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A Losing Battle	By : BlazeEBlake_TD Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 2121 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z nor do I own any of the characters. I make no money whatsoever by writing this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Bulma pounded on the door to the gravity room, standing on tiptoes to peer through the small window set into it. Inside, Vegeta continued to train, keeping his back to her as he fired ki blasts at the latest series of drones she had built for him.
“I see you in there!” she shouted futily, “Open up!” Bulma sighed and lowered back onto her heels, bringing her hands to her hips. With the exception of the first night, he had been withdrawn since she had recovered from her brief illness. In the past week he had become as terse as he ever was, barely speaking in complete sentences and increasing his training hours to the point where she hardly saw him at all. On a few rare occasions she had been able to catch him in the kitchen but their conversations were somehow more one sided than what she was used to. It was as if, to make up for the reluctant tenderness he had shown her in her weakened state, he had decided to distance himself farther than ever before. Part of her worried that she had lost ground with him, that what little hope she’d had was going to be extinguished. But her stubborn streak had her convinced that, in some strange way, this was progress.
Suddenly the door to the gravity chamber slid open and she found herself face to face with the object of her frustration.
“About time!” she huffed, doing her best to ignore the rippling muscles of his naked torso, “Didn’t you hear me knocking?” He threw a towel around his bare shoulders and frowned down at her.
“I was rather busy if you hadn’t noticed,” he replied cooly.
“Well now you’d better get busy getting ready or we’re going to be late.” He cocked his head to the side, his frown deepening into one of confusion.
“Did you forget?” Bulma asked, returning his glare with one of her own, “ChiChi’s baby shower? I’ve been planning it for weeks. I ordered food, everyone’s going to be there with-”
“I have no idea what you’re on about,” he returned dismissively, brushing past her, “But if it has anything to do with Kakarot’s widow then it’s no concern of mine.” Bulma hurried after him, teeth clenched.
“We talked about this!” she insisted, “Remember, right before I got sick?”
“I remember you droning on about some such nonsense,” he threw back, “But then I also recall you dropping the entire discussion in favor of a more physical one.”
“I didn’t drop it. I thought that we had agreed to come back to it after… You know.”
“Well here we are again and I still don’t care.” By now they had reached his bedroom. She opened her mouth to lob another retort but he rushed inside and slammed the door behind him, causing the jamb to crack. Bulma stood in the hallway for a few moments, stunned. Then, biting her lip and squaring her shoulders, she took hold of the knob and pushed into his quarters. The room was empty except for the scant black shorts he had been training in. She could hear the shower going and a wicked smirk formed at the corner of her mouth. She quickly stripped off her own clothes and crept into the bathroom as quietly as she could. When he gave no sign of sensing her presence, she slid open the small compartment’s glass door and stepped inside. Vegeta whirled around, eyes wide.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he fumed.
“We weren’t done talking,” she said, shutting the door behind her.
“I’m not going to whatever ridiculous gathering you have planned. Now get out.”
“How about we negotiate? You come with me to the party, and I’ll do something for you, hmm?”
Before he could respond, Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. At first, he remained motionless, staunchly resisting her wiles. But soon he gave into her and returned her kiss in earnest, coiling one arm around her waist while the other hand reached up to tangle in her hair. He stepped forward, backing her up against the tiled wall with an aroused growl. Bulma smiled as she parted her lips and ran her tongue along his teasingly.
“So,” she panted, breaking their kiss, “How about it?” Vegeta leaned in close as if to answer her with another fervid kiss, but instead shifted to bring his lips to her ear.
“Absolutely… Not.” he whispered roughly. Bulma felt a rush of cold as the shower door slid open and Vegeta pushed her out into the bathroom, sliding the glass back in place behind her.
“Ugh!” she cried, grabbing a towel from the rack beside the sink, “Fine you jerk! Trunks and I will go on our own, like always. I’ll tell everyone you say hello, especially Yamcha.” When he didn’t respond, Bulma wrapped the towel around herself and stormed off to her own room, leaving the discarded clothes where she had dropped them.
After a cold shower, Bulma speedily threw on the outfit she had laid out the day before, a simple red dress with short sleeves and a high collar, and applied a matching shade of lipstick. She then rushed over to Trunk’s room, where her mother was finishing up with the boys own preparations.
“Oh hi sweetie!” the bubbly woman said, beaming, “You look so cute! We were just coming to find you! Doesn’t our little man look so handsome? Just like his daddy!” Bulma ignored the comparison and glanced over her son’s attire. She was almost certain the longsleeved dress shirt he wore was bound to be covered in food by the end of the day but she after her encounter with Vegeta she didn’t have much time left to fuss over it.
“Thanks mom!” Bulma said distractedly, taking hold of her son and rushing out of the room.
“Have fun!” Bunny called after her. Trunks cried out as they bolted through the house and out of the front door to the driveway, giggling delightedly by the time Bulma stopped to throw down the capsule she stored her car in.
“Mama fast!” Trunks exclaimed, clapping his hands, “Again!” Bulma set him into the car seat and sat behind the wheel beside him, some of her tension easing as she took in her son’s excitement
“Don’t worry, we’re gonna go even faster than that,” she promised.
“Yay!” Trunks squealed.
“And you know what else? We’re gonna have so much fun without your dumb old dad too! The nerve of him tricking me like that! Can you believe it? Well we’ll show him won’t we? We’re not gonna let his stinky mood ruin our day!” Trunks threw his arms up in the air as the car lifted into the sky and sped off toward the Son’s house. By the time they landed on the grassy front lawn, the caterers appeared to be finishing up their preparations and just about all of the guests had arrived. Bulma had initially wanted to throw the party at Capsule Corp, but she had ultimately decided that it would be easier on the increasingly pregnant ChiChi to have the shower at home. She knew better than anyone how difficult a Saiyan pregnancy could be.
Bulma scooped up Trunks and opened her glove compartment to collect the packet of capsules that contained various gifts for her friend, the baby, and even Gohan. Sealing the car back into its own miniscule container, she made her way to the back of the house, where the celebration appeared to be in full swing. After a cursory glance, she was happy to see that all of her old friends had made it; even Piccolo stood at the fringe of things, quietly conversing with Tien. ChiChi sat at a table with her father, and Gohan, smiling serenely between bites from a mountain of food before her.
“Bulma!” she heard someone call. She turned and was greeted by the sight of an approaching Yamcha, a smile on his face and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants.
“Hey you!” She replied brightly, “Long time no see!”
“Yeah, it has been a while hasn’t it? Time sure does fly.”
“I guess we all needed a little time to recharge after all that android stuff.”
“Definitely. Oh man, speaking of androids, did you check out who Krillin brought? Wild.” Bulma peered past Yamcha to the table behind him, where Krillin sat with a familiar-looking blonde.
“No way!” she gasped, “Is that…?
“18 yeah,” Yamcha replied. “ Crazy right? Hopefully he doesn’t make her mad or we’ll all done for.” Yamcha laughed and scratched the back of his head nervously.
“Well,” Bulma said thoughtfully, “Good for him I guess. He looks happy anyway. And look at you! You look like you’re not doing too bad. Peace times suit you.”
“You too! And Trunks sure is getting big!”
“No kidding. He’ll be a Super Saiyan before we know it.”
“Speaking of Saiyans, is uh… He showing up?”
“Nope. Just us humans. Probably better that way.
“Guess so, with 18 here especially.”
“Trunks and I are gonna mingle. Wanna come with?”
“Sure.” Bulma smiled and started toward the crowd with Yamcha in tow, doing her best to put the absent prince from her mind.

* * * * * * *

Vegeta sat under a tree at the edge of the Capsule Corp grounds, eyes closed as he tried once again to banish the conflicting emotions boiling within him. Since the woman’s illness he had realized that, somehow, in all of their time together he had grown to actually care, to feel for her beyond his self appointed duty. This attachment and its resultant sentiment confused and distracted him in ways that agitated him to no end. Though he didn’t know how or when, these feelings had infected him swiftly and insidiously and the only way he could think to combat it was with distance.
And so he had tried to keep as far away from her as possible, training longer and keeping odd hours in hopes of returning to his former disaffected state. However in spite of all his attempts, the separation had done nothing to improve his affliction. If anything, the rare glimpses and meals they shared seemed to incite even stronger stirrings, none of which were improved by her vulgar schemings. This morning it had taken everything he had not to give into her sultry manipulations.
An errant smirk played about his lips as he remembered the shocked look on her face when he had shoved her out of the shower, naked and dissatisfied. And then he remembered her parting jab and his mood soured once more. He knew she had been trying to bait him and to his chagrin, in some small measure, it had worked.
Even before he had shown her any interest at all, he had marveled over how she could have ever deemed a man so pathetically weak a worthy mate. Aside from the obvious failings his energy levels presented, Vegeta had once overheard the woman mention the man had at one time been so inadequate that he feared all Earth women in general. Not to mention the low class females he had regularly associated himself with, all under Bulma’s nose; Vegeta had smelled them on him even before the two humans had ended their relationship. The thought of her passing any time with such a man, let alone allowing him to ogle her as he had in the past, set his teeth on edge.
With low snarl, he opened his eyes and shot into the air. He had no idea where Kakarot’s family had made their home but had heard the woman mention something about the East District, and so he set out in this general direction. In a matter of moments he picked up a cluster of energy far above those of Earth’s typical inhabitants and adjusted his course accordingly. Sure enough, he soon found himself hovering above a modest dwelling and the celebration that surrounded it. For a brief moment, his eyes fell upon Kakarot’s short bald companion and, inexplicably, the female android. He blinked in astonishment, and felt a mild, but familiar disdain rising within him. But all of this was quickly forgotten when he heard the woman’s laughter from the other side of the yard. His head snapped in the the direction of the tittering and he found her sitting at a table with none other than Yamcha himself, his own half-breed child bouncing on the weakling’s knee.
Vegeta dove toward them, landing without a sound and silently seething as he waited to catch their attention. In between hops, Trunks glanced up and and was the first to notice his irate father.
“Da!” He shouted gleefully.
“Uh I think you’re confused little guy,” Yamcha snorted, “I’m not your daddy.”
“Oh trust me,” Vegeta said, causing the man to stiffen in surprise, “There is no reality where my son would mistake you for his father.” Bulma turned to face him, eyebrows raised.
“You’re late,” she said haughtily, “You’re lucky I ordered enough food to feed an army of Saiyans.”
“I didn’t come for this foolish baby bath of yours,” he sneered, “My only concern is that my son isn’t corrupted by the company of low-class warriors. It appears I’ve arrived just in time.” With that, Vegeta snatched Trunks from Yamcha’s grasp and placed the boy on the ground beside him, leaving the child to sit in the grass, confused. Bulma stood up and scowled at Vegeta, crossing her arms to match his closed-off stance.
“Huh, and here I thought this party was going to be boring,” He heard Piccolo snark.
“You stay out of this Namekian!” he returned, still glowering at the woman, “I’m in no mood for your commentary.” The green alien chuckled and fell silent.
“He sure hasn’t changed a bit,” the android mumbled, her voice tinged with amusement.
“Uh, 18 maybe we should stay out of it,” he heard Krillin suggest apprehensively, “I mean-”
“You’d do well to listen to your bald friend you overblown appliance,” Vegeta interrupted, “A confrontation with me would not end well for you now.”
“What, I’d only break one of your arms this time?” The Saiyan prince started toward the table behind him but Bulma caught his arm and began tugging him away from the group. Generously, he allowed her to lead him away, all the while pondering on whether or not he would actually give the cybernetic female a taste of his increased power.
“Hey!” she snapped when they were some distance off, jerking his body to face her, “No one asked you to show up and spoil everyone’s good time! Stop being a grump and calm down, or leave and let everyone enjoy the party!”
“And let that idiot man-handle my son and drool over you?” he spat, “Not a chance.”
“Nobody is manhandling or drooling over anyone. Yeesh, what’s your problem lately? First you can’t get far enough away from me and now you’re hunting me down and embarrassing me in front of my friends and Krillin’s new girlfriend!”
“New? What’s new about that deceptive hunk of machinery? Did she install a toaster oven? Can she dispense hot beverages?”
“Don’t change the subject! What is going on with you?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” He easily slipped out of her grasp and averted his gaze pointedly.
“Well then I don’t have to deal with your lousy attitude,” she concluded, turning to rejoin the festivities.
“Don’t think I’ll turn a blind eye to you playing into the attentions of that dishonorable waste!” he called after her.
“What?” Bulma asked, pausing but still facing away from him.
“You heard me. I’m not going to stand by and watch that man attempt to interfere with what I’ve laid claim to.” The woman clenched her fists and stomped back over to him.
“First of all,” she said through clenched teeth, “Yamcha is my friend. That’s all. And second, laid claim to? What does that even mean? You can’t go around acting all jealous when you don’t even bother to pay attention when we’re at home!”
“Jealous? Of him? Hardly.”
“Oh no? Then why did mentioning him get you to fly all the way out here?”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“Whatever. You don’t want to talk? Fine. Just stop with the mood swings. You’re making me dizzy.”
She turned to leave once more, but he grabbed her before she got more than a few steps, launching the both of them high above the Son’s yard and flying off with her clutched in his arms.
“Cut it out Vegeta!” she shrieked, “Put me down!” He ignored her and continued flying toward an undetermined destination.
“We can’t just leave our son!” she screamed, “Vegeta if you don’t put me down I swear-” He began to loosen his grip threateningly and she scrambled to wrap her arms around his neck. He smirked and finally chose a grassy clearing to set down in. When they landed, the woman pushed away from him and stalked to the opposite end of the small wooded glade.
“You better have a good explanation for that little stunt,” she bristled, pacing back and forth, “I can’t believe you-”
“I don’t understand,” he interrupted with a barely audible grumble, “Any of it.”
“Any of what?” she asked irritably, still shuffling about.
“These… Feelings. They don’t make any sense. There’s no reason for them. No point. But nothing I do seems to let me be rid of them.”
“Feelings?”
“You heard me… When you were weakened by that illness, I actually worried for you. I… Cared about whether or not you fragile body would be able to recover. And today, just thinking about that man spending time with you, it made me furious.”
“So? That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“Maybe here. But among the Saiyans such attachments are weaknesses that distract from our true purpose, from our quest for power and greatness.”
“Shows how much they knew. Look how strong Goku got and he cares about tons of people.”
“Of course you’d bring up Kakarot at a time like this.”
“I’m just saying, maybe caring about someone isn’t so bad. Maybe your problem is that you’re trying to fight it when you don’t have to.” He sighed and leaned back against a nearby tree, shaking his head in disbelief. He felt her lay and hand on his shoulder and he looked up, meeting her softened expression.
“I will never be anything like that… Former mate of yours,” he mumbled, lips contorting as if he had a sudden bad taste in his mouth.
“Good,” she replied with a smile, “I don’t want you to be. Just stop being such a dweeb ok? I love you and it doesn’t need to be such a big deal all the time if you feel the same way.”
“I never said anything about love.”
“Just shut up and kiss me you jerk.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to meet his lips with hers. Vegeta broke away suddenly
“What about the boy?” he queried, “You were nearly inconsolable just a moment ago.”
“I think he’ll be ok for a little while,” she mused, “I mean, he is surrounded by some of Earth’s toughest guys. Unless you think we shouldn’t-” Vegeta held her close and silenced her with a forceful kiss of his own. When he began to tug at her dress roughly, she pulled away from him and expertly lifted the garment up and over her head, leaving it to fall into the soft grass at her feet. He took hold of her once more and spun her around, unclasping the restrictive undergarment that imprisoned her ample chest with one hand, and sliding the other beneath the hem of her thin lingerie. She gasped sharply as he first began stroking the tender bud between her legs, and then again when he eased a finger inside of her. When he snaked his head underneath her arm and brought his mouth to one of her exposed breast, she whimpered softly and shuddered irrepressibly.
“Yes!” she groaned desperately, reaching back to grip his shoulder and bucking into his touch as he slid a second digit into her slick entrance. With another cry she came, her walls clenching down around his rough fingers fiercely. With a pleased grunt, Vegeta withdrew his hand from her moist center and rapidly stripped off his clothing. Before the woman had time to recover, he wrapped his arms around her, and lowered them both to the ground. As he sheathed himself within her and their bodies began to passionately collide, Vegeta momentarily conceded to the tide of emotions he had been struggling against and lost himself in her completely

* * * * * * *

Yamcha sat at the table beside Krillin and 18, once again bouncing an increasingly fussy Trunks on his knee.
“Gosh,” he said, brow knitting with concern, “I hope Bulma’s ok. Vegeta seemed pretty ticked off.”
He heard Piccolo huff out a breath in disgust and twisted his head to look at him questioningly.
“Don’t worry,” the alien said with a grimace, “She’s fine. Trust me.” Yamcha scrunched up his face in confusion as Piccolo closed his eyes and took a slow, almost frustrated breath.
With a shrug he turned back to Trunks and attempted a reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry little guy” he offered gently, “I’m sure they’ll work it out and be back in no time.”
- 5
- 6
- 7
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A Losing Battle