Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? Well, I was feeling a little emotional about Vegetabul one night and I kind of spit this one out. Not my best, but it seems like anything I write these days isn't my best. Anyhow, enjoy!
"I just love being the little spoon. I feel so protected and warm in his arms, especially when he squeezes me tight."
Bulma smiled to herself as she heard a couple of her workers gossiping over lunch outside of her office. She couldn't help but listen in on their conversation as she consumed her own lunch at her large, mahogany desk (after all, it was nearly impossible to escape their voices since they flowed so easily through her closed door). It was a guilty pleasure of hers, really. It was getting dangerously close to her 38th birthday, and she was a full-time business tycoon, the brains behind Capsule Corp. On top of her work and research, she had two children to take care of (one disguised as an extraterrestrial, moody prince). Needless to say, she wasn't able to do the things that she had enjoyed in her earlier years anymore. She sorely missed the life of a 20 year old. Listening to the young girls chatting about their love lives and their adventures brought her back to the glory days.
"I don't understand why any girl would willingly be the big spoon." one of them exclaimed. "I would think it would be uncomfortable, and it shows that the guy isn't very intimate at all. As a matter of fact, I would be worried about our relationship if my boyfriend didn't want to be the big spoon."
Crunching thoughtfully on her salad, Bulma pondered that statement. She had always enjoyed spooning. When she had been with Yamcha, he would bundle her up in his strong arms every night and she would nestle under his chin, comfortable and content. The girl was right; Bulma had always felt safe in his embrace. On top of that, it always made her feel dainty and small compared to him.
That wasn't so with Vegeta.
The girls continued to chatter, moving on to a different subject, but Bulma still lingered on the topic. It was no secret that Vegeta wasn't an intimate man. He had grown up suppressing any sort of emotion. Any inkling of sentimental feelings were considered a weakness, and he couldn't afford to be weak. He was a warrior, carefully pruned and bred to exterminate whole races with a simple flick of a ki-charged finger, a prince that constantly fought to survive under the ruthless rule of a tyrant. Bulma was very aware that it was difficult for him to be intimate. Naturally, he wasn't much of a big spoon.
She remembered when they first began their relationship. If you could call it that, she thought with a snort as she set down her lunch. She wasn't surprised when he immediately left her room after they had coupled for the first time. She had even expected it. The relationship between her and the Saiyan prince was purely physical, no feelings filtering through the careful walls they had built between them. It was all fine and dandy until she had broken her cardinal rule: don't fall in love. Getting pregnant also didn't help the situation very much either. Whatever sort of "closeness" she had achieved with Vegeta had virtually disintegrated when Trunks came into the world. Or so she had thought.
Bulma was proud to say that Vegeta was a changed man, and she certainly had a hand in helping him transform into what he was now. If someone asked her how she had managed to turn a power-hungry, pompous prince into something that vaguely resembled a lover and a father, she would be at a loss of words. Somewhere between the constant arguing and the stolen kisses and countless articles of clothing that were shed, she had managed to sway his heart enough to stay with her and their son. The bond between Bulma and Vegeta was strong, there was no denying that, yet every night he would turn his back to her. It was her that would wrap her arms around his torso and nuzzle into his strong neck.
I have no problem with that, Bulma realized. Those girls were wrong. She wasn't worried about the intimacy between her and Vegeta at all. As a matter of fact, it was a rewarding feeling to be able to drape her arm over the fierce warrior. It chased away any thoughts that dealt with intimacy problems. She knew in her heart that she was the only one who could ever get that close to him both physically and emotionally, and she knew that the simple act of allowing her to cuddle up to him spoke volumes about the amount of trust he placed in her. Only her. She loved pressing up against her prince, soaking in the heat he gave off. Sometimes, if Bulma was lucky, he would let her tangle her fingers with his.
Her most favorite thing to do before embracing him was to let her fingers trace along the scars that puckered Vegeta's otherwise flawless tan skin along his back. Each scar, Bulma knew, had a story, and those stories weren't very fond. She would often ask where he had gotten a particular scar as she memorized the old wounds with her fingertips. At first, he would jerk away and leave with a dark, ominous cloud hanging over his head. Ever persistent, she would trace and she would ask. Instead of leaving, he started to remain and let her stroke his back, but he wouldn't answer her. Slowly, however, he began to open up to her and murmur battle stories in the dark, recalling a different story for each wound. Bulma would grimace and wince at the gruesome tales, but her hands remained steady at his back, caressing the wounds. They wouldn't, couldn't, scare her away. Each story seemed to end with, "I was weak. I learned." Each scar, in Vegeta's eyes, was a lesson. They made up who he was.
Bulma was jerked out of her deep thoughts by a knock on the door.
Bulma's secretary, one of the voices she had heard outside her office, peered in through the doorway, surrounded by two other girls peeping over the former.
"Ms. Briefs, we would like to ask you a quick question. Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?" her secretary asked with a bashful smile. Bulma gave a wry smile as she hastily added, "We were just curious."
Her lips pulled into a wider grin as Bulma answered, "The big spoon. I wouldn't have it any other way."