Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just the idea.
Authors Note: This isn't the typical side we see of Vegeta and it'd been hover around in the back of my head till I finally decided to write it. I wanted to see another side of Vegeta instead of the narrow minded I have to train. I wanted to see a more zealous side of him. So here is what I got. Read and I hope you enjoy.
Cold black eyes stared at the canvas before him. It was amazing that someone such, as cold hearted and cruel as he had hidden talents such as these. The mixture and swirls of colors covered the once white and bleak canvas. The picture that was portrayed was one of his home planet. It had been so full of life and color, or at least that was how he remembered it from his childhood. The bright greens the rich deep blues and the bold reds. Only when he painted did he remember his home world so vividly and wish he was home. Earth was nothing like his home he longed for, but he knew that he would never see it again.
Sighing deeply Vegeta picked up the canvas he'd been working on and shoved it into his closet where the rest of his paintings where kept. He made sure that he kept his room spotless, not only because of his military mindset but because he didn't want the woman's mother finding his secrets and showing it for the world to see. Painting always seemed to relieve stress and frustration when training couldn't. Glancing over at the clock Vegeta growled knowing that he should get back to training but also knew that he had wasted his rest time with painting instead of much needed sleep. He walked into the bathroom, which was spotless and only held a few things on the counter: a toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, a razor, shaving cream, and mouth wash. Nothing cluttered his room or his counter in the bathroom.
It had taken him a while to get used to sleeping in a room this large. When he'd been under Freeza he'd only been giving a small cell with a cot and a place to store extra uniforms and nothing more. He did like the freedom of movement. Turning on the hot water tap he splashed water on his face to clear his head before turning off the running water and looked at himself in the mirror. "Growing weak," he sneered ripping the towel from the wall and wiped his face, "Never going to beat that fool stopping for useless things."
Throwing the towel in the hamper by the bathroom door he walked out of his room. Turning down the stairs and out through the kitchen he bumped into Bulma who was just coming in from what seemed like work. Her hair was pulled back into a clip, a few strands escaped when she'd mussed it absent mindedly. She was wearing a plain colored skirt with matching jacket and a white button up blouse underneath. She was placing her purse on the counter along with her keys when she looked up and noticed him standing in the door way. She gave him a small smile and looked over at the clock and gave a yawn reminding him of what time it actually was.
"You're getting an early start this morning," she said as she reached down and pulled off her heels and threw them next to the door. Groaning she rubbed her eyes and went around to the fridge and pulled out a sandwich with a note from her mother on it. She smiled and placed it on the table and then went about getting a glass of water.
"Hum," he grunted walking past her and out the door.
She watched him go and rolled her eyes. "Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta," she muttered taking her plate and glass of water up to her room. It had been a long day and night and she'd have to start all over again in four hours. Taking over the company from her father had proved to be much more time consuming and difficult then she'd first imagined. Putting the plate and glass down on her bed side table she peeled off her jacket and threw it in the hamper along with her skirt and blouse. She pulled out an old oversized t-shirt along with some cotton shorts. She then sat on the bed and removed the irritating panty hose she hated to wear and changed into her night clothes. Turning off the overhead light and turning on the lamp she sat back against her pillows and eat in silence as she fixed her alarm to go off at four thirty. Finishing the sandwich she downed the water and left the dishes on the small table before turning off the lamp and snuggling under the covers and sighed. "God," she moaned twisting her back hoping it would crack, "I don't know how much more I can take this." Looking at the glowing numbers once more she cursed before rolling over and closing her eyes in blissful peace.
Meanwhile Vegeta fought off fatigue as he round housed the air and followed through with a series of swift precise punches. An upper cut, jab, kick and repeated till sweat appeared over his body as the force of gravity pushed down on his body making his task all the more difficult. It went on for hours neither his concentration wavered nor his body sluggish. Only when his stomach growled did he stop and power down the G.R. Picking up one of the white towels Bulma's mother always restocked he wiped off his face and hung it around his neck. The sun had risen a few hours ago and it was about noon to his body, but hadn't checked the clock to be sure of it.
When he stepped into the kitchen the smells of rice, dumplings and various other foods assaulted his senses and his stomach growled once again. He sat down at the table and patiently waited for his food. Bulma's mother was humming as she cooked his lunch, when she noticed him she smiled and gave a shrill shriek, making Vegeta wish he hadn't promised Bulma on his honor in return for housing and training equipment that he wouldn't harm her family while he stayed with them. Clenching his teeth he kept his mouth shut and his hands down at his sides.
"Oh, Hello Mr. Vegeta," Bulma's mother said sweetly as she set a few plates of food in front of him. "How are you? It's a wonderful morning isn't it?" Vegeta grunted when time called for it but otherwise let her chatter and prattle on about whatever was on her mind. "And poor Bulma getting in at midnight, it's just not right."
Vegeta's eye narrowed as he began to eat his food faster. He wasn't about to listen to another word on how he needed find himself a wife and how she hinted at Bulma being the perfect wife for him. Finishing his meal quickly he picked up his empty plates and put them in the sink before leaving without a word. Sighing in relief he went back to the G.R., his sanctuary from this insane household.
Hours later, the sun was setting and the night was growing and there was a slight chill in the air signaling that fall was just around the corner. Vegeta was once again in his room with the canvas from the other night sitting before him. Except he wasn't painting, he was still simmering over the G.R. breaking again. It seemed like the damned thing needed fixing every few weeks. But that wasn't the worst of it, Bulma was once again working late and he wanted her to fix the damn thing.
This was going to prove for an outlet of his simmering anger. She always proved to be entertaining and a challenge when she was riled. Both slinging insults and curses as easily as punches were thrown. He heard her pull up and he mentally prepared himself for the usual. Picking up the canvas he put it in the closet and noted that he'd have to get some more paint, brushes, and canvas soon and find a place to put all the one's he'd done so far. There were about ten of them finished in his closet with a sheet draped over them.
Giving her enough time to get in the house and comfortable, he made his way down the stairs and smirked before setting his face in stone for the up coming battle. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water sitting in front of her. There was an empty plate off to the side where she'd eaten what her mother had left for her. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door way.
"The G.R. needs fixing."
Bulma looked up from hanging her head in her hands and glared at him. "Vegeta!" she groaned, "It's four in the morning and you can't just simple ask 'How was your day' could you?" She looked up and saw him smirking. "I guess not," she sighed picking up her empty dishes, "I'll be able to fix it next week."
"That's too long."
"Well, Vegeta there isn't anything I can do about it. So you'll just have to deal with it."
"I will not be kept waiting or do you not remember what Goku said?" He'd pushed himself off the wall and griped the island in the middle of the kitchen and leaned forward, his face level with Bulma's. "I would think you would want the protection of this Earth more then a company that wouldn't be here if the androids got there way. I'm sure if Goku asked you; you would drop everything for him, wouldn't you? Maybe you find yourself in love with him and that is why you do everything you can to please him, hmm?"
Bulma slammed the plate and glass down on the island and gave him a murderous look. "Don't even start with me, Vegeta! I know what you're fucking trying to do and it's not going to work. So you'll just have to wait a week like I first said."
This wasn't how he'd expected her to react. She wasn't as vivid with her words and descriptions of how she'd deal with him. "Worthless," he muttered daring her to meet the challenge. She didn't say anything. She met his eye and walked out of the kitchen. Vegeta frowned and walked out to the garage, where Bulma worked on his practice bots and other machines to help him train. Picking up the tools he went into the G.R. and got to work. Since it was Earth's technology, it would take him a while to get used to it but he was sure he could fix it without her help. He'd taught himself many other things by doing and watching, so this shouldn't be too different from Freeza's ships.
The next few days Bulma hadn't run into Vegeta at all. Her mother had informed her that he'd come to eat then leave again. She assumed that Vegeta was just sulking plus it wasn't that much of an odd schedule for him anyways. It had been another late night at work getting everything caught up, business expenses paid, and organizing all the files her father had not gotten around to. It seemed like she'd never get finished. Yawning she put her empty plate in the sink and out of the corner of her eye she saw a light on in the GR.
"How?" she asked herself confused. If she hadn't fixed the GR. Then who did, maybe her father? Shacking her head, she slipped on her slippers and opened the sliding glass door. She stepped into the back yard and shivered pulling her robe closer to her body. The grass crunched softly under her foot steps as she walked across the lawn. She reached the steps of the GR and stood there waiting wondering if she should just enter or knock first.
Sighing she punched the key numbers and the door slide open. She walked in to hear a loud 'bump' and explicit curses coming from Vegeta's mouth. Some she understood while others made her eye brow rise in interest. She walked around the central control and saw Vegeta rubbing the back of his head. Tools were littered about near him and he had oil and grease stains on his shirt as well as face. It was an amusing sight.
"This is unexpected," she said smiling as she put her hands inside the pockets of her robe. "Had I known you could fix the GR yourself I wouldn't have bothered busting my ass to fix it all those other times."
"Don't count on it woman," Vegeta said turning to look at her with dark narrowed eyes. "I only did what was necessary to ensure my path."
"Yes, how could I forget your path to super saiyan and all powerful ruler of the universe?" she said as her lips twitched in attempts not to smile.
He scowled and turned back to what he was doing. "Leave if you have nothing of importance to say." He picked up a wrench and stuck his arm back through the opening of one of the control panels.
Bulma watched him for a few more minutes. "Why did you ask me all those times to fix it when you could do it yourself? Was it because it's beneath you?"
"Watch what you say, woman," he grunted. "You do not know me."
"No, I don't," she agreed still not moving. "So explain it to me."
Vegeta stopped what he was doing and turned back towards her. Getting off the floor he walked closer to her. He couldn't tower of her but he could glare her into a corner. "I said a week was unacceptable so I had to fix it somehow," he said in a cold calculating voice. "So I taught myself and since it was Earth technology it wasn't that hard." The deliberate insult made Bulma's cheeks redden and her eyes narrowed.
"Alright, Prince Vegeta," she said her voice dripping with malice and sarcasm, "Then tell me this, have you fixed the GR yet?"
Vegeta's eye twitched and Bulma knew right then that he hadn't fixed it yet. He also wasn't going to tell her that either. He wouldn't lie but he'd change the topic of their 'discussion'. Bulma decided to do it for him.
"How did you teach yourself anyways?" she asked walking around him to look under the panel and inspect it herself. She whistled when she saw he's done all the hard work for her.
"It's not hard to do," Vegeta said leaning against the middle control panel and letting her take over. "I did live and worked with advanced technology for years. Yours is just a little different then what I'm used to."
"I have to say I'm impressed," Bulma admitted as she picked up fixing the panel where he'd left off. "How many days did it take you?"
"Three," he answered watching her so he'd know what he had been doing wrong for the past three hours. Bulma made sure he saw exactly what she was doing. If he could fix it own his own then….he…wouldn't need her…anymore. She paused, now why had that bothered her? Shaking herself she continued working in silence. Maybe it had bothered her because he wouldn't search her out anymore; there would be no uplifting amusement to change the mountainous of her work day. She popped the sheet of metal in place when she was done.
"There, that should do it," she said taking a towel he had laying on the floor and wiping her hands off. "I guess I'll leave you to train since it's working again." He inclined his head and she walked out. The GR sprang to life as soon as the door slid close. Bulma shook her head and headed back inside. Vegeta might not need sleep but she did. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The next few days Bulma neither saw hide nor hair of Vegeta. He'd cooped himself up in the GR to make up for the lost time. It was the first time she'd actually gotten home at a decent hour. They had just finished having family dinner and her mother was doing extra laundry.
"Bulma, dear," her mother cooed from in the kitchen. Bulma leaned her head back over the back of the couch so she could see her mother. "Would you take these towels and clothes up to Mr. Vegeta's room?"
Bulma sighed and got off the couch and took the pile of clothes from her mother. "You would think we would pay people for this," she mumbled as she walked up the stairs and down the hall to Vegeta's room. She pushed the door open and walked in. She placed his clothes in the dresser then placed the towels in his bathroom. Everything was spotless she noticed not surprised.
She looked at the spandex suit she'd kept in her hands and decided to hang it up. It would get wrinkled if she folded it and put it in the drawer. She opened the closet to find it empty. That was surprising. She frowned then did a double take when she noticed the sheet covering bumps in his closet. Her eyes widened, it wasn't a body was it? It wasn't like she knew if he'd curved his killing nature. Then her rational side kicked in, the body would smell…if it was a body.
Closing her eyes she pulled the sheet out of the closet and opened one to look down. What she saw both surprised and stunned her. She picked up one of the painting and inspected it closely. Did Vegeta do this? She wondered as she put the one she was holding down to pick up another. They were beautiful and exotic, surely Vegeta hadn't painted these.
"What are you doing in here?" asked a gruff voice. Bulma jumped dropping the painting. She'd been caught; she took a steadying breath before turning around. His eyes were narrowed and he was furious, the tick in his jaw proved it. She'd been around enough to notice certain facial feature that warned her of his emotions.
"I was just putting up your clothes," she answered in a lame excuse. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone through your closet but I truly thought it was a body hidden under the sheet not paintings."
"Because I'm nothing but an animalist killer?" he asked his eyes flashing darkly.
"I didn't say that," she said frowning, "It just looked like a body and really if you were me would you expect paintings? By the way did you actually do this?"
"Get out!" he shouted at her and pointed to the door. She 'eeped' and quickly left the room. She hadn't thought he'd been that angry. You would think she'd just found his secret porn stash or something and not paintings. She turned just as the door was slammed shut. She frowned with a side ways glance before shaking her head and going to her own room.
From working odd hours, Bulma couldn't fall asleep. She glanced at her clock which read eleven thirty and huffed as she turned over in her bed again. "This isn't fair," she moaned pulling the pillow closer and squeezing her eyes shut. "I was going to get a good amount of sleep tonight." She sat up in her bed and turned on the lamp. Huffing she leaned down and picked up a book she'd been trying to read for the past month.
She kept reading the same page and by the fourth time she'd read it she put the book down. She threw the covers off her and got up. "This is stupid," she muttered opening the door and walking down to the kitchen. She slowed when she came past Vegeta's door. Wonder if he's still upset? She bit her lip and inched closer to the door and placed her ear on the wooden door. She didn't hear anything. Frowning she straightened herself just as the door opened.
"Is there a reason why you are outside my door?" he asked through the cracked door. The light from the hallway spilled in illumining a side of his face as the other was hidden in shadow. Bulma looked at him curiously, the dark and light. She smiled then; Vegeta had two sides of him, just like a ying and yang.
"I assume that your brain has finally turned to mush," he stated dryly knocking her out of her previous thoughts.
"Oh, sorry I just thought of something," she said turning to walk away.
"What did you want?" he asked stopping her at the stairs.
Bulma turned around. "I was just wondering if you were up," she said walking back over to his door. "Since you are how about letting me see the rest of those paintings."
"No." He started to close the door and Bulma stuck her foot in and pushed against the door.
"Come on, Vegeta," she whined, "I just want to see them. It won't hurt you and I swear not to breathe this to another living soul." He stopped pushing against the door; she knew he could have gotten it close with her weak attempts. She figured he hadn't really cared either way.
"Fine," he grudgingly said as he opened the door wide enough for her to enter then promptly closed it incasing them in darkness.
"A light would be helpful if I'm going to see anything," she retorted reaching her hands out so she wouldn't bump in to anything. It didn't work however and she stubbed her foot on something hard. With a yelp she fell onto the ground just as Vegeta turned on the small bedside lamp.
"Idiot," he muttered picking up the spilt paint can. "Look what you did to the carpet."
"Well if someone hadn't turned off the lights," she said rubbing her foot and glaring at him. "Then it wouldn't have happened. Besides don't you need light to paint or is that another freaky saiyan thing. Oh, wait it's not because Goku can't see in the dark either!"
"I can always rip your tongue out," he said picking up the canvas he'd been working on and sat on the floor next to her. Just to spit him she stuck her tongue out at him. He gave her a warning glance.
"What are these paintings of anyways?" she asked leaning forward to take in every color.
"My home," he answered in a clipped tone. Bulma glance back at him with a soft look before turning her attention back to the painting.
"Are they all about your home?" she asked softly as she leaned back to sit against the bed. She glanced over at Vegeta who was also staring at the painting and felt oddly childish to be sitting on the floor in his room.
"You miss it, don't you?" she said not expecting him to answer. She already knew anyways. "I was never good at painting. My art teacher, when I was in high school, used to dread everyday I came into class." She gave a small laugh. "It was the only class I'd ever failed. I used to get so mad at her too." She glanced back over at him and noticed his lips twitching.
"You overanalyze," he said giving his advice. "It's in your nature. Art is the same thing as passion; you just do it and let it flow."
"Turning into Buddha?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Who?" He asked looking at her with suspicion. He wasn't sure if she'd just insulted him or not. Bulma just smiled and pulled his last blank canvas out.
"Let's test this theory of yours," she said picking up the paint brush that was lying on a can of paint. "Where did you get this paint anyways?"
"I found it in the storage rooms," he said handing her another can. "You're already going to prove me right. Don't test, just do."
"Alright," she muttered. "What were you doing in the storage rooms, anyways?"
"Hiding," he admitted as he watched her brush a few strokes across the canvas. She wasn't paying attention to what she was doing but instead glancing at him.
"You, hiding?" she asked in disbelief. "From what?"
"Not what, but who," he said. Her hand stilled as she gave him her full attention. "Your mother."
"That explains it," she snorted dipping the brush into a cup of water and picking another color. "You aren't scared of some of the dangerous brutal men who could kill you in battle but you run from my mother."
"Hum," he grunted watching the canvas. "Your mother is more annoying the third class idiot and his harpy combined. Her voice is like nails scraping on a chalk board. She also says inappropriate things."
Bulma winced her mother could be a bit obnoxious and say things that should be said aloud. "What did she say that was inappropriate?" Bulma asked not sure she wanted to hear the answer. She also dipped the brush into the water cup and picked another color. "Never mind I don't want to know."
The sat in silence while Bulma worked on her painting, she set the brush down and looked at what she'd done. "It's still not as pretty as yours," she said frowning. Although the swirls of color did look nifty, she looked down at another bucket and stuck her hand in it and glided her thumb and forefinger across the canvas. "I haven't finger painted in a while."
"You should add some white too it," he said picking up the brush and barely dipped it in the white. He made light stores to give it contrast as Bulma kept putting various thumb strokes of orange on the canvas. She smirked as she got any idea and grabbed Vegeta's wrist. He turned to look at her with a glare.
"You will lose," he said as she smeared orange paint across his jaw. He retaliated with the white. The canvas lay forgotten as the two struggled with a paint war. Vegeta, however; being the strongest ended up pinning Bulma to the floor. Both had various colors across their faces and Bulma even had a few splotches in her hair. Their hand almost looked black from all the colors they'd used to cover each other with. Clothes were ruined, no matter how many times they were washed.
"You're not so different, you and I," Bulma said studying his face. "A melting of colors."
"How would you know?" he asked in a whisper reflecting on her words. A melting of colors, now what did you she did mean by that?
"You're proud but underneath lay so many things that no one ever gets to see," she said lifting her hand to caress his cheek, which streaked another color across his face. "We're both a melting of colors. Neither one of us is just one thing both hiding things beneath the surface. But you know, I think I'm the only person who's seen this side of you, Vegeta."
"You confuse me," he admitted with a glare. She laughed and his frown became fiercer.
"I'm supposed to be confusing," she said dipping her fingers into one of the paint cans and trailing her fingers down his neck. "If I wasn't, where would the challenge be?"
Vegeta glance down at her hand then back at her. Without a word he dipped his hand into a bucket and brought it over her shirt, the paint dripped on the carpet that was going to have to be replaced by now anyways. His hand slide under her shirt and spread the paint across her hips and up her abdomen. She shivered at the feeling of his hand and the paint gliding over his skin. Her eyes locked with his as she once again dipped both hands in the paint and rolled them under his shirt. She pulled it off and made hand prints over his chest then smeared them as her fingernails gazed over his muscles.
Their eye contact never broke in between reapplying paint to their fingers and working to mark ever inch of skin while softly creasing each other. Bulma moaned when he slide her cotton shorts off and traced the insides of her thighs. Her eyes closed for the briefest of moments, only to open them and find him watching her still. She smiled as she in turned removed his pants, her smile turning into a blush as her lips pressed together in a scrunched embarrassed smile. He wasn't wearing any boxers. She glanced up at him to see his smirk and she rolled her eyes.
"Cocky," she muttered trailing her fingers tips over the juncture of his leg and thigh; they had long since stopped using the paint. Her bare chest was covered in smears of red, blues and greens. In turn Vegeta was mostly covered with yellows, oranges, and white with a hint of black.
"Humans and their modesty," he retorted shedding her of her last particle of clothing. Their bodies seemed to melt into one as he lay on her. The colors clashed as hands and limbs intertwined and softly caressed the other into a fevered pitch. Only then did lips meet for the first time.
Vegeta's hands smoothly pressed against the side of her face and ran down the length of her body as she clung to him clutching his shoulders. The feeling was deep and her breath caught as she rubbed herself against him. Wasting no time he entered her. She moaned his name breaking from the kiss as his mouth devoured her neck and shoulders. His hands steadied her hips as he rocked against her filling her deeper with each stroke. Bulma wrapped her leg around his hip as her lips found his once again. She felt the pressure building deep in the pit of her stomach before she hit her orgasm. Her head fell back with a sedated look and Vegeta kept moving against her till he felt his release.
He leaned his head on her shoulder to calm his breathing and looked back at Bulma as she tired to clam her own. They lay on the floor for what seemed like hours. Vegeta had eventually rolled off of her and she'd turned tack to study her canvas and then looked back at Vegeta with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" he asked gruffly looking at the canvas then at her.
"I was just admiring my work," she said smirking. She was looking at him when she said that and his eyebrow rose.
"Your work?" he asked shaking his head. "My work seemed to have turned out hideous, maybe if the side were trimmed down a bit." She scowled and punched him in the stomach.
"Stop talking about my love handles," she grumbled yawning. Vegeta glanced at the clock; it read three in the morning. "See, Vegeta," she said closing her eyes. "We are a melting of colors."
"Yes," he whispered looking from her body to his seeing the colors blend and melt together.
"I liked your art lesson better then my High School teacher," she said sticking her tongue out at him. "I bet I would have gotten an A if I'd shown up at the project."
He leant down and nipped at her tongue. "I still have no aversion to cutting it out," he growled getting up. She opened her eyes to look up at him wondering where he was going.
"I'm not sleeping in this," he said walking into the bathroom. Bulma decided he was right and followed him. Another few hours later, both were lying in the bed with most of the paint now missing. Vegeta was lying on his back as Bulma lay on her side facing away from him but still pressed closely. Vegeta opened his eyes and glanced down at Bulma making sure she was asleep before pulling her closer to him; she was draped over him like a blanket. Now satisfied he closed his eyes to get a few hours asleep before he returned to his routine.