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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets
Ch.04 - Schemes

The next Monday at school, Bulma was reading a university level text book that Mr. Popo had been kind enough to provide her with in class. As such, class went by much faster than usual and Bulma was actually able to learn something. When the bell rang she was surprised how quickly the time had gone. She packed up her things to head out. As she was leaving, someone tugged on her sleeve.
“Briefs.”
Bulma stopped and looked up at Vegeta. She tried not to let the surprise that he had addressed her show on her face. “Hey, Vegeta. What’s up?” She noticed everyone else had already left the class.
“Here,” he said, and shoved his hand out awkwardly at her, his hand fisted around something.
Bulma looked at it skeptically. “What’s that?”
“Money. For the steak,” Vegeta explained, as if it were obvious.
Bulma arched a brow. “I don’t need that.”
Vegeta blushed, looking aggravated that she wouldn’t take the cash. “I don’t want to owe you. Just take it, would you.”
Bulma laughed. Vegeta’s eyes widened, surprised. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” Bulma asked, amused at his ignorance. Vegeta scowled. “I’m from THE Briefs family,” she explained. “Aka, Capsule Corporation. Heard of it? We have more money than we could ever hope to spend, and trust me, we try pretty hard to do so. I don’t need you to pay for the steak.”
Vegeta’s lip curled. “And I don’t need hand outs from little rich bitches.”
Bulma’s laughter quickly died, her expression turning to shocked outrage. “Excuse me?!”
“You heard me,” Vegeta huffed. “Fine, don’t take my money if you’re too good to accept it. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I know what you think of me, what they all do. I’m some no good loser from a broken home that’ll amount to nothing. Well so what. I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need to be your pet project to fix because you’re feeling sorry for yourself that you and that worthless boyfriend of yours didn’t work out. I want nothing to do with it, or you. All I need to know is how I can pay you back for the steak so I don’t have to be indebted to you, and then I can be rid of you.”
Bulma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was livid, her heart pounding, her fists shaking.
“God, you’re so fucking arrogant and self centered, do you know that?” She shouted back. “If you don’t want people to misjudge you or pity you, maybe you should show them that you’re actually capable. Like, join a club, make some friends, ace a class, or I don’t know, maybe try not getting beat on for a week!”
“Tch, I could do that in my sleep,” Vegeta replied snidely.
Bulma raised a skeptical brow. “Oh really? You’ve been involved in a fight just about every day you’ve been at this school so far.”
Vegeta folded his arms across his chest. “Most of those were self defense.”
“That still counts!” Bulma said, exasperated. “Normal people don’t put themselves into situations where they need to defend themselves.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault?”
“That’s…. that’s not what I’m saying,” Bulma said, her anger deflating. She didn’t really know Vegeta’s situation, and she certainly didn’t want to sound like she was victim bashing.
“Whatever, Briefs. One week, no fights. Then my debt is paid, and you can leave me the fuck alone,” he snapped at her.
Bulma’s shoulders sagged, defeated. “Sure.”
Vegeta brushed past her, bumping her shoulder roughly as he left, leaving Bulma behind feeling hurt and empty.

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The next day, Vegeta was late to class. When he came in, he was wearing baggy clothes and a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. He shuffled in quickly and sat down before Bulma could get a good look at him. He kept his head lowered over his desk the entire lesson, and despite her glances, she couldn’t see his face the entire class.
When the bell rang, Vegeta was the first to leave. Bulma looked all over the cafeteria for him but couldn’t find him. That’s when she realized she’d never seen him eat in the cafeteria before. She wondered where he could be hiding during lunches. A thought struck her. The rooftop, it had to be. That’s probably how he’d discovered her that day she’d been crying over Yamcha. It made sense that Vegeta had been using the roof for his lunch periods, seeing as he liked to be alone. He must have stumbled upon her that day by accident when he went to eat lunch.
Bulma made sure there were no teachers about and headed up to the roof. Sure enough she saw him there, huddled on the ground, his knees pulled up, his head lowered, his cap hiding his face. He looked surprisingly fragile. Bulma approached and stopped before him, saying nothing, knowing her presence had been noticed by the way he tensed.
“Fuck off, Briefs,” he snapped at her, his deep, gravely voice breaking.
Bulma tried to swallow down a lump in her throat. Vegeta’s words and tone told her everything she needed to know. Her heart bled for him. She crouched down in front of Vegeta and reached for his hat.
Vegeta slapped her hand away and he looked up, glaring at her. “I said fuck off!” he yelled at her, but it was too late. She was able to see his face, and the extent of the damage. Vegeta had another black eye, a split lip, and a bandaid on his cheekbone. He hadn’t even been able to go a day without getting beat up. The fact that he tried to hide it from her told Bulma that it hadn’t been his own doing.
“Vegeta…”
“Don’t you dare,” he yelled, his eyes swimming with anger and self loathing. “Don’t you fucking dare pity me. I did this. I wanted this! Don’t you fucking… d-don’t you…” Vegeta’s voice trailed off, and he turned away to punch the wall behind him. Bulma winced. She fought back tears as she watched Vegeta struggle with himself.
He punched the wall a few more times until he left bloody smears from his abused knuckles. He sagged against the wall, pressing his face against it, defeated. His shoulders shook, his breath hitching wetly. Bulma gave him a moment before she tentatively sidled up next to him.
For the rest of lunch she just sat there next to him, lending him her silent support. Neither of them spoke; no words needed to be said.

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When the lunch bell had rung, Vegeta and Bulma left for their respective classes without a word or look exchanged. Bulma didn’t see Vegeta for the rest of the school day either, but her thoughts never strayed far from him. It rocked her to her core to have witnessed him in such a vulnerable moment, and more than that, to think of the implications of his injuries. What was his situation? From the rumors at school, Vegeta was known to get into fights, but was that the whole story? Was he getting bullied by those guys she’d rescued him from in the park? Was there something even more sinister? Was he being abused at home?
Bulma worried and struggled with these thoughts for the rest of the day. She tried to catch Vegeta before she went home but she couldn’t find him, and eventually she gave up and left. She walked home alone, knowing her friends were at the gym practicing for the Mixed Martial Arts club they were part of. She normally stayed and cheered them on, but now that she had broken up with Yamcha she’d decided not to go in order to give her ex a safe place to hang out with their friends without any awkwardness. As she was walking home, Bulma’s phone rang.
“Chi-Chi?” she answered, her friend’s caller ID popping up on her screen.
“Bulma! Are you coming?” Chi Chi asked her, her voice excited.
“Not today, Chi Chi. What’s up?”
“You’ll never guess who’s signing up for MMA right now.”
Bulma’s mind was still elsewhere, and she answered only partly listening. “Mm, who?”
“The new guy, Vegeta!”
Bulma stopped in her tracks, surprised. She pressed the phone to her other ear to ensure she was hearing properly. “Wait, say that again? Vegeta is joining the MMA team?”
“Yep! He’s speaking to Piccolo now, but apparently he’s injured so he can’t participate until he’s healed. Can you believe he’s been attending school with a broken rib? Anyway, apparently his dad called the school and asked if Vegeta could be excused from PE, that’s how the Coach knew. Vegeta seemed pretty upset about that. Piccolo said Vegeta can still attend practice but he can only watch and do light exercises until he’s well enough to train.”
Bulma was rooted to the spot, listening to Chi Chi’s every word, stunned by the news. She was having trouble wrapping her head around the idea of Vegeta joining a club and interacting with other students, especially when most of them were her friends. “Wow, that’s…” she didn’t know what that was.
“Crazy? I know, right?” Chi-Chi finished her sentence for her. “You should see Yamcha. He’s livid.”
Bulma arched a brow. She hadn’t even thought about that. Yamcha would certainly not be happy about being teammates with the guy who knocked him down in one hit.
“Yamcha can go cry about it to Launch if he wants to,” Bulma replied caustically as she started walking again.
Chi-Chi hummed, not quite agreeing or disagreeing. “Harsh. Anyway, I should go, practice is starting. I’ll catch you later.”
“Yeah, later.”
Bulma put her phone away and wondered how things were going to change now that Vegeta was integrating himself into her friends circle. She hadn’t told any of them about her encounters with Vegeta, it hadn’t seemed necessary. Most of them still thought poorly of Vegeta, and her interactions with Vegeta had felt too… personal, to share. The coming days were going to be interesting. Bulma decided she might have to start attending training again just to watch what happened; hopefully Yamcha would be too focused on Vegeta to care about her presence.
With her mind on the MMA club, Bulma went home and got herself a large dinner. She was starving. She hadn’t eaten lunch due to her encounter with Vegeta on the roof. As she was eating, it occurred to her that Vegeta also hadn’t eaten lunch. Had he skipped his meal entirely? She hadn’t seen him with any food, packed or bought. Was the the reason he spent lunch on the roof not because he wanted to be alone, but because he had nothing to eat? The thought left a sour taste in Bulma’s mouth.
After she ate, Bulma prepared more food for a lunch box. When she was done she went upstairs to lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She was tempted to call Chi-Chi or Goku to find out how the rest of practice had gone, but she resisted in case she raised their suspicion about her interest in Vegeta. She would have called Vegeta to ask him, but she had no way to contact him and she sure as hell wasn’t going to visit his house after the warning he’d given her. Bulma furrowed her brow, scheming. This wouldn’t do, she was nosy and she had no way to check up on Vegeta with him being off the grid to her. She decided that one way or another, she’d get Vegeta’s number.

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“Hey Bulma, wanna get lunch?” Chi-Chi asked her the next day at the lunch break.
Bulma swung her bag over her shoulder. “Sorry, Chi-Chi, I’ve gotta do something. Go have lunch with the others - check in on Yamcha for me, will you? Bye!”
Bulma waved and headed off before Chi-Chi could pry into her plans. When the coast was clear, Bulma snuck up onto the roof. Vegeta was there, playing an old game boy system. His backpack was next to him, a sad brown paper bag in his lap.
Bulma walked over and sat down next to him. “What’chya playing?” she asked, trying to keep her tone peppy.
Vegeta frowned and ignored her, focusing on his game.
Unperturbed, Bulma started rifling in her bag until she pulled out her lunch box. She opened it, revealing steak, potato salad, some hard boiled eggs, and some chopped vegetables. It was a huge lunch. She sighed dramatically as she surveyed the food.
Vegeta flashed her a quick, annoyed look from the corner of his eye, then went back to his game.
“I don’t know why she gives this to me when I’m on a diet,” Bulma said as if to herself. She looked at Vegeta’s paper bag. “What have you got to eat?”
Vegeta grabbed the bag and shoved it away from her. “Nothing.”
“Good!” Bulma said. Her cheery tone was enough to surprise Vegeta, and he looked at her. “Here, have this then,” Bulma explained as she plopped the food in Vegeta’s lap. “I’ll just throw it out otherwise.”
Vegeta looked at the food in surprise, then squinted at Bulma in suspicion.
She smiled benignly at him. “You’d be doing me a favor,” she wheedled. “I’d hate to waste good cooking, but, you know… Gotta watch my figure.”
Vegeta sighed, putting his game away and lifting the lunch box up. He picked up the plastic fork and started eating, wolfing down the food in much the same way as he’d done in her bedroom. He winced as eating aggravated his split lip, but he ignored the pain and continued to stuff his face.
Bulma smiled, pleased with herself and with Vegeta’s appetite. It wasn’t until her own stomach rumbled that she realized the flaw in her plan. She had nothing to eat for herself.
Vegeta cast her a glance at the sound of her stomach growling.
Bulma blushed. “Ha ha, dieting sure is hard…” she joked lamely.
Vegeta stared at her, then went back to eating. “S’for the best. The meat’s overcooked,” he said between mouthfuls.
Bulma stiffened, affronted. “It is not!”
“Is too,” he replied, and ripped off a chunk of the meat, handing it to her. “See? Try it.”
Bulma took the meat and defiantly chomped into it. It was perfectly succulent and rare, just the way Vegeta liked it. “You’re delusional. It is not overcooked.”
Vegeta grunted. “Hn. Guess it was just the part I ate then.”
Bulma smugly ate the rest of the meat, confident in her cooking ability, but her smugness quickly vanished in the wake of realization. Vegeta had tricked her - he had shared the food with her without being overt about it. And she’d fallen for it. Damn he was clever.
Bulma sullenly sucked her fingers clean as she watched Vegeta shovel down the rest of the packed lunch. He ate every last bit and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before handing back the tupperware. He gave her a cautious glance. “The potato salad,” he said, pausing.
“Yes?” she prompted, curious.
“…That was pretty tasty.”
Bulma beamed, flashing him a wide smile. “I can bring you more if you like!”
Vegeta didn’t seem to know how to reply to such an offer. He turned, digging in his bag and pulling out a water bottle. He opened it and drank most of it down. Before he finished he shot her a quick look and stopped when there were a few mouthfuls left. He offered her the remainder.
Bulma shyly accepted the bottle, endeared by his thoughtfulness. “Thanks,” she said, and swallowed down the rest of the water. She returned the bottle to him, and Vegeta shoved it back into his bag, along with the crumpled brown bag he’d had before.
“You know,” Bulma pressed, feeling brave. “If you give me your number, we could arrange all sorts of tasty lunches.”
“No,” Vegeta said flatly, standing and swinging his bag over his shoulder.
Bulma pouted, starting to get used to Vegeta’s curt way of talking. “But what if I pack something you don’t like and ruin your lunch?”
“I’m not picky. And I’m not giving you my number.”
“Aha! But you have a number to give, then?” Bulma declared, standing up, excited. She’d half suspected that Vegeta didn’t even have a phone. She’d never seen him with one.
Vegeta scowled at her, gripping his backpack tightly. “Don’t bring me any lunch. I already joined the stupid fight club to pay you back for the first steak. I can’t afford to pay you back for more.”
Bulma sighed, exasperated. “You don’t have to pay back friends, Vegeta.”
He gave her an appalled look. “Since when did we become friends?”
“Since… Since I just said so,” Bulma declared defiantly.
Vegeta scoffed. “I don’t need anything nearly so ridiculous,” he stated. And with that he left her standing on the roof, the empty lunch box still in her hand, and an aggravated determination burning in her soul.

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The next day at school, Bulma headed in early to speak with Mr. Popo.
“Sir?” she asked, hovering outside the teacher’s room. Mr Popo looked up and invited her in.
“How can I help you, Miss Briefs?”
Bulma fidgeted. “Um, sir, when is the next group project?”
Mr Popo arched a brow. “Well actually, I had something in mind to assign the class this week. Why do you ask?”
Bulma felt an elated thrill at the news. “Sir, could I impose on you to partner me with Vegeta?”
Mr Popo looked very shocked. “You want to work with Vegeta? Can I ask why?”
Bulma looked down, embarrassed. “Well, I don’t think he has a lot of friends, well any really, and I think the other students are scared of him.”
Mr Popo gave her a soft smile. “I see. And why couldn’t you ask to be his friend without this pretense?”
Bulma blushed. “Well, I don’t think he’d be open to something quite so direct.”
“Ah,” Mr Popo said. “Well, as long as he doesn’t object, I don’t see why we can’t try, although it’ll be a shame to have my two best students paired together rather than helping the weaker students.”
It was Bulma’s turn to look surprised. “We’re the best?” she asked, surprised. It was no secret Bulma was the top of the class, but while Vegeta had proven he was no dummy, it was still amazing to think he was scoring higher than the other students.
Mr Popo nodded. “Yes, well, he’s not up to your league of genius, Miss Briefs, but Vegeta tested better than the rest of the class, after you. I was surprised myself, he doesn’t seem the studious type.”
“No,” Bulma agreed.
“Perhaps it’s an innate quality,” Mr Popo mused.
Bulma had stopped listening, her mind already leaping ahead. “Thank you, Sir. See you in class!” she said, waving as she headed out.
Later, in advanced class, Mr Popo announced they’d be doing a group project, researching and creating a new invention in pairs. He assigned everyone a partner, writing the names up on the board. When Vegeta saw he’d been paired with Bulma, he turned in his seat and glared at her, suspicious. Bulma feigned innocence. When Vegeta scowled harder at her, she figured she hadn’t been convincing, but there was little Vegeta could do without causing a scene.
“I suggest you make time after class to work on this assignment when you can,” Mr Popo suggested. “The project will be due at the end of the month and will be a significant percentage towards your final grade.”
The class groaned and a moment later the bell rang. Everyone packed up to leave. Bulma skipped over to Vegeta’s desk. “So…” she said in a friendly, sing-song voice. “Looks like we’re partners.”
“Choose whatever topic you like,” Vegeta told her flatly. “Just tell me what to research and I’ll give you my half of the work.”
Bulma shook her head. “That won’t work. We’ll need to collaborate.”
Vegeta gave her an aggravated look. “Why?”
“Because I’m Bulma Briefs. I don’t half ass anything, especially not an invention assignment. That’s my specialty! And this count towards our grade, a lot, didn’t you hear? I’ll settle for nothing less than an A triple plus.”
Vegeta glared at her, but didn’t protest further.
Bulma smiled at him sweetly. “So I’ll need your number and e-mail. And we’ll have to set up a schedule for when we can meet and work on the project together.”
Vegeta paused, and Bulma caught a flash of worry in the boy’s eyes. He spoke hesitantly, looking around to ensure they were alone. “It wouldn’t be safe to give you my number. For the same reason why it’s not safe for you to come over.”
Bulma’s confidence deflated a little. “Oh…” She pondered the problem, then perked up. “Ah! I’ve got it. Are you free after school?” Vegeta gave her a skeptical look. Bulma pushed on regardless. “Let’s meet at the end of the day,” she suggested cheerily.
“I’m not walking home with you, Briefs.”
Bulma put a hand on her hip, undeterred. “Fine. Come to my house on your own after school. Is that acceptable?”
“Whatever.”
“Is that a yes?” Bulma persisted.
“Yes, jeez, you’re annoying!” Vegeta complained, but Bulma didn’t mind. Vegeta had agreed, and that’s all she needed.
“Here,” she said, and shoved a lunch box into his chest which he reflexively caught. Before he could argue, she hurried out, waving at him. “Later this afternoon, then!”
Vegeta watched her go, unable to protest the free food or their meeting as she dashed into the hall to her next class, congratulating herself at her own craftiness.

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AN:
I have a fetish about beating Vegeta up, poor guy. >:)

Question time! Would love to hear your thoughts:
1) what’s Bulma planning, that crafty vixen?
2) where y’all reading from?
3) what’s in the bag?

Apologies to my followers if you got a message about chapter 3 twice, I was trying to fix an error and goofed, whoops.
Shout out to all my ‘guest’ reviewers. Thanks for taking the time to review - I wish I could send you personal replies like I try to do with signed-in members, but if you’re not logged in I’m unable to do that. Feel free to shoot me a message here, or on twitter, or at lady vegeets at gmail dot com.

Next chapter should be hopefully up in a couple days!
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- 5
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