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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
- 25
- 26
- 27
Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets
Ch.26 - Attack

She panicked. Bulma turned, making a break for the door. She was able to pry it open a few inches before a hand slammed into her back, shoving her forward, shutting the door with a bang and killing what little hope she had to escape. Then the hand grabbed her shirt and wrenched her back, throwing her across the room where she fell to the floor. She hit the base of the bed with a painful thud.
Dazed, she stared up at Zarbon, fear flooding her, paralyzing.
Zarbon chuckled, standing in front of the door to block any further attempts of escape and looked at her with contempt, eyeing her up and down with sunken eyes. “I suppose it makes sense he’d be banging someone like you, all tiny and helpless, just like he was. Trust Vegeta to want to protect something, since he couldn’t ever protect himself. Pathetic. No matter, I’ll get from you what he’s clearly incapable of doing and I’ll show Frieza who’s more worthwhile to keep around.”
Bulma huddled back against the side of the bed, her heart pounding. She was trapped. She didn’t know what Zarbon was rambling about, she only cared that he was dangerous, violent, and appeared to be on the verge of a psychological melt down with her right in his crosshairs.
She needed Vegeta; physically she was no match for Zarbon, but Vegeta was. However Vegeta was all the way across the other side of the house, in the front yard no less, completely unaware that she was being attacked. Five minutes, that’s what she’d told him. Was Vegeta watching the time? Would he notice if she didn’t return? He might simply think she’d gone to bed, he might not even check up on her right away, or at all… it could be hours before she saw him again… Hours that Zarbon could do anything to her, take her anywhere, and she’d be helpless to stop him. Bulma felt herself start to shake, afraid.
“Vegeta’s right behind me,” she lied, her voice breathless with panic. She hoped the threat would be enough to make Zarbon leave.
He only leered at her, his eyes wild. “I hope so. I want him to see what I’m about to do to you. I want to watch his goddamn face as I ruin everything he has, like he ruined everything I had.”
Bulma looked up at him in terror, the color draining from her face as she realized his intentions. He stared back down at her, cold and merciless. It hit her like a truck; she was staring at her death, and he would make sure it wouldn’t be a pleasant one.
“VEGETA!” she screamed, staggering to her feet and running to the bedroom window to throw it open, her only hope that the wind would catch her voice and send it to him across her family’s huge property. “HELP ME, VEG-” she screamed as she tried to climb out but was cut off when Zarbon grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her back, throwing her violently onto her bed. Bulma cried out in terror as he followed her. She started backing up as he crawled up the length of the bed, and she lashed out at him with her feet. She kicked at his face but he dodged, taking her foot harmlessly in the shoulder. He grabbed her ankle and pinned it down.
She shrieked with outrage and fear. She was trapped, she was trapped, and he was touching her and oh god, she couldn’t get away!
Wild with terror, Bulma kicked out with her other leg, only to have it also caught in Zarbon’s powerful fingers and pinned down, her legs spread-eagled on the bed, Zarbon grinning maniacally at her. “O-ho, I’m going to enjoy this,” he purred.
Bulma started sobbing. Ashamed, terrified, she grabbed the pillows on the bed and threw them at Zarbon, her hands desperately searching for anything to get him to retreat, if only for a moment, so that she could get away. He slid his hands up her legs, keeping them spread wide as he moved up the length of her body, coming closer.
Bulma screamed, thrashing, trying to break free but to no avail, his grip like iron. “GET OFF ME, DON’T TOUCH ME YOU CREEP!” she screamed hysterically. Her hand latched onto something solid - her bedside lamp had fallen over in her struggles. She grabbed it and threw it at Zarbon with all her might. He had to let her go to bat the lamp away from his face.
“Fucking cunt,” he swore. Bulma didn’t hesitate. She scrambled for the edge of the bed and was half off it when Zarbon pulled her back and smacked her hard across the face. His slap stung, making her reel, bringing fresh tears of pain to her eyes and the sweet taste of blood to her mouth. “You’re going to regret that,” he growled at her, pissed that she’d almost got him. He moved, putting his knees on her legs, pinning her down with his full weight. It hurt. She whimpered, holding her stinging cheek and looking up at him in growing horror.
He started to unbuckle his belt.
Something broke inside of her. All her genius, all her vehement words, all her family’s wealth wasn’t going to get her out of this. It was humbling, and terrifying, and she’d never felt so helpless in all her life. “P-please don’t do this,” she heard herself begging, as fat tears ran down her cheeks, and she hated herself for having broken so easily. Vegeta would be disgusted with her.
“Save the begging for when your boyfriend is here,” Zarbon replied coldly as if reading her mind. “He should get a kick out of it, hearing your whimpering as I fuck you.”
Despite her panic, Bulma felt her brows pull down into a scowl, suddenly filled with more hate than she thought herself possible of feeling. Zarbon disgusted her in every way a person possibly could, and if he was going to hurt her, then she was going to let him know exactly what she thought about him. “He’s twice the man you are,” she spat, trembling in rage, her voice holding strong despite her fear. “No wonder Frieza favors him over you.”
Zarbon froze, his hand paused on his fly. His face twisted into rage at her words, and he leaned forward, pressing more of his weight into her, forcing her to bite back a pained cry. “What does a trust-fund slut like you know of Frieza?” he snarled. His eyes roamed her body splayed before him, before darting back to her face. His mouth split into a disquieting smirk. “Why do you think I’m even here? Why do you think your little boyfriend is even here? For you?” Zarbon laughed cruelly.
Bulma felt her lip quiver. She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand. H-he loves me, and he’s going to b-break you when he finds you,” she threatened, but her bravery was faltering.
Zarbon’s eyes flashed with a malicious amusement, seeing her crumble. He leaned in closer. “Not if I break you first. Think he’ll want you then? Vegeta hates to share you know, doubt he’ll give you the time of day after I’ve ruined your hot little body.”
Bulma hissed in rage, if only to hide how terrified she was. She lashed out, one last, desperate attempt, but Zarbon caught her hands and shoved them above her head. She started screaming, curses and insults and for Vegeta, anything, anything that came to her mind because it was the only thing left for her to do. Zarbon snarled and his hand snaked out, his long fingers wrapping around her throat. He squeezed, and Bulma’s eyes bulged as her air was cut off and her words effectively stopped. She struggled, but he had her pinned at her legs and arms, helpless beneath him, helpless to stop him. He’d taken everything from her. She was helpless…
He leaned in, whispering against her ear as he slowly choked her. “Your precious Vegeta has been a thorn in my side for far too long. I should have been serving at Frieza’s side all these years, not babysitting some military brat! Making him suffer was the only solace I had, but you took even that from me when you lured him here. If he really does love you, then I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds you, used, dead, under his new roof.”
Bulma felt tears trail down the sides of her face as she gasped for air. Zarbon’s hand squeezed tighter, and he leaned his weight into her, choking her fully. She gagged, unable to breath, her mouth opened uselessly. Think, think she begged herself, but nothing came to mind. CAN’T BREATHE, CAN’T BREATHE was all she could process, and she stared up at Zarbon in horror but he didn’t give. He was going to kill her. She struggled but she was already weakening, feeling her strength fade and her face grow hot as she suffocated. Stars of light clouded her vision, her heart thundered loudly in her ears, dulling all other sounds. She convulsed, her body demanding the air she couldn’t get, that he wouldn’t give her. As she felt the last of her strength leave, she scrunched her eyes closed, not wanting the last thing she saw to be Zarbon’s maniacal grin.
There was a loud bang.
Zarbon’s hand was ripped from her throat. Air. Bulma wheezed loudly, sucking in painful, gasping breaths of air. She coughed, taking hacking breaths and rolled to her side, clutching the sheets as she struggled to draw in enough oxygen through her crushed windpipe. The pounding in her ears began to lessen, replaced now by a different beat, the sound of a scuffle.
Vegeta and Zarbon were grabbing each other, throwing the other about the room. The bedroom door was flung wide open, broken at the handle from where Vegeta had bust in with extreme force. The two boys snarled as they attacked, slamming each other hard into walls and furniture as they violently fought. This was no respectful MMA bout, this was savage and aggressive, each man intent on breaking the other, on killing the other. Nothing less would do.
Bulma watched in terror, terrified at their brutal strength, terrified for Vegeta. Zarbon tried to crack his elbow into Vegeta’s face, but Vegeta dodged, slamming his palm into Zarbon’s gut in retaliation. Zarbon wheezed and stumbled back, clutching his gut. He looked up at Vegeta, and grinned. “Heh… I think I get it now. No wonder you like her, she even tastes expensive,” he snarked.
Vegeta snarled. He darted in, grabbing Zarbon’s long hair and he held Zarbon’d head as he brought his knee up, smashing it into Zarbon’s face. There was a sickening crunch. Zarbon’s legs trembled and gave out. Vegeta let him go, Zarbon crumpling to the floor. His nose was gushing blood, and he looked up at Vegeta, laughing brokenly.
“Hahaha, you s-stupid fuck, you really have fallen for her, haven’t you?” Zarbon laughed weakly, spitting out blood. “Frieza is going to-”
Vegeta didn’t let him finish. He threw a punch and smacked Zarbon down. Vegeta pursued, hitting him again, and again, and again until Zarbon stopped moving, only able to wheeze wretchedly. He looked up at Vegeta with a bloody smile. “Go on, little Prince, kill me. I know you’ve always wanted to.”
Vegeta raised his bloodied fist high to oblige, then paused. His chest was rising and falling, his arm trembling to deliver justice. He glared down at Zarbon, his lip curling in disgust.
“First one’s always the hardest,” Zarbon sneered.
Vegeta thinned his mouth and punched Zarbon in the jaw. Zarbon’s eyes rolled up and he went limp. Vegeta let his hand drop loosely to his side, and fell back on his heels. He slumped, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to get his breathing under control. Despite winning, he looked utterly defeated.
Vegeta suddenly stiffened and looked over to the bed, as if just remembering about Bulma. He staggered to his feet, his face contorting with worry as he moved over to her. “Bulma-”
She’d seen the whole fight, frozen in fear by it and still weak from her attack. She tried to push herself into a sitting position, and Vegeta helped her, gently grabbing her arms and sitting her up. His hands were slick with Zarbon’s blood.
His eyes frantically scanned her, checking for any serious injury. “Are you hurt? Did he…?”
His question broke the thin control she had been holding herself together with, and she broke down into tears, shaking her head and sobbing hard, ashamed, terrified and relieved all at once. She was still clutching her poor neck, and Vegeta brought his hand up to check it, but she saw his fingers coming for her, just like Zarbon’s had, and she flinched back with a small, frightened cry.
Vegeta pulled his hand back, alarmed. He looked at his hand between them, noticing the blood for the first time. He let her go as if her skin suddenly burned. He looked away, his mouth turning down with self loathing, his shoulders hunching, withdrawing into himself.
It’s not what she’d wanted, she hadn’t wanted to push him away, she’d only been startled. Before he could retreat completely, Bulma reached out and gripped his shirt, pressing her face into his chest. She felt him stiffen in surprise.
“…You’re not scared of me?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Bulma shook her head, still crying.
Slowly, Vegeta brought his hands up. She felt them wrap around her, hugging her tightly. He buried his face against her hair. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice small. Bulma pressed herself closer against him, relieved that he was holding her at last. In his arms, she was safe, protected. “My contact kept giving me the run around,” he explained. “But he finally confessed that Zarbon has been on some kind of bender, gone AWOL after getting in trouble for nearly killing me. I know Zarbon, I know he’d blame me for that. I ran up here as fast as I could…”
Bulma shook her head, not blaming him for taking so long to reach her. Vegeta had come, and helped her, that was the main thing. After several long minutes, she started to calm down, getting over the shock of the attack. She pulled her face back from his embrace, sniffling, and glanced fearfully over at Zarbon’s body. “Is he…”
“Dead? No, not yet,” Vegeta said, his voice grim, cold, as he looked at his childhood tormentor. Bulma’s fingers curled in Vegeta’s shirt.
“You’re not going to…?” she asked fearfully.
“No,” Vegeta admitted, but he didn’t sound pleased by the confession. “I won’t kill him. But I’ll do the next best thing.” Vegeta dug into his pocket and pulled out his Icejin cell. He called someone, and when they answered he said, “Yeah, it’s the Prince. I have a stray dog that needs medical attention… Yes … Collar reads ‘Zarbon’.”
There was silence where Vegeta listened to the other end of the line, then he gave them the Brief’s address and hung up. He put the phone away and looked at Bulma, his eyes searching her face. “Are you going to be okay? I have to carry him outside to be picked up.”
Bulma nodded numbly. She watched as Vegeta started to get up, but the thought of him leaving her alone right now, even for a minute, filled her with panic. Her breath hitched and she reached out, clinging to him tightly. He paused, putting his hands gently on her arms, his eyes searching hers, worried. “What is it?”
“I…” she started to say but her voice failed her. She was unable to express the deep fear she was feeling, humiliated, clingy. She was normally so strong, independent, but all that had been violated and she didn’t know what to do about it. This weakness was mortifying.
Vegeta seemed to guess her feelings. He squeezed her arms. “Come with me,” he suggested.
Bulma swallowed and nodded compliantly.
Vegeta went to fetch Zarbon’s body, heaving the raggedly breathing young man over his shoulder. He then came back and took Bulma’s hand, and he walked her out of her room and down the stairs to the front door.
They didn’t have to wait long before some nondescript car pulled up, and Vegeta headed down the path, dumping Zarbon in the backseat of the car. Bulma hovered by the front door, watching nervously. Inside the car, someone reached out and grabbed Vegeta’s arm. Alarmed, Bulma took a step forward, worried they were going to try and pull Vegeta in with them. But Vegeta barked something - she could hear his tone if not his words, - and then he yanked his hand back and slammed the car door shut. The car drove off, and Vegeta stomped back over to her, trying to ease his frustrated look before he reached her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice still hoarse.
Vegeta made a dismissive sound. “It’s nothing. Let’s go inside.” They went in and Vegeta shut and locked the front door. Bulma took a few steps towards the stairs before she realized he wasn’t following her. She turned to look at him.
Vegeta was leaning his brow against the door, hunched over it. His body was taught, looking stressed and worn thin. Bulma felt her throat constrict in a way that had nothing to do with her attack.
“Vegeta…?” she asked hesitantly, stepping towards him, putting her hand on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch from her touch, but he didn’t respond to it either.
“… I just sent a man to his death,” he confided softly.
Bulma felt her blood go cold. “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked, not sure she really wanted to know, her voice fragile and scared.
She could hear that he spoke through gritted teeth. “Zarbon went AWOL. You don’t just do that with the Icejin and get away with it.”
Which meant he was going to be executed. As much as she hated Zarbon, as much as he probably deserved it, it was still horrifying to consider. The Icejin were monsters. “Maybe they won’t…” she offered weakly.
“Yeah, maybe,” Vegeta agreed, his voice bleak. “But then he’ll wish they had killed him instead, or that I had.”
Bulma’s bottom lip trembled. “But… surely being beaten o-or tortured is better than being dead, right?” she asked uncertainly.
Vegeta gave a short, humorless laugh, amused by her naivety.
Bulma lowered her head, ashamed at herself for presuming to know anything about his world. She couldn’t fathom how conflicted he must be at handing over Zarbon. She put her arms around Vegeta’s waist and hugged him carefully from behind. He felt tense, and she thought she could feel him tremble as he breathed in, or perhaps she was the one who was shaking? Vegeta let her hold him for a moment before pulling out of her embrace, turning around and scooping her up in his arms before she could protest.
Bulma let him carry her, relieved to be close to him. She was feeling far more vulnerable and needy than usual, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him as he carried her upstairs. “Are you hurt?” she asked, wondering if he’d sustained any injuries in his fight with Zarbon.
“Tch, he was weak,” Vegeta replied sourly, his way of saying ‘no’. Despite his years of abuse at Zarbon’s hand, Vegeta didn’t sound pleased with Zarbon’s demise. Did Vegeta wish he’d killed Zarbon? Did he wish the fight had gone differently? She didn’t know, but she could see Vegeta was deeply unsettled.
He carried them towards the corridor where their bedrooms led. As he moved closer to hers, Bulma tensed, not wanting to return to the room where she’d been assaulted, but Vegeta walked right past it, taking them instead to the bathroom. He set her gently on the closed toilet seat, then set about washing the blood off his hands wetting a cloth to clean her of the blood he’d accidentally smeared on her. The cloth was cool, and his attentions gentle. After she was clean he opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a tube of medicinal cream. He crouched before her and gently applied it to her throat. Bulma felt her heart race at his nearness, touched by Vegeta’s tender ministrations. That he was being so sweet towards her despite his own emotional turmoil almost made her want to cry.
“You saved me,” she said suddenly, her soft voice breaking the silence. “Thank you.”
He frowned. His hand fell away from her throat, and he dropped his head, his shoulders hunching. His voice was thick when he spoke. “You should be cursing me. It’s my fault you were in any danger to begin with.”
Bulma’s throat constricted, hearing the self-loathing in Vegeta’s voice. She put her hand on his face and raised it so that she could meet his eyes. He looked at her, hesitantly, his black eyes riddled with guilt. She gave him a small, wet smile. “You’re my hero.”
His expression turned scornful. “I’m no hero, Bulma, believe me.”
“Vegeta,” she protested, and stubbornly bumped their heads together. “You are. My hero,” she repeated, slowly and firmly, leaving no doubt between them that she meant every word. “Heroes don’t have to be perfect. They just have to do what they think is right, and help others, and you’ve helped me countless times. I don’t care what other people think, or say, or even if you don’t believe it yourself. You’re my hero, Vegeta. End of discussion.”
He looked at her, his expression pained, clearly struggling with her words, struggling to reconcile her view of him with his own and the weight that her words carried. Bulma brought up her other hand up and cupped his face, still seeing his doubt, and she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
His eyes widened, startled. He searched her eyes, looking for something. “I thought you’d…” his voice trailed off.
“Thought what?” she pressed, brushing her thumbs over his sharp cheekbones.
His jaw clenched, and he rested his hands ever so lightly on her waist, as if afraid to break her. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be touched this way, after…”
“After Zarbon?” she asked.
Vegeta shook his head. “After seeing me nearly kill him. The look on your face when I tried to touch you…”
He thought he terrified her, disgusted her with his violence. And while the fight had been frightening, Bulma hadn’t been frightened of him, she’d been frightened for him. She shifted off the toilet seat to embrace Vegeta at the same level, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him. “I was terrified,” she admitted. “But not of you, Vegeta, you idiot. You’re the only one who makes me feel safe.”
Vegeta brought his arms up and crushed her against him, holding her tight, painfully tight, but she let him, needing to be held as much as he needed to hold her. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her all the way to his bedroom, laying her down on his bed. He braced himself above her, looking down at her with intense eyes. She could see something dark and burning in his gaze, a desperate need to prove something to her, to himself. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, his voice oddly gentle and subdued.
Bulma nodded, her heart beat picking up with anticipation. “I know. I trust you.”
Vegeta leaned in and kissed her, not as he usually did with hunger and lust, but sweetly, achingly careful. He stripped off her clothing a piece at a time, showering every inch of her revealed skin with kisses and gentle touches until Bulma was nothing but a languid, aching mess beneath him, utterly cherished, shivering in delight, whimpering for more. He took it slow, bringing her to the edge more than once as he worshiped her with his hands, his mouth, his body, and when he slipped inside of her it was in aching relief. When he came inside her, trembling and gasping her name in a heartbreaking sob, Bulma came with him, feeling a few tears sting the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed with emotions at the intensity of their love making.
Exhausted, Vegeta passed out almost immediately afterwards, lying beside her, his hand pressed to the flat of her stomach, holding her close. Bulma tried to fall asleep, but the tears that she had choked back started to fall, and she couldn’t get them to stop. Now, with nothing to distract her, her mind free to wander, she couldn’t help feeling their coupling had been more bitter than sweet. Despite the leisurely pace, there had been something off in Vegeta’s attentions, something too possessive, too desperate, his strange tenderness leaving her feeling an awful sense of dread…
It was as if he had been making love to her for the last time.
Her mind filled with doubts, a chaotic swarm, fearing the tournament tomorrow, fearing the attack she’d barely survived, fearing Vegeta’s secretive, distrustful nature, his self-loathing, his inability to believe that he was worthy of her, of her trust, of being her hero…
…Frieza says not to forget where your loyalties lie…
…I expect results and I expect them soon…
… He’s one of Frieza’s favorites, Zarbon too. You just have to mention their names to anyone in the know, and people will crap their pants…
…Why do you think your little boyfriend is even here? For you?…
…Zarbon went AWOL. You don’t just do that with the Icejin and get away with it…
…I’m no hero, Bulma, believe me…
She thought she knew Vegeta, but she realized now there was a large part of him that she’d never met, this so called ‘Prince’, the Icejin member. Who was he? How involved was he still with the Icejin? Involved enough that he was carrying around their cell phone, involved enough to be calling in favors, involved enough to not be considered AWOL…
She watched him sleep, watching the face of the young man she loved and cried silently to herself, disgusted at herself for her doubts, at Zarbon for encouraging them, and at Vegeta for not allaying them. She finally fell into an exhausted sleep, hours before the dawn of the tournament.
What was she to him?

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AN: …. I’m really, really excited to share the next couple of chapters with you guys. *Smirks* (& 27 is up on (p)atreon now already). Do you like spoilers? I made a shitty drawing of something that happens at the tournament in ch.27 if you’re curious…
Leave a review to let me know what you liked, what made your heart stop or melt or rage. I haven’t heard from some of you guys in a while, hope you lovely people are all doing well ;)
Follow me on twitter/tumblr if you so desire and feel free to say hi!
Also -oh my gosh guys- I’ve received some TRUELY AMAZING fanart for Friends from the following people: GalacticShark17, AlienaChan, Batcreditcard, VegetaPsycho, Rutbisbe and nelicquele79. Did I miss anyone? PLEASE NEVER BE SHY TO GIVE ME FANART. Feel free to harass the shit out of me until I see your work and rub it all over myself in glee. Btw, over on Archive of our Own, you can ADD PICTURES to your stories, so I’ve uploaded all the great fanart to my chapters there. Really wish FFnet had something like that…
-Lady Vegeets
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