A/N: Happy New Years!
Don't know if this'll be any good, but I'm giving it a shot. SORRY IT'S LATE!
Set a little before the Androids come…
New Year Beginnings
"Sure, Yamcha! I'd love to!...uh huh!...Yeah, that's fine. Seven o'clock? Um, I might need a little more time to get ready; it's already six…okay, see you at eight!...Love you too. Bye."
Bulma hung the kitchen phone back on its hook and sighed excitedly. Yamcha was taking her to a New Year's Party at a new club in Satan City. The androids were coming in roughly a year and three months, and she really needed to just get away from it all. Ooh, she needed to get her hair done, and choose her outfit, and pick out all her accessories –
"What now, Vegeta?" she yelled back at him.
"THIS INFERNAL MACHINE HAS STOPPED WORKING AGAIN!"
"That's probably because you BROKE it again!" she snapped, turning to set her dishes in the sink.
Bulma yelped, suddenly feeling warm breath on her neck.
"Woman," he said calmly, "I did not break it. It just shut down. Now fix it."
Bulma swallowed her fear, the terror she normally felt when he was around dissipating into anger. "I'm not your servant, Vegeta!" she shot back, turning to face him. "Besides, it's dinner time anyway. My mom's already in the big kitchen cooking your food. I've got somewhere to go tonight –"
She jumped at the outburst. "I'm going to a club with Yamcha. So you're going to have to fend for yourself for a few hours."
He frowned. "What in Kami's name is a club? Isn't that one of humanity's primitive weapons?"
She couldn't help it; she giggled. "No! Well, yes, but that's not what a meant. When a person goes to a club, they go to a building full of people and dance with their boyfriends or girlfriends, and you can buy food and drinks there, although they aren't very good. It's a place to just hang out and have fun."
He scoffed. "You really need to go in a room full of complete strangers to have a good time?"
"No! It's just the best place to dance because they can play really loud music, but the crowd drowns it out some so it doesn't hurt your ears."
"Why not just turn it down to a reasonable level?"
"Because – oh, why am I trying to explain this to you? You're a Saiyan, for crying out loud! I highly doubt you're going to a club anytime soon. Now move so I can go get ready." Bulma started to maneuver around him, only to have him vanish and reappear in front of her two seconds later.
"Oof!" she grunted, crashing into his muscular chest. He caught her before she could even fall one inch, his big arms enveloping her.
They landed with her dainty hands resting on his bare pectorals, his around her waist, their legs tangled, and staring into the other's eyes.
"You're really going out with a bunch of random strangers, with only that weakling for protection?" he asked softly.
Bulma blinked. Then she smiled. "Are you worried about me, Vegeta?"
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then he backed away from her forcefully, his dark cheeks staining themselves red.
"Don't be ridiculous, Woman! Who else in this idiotic compound would fix the damn gravity machine? And make my meals?"
She giggled. "No, no, no, Veggie-san. My daddy can fix the machine, and Mom cooks for you more than I do. Now, if you can come up with any legitimate excuses to cover up that blatant lie, I'm all ears."
His cheeks darkened even further. "Hmph," he scoffed. "Don't get yourself killed, Onna," he snapped, stalking out of the room.
She hadn't been expecting that. Did he just admit he was worried about her?
Bulma shook her head to clear it. "All that training must be going to his head."
Roughly two hours later, Bulma slowly walked downstairs. Not really to avoid tripping, mind you, since her heels were ridiculously short so she could dance in them longer, but to give her a feeling of grace.
She sauntered into the kitchen, feeling proud of herself. "Hey Mom! How do I – " she stopped short when she found her mother wasn't present in the room, and yet she wasn't alone.
Vegeta stared back at her, the chopsticks full of noodles halfway raised to his open mouth.
He stared at her for a second, then lowered them back to his plate.
She looked…decent, he supposed. She wore a brown crop jacket with short sleeves that stopped at her elbows over a strapless soft blue dress that stopped just below her thighs. The hem of the dress was sewn so that it hugged her curves, but had a soft of elastic band inside that allowed her to move freely. In her hand there was a small, lighter blue purse, and on her feet there were gold-ish brown two inch heels that matched the jacket perfectly. Her hair was in a loose ponytail that was by no means sloppy, with thick strands of blue tresses hanging on either side of her face. To complete her outfit, she'd put on gold doubled hoop earrings, and a golden bracelet around her wrist. She'd fit into one of those fashion magazines she always read, Vegeta decided. The girls on the covers he'd seen has been more scantily dressed of course, but that would of course be a bonus rather than an issue.
He swallowed, forcing that thought out of his head.
"Oh," she said, smiling warmly at him. "Sorry, I thought my Mom was in here."
He grunted, turning back to his food.
"So…" she asked. "How do I look?"
He glared at her, swallowing the mouthful of food that he'd been chewing before he spoke. "Why should I care, Woman?"
She snickered at his response. "Because, I'm going on a date with a man. You are a man, therefore it would be nice to have a man's opinion lest I go out and embarrass myself."
He scoffed. "Like I would care if that happened."
"Aww, c'mon Vegeta!"
He grunted, hunching his shoulders. "Your attire is…adequate, I suppose."
Bulma blinked. What was with him tonight? That was hardly an argument at all! Was…that a compliment? From the mighty Prince of All Saiyans himself?
"Well, um, thanks! I guess that's about as close to a compliment as you're going to give me, so I guess I'll take it and run with it." She chuckled. Vegeta scowled at her and went back to eating.
Bulma watched him for a second, observing. She noticed that when Goku ate, he only got half of the food in his mouth; the rest ended up on his face. The big Saiyan ate quickly and sloppily, always creating a mess. Not Vegeta, though. She watched him scarf down his food just as quickly as Goku did, but his etiquette was different. All Saiyans ate fast, that much was true. But through his intense speed of downing the nutrition, Vegeta ate…gracefully. There wasn't a crumb on his face nor in his lap, or even on the table. Everything went in his mouth carefully, almost delicately.
He ate like a prince.
Bulma thought for a minute, glancing at the clock. Yamcha wouldn't be here for another ten minutes or so. A smile teased at the corner of her lips as she sat down in front of Vegeta.
He glanced up at her, his brow furrowing before his eyes found his food again.
"You know," she said, "you don't eat like Goku does," she said.
He glanced up at her.
"I mean, he gets food all over the place. He just shoves it all in his mouth as fast as he can and hopes he swallows it. You eat like…well, royalty, I guess."
He scoffed. "Of course. I'm a Prince, aren't I? Kakarot is nothing but a third class baka. Of course he would eat like a pig."
She giggled. "True, but I ate with a Prince of Earth once, when Daddy was discussing tech with their King, and he didn't eat nearly as graceful as you do." She propped her elbows on the table, leaning forward a bit to look him in the eye. "Actually, you're always graceful. Like, always always. You always move so fluidly…it's kinda unnatural, if you ask me."
He blushed a little at her compliment. Bulma grinned. She stood up, taking about ten dishes to the sink to clear the table. Just as she sat them down, she noticed Vegeta was behind her again.
And very close.
"What kind of people attend these Earthling clubs of yours?" he asked.
She blinked. "Um, all kinds of people, I guess. Why?"
"Which of these people would be considered dangerous?"
"Uh…I guess anybody could be, if they got too drunk."
Briiing dong ding dong! Came the cheerful doorbell.
"Coming!" Bulma called. She rushed to the door, beaming when she saw Yamcha wearing a black button down with dark jeans, complete with black leather shoes.
"Hey, babe!" he greeted cheerfully. "You look great." He handed her a dozen roses. "For you."
She grinned. "Aww, thanks. Let me go put these in some water and I'll be right back. You want to come in?" He stepped inside the door and leaned against the frame as she made my way back to the kitchen.
Vegeta was gone. Strange, he still had food on the table. She dug around in the cabinets before finally finding a vase, setting the flowers inside and arranging them after she filled it with fresh water.
"I don't like it, Onna."
She jumped, nearly pulling of a pretty petal. "Vegeta!" she seethed. "Don't scare me like that! I couldn't dropped it!"
He shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the door frame. "You're already endangering yourself enough tonight. Some broken glass won't hurt you much more."
She glared at him. "Gee, thanks a lot. What do you care, anyway?"
He looked away, ignoring her question. She sighed, putting the roses on the counter. "Well, I'm leaving, okay? Don't break the house before I come back."
She started to make her way to the door, but stopped when she felt a large hand on her arm. She looked at Vegeta, surprise enveloping her features when she saw his normally angry face turn completely serious and intimidating.
"I won't come and rescue you, Onna," he said.
"I didn't ask you to," she huffed, pulling away. He let go, and she went back out to her date.
"What took you so long?" Yamcha asked.
"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to find that pretty vase of Mom's."
He looked skeptical, but didn't press her any further.
Inside, Vegeta looked at the roses. A note, which Bulma had neglected to notice, read, "Hey babe, I love you and I always will until the last rose wilts."
Vegeta frowned, reaching into the bouquet and immediately pulling out the fake rose, burning it to ashes with Ki.
They got into the club easily, Bulma being Bulma and all. It was fantastic; the lighting was great, the music was loud, and it was full of people.
They danced for two hours straight before Yamcha decided it was time for a drink.
That worried Bulma a little. Yamcha had a bit of a drinking problem, but hey, it was New Years Eve! What was the harm?
After six drinks, she began to rethink that statement.
Now, Bulma could handle wine. But this beer was so thick and bitter…she was woozy in seconds.
"Hey Yam? I'm going to the ladies room, okay?" she said.
He nodded, taking another swing. "Don't be gone too long," he said seductively.
In her nearly drunken stupor, Bulma giggled before she left.
The lights in the bathroom were bright, and the transfer from the dark to light contrast hurt her eyes.
Damn, what a headache…
She took her time, not in any hurry to get back on the dance floor while there was a chance of her throwing up. After she felt that her stomach had settled, and the headache had turned into fuzzy vision, she went back outside.
Only to find her boyfriend kissing some random slut.
"Yamcha!" she screamed, flying over to slap him. Her smack hit home, and the drunken man reeled. "What the hell? I'm gone for ten minutes and I come back out to find this?"
"B-bulma…" he slurred. "I can totally…explain this…and uh-"
"Ugh! I cannot believe you, you son of a bitch! Take me home right this minute!"
"Maybe he's occupied," the girl he'd been kissing snapped at her.
"Maybe this place needs a few less bitches and sluts," Bulma shot back. Before the girl could reply, Bulma stormed away.
Now, how the hell was she going to get home?
She reached for her purse, dialing Capsule Corp. No one answered. That's right…her parents were at their own party by now. And it was late, Vegeta would most likely be sleeping…
She left a short message, asking someone to come get her and leaving the address after she finally remembered it.
Bulma sat down at the bar, her head in her hands. Tonight was supposed to be perfect…why did it have to go so wrong?
She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Hello, miss," a man said. He was tall, with blonde hair and green eyes, pale skin and a muscular stature.
"H-hello," she said, her voice still wavering from the effects of the liquor.
"What's a pretty thing like you doing here all by yourself?" he asked.
"My boyfriend cheated on me with some random whore," she spat. "I'm waiting for a ride."
He grinned. Through her clouded vision, Bulma realized this man was nowhere near drunk. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"A ride, huh? I can give you one."
All common sense had left her by now. "Really? Thanks. I live at Capsule Corp, so it's shouldn't be too hard to find."
More grinning. His teeth are ugly, Bulma thought. They're all yellow and brownish. Vegeta's teeth are so much straighter and whiter, and I bet he's never even heard of a dentist…
She giggled at her thoughts. Wow, she must really be out of it! Who cared what Vegeta's teeth looked like?
"Come with me," he said. "My apartment isn't really far from here, I suppose."
Apartment? What the hell was he talking about? She didn't live in an apartment.
The strange man took her hand and pulled her to him. "I promise you," he whispered, "this will be the best ride of your life."
Sex. He wanted sex. There was no ride, or at least, the kind she wanted.
"Let go of me," she ordered. Her voice wasn't firm though. It was like her tongue had magically thickened, and she sounded totally drunk…
"I don't think so, babe. You're the prettiest one here. You think I'm letting you get away?"
He stared dragging her towards the door. Bulma cried out, thinking someone would help her, but her scream was lost in the music as they passed the speakers.
He went out the back door, forcing her into an alley. "My car's just around the corner, sweet cheeks," he purred.
"Leave me alone!" Bulma yelled.
"Now now now, I'm sure you can behave better than this on the streets. Save the feistiness for bed."
"I believe she said to let her go, clown," a new voice interrupted.
The man looked up sharply. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. Bulma looked past the man's shoulder. A figure stood in the shadows, the moonlight barely missing his flaming obsidian hair.
Vegeta? Nuh uh! It couldn't be. He said he wouldn't rescue her.
But…then who else could it be?
The figure shrugged. "I'd say 'Your worst nightmare'," he said calmly, "but that's so cliché. And what's worse, so Earthy. I just can't stand this backwater planet, you know that?"
Earthy? So….an alien…that uses the term 'backwater planet'…
"What the hell are you talking about, short stuff?" the stranger sneered. "Just leave me the fuck alone, so I can go do this chick up."
"Did she give you permission to do so?" the figure asked.
It had to be him. His hair, his voice…
"Does it matter?"
"I think it does."
The stranger snickered. "Who gives a shit what you think?"
"So, you admit to being a rapist," Vegeta said.
Yes, it really was him.
"Vegeta!" she cried.
"You know what, shortie?" The man said. "You're really starting to grate on my nerves." Bulma saw the man reaching into his pocket, and a flash of steel shone in the bright moonlight…
And then he fell to the ground in an heap.
Bulma yelped as another pair of arms replaced the one's she'd just fallen out of.
"Onna," the voice grumbled. "This is ridiculous. Didn't I tell you to be careful?"
Bulma opened an eye she didn't remember closing and realized she was up in the air. "Oh Kami!" she shrieked, clutching whatever was holding onto her.
"Woman, would you get your nails out of my skin? I swear, you're worse than that black thing that sits on your father's shoulders."
Bulma looked up. Vegeta's face was shadowed against the full moon, but she could still see his dark features, and the scowl that rested on his lips.
"You said you wouldn't save me," she accused, hiccuping.
He scoffed. "Well, it's extremely hard to focus when your Ki kept bouncing around like one of those stupid volleyballs you play with."
She blinked. "You were watching my Ki?"
He blushed. "No! I'm around you all the time, Woman! I can't help but feel it –"
He paused for what seemed like a long time.
Bulma sat up slowly, her head still hurting. "Damn," she muttered. What a headache. She glanced at her clock. It was about eight in the morning, surprisingly. Bulma yawned, starting to stretch. Suddenly, she stopped, last night's events playing through her head like a fast motion movie.
Vegeta. He'd rescued her.
Bulma jumped out of bed, yelping slightly when she found she was no longer in her blue dress, but instead in her favorite pink pajamas.
He'd changed her clothes?
She ran to her computer, her tech genius allowing her to easily break into the building's security and look at the camera footage. A few more clicks and she found the screen that watched her room…well, watched it when she wasn't dressing, that is. Luckily she had a switch beside her bed that shut off the camera's while she changed clothes.
Vegeta hadn't known about that switch though.
Bulma watched in awe as he came into the room shortly after midnight, a sleeping (or passed out) blue haired woman in his arms. He laid her gently on her bed and began fishing around in her drawers. Five minutes later, he found her pj's.
She felt a lump rise in her throat as she prepared herself for the next images.
But once again, the Saiyan Prince surprised her.
He slid the heels off her feet delicately, and pulled her into his arms to remove the jacket. He slid the pink tank top on her first before he slowly pulled at the hem of her dress, tugging it down until is slid off of her hips. He turned his head away as he then reached underneath the pink top and unclipped her bra, holding it at almost arm's length as he quickly dropped it in some random drawer. Using one hand to make her back arch, he slipped the silky pants over her legs and pulled them up, taking off her jewelry after he was done.
She watched in complete shock as he pulled the covers over her little body, glancing back at her once before he left, shutting the door behind him.
He'd rescued her…brought her home…and changed her clothes…
And he hadn't done a thing to hurt or take advantage of her.
Bulma smiled, shutting down her laptop.
Now that was one honorable man.
She pulled her arms through her silk robe, tying the sash into a pretty little bow as she made her way downstairs.
Vegeta surprisingly wasn't in the gravity room. Instead, he was at the kitchen table, eating eggs he'd fried himself, no doubt using two whole cartons…or more. Probably the latter.
"Are you done with your foolish antics, Woman?" he asked, not turning to face her.
Well, of course he would sense her coming in.
"Yeah," she chuckled. "I doubt I'm ever going to one of those again."
Bulma smiled at his back. He wore no shirt, just his usual spandex shorts and worn out sneakers.
"Thanks. For saving me, I mean. You didn't have to do that."
He glanced at me. "Someone has to fix the damn gravity room."
"You have my dad for that –"
"Well, maybe I want you to do it."
"You're work is better than his. The better the work, the more efficient the machine."
Another compliment? Maybe not having a tail during a full moon causes mood swings.
"Well, either way, thank you."
He grunted. "Whatever."
She smiled again, vaguely remembering that he'd said "You're welcome" the night before.
She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. He tensed, his already hard muscles tightening at her touch.
"Did you change my clothes last night?" she asked.
His face was turning a very amusing shade of red. "So what if I did?"
"You didn't even peek, did you? I saw it on the cameras."
He scoffed, standing up and breaking from her grasp. "Why the hell would I do that? A Saiyan Prince has no interest in a lowly human woman like you."
She knew he was just trying to cover it up with his macho man attitude. "Well, you could've taken advantage of me. I doubt I would've felt a thing. I was out like a light."
He sneered. "Why the hell would I stop that clown from attacking you just to do it myself?"
She giggled. "Oh, don't ask me how men's minds work. Even I'm not that smart." She followed him to the sink where he was dumping in his fifth plate.
The kitchen sink seemed to be a popular spot, nowadays.
Bulma stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently. "Either way," she said, "Thank you. A lot. I owe you one."
With that, she disappeared from the kitchen, her full hips swinging playfully as she left the room.
Vegeta stood there in complete shock, not saying anything. His hand reached up to touch his cheek, his fingertips brushing the spot where her soft lips had made contact with his skin.
"I swear," he muttered. "The female species is such an enigma."
A/N: Happy New Years. :)