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Space Taboos	By : chroniclyflaming Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 2646 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 1-Space Taboos
- 1
Space Taboos

The prompt: Gay BFF

Bulma comes to the conclusion that Vegeta is really just gay after listening to him prattle on about Goku and how he will defeat that low-rank warrior for the 9000th time, and decides he's just out about it because of space taboos or something. As a result, she tries to help him get in touch with his gay self and tries hooking him up. Unfortunately for her plans, he really is just a straight man.

Bonus points if she thinks Nappa was his ex.

The fill:

Everything fell into place with a satisfying click that made Bulma lean back in her chair and go 'Aahh.' My god, for a genius she could be so very slow. Of course, of course! It all made sense. Ahhh. Duh.

The reason why Vegeta didn't care about women, the reason why he was so obsessed about Goku, the reason he'd been hanging around that big guy, the reason why he wore those clothes and was so defensive about his hairstyle: Vegeta was gay.

Hugely, crippling homosexual.

The blue-haired woman stared with half-lidded, satisfied eyes as she watched the tiny man do another about face, still ranting about how he would soon defeat that low-class warrior Goku. Kakarotte. Dear god, it was so obvious. Just staring at her in the face with barely hidden subtext. He even had a nickname for the guy.

My god. She slammed her forehead and shook her head. Vegeta barely spared her a look. No wonder he never checked her out, even when she was wearing her bathing suit and lying out by the pool all damp and sexy with her hair barely frizzing. No man, no straight man could resist that. It had brought Yamcha to his knees, Krillin to gibbering, and even Goku to stare. Vegeta had simply sneered.

So, so gay. Not even bicurious.

"Get your udders out of my face, woman!" should have tipped her off right away. She could be so naive.

"Vegeta. Vegeta."

"What?" His face was so riddled with suspicion. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be a gay Saiyan. Surrounded by all those half-naked ripply tanned men. Must have been torture. They probably looked down on that, macho meatheads, and made him feel bad about himself. The bragging was all bravado; inside he was insecure and deeply hidden in the closet.

"Vegeta. I want you to know, I sorta respect you."

"What?"

"And I respect your privacy and choice to live your life how you see fit."

He looked disturbed, slowly moving away from her.

"I don't judge people on their sexual partners. Except slut Yamcha and that whore of a secretary! But aside from them. Oh, and Chi-Chi. Since, you know, how quickly she moved in on Goku. Didn't even give him a chance to wander around the block, right? You hear me? You understand."

The prince was creeping further away. "All I wanted was for the damned training chamber to be fixed."

"You know, you're not alone. You're not. What do you think Tien and Chaotzu are? And they've been together for years. Poor, poor Launch."

"…they are Saiyans? No, what? I thought they were Earthlings?"

"Oh sure. But you know. About their…you know. Preferences.

"I want you to know that there are others out there. You don't have to die alone. Especially since the androids are coming. Go out, explore! Enjoy life. There's no reason to deny yourself."

His eyes were darting around the lab. "Are you saying that I can eat that triple-layer cake your mother is preparing, without you screaming at me?"

"No! You stay away from that cake!" Bulma hissed out air. "What I'm saying is, I know a swell, single guy. Great biceps. Now, he's a manicurist. But he's not like, a stereotype. You know, limp wrists and all that. Since I don't think you're into that type."

Vegeta was struggling to say something, but only managed out, "wu…"

"I'll take you to meet him. This will be awesome! I've always wanted a gay male friend! We'll go to the mall, get our nails and hair done. Then go shopping! Oh god. This is exactly what I've been waiting for. Thank you, Vegeta."

"…whu…"

"He's adorable. Short hair. He had it shaved for awhile. He might be willing to do that again, for you. Since you're into bald guys."

He looked like a scared child left alone in a crowded store, abandoned and lost. "A…sparring partner? No human can keep up with me."

Bulma giggled. "Oh, I bet. And with those space taboos, I bet you've got a lot of sexual energy. Just don't knock the guy into walls or whatever. He's really good at curling my hair without burning it."

"…huh?"

"I love talking to you now. We can gossip over men. Over Goku, even, if that helps. It will be great." She was leaning back, imagining the great time to be had. "I know of a couple of gay Capsule Corp workers. But you really shouldn't shit wear you eat, so it might be best not to date one of those. Still, we can always try personal adds.

"Can see it now. 'Singe, attractive male in great shape seeks athletic boyfriend for a good time.' No, that might be a little generic. Hm, how do we sidestep the issue of height? 'Average height gay male seeks other single men looking for a good time'? Mm. Maybe we should try a dating website?

"But, regardless, you should meet my manicurist/hairstylist. He's a great guy. Tall, but not intimidating. Good sense of humor.

"You should have told me about your sexual preferences a long time ago, Vegeta. No, no, that's not nice of me. I should have known earlier. It's so obvious. Ugh, I can be such a dunce. But, hey, we'll go to the mall, eat a nice meal, and talk. You can tell me about the trials of growing up gay in space, and we'll say catty things about our friends.

"Go to store to store, you can carry my bags…it will be a great afternoon. I'm so glad to have met you. Glad that we're friends now. Let's get started complaining about Chi-Chi. Those old-fashioned clothes…and her raising Gohan. There's a Momma's Boy in the making. In ten years, he'll probably be joining us on these mall adventures.

"Let me get my jacket here. Say, do you think Piccolo has a thing for Goku too? Living with the guy, helping raise his kid. That, or he's into Chi-Chi. Or, maybe both of them.

"You don't mind me grabbing your arm like this, do you? Like, hahaha, a suitor. Funny. You know, a suitor. Like a date?"

"A mate?"

"Yeah, basically. That's kinda what some people do when they're going out. 'Mating.' So primitive, savage. You're going to probably do well with bears I bet. Are you into those? Otters? Seals? Pocket bears?"

He seemed unable to focus his eyes. Obviously, so relieved over having to not longer lie, he was just delighted and thinking over his new life. His hand was surprisingly gentle and his forearm distractingly solid. "To…eat?"

"Hahaha. In a way! Maybe we can pick you up some leather pants? But, anyway, back on our friends…once I found a dirty old magazine under the couch that was totally gay porn. Something about twinks and bears. I just laughed and put it back. But now, maybe it was a cry for help? Someone over there might totally empathize with your problem.

"Might be Krillin. He's definitely a cry for help. Would explain why he broke up with Maron. And his whole issues with women. Trying to fit yourself in the wrong hole. Hehe. I mean. Square peg in a round hole. It just won't work. You should talk to him." She patted his hand, watching his dazed face.

"And he's bald too. You know. In case. A backup."

The mall was a disaster. Right off the bat he freaked out over all the people there, threatening to kill everyone until security came by in golf carts and she had to hide him in a woman's dressing room. Telling him through the door that, "I swear, this isn't some mean joke or stereotype thing. They're just looking for a guy in tights and you'll be safer here."

Then later, when taking him to the hairstylist, he refused to come in. "It stinks in there."

"It's just hairspray! C'mon!"

"No!"

"Don't be a baby. You have to meet the guy I was telling you about."

Only he just sneered at the guy, claiming that he was a weak disgusting human and no, no he was not having any of this haircutting and manicure bullshit. Vegeta practically dragged her out of the place, nearly wheezing, while she checked out the mall map kiosks to find the nearest leather store. He did approve of the leather pants and shirt, "This is what humans should wear then? Animal skins? I suppose it will do." Bulma of course trying to steal herself and remind her that the well-built man in the tight clothes was flaming gay and was therefore very much off limits. Flaming. Gay.

"What about these boots, woman?"

Fate was a harsh mistress, giving as she took away.

And though he ate up hundreds of dollars at the foot court, he ignored her attempts at a good, catty conversation where they bitched over their dear friends. Not a single nod or grin or any acknowledgement. Not a good, gay male best friend; just a pig staring at her across the table, stuffing its face.

At least Yamcha had pretended to agree with her. And Goku was definitely good at nodding. Krillin would at least agree more to carry her bags.

"You suck at this, Vegeta. You just suck."

He was finishing another milkshake, and seemed to take her words literally. "Yes. Now go fetch me another of these."

"This is like going out with a straight guy! No. Worse! At least a straight man would flirt and compliment me!" she ranted, bashing at the table with a tray until the security caught up with them and she and Vegeta had to flee before he blew something up.

"Vegeta." She shook her head as she shoved him into the passenger seat of her shiny new car. "We have to get you a man."

Whatever he yelled in response was muffled by the seat cushion.

The ride home was silent, punishment for his actions at the mall. She did have to smirk a little at how he stuck his head out of the car window, enjoying the breeze. Finally, after another song she didn't care for played on the radio, she broke the silence. "So. Veggie?"

"Huh? What did you call me?"

Bulma flapped a hand. "You call me 'woman', I call you 'Veggie.' That's what friends do."

"'Friends?'" The word was unfamiliar to him. His hair flapped alarmingly in the wind.

"Yeah!" she punched his shoulder. "Girlfriend!"

"What?"

"Listen. You have to tell me, since I'm super curious, were you a top or bottom with Nappa? It was a bottom, wasn't it? Yeah, I know you're type. All hardcore on the outside, controlling, but love to be dominated. It's cute. Sweet.

"What we need is to find you a weak-looking top. Someone who cowers before you and follows your command, with a few snappy lines and comebacks as a defense.

"Hmm."

"Words may have a place in the battlefield to throw an enemy off balance, but I want a sparring partner who doesn't talk."

"Oh-ho. A ballgag needed then?"

"A what?"

"Vegeta, you're so sheltered."

He stared at the ceiling, confused.

"You know. You'd look good in mascara."

"In what?"

"Nothing. And with those leather pants…damn. You know what? YOU KNOW WHAT!"

"Why are you yelling?"

She nearly hit a semi. "We have to take you and that great ass to a gay bar! Oh my god. Why did it take me so long to think of that? It's so obvious. The mall? You? You can't pick someone up at the mall. That's too tame. You'll meet someone in a sleazy bar dancing annoyingly to Lady Gaga! Then you'll go to pick a fight with them.

"Or on the battlefield, I guess."

"Battlefield?" He clung to the familiar word. "Battle?"

"'Cuz, that's what love is, you know. A battlefield."

Vegeta was moving away from her, sliding towards the door that she immediately enacted the child safety lock on.

"Honey. We have to teach you about female singers from the last two decades."

"'Honey'? Where is this honey?"

"At home. Where we're going right now. Oh, and at a bar. In the drinks."

Vegeta appeared to be mulling this over. "I have training to do, woman."

"Where do you think I'm taking you? This is training. For life. Look, look at me, Veggie."

"Don't you call me that!"

"You need to relax. Meet more people. You keep training like this, you're going to pull a muscle. Spend a night on the town, learning about humans. Really, we're not so bad. And dancing can be a serious workout."

He looked at the windows, out them, wondered perhaps what he was doing here, with her. Evaluating his life. She knew all about that. Looking at Yamcha go on and on about people she had no interest in, watching him fix his hair, she would reflect on her own time on this planet. To say nothing about spending a long night programming only to discover it was all unnecessary and that the files hadn't disappeared after all. Or spending another hour with Krillin, making fun of bad sitcoms from twenty years ago (the hair!) and realizing that you'd been there for five hours.

Only Vegeta should be glad to be here with her. Grateful. She was here, open and nonjudgmental, and he refused to be nice to her. At the least, shouldn't he have agreed with her complaints of Chi-Chi hogging Goku? Wasn't that one thing they could be on the same side about?

"Woman." His voice was quiet. She waited, trying to not breathe too loudly. "If you let me have that cake without your usual complaints and nagging, I will accompany to this place with the honey."

"Oh, Vegeta. That makes me so happy." She sniffled, more from the air conditioner blowing stale air into her face than emotion. "You won't regret this.

"I feel so close to you."

"We are separated by that piece of machinery used to move this…'vehicle.'"

"But inside. Inside, Veggie. We're getting close. You know, emotions, feelings?"

The Saiyan was looking at her, Bulma realized, just like Goku had whenever she would pull out capsules to be proclaimed a witch. Or when he'd discovered what being a girl meant. That weary hostility that had irked her even as an innocent lovely younger woman. Just trust her, goddamnit. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Tonight will be awesome. I'll dress up in something revealing. We'll find some good bars to go to. Dance a little. Drink a lot. Find some mysterious handsome men to go home with. I'll bring lots of cash and some pens and nametags to put on our clothes for the cabs back home.

"God, I love this. I'm so glad I became your shoulder to lean upon. That you were willing to tell me how you felt."

"About…honey? And I do not lean on you."

"Emotionally. I'm your wailing wall. God, it makes so much sense now. All that yelling: pent up frustration. A cry for help. I'm so sorry it took so long to come to this point. God. I love this song. Sing with me, Veggie?"

"What? No. Do not call me by that name!"

The rest of the ride was passed by her wailing along with the radio, leaning over to grab and cling to Vegeta's arm to keep him from running out of the car. Any upcoming cars wouldn't even scratch him, as they both knew, so she had to really hold on and prevent him from running into the freeway. He didn't dare actually hit her, so they had a brief awkward slap fight that had her laughing and him cursing her existence, her birth, her parents, her planet.

With the wind blowing her hair back, Vegeta hissing insults, her singing along to a great song on the radio…This, this was exactly what she wanted from life. Sure, there were other small things, such a boyfriend and all that. But right now she was satisfied and utterly in the moment.

"I want that cake, woman!"

"Fine! Fine!—Veggie Dip!"

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me! Bitch!"

They nearly crashed into the front of her house, stopping right in the middle of the huge sloping green lawn. He managed to open the door without tearing it off the hinges, and she sighed and got out herself. Her parking job at its forty two degree angle was just foreshadowing for the chaos that was to happen that night.

Her yelling was directed at his back. "Get your body spray and meet me out here in two hours! You hear me, bitch! Two hours!"

When he flipped her off, she had to laugh. A brilliant idea went off in her head, like a small pipe bomb. "Wait. Vegeta? Hang on. You can help me get my clothes for tonight!"

Bulma dragged him through the house, not caring in the least over the shocked and confused expression on her employee's faces. Most of them knew Vegeta, even from his reputation alone, and the sight of him being dragged by their boss was a strange one. One that got them back to working a hundred and twenty percent since who knew what she might do to them next. The clicking of the keys only increased in volume to nearly block out her, "Would it be tacky to wear a complimentary outfit?"

Somehow, they descended up the stairs to her bedroom. Bulma had to admire the length of his neck and span of his shoulders as she yanked him along and he tensed over and over again. He couldn't quite bring himself to push her down the stairs, it seemed. Sweet, for him. Popping open the door was harder to do one-handed, and she could mentally hear her mother scolding her and remembered holding trays, books, equipment, Yamcha's collar mush like how she grasped the Saiyan's arm.

He seemed to be sweating, "What is this about having to pick your clothes for you?"

"Nothing too slutty—ha, who am I kidding. Even your hair is flaming. Help me pick something out that a straight guy would be into."

"'Straight'?"

"Sometimes, I swear, you're like one of my mom's parrots. Yeah. Straight." She pulled her green top that brought out the color in her hair and threw it onto the bed. Then yanking off her pants to a harsh gasp behind her.

"What?" She bent down to pull off her shoes, trying to look behind her, getting hair in her eyes.

Half his face was all bulging eyes and raising eyebrows, and the rest was a gaping mouth. "Woman! You—put your clothing on."

"That's the point! You have to help me decide what to wear!"

"Anything!"

"Are you blushing? Really? This should be nothing for you."

"...I am not, embarrassed. Get clothes on. Now."

"I will." She sauntered over to the closet and threw open the doors. "So, blue, then?"

"Whatever covers your nudity."

Bulma began trying on clothes, barely listening to his muttering.

"What has gotten into you woman?

"Are you suffering from another 'flu'?

"Will you attempt to crawl into my bed again and demand that I read you stories?"

"I was sleepwalking! Does this bring out the color in my eyes?" Eyelashes fluttered in his direction. Vegeta leaned back a few more inches, eyes wide and frightened. "Well? Does it?"

"Yes. Fine. Fine." He stared down at his knees, suddenly small in her comfy overstuffed chair. When she threw her bra in his direction, the Saiyan jumped like she'd thrown a grenade.

"Vegeta. This is a primal thing. I have to choose the best clothes for tonight. We'll be on the hunt for cute, possibly bisexual guys. This is important."

"Wear clothes that won't make noise. No, not those shoes, look at the ridiculous spiky part at the end, you won't be able to run in those."

He refused point-blank to even look at her when she was fully naked and doing her hair and makeup. His only response, even after she'd dressed, was to say she looked like a fool in that body paint. "But not an unfrightening one, I suppose."

"Bastard."

"We are going hunting, yes?"

"Oh. Yes."

"Finally. A sane activity for us to participate in." Then he began going on about the thrill of hunting, about being hungry, about how he could depend only on himself as a warrior should while fighting off her attempts at putting mascara on him.

"That will not help at all in frightening prey or blending in. "

"Actually, yes, it will help camouflage you to look normal."

"What? That is not proper camouflage."

"It will at the club we're going to."

"Club? As in, to 'club' someone?"

"…I, hmm. Maybe? I never thought about it. C'mon. In those leather pants, they'll be fighting to get close to you."

"Ah." He went along more willingly now. "The leather produces pheromones of some sort to attract the prey? Makes sense."

"That's why it was so expensive."

"But shouldn't you be wearing some as well? Rather than a flimsy dress?"

"Oh, I don't need that to go hunting at a club."

"Your arrogance will leave you hungry tonight woman." Vegeta smirked. "I will not share any of my own spoils with you."

"Like I want anything that went for you. Now, let's get going."

The night turned out to be another Gay Best Friend first time event that opened the doors and announced to the world what they both were. A nice gay initiation. They, screaming at each other, yelling that the other was an incomprehensible, unforgivable bitch, made their way to the car that they couldn't find in the parking lot. A heel was broken and sent the dirty pavement flying into her face. Vegeta's laughter echoed through the lot, a disturbing sound against the heavy bass from the club. She ended up crying in the car while he told her to stop whimpering and pull herself together. There was glitter coating everything.

"You're such a bastard! Why do you have to ruin everything?"

He vowed to never go anywhere with her, ever again. "Never, woman. No cake is worth this."

"I even ruined a perfectly good, new, pair of shoes for you."

"I told you not to wear such high, awkward footwear. You cannot run in those. Humans." Vegeta shook his head at his reflection in the window.

"You nearly killed a dozen people, Vegeta! We'll probably be on the news!"

He slammed a fist, gloveless, creepily humanlike, onto the dashboard hard enough to make a dent with cracks radiating from it. "Why else would you take me hunting? You pointed at them, told me that they were 'prey.' I should have known it was too good to be true."

She remembered her flamboyant flourish towards the dancing crowd of people beneath the metal bars of the balcony entrance. How awesome everything had been. How someone had even asked for her ID. The way the bright neon lights and blueish-silverish walls no doubt brought out the aqua in her hair. Then Vegeta had began attacking people. Literally attacked them until she jumped into the mosh/murder pit and stopped him. All while a soundtrack of happy, sexy pop music played in the background.

"My god. What is wrong with you? Were you dropped on your head as a young child?"

"…yes."

"You used the bowl of condoms to brain someone. How, how Vegeta, are we going to ever find you a boyfriend?"

"I don't need 'friends.'"

All the emotions swirling around came out as tears. "You're so damaged. I'm so sorry. I, this must be difficult for you. Struggling with coming out of the closet. Then me, me shoving you into the deep end of gayness. I'm sorry." It now seemed so sad to reflect on how he'd winced at the loud music, at his refusal to dance, the sneering over her suggestion to meet some new 'friends' here.

"You…should be?"

She dabbed at her eyes, trying not to get glitter in them. "Don't worry. We'll meet someone for you. Someone who will be able to put up with your hostility. Someone, I don't know, you can spar with."

"I would not necessarily be against having a sparring partner. So long as they don't get in my way. As you have."

"And you didn't actually murder anyone."

"To kill them off immediately would ruin the fun."

"Hey. On the good side, I think some of those guys were checking you out before you started trying to kill them. Before you ask, I meant that they were impressed by your physique."

Vegeta seemed surprised. So, so sad. He could be such a decent person with a little (lots) of work. "Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to defeat them if they were prepared to bow to their betters."

"They were going to do way more than that had you just been nice."

"Would they have brought me food?"

"Didn't you see the whipped cream on the bar counter?"

Vegeta went silent, thinking it over. Thinking on what the night could have had. No doubt haunted by missing out on the chance to lick whipped cream off someone's chiseled abs. A handsome tanned individual who had the most exquisite cheekbones…no, this was Vegeta after all. Probably into someone bald, possibly with facial hair, all well-built and shy and quick to roll over. But still, the addition of food in their sex life.

"Poor, poor Vegeta.

"Whoever are we going to find to deal with you?"

"Deal? I don't need someone to 'deal' with me. When I wipe this pathetic mudball clean, none of you will be able stop me. Not even Kakarotte. Let alone any weakling humans.

"…Pathetic, the bunch of you…

"…Why I haven't wiped this planet from existence is a mystery…"

Their ride home continued with quiet reflection and Vegeta's threatening muttering.

She woke up to a grey sky pelting down hail and more tears than she'd shed last night. Vegeta, on the floor passed out and covered in frosting, was a sight that needed lots of coffee to properly comprehend. Bulma stepped around him gingerly, a little touched by the crumbs on his chin and sugar stained hands. Right, right, he'd agreed to a sleepover, on the grounds of having his own bed. Only she hadn't wanted to drag up a cot, and sometime after the night news and late, late night shows he'd passed out, drooling, into what was left of her mother's pastries. There was a bagel still gripped in one hand.

He reminded her of herself, on Christmas, to be found passed out clutched a present, unable to sleep in her own bed and be away from her new stuff.

Smiling, she walked to her private bathroom to clean off the leftover makeup and to put her thoughts in order. Even while pulling on new clothes (and scaring the hell out of a confused, sleepy Vegeta), she was mentally flipping through a rolodex and wondered how deeply committed the short Saiyan was to tall, muscular, bald men.

Chi-Chi was all delight when Bulma called her, and even more cheered up hearing her request.

Vegeta spent the morning in the kitchen and living room, giving her suspicious looks over her offers of chamomile tea for his aching stomach. "I need to get training, woman. How long are you going to keep badgering me?"

"Just until you feel better. Want me to rub your shoulders? Aw. You're blushing again."

"Don't touch me!"

But when she left him, to make a few adjustments to his training chamber, he was suspicious of her disappearance. And of the small smirk on her face.

"Where were you, woman?"

The knock at the front door made him turn his frown in that direction.

"Oh. My guest must be here. C'mon, Vegeta. You should meet him."

"Why? Why?"

Piccolo's own wide shoulders dripped rain onto the carpets. "What is it exactly that you needed Bulma, that required me to come all the way out here?"

That snarling growl made her want to run away, but the shiny head kept her in place for Vegeta's sake. He was her friend now, and friends helped each other out in these situations. After all, none of the gang had killed Krillin's ex-girlfriend, Maron, now matter how dumb and evil and rude she had been. And Piccolo had never called her an old lady. He definitely was better than that. Maybe these two hooking up would calm them both down and make the world a better, more peaceful place.

Plus, with the androids coming and all, maybe it was best for everyone to get any major life goals out of the way while they still could. Not a bad thing to believe. She made a note to tell Yamcha that she was sorry for the hate gift of all those singing deliveryman who arrived night and day for over a week to inform him that Bulma Briefs wanted him to fuck off, in all keys and tones. To Goku for all the mean things she'd said to him over the years and for leaving him behind on an exploding-Namek. Chi-Chi, for making fun of her clothes and for not better civilizing Goku. Gohan for laughing at his bowl haircut and for trying to leave him behind on an exploding-Namek. Krillin, for, well, the yelling and laughing and mocking and teasing.

Have to make it up to all of them.

"Come right in, Piccolo. Say, you know, Vegeta, right?"

He looked disturbed despite not having eyebrows to properly and fully express this fact. "Of…course I have."

"What's wrong with you, woman?"

"Nothing. I just wanted you two to be properly introduced. To set things in the right direction."

"What direction?"

"Say, doesn't Vegeta look nice in his new clothes…even with the frosting still on it. Damnit, Vegeta. Do you like cake, Piccolo?"

"No."

"I see. Tea?"

"No. Why am I here, Bulma?"

"And Vegeta, don't you think Piccolo is looking healthy this morning? Nice and tall?"

"…what?" His nostrils were flared and white. "Is that a comment on my own stature?"

"No, no! I'm sure Piccolo likes shorter guys. Er. Yeah. So, how've you been, Piccolo?"

The green-skinned man was apparently stuck trying to understand her last comment, and didn't answer.

"You two should go sparring. In the back. Talk a little. Enjoy each other's company." When she winked at Vegeta, he took an alarmed step back. All silent and pale, haunted. Not the most attractive look to most, but who knew what Piccolo was into?

…who really wanted to? But it wasn't for her to judge her new friend. She left them to stare awkwardly at each other, then shrug in that stupid male way and go out to Vegeta's training chamber, grunting at each other. Eyes all narrowed at each other in a way that she had once believed was just suspicion. Cute, adorable, really.

She sat down in front of the television, flipping through channels, trying not to call Krillin and ask when he thought of that marathon of the certain program they so despised. He was probably sitting alone, in that stupid pink house, looking at the phone with the remote in his hands. The poor guy was just as lonely as Vegeta was. Had been.

Bulma smiled, when she heard the heavy bass coming from out back. Her own personal mix of songs that was sure to get those two together; mostly older basic obvious stuff since why would those two need any subtlety? Then she heard the cursing, her own name, "Oh god, this is what they listen to before, before-!" a shatter of glass that was probably from the mirror she'd put on the ceiling of the training chamber. More cursing. A door opening. Heavy footsteps.

"Woman. Have you lost your mind?" His tone was oddly conversational. But his face was etched with anger.

"So. Where's Piccolo?"

"…the Namek left."

"Before you two even got to 'training'? I thought he'd jump at the chance to move on from Goku and Chi-Chi. Don't worry; I got the seed planted in his mind. He'll be back."

The Saiyan's mouth kept opening and closing.

"I am going to go train now."

"Have fun. Don't worry; I left lots of lube in the bottom drawer to the furthest right. Don't be ashamed of your thoughts and feelings. Just go with it."

She turned the TV off, right as Vegeta tore out the sound system and threw the speaker out onto the front law, and went to go back into the lab. There was still her usual work to do that was beginning to pile up. And if Piccolo came back to run into Vegeta's arms, then she really didn't want to hear it. Not that she wouldn't have minded hearing that the uptight Saiyan getting laid, maybe even listening in and imagining the juicy details, but Piccolo there…that killed the mood.

The scientist only came up to the fresh air for dinner. Only to spot a bruised, sweaty Vegeta lounging on the couch in dented armor, eyes dull. No doubt reflecting on what he had missed out by Piccolo leaving him. She had to wonder if he'd used the lotion she'd left for him. He was surrounded by half-empty containers and packages of food. Either he had beaten himself raw, or he'd been too beaten down by his life and training to do anything in that direction.

"This is dire." She looked at Vegeta, at the potato chip crumbs on his armor, the comfortable way he lounged in that chair.

"Dinner's in one hour, dears!" Her mother twittered in the next room.

"Let's just sit and have a nice meal. Talk things out. We don't need Piccolo, now, do we?"

"For the dragonballs, yes."

So brave, to put up such a strong front. Admirable. It was a strange word to connect to the sociopathic alien who had come to kill everyone, and had indeed been responsible for the death of her ex-boyfriend, but there it was. He was strong and brave after all he'd been through, and she admired him for that. How everyone must have looked down on him, for the way he was, for the way he'd been born.

She made sure he had the nicest portions of the meal, and admired the way he looked so haughty in the fluorescent lights hanging overhead. "More roast?" The sight of him stuffing his face made her smile, and feel almost envy for the lucky guy that got him into his bed.

When Krillin called the following day, Vegeta was almost literally dragging himself from the training chamber into the kitchen, and it all fell into place.

She helped Vegeta up into an armchair, ignoring his floundering attempts to whack at her. "Going to have to call in the big guns. Or, rather, the small ones. Small, but not unpleasant. Funny. Kind.

"Sit down. You know, I've been going about this the whole way: I've been listening to you. When, really, I need to listen to myself. You don't need a huge muscular bald man who will tie you up and spank you to your heart's content—"

"What?"

"You need a nice man, someone sweet who will listen to all your problems and won't judge you either. Someone with a sense of humor, who knows not to take you seriously." She flittered away to light the candles resting grandly in their silver sticks. Beneath them, the white tablecloth shined like a sheet of ice.

The knock at the front door to the home made Vegeta stop trying to slide and sneak away. "That better not be the Namek again."

"It won't be." Although, what if Piccolo did come back, ready to accept his feelings and move past his feelings for the Son couple? Which would Vegeta pick? He seemed like such a masochist at times, so he might for the damaged big alien rather than the kind, funny man that Bulma had picked out for him. More square pegs in a round hole.

Ugh. Did Piccolo even have…

No, goddamnit, he needed to listen to her.

One of the robots let Krillin into the room, the mechanical clangs and voice met with a nasal teasing tone. He smiled at Bulma, and she was pleased to see that he'd been definitely working out to prepare for the androids. In his casual clean clothes, he looked like a perfectly nice man. A little odd, and a little short, but hey, what was Vegeta, if not those as well?

"So, how've you been lately?"

She waved off his question. "Oh fine. You know, a little busy. But Vegeta, here, he's been a little down."

There was the typical back-of-the-head scratching. "Yeah. I heard you and Yamcha broke up."

"No big deal. If he wants to run off with my ex-secretary, then I wish joy upon both of them. A rain of joy on their houses."

"Errr…"

"But this isn't about Yamcha. I didn't bring you here to talk about Yamcha."

Krillin was sweating and pulling away a little. "Really? Oh, hey, Vegeta. Still here I see."

The Saiyan was sitting in the chair like a throne, glaring at them both. "What do you want, shrimp?"

"Bulma called me?—is that…candles over there?"

"Oh, yes. You like them?"

He looked more disturbed than ever. "Oooooh. Sure. Pretty."

"Sit down, sit down."

"You know, um, are you sure you and Yamcha are done and all that? It's just, this is weird. Shouldn't he be here?"

"What?

Vegeta broke into their conversation, stumbling over to them with his mouth all pursed stubbornly. "Where's the food, woman?"

"Under the trays. Sit down." Bulma pulled out chairs for both of them. The Saiyan collapsed into his seat, but Krillin gingerly crept into his. Separated by the beautiful teakwood of the table, they glanced at each other before immediately turning away. She tried not to grin at them. They didn't seem to be fighting or glaring at each other, but whether or not that was a good sign was anyone's guess. Vegeta seemed so competitive; sure, Krillin was better for him emotionally, but did he know that? He really needed someone to just accept him without arguing with him over every damn thing.

A blanket of trust and love and—

"Woman, where's the damn food?"

"Fine! I'll go get it, you big Queen!"

"Why is there so little of it?"

"Because you're a damn pig! It's supposed to look pretty."

He stared at her, unable to understand.

"Just eat it. It's perfectly nice."

"It looks nice, Bulma," Krillin piped in. Tenderly, he nudged at a few chips of chicken on a basil leaf. "Your mom made it, right?"

"Yes. Just eat it."

She grabbed her own meal from the fridge, some leftovers, and was almost envious as she watched the two pecking and stabbing at their plates. A beautiful, well-cooked meal in romantic light, staring deep into each other's eyes, having the entire evening together.

"Are these potatoes? Did you get some of those? They're white…"

"I don't think so…"

"They're hidden in the little meat tower thing."

"This is pitiful."

"Missus Briefs just wanted to make something fancy. That's all."

"There's barely anything here."

"I guess she wasn't preparing food for a Sayian…"

They were connecting.

"You're welcome, Vegeta," she mouthed. Then she took her own meal and left them in peace. Both were much too shy to make a move when she was there, watching every remark, taking in every glance exchanged, admiring their muscles lit from the candlelight.

She was fine, really, with being single and all. Time for self-reflection and improvement, and had never actually needed a man at her side. But even so, it was depressing to eat alone in her lab, her plate balanced on her knees as she fussed with a keyboard. It was so quiet. Spending all that time with Vegeta hadn't prepared her for silence.

It was one thing to be all for Vegeta meeting someone, but the thought of him actually shoving Krillin onto the table, tearing his clothes off, armed with a squeeze bottle of honey, it was difficult. They were so lucky to have each other.

Everyone seemed to be hooking up. Chi-Chi and Goku (and possibly Piccolo), Tien and Chaotzu, Yamcha and that secretary who had immediately began plotting to steal him away as soon as she saw him, maybe Puar even had someone, and there weren't bad odds on Oolong and Master Roshi having some disgusting weird thing going on. And now Krillin and Vegeta were probably banging on her dining room table.

She went upstairs, unable to bring herself to sleep in her lab.

Carefully, Bulma held up a hand to block out any action she might witness. All rigid muscles beginning to tremble, pale and tan flesh together, lapping at the sweaty salty skin, biting at pressure points. Oh god. Depressed and horny was the absolute worse combination.

Still, she was such a kind caring individual that she hoped for their sake that they'd gotten lube of some sort.

The living room was blue-lit, bags of snacks surrounding the couch where the two fighters sat. Vegeta was half-sunk into the fabric, while Krillin handed over a pizza box and explained something about what was on the TV screen. The Saiyan barely glanced at him.

"Krillin? Vegeta?"

"Oh, hey, Bulma. You're still up?"

"What is this?"

"Oh. We um, ordered out. We were still a little hungry. The pizza guy, um, actually it was a pizza girl, and the driver though, he was a guy, I think…they were kinda weird. And they complained about the tip I gave them. Said they wanted more than my tip, but eh, the pizza was a little cold-

"Anyway, they charged it to you guys. Capsule Corp. Sorry."

"It's alright. I guess."

"Oh, and Yamcha called me to tell you he was um, sorry for what happened. Seemed really upset. Scared the pizza twins away, pretty much. I think he and his girlfriend are having a fight."

"Well. Good for them."

"Yeah." He hopped off the couch, the very soul of cuteness and ease. "I should be getting back. Whenever I leave Master Roshi and Oolong alone, the house always gets wrecked and covered in porn and lotions."

She held her arms out in disbelief. "…you're just going to leave like this?"

"Um. Bye? See you later? Sorry for the pizza bill? Hey, see you later Vegeta." Krillin nodded in a perfectly friendly, platonic male way to Vegeta who barely seemed to notice him.

The blue-haired woman grabbed him by his jacket. "You're leaving?" He didn't look debauched at all. Or maybe Vegeta just hadn't been thorough enough? Shouldn't there at least not be creases in his jeans from where he'd ironed them? Had Vegeta just been very neat?

"Is there a mess in the kitchen I should know about, Krillin?"

The small guy looked a little guilty. "There are some dirty dishes in the sink. I could go wash them, if you want."

"No." There was steel in her voice, and she bit down on her tongue to keep from yelling at Vegeta. "It's alright. Have a nice trip home."

He waved goodbye, and got out as soon as he could. Krillin was always good at guessing when her rages would begin and when to get out. Came from growing up with Launch, maybe.

Bulma turned to, on, Vegeta, nearly yelling. "All this time, all the struggles, the bloodshed, the pain. Just to find you a boyfriend. And you couldn't even do that! You couldn't even do him!

"It's Krillin for god's sake. How hard could it be to get into his pants?"

The spiky-headed man could barely bring himself to even look at her while she kicked dented food boxes and greasy bags around the room. "I told you, I am not interest in friends. Or…human's pants."

"A companion then."

"Why would I need that? Is this some human behavior I am not aware of?"

"A boyfriend! A guy to date you! A man for you to be with. To spend at least a night together, or maybe a life with. You know, sharing a room with, a training chamber maybe, a spaceship, a home with?"

He was pale in the flickering light. "Why would I want to spent the rest of my life with another being? Nappa was bad enough."

"…what?"

"Having to travel with that moron was intolerable. There is a reason why I killed that weak fool."

"Travel? Is that all you two did? Never sharing a bed? Sleeping with each other?"

"No. Always we slept in separate compartments."

She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. "You never saw him naked? Or were naked around him?"

"What? Only when necessary, such as having to bathe in the same area."

"…you're not gay!" It started off as a hiss and ended as a scream.

"'Gay'?"

The word was obviously not in his lexicon. He had no idea what she was talking about. Maybe had never had any idea.

"You're, you're…not into men?"

"Into? What does this mean, 'into'?"

"Do you prefer the company of men, Vegeta?"

"I prefer the company of strong warriors." He thought it over. "Most of those tend to be men, so, yes, I supposed I do 'prefer men.'"

Bulma stared at him with disbelief and something close to rage. "To fight with?"

Vegeta stared back, confused. "Of course."

"Not to fuck with?"

"'Fuck with'? I suppose you could say I 'fucked with' that weakling Nappa. When I killed him."

"No, goddamnit, to have sex with. Procreate with! Sleep with!"

"I sleep alone. And there is no one left worthy of mating with."

"Goddamn." She whispered, her head heavy. "Forget having babies with. Just sex. Just the act of having a child. You do not want to do this with men?"

"How can two males have a child? Is, is that what humans do?"

"No! Fuck. Fuuuuuck. You're straight, aren't you?"

"Again this word. I do not understand what you are jabbering on about."

"Bastard! You're into women, aren't you? Which would you like to see naked, a man or a woman?"

"I don't care to see anyone nude."

She literally reached over to take a swing at him, knowing that it was pointless. "You're not gay! You're, you're asexual or something! Goddamn!"

"'Asexual'?"

"Oh my god, oh my god. I let you see me naked!"

"I know! I was there! I had to witness that!"

"My god. And the club. It's probably a hate crime now. And…jeez. Piccolo must think I'm insane. And Krillin. And maybe Chi-Chi. And my manicurist."

"Are you not insane, woman? What was the purpose of all this?"

"To…set you up with someone. A nice man for you to have intercourse with."

He grimaced. "I do not wish to have intercourse with anyone."

"I've put that together now, Vegeta." She collapsed onto the couch next to him. It was very easy to lay there, boneless. "No sexy boyfriends for either of us."

Vegeta grunted and inched away.

"No, no. Stay here. I need company right now. Let's just sit here, and absorb all of what we went through these past days. Hold my hand. Go on."

"…"

"That's nice…sure you're asexual?"

"I don't know what that means. I don't understand any of the words that come out of your mouth anymore."

"It means…come here. Let's see how gay you may or may not be. Now, where's that lube I gave you earlier?"

Again, silence.

"My god, did you actually use it?"
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Space Taboos