Disclaimer: Toriyama owns all DB stuff. I just borrowed the characters.
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Vegeta emerged from the gravity room after four continuous days of training.
"About time you got out of there. I suppose that you want to eat now. How can you go without food for four days," inquired his blue-haired housemate.
"I eat."
"Really? What could satisfy a Saiyan's appetite?"
"This planet has an abundance of natural resources. The wild game provides sufficient sustenance for me."
Bulma recalled a young Goku telling her that he ate mostly lizards and frogs -- and enjoyed them. She shuddered, remembering the wolf she saw him roast. "You've been eating lizards and wolves?" she half-joked.
Vegeta nodded once. "Mostly the reptiles."
"What? We have perfectly good food here and you prefer lizards? How many lizards do you have to eat to fill that Saiyan stomach of yours?"
"One is sufficient."
She gave him a dubious look. "Just how big are these animals?"
"Large enough. Strangely, some of them have absurdly tiny forelegs. However, I prefer the taste of the long-necked ones. The vegetation they consume enhances the taste of their flesh."
Bulma briefly wondered how often he read the dictionary. She let his words sink in before her genius mind sparked. "You've been eating dinosaurs!?"
"I believe that is what you humans call them."
"But, you're a prince. You hunt and cook for yourself?"
"I am a warrior. I rely only on myself."
"Then what about that 'drying cloth' business? You sure seemed to want a servant then."
"I did. But you proved woefully inadequate."
Bulma let the remark slide. After all, he had not bothered to demand her services since that day. "Hey, Mister, you will no longer be eating like that. We may not be on great terms, but I don't want people thinking that I'm a bad hostess, even to you. From now on, you'll be having your meals with me and my family."
"I have dined with you before. The portions were less than meager. I would starve and become malnourished. I have no intention of you hindering my progress."
Bulma waved a hand in the air nonchalantly. "Not another thought. I'll consider it a challenge to appease your appetite. If you don't agree, I'll interrupt your training at every chance. And you know that I can do it, too. By the way, what's it like to eat a dinosaur?"
Vegeta shrugged and turned toward the house. "Smells like fish. Tastes like chicken."
Bulma barely began her inspection of the gravity room when she heard a scream. A panicked male voice could be heard crying, "I'm trying, I'm trying, but they're not meant to be worn that way."
Instinctively knowing that the Saiyan was somehow involved, she rushed into the kitchen to investigate the commotion. An obese man in dirty T-shirt and jeans was unsuccessfully trying to pull his pants up past his enormous beer gut. One angry Saiyan prince was firing ki blasts at his feet.
"Vegeta! What's going on here? Leave the plumber alone. He's here to fix the water pipes."
The Saiyan sneered and let the glow on his finger dissipate. "His appearance disgusts me. He insults me with his very presence."
"Mister, like I said, it's in union rules. Section one, article twelve: All plumbers will attire themselves accordingly to be easily recognized. Pants should be worn low on the hips such that when one bends over, a minimum of one inch, but not to exceed three inches, of ass crack shall be exposed," the plumber recited.
Bulma sighed. "Vegeta, leave the guy alone. He came to fix our water pipes. The sooner he gets to work, the sooner he'll be out of here. You can't hurt people just because they're unattractive -- no offense," she remarked to the plumber.
"None taken," the plumber replied.
"Fine. But make it quick and repair them correctly the first time. I do not desire to see your hideous hide again."
The plumber gulped and for the first time in his paid-by-the-hour career, he rushed to complete his job.
########
After an intense training session, Vegeta headed toward the kitchen to quench his thirst. Before Bulma's 'invitation' to dine with the Briefs, he had rarely entered the house during waking hours for two reasons: Bulma and her mother. One was too loud and the other too touchy.
He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. No milk, no sodas, and he was not in the mood for water. He spied a tall, dark bottle lying on its side at the bottom of the 'fridge. Pulling it out, he read the label -- Cabernet Sauvignon -- and popped the cork. Sniff. "Hmm, smells like grape juice but not quite. Looks like the liquid Frieza used to imbibe." He also remembered seeing the older Briefs woman drinking something like this. The unabashed Saiyan took a swig directly from the bottle. He noted that the flavor was acceptable, but the drink did leave a strange sensation on his tongue and throat.
Walking out toward the living room, still drinking from the bottle, he noticed reason number one sitting on the couch watching TV.
Sniff. "What's that smell?" His housemate turned around. "Man, Vegeta, you need a shower. It's about time you got out of that machine. Hey! What are you drinking? We were saving that for dinner tonight."
Bulma launched herself over the back of the couch toward the warrior. "Give me that. You better not have backwashed into it!" She paused in mid- reach. "Uh, Vegeta, have you been doing pushups with your face?"
Had she just insulted him? The Saiyan growled. "What are you thaying, Womanth? Huhth?! Whath iths habbenig thew by bouthf?"
Bulma wiped his spittle from her face. "Just turn around and look in the mirror."
"Aaabthth!" He swooned and fell to his knees. For a moment, he doubted that the reflection bouncing back at him was real: purple lips swollen to an immense size; a thick tongue trying to push its way through them; his face and neck were red as beets.
"Vegeta, put that bottle down. I think that you're having a reaction to that wine. Now, don't panic, but your throat might..."
Vegeta clutched his neck and started wheezing.
"...become constricted." She forced herself to stay calm. "Okay. Vegeta, stay here. I'll be right back. Remember, you fighters can hold your breath for awhile, so this shouldn't be a big deal." But her voice was less than convincing.
He focused on the grotesque creature staring back at him through the mirror. "I look like a spawn sprung from the loins of Dodoria! The indignities of it all! To be downed by a drink, and looking so fugly... " His thoughts trailed as he became increasingly light-headed from the severe hypotension caused by the dilatation of his peripheral blood vessels. Conversely, his lungs seemed to be on fire as the constricted bronchioles restricted further air intake.
Bulma hurried to the kitchen medicine cabinet. "Epi-Pen! Epi-Pen! Hope it works on a Saiyan." By the time she returned to the living room, Vegeta was on the floor, no longer red, but turning a shade of purple completely off any known color spectrum. Quickly breaking the glass vial of the Epi- Pen, she jammed it against his left thigh.
Vegeta, barely coherent on the floor, could only concentrate on getting air into his lungs. He felt his consciousness gradually slipping. A sudden sharp pain lanced through his leg and the room became brighter. "GASP!" Air, wonderful, tasty air rushed into his mouth, down his throat to his waiting lungs. He sat up and heaved heavy breaths.
"You O.K.?" Before he could nod, she grabbed his left arm and plunged a syringe into it.
"What are you doing to me?" he roared and jerked his arm from her grasp.
"Wow, epinephrine works on Saiyans, too. Well, for your info, you were having an anaphylactic reaction to that wine. I just saved your life, Buster! And that other shot was an antihistamine. For future reference, stay away from alcohol, more specifically, ethanol."
His thoughts were conflicted. Why would she save his life? They barely tolerated each other. "Why?" he asked.
"Well, you're apparently allergic to the stuff. And the next reaction will be quicker -- "
"No. I mean, why did you save me?" he growled quietly.
"I don't know. I guess it's in my nature. I'd save a rabid dog if I could."
"Hmmpf." Vegeta stood and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute. You owe me."
"I owe you nothing. I am training to destroy those androids to save your world. Therefore, we are even."
"Nuh uh. Don't give me that. You're training to prove your power and boost that already humongous ego of yours. And you couldn't care less about this world. You know you owe me, and I intend to collect." She thought for a few moments before deciding on her payment. She snapped her fingers. "There's a moon festival tomorrow near the coliseum. Since I don't want to go alone, you'll accompany me."
"Was not the moon destroyed?"
"Yeah, but you know people. Any occasion to throw a party."
"Then go bully that weakling boyfriend of yours to attend with you. He seems to enjoy such forays. I have no time for trivial matters. I need to continue with my training and become a Super Saiyan."
"You shouldn't be exerting yourself. Your lips are still swollen, and your rash will last for about a week. Training will only make the condition worse. Then you'd be a Super Stupid Saiyan." She laughed like a horse.
Vegeta blinked. He found her humor severely lacking.
"You know I'm right," she continued.
"I reiterate: Get that Yamcha nut to go with you."
"Yamcha's off training in the desert. Besides, he's not my boyfriend anymore, not like that's any of your business."
She and Yamcha had parted amicably weeks ago. Both realized that their relationship had changed. After so many years together, they began to settle into a comfortable routine -- much like a deep friendship. The two were realistic enough to admit that if they were meant to be closer, then it would have happened years ago. So after the official break-up, Yamcha returned to the desert with Puar for training.
Vegeta thought about his situation. Perhaps he should threaten her with bodily harm. No, he had to admit that she did just save his life. Dammit. "All right. But after tomorrow, you will leave me be."
"Deal. Be ready by 10:00 a.m. And act civil. I don't want to call attention to us and end up at the police station or anything."
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Thanks for the reviews!
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Vegeta emerged from the gravity room after four continuous days of training.
"About time you got out of there. I suppose that you want to eat now. How can you go without food for four days," inquired his blue-haired housemate.
"I eat."
"Really? What could satisfy a Saiyan's appetite?"
"This planet has an abundance of natural resources. The wild game provides sufficient sustenance for me."
Bulma recalled a young Goku telling her that he ate mostly lizards and frogs -- and enjoyed them. She shuddered, remembering the wolf she saw him roast. "You've been eating lizards and wolves?" she half-joked.
Vegeta nodded once. "Mostly the reptiles."
"What? We have perfectly good food here and you prefer lizards? How many lizards do you have to eat to fill that Saiyan stomach of yours?"
"One is sufficient."
She gave him a dubious look. "Just how big are these animals?"
"Large enough. Strangely, some of them have absurdly tiny forelegs. However, I prefer the taste of the long-necked ones. The vegetation they consume enhances the taste of their flesh."
Bulma briefly wondered how often he read the dictionary. She let his words sink in before her genius mind sparked. "You've been eating dinosaurs!?"
"I believe that is what you humans call them."
"But, you're a prince. You hunt and cook for yourself?"
"I am a warrior. I rely only on myself."
"Then what about that 'drying cloth' business? You sure seemed to want a servant then."
"I did. But you proved woefully inadequate."
Bulma let the remark slide. After all, he had not bothered to demand her services since that day. "Hey, Mister, you will no longer be eating like that. We may not be on great terms, but I don't want people thinking that I'm a bad hostess, even to you. From now on, you'll be having your meals with me and my family."
"I have dined with you before. The portions were less than meager. I would starve and become malnourished. I have no intention of you hindering my progress."
Bulma waved a hand in the air nonchalantly. "Not another thought. I'll consider it a challenge to appease your appetite. If you don't agree, I'll interrupt your training at every chance. And you know that I can do it, too. By the way, what's it like to eat a dinosaur?"
Vegeta shrugged and turned toward the house. "Smells like fish. Tastes like chicken."
Bulma barely began her inspection of the gravity room when she heard a scream. A panicked male voice could be heard crying, "I'm trying, I'm trying, but they're not meant to be worn that way."
Instinctively knowing that the Saiyan was somehow involved, she rushed into the kitchen to investigate the commotion. An obese man in dirty T-shirt and jeans was unsuccessfully trying to pull his pants up past his enormous beer gut. One angry Saiyan prince was firing ki blasts at his feet.
"Vegeta! What's going on here? Leave the plumber alone. He's here to fix the water pipes."
The Saiyan sneered and let the glow on his finger dissipate. "His appearance disgusts me. He insults me with his very presence."
"Mister, like I said, it's in union rules. Section one, article twelve: All plumbers will attire themselves accordingly to be easily recognized. Pants should be worn low on the hips such that when one bends over, a minimum of one inch, but not to exceed three inches, of ass crack shall be exposed," the plumber recited.
Bulma sighed. "Vegeta, leave the guy alone. He came to fix our water pipes. The sooner he gets to work, the sooner he'll be out of here. You can't hurt people just because they're unattractive -- no offense," she remarked to the plumber.
"None taken," the plumber replied.
"Fine. But make it quick and repair them correctly the first time. I do not desire to see your hideous hide again."
The plumber gulped and for the first time in his paid-by-the-hour career, he rushed to complete his job.
########
After an intense training session, Vegeta headed toward the kitchen to quench his thirst. Before Bulma's 'invitation' to dine with the Briefs, he had rarely entered the house during waking hours for two reasons: Bulma and her mother. One was too loud and the other too touchy.
He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. No milk, no sodas, and he was not in the mood for water. He spied a tall, dark bottle lying on its side at the bottom of the 'fridge. Pulling it out, he read the label -- Cabernet Sauvignon -- and popped the cork. Sniff. "Hmm, smells like grape juice but not quite. Looks like the liquid Frieza used to imbibe." He also remembered seeing the older Briefs woman drinking something like this. The unabashed Saiyan took a swig directly from the bottle. He noted that the flavor was acceptable, but the drink did leave a strange sensation on his tongue and throat.
Walking out toward the living room, still drinking from the bottle, he noticed reason number one sitting on the couch watching TV.
Sniff. "What's that smell?" His housemate turned around. "Man, Vegeta, you need a shower. It's about time you got out of that machine. Hey! What are you drinking? We were saving that for dinner tonight."
Bulma launched herself over the back of the couch toward the warrior. "Give me that. You better not have backwashed into it!" She paused in mid- reach. "Uh, Vegeta, have you been doing pushups with your face?"
Had she just insulted him? The Saiyan growled. "What are you thaying, Womanth? Huhth?! Whath iths habbenig thew by bouthf?"
Bulma wiped his spittle from her face. "Just turn around and look in the mirror."
"Aaabthth!" He swooned and fell to his knees. For a moment, he doubted that the reflection bouncing back at him was real: purple lips swollen to an immense size; a thick tongue trying to push its way through them; his face and neck were red as beets.
"Vegeta, put that bottle down. I think that you're having a reaction to that wine. Now, don't panic, but your throat might..."
Vegeta clutched his neck and started wheezing.
"...become constricted." She forced herself to stay calm. "Okay. Vegeta, stay here. I'll be right back. Remember, you fighters can hold your breath for awhile, so this shouldn't be a big deal." But her voice was less than convincing.
He focused on the grotesque creature staring back at him through the mirror. "I look like a spawn sprung from the loins of Dodoria! The indignities of it all! To be downed by a drink, and looking so fugly... " His thoughts trailed as he became increasingly light-headed from the severe hypotension caused by the dilatation of his peripheral blood vessels. Conversely, his lungs seemed to be on fire as the constricted bronchioles restricted further air intake.
Bulma hurried to the kitchen medicine cabinet. "Epi-Pen! Epi-Pen! Hope it works on a Saiyan." By the time she returned to the living room, Vegeta was on the floor, no longer red, but turning a shade of purple completely off any known color spectrum. Quickly breaking the glass vial of the Epi- Pen, she jammed it against his left thigh.
Vegeta, barely coherent on the floor, could only concentrate on getting air into his lungs. He felt his consciousness gradually slipping. A sudden sharp pain lanced through his leg and the room became brighter. "GASP!" Air, wonderful, tasty air rushed into his mouth, down his throat to his waiting lungs. He sat up and heaved heavy breaths.
"You O.K.?" Before he could nod, she grabbed his left arm and plunged a syringe into it.
"What are you doing to me?" he roared and jerked his arm from her grasp.
"Wow, epinephrine works on Saiyans, too. Well, for your info, you were having an anaphylactic reaction to that wine. I just saved your life, Buster! And that other shot was an antihistamine. For future reference, stay away from alcohol, more specifically, ethanol."
His thoughts were conflicted. Why would she save his life? They barely tolerated each other. "Why?" he asked.
"Well, you're apparently allergic to the stuff. And the next reaction will be quicker -- "
"No. I mean, why did you save me?" he growled quietly.
"I don't know. I guess it's in my nature. I'd save a rabid dog if I could."
"Hmmpf." Vegeta stood and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute. You owe me."
"I owe you nothing. I am training to destroy those androids to save your world. Therefore, we are even."
"Nuh uh. Don't give me that. You're training to prove your power and boost that already humongous ego of yours. And you couldn't care less about this world. You know you owe me, and I intend to collect." She thought for a few moments before deciding on her payment. She snapped her fingers. "There's a moon festival tomorrow near the coliseum. Since I don't want to go alone, you'll accompany me."
"Was not the moon destroyed?"
"Yeah, but you know people. Any occasion to throw a party."
"Then go bully that weakling boyfriend of yours to attend with you. He seems to enjoy such forays. I have no time for trivial matters. I need to continue with my training and become a Super Saiyan."
"You shouldn't be exerting yourself. Your lips are still swollen, and your rash will last for about a week. Training will only make the condition worse. Then you'd be a Super Stupid Saiyan." She laughed like a horse.
Vegeta blinked. He found her humor severely lacking.
"You know I'm right," she continued.
"I reiterate: Get that Yamcha nut to go with you."
"Yamcha's off training in the desert. Besides, he's not my boyfriend anymore, not like that's any of your business."
She and Yamcha had parted amicably weeks ago. Both realized that their relationship had changed. After so many years together, they began to settle into a comfortable routine -- much like a deep friendship. The two were realistic enough to admit that if they were meant to be closer, then it would have happened years ago. So after the official break-up, Yamcha returned to the desert with Puar for training.
Vegeta thought about his situation. Perhaps he should threaten her with bodily harm. No, he had to admit that she did just save his life. Dammit. "All right. But after tomorrow, you will leave me be."
"Deal. Be ready by 10:00 a.m. And act civil. I don't want to call attention to us and end up at the police station or anything."
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Thanks for the reviews!