Chapter Text
He was home. And it was nearly time.
They’d talked about it, as casually as if they’d been discussing what toppings to order on a pizza…
The boy from the future was their son.
Hers.
And Vegeta’s.
If ever Bulma could attribute “mind blown” to anything, that very concept was well and truly at the top of the list. Sure, Vegeta was attractive. She might even go as far as to say he was hot, sinfully hot in fact. However, not only did that hotness come with a piss-poor bad attitude, but she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who had happened to be standing right next to her at the very moment when Goku had let out a little “eep!”, gone wide-eyed and clapped both hands over his mouth after inadvertently spilling the beans about what he and the aforementioned boy from the future had discussed.
Piccolo had groaned and dropped his forehead into his palm with a dark muttering of “You had one damn job, Goku, and you didn’t even actually have to do anything other than keep your mouth shut…” Krillin’s jaw had dropped and he began chuckling nervously as he side-eyed Vegeta, who had gone dead silent as he stared straight ahead, a completely and uncharacteristically shell-shocked expression on his face as he processed what Goku had just said. Her boyfriend, however, had let out a loud exclamation of “What the hell, Bulma?! You’re having a kid with him?” as he turned to face her.
Well, not anymore. The part about her having a boyfriend, that is.
Yamcha had accused her of having feelings for her brooding houseguest in the past and she’d denied it, arguing that the poor man was simply lonely and misunderstood. He had no family, no friends, no home. What was she supposed to do, she’d countered, throw him out and let him fend for himself, especially after he’d helped them on Namek? Yamcha’s snide answer in the affirmative had resulted in them having an all-out fight and not speaking for several days. He had openly not trusted her after that, saying he’d observed the way she acted around Vegeta (overly friendly- whatever, how else was she supposed to treat a guest?) and the way Vegeta looked at her (lustfully- yeah, right) when he thought no one was looking. She shouldn’t have told him about that dream she’d had in which Vegeta turned out to be an amazingly good kisser. She’d told him as a jab in response to one of his suspicions, and it had only added fuel to the fire.
So now she found herself with no boyfriend and a moody houseguest with a bad attitude. Not exactly something to gloat about, as said houseguest didn’t show the slightest inclination toward being friendly, let alone desirous of creating this boy with her.
But then, they’d talked about it, the conversation starting off awkwardly before becoming that which had been as casual as if they’d been discussing pizza. He’d been avoiding her until she’d bumped into him in the kitchen a few months later.
@@@
“Hey, Vegeta. Hungry?” Bulma asked softly.
He just shrugged and stared at the floor, refusing to look at her.
“How about I whip us up some breakfast? I actually make a pretty mean omelette, if I do say so myself,” she informed him, going over to the refrigerator.
His stomach growled loudly and a flush of color slid over his cheeks when he heard a little giggle come from behind the open refrigerator door.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bulma announced to her silent houseguest as she piled eggs, cheese and fillings onto the countertop. “What would you like in yours?”
Again came the non-committal shrug of his shoulders.
Bulma came over to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips. “Still not talking to me? Fine. You get spinach and onion,” she retorted after a long silence, turning away to go back to her task at hand of feeding Mr. Bottomless Pit.
“I hate spinach,” came a low growl in response.
Bulma let out a mock gasp of surprise. “Oh my stars, he speaks!” She tossed the bag of spinach on the counter back into the fridge, slamming the door closed with more force than necessary.
“I do not know what you want from me, woman,” Vegeta snarled curtly.
“First off, my name is ‘Bulma’, not ‘woman’,” she informed him. “Secondly, I’m genuinely surprised that you’re allowing the behavior of an absolute idiot to control your life.”
“Are you referring to Kakarrot, or your weakling male?” Vegeta asked snidely.
“Look, Goku may be a little thick between the ears at times, but he’s not an idiot, nor would he ever deliberately do something to offend either of us,” she informed him. “And Yamcha isn’t my anything anymore. He moved right on after Goku slipped up.” Bulma let out a little huff. “I think he was sniffing around her even before then, the hypocrite. But yes, I was referring to him.”
Vegeta’s eyes narrowed at her. “That waste of ki does not control my life-”
“Or mine,” she interjected, letting out a sigh. “Look, can we just start over today, Vegeta? Please? I’m not saying we have to fall madly in love and have a million babies. But we can be friends, can’t we?”
“I neither have nor do I need friends,” came his scathing reply.
“Oh, I see.” Bulma cracked some eggs into a bowl and began scrambling them with a fork. “So you’ve already decided to let him win. That’s rather disappointing.”
He let out a disgruntled sound but couldn’t dispute what she’d said. “As I said, I do not know what you want from me,” he repeated, flopping down onto a kitchen chair in a rather unprincely manner and crossing his arms over his chest.
Bulma decided to take pity on the man and set down a mug of coffee in front of him. “I don’t want to let him win,” she informed him, unable to keep a catch from her voice. “I realize now that he’s been a controlling, manipulative bastard for a long time now, and I won’t let him do it anymore. I’m going to be friends with whomever I want, and he can go to hell!” She stormed back toward the stove, not noticing the slight upward curl of his lips.
“Hmph.” Vegeta took a gulp of his coffee. His expression betrayed his surprise that it was flavored just how he liked. But she knew just how he took his coffee. “Good for you, woman. That imbecile is beneath your station and ought to remain there.”
Bulma turned to look at him in surprise. “I…”
“Do not make the mistake of allowing him to come groveling back to you as he has in the past in an attempt to get back into your good graces. I have already removed him from the premises twice since you rid yourself of his company,” Vegeta informed her. “Your social status alone ought to render you…” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, trying to recall the expression. “Out of his league.”
“O-oh,” she murmured, a blush sprinkling across her cheeks. “But he’s a professional baseball player.”
“Bah, ridiculous.” Vegeta dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “The only thing that useless skill gets him is the company of the many females he has hidden under your nose for the last few months he courted you. Swinging a bat and frolicking around in the dirt as he attempts to complete the pointless task of ‘rounding the bases’ won’t save that idiot from the androids when they come.”
Despite the confirmation that Yamcha had in fact been cheating on her, Bulma couldn’t hold back a giggle at the thought of her ex ‘frolicking’ around the bases. “No, it won’t,” she agreed, taking a sip of her own coffee. It wouldn’t win back her heart either, only strengthening her resolve to keep him at arm’s length as an ex and little else. “Thanks, Vegeta,” she murmured, allowing a bit of a smile to escape across her lips. “I assume you want everything here in your omelette?”
He shifted a little in his chair but didn’t turn to look at her. “Sure. Why not?” His voice was unusually soft in tone as he spoke, making her wonder if his response was meant to include more than just acknowledgment of her breakfast offering that morning.