Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters therein.

K, so I'm watching football (Go Saints! Who Dat?) and I've gotten a sudden bite from the inspiration bug. Oh, and to all of you who have been reviewing and sending me such lovely messages, I love y'all!

Touch Down

"Hey, B, grab the beer, would ya? I've got my arms full of snacks over here," Krillin said as he walked from the kitchen.

"What do I look like, a tavern wench?"

Krillin chuckled. That Bulma sure was a firecracker. He almost felt sorry for whoever she would marry someday. As of late, it was looking less and less like Yamucha was going to be said poor schmuck, which brought his thoughts to the reason that the Z-Group was currently piled into the Briefs' living room.

A week earlier, Bulma had called Chi-Chi in tears because Yamucha had broken it off with her. Again. The monk rolled his eyes. Those two were worse than a high school couple, constantly switching from hot to cold at a speed that made everyone's heads spin. However, this time the damage seemed to be permanent, as the aforementioned martial artist/baseball star had secluded himself in the desert to train.

Naturally Chi-Chi, being the sugar-hearted mother that she was, had wanted to comfort her friend in the only way she knew how. Violence and food. She had immediately gotten on the horn and called their entire list of friends, save Piccolo who she told in person, and arranged this little get-together. Thus, the group found themselves draped about Bulma's couch, each chatting amiably about the current events of their lives. Even the stoic Namekian was loosening up, seeming to be in a rather heated discussion about which fighting style would best suit Dende with Tien.

Krillin smiled and shook his head, setting the small mountain of junk food on the coffee table. As he looked around at everyone relaxing and enjoying each others' company, he couldn't help but send a silent little "thank you" to Chi-Chi. She'd given them a precious gift: the gift of time with this crazy family before the world came crashing down around their ears. A shadow crossed his face, the thought of the Androids looming ever present in his thoughts. He was saddened as he realized that a mere three years with these people wasn't going to be enough.

"Alright, Your Majesty, I've brought forth the ale," Bulma grouched as she entered the room, a thick Cockney accent rolling flawlessly from her pink lips. Krillin threw his head back and laughed, taking most of the freezing bottles from her. He plunked them down next to the snacks and took a seat next to her, reveling in her nearness, her vitality. This was the Bulma that he would always remember, no matter what insanity the future threw at them.

"Okay, guys, the game's about to start," Goku shouted over the dull roar that they were creating. "Hey, Vegeta, could you toss me the remote?"

The prince, who'd just ducked his head in to see what the ruckus was about, picked up the little black device and chunked it at Goku's head. He caught it, laughing at Vegeta's grumpy expression, and flicked on the giant theater screen that took up most of the far wall. The t.v. sprang to life, and Vegeta found himself watching as two groups of humans threw a strangely shaped ball around a garish green field.

He tilted his head to the side, studying their battle armor. It looked absolutely ridiculous! Not to mention inadequate! Why would they leave their shins unguarded? Didn't they know that a properly placed shot there could take out their whole leg? Humans really were simple creatures...

He snorted, turning to head back outside and resume training. Those other idiots may have had time to waste lazing around, but he was going to be ready when those bastard tin cans came calling.

"Hey, Vegeta! Where ya goin'? You're gonna miss the football game!"

Vegeta looked over his shoulder to find all of them staring at him expectantly.

"Kakarot, why the hell would I want want to waste my time on something so trivial? Iat least remember that we have work to do."

Krillin rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on, Vegeta, don't be such a kill-joy! It's the biggest game of the season! It'll only last for a few hours, and then we can all go outside and train! Right, guys?"

He was met with a chorus of agreements and even a few pleads for the prince to stay. Clearly, the little sucker was growing on them. However, he was a bit surprised when Bulma spoke up.

"Just sit down, ya big jerk, we're gonna miss the kickoff!" She reached out and grabbed a beer, wrenching it open on her forearm. She offered it to him, and he regarded it as one might poison.

Vegeta was confused by the feeling in his chest. These people actually wantedhis company? Where they insane? He shook his head and stepped into the room, conceding that only this group of misfits could entice him into trading hardcore training for watching a silly game. He swiped the beer from Bulma and sat next to her, his arm brushing hers. He cocked an eyebrow and looked down the long row of people sandwiched onto the couch. Did they really not mind sitting so close? He didn't understand what, besides the thrill of battle, bonded them together. However, before he could brood about it, Goku turned up the volume and two men came on the screen. He nudged Bulma.

"Who're the suits?"

"Those are the broadcasters, Vegeta," she explained patiently, "it's their job to give a play-by-play account of everything that's going on in the game. It's mostly for the benefit of people who miss certain plays, or who're listening in via radio."

He nodded, satisfied by her explanation, and watched the screen.

"Hello, everybody, and welcome to the twenty-first annual Capsule Bowl, brought to you by our friends at the Capsule Corporation."

Vegeta snorted. Of course...

"Boy, have we got a show for you today, folks, as the under dogs, the West City Dragons take on the reigning champions, the Pepper City Grinders! I gotta tell you, ladies and gentlemen, this is truly the most highly anticipated match-up of any season for the last ten years! The Dragons, long noted for their skill in defense, will attempt to take down the team that has walked away victorious over everyone else for the last six years running. We come to you today deep in the heart of Dragon country..."

Everyone let out an obnoxious cheer, nearly making Vegeta shoot beer from his nose. He looked up in aggravation and watched as grown men danced around the room like morons. Even the Woman seemed to be getting involved, and it was then that he noticed her odd shirt, bearing the teams name and a number on the back.

"It's called a jersey, Vegeta," Bulma said softly, leaning into his ear so no one else would hear her. The others tended to forget that Vegeta wasn't a native, having been used to Goku for years, and she didn't want to embarrass him by making him feel like a brainless no-nothing. She reached forward and grabbed a bottle for herself, trying to ignore the goose bumps that popped up on her arm as she accidentally brushed his knee. She twisted the cap off and took a long swallow, savoring the faintly bitter tang of the alcohol sliding down her throat. She wasn't aware of a certain Saiyan watching jealously as her lips wrapped around the bottle.

.

.

.

Krillin became aware of the change in Vegeta about halfway through the second quarter. The uptight prince was laid back against the couch, his third beer cradled in his big hand. He almost looked...relaxed. Well, he was the only one.

The two teams were tied at 14-14, and halftime would begin soon. The tension in the room was thick enough to taste as the group stayed glued to the action. Every once in a while though, Vegeta would nudge Bulma and whisper something in her ear, which she surprisingly didn't seem to mind. Krillin knew that they were only talking about the game, as she would usually motion to the screen when she leaned into his ear, but the monk was sensing something besides sportsmanship bubbling between the two of them. Vegeta and Bulma, huh? Weird...

"And he's at the fifteen! The ten! The five! Folks, he could go all the way! And yes! He does it! Touch doooooown Dragons!"

Everyone cheered, high fives and back slaps abounding. Maybe they would just win this thing after all. As the marching bang filed out on the field, several of them got up to stretch and grab more snacks. Piccolo and Tien resumed their earlier conversation, and Bulma stayed right next to Vegeta. Krillin narrowed his eyes. Oh yea, something was going on there. He supposed only time would tell him just how much.

.

.

.

Despite his best efforts to be bored, by the middle of the fourth quarter Vegeta found himself getting into the human sport. Oh, it was slower than some of the other games he'd been forced to watch under Frieza's rule, and far less bloody. But he thought that was what may have been drawing him in. The men were rough with each other, but rarely took it over the line. They were almost considerate of their opponents in a way that Vegeta had never seen. The crowd was also fascinating him, almost childlike in their enthusiasm. Then there was the Woman.

Maybe she didn't notice the reaction that her inadvertent touches were causing him, but he couldn't escape it! Every small brush of her knuckles, every whisper echoing in his ear, was pushing the heat of lust closer and closer to his surface.

"Five yard penalty, unsportsmanlike conduct, ball goes to the Grinders."

The room was filled with jeers and a few below-the-belt comments aimed at the ref. Even Gohan scowled. Everyone was jittery in the way that only watching your favorite team can do. And then...

"Johanssen has the ball!-"

Krillin scooted to the edge of the couch, eyes wide.

"He's at the twenty-"

Piccolo leaned down on top of Gohan's head, expression tense.

"He's at the ten-"

Goku grabbed Chi-Chi's hand and squeezed lightly.

"He's at the five-"

Vegeta shocked himself by rooting silently for the running back, though he would've died before he admitted it.

"Touch down Dragons! Touch down Dragons!"

The room erupted into deafening cheers and claps as everyone jumped off the couch. Fist pumps and whistles filled the room. Goku threw his arms around his wife and swung her around gently, tinkling laughter rolling from her mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I don't believe it! The underdogs have beaten the Grinders! The West City Dragons are the new national champions!"

The roar inside the house swelled as the coach ran forward to accept the trophy. Bulma stood, jumping up and down and whooping excitedly. Then she turned to Vegeta, who was smirking as he watched the running back being mobbed by his team. That little son of a bitch had really done it...

"Vegeta," Bulma said breathlessly, " we did it! We won!"

She threw her arms around his neck and continued to hop around excitedly. His eyes widened as her breasts bounced and rubbed against his chest, but he didn't move. The rest of the group faded away as her scent enveloped him. He turned his nose ever so slightly into her hair and drew it in, finding it much more intoxicating than the bitter brew he'd been swilling. She let go of him abruptly, a light pink staining her cheeks, and turned to give Krillin a bear hug. The monk wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, and Vegeta was shocked at the envy threatening to burn him alive.

He stood then, and walked from the room, unable to stomach so much camaraderie in one sitting. He was halfway down the hall when her dainty hand and his arm stopped him.

"Vegeta! Where are you going? Chi-Chi is gonna throw some steaks on the grill, and Tien went on a beer run. Why don't you stay?"

"Woman, I told all of you idiots that training takes precedence over "happy fun time"."

"Oh," she said uncertainly, "well, if you change your mind..."

She let go of his arm and started to go back into the room with the others, feeling a little disappointed.

He gritted his teeth, hating the look on her face. He wanted nothing more to see that innocent joy back in her eyes.

"Bulma," he said roughly.

She turned, and her response died in her throat as he grabbed her face in his hands and slanted his lips hard over hers. Her eyes rounded, but the heat of his lips quickly soothed her, and she submitted herself wholeheartedly to the kiss. After a few seconds, they pulled apart.

"I think I like football," he said as a malevolent grin curved that delicious mouth. "You should invite those goons over more often."

"Well," she said shyly, "football season is over now...but hockey is still going! And baseball is about to start!" She grabbed his arm again and steered him into the kitchen, rattling off a list of sports a mile long.

Around the corner, a certain monk smiled, having seen the exchange. Looked like they were all going to be spending a lot more time in front of Bulma's giant screen.

Touch down, Vegeta...

And who doesn't love a good group spectator event? Sportsmanship is the heart of Southern America, folks! Love y'all!