Chapter Text
Her synapses were blasting the epic soundtrack of her life at full force, something akin to Eye of the Tiger mixed with She's a Maniac - whilst her eyes scurried soldierly on the heap of outfits scattered on her bed. While one hand ripped away the waxed strip from one of her legs, the other shuffled the various garments like a croupier would cards.
It wasn't for Vegeta that she was putting her leg hairs at stake, but for herself. For once, finally, in her wretched collection of failed Christmas parties, she could claim her golden seat at the table of the Valhalla of couples. Perhaps, it was childish of a woman in her thirties to be so hung up on a mere friend reunion. She didn't care, though. It represented the prime form of detoxification for her social anxiety. And she was so giddy that her head spun around like a carousel, lulling her with an overdose of dopamine that she hadn't felt in ages.
She wiggled her ass at the rhythm of invisible music as her phone chimed with upcoming notifications. Ah, it was like being a teenager all over again. Spinning on her heels, she dove on her belly and bunched the mattress to grab the phone on her nightstand, and the clothes around her fluttered in the air like exotic veils before settling haphazardly on the floor.
You have 3 unread messages
Vegeta : stop tagging the manga account on your fucking ships.
Vegeta : And no. I won't come to your stupid social gathering.
Vegeta : delete my number.
After their sexual rendezvous, she had completely forgotten how virtual Vegeta could be like a stiletto heel in the butthole. It was like he found sinister delight in pouring all his sociopathic nihilism on a keyboard. However, she was too high on her personal cloud to mind his jabbering. Jabbering she found as irritating as a feral kitten hissing at its first human contact. Swinging her legs back and forth, she composed a new message with the broadest of smiles on her lips.
"I will stop the tagging when Panty and Herb are canon. So, not anytime soon." Before sending out the message, she tapped her finger on the screen of the phone. "You're free to not come to the party. I’ll go with Nappa instead."
Satisfied with her gameplay, she tapped the send button and rolled on her back. Punched some new lines of text in a new message and delivered that one too.
Now, it was just a matter of minutes…
Minutes she half spent throwing a whole drawer of old panties in the trash can. Ordering the sexiest lingerie on the market online and half fantasizing about her perfect Christmas Eve night. Which was evidently just a fantasy because in her head Vegeta morphed into some laughable, sugary caricature of himself, clothed like a cheap butler that showered her in more I love yous than she ever received in her whole life. Maybe some side of her still lived in that romantic, saccharine world that existed just in cinematic comedies and puerile dreams, where the perfect man is a yes man that lives to satisfy your every need and care.
More like a servant, actually. She had stopped being picky when the men she fell for in the past started to show the same, inevitable symptoms, sooner or later. They cheated, or got fed up with her brazen, demanding personality. And whilst she hated all of them, she also understood that at some point, on the road, she had been the one that had spooked them away. A gracious face doesn't compensate for a crappy character.
Vegeta was, for all intent and purposes, the kind of man she'd never, ever date had he not been the carbon copy of his own invention, and she wasn't besotted with Herb. He was leagues away from her standards of beauty. As well as certainly, he wouldn't have given her a chance either, if she hadn't literally forced her way into his life. Because… it was clear as the day that the fangirl type was a recurring constant in his life that he loathed; as much as he loathed the iconic character wherefrom stemmed the hype.
It had been a hit or miss curveball that she pitched immediately after sensing how good it was to be just herself with him. Also, real-orgasm, ladies and gentlemen. R-e-a-l orgasm with just his mouth? Where the fuck would she ever find another man able to give her that? She was again a poor, besotted bastard with all the ailments that came from being in love.
A new message interrupted her train of thoughts. It was from Nappa. But before she could make it to the texting app, her phone started to ring.
She didn't even bother to read the name blinking on the display because she was a thousand percent sure who the call came from.
"You're a fucking bitch." His casual greeting made her laugh out loud.
"Coming from you, that's high praise." She tutted, palming at the length of her smooth, as-a-baby-ass leg. "You don't sound very happy. Any problem?"
"My assistants, all seven of them, are refusing to come to work on Christmas Eve. What the Hell did you say to Nappa?"
"Mmm, just that if he was able to convince you to come, I'd provide babes and booze for all the crew."
She heard him curse under his breath and the distinct slap of the wind. "Where are you Vegeta? You're not going to jump off of a skyscraper just because I slightly curbed your schedule to meet mine, right?"
"No. But I'm very tempted to shove you from the same height. I thought I had been clear about-"
"Not having time for a relationship. I know. I won't take all of your evening… a couple of hours will be enough. We go, say hi, and maybe continue what we started at your apartment in some dark, narrow hallway when we go back?"
"... That's it?"
She literally squealed at that, hugged the phone like an idiot, and curled on herself like a happy larva. When she found her composure again, she cleared her voice. "Are you disappointed?"
"No." He deadpanned, "W… why should I be?"
“Mmm, I don’t know…” she curled a tuft of hair around her finger, “maybe because contrary to what your macho-man pride lets you believe, you want to spend time with me.” She deliberately stated it, so maybe the thought, even a little curl of it, would sink into his mind as truth.
He didn’t respond, which made it more than clear that he just could not deny that in the end, she was right. And that made all of her body tingle with the need to run wherever he was and jump him, be it even in the middle of the street. A thought that started to solidify in her mind as the seconds passed until it morphed into a full-fledged question. “Vegeta… can I come over for a bit?”
“Don’t even dream of it.”
“Oh come on, don’t be a scrooge. Just five minutes?”
“Not even one.”
“Three minutes?”
“Are you a fucking kid?”
“One minute and a half and I’ll come commando.”
She heard him choke on his saliva on the other side of the receiver, a sign that the commando part maybe had sorted some positive effect somewhere, if not on his lungs, at least somewhere more south.
“How long are you going to insist if I say no once again?”
“A couple of hours, then I’ll probably let it go and drown my sorrow into alcohol until my liver implodes. After that, I’ll turn into a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life.”
“Five minutes sound better than the rest of my life. You can come… if you find the place.” He hung up on her and her smile faded into a frown.
---
She’d had to ask Nappa where to find the studio since Mr. Idenymyfeels liked the ball in his court a bit too much. When she reached the top floor of the complex, her tongue was lolling out, and her legs felt blocks of concrete.
Who in the world rents an office on the fifteenth floor of an elevator-less building? Evidently, people that weren't as out of shape as she was. As soon as she retrieved the energy she had lost during the ascent, another problem arose right in front of her disbelieving eyes. All the apartments on the catwalk were absolutely identical. Not a single wreath hung by the door, not a shred of indication that could single out the studio from a common flat.
Nappa had been vague at best, and he had slapped a link with indications in the chat with no additional detail about the number or the direction of the room. Good. She palmed frantically at her sides and pulled out her phone that blinked shut immediately after its retrieval. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She shook the device as if the wild motion of her arm could somehow reanimate it. But nope. Dead. Rip. Gone.
"Oh well…" she shrugged, "needs must when the devil drives." The dramatic lungful of air she took in tumbled out of her chest immediately after.
"Vegeta! Vegeta! Vegeta! Vegeta!"
A couple of doors creaked open, and she even heard someone threatening to call the police; just at long last, her arm was yanked away brusquely, and she was pulled into a room and… smeared against the door like butter on bread. Vegeta's palms slammed against the door and too close to her eardrums. His face was so red and the veins on his forehead so full of blood that if he didn't burst a vessel now, it would never happen again.
"Are you out of your fuckin-"
His rage deflated in her mouth when she grabbed his face and pulled him into a wet, loud kiss, making him go slack and pliant as fast as he had pulled her into the apartment.
Just when a long whistle at their back warned that they were indeed not alone, did he pull back, looking as scandalized as her when she used to read his porn.
"Don't you dare." She cautioned low, when he made to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Yo, Bulma. Nice lungs." Nappa strolled in on them casually, pretending he hadn't just seen his coworker's lips basically vacuumed in her mouth.
"Can't say the same of your touristic abilities. Next time you could nicely add which door is the right one."
That was when she noticed a third figure approaching them, who wiggled his dark bushy brows and whistled suggestively at her. "When Nappa said you were a nice catch, I didn't believe him, but you are indeed eye candy, Galickkamehameha." The tall, long-haired man twisted his arm around Vegeta's neck, "and this guy owes everything to me. Name's Raditz, anyway."
Whilst Vegeta elbowed the taller man in the ribs and turned away like a sizzling prima donna. She eyed Raditz curiously, his features reminiscent of someone she couldn't quite place yet.
"Did we… meet somewhere?" She tilted her head, rubbing her chin.
"In Dragon Square, probably." He winked, rubbing the spot where Vegeta had hit him. "It's probably the Herb effect, you see…" without beating around the bush, he looped his arm around her waist like the smoothest operator, "We designed him to resemble the three of us. Gave 'im my height, Vegeta's face, and Nappa's bulk. Was supposed to be a joke, y'know, I drew him for fun… but Nappa liked him so much that decided to use him without warn-"
"Raditz." Vegeta's edged timbre cut in cold and poised, which made her shiver from head to toe. Whatever question was gripping in her throat, Bulma just swallowed it down.
They passed the short hall to immediately set foot in the studio, where a large and long table sat at the very center of the spacious, spotless room. Thousand and thousand drafts and sketches littered the otherwise immaculate walls with various manga scenes, discarded storyboards, and character sheets. The general lights were dimmed to allow the various table lamps to shine brighly upon the respective worktables.
Four heads perked from where they were laboriously tilted to steal curious glances at the new intruder. She waved her hand less enthusiastically and more nervous than she had predicted. Hell, she wasn't feeling a shred of the excitement she should have felt. Probably it was because all of her attention was drawn by Vegeta. Outside, it was easy - if not for his unmistakable features - to lose him in a surfing crowd of people. But here, in his kingdom, all the light in the room seemed to gather to him to make him shine bright. He sat behind a different worktable, the only one equipped with a computer, crossed his legs, and reclined in his swivel chair like a mafia boss. Tipped his head forward and pushed the rim of his - fucking sexy - glasses on his nose.
Just when he noticed her insistent stare, did his dark eyes turn to her again. Reflectively, she moved toward him, and without uttering a word, sat on his lap.
He stiffened, but surprisingly enough, didn't push her away. Instead, he glared at his co-workers. "Less staring, more scribbling."
"You're giving me more freedom than I expected. Are you high on Xanax?" She queried, a teasing curl slipping on her lips.
"Nah, he's high on asserting his dominance on us." Raditz quipped sardonically, taking place next to Nappa. "Now he's virtually peeing everywhere and showing off how cool he is. Might not seem like one, but Vegeta is a fucking showo- ouch!"
It looked like Vegeta had no problems throwing blunt objects as long as they hit their target and hurt. And the T-square that centered Raditz on the head with his sharpest angle made Bulma wince empathically.
Raditz grimaced "and then dies of second-hand embarrassment when someone makes him notice." He yelled, purposely, with a satisfied smirk before getting back to work.
Vegeta merely faced the computer, feigning that his face wasn't drawing color with the same rapidity of a whistling pot. "You're such a caveman…" she commented, tersely and totally nonplussed.
He didn't look at her, just groused a "get a seat and let me work" in the palm of his hand, trying to ferociously hide how much Raditz’s words had ruffled his feathers.
"Fine." She raised a brow suggestively and, halfway from getting up, threw a fast glance at the room. "And... Vegeta…?"
He looked at her askance, his eyes widening imperceptibly to underline to make it quick.
She pinched the side of her skirt and lifted it up along the curve of black high-knee socks until it grazed the line of her pelvis. "I held up my end."
Vegeta swallowed and seemed to struggle to avert his gaze again. Notwithstanding, the corner of his mouth lifted up ever so slightly. "Try to keep mine down for at least another hour."