Chapter Text
Vegeta picked up a plate of muffins on the kitchen counter, curious to try them. After grabbing one off the top of the stack, he bit into it, using his pinky to flick off a dark brown crumb that landed on his black tank top.
Something seemed off about the texture in his mouth. Amidst the cake-like bread and chocolate chips was a chewy piece resisting his mastication. Once he set the plate down on the counter again, he managed to spit out the piece that was bothering him into the trash can by the fridge and studied the muffin in his hand. There appeared to be some kind of waxy paper on the baked good. Carefully, he picked at it and peeled it off.
Did Earthlings eat this paper? What was it for? It was only on the bottom of the food, so it wasn’t like it was needed to-
Interrupting his thoughts, Bulma tromped in wearing a tight T-shirt and pajama pants, her bare feet padding on the tile floor. She saw him holding a muffin liner in the air.
“How many times have I told you not to eat with your gloves on!”
Vegeta tossed the liner onto the counter as he frowned in confusion. “You’ve never mentioned it before.”
“Oh,” Bulma chuckled, “Maybe I’ve just been screaming it internally all this time then.”
As she moved toward him, he leaned backward against the counter, thinking he was getting out of her way, but she stopped in front of him and took the muffin out of his hand.
“Hey!”
“You can eat it in a sec,” she pulled off his white gloves one at a time and placed them on the counter beside him, commenting as she grabbed one of his bare hands, “Your fingers are slender.”
Vegeta’s shoulders tensed at up the casual touch. He would’ve yanked his hand away, but he didn’t want to seem scared of her.
“Slender? Compared to what?” Vegeta’s fingers were wide for their shorter length, as wide as Kakarot’s. He had no idea why she would make such a statement. The weakling had hands that reminded him of spiders. Thankfully, Yamcha hadn’t been around lately, since Bulma had screamed at him on the front lawn a few months ago.
Bulma took hold of Vegeta’s other hand and examined it.
“Did you know the more you physically strain your hands, the bigger your finger joints will get? It’s the body’s way of protecting itself.” She began to firmly massage his palm, starting in the center and using her thumbs to press outward. She peeked up at him to see his reaction. The tension in his shoulders relaxed.
“I figured you would like this,” she switched to the other hand. “Have you ever had a massage before?”
Her expression was pleasant, a mood he hadn’t seen on her in a while.
“This is called a massage?” Whatever it was, it felt too nice for Vegeta to object.
“It’s when someone rubs your muscles down. It’s meant to relax you.” She moved her hands up past his wrist and kneaded his forearm, pulling along the tough sinews of the veiny limb. “Here on earth, professional athletes will often get massages from physical therapists.”
“I don’t need a therapist.”
Bulma snorted, “I’m not sure I agree with that, but I’m not here to argue.”
She moved her attention to his other forearm, squeezing, pressing, and rubbing with her thumbs.
Vegeta felt like he could stand here forever and let her work him over. The uncomfortable closeness aside, it was worth it. He wondered how long she would be willing to keep this up. It had to be tiring.
She released her grip on his forearm and slid her hands alongside both of his bare upper arms, rubbing down his biceps and triceps, careful not to squeeze too much and trigger a tensing reflex. Now that her attention was higher up, she could sneak more glances at his face. The normal scowl he wore was erased and his black eyes were half closed, unfocused. She shifted to squeezing his shoulders, watching for any signs of him being uncomfortable. He realized at some point he was staring at her chest, so he moved his chin up and met her eyes.
She felt his shoulders tighten under her touch, so she decided he was probably ready to be done. She grinned as she held onto his shoulders while she leaned in to quickly kiss him before she left, but after her lips left his, she realized what she had done.
Vegeta was frozen, his black eyes wider than she had ever seen them before.
“Oh no,” she whispered, remaining where she was, still holding his shoulders.
What was that? Vegeta wondered. Did she mistake him for Yamcha for a second?
“That didn’t count!” Bulma claimed.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I mean, that wasn’t… I didn’t mean to… your first kiss needs to be better than that!”
Vegeta frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest, “Who says that’s my first kiss?”
Bulma raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her hips. “Oh? You’re telling me you’re experienced at this?”
Vegeta’s face turned a little pink. “You shouldn’t make assumptions about-”
“Okay, big shot,” she interrupted, checking her watch, “I am going to kiss you. And I’m not going to stop until I’m convinced you know what you’re doing. Or until my timer goes off, whichever comes first. You have less than 3 minutes.”
“I'm not agreeing to MMM!”
Bulma leaned in aggressively, gripping his tank top as she pulled him toward herself with all of her strength and claimed his mouth. Vegeta’s lips parted in surprise as his words were smothered, and she invaded his face. He felt like he was being devoured, and the only way to fight back was to close his mouth again. Her upper lip got trapped in his, so he opened his mouth again, just barely, but her bottom lip shoved its way in.
As he pushed his mouth against hers, he released his arms from his chest and gripped her waist, initially intending on pushing her away to end this madness. However, her fists released her death grip on the fabric of his shirt as her hands slid around to embrace him, one shifting over his shoulder to dig her fingers into the hair on his neck and one hand moving down to his lower back. Something about this change in position made his heart race.
Here he was now, engaging in a behavior he had previously found disgusting, especially when he had happened to catch her doing this with that scarred-faced boyfriend. Strange how pleasant it felt when he was receiving such attention.
His hands slowly shifted from her waist to her back as he held her closer. His mouth worked to keep up with her, and mercifully she slowed down, letting him concentrate a little better on what he was doing. Around the time he finally felt like he was getting the hang of this, and he could tell he was getting her riled up based on how her heart was pounding against his chest and her breathing was just as desperate as his, a beeping sound went off behind him.
Vegeta released her as she leaned away and pulled her arms off him. After checking her watch, she tried to catch her breath and swallowed. “You had no idea what you were doing.”
Vegeta’s gaze shifted to the floor in defeat.
“There’s no shame in it though,” she smirked as his eyes returned to meet hers, “You figured it out quickly enough.”
Vegeta dared a lingering glance at her curved lips before he locked eyes with her again.
“If you bring this up again later,” Bulma lifted her chin, “I’ll probably deny it ever happened.”
Vegeta blinked in confusion.
“But,” she tilted her head toward him and lowered her voice, “the next time you kiss me, don’t be afraid to use your hands more. They’re an important part of the experience.”
The next time?! Vegeta’s jaw slackened as she grinned mischievously and left the kitchen.
He could hear her muttering to herself as she walked down the hall, “This was a terrible idea. I have no self-control.”
He looked down at his black tank top and noticed how much Bulma had stretched out the neck. Maybe next time he should take his shirt off, so she didn’t ruin his clothes?
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…PRESENT DAY…
Bulma marched into the kitchen with her lab coat on. As soon as she spotted him, she stopped and stared. Vegeta was helping himself to a triple layered roast beef sandwich for lunch. The crumbs and drippings of his previous two sandwiches covered the plate.
“What?” Vegeta noticed her lack of movement and stared back. “You hungry? You look jealous.”
He chomped down. Bulma let out a single breathy laugh and shook her head.
“I’m just happy to see you.”
Vegeta frowned at her as he swallowed. “We had breakfast together this morning.”
“I didn’t know where you were, so I’m glad I found you.”
“You always know where I am,” he responded gruffly as he took another generous bite of his lunch and gulped it down. Even if he spent time on Beerus’ planet to train, she knew about it. He had learned long ago that going AWOL was not acceptable husband behavior.
“Doesn’t matter,” Bulma seemed to snap herself out of whatever had distracted her, “I need you in the lab.”
“Hngh.” He bit into his sandwich as he grunted in complaint. He didn’t bother to swallow before asking, “Why?”
“I’ll explain when you join me in the lab.”
“I’ll be there after I’m done training.” He had only done his morning workout so far, and his one-piece sleeveless bodysuit showed hardly any sweat.
“No. I’ve turned off the gravity chamber.”
“What?!”
“I’m using the power the gravity chamber would normally use.”
“For what? A new project? Why didn’t you warn me about this?”
“Maybe because I didn’t want you running off making other plans. I need you here. In the lab.”
“Will the gravity chamber be out of commission the rest of the day?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how fast you finish eating and help me in the lab!”
He scowled and scarfed down the rest of his sandwich.
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“Alright, I’m here. Let’s get whatever this is over with.” Vegeta stood in front of her desk with his arms crossed as he studied her myriads of scribbled notes, formulas and sketches. One note caught his eye that read: ‘I can’t do this. I have no self-control!’
Bulma walked to the front of the desk to join him. Her husband wouldn’t move from his position, so she sat against the edge of the desk, crossing her ankles near his boots.
She sighed and clasped her fingers together in her lap. “I’m going to tell you about a problem, but before I do, I want you to know there’s already a solution.”
“Okay,” Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, shifting his feet so he could face her more directly, “Are you going to explain the problem or the solution first?”
“Which would you prefer?”
He gave it some thought. “Tell me the problem.”
“Trunks is sick.”
“I saw him before school. He seemed fine.”
“Not this Trunks, the Trunks from the future.”
“What? How do you know?”
She glanced inadvertently to some of the notes on her desk, “Doesn’t matter. It’s a disease caused by temporal radiation.”
A disease caused by radiation? Vegeta’s mind could only think of one possibility. “You mean he has cancer?”
“Not exactly.”
“What are the symptoms?”
“Time gaps. From the outside, it’s almost like seizures, but instead of the brain experiencing an electrical burst of activity, the activity of the cerebrum temporarily freezes, as though time has stopped. Once the brain starts up again, his consciousness picks up right where it left off.”
Vegeta frowned as he listened.
Bulma continued, “If Trunks has an episode mid-sentence, he finishes the sentence whenever his brain restarts and seems completely unaware that any time has passed, except for the fact that his surroundings may have changed. It started off mild, happening once a day, lasting only a few seconds. Last I heard, the episodes have extended into several minutes and the frequency has increased to several times a day.”
“So, it’s progressively getting worse.”
Bulma nodded.
Vegeta leaned closer. “I still want to know how you were informed of all this.”
“I’ve recently received messages from his timeline.”
“How? His timeline was destroyed, wasn’t it?”
Bulma squinted and looked away for a second. “Riiiight. But there’s gotta be more than one timeline. For him. Trunks has time traveled more than once. Cell traveled and created a new timeline too.”
“Does that mean there’s four or five timelines now?” Vegeta asked, more to himself than her, then he uncrossed his arms to count on his fingers, “Wait, we were in the future not that long ago. Did we create new timelines?”
Bulma’s eyes widened, “I… uh…,” she cleared her throat, “I can’t verify the number of timelines or which timeline we’re dealing with…”
“Who is contacting you from the future?”
She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him, “Who do you think?”
“Of course,” Vegeta rolled his eyes and gestured to her with a hand, “Future you managed to figure out how to communicate with the past.”
“I’ve done more than that. You haven’t let me explain the solution.”
“Go ahead,” Vegeta sighed and motioned for her to continue, “Keep it simple.”
“Better shielding.”
Vegeta blinked. Bulma uncrossed her arms and gripped the edge of the desk as she tilted her head at him. She smiled softly as if she was done explaining everything.
“That’s too simple,” Vegeta shook his head, and beckoned her to continue, “Give me a little more.”
“The other me can create the time machines with better shielding, so there is no temporal radiation exposure. Then Trunks will never be sick.”
“Great. So, what did you need me for?”
“I already have the shielding plans. I need you to go back and provide them to me.”
“Why not use the dragonballs?”
“There aren’t any dragonballs in the future,” Bulma reminded him, “at least in Trunks’ timeline.”
“I know that! I mean now. Wish for them to be sent back in time.”
Vegeta moved behind her desk to open the drawer where she kept her radar. Bulma stood to watch him as he pulled out the dragon radar and turned it on. Nothing showed up on the grid.
Vegeta couldn’t hide his irritation. “I see. They’re unavailable at the moment. Maybe they wouldn’t be, if you would stop using them to wish for cosmetic improvements!”
Bulma gasped, putting her hands on her hips, “What an accusation!”
“I’m right and you know it.” Vegeta eyed her chest for a lingering moment then gave her a pointed expression as he tossed the radar back into the drawer and slammed it shut. She peeked down at herself and looked back up with an open mouth, her face turning a dark shade of pink.
“So, we wait until the dragonballs are available again?” Vegeta shrugged, “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”
“The dragonballs were never going to fix this because Shenron can only affect his own timeline. Besides, I need this done now!” She began to sound desperate.
“Why now? Trunks won’t get sick for years!”
“Because the connection to the future is limited. The window is closing.”
Vegeta squinted in suspicion.
“I’m tired of explaining everything. Believe me or don’t,” Bulma huffed in exhaustion, and raised her hands in an exaggerated shrug, “It’s our boy who’s at risk. Are you going to help me save our son or not?”
“What are you asking me to do exactly?”
“Take a little journey to the past so I have access to the shielding plans before I ever make a time machine.”
“How am I supposed to go back in time? Beerus destroyed your time machine.”
She nodded and blinked as if processing what he said, “But… I wasn’t planning on using a machine like that anyway. I have a method that’s less risky.”
“Which is…?”
“Instead of traveling in a ship, I can transmit your consciousness through time.”
“My consciousness?” Vegeta’s tone was skeptical. This already sounded like a terrible idea.
“You’ll be in your younger body. It shouldn’t even branch the timelines because the impact would be minimal. Like a pebble in a stream.”
“A pebble in a stream?”
“Yeah, you know if you toss a pebble into a stream, the water keeps flowing in the same direction, right? But if a log is thrown across the stream, then the water goes around, and starts branching out. So, if you do it right, you’re not going to change anything major, and the timeline won’t branch out any more than it already has.”
“If Trunks’ visits were like logs, creating branched timelines, how am I supposed to keep my effect minimal?”
“Just try to minimize contact with people. That’s what you typically do anyway, so this job is perfect for you.”
“Why can’t YOU do it?”
“Because I have to run the transmission equipment.” She pointed with a thumb at the workbench in the back of the lab.
Vegeta grunted, unable to argue with her. “So, what do I do, go back in time and ask you to create better time machine shielding?”
“Well, it may involve more than one trip.”
“Hmm?”
“Choosing the destination isn’t an exact science because everyone’s mind is different. It’ll take more than one try. You need to do it at the right moment, before Trunks ever time travels, or the effect won’t reach across all timelines. You’ll need to memorize the plans and be able to recreate them once you arrive in a good spot.” She handed him a page with scientific formulas and molecular models sketched on it.
“I have to write out all of that?!”
“This is totally feasible. You don’t even have to fight anyone!”
“Fighting is what I’m good at! Sending me to be your personal errand boy isn’t utilizing my skills at all! You don’t need me for this!”
“I do, and you know why? Because you’ve been living here for well over ten years and this is where the errand needs to take place!”
“Your father would work just as well! Better actually, because he would understand this!” Vegeta shook the paper at her.
“He’s not here! You are!”
He huffed in frustration, “You’re making me regret being so available.”
“Don’t say that,” she rebuked him quietly as she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He saw sincerity in her expression and felt the slight tremble in her touch. His scowl softened. “Are you trying to say you need this done today?”
She nodded, her face full of hope.
“Fine.”