Sixteen year old Saiyan
is not like a sixteen year old human. We mature faster than you people
do. Usually Saiyans at age fourteen were allowed to return home."

"What?" Bulma said, blinking in confusion. She had totally lost
the thread of the conversation. Vegeta sighed and removed the bloody
red towel from his hand to examine the wound.

"I know Radditz explainll oll of this and I know you were there to
hear it. Think."

"Oh." Bulma said, memory returning. "That whole 'purging' thing."
Vegeta nodded. Bulma guessed from his silence that the conversation
was over. She frowned and continued to scribble information.
"So.." she began again. "When's your birthday?"

"My what?" Bulma sat up and stared at him for a moment.
Vegeta glanced at her and saw that look he hated most to see on her face.
It wasn't pity, but it was sadness or some similar ridiculous emotion.

"What day were you born on?"

"What does it matter?" he snapped, losing patience. He gave a
sideways glance to see if the dumb expression was still stamped on her
face.. oh yeah it was. He growled in irritation. "Get
that stupid look off your face. I know about your dumb human holidays
and all that crap, and if I really wanted to I suppose I could figure out
the date according to your stupid calendar," he snapped, voice thick with
scorn. "But I really don't care so I won't." Bulma grimaced.
Why was he being such a prick now? What was bothering him?
She doubted it was all the questions. At the worst her constant questions
merely annoyed him.

"Didn't you ever get birthday presents?" She asked quietly, trying
not to sound too sympathetic. He glanced at her again and she spied
confusion in his gaze. "That's it then. I demand that you tell
me when you birthday is so I can buy you presents." He snorted and
she could see a smirk curve his lips.

"Why?" Bulma stared at him as if he'd just grown two heads.

"Miss Briefs?" A woman behind the desk called.

"About fucking time." She quickly stood and motioned Vegeta to
follow. "I'm not going to forget this Vegeta." She muttered loud
enough for him to hear. He merely grunted in reply.
A young woman came over and led Vegeta to a short table and bade him
sit. Bulma insisted she come along even though she could see the
waiting room from where she stood. Vegeta gave her a questioning
look and she nodded. He sat on the table and gave the nurse his mangled
hand. She took a small bottle of clear liquid and began to spray
directly on the wound after handing Vegeta a few towels to catch the liquid.
Bulma saw his face grow cold. She knew that expression. What
ever she was pouring on his hand was hurting him.

"What is that?" Bulma asked.

"Water." The nurse said, "It has a little alcohol mixed in to
disinfect the wound." Bulma and Vegeta watched the almost black blood
fall away in coagulated clumps until the wound was nothing more than and
inch long slice. The nurse turned his hand palm up and began to drench
it.

The doctor came over as she was wiping some of the water up.
He was about Bulma's father's age and he had a kindly smile that was totally
lost on Vegeta.

"What happened here?" He asked with a smile and took Vegeta's hand
in his own to inspect the damage. Bulma saw Vegeta frown and turn
his head away. She knew he hated when other men touched him, she
was sure he'd rather have the doctor try to punch him in the face then
hold his hand in such a way even if it was only to examine the wound.
She almost laughed at the look of sheer discomfort on his face but kept
it well hidden. "He's going to need stitches." He said to the nurse
who nodded and scurried off to get needle and thread.

"What?" Vegeta barked. "I don't need stitches!" he began to rise.

"Vegeta. You do need stitches. Just let him do it."
Vegeta growled, the sound very audible. The doctor blanched at the
sound and took a step back immediately dropping Vegeta's hand.

"I'm afraid she's right." He said after a moment. "If this doesn't
heal properly you will have limited use of your hand." Vegeta scowled.

"Fine!" he snapped and immediately turned his eyes elsewhere.
The Nurse returned with a small tray covered with needle, thread, and gauze.

It took about forty-five minutes for the doctor to finish. He
wrapped Vegeta's newly stitched hand in bandages and gauze and gave Bulma
several tiny tubes of antibiotic ointment to apply to the wound each night.

There were out in the parking lot when Bulma spoke again.

"See? That wasn't so bad was it?"

"It's disgusting. Why can't yust ust build me a regeneration
tank? Twenty minutes in there would have healed this."

"Hey," Bulma said. "You did it to yourself." Vegeta growled.
"Besides, I've had stitches before. But everything healed fine, so who
cares? It's holding everything closed. It'll be fine."

"I don't care!" He snapped angrily. He looked like he wanted
to say something else but opted not to. Bulma unlocked the car and
they both got in. she heard Vegeta mumbling under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked, trying to sound sweet as possible and not
anger him further. He turned to stare at her, an odd look on his
face.

"I said October 29th." Bulma frowned. Vegeta smirked. "And you
said you wouldn't forget."

"Oh!" Bulma exclaimed, slapping her forehead. "Your birthday!
When did you figure that out?"

"In there." he said, motioning towards the rapidly diminishing view
of the hospital.

"It makes sense." She murmured to herself but he caught it anyway.

"You�re a Scorpio."

"A what?"

"Nothing, I don't feel like explaining it all now. I will on
your birthday." Vegeta snorted and turned his gaze out the window.
Bulma bit her lip. There was something else on her mind. That
kiss in the car was just too much without an explanation, but she knew
damn well she'd never get one from Vegeta. They were both silent
on the ride back to Capsule Corp.
Once they made their way inside Vegeta was about to take off when Bulma's
voice halted him.

"So, Vegeta. What do you want? You said anything."
He stood frozen in place for a minute. Was she serious? And
even if she was, did it really matter? Perhaps it would be better
if she didn't know how badly he wanted her. But they already had
a child together. He could feel the brat's ki as they stood there
staring at each other. So it really didn't matter too much.
He was already past the point of no return. He had a son and the
female before him was its mother.

What do I want? Do I really want her? He wondered.
He knew it was foolish to ask, even to himself. She was beautiful,
smart, strong, and proud. Maybe she wasn't strong physically but
he had to expect that coming from a planet of pathetic weaklings.
She could keep up with him mentally and usually gave as good as she got
in a verbal battle.

But earlier.. he'd almost lost control. The onna had infuriated
him and he knew it was either take his anger out on her or himself.
Surprisingly, he chose the latter. Why he had, he was still trying
to figure out.

It was true that there were many times when he hated her, the mere
sight of her, and the sound of her voice. Her stomach-churning
whining about 'Yamcha the love of her life'. But it was obvious she
possessed some manner of intelligence. And if he was totally honest
with himself he could admit that he was attracted to her physically.
But to care for her? To value her safety above his own?

But what other explanation was there? He had just stabbed himself
with a knife, and not a very sharp one at that, because he was afraid that
he would hurt her. Besides, he knew he could take the pain.
But the momentary rage she had caused had been beyond his control.
He knew he would have done something to hurt her if he hadn't hurt himself
first. He knew it was illogical but it really did make sense.

For some reason her comment about him "moping" had utterly enraged
him. He knew it shouldn't have even bothered him, but it did.
Everything was bothering him lately. He was closer and closer to
snapping and killing everyone with each passing day and he only had a vague
sense of why.

"Vegeta? Hello?" Bulma said, waving her hand in his face.

"I have to think about it." He snapped. Bulma gave him an odd
look but said nothing.

"Ok. I'll be working in the lab then."

"Whatever." He mumbled and stalked up to his room, slamming the door
behind him. He didn't feel like training today. He stared at
his nearly empty room and the bed with half the covers on the floor.
He sighed and let himself fall onto the mattress face fi
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