gorysortofstory | OPEN SHIP WITH ME POST

It's a good thing Vegeta isn't interested in the alcohol supply, otherwise the beer and those prized bottles of aged wine would've been drained by now. His only interest is in the food, which is why he's currently eating an uncooked ham as casually as a child eats a bag of chips.

Some people sit down with popcorn to watch television. Others do so with a whole smoked pork.

Bulma spent a good amount of her teen years around Goku and yet she's still alarmed by seeing things like someone eating a raw ham all by themselves. She grabs a beer from the fridge and opens it before making her way over towards him.

"You could of gotten my mom to cook that for you, you know."

But not her. Don't let Bulma cook.

If she cooked for him, Vegeta would eat it. Of course, he would excuse the act as never being one to let food go to waste when there were peasants starving on impoverished planets, but in reality he was far too polite to decline a meal from someone who was kind enough to open their home to him. Vegeta didn't acknowledge that kindness often and wouldn't be caught dead so much as uttering the word, but he was aware of it. He was aware of how unpopular he was, how much Kakarot and his band of miserable misfits distrusted him, and how anxious it made that low-level human she insisted on pairing herself off with to have him here.

It can't be easy, having him as an unwanted guest who did nothing but damage her house and destroy her and her father's upgrades to the chamber, but they didn't seem to show it. That sort of resilience to adversity was admirable, especially in this hot-headed woman who went against the grain of everything he was brought up to believe about those of the opposing gender.

"Why?"

Honest question. He could eat it raw or cooked, it didn't matter much to him. Food was food, especially after years under Frieza's thumb where food of any kind could quickly become scarce — especially in a room full of starving Saiyans.

Vegeta was even polite enough to remove the half devoured turkey leg from his mouth when he questioned her comment. Politeness may not be something most would associate with Vegeta (in fact, he was willing to be the mere notion would have those who 'knew' him doubling over in amusement), but in spite of his supposedly fiendish ways, he was still a prince. A prince who was brought up to carry himself as regally as he was ruthless before the planet he was supposed to one day rule was destroyed.

Letting Vegeta live here is many things, but easy is hardly one of them. Back when she and Yamacha were still seeing one another he gave her a hard time constantly for letting the saiyan prince live here. But if they were going to defeat the androids they would need Vegeta's help. And beyond that?

Well honestly she felt kind of bad for Vegeta. It has to be lonely, being the last of his own kind. Sure, there's Goku but he doesn't really see himself as a saiyan. She can't imagine how alone he must feel sometimes. So if she can give a place to stay, that's something right? A reminder that he isn't alone -- though he probably doesn't care either way.

"Eating raw pork or ham can be dangerous -- you have a much higher rate of getting sick from it." She pauses as she considers something for a moment, tilting her head. "Though I suppose with a Saiyan immune system that might not be as much of a concern for you."

His only comment, which doubles as confirmation, is an indignant snort right before he takes another bite of the raw turkey leg he's currently in the process of devouring — but he's doing so slowly. Eating at a 'human' pace wasn't what Saiyans normally did, and he'd never seen Kakarot bother to do so, but unlike that low level son of a grunt, Vegeta was a prince. He didn't always show it, but he had manners and he knew how to use them, he was just highly selective about where and when he chose to use them.

There were scorch marks on the side of her house from the damage the chamber sustained this morning, debris lying all over the yard, a hole in her bedroom wall from where he'd lashed out at her... The least he could do was chew with his mouth closed and eat like something other than the barbarian most believed him to be.

It's a little impressive, honestly, how eloquently he eats it. She's seen Goku eat a million times -- she knows how voracious a saiyan appetite can be but Vegeta takes his time. There's an elogance to it, almost.

Her friends would laugh at her if she ever mentioned it. Which is why she tends to keep these sort of observations to herself.

"Don't hold back on account of me," She drawls dryly, breaking the silence that had built between them (almost all too comfortably, honestly).

Another snort, muffled by the food in his mouth. He waits until he's swallowed to tell her, "I'm not," in an almost offended tone, as if she's just wrongly accused him of murder.

The truth, however, is that he is. He's taking his time and not talking with his mouthful out of respect for this infuriating, weak human female that's chosen to perch herself at his side like she's worthy of being in his presence.

He doesn't know which is more frustrating: the fact that she does it, or that he allows it like she's earned the right to sit next to the Prince of all Saiyans in spite of being a weakling human.

"Of course you aren't."

Except she knows that he is. Why he is, she couldn't say. Maybe he finally realized that a genius such as herself deserved a little respect, whether she was human or not.

...Probably not, but a girl can dream, can't she?

Besides, if he voiced those thoughts she would tell him this is her home and she'll sit wherever she damn well pleases.

"You give yourself far too much credit."

And then, as if to prove that he was still as much of a brute under those layers of royal etiquette he was showing her — did she even realize how important it was that he was actually behaving himself around her? — Vegeta snatches the beer bottle out of her hand. He takes a drink of himself, not seeming to care that she drank out of it first, and puts it back in her hand.

"Humans. You're such an arrogant species."

"You say that like I'm just any human," She says rather flippantly, frowning a little at the way he had just taken her drink like that. Rude, Vegeta.

Rude.

"But I'm not. I'm a genius. And this is my home so if anybody deserves some special treatment, it would be me." She snorts a little, taking another drink from her beer, seemingly having gotten over him drinking from it.

"Besides, you're the most arrogant person I know." She pauses. "Sorry. Saiyan."

"Oh, and Kakarot isn't arrogant? He overestimates himself more often than not." Begrudgingly, Vegeta fails to acknowledge the fact that Goku tends to succeed, even when he fails. "When he speaks, he speaks in terms of maybe. He gets lucky. I, on the other hand, speak in terms of absolute certainty. I will become a Super Saiyan."

He takes another bite of the pork, chewing it just as slowly, just as human-like as before in spite of his ire.

"Once you fix the chamber, of course." (Once he stops bleeding on her couch, too.)

Edited (forgot what he was eating, oops) 2014-12-29 04:05 (UTC)

"I never said you wouldn't." Maybe some people believed he wouldn't but honestly? Bulma things that kind of determination tends to have results. It might not be easy, but he'll do it. Not that she says any of that out loud. It's not like he's looking for her to believe in him.

"Of course." There's a beat and then. "You know it's going to be a bitch to get these stains out of the couch."

Vegeta leans forward, twisting his head around as far as it'll go in attempt to peer over his shoulder at the offending spot on his back. He can't quite see it, but now that he's paying attention to it, he can feel the trickle of blood leaving a wet trail along his spine.

He shoots her a huffy annoyed look. "You'll forgive me for not putting it back in."

"It wouldn't be so bad if you let me bandage you up more often."

But most of the time he insists against it. Saiyans heal so fast it doesn't matter. Well it matters to her poor stained couch.

Vegeta rolls his eyes. Honestly. He appreciated nice, clean things, but it's been a long, long time since he's had the time to appreciate them, nevermind have them in his possession. Having access to the advanced technologies that Frieza allowed himself, Nappa, and Raditz didn't necessarily mean they were the best or the nicest. In fact, they were often what happened to work well enough to get the job done, things that were discarded and given to the last of the 'filthy monkeys' Frieza had kept alive when he destroyed their planet.

"If you must."

Setting the pan the pork had been on aside, Vegeta leans forward, bracing himself with his arms on his knees. He casts her an impatient, sideways glance.

"Well? I don't have all day."

Edited 2015-01-01 00:16 (UTC)

She couldn't of heard him right. Which is why she hasn't moved to get any supplies just yet. Did he just -- he never agrees to anything that easily. Just when she thinks she has him figured out he throws her a curveball. She never knows what to make him.

At the impatient tone she huffs a little before downing the last of her beer and then getting up.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep his Royal Highness waiting."

She disappears only to come back with bandages and other supplies. She sits down next to him before pouring some peroxine on cotton.

"I have to clean them first. It's going to sting."

He's still in the same position when she returns, hunched over his knees on the edge of the couch, muscled back bared for her to tend to.

"Just do it whatever it is you intend on doing."

Honestly. His tolerance for pain was through the roof. Although... It probably would sting, because Vegeta was keeping his ki low so that she'd be able to tend to his wound without his body going battle ready. Bleeding or cut open or not, Vegeta's skin would have about as much give as a rock to her human hands if he kept his power level up. In truth, keeping it down was taking a great deal of concentration.

She humps a little before she begins to bend down and work on cleaning up his wounds. Can Saiyans even get infections? She doesn't really know but it seems like good to not to take any risks. It surprises her that he would trust her this much.

Especially considering he doesn't seem to trust anyone.

But soon enough she finishes cleaning them up and starts applying the bandages. At the very least it'll keep the blood from getting everywhere.

They can't, not really, but notice how he failed to tell her it wasn't necessary. Whether he's letting her carry on with such unnecessary things because it'll appears her or cater to some budding, begrudging acceptance of her presence is up in the air. But he's sucking in a sharp breath through clenched teeth when the antiseptic touches his wound and stings, just as she warned him it would.

He'll deny making the sound should she ever bring it up.

Curious, he turns his head watch her as she applies bandages to the wounds on his back. She went from hotheaded and brash to gentle and caring at the drop of a hat.

Fascinating. (So fascinating, that he forgets he's staring.)

She smirks a little as he hisses at the sting. "I told you it would hurt." No, she can't resist the urge to tell him "I told you so" but at least it's mostly in good humor. Mostly.

It surprises her what a good patient he's being. Even more when he turns his head to watch her. Although Bulma is no fighter herself she's spent enough years around them to learn how to patch things up pretty well.

Eventually, the staring gets to her a little and she speaks again. "What? Am I not doing it to your liking or something?"

She never knows how quite to read him. (Maybe that's part of why she likes to push his buttons, to see how he might react).

"No," he answers. "Were you doing anything I disapproved of, you would know it."

She wouldn't be this close to him. Allowing her to get within close proximity to him with his guard down (literally, his ki would barely register on the senses of those trained to sense power levels) spoke volumes he wasn't sure she understood. Volumes he wasn't sure he wanted to her (or himself) to understand.

"Am I bothering you?"

She realizes he doesn't tend to trust easily. That much seems pretty obvious and she tries to respect it because from the little she knows, she guesses that makes sense.

"No. If you bothering me, you would know it." She parrots his own works back at him. And it's true. While she may not have the strength he does she tends to be very loud and opinionated when things bother her. She's never been one to bite her tongue.

He watches her carefully, as if she's a series of screens caught between transition slides about to change at any moment. Watching doesn't seem to give way to anything he's looking for however, and he relinquishes his staring with a sigh, resting his chin in his hands.

"You're perplexing."

"How am I perplexing?"

She's finishing up taping up the bandages. At the very least it'll keep from blood getting everywhere, if nothing else.

"There's a hole in your bedroom wall the size of my fist, yet you're taking the time to treat my injuries. It's contradictory. You ought to be withholding treatment."

Not that he needs it or is complaining, he's just confused. Vegeta has a hard time discerning what she wants from him, something he finds as frustrating as it is fascinating. It's been a long time since someone's been able to elude him with their intentions before -- or, perhaps, it's that he's never really encountered anyone who's shown him any measure of real kindness. It's baffling.

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