The Prince´s New Clothes Part I
Disclaimer: I don´t own Dragonbal Z, and I don´t own the song The Way He Makes Me Feel, either (the last one belongs to Barbra Streisand). I just happened to be watching Yentl one night, and I eventually thought the song fit to this chapter.
Thank you very much for the recent reviews, I´m glad you´re enjoying it. And a special thanks for my friend Tryniamerin, who beta-ed this for me.
Chapter 7 - <b>The Prince´s New Clothes - Part I</b>
Dr. Briefs bent over the microscope, his small eyes widened with admiration behind his thick glasses. Perched on the old man´s shoulder, his eyes as round as his owner´s, Scratch stared wide-eyed, as if he shared his owner´s interest. A soft mew echoed in the laboratory of Capsule Corps where father and daughter perused the strange material of Vegeta's armor.
“Impressive!” the cigarette seemed about to fall out of the corner of doctor´s mouth at any moment. “It resembles a sort of polymer, but confirming that'll take a lot more experiments. I'll need to examine it much more completely to be certain of its exact molecular structure. And it stretches infinitely, you say?”
”Well, Vegeta was wearing one of these when he became a were-monkey, and he didn't get naked because it didn't rip when he grew in size. The costume grew and shrank with him. That´s what they told me, anyway,” Bulma supplied for her father. She couldn't help as the image of Vegeta pummeling around the battle camp in nothing but his skin flashed into her mind. Luckily, her father was too absorbed with perusing the incredible fabrics to notice the quick flush on her cheeks.
After a few hours of examination and discussions with his daughter, Dr. Briefs had the matter well in hand. He turned to her and announced, “We haven´t got the same raw materials, of course, but we can do something similar, even more resistant then the original.”
“I just don´t know if it´ll stretch that much, though,” he added, scribbling the formulas into his notebook.
“That´s all right, Dad. Without his tail he´ll never be able to become a big ape again, anyway,” Bulma said absently, now eager to finish with that part of her plan. As much as she was grateful for her father´s help, she felt now more inclined now to take action, rather than discussing polymers and their properties.
So, it was with relief that she found herself alone, after the doctor had grudgingly left her because of a business call. She typed a few keys on her computer and opened a file. A small doll resembling Vegeta appeared on the screen. His bodysuit was entirely blue, and she started sliding small pieces of armor on it to check out different compositions. Those miniature designs were versions of her sketches inspired by the Saiyan armor she'd seen Vegeta and Krillen wear on Namek, and the ones donned by Freeza's soldiers.
"Who would have guessed I would be playing with dolls, dressing them up when I grew up?" she thought with a smile.
During their last talk in the Gravity Room, it became clear to her that his Saiyan battle armor meant much more to Vegeta than mere clothing. Along with his pride, it was the only remainder of his origin, so that made sense. Yet, Bulma didn't bring herself to take action until she found her cherished toolbox in the laboratory. It contained her first tools from a young age, and she had given all of them all up as lost after Vegeta literally blew her out the G.R. Nobody could have brought them back but her irascible visitor, but, why would he bother himself to do something nice?
As the thoughts appeared in her mind, instantaneously the voice of Mrs. Briefs seemed to echo in her brains, admonishing her.
<i>"Shame on you Bulma!"</i> the good woman would have said.<i>"Vegeta is such a nice boy and you always treat him so badly!"</i>
Although 'nice' was the last word that could be applied to Vegeta, Bulma had to admit that, sometimes, he did little things that usually went unnoticed, but still were surprising coming from someone like him. For instance when he turned off the gravity machine to save her life, or even when he suggested a way of bringing Goku and Krillin back, even though he had done that with clear secondary intentions.
Maybe her parents were right and she was being too hard on the prince, probably influenced by her friend's prejudices against him. Anyway, to forge the Prince new Saiyan armor seemed a good way of trying to make up with her impossible guest. If he came back with one of his snappy rejoinders, she always could say it wasn't actually for him but her contribution for the upcoming battle with the Androids.
The first step had been to obtain samples of the cloth and rubberlike armor, and for this she needed his original battle clothes. Bulma wanted to make him a surprise, which meant she had to "borrow" his outfit without the irascible prince's knowledge. This was a dangerous task, indeed. Since their last encounter they had tiptoed gingerly round one another. Not to mention the glances Vegeta gave her clearly stated that he wouldn't want to have her around, let alone enter his room and touch his possessions!
Luckily, there were also the uniforms Krillin and Gohan had dressed up with on Namek from Freiza's abandoned ship. However, her actual relationship with her friends made this possibility a little bit difficult. To go back to Goku's house and talk to Gohan would be suicide now, and about Krillin... Bulma started to wonder if it wouldn't be less dangerous to face Chichi than to go to Kame's house and risk having the old pervert pursuing her and demanding to have the old "debt" paid. (remember, from Chapter 4?)
Luckily and unexpectedly, however, Bulma accidentaly ran into Krillin in the West City while shopping. Despite the initial remembrance of the fight, none of the Z team members held grudges for a long time and soon they were talking as nothing had happened. Even Master Roshi, Krillin reassured, was no longer angry with her... as long as nobody mentioned the paf-paf word anywhere around him. Krillin had commited the mistake of telling the incident to the Turtle. The queloniun had cracked up at this, and said that should teach the two perverts to stop pursuing young girls. The rest Bulma could perfectly guess.
"Master Roshi's walking stick is very heavy, to not say hard," Krillin patted an imaginary bump on his shaved head with a forced half-smile. "He spent the rest of the afternoon mumbling. Now there's not a day when he doesn't pester Oolong to turn himself into a pretty babe, and you know how Oolong is, all he does is keeping saying that's your fault because you blackmailed him. I even thought about moving, despite having not where to go."
"You may stay with me, if you like,” Bulma suggested.
"No, thanks, Bulma," Krillin shivered at the offering. It was a hundred times better to put up with the two perverts' quarrels than to live under the same roof with Vegeta. However, afraid of offending her, he added quickly, "But don't worry, Bulma, that's not against you. I admit I was shocked at first, but I thought hard and I realized it wasn't your fault. Perhaps I would have done the same, if I was in your place. And, who am I to judge you guys? If you want to keep your friends, you must learn to accept them the way they are, unless you'll live alone on a deserted island... what I'm saying, I'm already living on one, but, well, you got it." Having said this, he rubbed his head in embarrassment.
"I got your point," Bulma sighed, with a reassuring look. "I wish everyone could think the same way you do. Besides Goku, of course."
Then she changed to the delicate topic of his battle clothes. The little monk looked a little puzzled at her request, but didn't ask what she needed them for. Actually, he was even grateful to her, since he didn't know what to do with the blasted outfit in which he had been wished back.
Finally, she could have the precious samples of the clothing and armor. Pity that was a complete waste of time. Only after all that 'trouble' with Krillin, she realized that, in order to the new uniform to serve on Vegeta perfectly, she either would have to take his measurements (no way!) or... to "borrow" his clothes.
Gaahh... even now, when Bulma remembered that, she still felt stupid.
Luckily, to get the wretched thing hadn't been half as hard as she had thought, for Vegeta now practically lived in the Gravity Room. Still, she had taken all the precautions, even making the point of wearing gloves, though it wasn't probable that her terrible guest would search the room with vision capable of magnifying every square inch. She hoped she could at least be capable of returning the black uniform before he missed it.
"What color shall I use?" she thought aloud. Clicking on a few keys, she changed the color of the model's basic jumpsuit. The outfit became green, and she grimaced before changing it back to its original black color. Both the uniforms lying on her table and the ones she had seen Freeza's soldiers wearing in Namek were black, but she recalled Vegeta was wearing a blue bodysuit under his armor the first time they met. She had noticed that the prince had a strong preference for both those two colors, never choosing another unless he was forced to. He usually wore accessories with them, like gloves or his high cuffed boots.
"Black or blue? Hmmm, black would look sexier. He always look so good with that black T-shirt mom gave him. But blue would look lighter, and it always looks fit with dark skin like hi..." Bulma mused, tapping her chin with a finger.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY CLOTHES?!" roared a voice at her back. Even if Vegeta had said that in a normal tone, it would have been enough to scare her, but at that volume, she almost hit the roof.
"AAAHHH!!! VEGETA!" her scream shuddered the walls of the lab even before she hit the floor. "Haven't you learned yet it's not polite to sneak up on people?"
"And is it polite to invade my room to steal my clothes?" he snarled.
She backed a few steps away from him, a little scared but annoyed, too. All right, it wouldn't take much longer until he found out, but he didn't need to make such a big deal because of that old rag!
"I didn't steal anything, you fool! I just wanted to take your measurements!" she shouted back, face flushed with embarrassment.
"My measurements?" Vegeta echoed in confusion. Only then did he notice Krillin's suit lying on the table with his. "What's Baldy's suit doing here? Are you collectioning battle clothes?"
"No, silly! I wanted to make you a new uniform. Isn't that obvious?"
A new uniform... for him? Taking a closer look, Vegeta noticed the piles of sketches inspired by the clothes, and the computer screen displaying the various images. He took a step and leaned over the machine to see better, then a frown wrinkled his V-shaped brow. That ugly little doll was supposed to be him? Ugh. He closed his eyes for a moment, as to erase the vision from his mind, and then opened them again to glare at Bulma:
"How did you know that I needed new battle clothes, eh? I didn't tell your father anything."
"And you dare to say I am the foolish one! It's obvious that these old rags of yours are not going to last through another fight! And it would be a complete shame for the Capsule Corporation's technology, if we allowed our guest to fight the robots with gymn clothes when we have everything needed to produce an outfit that any Saiyan would be proud to wear!" Bulma snapped back. She raised her chin haughtily and crossed her arms, as if she was mocking his usual posture.
The crease deepened between Vegeta's V-shaped eyebrows. He had came there certain that she had stolen his clothes trying to keep him from running off to space, and instead he found her planning to give him new ones? That was completely odd.
All his life, Vegeta had to steal, threaten or demand in order to obtain whatever he wanted. Nobody had ever offered him anything spontaneously. He could even imagine that she was using that as an excuse to get his technology... but why only now?
"I understand that you have 'borrowed' my clothes. But why these?" he asked, pointing at Krillin's uniform, mostly to disguise his irritation than for the sake of genuine curiosity.
Bulma clenched her teeth as she feel the blood flaring through her cheeks. He was purposely trying to humiliate her by his words. Her voice rose to dangerous levels as she shouted, "I... I told you I wanted to make you a surprise! That's why I asked Krillin to lend me the clothes you gave him, so I could take some samples of the clothing and armor! But I forgot that I would need your measurements too, so I was forced to enter in your sanct-sanctorum to fetch your sacred, blasted uniform, anyway!"
"I'm sorry if that made you so angry, if that's what you want you hear! And if you don't want to, because you can't lower yourself to accept something made by a mere Earth woman, well, that's fine to me, because I have enough to do! For all I care you can even fight naked if you like! I don't give it a DAMN!" Her last words quavered as she finished the lecture in one single breath, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
Vegeta looked away, feeling embarrassed in spite of his always stoic expression. He felt like bolting from the room immediately and forgetting everything he had seen. To banish that absurdly emotional woman, the clothes, the images in the computer, and forget the implications of all those pieces put together.
It was clear now that Bulma's interest for him ran far more deeply than lust or mere sympathy. He could believe that she had forgiven him for harming her by not throwing him out homeless, or think she was trying to seduce him with gifts. However he didn't believe that those reasons would lead her to sacrifice her pride. Bulma was almost as proud as he was. Vegeta knew that, and yet she had mentioned she risked a situation that had insulted her, probably humiliating herself... just to make him a surprise?
Even though he didn't understand or show interest for such matters, Vegeta was quite aware that the members of inferior races tended to grow fond of the beings among to them, even the most unpleasant ones. There wasn't a greater pleasure for Freeza and his closest henchmen than to submit a being to the most vexing torments, to break him/her in order to do anything they pleased, just to not see his/her family or friends to suffer. And then to kill his/her beloved ones, just to see the pain and unbelief flooding the eyes of the unfortunate fool.
Saiyajins, however, were indifferent to such things. That only served to prove the great truth Vegeta's father had taught him: affective bonds make you weak. Besides, the idea of a living being crazy enough to have any good feelings for him was completely unconceivable, to not say absurd. If somebody had told him one year ago that this could happen, he would have laughed in their faces. Now, however, Vegeta felt like he wanted to do anything but laugh. Actually, if somebody would be foolish enough to taunt him or mention that nutty woman, he would have blasted the wretched soul to oblivion.
"Why is she crying?" he thought, noticing the wet translucent pearls threatening to roll from her eyes. "To make me the blasted thing means for her to be so upset after what I said?"
His stomach was churning, and he knew it was not only because he was hungry. He didn't want anyone's affection and didn't know what to do with it even when he received it. The right thing to do was to depart immediately to space, as he had planned initially, with or without uniform. The situation was growing more dangerous with each passing minute he remained there. However, Vegeta was the first to admit his fondness to put himself in the way of danger. And it would be a shame to waste the woman's trouble and time, wouldn't it? Working it out, he could take good advantage of her weakness, and, well, she wouldn't have much to complain, too. The thought made him stretch his hard lips to suppress a smirk.
"I'm going to give you what you want, woman," he thought, as he unbuttoned his shirt in front of Bulma's stunned eyes.
"W...what you're think you're doing?" she stuttered, her eyes wide in astonishment.
He growled, as if she had asked if chickens came from eggs.
"You need my measurements, don't you? If you really want to bother yourself with my new clothes, at least do that properly."
Huh? She was already sure he would refuse, and now... he did that? Bulma blinked in continued shock. That earned an impatient growl from him.
"What? Are you expecting for me to take my pants off, too?" he sneered.
That statement finally snapped Bulma out of her stupor.
"NO WAY! I was just shocked because you hate being touched so much,” she snapped out, before walking grumbling towards the cabinets and perused them until she found an old metrical measuring tape.
"That never kept your hands off me before," he teased, with a half, unpleasant smirk. Bulma preferred ignoring him.
"Straighten your arm," she snapped, and wrapped the tape around his biceps a little tighter than necessary when he complied.
Despite the woman's annoyance, though she looked more comfortable than Vegeta himself did at their proximity. Her fingers were quick, barely touching him and yet producing light shocks that felt as if pine needles were piquing him. It was even worse if she caressed him... damn, why he had to think about that? He already felt a wave of heat was spreading making its way up to his neck.
There's no chill and yet I shiver
There's no flame and yet I burn
I'm not sure what I'm afraid of
And yet I'm trembling
"Don't get all stiff like a statue! I don't bite.” Bulma teased with a giggle.
"Pity... err, as if!" Vegeta corrected himself in time, admonishing himself mentally. What was happening to him; any low-classed soldier had much more self-control!
There's no storm yet I hear thunder.
And I'm breathless, why I wonder?
Weak one moment,
Then the next I'm fine.
I feel as if I'm falling every time
Suddenly, the tape brushed his nipples, producing the same effect as an electrical shock. Caught-off guard, Vegeta almost leapt.
Bulma chided, "Will you stay still, damn! Anybody would say you never had your measurements taken before, judging by all that squirming and bouncing."
And he never had! If it depended on him, he'd never do it again, he wished to say. However, he didn't even know if he could be able to control the words from his mouth, once it opened.
Bulma paused to stare at him with curiosity. She whispered, "Y'know, your ears are red."
Vegeta stuttered, "And what does your noticing THAT have to do with anything? You need not measure my ears, too, for all I know!"
"Allright, allright, I just made a comment, your asshole," she mumbled sullenly as she wrapped the tape even tighter around his large chest. Vegeta suppressed a moan. Even better, he had forgotten his usual stretches before showering, and that freezing water he had taken on his back certainly hadn't help.
"Do you really need to stretch this wretched tape so tight? I'm beginning to think I'll not fit in my new clothes when they're ready!" he snarled.
"If you really want it fits on you..." Bulma was rapidly loosing patience. Then she noticed the man's narrowed eyes.
"Are you feeling well?"
Vegeta said through clenched teeth, "That's none of your concern."
However, Bulma knew that was a lie. Too many times she had seen that same look on Yamcha's face, after he pushed himself too hard in his training. In her father she had seen it too, sometimes, when the old man worked too much, and then her mother massaged his shoulders. Unconsciously, a soft smile curled up the corners of her mouth. My, my, even Saiyans could suffer with muscular aches! That made Vegeta look so human... and vulnerable.
"Wait. I'll try to make you feel better," Bulma offered. So saying she reached up and rested her hands on the prince's bare shoulders. He winced as if her touch had burned him.
"What the hell are you doing..."
"Shut up, you fool. I'm just going to massage your shoulders! You do want the pain to stop, don't you?"
Vegeta knew what a massage was. Freeza's second in command and the Ginyu troop had the privilege of courting with a team of massaging girls, after their hardest battles. It was a known fact that they actually did not only massage but provided other `services'! The three Saiyans used to sneer a lot in private about the famous "massage" situation, perhaps that was why Zarbon looked so much like a dainty flower and the Ginyus danced like ballerinas.
He wanted to say he didn't need any kind of pampering like this, but nothing left his lips besides a few mumbles. Apparently, she took that as a yes.
Bulma urged, "Relax. You don't need to stiffen your back like this. I'm not going to cause any harm. Just relax... yes! It's not so hard, is it?"
"Hrrmmm..." that was the only sound Vegeta was able to produce in that moment. It wasn't soo bad... no... Bulma started singsonging monotonously as she rubbed his wide shoulder blades. Despite her work with machines, her hands were very soft and smooth. Vegeta always had always disliked warriors with calloused hands, since he was proud of keeping his smooth. Just because you were a warrior didn't mean that you had to slack off, he thought, so he almost never removed his gloves even for simple training.
"Feel better?" she asked.
"Hrm, hard to say, since now you're torturing my ears. Down, now... no, not here, stupid girl. There... yes. Now push harder," he heard himself saying, very distantly, like it was the voice of someone else, not his.
He never thought he could ask someone to touch his body. Since his birth he had been untouchable and completely inaccessible. He wasn't a common Saiyan, he was the Prince, and above the common mortals. Perhaps he was even the Super Saiyan, and that almost put him among the gods. Then, when he lost everything to become Freeza's property, it had been a shock to receive the punishments and tortures like a common low-classed soldier. Worse far more than the pain, had been the humiliation of having been knocked from his pedestal and driven into the mud that cradled the scum. That only contributed his usual repulsion at any physical contact. Especially because of a humiliating memory from when he was sixteen years old...
<i>He had come back from a battle, and needed to spend a few hours in the regeneration tank. When he finally could leave the tank, Zarbon appeared in the medical room with a message for the doctor.
"And about you, Vegeta?" the green-haired alien said, without looking at the small prince. "Freeza wants to see you as soon you're ready."
"Now the great Zarbon has become Freeza's message boy?" sneered the teenager, as he stalked toward the table where his new clothes were and started dressing. At this, Zarbon whirled angrily towards him. However, his irritated glare soon was replaced by a very appreciative look.
Vegeta felt the taller man's gaze and looked back as he reached for his pants. "What?" he barked arrogantly, trying to hide his discomfort . With a start, he realized then that Zarbon was mere centimeters to him, a dangerous smile twisting into place on his green thin lips.
"My, my..." he whispered. "Now I understand why Master Freeza bothers himself so much of keeping you alive. And I thought you were only a scrawny ugly brat..."
So saying he reached down and touched the prince's shoulder. Slowly, his hand slid down on the teenager's biceps, well developed for a sixteen-year-old boy. Vegeta stiffened and clenched his teeth at the touch, fighting against the revulsion that female-faced creature inspired in him. However, he knew what would happen if Freeza received a complaint about his accusation of insubordination.
Zarbon's cold hand glided down Vegeta's torso, dangerously close to his backside.
"Maybe I'll ask him to lend you a little to me for a change of pace?" he teased, his hand dangerously close to the teenager's backside. "Wouldn't you like that, Vegeta? I promise I'll be much gentler than Master Freeza..."
That was more than Vegeta could bear. No longer caring if he would be punished or not, he slapped Zarbon's hand away.
"Take your filthy paws off me!" he bellowed as he pushed the taller alien off and backed away across the room. "I don't care about what you have heard about me, but it's not true! I'm not Freeza's boy-toy! And I'll never be yours, either."
Zarbon's smile died. Slowly, he raised his hand as to punish the boy, but stopped, his eyes glinting with malice.
"You forget who you are, Vegeta.” He said, very, very slowly “Don't think that only because you were once the prince of an monkey race which is fortunately extinct, or because you have won so many battles, that you have any will or right. If our Master decides you'll give us some... special attentions, let's say, then you'll have to do it. And you'll have to smile, too, and not making a pout like this."
Having delivered his message, he twisted his mouth in a cruel smirk, and then left.
The young Saiyan grabbed his trousers and pulled them as quickly as he could. Zarbon's touch still burned on his skin. It made him feel filthy almost disgusted with himself, at the point of feeling his eyes sting. He would have liked to clean himself, to disinfect from that creature's touch, to rub his body until his skin bleed to get rid of that horrid slimy sensation... but he had to present himself to Freeza immediately. He grabbed his tank top, and paused momentarily to stare at it. It was the common type he always wore, opened necked without sleeves.
Zarbon would be probably be there, at Freeza's main apartments... leering at him again. And Freeza, too... The thought of both of those two maggots drooling at his exposed arms and shoulders almost made Vegeta throw up.
"That's not what I want! " he bellowed to the doctor as he threw the piece of cloth down "Go and get me another shirt."
"But Master Vegeta..." stuttered the surgeon "That is the kind of shirt you always wear."
"That has no sleeves, idiot! I want something that'll really protect me!" Vegeta roared.</i>
Zarbon never spoke the subject, or even came onto him again. Actually, thinking back after all these years, the behaviour of the green alien had been strange, since he always had spurned the Saiyans as "monkeys" and found them ugly. More than likely, the little flower had said all those things in revenge for the prince having called him 'messenger boy'. Yet he had poked a painful, open wound in Vegeta's already scarred pride. The rumors about the 'real reason' of Freeza 'protecting' the teenager where well-know by his jealous colleagues - Vegeta always suspected that Kiwi had started them - and the jokes and innuendos ran behind his back, even among those who feared him.
There was nothing he could do, however, for even Freeza found those rumors deliciously amusing and encouraged them. Even though Icejins were hermaphrodite, like Namekians, that didn't mean that they were pure and chaste. There were also rumors about Freeza taking up with Zarbon, as well about the 'secret' orgies the terrible tyrant had with selected slaves. Even though his soldiers -save the higher rank ones- were pushed to adopt a monk-like regime, at least in their quarters. Vegeta himself had occasionally noticed that horned pink snail staring at him in a odd way, after he became a teenager.
For all those reasons, it wasn't a wonder that Zarbon's small 'seducing' act had practically driven the still inexperienced Saiyan into a panic. For a while, he went through a sort of paranoia, seeing leering eyes and drooling mouths in every face of the Ice Planet headquarters. He even went so far as to avoid Radditz' and Nappa's company, and his two henchmen wondered what they had done wrong. After over a month, however, he came to realize that was stupid and went back to his usual ways. Nevertheless for the rest of his soldier's career he dressed only shirts closed to the neck, while most of the soldiers wore open tanktops and shorts. The simple thought that one of those disgusting aliens could be secretly lusting over him was enough to upset his stomach, and even a 'visit' he paid once along with Radditz and Nappa to Ginyu's massage girls (actually, he had been practically dragged!), could change that.
However, while he remembered all that, Vegeta realized he didn't feel the usual loathing. It was like his memories had lost their force with the passage of time.
Maybe it was because her hands were warm, and not cold like Zarbon's. Or, most probably, because she was a woman. But why hadn't he felt that way during the 'visit' he'd taken with Nappa and Radditz to the Ginyus' 'massage girls'? True that he couldn't compare Bulma to those purple and red-faced whores with three breasts... not at all.
She had stopped singing, fortunately. He felt her smooth breath fanning the back of his neck. It didn't help in any way to assuage the heat overtaking that patch of skin, actually it produced the opposite effect. He caught himself wishing for her to move even closer, so he could feel her breasts brushing against his bare back. She was wearing those short skirts again. Hmm... if he reached out, he could touch the skin of her thigh and...
Distantly, he felt a hand plunging into his hair, and thought absently that he didn't need any massages on his scalp. Bulma's voice reached his ears, like in a dream.
"Your hair is soft... like Goku's," she muttered lightly to herself.
Vegeta's eyes snapped open instantaneously. He whirled around, his pupils shrunk and reduced to pinholes.
"You touched Kakarott's hair?!" he demanded, in a shocked tone that any old maid would envy.
"Not only did I touch it but I washed it, too," Bulma confirmed innocently, completely missing his ire. "He had only turned 12, when I found him, and he didn't even know what a bath was. I guess that he only washed himself when he had to swim or to fish - he used to fish skinny-dipping... he still does that, I think."
Her blue eyes drifted into a far-off look with the remembrances of those Dragon Ball hunting days long past.
Vegeta took several calming breaths and forced himself to relax. It was nothing, after all, and he actually felt grateful for her silly tale. For a moment, he had considered attacking the woman... If she casually hadn't mentioned his rival... Vegeta released his breath in relief. Still, he couldn't help but feeling his blood boil when he heard Bulma talking about Kakarot like that, even though there was nothing wrong with the way she did it. Why in hell did he feel so angry?
Bulma stared back at him with confused, slightly hurt eyes, like a puppy who waved its tail in order to cheer up its master, and instead of being petted received a smack. Why did he look so angry now? Just because she had said Goku's name? He looked so good a few moments ago... almost happy, if that is possible. I never had seen him like this, before. What a shame. She shook her head. Damn, that man was so obsessed with the poor Goku that he couldn't even hear a word about him without exploding! What a crackpot!
To confuse her even more, Vegeta turned away from her and marched silently towards the door, without even grabbing his shirt.
"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.
"You've got what you needed, don't you?" he answered, glaring at her over one muscled shoulder.
Bulma answered, "Of course not! I need your pants measurements, too!"
His pants? Vegeta's eyes slowly widened up as the implication of her words made their way into his brain. She meant she would wrap that blasted tape around his... hips... around his thigh? Close to his...
She had to be kidding!
"I have to relieve myself," he said, looking unusually sheepish, before disappearing through the door.
