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A Losing Battle	By : BlazeEBlake_TD Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 2110 -:- 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
- 8
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Bulma dug her nails into the scarred flesh of Vegeta’s back, fighting weakly against the climactic wave threatening to overwhelm her as the Saiyan pumped into her hot, slick center. Unable to hold out any longer, she screamed the man’s name breathily and gave into her orgasm, dragging him over the edge with her as her walls seized around his engorged member and brought out a roar that drowned out her own cries.
With a contented sigh, Vegeta shifted slightly and lowered himself on top of her, laying his head on her stomach just beneath her naked breasts, powerful hands lightly gripping either side of her torso. Bulma took a long, deep breath, one hand resting against her glistening chest while the other gently massaged the man’s scalp.
Leaning back against the cushions of their shared bed, she couldn't help but marvel at how well things had worked out thus far. It had been nearly three years since Cell’s defeat and in all that time Vegeta has surprised her not only by staying, but by seemingly settling into his life on Earth. Of course the intervening years hadn't been without their arguments and stumbling blocks. Getting used to Trunks’ increased habit of flying around had been a particularly frustrating experience for her, and there had been a brief but intense blow up between all three of them over Vegeta’s flat out refusal to take part in any of Goten’s training, but overall the past few years had been better than anything Bulma could have hoped for. In fact, it was exactly the pleasant state of things that made her so reluctant to bring up what had been bothering her since the early hours of the day. She and Trunks had been sitting at the breakfast table, light-heartedly discussing his upcoming fourth birthday party, when out of the blue he had asked her a rather odd but sensitive question.
“Did you and dad have a wedding?” The boy had casually inquired. For a moment she had stared back silently, lips parted for a response she didn't have. Though certainly more talkative than his father, Trunks often took on the stoic demeanor of the elder Saiyan, particularly in the hours before and immediately following his training. When he had entered into an inquisitive phase, he had caught his mother by surprise, and this instance had been no different.
“Um, why do you ask?” she had finally replied with a nervous smile.
“Goten said his mom and dad had a big party with presents and cake just cuz they got marriage”, Trunks had explained.
“Married. And yes, that's how it works.”
“Did you and dad have one?”
“Um, no. Your dad was really busy training to save the earth, and then we got so busy taking care of you, that we just didn't have time to, uh, plan it all.”
“Oh ok. Well you guys can still have one right?”
“Well, yeah I guess so.”
“Well you should, so we can have cake and presents. We can do it after my party!”
“Well, we’ll see what your dad thinks.” With that the boy had nodded and dived into his breakfast, leaving Bulma to fixate on what he had stirred up with his innocent question. In the early days, she had had only the slimmest of hopes that her fling with Vegeta would be anything more than the occasional dalliance. When it had become clear that the man planned to stay with her and their son, and that he even had feelings for her beyond the physical, she had tried to let things progress as naturally as something as unique as their relationship could. Of course she had nudged the trajectory of things a little here and there and had often experienced the full force of his pushback, but she had never gone so far as to think of marriage until now. How could she expect a man who had struggled with the very idea of romantic feelings to participate in something that was all about the celebration of those emotions?
“What is it this time?” He grumbled suddenly, head still resting on her abdomen.
“Nothing,” she lied weakly, “Just thinking about Trunks’ birthday party this weekend.”
“No reason to lose sleep over such a frivolous affair. After all you're the one who insisted on hosting it. No doubt the boy will be adequately spoiled just as you've planned.”
“I just want to make sure it goes well. He's really excited.”
“He should count himself lucky that such a celebration is even taking place. Were he born on planet Vegeta, no one would have bothered with such mediocrities. Hmph. Birthdays. Ridiculous.”
“I know but… Hey, you're gonna be there right?” At this he lifted his head and gazed up at her in disbelief.
“You mean to tell me you actually expect me to take part in that useless function?”
“Well yeah! It is your son’s birthday.”
“You never insisted on my participation before. What does it matter now?”
“Before he was just a baby and all he wanted was cake and a few toys from me and his grandparents.”
“And this time is different how?”
“He actually asked to have everyone come out to celebrate! He wants a party and his father should be there.”
“The prince of all Saiyans will not lower himself to this Earth buffoonery simply to appease the whims of a child. I--” He was cut off as Bulma struggled out from underneath him and climbed off of the bed with a frustrated huff.
“You know what? Fine!” She exclaimed, as she began dressing,“Don't be there. Disappoint your son and make me look crazy again for trying to act like a family for once. You know he actually asked me today if we'd gotten married? That's a laugh, right? I mean you, Prince of all Saiyans thinking of anyone but yourself and doing something to make me happy.” Vegeta gaped at her as she pulled on the last of her clothes and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. As she stomped down the hallway to her old bedroom, Bulma knew there was a small chance she had let the festering preoccupations of today filter into their argument, and that perhaps she had overreacted just a bit. But then again it had never occurred to her how angry it made her that everything that would have been normal for most couples was usually a fight for them. And she had more than underestimated how much, in spite of all their arguments, she wanted to be his wife.

* * * * * * *

Vegeta stood under the hot spray of the showerhead, quietly simmering over the idiocy he was about to subject himself to. It had been two nights since she had stormed out of their room and in all that time she had yet to return. Initially he had taken her absence in stride, refusing to give in to her childish mood swings. But he had almost immediately noticed a negative effect upon his sleep, which had greatly improved since he had first agreed to share quarters with her. In turn, his training had suffered, his focus becoming muddled as his frustrations mounted. After the second restless night, his first thought had been to march into her old bedroom and bring her back by force, but he knew her well enough to see the flaws in such a strategy. Having little choice, he was left to puzzle over what had led to her abrupt departure. She was quick to anger over so many trivial and insignificant things, but rarely did she turn her back on him so vehemently and, as far as he could tell, without any kind of wiles or trickery. The upset over his refusal to attend this latest frivolity was typical, but her reaction seemed rather disproportionate to the offense. Turning her words over carefully in his mind, he had come up with nothing that made sense, concluding with some frustration that it would ultimately serve him best to at least briefly show his face at the festivities. However, should his presence fail to put an end to her tantrum, he would be more than happy to employ the brutish tactics he had first landed upon when thinking of how to tackle this trifling conflict.
He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dressed, stepping out into the hallway moments later, clad in demure Earth attire. As he walked toward the stairs, his ears picked up the woman and her mother rushing about downstairs as they made their final preparations.
“Bulma sweetie,” her mother said, “why don't you ask Vegeta if he could help carry out some of those gifts?”
“Because I shouldn't always have to be the one to ask mom,” she spat, “Sometimes a girl needs to be asked, not the other way around.”
“It's just a few presents. I'm sure he wouldn't--”
“It's not about the presents!” Vegeta stood at the top of the steps, frowning as he heard them leave. The fact that she had snapped at her mother was also unusual for her, fickle moods aside. With a shake of his head he made his way downstairs and out onto the large field where the woman’s temporary servants were setting out tables and containers of heated food. At least he would be able to get a decent meal out of this nonsense. He came to stand beneath a familiar tree at the edge of the commotion, eyes lazily scanning for the distraught blue haired woman.
“Hi dad!” He heard Trunks say. He glanced down and was met with the sight of his son and Kakarot’s youngest spawn beaming up at him excitedly.
“It's gonna be the best party ever!” He continued, “ Didja see all my presents?”
“A virtual mountain of senseless baubles, yes,” he said, disinterestedly sweeping his gaze over the growing pile balanced atop a long central table.”
“Yeah,” Trunks laughed, “Mom’s so cool. I bet when you guys have the wedding you’ll get even more stuff!”
“And a big cake!” Goten chimed in.
“What are you babbling about?” Vegeta asked, eyes narrowing at them in irritable confusion.
“Goten’s mom said people get to have parties when they get marriage, and everyone has to give ‘em cake and stuff.”
“I seen pictures!” Goten added with a nod.
“I asked mom and she said she'd ask you if you could have one after my party. So can we dad? Please?”
“Have what? A wedding ceremony?” Vegeta returned incredulously, nearly choking.
“Uh-huh!” The boys replied in unison.
“That's preposterous! Now run along before I lose my patience.” Trunks shrugged and ran off toward the table full of presents, Goten right on his heels.
“What's postrous?” He heard the younger boy ask.
Vegeta snarled and resumed his search for his son’s mother. Could it truly be that the notion of some silly Earth custom had riled her so fiercely? He had traversed the universe long enough to know what marriage was, though each society had its own unique traditions and peculiarities. Back when she had been entangled with the weakling, the woman had chattered nearly non-stop about what kind of ceremony she would have, so much so that even he had not been capable of drowning it all out. From what he understood, this planet’s version of the ritual involved an exchange of promises, expensive clothing and an extravagantly wasteful celebration with one’s relatives and allies. It all sounded quite simple if not pointless to him, though he could not recall her bringing it up to once in all of their time together. He finally spotted her at the opposite end of the clearing, greeting the bald fighter and the demented hunk of metal he called a mate, and he couldn’t help but glower at her darkly. How dare she go into one of her fits over something they had not even discussed. Afterall, he wasn’t in the business of reading minds, particularly erratic, hormone addled ones like hers. He was contemplating stalking over to her for an overdue confrontation, when she took the android’s hand and squealed delightedly at what appeared to be a piece of jewelry encircling her finger.
“Really?” She cried, “When did he ask you?”
“A few days ago,” the blonde said with a small grin, “He was so nervous…”
“Hey!” The short man protested, cheeks reddening “I wasn’t that bad! I mean you said yes, right?”
“Of course I did.”
“So,” Bulma said, still eyeing the woman’s hand, “When’s the big day?” Kakarot’s friend opened his mouth to answer but the android beat him to it.
“Some time before the end of the year,” she replied confidently.
“That’s soon. If you need any help shopping or getting things set up, let me know. I don’t think I’ve been to a wedding since Goku and ChiChi.” A wistful smile flickered across her face, disappearing in a flash as Trunks and Goten ran up to the group.
“Is that for me?” Trunks asked, pointing to a red box clutched in the female’s hands. Vegeta looked away, his thoughts once more turning inward. He had been unaware of the specifics of Earth’s marriage customs, mostly out of marked disinterest. In many of the societies he had come in contact with and subsequently destroyed, deals were simply brokered between the patriarchs of two families looking to create an alliance. Apparently this planet’s males were expected to plead with the females for acceptance of their claim over them. He could not imagine a more inane concept, with the exception of the fact that the woman had somehow gotten it into her head that he had done wrong by not taking part in something so absurd. Had he not made it clear by now that she belonged to him? Had his words fallen upon deaf ears, or worse yet, begun to lack weight on this pathetic excuse for a world? He ventured another look across the yard, locking his eyes onto the creature who managed to be the object of both his frustration and his inexplicably fierce desire. He closed his eyes and sighed audibly as his son and his companion shot past him, giggling boisterously.
“Boys,” he called reluctantly, “come here.” The two half-Saiyans stopped in their tracks and tentatively came to stand beneath the tree Vegeta rested against.
“What else did you mothers tell you about Earth weddings?”

* * * * * * *

As the last of the catering vehicles drove away, Bulma re-entered the house and walked to the living room. Upon reaching it, she did her best to stifle a laugh that threatened to tumble from her lips at the sight of Trunks and Goten, both boys snoring gently on the couch amidst a scattering of her son’s new toys. Rather than moving them, Bulma threw a blanket across the sleeping children and headed upstairs as quietly as she could manage. When she came to the door of her old room, she hesitated. Though she would never admit it out loud, a large part of why she had remained away from the bed she shared with Vegeta was that she was embarrassed and not entirely sure how to casually climb back under the covers with the Saiyan after storming out so dramatically. Of course she had been angry and even a little hurt, but more by her own confused musings and realizations than any of the man’s refusals. However the thought of explaining all of that to him would be admitting to not only a lapse in judgement, but defeat, and she had never known Vegeta to be a gracious winner.
“Come on Bulma,” she mumbled to herself, “You're a genius, you can figure something out.”
With a stiff nod she took hold of the doorknob, determined to grab her toothbrush and head back into the room she had been comfortably sleeping in for most of the past few years. But when she pulled open the door, Vegeta was already standing just inside of it. She drew in a sharp breath and clutched at her chest.
“Vegeta!” She hissed, “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“I would have words with you woman,” he said firmly, “in our quarters.”
“It just so happens I was heading over there anyway. I just wanted to grab a few things.” She squeezed past his muscular frame, first ducking into the bathroom for what she had originally come for, and then picking up a discarded sleep shirt for good measure. She then pushed back out into the hall and walked to her current bedroom, the Saiyan Prince not far behind. Once inside, she sat down on the bed and crossed her arms as Vegeta closed the door behind them.
“So,” she said, her voice calmer than she felt, “What’s so important that you had to scare me half to death?”
“It has become apparent that your simple Earth mind is incapable of grasping the concept of Saiyan ownership,” he began roughly.
“Hey! In case you've forgotten, I'm one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet! I’ve been inventing all sorts of complicated stuff since I was Trunks’ age!”
“Which makes your failure to understand what I have already pledged to you that much more disappointing. It seems as though, because of your bullheadedness, I will have to submit to your farcical Earth traditions just to put an end to these outlandish hysterics of yours. That said, I will by no means disgrace myself by kneeling, nor shall we host anything as remotely garish as today's childish revelry.”
“What the heck are you even talking about? Hysterics? How d--” Vegeta tossed a small bag into the mattress beside her, forcing her to pause.
“What's this?” She asked, picking up the tiny pouch.
“Will you just stop talking for once open it?” He replied with a roll of his eyes. Bulma shot him a warning glare before untying the thin strands of fabric that held the diminutive purse closed and upended its contents into her outstretched hand. Her eyes widened as they fell upon a sparkling diamond ring now gently resting in her palm.
“Vegeta!” She whispered, “I can't believe--”
“Keep a hold of yourself woman. I only sent your mother out for that trinket because I was told that was part of this asinine process. If it's going to send you into some kind of frenzy I’ll gladly dispose of it.”
“Over my dead body!”
“So I take it we have an agreement?”
“I have so much to plan! I don't know where to start. Mom is going to absolutely flip out!”
“Woman!” Bulma’s eyes snapped up to the impatient Saiyan. A wide smile spreading across her face, she rushed over to him and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking them both off balance.
“That's not an answer,” he said tersely, taking hold of her hips to steady them.
“Of course I’ll marry you, you big jerk,” she cried, several tears catching in her eyelashes.
Vegeta peered at her, seemingly mystified and disturbed all at once.
“What are you blubbering about now?” He exclaimed.
“I'm just really happy!” She replied tearfully.
“Tears when you’re displeased, tears when you’re content… You're going to make me regret this, aren't you?” Bulma pulled away and took one of his hands, gently leading him back toward the bed.
“Not at all,” she said, taking on a sultry tone, “in fact, let me take a minute to say thank you.”
- 8
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A Losing Battle