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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
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Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets
Ch.02 - One Punch Man

Bulma didn’t know how long she’d been sobbing on the roof, but it must have been a while because she was starting to feel hungry. She contemplated going down to get lunch, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. By now the whole school probably knew that Yamcha had been getting head from another girl, and that Bulma had walked in on it. Bulma was so humiliated, and more than that, heartbroken. She knew she and Yamcha didn’t always have a perfect relationship, and maybe it didn’t have ‘forever’ written all over it, but that didn’t make his betrayal any less painful. If they were going to break up, she hadn’t wanted it to be like this. And she certainly hadn’t wanted to see it.
Bulma wiped her eyes even as she felt more tears well up, the memory of Launch between Yamcha’s legs haunting her, burnt in her mind’s eye. Bulma lowered her head to her knees once more and let the tears fall. She loved Yamcha and more than that, he was her friend. That he could have done this to her broke her up more deeply than she could have imagined.
A short while later the lunch bell rang. Bulma heard someone open the rooftop door. She didn’t dare look up, not wanting company or to be seen crying. She waited, and after a short pause the door closed. Bulma peeked, looking around, but she didn’t see anyone. Good, she thought, they left. Bulma sank her head to her knees and continued to nurse her heartache.
A few minutes later the door once again opened. This time Chi-Chi came barging through it, looked around, and upon spotting Bulma came running over to her. “Oh Bulma, oh my god, are you okay? Everyone’s been so worried!”
Bulma allowed her friend to embrace her and Bulma cried all over again, sobbing against Chi-Chi’s shoulder as she relayed the whole horrible story of Yamcha’s betrayal to her friend. She quickly cried herself out, already having exhausted most of her tears, and let Chi-Chi pet her hair.
“Oh sweety, aren’t men just the worst?” Chi Chi tried to sympathize with her. “I knew that Yamcha was up to something but I had no idea it was something like this… You’ll be happy to know he’s really distraught. He’s been looking everywhere for you to apologise.”
“Everywhere, yeah right,” Bulma scoffed. “He hasn’t been here. And besides, I don’t want to see his stupid ugly face anyway. I don’t want to see his stupid ugly face ever again!” she screamed.
Chi-Chi nodded and petted Bulma’s hair. “Well, that might be difficult since we go to the same school and club, but we’ll try and keep the contact to a minimum.”
Bulma sighed, knowing she’d have to face Yamcha eventually, but she wasn’t ready that just yet. She let Chi-Chi soothe her for a while longer until her stomach audibly growled. Bulma huffed, embarrassed. “All this crying is making me hungry.”
“I’ll get us lunch,” Chi-Chi said and stood up.
Bulma nodded her thanks, wiping her eyes. “Hey, Chi-Chi?”
“Mm?”
“How did you find me if Yamcha couldn’t?”
Chi-Chi looked up, tapping her chin. “Oh, actually, it was that new guy, Vegeta.”
“Vegeta?” Bulma asked, surprised.
Chi-Chi nodded. “Yes. He came up to me and without so much as a hello, asked if I was on good terms with ‘that blue-haired girl’. When I said I was, he told me you were up here.” Chi-Chi gave Bulma a curious look. “How did he know that? Was he here too?”
Bulma remembered hearing the roof door open earlier. It must have been Vegeta, and upon seeing her crying, had fetched help. “I suppose he must have,” Bulma said, stunned that the surly boy had bothered to fetch Chi-Chi on her behalf. Vegeta didn’t seem the type to care.
“Well I’m glad he did,” Chi-Chi said with a smile. “Now you stay right there and I’ll be back with lunch in a hurry.” Bulma gave her friend a wet smile and watched as Chi-Chi hurried off.

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Bulma stayed home the next two days, unable to face the whispers at school or the thought of seeing Yamcha’s face. Chi-Chi visited her after school the first day and caught her up on what was going on. The second day Bulma received an unexpected caller.
The doorbell rang. Thinking it was Chi Chi, Bulma opened the door without a second thought. Only it wasn’t Chi-Chi. Vegeta was standing there, looking uncomfortable and put out. As soon as she opened the door he thrust a few pieces of paper at her. “Here,” he said. “The teacher made me bring this to you. This is what you missed and the rest of the week’s homework too.”
“Oh,” Bulma said, bewildered, and tooks the papers from him. Her eyes flicked to his hand and saw that Vegeta’s knuckles were swollen and bruised. So he had been fighting. Had he really beaten up Nappa?
Vegeta shoved his hand in his pocket and glared at her. Bulma stared back at him, unsure what to say. She was a little surprised Vegeta hadn’t stomped away by now. “Um… Thanks.”
Vegeta scowled harder. “You should come back to school already so I don’t have to play messenger boy, or get one of your annoying friends to deliver your work.”
Bulma was dumbfounded. She nodded. “Right, sorry. I’ll do that.”
“Which one?” He huffed.
Bulma blinked. “What?”
Vegeta’s brow furrowed further. “Which one? Are you going to come back to school, or are you going to have your friends deliver your assignments?”
Bulma couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. Why did he find it so important to know her choice? “Well, um, I don’t know… I need to think about it.”
Vegeta continued to glare at her, staring at her intently as if he could read her thoughts if he glared at her hard enough. Then he shook his head and looked away. “Everyone says you’re pretty smart, but I don’t see it at all.”
Bulma felt as though she’d been slapped in the face. She felt color rise to her cheeks and was about to give Vegeta a piece of her mind when movement on the pavement caught her eye. All the color in her face instantly drained, and she took a step back inside the doorway.
Vegeta, seeing her reaction, turned and saw Yamcha approach, flowers in one hand, a box of chocolates in the other. Yamcha wore the guilty expression of a misbehaving puppy. He’d even put some gel in his hair to try and look more presentable for his apology.
“Oh please,” Vegeta drawled snidely, sneering as Yamcha approached.
Yamcha glared at him, looking him over. “What are you doing here?” Yamcha asked Vegeta, narrowing his eyes at the new guy.
“Delivering homework,” Vegeta replied nonchalantly. “No thanks to you.”
“What?” Yamcha snapped back.
Vegeta glared at Yamcha with disdain. “Well the way I hear it, if you’d kept it in your pants, she wouldn’t be home crying over you, which means I wouldn’t be here handing over homework. So the next time you decide to be unfaithful, maybe think about how it’s going to inconvenience others, won’t you?”
Yamcha blushed furiously. Bulma felt her mouth fall open in shock. Neither of them could believe Vegeta’s gall. Yamcha threw the flowers and chocolates down on the ground, and raised his fists. “You’ve some nerve, new guy,” Yamcha hissed at Vegeta furiously.
Vegeta sneered, unthreatened. “Me? I’m not the one who thinks some cheap gas station gifts will make up for getting my dick sucked by the school slut.”
Yamcha gritted his teeth, livid. He took a swing at Vegeta, but Vegeta easily dodged it. Yamcha swung again, and Vegeta caught it with one hand, smirking.
“Stop it!” Bulma cried out, finally finding her voice. They both lowered their hands. Yamcha gave her a guilty look, Vegeta an indifferent one.
“Get out of here,” Bulma hissed at Vegeta. He was only making things worse by being there, and his rude and cocky attitude was pissing her off, even if what he was saying was true. And seeing Yamcha acting like such a fool was only making her angry, and she needed someone to vent that on.
Vegeta met her eyes, unflinching at her anger or the fresh tears that were running down her cheeks. He finally huffed and turned around. “You look terrible by the way,” he said in parting, and sauntered off. Bulma glared after him, her hand fisted around the homework he’d delivered. When he was gone, she turned her furious gaze onto Yamcha.
“Babe, oh Bulma, I’m so, so sor-” he started.
“You too, Yamcha.” She interrupted him curtly.
“What?”
Bulma glared at Yamcha, although with less heat than she had glared at Vegeta. Pain wrung her heart like a vice. She couldn’t see Yamcha without imagining Launch’s swollen lips. “Get out of here now, Yamcha. I can’t even look at you.”
“Bulma, please, let me just-”
Bulma spun about and slammed the door shut, locking it on Yamcha’s miserable face. She put her own face in her hand and waited until she heard Yamcha collect his rejected gifts and leave before allowing herself to cry.

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“Yamcha and Vegeta fought today,” Chi-Chi told her breathlessly the next day.
“What?!” Bulma asked, unable to believe her friend.
Chi-Chi nodded adamantly. “It’s true, half the school was there. Yamcha totally called Vegeta out and wouldn’t let him go until they had it out.”
“Oh my god, that idiot,” Bulma said, stunned beyond belief by Yamcha’s actions. “What happened?”
Chi-Chi spread her hands. “Well, it could have been worse. Yamcha tried hitting Vegeta but Vegeta was pretty good. I mean, you know I hate to say this about my guy but, he might even be better than Goku. Vegeta smacked Yamcha in the gut and your ex went down with just one punch.”
“My ex,” Bulma repeated numbly. She hadn’t thought of Yamcha like that. Is that what he was to her now, her ex? It sounded so final, and cold.
Chi-Chi continued, oblivious. “That’s when Coach came out and pulled the two guys into his office. Yamcha went to the nurse’s office for the rest of the day and Vegeta was sent home. Rumor is they’re both suspended but neither will talk. Well, Yamcha won’t talk, no one bothered to ask Vegeta. Everyone’s terrified of him.”
Bulma’s mind was reeling. She wished she’d seen the fight. Yamcha wasn’t a rookie. If someone could take him out in just one punch, they had to be pretty skilled, and pretty strong. “Why would he do that, attack Vegeta?”
Chi Chi gave Bulma a strange look. “Well, you should know, shouldn’t you? Yamcha was going on about protecting your honor and that Vegeta should stay away from you.”
Bulma groaned, smacking a hand over her face. “That idiot. Vegeta only delivered my homework.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I”m going to have to talk to him about us, aren’t I?”
Chi-Chi gave her friend a sympathetic smile. “You both need closure, one way or the other. Otherwise Yamcha’s just going to keep doing stupid things,” she agreed.
Bulma shook her head, torn. “What do I do, Chi-Chi? I still love him. I think.”
Chi-Chi gave her friend a piercing look. “Can you forgive him?”
Bulma thought about it, hard. “I.. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Can you trust him?”
The image of Launch nestled between Yamcha’s legs flashed again in Bulma’s mind. She recalled the smell of the blonde’s perfume on Yamcha, and all the times he had been late recently. This hadn’t been a one time fling. How long had Yamcha been cheating on her with Launch? And was she even the only one he’d been fooling around with? Bulma lowered her eyes, and shook her head. She couldn’t trust Yamcha again after this, not as a lover.
Chi-Chi patted her shoulder. “Well dear, I think you know what you need to do.”

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Breaking up with Yamcha was one of the most miserable experiences of her life. They both cried, a lot. Yamcha was convincing in his sincerity and apologies, and Bulma was half-tempted to give in and give it one more chance, but all she had to do was remember that scene in the bathroom and her resolve strengthened. Besides, their relationship hadn’t been perfect even excluding Yamcha’s infidelities. His cheating was simply the final nail in the coffin.
It was late when their conversation ended. Bulma headed home as the last rays of daylight bled from the sky, the shadows long on the pavement, the air cool. She took the long way home to give herself time to unwind and process the break up. The route took her past a park.
Bulma was stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and someone cry out. She froze, alarmed, familiar with the sound of someone getting beaten up. She’d heard it a thousand times before when her friends practiced fighting. Worried, Bulma grabbed her cell phone from her bag and peered through the trees to get a better look at what was happening.
Sure enough, across the park she saw a group of guys kicking something on the ground that was moving weakly. Bulma punched in 911 and dialed. Then, mustering up as much strength as she could she shouted, “I’M CALLING THE POLICE RIGHT NOW!”
The group of guys glanced up, muttered a few words, and then moved off, some of them limping, one holding their arm as if it pained them. Bulma ran over to check on what the boys had been attacking, her phone to her ear as she gave details to the police as she went. “Oh my god, it’s a person,” she reported as she got close enough. There was no response from the emergency operator. “Hello?” Bulma asked, checking her phone. The signal had cut out. Bulma swore, hoping the emergency responder had received enough information to send help their way. She shoved her phone away and hurried over to the attacked victim on the ground.
“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching out to touch their shoulder.
A hand lashed out and shoved her away. “I didn’t need your help!” a gruff but familiar voice replied.
Knocked down on her butt, Bulma looked up in surprise. “Vegeta?”
Vegeta painfully turned around, pushing himself up on trembling arms. He gave her a dark look, his face dirty and cut up. He spat blood on the ground to clear his mouth, then wiped his lips on his sleeve. “You, huh,” he croaked. “I can’t seem to get away from you lately.”
Bulma couldn’t help agreeing. She looked him over, appalled at the extent of damage Vegeta had sustained. He was badly beaten, although he was clearly trying to not let it show. “Let me help you up,” she offered.
Vegeta sneered at her. “I’m fine, you can go now.”
Bulma shook her head. “I can’t, I called the police. I should wait until they show.”
“Shit,” Vegeta swore, and stumbled to his feet. “Then I have to go.”
“Vegeta,” Bulma protested, and she stood up after him. “You’re seriously hurt! You should go to the hospital. What if there’s internal damage? And who were those guys?”
“All of that, is none of your fucking business,” Vegeta snapped back at her.
Bulma had had enough of the male ego for one week. She’d had to deal with Yamcha’s fragile ego all during their break up, so she was in no mood to put up with Vegeta’s prideful one. Bulma pressed her fists to her hips and glared at Vegeta vehemently. “It IS my fucking business, I’m making it my fucking business. You got the fuck beat out of you, and I witnessed it, so I’m obliged to fucking report it. So sit your fucking ass down and shut the fuck up and… fuck you very much!”
Vegeta blinked at her in surprise. Then he laughed, softly at first, then louder and harder. He grabbed his side, wincing in pain, but it didn’t stop him from laughing. It was a surprisingly pleasant sound, but Bulma wasn’t in the mood to be laughed at.
“I’m serious,” she pouted.
“I can tell,” he replied, smirking. The park lit up as emergency vehicles sped towards them. Vegeta’s smile faded, and he sighed. “Guess I’ve got no choice.”
“No,” Bulma said, raising her head triumphantly.
She stayed with him as the first responders looked him over and the police questioned him. Vegeta claimed not to know the guys who attacked him, and his description of the boys was vague at best. Sadly Bulma wasn’t much help either, having only seen the attackers at a distance and from the shadows. She rode with Vegeta to the hospital and stayed as they took x-rays and looked him over.
The doctor left the room to check the results, and Bulma and Vegeta were alone. Vegeta stared up at the ceiling. “Why are you still here?”
“Why isn’t your family here?” Bulma responded. He was beat up, shouldn’t a parent or older sibling be there for him?
Vegeta didn’t reply. Bulma decided not to push the issue, and Vegeta didn’t question her presence again.
The doctor came back shortly with Vegeta’s x-rays. “Well, other than the bruises and sprained ankle, looks like you’ve got a broken a rib, bucko,” the doctor said, pointing to the x-ray. He then gave Vegeta a stern look, and pointed to another rib, then another. “Not your first, it would seem.”
Vegeta returned the doctor’s look with a neutral expression. “I practice martial arts.”
The doctor made a skeptical sound. “Hmm. Perhaps it’s time to find a new hobby.” He wrote something on his notes and let the matter drop. He gave Vegeta a run down of his current injuries and how to treat them, as well as some prescriptions for pain medication. “I just have to finalize some things with your insurance and then you’ll be free to go,” the doctor finished, and once again he left Vegeta and Bulma alone in the room.
Bulma stared at Vegeta’s x-ray, seeing the new break as well as the signs of previous ones that had healed over time. She wondered if x-rays of Vegeta’s other bones would show similar signs of abuse. The injuries reminded her that Vegeta had taken out Yamcha in one hit, and apparently Nappa too. Even the boys who had been attacking Vegeta in the park hadn’t left unscathed. She’d seen the hobble away. Despite superiority of numbers, Vegeta had still held his own. Was Vegeta really that good?
“Did you really take out Yamcha with one punch?” she asked, still looking at Vegeta’s x-ray.
In her peripheral vision she saw Vegeta glance at her. “…Your boyfriend started it.”
“Ex,” she corrected him, looking down at her hands.
Vegeta was quiet for a moment. Then he shifted. “Guess you’re not so dumb after all.”
Bulma flashed him a glare. Vegeta looked away. Pissed at how rude and insensitive Vegeta could be, Bulma went back to glaring at his x-rays. That’s when she saw the label on the bottom. “What’s the ‘P’ stand for?” she asked.
Vegeta looked over at her, frowning. “What?”
Bulma pointed. “Your name. ‘Vegeta P. Saiyan’. What’s the ‘P’ for?”
Vegeta’s head snapped to the side to see the label on his x-ray. He clenched his jaw, and Bulma was sure she saw him blush. He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear.
“What was that?”
Vegeta sighed and gave her an aggravated look. “It stands for ‘Prince’, alright? And if you tell anyone you’ll live to regret it.”
Bulma pressed her lips together and tried not to make a sound. When Vegeta scowled at her, she lost her composer and laughed, trying unsuccessfully to smother it behind a hand.
“Oh yeah, ha ha, it’s very funny,” Vegeta drawled at her. “Like you can laugh at someone’s name, Miss Panties.”
Bulma snorted. “It’s ‘Briefs’, you dumbass.”
“Really?” Vegeta drawled and gave her a very obvious once over with his eyes, his gaze lingering low. “Didn’t think you were the ‘brief’ type.”
Bulma felt her face heat up. She lunged at him, raising a fist.
Vegeta caught her punch effortlessly. Her hand was tiny compared to his, and though his fingers gripped her wrist tightly, he didn’t hurt her. His skin was warm and pleasantly rough against her own.
For a heartbeat they stared at each other as Vegeta held her fist. Then Bulma snatched her hand away as if she’d been burnt, and Vegeta let her go. They sat in silence, not looking at each other, until the doctor returned.
When he did he told Vegeta that Mr. Saiyan had been contacted and that everything had been taken care of. Bulma didn’t miss the wince Vegeta made at the mention of his father.
The exited the hospital together. Bulma pulled out her mobile.
“What are you doing?” Vegeta asked her in a surly tone, limping beside her.
“Calling a cab.”
“That’s a stupid waste of money,” Vegeta grouched.
Bulma sighed. “It’s not an issue.”
Vegeta sneered. “Fine, whatever. You take your cab, I’m walking home.” He held out his hand to take his bag that Bulma had been looking after ever since the park.
Bulma hugged the bag tighter, refusing to hand it over. “Don’t be an idiot, you’ve got a sprained ankle.”
“Whatever,” Vegeta said, and started hobbling off.
Bulma rolled her eyes and shoved her phone back into her purse, hurrying after Vegeta. They walked in silence for a while, Bulma following Vegeta’s lead to head back to his place. She had no idea how to break the silence. Vegeta was so ornery. If he didn’t snap at whatever she was saying, he was insulting her. It was hard to carry on a conversation with someone like that.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Vegeta spoke. “Why do you dye your hair that color?”
Bulma reached up and fingered her blue hair. “I don’t.”
Vegeta scoffed. “Yeah right.”
“No, really,” Bulma insisted. She ran a hand through her hair until she found a loose strand. She offered it to Vegeta. “See, blue root and all.”
Vegeta took the hair and squinted at it. “It’s too dark,” he said, unable to clearly make out the tiny strand’s color in the evening light.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to trust me then,” Bulma said, primping her hair.
Vegeta gave her a curious look. Finally, his gaze lowered. “Your arm hair isn’t blue.”
Bulma rubbed her arm self consciously. “It is, it’s just very pale, almost blonde… and it’s not polite to comment on a lady’s arm hair, I’ll have you know.”
“It’s not?”
It was Bulma’s turn to shoot Vegeta a hard look. Was he being serious, or sarcastic? It was hard to tell with him, but it suddenly occurred to her that maybe he was being genuine. Did Vegeta just not know what was socially acceptable? Had no one ever taught him?
“So I guess it’s not polite to ask if the rug matches the curtains?” Vegeta asked her with a sparkle in his eye.
Bulma stopped walking, her face going bright red, her hands fisting at her sides. “NO, IT’S ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY, YOU PERVE!”
Vegeta smirked. It was the closest to a smile she’d seen him make yet, not counting his delirious laughter in the park. His amusement stunned her, and her anger deflated. She couldn’t help noticing that he was quite attractive when smiling. Bulma mumbled a few choice words under her breath at Vegeta, then continued walking down the street with him.
The rest of the walk was fairly quiet, but not entirely uncomfortable. Vegeta stopped walking and looked up. Bulma followed his gaze and was surprised when she saw they were standing in front of her home. “What, but…?” When did that happen, she hadn’t even been paying attention to their surroundings. They were supposed to going to Vegeta’s home.
“I live nearby,” Vegeta said, not meeting her eyes. He held out his hand for his bag.
Bulma was reluctant to hand it over. She’d meant to walk him back to make sure he was okay, but instead he had managed to walk her home. “If you’re close, let’s keep going.”
Vegeta reached out and snatched his bag from her grip. “No. I don’t need you knowing where I live.”
Bulma huffed. “You know where I live!”
Vegeta shrugged a shoulder. “That’s your own stupid fault for not coming to school.” Before Bulma could reply, Vegeta pointed a finger at her face. “And stay out of my face from now on, Briefs. I don’t owe you anything for today, you got that? I didn’t need your damn help, nor do I want it.” And with that, Vegeta turned and started limping off down the street.
Bulma watched him go, her jaw clenching, fuming. She stormed inside her house and slammed the front door closed, followed by her bedroom door. Men were so infuriating! She tossed all her pillows onto the floor and threw herself onto her bed. She wanted to cry over her break up with Yamcha, but her thoughts kept drifting back towards a ill tempered, spiky haired boy. Bulma finally pushed all thoughts of boys out of her mind, and fell asleep.

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AN:
I love surly Vegeta so much. XD
I hope you're enjoying this fic so far. I really adore hearing feedback, both constructive and positive. It's always nice to know people are reading and enjoying! And not gonna lie, reviews are extremely motivating too. I'm basically a Yamcha-slut for comments, lol, how low I've sunk! ;P
Thanks to those who have already left messages, keep 'em coming ;) You guys are my heroes.
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