Everything Happens For a Reason
Chapter One
more plausible wit iit is forced
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2003-06-09T10:51:00Z
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Everything Happens For A Reason
Disclaimer: DBZ does not belong to me.
Chapter One
The sun was setting as she revved the engine of Capsule bike
number fifteen for the final time. In truth it had been fixed for over an hour,
but her thoughts had lingered for longer. Shaking her head Bulma lifted her leg
and dismounted the beautiful machine. Flicking the mirror on one side, she
checked her face and using her thumb, tried to degrease her right cheek. It was
never going to work. She gave up and picking up the remaining tools in an old
rag decided to call it a night. The last of the light was fading over the edge
of a crimsoned horizon, and as she turned the lights off and set the alarm
one-handed, long shadows hid the bike, the chrome accessories the only reminder
it still remained.
She placed her foot
cautiously on the wall as she balanced her makeshift tool bag whilst trying to
close the shutter. Her garage was set aside from the main buildings in a little
plot of land that was also far enough away from the factories to give her
enough privacy when she chose to be alone. This seemed to be far more of a
common retreat since her return than it had ever been before. Perhaps it was
all those days she had spent alone on Namek that had done it. She had never
been so in tune with her own mind that was for sure.
She felt the rag slipping long before the wrench made its
escape and clanged noisily to the floor! “Damn!” she cursed; rubbing the toe it
had caught before hitting concrete.
“And the damned.”
Did she really hear it or was it a thought on the wind. She
turned half an inch, and peered over her shoulder. “Shit!” Bulma tried to stop
her heart palpitating. “Vegeta… You scared the living crap out of me!”
There was no reply. The engulfing of shadow was almost too
cold this late in the evening, despite the time of year. It muddled over
Vegeta’s face in just such a way as to remind her of a horror movie. Yeah… just
what she didn’t want to be thinking! Time to lighten the mood. “Sorry, I
forgot. You like to scare the crap out of people.”
She fhis his power in the bristling of the hairs on her
neck. “You presume to know me after only a few short days?”
“No presumptions at all. I wouldn’t have offered you to stay
if that were the case.”
She cleared bangs from her face as the wind picked up,
subconsciously tugging the open length of her overalls back over the shoulder.
Was it her imagination or did the temperature drop even more under his
presence. “Well what can I do for you?” she asked, suddenly feeling very
vulnerable. What if he chose to do anything to her here? There was no one to
call for help. Yeah right. Like anyone could help anyway.
“Who says I want anything from anyone as insignificant as
you?”
“No one!” she replied - indignant. Closing her eyes she
calmed her temper and breathed out the remaining annoyance. It was times like
this that she should remember just what he really represented. She had to
control her anger, after all was said and done he was a guest, and she had to
behave as a hostess should, no matter how much her temper reproached her for
it. “I’m sorry. I hope you’re finding the Capsule Corporation to your liking.”
He paused for a moment, almost looking unsure if he should
speak. Perhaps he thought it was beneath him to do so. Bulma wasn’t sure. “It
would do better to have somewhere to train.” He offered with a shrug.
“Didn’t dad show you around the gym?” she asked, mortified
that anything in her home wasn’t considered up to standard.
“He did, but do you really expect me to train in that
cardboard box? I would demolish it doing even the simplest of workouts. Now I
honestly couldn’t care less what happens to the building, but I need something
of permanence whilst I prepare for Kakarrot’s return. There is no point in
having a room one day, only to have to find another the next.”
Good, thought Bulma, a problem - something to focus on. “Why
not train in the woods or the desert. Son-kun did it all the time.”
He looked confused. “Son-kun?”
“Yeah… you know… Goku.”
His look changed to disgust. “You expect an elite warrior
and crown prince of one of the most formidable empires ever known to sentient
kind, to adopt the habits of a lowly, third-class, peace-loving, retard? A
soldier, that had my planet still existed, wouldn’t even have had the honour of
licking my boots! Preposterous! I have always trained in well-regulated and
highly efficient power chambers, fitted with force fields to reflect my energy
back at me rather than destroying the structure I reside in. You will provide
me with such.”
Bulma made a mental note to avoid Goku’s name in future.
“Whoa… back up there bud. Force fields?”
He nodded.
“You mean as in the same thing used to protect the space
pods?”
A grunt. She took it mean yes.
“That’s interesting. Ok for a large spherical object, I
could adjust it to give small localized bursts but you want it with enough
energy to bounce back one of your attacks?”
Another nod.
“On what kind of particle placement setting?”
“It would have to be interchangeable, I don’t want to have
to worry about regulating my power… at all. It would also have to be suitable
for any power increases. Do you have the technology to achieve this?”
“Hmm not really. I mean the ship we travelled to Namek in
had a rudimentary force field generator, but it was only on a tri-metric
rotation. The buffers couldn’t control excess amounts of negative energy and
overloaded if it wasn’t regulated.”
“That would be no good in a training room. You could not
afford to have gaps. You need biconforcinal dampeners, which constantly adapt
to the frequency output.”
“Hey, yeah! That could work, but then how would I be able to
conf… fig…?” Bulma’s mind went blank. She was momentarily stunned into silence.
She was so used to bouncing ideas off her fathers great mind that she had
started to answer, as though on autopilot, but this wasn’t her father. Had
Vegeta really just understood and offered her a creditable and revolutionary
solution, as though it was no moment, or was she dreaming?
“Is something the matter?” he inquired with dry sarcasm.
Something about the way he was looking at her, told her not
to push this newly found information. But here was another spike in his
character. Perfect - even more for her to explore and her genius schemed in
anticipation to see if his mind was as gifted as his body.
“Sorry… um, no I’m fine. I was just wondering how I would
configure so much data and all the variables, I kind of space out at times, but
I guess I can work all the intricacies out in my own time.”
“Then… you will build it for me?”
She tried to sound calm and business like. “I suppose. It
will be interesting to see what I can come up with…”
There was silence as Bulma tried to think uninterrupted. It
would be a huge undertaking, but it gave her the excuse to get close to Vegeta,
more work to lose herself in and another potentially marketable invention to
add to the Capsule Corporation catalogue.
“How soon?”
Bulma was thrown out of her thoughts. “How soon what?”
“How soon can you get it done?”
“I dunno… at a rough guess. Three weeks - maybe a little
longer depending on the materials I’ll need.”
There was a pause. Bulma wasn’t sure why Vegeta hadn’t
responded. She was about to push the matter when she saw the tinges of blue
flicker around his body. Suddenly feeling very insignificant Bulma was struck
immobile. Vegeta’s fists clenched angrily at his sides. Her emotion could be
defined now as she too a step back - it was fear, and it clogged her throat.
“S… s… sorry Vegeta, but that’s the best I can do, without cutting into my
office time.”
“Then cut it!” he demanded, with what appeared to be barely
contained restraint. “My training is top priority and I have gone without it
for too long. It will be months before Kakarrot is wished back!”
“Vegeta Ouji…” She hoped the use of his proper title might
ply him into reasonableness, he was a lose canon at best, and Bulma wasn’t
entirely sure how to deal with him yet. “…Uh…” She sighed. It was no use trying
to convince him. She wouldn’t cut work for it, but it was logical to deal with
his temper when she knew better how to curb it. For now, compliance was the
only option. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll work towards two weeks.”
He seemed pleased with her deference. Well… as pleased as
Vegeta would probably ever look, which in truth was not very. “Very well then…
let it be so, now out of my way ningen!”
He pushed roughly past.
“Hey, wait… you can’t go yet.”
His feet stopped. “And why the hell not?”
“Because,” she smiled, “you haven’t said thank you.”
Bulma looked hopeful, maybe she could push a little for
manners. It wouldn’t hurt to see how much she had to work with. Unfortunately
all she got was a slab of Saiyajin back as he walked haughtily away, laughing
cruelly with every step.
She stood on the cold lawn, watching him as he slowly
levitated towards the second floor balcony, not totally dissatisfied with the
conversation. The last of his biting laughter still whispered on the wind.
“Well…” She said to the sky, somewhat dryly, “At least he has a sense of
humour.”
Making sure the contents were properly secured this time,
she wrapped the rag over itself and headed towards the main house.
As usual her mum was hanging over the stove. The kitchen
almost looked industrial there was so much going on! The smell was more than
inviting, a mixture of spices and freshly cooked meat, diffusive in conjunction
with her mother’s soft humming and the whir of an extractor fan.
“Hey mum!” she greeted, “You need a hand?”
Mrs Brief turned to face her daughter, but only made it half
way before putting a hand up in exclamation. “Yes I do, but you aren’t coming
any closer until you’ve had a shower Bulma. I can’t see anything of you under
all that oil.”
Bulma giggled. “Um… yeah… I guess I got a bit carried away.
Oh wow you should see it mum! It runs like a dream and the accessories… oh man!
I can’t wait to test it out for real. I bet it goes like shiiii… um… Well let’s
just say I think it’s going to break records.”
“Well that’s nice dear. Dinner will be ready in about
fifteen minutes. I think we’ll go up to the botanical level again tonight.
Those cute little green men you brought back with you are just the sweetest of
company. I have a game of poker scheduled with Morely. He was so sweet about
losing last night that I thought it was only fair to give him one more try, and
besides I want to see if I can tempt him and his friends to a little roast
beef. You know they haven’t touched a thing since they’ve been here. What would
the women at the group say if they found out I was starving my guests?”
“Mum!” Bulma was exasperated and chuckling at the same time.
Poor Morely! It was a good job that they weren’t playing for money. He’d be
broke. Her mum was a diva at poker. “Don’t beat yourself up over it ok?
Namekians don’t eat. I don’t think that constitutes as starving. They just
don’t need the same nutrients we do.”
“It passes me!” she exclaims, “But if you say its ok for
them Bulma then I’ll take your word for it. Now dear me look at the time, you
had better shower now or you’ll never be ready.”
“Ok, I’m going.”
“Then go!”
Bulma chuckled. “I’m gone!”
She bustled out of the room, her mother almost pushing her
along. The hall was dark, but with the mirror of red that still haloed the city
it wasn’t necessary to turn the light on. It was a shame to block out such
wonderful natural light. This was in truth her favourite time of the day. It
really was a shame that her mother wanted to eat indoors. Still it had been a
bit too chilly outside to be comfortable.
In true Briefs fashion, she was able to shower, change and
drag her frame downstairs well before it was time to eat. Multitasking it was
said, was genetic in the females of her family, and it was displayed to full
effect as Bulma walked calmly down the stairs at the same time as drying her
hair with a towel and reading a worn paperback version of “Pride and
Prejudice.”
When she reached the kitchen she found it empty save for the
large collen ofn of food that graced the large wooden table. Laying the towel
on the back of a chair, she sat down in quiet to continue reading whilst she
still had a little time to herself. The pages were already well known to her.
In fact, if called upon, she could probably recite them by heart. It was an old
favourite and one of the first classic novels she had read. She was a romantic
by nature, and she revelled in the musty pages.
She had been seated this way for ral ral minutes before she
was called to attention by the soft padding of feet behind her. Laying the book
carefully down, she looked to the door to see who was there. “Hey Dende.” She
smiled, “Mum send you?”
“No,” he said shyly, “I offered… I… I wanted to leave. It
feels odd, being up there.”
“Why?”
He looked to the floor, shifting his feet uncomfortably.
“What’s the matter kiddo? Don’t you like it here?”
He bowed once. “I love it here, you have a very beautiful
home Bulma. It’s just that Vegeta…”
“Vegeta’s up there huh?”
“I’m sorry.” He apologised, “I know he’s your guest. I
shouldn’t be so rude, but…”
“But,” she continued for him, “You still feel weird being
around him?”
He looked so solemn. “Yes… its wrong isn’t it? I he he did
help us on Namek. It’s unfair for me to be so suspicious of him.”
Bulma smiled. It was in actual fact a relief to know that
someone else felt vaguely similar towards the Saiyajin no Ouji. Using a foot
she pushed out a chair for him and urged him to sit down. “It’s not wrong
Dende. Vegeta’s done a lot of bad stuff in his life. It’s natural for a heart
as good as yours to be wary of his motives. In fact it shows that you have a great
awareness. For your age its really quite remarkable.”
“Bulma?” he asked, “Does he scare you?”
She laughed, “Oh yeah he does, but don’t tell him I said so.
Its our secret.”
“But you still talk to him the same way you do to me… how?”
“Wow! You’re pulling out all the hard questions tonight
aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” he started, “if you don’t feel comfortable
talking about it, I…”
“No it’s fine. I don’t know I guess I see him as a problem
to figure out. But I know I’m not going to solve it if I think too hard on what
I already know he is. Does that make sense?”
The young Namekian looked blankly.
“I guess not.” Bulma replied with a nervous laugh. “Well
lets go straight to the facts then shall we? He helped us on Namek right?”
“Right.”
“Do you know why?”
Dende nodded. “At first I thought it was because he wanted
the dragonballs. He did, but the wish he wanted to make was for immortality. He
believed it was the only way he would be able to kill Frieza.”
Bulma picked up a
stray sandwich and offered a glass of water to Dende. He drank eagerly. “And
why did he want Frieza dead?”
Dende paused a moment. “Piccolo-san said he overheard Vegeta
talking to Goku about it right before he died. He said that Frieza destroyed
Vegeta’s home planet, killed his father and his race, and then forced him into
servitude.”
Bulma frowned, but continued softly. “Did… did Piccolo say
how he looked… emotionally that is?”
“Yes, but that’s the part I just can’t get my head around.
At first I wasn’t sure if Piccolo was joking, but he said that there were tears
in Vegeta’s eyes when he spoke. He was adamant that he saw them, real tears.
Isn’t that peculiar?”
“Yes and no.” Bulma looked thoughtfully at the table.
“That’s exactly what Gohan said.”
After a pause Dende asked. “What do you think it means?”
“Well I can’t be certain, but I’d like to think it means
that he’s not completely evil. I mean just think about it Dende. Wouldn’t it be
amazing if… if… well maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I can’t help but
wonder why he would betray Frieza if there wasn’t motive. I think all he ever
wanted to do was avenge his people, he just got a little warped along the way.”
“You’re confusing me… so you’re saying there’s definitely
some good in him?”
“Yeah maybe a little, a very little, but then I guess its
all my assumption. I have been known to be wrong occasionally - very occasionally.
Psychology wasn’t one of my best subjects, but then he hasn’t hurt anyone other
than Gohan since we got wished back, and then he didn’t take it very far. It
was as though he was trying to show everyone that he was the strongest and once
he had ascertained there was no one who could stop him – it didn’t matter. Why
do you think that is?”
“You’re asking the hard questions now Bulma.” He smiled.
“Well I think its because we’re not important enough.”
Dende didn’t look convinced by this. “I don’t think that
will make me sleep any easier tonight.”
“But don’t you see. It means we’re safe. You’ve been here a
week and with him on Namek for slightly longer. What do you think his main
objectives are now?”
“To get stronger.”
Bulma winked and smiled. “Bingo! And its Goku he’s after
right?”
Dende agreed – it was hard not to when Bulma was in full
flow.
“So I’m providing him with a means to get stronger and a home
that he knows Goku will eventually return to. Does he have any reason to kill
us?”
“No… does he need one?”
“If we’re right and there is some good in him, then yes. So
far so good right? As long as we don’t give him reason I don’t think he’ll be
killing anyone anytime soon. Just try and be nice to him. No matter how much he
might throw it back in your face. Remember that he has more important
objectives when you speak to him. Don’t let him know you’re scared. He gets a
kick out of it. It only took a few minutes back on earth to work that one out.”
She kicked back, putting her legs on the table. Dende still
didn’t look thoroughly convinced, but there was a little more confidence in his
demeanour than there had been before. Bulma hoped that their talk had helped.
It had her. She had no idea that she had learnt so much about him after only
one week. It was quite scary really.
“Well this is cosy!” The voice came from the door.
Startled, Bulma almost fell backwards. “Mum!” she exclaimed,
“Don’t do that to me!”
“Do what to you dear? Oh!” she gushed, finally seeing the
young Namekian, “There you are Dende. I wondered where you had got to.”
He looked very guilty. “I’m very sorry Mrs Brief. I’ll help
you straight away!” He bowed in way of an extra apology, and picked up several
plates. Bulma did the same and the whole procession filed up the sweeping
stairs and into the service lift.
The doors opened with a ping and they all walked out onto
the elegant and sprawling patio. The smell of cherry blossom and roses filled
the air as they walked the short distance to the group of chairs that
accommodated the majority of the relocated Namekian race. Bulma was about to
lay her consignment on the table when her mother stopped her.
“Oh no Bulma!” she exclaimed as though Bulma were about to
commit some heinous crime. “Those are for the prince!”
Bulma looked confused for a moment. “Oh… right… Vegeta!” She
looked down at the plates and up at her mum as though doing the math. “All of
them?”
“Oh my! Don’t you think there are enough?”
“I…”
“Dear lord, you’re right! He’s a prince… he’ll need extra.
Do you think I should go back and make some more?”
“No!” Bulma interrupted in indignation, “Have you cooked
like this for him every night?”
“Oh Bulma! Don’t be so silly. Of course not! We ordered in
on Tuesday and Friday. I think he liked the pizza’s.”
“Pizza’s? As in more than one?”
“Well of course. You know he’s just the same as Goku-san. I
think all Saiyajins must have very healthy appetites.”
Bulma frowned. “Expensive is the word I’d use.”
“Oh come now. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”
“Mum, sometimes its too easy for us to get carried away with
money. I don’t want to be one of those women that doesn’t know how much a pint
of milk costs!”
“And giving Vegeta a few extra helpings is going to ruin
that?”
Bulma sighed, “I’m being unreasonable again, aren’t I?”
Mrs Brief tittered slightly, “Well maybe… just a little. So
are you going to give him the roast or are you going to wait until it goes
stone cold?”
She rolled her eyes. “God forbid that the Saiyajin no Baka
should come and get the food himself!” She looked about. “Where is he anyway?
Dende said he was h but but I don’t see him.”
Mrs Brief looked confused. “Goodness! I don’t know. He was
here when I left.”
“Dende?” Bulma asked. “Can you find Vegeta for me?”
“Sure!” He closed his eyes, glowing a vivid yellow as he
concentrated. A blush spread across his cheeks.
“What is it Dende?”
“Um… I think he’s in your bedroom Bulma-san.”
“WHAT!” Bulma almost dropped the tray of food. “Why the
little pervert! What the hell is he doing in my room?”
Dende looked ashamed. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been taut mind
reading Bulma, not yet. Morely says I’m still too young, besides it’s rude to
do it without the person knowing.”
“Well then!” she huffed, thoroughly pissed off. “I’ll just
have to go up there and find out myself, won’t I? The cheek of some people, you
give them a room, feed them and this is the thanks you get!”
Bulma continued in this way, spiting obscenities in an incomprehensible
mumble, until she had long left the botanical level. Indeed, she was half way
up the stairs to her private section of the house, before the tirade quietened.
When she finally arrived at the large lacquered doors of her living space, she
suddenly felt veervoervous. She paused. Was that the patter of wet feet on
tiles she heard, being accompanied as it was by the trickle of her shower?
Now she was unsure what to do. Did snocknock? She fumed at
her own doubt. It was her room. She didn’t need to knock. He was the one
who was out of line! Oh man she was angry! Practically kicking the door down
she stormed into the room.
There was shock, debilitating for what seemed like a decade,
as she fully digested what had happened.
“All my things!” she screamed, looking at the pile of
clothes shoes and beauty products, flung in a heap over one side of the room.
Her photo and pressed flower collection had gone the same way, along with the
majority of her stuffed toys. “VEGETA!”
The scream echoed in the now almost empty room, and a young
sparrow was scared from its perch on the windowsill. Once all was still again,
there was a squeak as the shower was turned off, and footsteps resumed. They
were slow and deliberate, befitting an eerie portend. Bulma, however, was too
angry to care.
The door opened a fraction and a back draft of steam came
flooding out. Engulfed among its misted depth a silhouette could be seen - the
outline, unmistakable. As the hot air cooled, the Saiyajin prince could clearly
be seen leaning against the doorframe, with just a towel to hide his modesty.
Normally even with the towel Bulma would have blushed, but
her anger outshined everything else, inhibitions included. “YOU!” she
screeched, “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
The ghost ofmirkmirk caught his right lip before he caught
it. “Taking a shower. What does it look like?”
“I can SEE that!” she fumed, “Why are you doing it here. In
MY room?”
“Because,” He replied firmly, “I prefer these quarters. They
are more appropriately situated and decorated than mine. Larger too.” He added
with an after thought. “I choose to reside in this portion of the house from
now on.”
“Now wait just a minute! This is my room Vegeta. You can’t
just waltz in here as if you own the place. I’m sure mum will be more than
happy to redecorated your living quarters if they are not to your liking, but
this room belongs to me.”
“Look.” He said, his posture exuding authority. “I couldn’t
give a shit whose quarters these are. I like them, the view is much better and
so long as I am the strongest being on this mud ball then I will take what I
like.” His smirk was full blown now. Bulma could see how much he was enjoying
throwing his power around. He looked her up once and then back down again. “Of
course, you are more than welcome to share. Once the training room is
functioning the only thing missing to this place will be the harem. You might
prove useful as a whore.”
&nb
B
Bulma was fuming. She could feel the beginnings of her
usually sharp tongue, curving into words.
“Do you have an issue with that?” He continued, his voice
practically laughing.
“Issue… ISSUE!” she screamed, balling her hands into fists.
“Hell yeah I have an issue with it! I am not a whore!”
“Oh really?” He affirmed, pushing off from the door and walking
towards her. When he was right in front he used the index finger of his right
hand to pull at the hemline of the short red dress she was wearing. “You dress
like one.”
Bulma was mortified! “This is an a hundred and fifty zenni
designer dress! Not a ten zenni rag!”
He chuckled. “Does prostitution have a price barrier?”
“Ugh! You arrogant stuck up little prick! If anyone’s the
whore… it’s you! Look what you’re wearing!”
The smirk was lost. Anger was its replacement. “What did you
just call me?”
Bulma put her hands on her hips, but a portion of her mind
was wondering what the hell she was doing? What was she saying to Dende
earlier, not to get him riled? Again he managed to elicit fear, but she’d be
damned if she’d let him see as much.
“I called you an arrogant stuck up little prick. Do you have
the issue now?”
He calmed a little. The smirk was back.
“No issue at all.” He let the ghost of a ki ball flicker
into the hand he had used to pull her dress with. “Nothing is of issue, when
you can merely eliminate it.” He lifted his hand, letting the power illuminate
his face. “Now what was it you called me?”
“You wouldn’t!” she spat defiantly.
“Wouldn’t I?” He used his free hand to push her roughly to
the wall. “And what makes you so secure in that?”
Her head hit a little more violently than was easily
ignored, but Bulma did her best to hide the fact he had injured her.
“What use am I to you as a whore if I’m dead?”
Bulma couldn’t believe what she was saying, but something
about the way he was being so demanding was intriguing her, and she knew the
only way to stop him carrying out his threat was to confuse him. The surest way
to do it with any man was to play on his hormones.
He chuckled low in the throat. “I thought you said you
weren’t a whore?”
His reply wasn’t entirely calm, but Bulma was able to breath
a sigh of relief. The ki ball was gone.
“I’m not, but it would be a shame to lose such a body. Don’t
you think?”
He looked perplexed at her words. “I don’t see anything more
appealing than I have seen in a hundred pleasure slaves. You place too much
value on aesthetics onna.”
“Who was the one that preferred these rooms to his own? I
think you have an eye for things of beauty Ouji. What do you say?”
“Things of beauty… perhaps, but that is not what I see.”
Ok… now that was overstepping the mark.
“What! I’ll have you know that I could have any man on this
planet if I so wished.”
“Not any!” he chuckled.
“Well I don’t class you as a man. You’re a Saiyajin and you
wouldn’t know what the hell you’re talking about, now get out of my rooms!”
“No!”
“Ok… this is just getting ridiculous.”
Bulma wasn’t sure how they were going to get over this. “You
really like the view that much?”
“I…” he looked unsure whether he should continue. “I like to
see the stars at night. All I can see from my bedchamber windows are the
factories.”
Bulma calmed down. She forgot how unused he was to human
protocol. “Then you should have just asked Vegeta. Look…”
She scooted past his impressive frame, opened a door and
walked into her private living space. It was a separate area from the main
house and was her own little sanctuary. There was a living room, complete with
all the luxuries. She was proud of it. There was the latest style plasmalevilevision at the front, a large stereo with obligatory surround sound to the
left and her work desk and PC in the corner. At the back was a small kitchen
area, with every amenity necessary.
Navigating her way around the plush leather sofa, she
continued to an inter-joining door on the other side. Typing a code into the
small electronic lock, the door hissed open, and they were instantly escorted
into a large second bedroom.
“This is my guestroom.” She smiled, as Vegeta looked around.
“If friends have ever wanted to stay over, then they usually use this room.
Krillin stayed here for a good five months when he was looking for work and
needed somewhere in the city to stay, and Yamcha used it before we became more
than friends.” She sighed, “I miss having someone to share with. If you really
want to move from your current room, then you’re more than welcome to have this
one.”
Vegeta was standing a little distance in front, looking out
over the balcony as though contemplating his decision. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch!” she reassured, “Other than having to put up with
a lot more of me than normal.”
He chuckled. “I would have thought that, that was
catch enough.”
Bulma didn’t think the comment was supposed to bite as much
as it did and so let it slide. “What do you say?”
“Very well. This room is adequate.”
“Good! So my room is off limits ok?”
“You’re a strange creature onna, this room is much larger.”
“And there’s a Jacuzzi in the bathroom as well, that’s the
trouble though, it’s too big. I have been known to use the Jacuzzi from time to
time though.”
“Fine. I will allow you to keep your pathetic room, but I
want equal use of the living area.”
“Not a problem, but no messing about with my computer.”
“You’re backward technology is below my notice.”
There was silence for a while, only interrupted by the
growling of Vegeta’s stomach.
“Hungry?” Bulma laughed.
Vegeta just scowled.
“Dinners all ready, downstairs.”
Not saying a word, Vegeta gave his new quarters one more
going over before leaving the same way he had entered. Bulma followed, pleased
with how things had worked out. Maybe the Saiyajin no Ouji was easier to
placate than she had at first thought. His temper was priceless, and not as
closed to manipulation or pushing as she had first imagined. There was
something very intriguing in being able to mould it.
It was at that moment that Bulma realized that maybe she
wouldn’t have to tread so carefully around Vegeta. Even more odd was the
realization that it had even been quite fun. Now if only she could shake off
the headache!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hope you enjoyed this. Chapter two will be out soon.