Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Four Days Until Christmas

“Vegeta, you have to understand– we only get one chance a year. You might be the final piece of the puzzle if you would just say more than two words.”

“I’ve told the cops everything a thousand fucking times for twenty fucking years. There’s nothing else to tell.”

“See, that’s the part I don’t believe. You’re the only one that’s ever gotten away. How does a ten-year-old survive? You gave a generic witness statement and turned into a moody recluse. What did you see that night?” 

“I saw Freeza murder my parents, my brother, my cousin, and a family friend. I hid. He didn’t see me. The end.” 

Bulma slammed her fist on the table. This guy was so fucking infuriating. He’d repeated the same thing one hundred different ways, never once giving a single detail more. And judging by the report, he wasn’t much different when he was ten. What ten-year-old calmly described the brutal murder of his entire family like it was nothing more than your average family Christmas? That’s why Bulma knew there had to be more. There had to be something Vegeta hadn’t told anyone. That’s why she was assigned to Freeza’s investigation this year. She was good at getting people to talk and everyone goddamn knew it.

“Come the fuck on, Vegeta. You and I both know you’ve been up to some fucked up shit lately.”

“I thought I was below your pay grade.” He raised his eyebrows, his impassiveness breaking momentarily. 

“You absolutely are, when it’s not related to my case. But my pay grade is high enough to make your reckless driving tickets and simple assault bar fight charges disappear if you give me the right information.” This was going to work. This asshole was pretty close to losing his driver’s license and paying some seriously hefty fines. She’d seen where he lived and worked- there was no way he could afford it. 

“Woman, it was twenty years ago. I’m sorry you’re too incompetent to catch a man who has murdered twenty-some people, but that’s not on me. I don’t know what you’re after.” He crossed his arms across his chest, tipping back in his chair like a petulant high schooler. 

Why did the only survivor have to be such a total fucking dick?

“Tell me every detail. What was Freeza wearing that night, what did he say? Just give me everything, even if you think it’s unimportant.”

“Get me coffee and a sandwich first. I’m starving thanks to how long you kept me waiting this morning.” 

The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she was hungry, too. She had skipped breakfast, though there was no shortage of caffeine coursing its way through her veins. 

“I’ll take you somewhere for lunch if you say a minimum of one hundred words. If you make it to two hundred, I’ll pay. Come on, homeboy.” She smirked when he rolled his eyes at her. 

Bulma led him out the back of the police station to her personal car. 

“After bragging about me being beneath your pay grade, I thought you would have a nicer car than this,” Vegeta said, getting in the passenger seat. Her car wasn’t anything flashy, just an affordable silver sedan. 

“Just because I don’t own a sports car doesn’t mean I can’t afford one.” It was true enough; she could afford one if she really saved and maybe stopped eating for a month. Her job paid well enough, but it had taken her a while to adjust to the middle-class lifestyle it afforded. After growing up extremely wealthy, she’d set out to create her path, leaving her inheritance behind. There was a steep learning curve of what exactly she could spend her salary on for the first year or two.  

Vegeta didn’t respond as she drove toward her favorite chain sandwich shop. She didn’t feel comfortable taking Vegeta anywhere fancier in his worn, faded jeans, black hoodie that featured a few bleach stains, and ratty Converse. Plus, it was only a two-minute drive away, saving her from a potentially awkward car ride.

Like she feared, the short ride was completely silent. When they arrived, Bulma ordered at a kiosk, moving aside to allow Vegeta to order also. She never intended to make him pay; she doubted he could afford anything more than the dollar menu at McDonalds. 

They sat down together, waiting for their order to be brought to their table. Even in this mediocre chain, he looked out of place. It was clear he knew it, too. His hands fidgeted where they were folded across the wooden table. His fingernails were worn down, but it looked like it was from more than just manual labor. Her assumption was proven correct when he began picking at his nails anxiously. 

“I already paid, so you owe me two hundred words.” 

“I never agreed to that. It’s not my fault you were stupid enough to pay in advance.” 

Bulma resisted the urge to roll her eyes, deciding instead to get straight to the point and not prolong both of their suffering.

“We know Freeza strikes on Christmas morning. We know he goes after families. But that’s the only real pattern we can find. It’s less than a week until Christmas, so I’m running out of time. Why was he quiet for some years but not others?” Bulma was just thinking out loud at this point, but with the intention that something she said would be enough to get Vegeta to remember some small detail.

“Congratulations, detective. You spit out every newspaper headline I’ve ever seen about Freeza. Glad the detectives and the press have the same amount of information.” Vegeta’s arms were crossed over his chest again. Defensive? Or maybe insecure?

A waitress came by, setting their meals on the table. Despite his complaints of hunger, Vegeta went for the black coffee he ordered first. Bulma sipped her iced latte once before grabbing a handful of sugar packets off the table and adding them in. Vegeta watched her, his lip curling with distaste. 

“I would have a chance at knowing more than the press if you did anything other than insult me.” She tasted her latte again, much happier with it despite the chunks of granulated sugar that now accompanied every sip. 

“I’m not going to rattle off the story for the millionth time. Ask a real question and I’ll make some attempt to answer it.” Vegeta took a gigantic bite of the sandwich he ordered. It was some gargantuan creation filled with roast beef and smothered in cheese. 

Bulma wracked her brain. If this was how he wanted to play, she’d play along. Except it was very hard to ask questions when she didn’t even know what she was looking for. She took a bite of her salad as she thought, secretly wishing for a bite of whatever Vegeta was eating.

“Tell me again how you escaped. Freeza knew there were kids in the house. How did he not realize he left one alive?” 

“My cousin Raditz was at my house for Christmas. We were about the same age. Probably thought Raditz was me. I hid in a closet and watched through the slatted wood on the doors until I knew Freeza was gone.”

“So you don’t think Freeza was tracking your family before the murders? He didn’t know what you looked like?”

“Raditz had a mane of hair down to his ass and stood a foot taller than me. We looked very different.” Vegeta had already inhaled more than half of his sandwich, but not a single crumb had gotten on him. Bulma picked a dressing-soaked piece of lettuce off of her tweed skirt, annoyedly wiping at the small stain. 

“So it stands to reason that Freeza has a way of selecting his victims that doesn’t involve seeing them first, at least not up close. And he’s killed seven families in the past twenty years that don’t seem to have all that much in common. The most recent family was a young couple with a toddler. How old was your brother again?”

Vegeta’s face darkened. It was the closest thing to an emotion she had seen up until now. “He was four.” 

“Sorry, Vegeta. I know it can’t be easy to talk about this.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just sick of hearing you talk.” His arms were pulled tighter over his chest.

God, she hated him. Never having to see him again might be more fulfilling than Freeza being discovered. She took a deep breath, setting aside the desire to throttle him.

“You said Freeza didn’t say anything? Not a single word? He had to have made some kind of sound.” 

“He was humming.” 

Bulma’s eyes widened. “What the fuck? You never thought to mention that before. How many different officers have questioned you, and that just never came up?”

“They’d only asked about what he’d said. He didn’t say anything.” 

“Holy shit. You’re a douchebag.” Vegeta smirked at her, and she was about ready to slap him across the mouth. “Was it something recognizable? A song or just random notes?”

“White Christmas.” 

Bulma flew out of her seat. That was it. That was what she needed. She grabbed her laptop from its bag, almost dropping it thanks to the combination of caffeine and adrenaline. Pulling up the file, she looked at every murder. Always on Christmas– that much she already knew. She cross-checked the dates with a weather database. Every year he killed, there had been snow on the ground on Christmas Day. The years without death were also the years without snow.

“What?” Vegeta asked, staring at her as she frantically typed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bulma muttered, double-checking the data before she celebrated the discovery. 

“That’s the opposite of what you’ve been telling me for the past hour. Make up your damn mind.”

Everything matched up perfectly. Even better (or worse depending on how the situation played out) was the fact that the current forecast predicted snow throughout the upcoming week.

“Thank fucking god I probably never have to see you again. It’s snow, Vegeta. He kills when it snows on Christmas.” 

“He used the snow.” Vegeta’s impassivity cracked again.

“Yeah, I know.” Bulma grimaced. Vegeta’s family had been found in their backyard, each positioned in the snow like some sort of twisted snow angel.

“You still don’t know how he chooses his victims. There are two million people in the city. Are you just going to assign a cop to every family to make sure he doesn’t kill them?” 

Bulma paused. Vegeta was right, but she wouldn’t allow his sour outlook to take away from the biggest breakthrough on the case in years. “Tell me about your parents again. Your father was doing some important shit, right?”

“My father was the CEO of Saiyan Enterprises. My mother did not work.” 

“So you were well off?” 

“Financially, yes.”

“What do you mean by that? You had money, but what?”

“My father wasn’t home often.” Vegeta didn’t make eye contact, instead busying himself with the napkin in his hand. It was subtle, but she noticed a change in the tone of his voice. She had a feeling if she pushed any further in this direction, the conversation would end very quickly.

“Were you having a Christmas party? Is that why you had relatives over?”

“Raditz was staying with us. My mother invited him to spend Christmas with us. Nappa was always around. He worked with my father.” Vegeta stood suddenly, zipping up his hoodie. “I need to get to work. I’m going to be late.” 

Bulma knew she had pushed too far. She’d watched all the recordings of the interviews with Vegeta- he was not a talker.  She considered herself lucky for making it this far without pissing him off. When he was ten, he flipped over a table after screaming at the detective for asking ‘too many bullshit questions.’ Despite having to deal with Vegeta, she was beyond thrilled that she had gotten new information. 

“Okay, I’ll drive you back to your car.” Bulma pulled on her blazer as she stood, noticing with disdain that the oily dressing had stained her skirt. She began to dab at it with a wet napkin, but Vegeta was already out the door, impatiently standing beside her car.

“Christ, this guy,” she muttered. She followed him outside; her skirt was a lost cause anyway.

The drive back to the station was just as silent as the drive there, and Bulma decided it was best to keep it that way. She pulled up alongside Vegeta’s beat-up car. She wasn’t even sure if she could describe it as a car. It was more like an amalgamation of fifteen different cars that someone had pieced together to form the Frankenstein’s Monster of vehicles. 

Bulma’s car hadn’t even come to a complete stop before Vegeta flung open the door and jumped out.

“Wait!” Bulma said, pulling her business card from the messy center console of her car. “Take this, just in case you think of anything else.” 

Vegeta took it between his thumb and index finger, looking at it like she had handed him rotten garbage. “Unnecessary,” he muttered, tucking it into the pocket of his jeans anyway.

He shut the car door behind him before unlocking his car and getting in. Bulma didn’t bother to watch him leave, already lost in thought about Freeza’s case. How on earth was she going to identify his victim in advance if this was going to be the year that he struck? There had to be something that connected all of his victims. He was too organized of a killer to not have a goal, a reason to kill. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud grinding of Vegeta’s car’s starter. 

“Piece of shit!” she heard Vegeta yell. 

She turned around in time to see him punch his steering wheel.  There was the temper she had been prepared for. 

“Need a ride?” she smirked, tapping her knuckles against the window playfully. It seemed like he was a lot more bark than bite. At least she hoped he was.

He turned his head, and she noticed the sneer on his face. “Fuck off.”

He opened the door, almost knocking her over with it, and flung open the hood of the car. Bulma leaned against the building, watching Vegeta’s flustered attempts at mechanical repair. It would have been obvious to even the least mechanical-minded person that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. 

“Like I asked before, need a ride? You said you were going to be late for work.”

“I lied. Got fired last week. Just wanted to get away from you,” he growled.

“Well, then I guess I can drive you home, asshole. Or if you really want to get away from me, I can have Goku drive you home.” 

“Fuck!” Vegeta yelled, kicking his front tire. “Fine, take me home. I’m not getting in a vehicle with that idiot.”

“I’m sure he’d let you ride in the front seat this time,” Bulma laughed, getting back into her car. “And maybe even forego the handcuffs if you asked nicely enough.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious. And beautiful. And don’t forget kind. I could have your car towed, but I’m not going to.” Bulma plugged Vegeta’s address into her phone’s GPS. She had it memorized, having looked over the case just a few too many times. Unfortunately, this was a much longer car ride. There was no way that she could spend close to an hour in silence. 

“How’d you get fired this time?” she asked. 

“None of your business.” 

“Isn’t part of the little deal Goku cut with you that you have to maintain steady employment? Technically, it is my business.” 

“Insufferable woman,” he muttered under his breath. “The guy Goku had me working for was a fucking creep. I caught him spying on women in the locker room and I punched him.”

“Huh. Maybe not the best way to handle it, but pretty noble of you, I guess." 

Vegeta didn’t respond, choosing instead to stare out the window.

“Well, I won’t tell Goku if you talk through some of this case with me. I should be at my desk comparing notes right now.” 

“Whatever, but I’m not answering any more questions.” 

“Your family was Freeza’s second set of victims. The family he killed before yours was a single mom with two kids. The father had died two years before that in a car accident. After your family, he killed a perfectly normal blue-collar working family. Mom, dad, and three kids. After that, a young couple with a baby. Then a middle class family with two kids. Last year, he killed a single dad and his son.” 

“And nothing connects any of them. It’s fucking random. Give it up. You’re not going to find a pattern because there isn’t one.” 

“I just don’t think that’s true. But if there really isn’t a pattern, we have to figure out how he chooses his victims.” 

“Or figure out who the fuck he is.” 

Bulma hummed in thought. Every other angle felt pretty hopeless, but so did figuring out Freeza’s identity. No evidence had been left at any of the crime scenes; he was excellent at covering his tracks. And the only person who had ever seen him sat beside her. 

“Did the sketch artist do a good job?” Bulma asked, remembering the sketch she had seen. There wasn’t much to go on, as he was wearing a mask. 

“No,” Vegeta said. He began digging through her glove compartment.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Vegeta straightened his back, holding a pen and notebook in his hand. “You have so much random shit in here. I knew you’d have a pen and paper.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Hold on for a fucking second.” 

Bulma shut her mouth when she realized Vegeta had begun drawing. Was he drawing Freeza from memory? She let him work in silence for a few minutes. When he looked up at her, his portrait finished, she was so shocked that she pulled the car over to be able to take in every detail.

“Holy fuck, Vegeta. That’s amazing.” Bulma eyed his drawing. It was a million times more detailed than the composite sketch. 

“I told you the other sketch was shit.” 

“If you weren’t so unbearable to be around, I would consider giving you a job.” She took the paper from him, eyeing the details that Vegeta had managed to bring to life. “God, if only you had seen his face, we would have him in moments with a drawing this detailed.” 

“He had long fingers. They almost looked alien.”

“Can I keep this?” Bulma asked.

“That was kind of the point. I don’t fucking need it.”

Bulma took one last look at the drawing before tucking it into a folder and pulling back onto the road.

“Where did you learn to draw like that?”

“Just can,” he said with a shrug. Out of the corner of her eye, she detected a hint of a blush on his face.

“What do you plan on doing about your car?” she asked.

“No fucking clue.”

“Listen, you helped me out a lot today. My ex is a mechanic. I’ll call him and see if he can look at it, okay?” Calling Yamcha wasn’t exactly on her to-do list for the week, but they’d broken it off on decent enough terms. She was pretty sure that he was desperate enough to get her back that he would fix Vegeta’s car for free if she asked him to. 

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

Bulma rolled her window down slightly, shivering as the cold night area permeated her warm car. She lit a cigarette. Vegeta grimaced. “Want one?” she offered. 

“No,” he said, nose still wrinkled at her. 

What a weird fucking guy. Anti-social, full of rage, ready to punch someone at a moment’s notice, definitely carrying around some trauma, but disgusted by a cigarette. She wasn’t sure who was the more intriguing mystery- Vegeta or Freeza. 

Bulma finished her cigarette and turned up the radio.

---

"He's a weird guy, Goku," Bulma commented when she returned to the station.

"I dunno. There's something about him, though. Sometimes I feel like it's just some tough guy act." Goku walked over to her, coming to sit on the edge of her desk. "Seeing your whole family die like that has to do some permanent damage." 

Bulma knew he was right, but Vegeta had just spent the last three hours doing everything he could to get under her skin. "He still doesn't have to be such a giant dick. He thinks way to highly of himself for a guy who can't even hold down a job."

"You know he's been working at Roshi's gym. I think he'll be good at that! He spends half his time there anyway." 

Bulma cringed. Did it really matter that she promised Vegeta not to tell Goku about him being fired? No, it didn't- Roshi would tell Goku, anyway. "He got fired."

Goku shook his head. "Damn, I thought I had a good plan!"

"Don't go arresting him again. Even if it was like pulling teeth, I did get some information today that's helpful."

"You got him to talk to you?"

"I fed him and drove him home when his car broke down. He was a captive audience," she laughed. "Turns out every time he strikes, there's snow on the ground. Confirmed the pattern."

"That's awesome, Bulma!" Goku beamed. "That's the biggest break that's happened in a long time."

"Let's hope so because I still have no clue where to look for him. And I have to go back in the morning to get His Grumpiness. Yamcha's going to look at his car in the morning." Bulma grimaced, thinking of how many insufferable men she was going to have to interact with at once. 

"I bet Vegeta appreciates you helping him. He's not used to it; he's got no one." 

"Well, that's his own fault. People would probably like him a lot more if he didn't insult them or punch them in the face." 

Chapter Text

Three Days Until Christmas

“Thanks for doing this, Yamcha. I don’t know what is up with this guy, but I know he’s the key to solving the case. I’m trying to keep on his good side, even if he’s a total asshole.”

Yamcha smeared grease across his brow as he looked up from Vegeta’s car. She felt a little guilty, using him like this. Every time she spoke to him, she knew he got his hopes up that she was finally planning on getting back together. But definitely not guilty enough to not use him.  

“It’s no problem, B,” Yamcha smiled. “Luckily it was a pretty easy fix this time. But this car is a death trap if I’ve ever seen one. He needs to get rid of it.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell him that. As long as it runs again, he’ll be happy. Or as happy as a weirdo like him can be.”

Yamcha shut the hood and smiled at her. And it was that smile that made her break up with him in the first place. So desperate to please her, he would have changed his whole personality if it meant making her happy. Another girl may have swooned over that, but it wasn’t what she wanted in a relationship. She wanted a man who could go toe-to-toe with her, who had a personality as strong as her own. Now, she needed to get away from him before he got the wrong idea. 

“What do I owe you?”

“You know I wouldn’t charge you. Even if I am fixing ‘some weirdo’s’ car.” Even with, no, especially with, grease smeared across his face, he was strikingly handsome. 

Maybe she could at least get laid? Would that be super problematic? She shook the thought out of her head. She wasn’t going to use Yamcha twice in one day, even if she hadn’t had sex in close to three months. 

“Thanks, Yamcha. I owe you one. I’ve got to run, though. I’ve got to pick up Vegeta and bring him back to his car.”

Yamcha looked disappointed for a fleeting moment but quickly plastered on his happy-go-lucky smile. “Alright, B. I’ll see you around.” 

Bulma got into her car and yawned as she turned over the key. She’d barely gotten any sleep the night before. Reviewing Freeza’s file had been the start of her insomnia, but Vegeta was a major contributing factor. She hated his guts for making her job harder than it had to be, but there was something about him that caught her interest. He was an absolute puzzle of a human being, and she was pretty sure at least five pieces of that puzzle were missing. His life had been insanely difficult and still was. He’d spent his adolescence in group homes, getting into fights at school, and eventually dropping out and getting his GED. Anyone would have a hard time adjusting to life after seeing the things he saw. Goku had arrested the guy half a dozen times for petty crimes but had a soft spot for him, and now Bulma understood why. Truthfully, Goku had a soft spot for just about anyone committing a crime. It’s why he was still stuck patrolling the streets and issuing traffic citations despite being on the force for almost ten years. However, Bulma knew Goku could be fearsome if he was pushed past his limits. It’s why she always chose him as her backup.

Blinking, Bulma realized she was almost to Vegeta’s house. Falling victim to highway hypnosis wasn’t a good look for a detective. She rifled through her bag in the passenger seat, pulling out some disgusting sugar-free energy drink. Between the lack of sleep and the apparent lack of focus, she needed it. Nothing but her A-game would be enough around Vegeta. 

She pulled into the driveway of his home. Despite living in evident poverty, his yard was impeccably neat. She had a feeling his tiny house would be spotless, though she doubted he would ever let her in. Before she could get out of the car, Vegeta was already locking the door behind him. He was dressed a little better than yesterday- this time wearing boots, khaki pants, and a blue and black flannel. It was cold enough to warrant a heavy coat, which left her wondering if he could afford one or simply didn’t want to wear one as some stupid show of masculinity. 

“Good morning!” Bulma smiled as he sat beside her. Maybe a little cheerfulness would rub off on him.

He grunted what might have been a ‘good morning’ in return, though it was hard to tell. He held a dented thermos of coffee in his hand, sipping from it after he buckled his seat belt. 

“Not a morning person?” Bulma asked. She wasn’t one to talk, but at least she acknowledged people who spoke to her.

“Not a conversation person.” 

Bulma let out a huff as she backed out of his driveway, preparing for another uncomfortable drive with this man in her car. She hoped to whatever god might be listening that it was the last time she was alone with him. It was rare for her to be at a loss for words, but she wasn’t going to waste her breath on a rude man who had no interest in conversing with her. 

A few moments of silence passed as she drove.

“I’m going to swing by the bank on the way to the station before I drop you off. It’s on the way and I don’t feel like backtracking later.” Apparently, she couldn’t shut the fuck up.

Vegeta nodded, pulling what may have been the oldest cellphone to still function out of his pocket.

“Holy shit. Is that like the first generation of that phone?” she asked. Okay, she really didn’t know how to shut the fuck up. What was possessing her to keep fucking talking?

Vegeta scrolled without responding, and Bulma was surprised the thing was capable of anything outside of phone calls and Snake. 

“Yamcha fixed your car for free. He said it was a really easy fix. He had it done before he even went to work this morning.” 

Vegeta looked up, glaring at her like she had just told him that his mug of coffee was actually filled with arsenic. But then she saw the twitch of his fingers as they wrung together. He was anxious. Maybe embarrassed that he couldn’t fix it himself?

“Yamcha’s a really good mechanic. I think he downplays how difficult some things actually are. He did have to bring some parts, too.” She was losing her mind. Who the hell goes out of their way to reassure someone who can’t say ‘good morning’ back?

Vegeta’s face didn’t drop the scowl, but he turned back to his phone. His hands stopped fidgeting, too. Then, a tiny release of tension in his jaw.

Huh…

Reading body language was part of her job and something she couldn’t seem to turn off no matter what the social situation. He was just an insecure guy, trying to mask all kinds of trauma. She wondered if anyone ever tried to return his biting words with kindness and break down his walls. She imagined Goku had tried, but Goku also had arrested Vegeta, so that kindness didn’t get him anywhere. 

She’d dealt with traumatized victims before, but purely on a professional level. And this was professional, she reminded herself. Even if she was doing him a personal favor. A personal favor that could help solve a twenty-year-old murder case. This was still purely a business transaction. There was no need to get him to be friendly with her.

“So what are your plans for Christmas?” Was verbal diarrhea a fucking side-effect of too many energy drinks? It had to be because there was no way she would fucking choose to continue an extremely one-sided conversation. 

“Nothing.” A glimmer in his eye that she would interpret as sadness if she had thought him capable of it.

“Not even a movie? Or a bottle of whiskey in front of the fireplace? I know it’s not a good day for you, but I can’t imagine that it’s easy to get through it without some sort of plan. A memorial for your family maybe?” 

“I have no reason to celebrate and nothing left to mourn. It’s just another day on the calendar.”

“Well, you’re unemployed now, so do you just plan on sitting around doing nothing all day?” 

Vegeta didn’t answer, returning his attention to his prehistoric cellphone. Bulma decided not to press any further- she had already poked the bear and survived. There was no need to antagonize him past his breaking point again. Hopefully, she could just get her neverending stream-of-consciousness mouth to agree.

Snow flurries began to fall from the sky. Bulma usually loved the snow, but now it caused a knot to form in her stomach. It felt like a horrible premonition of what was to come, despite the picturesque scene it was creating.

She slowed in front of the bank, adjusting her driving as the snow began sticking to the road in front of her. 

“I’ll be right back,” Bulma said.

Bulma pulled open the heavy glass door of the old brick building before quickly tucking her hands into her pockets. It was far too cold out. 

She rummaged through her purse, locating the check, and signing the back of it at the counter. It was a gift from her parents. Slightly too generous of a gift, but it’s not like they couldn’t afford it. Still, she had come this far on her own and wasn’t too fond of accepting their charity. This wasn’t charity, though- it was just a Christmas gift. 

“Good morning,” the teller greeted Bulma as she approached them. 

Bulma smiled politely as she set the check down. 

A short, thin man walked behind the tellers, a manager she assumed, but something about him gave her the creeps. The teller waved him over, and Bulma guessed it was due to the very large number written on the check.

“Do you have ID, ma’am?” he asked. His voice didn’t help her unfounded opinion of him. It was shrill and cold. She shivered again as she pulled her driver’s license from her wallet. 

The man grabbed it with his long, skeletal fingers, taking it and the check. 

Bulma tapped on the counter, suddenly feeling very anxious. 

The manager stood at his computer, typing. Bulma pulled out her phone, intending to send Goku a message to let him know she was almost back at the station. She was ripped from her texts when she heard the man begin to hum. 

White Christmas.

He was fucking humming White Christmas . Bulma’s fingers flew to her camera app, recording a video of him as discreetly as she could. She shoved her phone into her pocket the second he turned around, not bothering to risk stopping the recording.

“You are all set, Ms. Briefs. The check should clear after a five-day hold.”

Bulma nodded, feeling too shaky to trust her voice. She grabbed her ID and walked out the door, almost crashing into the glass as she struggled to open it. Once inside the safety of her car, she let out an unsteady breath.

Vegeta was looking at her quizzically, his eyes narrowed. 

“Vegeta, I need you to watch this video,” she said, struggling to extract her phone from her pocket.

Finally, she was able to pull it out, her hands shaking. It was still recording, but she stopped it and quickly scrolled to the start of the video. The bank manager was barely in the frame, but you could see his hands typing on the computer as he hummed.

Vegeta turned a ghostly shade of pale. For a moment, Bulma was sure he would faint. Once he managed to take a breath, his face contorted in rage.

“He’s in there?” he growled with a ferocity that Bulma hadn’t realized a human could possess. 

Bulma nodded. “Is that him, Vegeta? Is that Freeza?”

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Vegeta reached for the door handle, but Bulma was quick. She grabbed the sleeve of his flannel in her hand, stopping him.

“Don’t you dare, Vegeta! We have to prove it. If you just go in there and murder him in broad daylight, you’ll be the one I’ll have to arrest. We need to make a plan.”

Vegeta looked wholly unconvinced but didn’t try to make a break for it.

“I want to be involved.” This was the most intense she had ever seen him. It was honestly relieving to know that he wanted Freeza dead and that he cared about what had happened to his family. At the very least, it was easier to reassure herself that he wasn’t a psychopath. 

“Okay, that’s fair. But we do this my way. We’ll go to the station, let me talk it over with some co-workers and do a little research. But you can tag along, and maybe even help, okay?”

“Fine.” 

—-

“A stakeout, really? I know this guy is Freeza. Just fucking arrest him.” Vegeta was pacing the room while Bulma and Goku sat across from one another at the table. 

“Yeah, Vegeta, because I can just march up to a fucking judge and tell them, ‘Yep this guy hummed a song, definitely a serial killer, book him’. I’d lose my fucking job and Freeza would go free.” 

Goku laughed and looked between the two of them. “You two sure are getting along. I thought one of you would have killed the other after spending this long together.”

“Can we focus on an actual fucking plan, please?” Bulma groaned. “It’s three days until Christmas. If I tail him when he gets off work tonight, maybe I can establish some kind of pattern. See where he goes, if he’s making any plans. If you really want to be involved, Vegeta, I’ll bring you along. I want you to identify him in person anyway, not just off of a video on my phone. Goku, I want you on standby. If I call, you come running. We don’t know how dangerous Freeza could be if he knows we’re on to him.” 

Goku nodded. “So you plan on following him when he leaves the bank?” 

“Yeah, it’ll be the best way to get some information. I don’t want to ask around to find anything out about him. I’m not willing to risk someone tipping him off. There’s too much at stake. But find out what you can and let us know, okay?”

Vegeta made an impatient noise as he continued to pace. “He could already be gone. You don’t know his schedule. Stop sitting around with your thumbs shoved up your asses!”

“It’s not even noon, Vegeta. Yes, we need to get a move on, but we’re not missing anything yet. We’re about to spend twelve hours or more watching the guy. I’m going to treasure every moment that I’m not stuck in a car with you. Plus, we need to get supplies.”

“It’s cold out,” Goku added. “Do you have a coat with you, Vegeta?” 

“It’s not even cold. You’re just weak.” 

“Okay!” Bulma interjected. “Vegeta we’re stopping at the store. We’ll get some food and drinks and a goddamn coat for you. I’m not going to listen to you bitch if we have to turn the car off and sit in the cold.”

Vegeta turned on his heel, too impatient to wait for the conversation to come to an end. 

Bulma looked at Goku, her eyes wide at the thought of the horrors she was about to endure.

“Good luck!” he called as she followed Vegeta outside. 

Vegeta was standing next to Bulma’s car, staring at it as if his sheer willpower alone was enough to unlock it and teleport them to Freeza. 

“Calm down, buddy. We’re not even taking my car. I’m going to grab an undercover that has some seriously tinted windows. We don’t want him seeing us.” Bulma led Vegeta toward a black car around the side of the station. “I think you might be familiar with this car?”

Vegeta glared at her, opening the door as soon as she unlocked it. 

“I don’t need a goddamn coat,” he muttered. 

“That’s great and all, but we’re getting you one anyway. It’s supposed to be below-freezing tonight. I doubt you’ve ever been on a stakeout before, but it’s going to be super boring and cold. We’re getting comfort snacks and warm clothes, and you’re not going to argue about it.” 

—

“Vegeta, what part of comfort snacks did you not understand? You grabbed a box of cheap ass granola bars. That is no one’s comfort.”

Bulma’s shopping cart looked like it was for a teen’s movie night, not for following a serial killer. She had grabbed a variety of candy, bags of chips, energy drinks, and soda. She had also picked out a coat for Vegeta without consulting him. 

He put them into the cart despite her protests.

“Do you want to get a veggie tray to go with that?” she teased.

“At least it would be better than filling up on pure sugar.” 

“This pure sugar will keep me awake for however long this shit takes.”  

After ten more arguments over the appropriate snacks for a stakeout, Bulma and Vegeta finally returned to the car with enough groceries to feed a small army. 

“Freeza will probably be gone with how long you spent gathering absolute nonsense,” Vegeta complained as Bulma navigated back to the bank. 

“You seriously need to pull the stick out of your ass. It’s wedged up there so far that I’m surprised it’s not sticking out of your mouth.” 

Vegeta’s face was suddenly beet red, his mouth opening and closing but no witty comeback making its way out. 

“Oh, did I just find a way to shut you up?” Bulma laughed. 

“You’re absolutely vulgar,” Vegeta mumbled, pulling his new coat tightly around his chest. 

Bulma let him sulk in silence until they neared the bank. “Alright, here’s the plan. I’m going to go in, make up some shit about needing to check the balance on my accounts to make sure he’s still there, and then we’ll park across the street to see when he leaves. He will probably go out the back door, but I want to be able to see both doors just in case, so we’ll figure out a good angle.” 

Vegeta had a curious look on his face; Bulma almost thought it was admiration but knew better than to think Vegeta would feel positively toward her. He was probably criticizing her plan, and the look on his face was the pleasure of coming up with whatever insult he would hurl at her next. 

“What?” she snapped, hoping to cut him off. “Is my plan not good enough for you, your highness?” 

“It’s fine,” he snapped, looking out the window.

“Glad you approve.” Vegeta had no right to judge her. He could barely keep down a job and she had more degrees than he could probably count. Where did he get off being so arrogant? Maybe that arrogance was inherited from his CEO father.

Bulma parked the car about two blocks away, just close enough that they had a clear view of the bank. She left him in the car with a final glare in his direction and sauntered away. Just as she predicted, Freeza was still there, stalking around behind the counter. 

Bulma tried to take in more details this time, now that she wasn’t so shocked to stumble across him at random. Each teller’s name was displayed on a placard in front of their station, but without a station, she had no way of determining Freeza’s actual name. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Bulma went up to a teller, not wanting to draw any suspicion, and checked the balance of her account before making a hasty exit. She did not want Freeza to be able to recognize her face if he were to see her again. 

“And just like I told you, I was right. Freeza’s still in there,” she announced as she got back into the car, trying not to look too smug. 

Vegeta grunted, once again consumed with his shitty phone. 

Bulma glanced at the time- it was only 2 o’clock. Assuming he stayed until close, that gave them three hours of absolutely nothing. Not wanting to spend the afternoon with Vegeta, she looked around at what she could kill some time doing. The bank was located near several storefronts that looked quite compelling. Though she was not usually the type to send more than a generic Christmas card to her family, this could be a great opportunity to do a bit of Christmas shopping. Maybe she could even pick up a gift or two for herself since she would undoubtedly be getting a very large raise after taking down Freeza. 

“I’m going to go shopping, put my number in your phone and call me if you see Freeza. I’ll stay close.” 

“Do you take anything seriously, for fuck’s sake?” Vegeta asked, shaking his head.

“I am taking this seriously, but I’m not going to stare at a door for three hours. I’ll be back the second you call or right before the bank closes, whichever comes first.” 

“And what if I wanted to go shopping?” 

“Right. Who do you have to shop for? Maybe an apology gift to that guy you gave a black eye to at the bar last week?” 

“What’s your number?” he barked, looking about as angry as he had when Goku brought him into the station on the night he gave that guy a black eye. Whoops, she might have struck a nerve there. Probably not the best idea to make fun of a guy for not having anyone to Christmas shop for when his entire family had been murdered. 

“Sorry,” she said quietly, looking out the window. “That was a little too mean.” 

“Your number?” he asked, voice cold. His fingers were poised over his phone, ready to type. 

Much to his chagrin, Bulma snatched his phone from his hands. She snorted when she saw the contact information he had already entered: Bitchy Detective. 

“Very creative,” she laughed, erasing Bitchy and replacing it with Beautiful before adding in her number. “Text me so I have your number, too. That is if your phone can text.” 

Vegeta grabbed his phone back and within a few seconds, hers buzzed with a notification. The text simply said Vegeta. Smirking, Bulma created a contact: Self-Important Asshole. She opened the car door, gave him a little wave, and took off in the direction of the shops. 

—

Bulma’s cell phone rang just as she had finished checking out at the third store on her excursion. She grabbed it quickly, checking the screen. 

‘Self-Important Asshole is calling’

“Is it go time?” she asked.

“He’s walking out the back door,” he said, tense impatience coloring his voice.

“Got it, be there in 30 seconds. If he starts to drive, check his license plate number. There should be a notepad in the glovebox.” 

“If he starts to drive before you get back, I’m jumping in the driver’s seat and following him. Hurry the fuck up.”

Bulma ended the call, running out of the store in a bluster. When she opened the door, she was hit in the face with sharp, biting wind. How long had she been in there that the weather had undertaken such a drastic change? It had been cold and a little snowy earlier, but this was brutal. She fought against the wind as quickly as she could, fuming at the fact that Vegeta would even consider leaving her outside in this weather. 

Thankfully, the car was still there. She quickly threw her shopping into the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat. 

“Took you fucking long enough,” he sneered before muttering something under his breath that sounded decidedly like ‘selfish bitch.’ 

“Insult me later. Where is he?” 

“He walked to the parking lot behind the building. He’s in the dark blue car.” 

Bulma scanned the lot, finding the car Vegeta was referring to. Thankfully, despite the wind, the snow was still very light and her vision wasn’t obstructed. 

“Okay. Listen to me carefully, Vegeta. I understand that you think you know everything, but I’m the expert right now. You do what I say so that this doesn’t get fucked up. This isn’t going to be some high-speed chase. The most important thing is that he doesn’t see us. That comes before losing him. You have to be realistic. We’ll write down the license plate number as soon as we see it. If we do lose him, we’ll call Goku and have him run the plates and hope all the information on his registration is correct.” 

Vegeta didn’t say anything but crossed his arms tightly. Bulma watched, ignoring Vegeta’s petulance so she could focus. Freeza backed out of his parking spot and turned right out of the parking lot. A right turn would most likely lead them toward the suburbs. That’s exactly what she wanted- him to head home. She did not need to be tailing him through the busy city, driving through last-minute Christmas shopping congestion. She waited a few seconds, letting him make it to a stoplight before pulling out. The impatience radiating off of Vegeta was palpable; he was going to make this very difficult. 

She put two cars between them as she followed Freeza out of the city. Eventually, both of those cars turned and she had a clear view of the license plate. 

“Write it down, Vegeta,” she said, taking the risk to get a little closer for a clearer view.

“Got it,” he said, sounding just as focused as she was. 

“Don’t get mad at me,” she warned before she turned down a side street. She had calculated this turn- it was the last turn-off for about a mile. A quick loop around and she would be back behind Freeza, more distance between them.

“Fucking idiot!” Vegeta screamed at her. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Every cell in her body wanted to stop the car, punch in his stupid fucking face, and shove him out of the car. As her blood boiled inside her, she forced herself to recognize that doing such would make her lose Freeza. Instead, she didn’t respond, though her grip on the steering wheel was dangerously tight. 

In under 30 seconds, they were back on the main road, about five cars between them and Freeza as Bulma sped to catch up. 

“Who's the fucking idiot now?” she screeched at him, willing to break her concentration now that they were on a straight stretch of road. “I fucking told you that I know what I’m doing. Speak to me like that again and I will fucking launch you out of this car no matter how fast I’m going.” 

Vegeta didn’t say anything, but Bulma detected a blush of embarrassment graze his cheeks. He better fucking feel embarrassed. 

Deciding it would be best to pretend Vegeta wasn’t even there, she turned on the car’s radio, blasting it just a touch louder than necessary. Vegeta grimaced but didn’t protest. Hopefully too ashamed to even comment. Not giving a single fuck what Vegeta might like in terms of music, Bulma played the most upbeat, dance club music she could find on a radio station. As they drove, she hummed along, occasionally dancing behind the wheel when she forgot Vegeta was with her. 

The sun was setting behind them, the early darkness of winter encroaching. Unfortunately, the light snow was more blinding on the dim roads outside the city.

“Shit,” Bulma muttered, turning down the dial on the radio slightly. “How far does this guy live?” 

When Vegeta made a noise next to her, Bulma jumped. 

“Fuck, I forgot you were here,” she laughed. 

“Were you planning on having a conversation with yourself, then?” 

“Oh please. Like you don’t talk to yourself alone in the car. Everyone does it.” She wasn’t entirely certain that was true, but she was willing to take the risk. She glanced at Vegeta, smirking.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he said. “It’s starting to snow harder. I’m not willing to risk my life because you’re too easily distracted.” 

Bulma rolled her eyes, but he was right. The snow was starting to come down and was making visualization hard. On a positive note, that would also make it harder for Freeza to see her. 

Bulma tapped a button on the steering wheel. “Call Goku.”

“I don’t know his freaking number. Why would I call that idiot?”

“Not you, stupid,” Bulma sighed as the car’s display showed a connecting phone call. 

“Hey, Bulma!” Goku’s cheery voice filled the car. “What’s up?”

Vegeta’s hand immediately went to the volume knob, but Bulma smacked it away with a glare.

“Hey, Goku. I need a little favor. I’ve been following Freeza for almost thirty minutes now. I have his license plate number. Can you run it for me and tell me the address? It’s snowing pretty hard and I’m afraid I might lose him.” 

“Of course, Bulma. I hope you’re being careful. Is Vegeta with you?”

“Yep, he’s going to read you the plate number. Go ahead, Vegeta.”

Vegeta looked like Bulma had just asked him to strip naked and dance for her. “514AYTR” 

“Got it!” Goku replied. “Give me two minutes.”

Vegeta’s fingers fiddled with the paper, the edges already frayed. Bulma couldn’t look for too long, her eyes back on the road as the snow was almost turning to white-out conditions. 

“Oh, you’re not going to like this, Bulma. How long did you say you were driving?” Goku asked.

“Half an hour. Why?”

“I couldn’t tell you why he works in West City. If this registration is correct he lives in Hullbeck. That’s at least two hours outside of West City.” 

“Hullbeck?” Bulma shrieked. “That’s the literal middle of nowhere. This is a nightmare. Okay, read the address out and Vegeta is going to write it down.”

Vegeta picked up the pen again as Goku read off an address. Bulma thanked him and hung up quickly so she could concentrate on driving. She was not a huge fan of driving in slippery weather when you could barely see an inch in front of you. But she wasn’t going to let Vegeta know that. The last thing she needed was to give him fuel for further torment. 

“Are you even allowed to arrest someone in Mullbeck?” Vegeta asked. “That’s got to be out of your jurisdiction.” 

“Oh, it absolutely is. But I don’t care. I’ll just make sure to arrest him in West City.” 

Vegeta's lips twisted into the beginnings of a smile before quickly correcting into his usual scowl. 

The music had begun to play again after the call disconnected, but Bulma turned it down this time, finding it too distracting. 

“Can you find another station?” she asked. “Something calm. This is going to be a long ass drive. I have a feeling it’s going to be close to three hours with this weather.” 

Vegeta pressed the search function on the radio, but Bulma had already zoned back into the road and was far too focused on not crashing and killing them both to even hear what he picked. They were far enough away from the city that streetlights were becoming sparse and trees were lining the road around them. Hardly any oncoming traffic had passed, as everyone else was probably too intelligent to be out driving. It was one of those evenings where it felt like it was the middle of the night, despite it only being a little after 5 pm. 

Bulma stayed focused, though she felt her heartbeat pounding a little too quickly in her chest. Freeza’s car was the only other one on the road now, which was far from ideal. However, another nail-biting hour of concentrated driving passed without incident. Vegeta was at least wise enough to stay silent. He must have valued his life enough to know that this was not the time to fuck with her.

“Vegeta,” she said quietly. “Can you grab me a snack from the back seat? I’ve barely eaten today. And an energy drink, too?”

Vegeta undid his seatbelt, twisting around to rifle through the bags in the backseat. “What do you want?” 

“A bag of chips, please.” 

Vegeta procured the chips and an energy drink. To her surprise, he opened the bag and can before placing them in the center console. 

“Thanks,” she smiled, genuinely shocked at the small display of kindness. 

“Don’t need you crashing the car because your weak hands couldn’t pull open a bag of chips.” 

“You know you don’t have to insult me, right? You can just be nice for two seconds. It won’t kill you, I promise.” Bulma took a large sip from her energy drink before digging into the bag of chips.

Vegeta turned around again, grabbing three granola bars and a bottle of water. He ate them one after the other like it was the only food he had had in weeks. Besides their lunch together the previous day, she wondered when he last ate. Fearing that a distracting argument would transpire if she asked him about it, she decided to remain quiet. 

“We’re getting close to Hullbeck,” Bulma mused after another silent stretch had passed. “I really hope I don’t lose him when he finally makes a turn. I need this storm to let up.” 

“We have his address if you do,” Vegeta said. 

“Hmm, just like I said when you decided to call me…what was it…? A stupid bitch.” 

Vegeta touched the display on the car, finding the navigation app and inputting the address. Only ten minutes away. 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling again because she knew it made him uncomfortable. 

This time, he didn’t have any comeback. 

As Bulma suspected, it became impossibly hard to follow Freeza down the unlit roads of Hullbeck. Hullbeck could barely be called a town- the houses were miles apart from each other, separated by either farms or dense patches of forest. And of course, Freeza’s house seemed to be very uphill. 

“He’s going to know I’m following him, even if he can’t see well,” Bulma lamented. “I’ve got no choice but to pull over. I’m going to find a gas station and then we’ll go to the address. It’s too suspicious.” 

Vegeta tapped at the navigation screen again, finding a nearby gas station on the map. “Does this work?” 

“Yeah. I need to get gas, anyway. I was not anticipating this long of a drive.” 

Bulma followed the GPS through the winding, mostly dirt roads until she reached the gas station. As she stepped out of the car, she kept her hand on the gun in her holster. This place had an awful vibe. She took in her surroundings, noting that there were only two other people here- a worker she could see behind the counter and an old man who sat at a table inside. 

“I’ve got to go inside to pay because it’s a business credit card,” Bulma told Vegeta, struggling to keep the door open as the wind blew fiercely against it. 

Vegeta stepped out of the car. “I need to use the bathroom,” he explained, stretching his arms above his head. His coat pulled up just enough to reveal a tiny slice of his muscular stomach. Which Bulma was absolutely not going to look at. 

The two walked inside, and Bulma was surprised at just how much useless stuff could be piled into a gas station. There were no other real stores in this area, so it must have served as a pit stop for locals and tourists alike. Hot dogs, pizza, and other assorted gas station food sat on heating elements behind the counter, and the aisles were densely packed with everything from toiletries to t-shirts proudly displaying the town name. 

Vegeta wandered to the back of the store after spotting the restroom sign, and Bulma decided she might as well do the same. After, went to the counter to pay for gas. The cashier seemed less than enthused to be working, though Bulma couldn’t blame him given the weather outside.

“Slow day?” Bulma asked, handing him her card.

“What do you want?” he asked, annoyed at her very existence. 

“Thirty dollars,” she said, nodding to the gas pumps.

“What pump? I’m not a mind reader.”

Vegeta appeared behind her. “The only goddamn car that’s here. Take her fucking card and do your job,” he growled. 

Bulma turned to look at him. Fuck, he was menacing, especially if you didn’t know him. The look in his eyes communicated that he would not hesitate to jump over the counter if this jerk said one more rude word. 

The cashier quickly ran Bulma’s card through the register and handed it back to her. “Have a nice night,” he said, his voice a bit shaky. 

Bulma's eyes were wide with surprise as Vegeta held the door open for her. What the hell was that? Apparently, he was the only one allowed to insult her? 

“I’ll pump it. Get in the car,” he said. 

Now that was something Bulma was not going to argue. It was frigid out and she was not a fan of the cold. She unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat, blowing hot breath on her hands which were freezing just from the short walk out of the store. After a few minutes, Vegeta climbed in next to her and shoved his hands deep inside the pockets of his new coat. 

“Ready?” Bulma asked, turning the key in the ignition. 

Vegeta nodded and she noticed the tip of his nose was red. She turned up the heat. The drive to Freeza’s house wasn’t far, but the conditions had deteriorated even more. The wind blew drifts of snow across the road and the roads somehow seemed even icier than they had been moments before. Bulma guessed it had to do with the climbing altitude. To make matters worse, the road leading to Freeza’s house seemed to be the steepest incline they had driven thus far.

“Turn the radio off,” Bulma said, after the car’s tires slipped for the second time. Vegeta pushed the button and sat forward in the seat, his eyes as glued to the road as Bulma’s were.

“Don’t kill us,” he said, and while it may have been an attempt at a barb, even his voice sounded a bit unnerved.

“Doing my best,” she said, her voice quiet.

She could not see the road. She could not see anything. It was pure instinct that guided her up the hill at barely a crawl. 

“We’re here,” Vegeta said, looking at the GPS. 

“Great, if only I could see where a house was.” 

“Hold on. Stop the car,” Vegeta said. She did and he hopped out, sprinting out of her sight. 

For some reason, losing his presence made her even more nervous. When Vegeta opened the door again, Bulma thought she was going to jump out of her skin. Fuck this scary, quiet, wooded road. 

“It’s straight ahead on the left. There is a long driveway and I see Freeza’s car in it. There is also a side road directly across the street from it. That might be the best place to hide.”

Bulma nodded. “Alright, we’ll park on the side street. It sucks that we won’t have a great view, but it’s so quiet here. We’ll hear his car pull out if he leaves. Now, how the hell am I supposed to even see this side street.” 

“Let me drive,” Vegeta said. “I know exactly where it is. It’s tiny as fuck and surrounded by woods. You’re going to miss it.” 

Bulma fucking hated to admit it, but he was probably right. She couldn’t see for shit and Vegeta had already scoped it out. However, it felt inappropriate to let a petty criminal drive an expensive undercover patrol car. 

“I can’t let you drive, Vegeta. The captain would hang me if he found out.” 

“And he’s not going to find out if you don’t tell him. Do you want to drive off the very rocky cliffside on this road that I also happened to see or do you want to park on a road?” 

“Fine,” she griped, getting out of the car to switch with him.

Vegeta smoothly steered them to the road he had seen, going a few feet down it before parking in a tiny alcove.

“Switch,” she demanded, not willing to let him spend a second longer than necessary in the driver’s seat.

He rolled his eyes but did as she asked. 

“What now?” he asked once they were settled.

“Now we turn off the car because this road is way too quiet to keep it running. And you thank me for buying you a coat and a bunch of blankets.” Bulma turned off the car, dreading how cold it was going to be in a matter of minutes. 

She reached into the backseat, pulling out a few blankets and tossing one to Vegeta. “You’re welcome,” she said sarcastically when he didn’t respond. 

Bulma pulled the blanket around herself and reclined her seat back a bit. The frigid wind was already licking at the windows of the car. This was going to fucking suck.

Chapter Text

Two Days Until Christmas

“Bulma, wake up.”

Bulma’s eyes flew open and she sat up quickly, looking around with panicked eyes. A few chocolate wrappers fell off of her lap.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“You told me to wake you up after an hour,” Vegeta said, amused at her frazzled state.

“Oh,” she said, her heart rate regulating. “Has it really been an hour?” 

She opened the visor and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was sticking out at odd angles and a bit of drool was caked to the side of her mouth. She wiped at her face with the corner of the blanket but decided her hair was a lost cause. 

“An hour and a half,” he responded. “It’s already after midnight.”

Bulma looked out the windshield. The snow had slowed, but it was still miserable out. However, she could now see Freeza’s house in the distance, the blue car they had followed for far too many miles parked on the sloped driveway.

“People always think stakeouts are so cool and daring, but this is all you do ninety percent of the time,” she yawned. “You sit and watch and nothing fucking happens.”

“He has to leave eventually,” Vegeta commented. “Or maybe we could sneak through his car when we’re sure he’s asleep.” 

“We could do that if we wanted every piece of evidence we find to be thrown out in court. I don’t have a warrant, Vegeta. I’m out here because a man at the bank hummed a song. Not exactly enough evidence.” 

“Then what’s the point?” Vegeta groaned.

“He has to leave eventually is the point. Whether that’s in the middle of the night tonight or tomorrow or even the next fucking day. He has to leave and we’ll know when he does and follow him.”

A gust of wind wobbled the car and reminded Bulma of just how freezing cold she had been before she’d fallen asleep. Unsurprisingly, she was just as cold now. She rubbed her hands along her arms before reaching for another energy drink.

Vegeta watched her open it. “Do you want one?” she asked. “Or are you just staring at me?” 

Bulma had a feeling his cheeks would have blushed again if he wasn’t already tinged pink from the bitter cold. “I have no reason to stare at you. I’m just shocked your heart hasn’t stopped from how many of those you’ve drank. And the fact that you managed to take a nap after drinking one.” 

“Well, do you want one or not?” 

“Yes.”

Bulma grabbed another and handed it to him. “I told you that you weren’t going to want granola bars and water for an all-nighter. How about some chips, too?”

He nodded, looking a bit resigned when Bulma handed him a bag. 

“I need to do something,” she said, the energy from her short nap sneaking up with her. “If I just sit here staring, all I am going to be able to think about is how cold I am. Get me that notebook, will you?” 

Vegeta handed her the notebook in which he had written the license plate number and address. 

“Xs or Os?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tic-tac-toe. Do you want to be Xs or Os?” 

“Xs,” he said, taking the paper from her after she had drawn the first O. “X is supposed to go first.”

“Well, too bad. I already went. Ladies first this time.”

—

After about fifteen games of tic-tac-toe and ten of hangman, Bulma couldn’t deny her raging boredom. She was not built to do nothing for this long. Vegeta seemed unperturbed by it and she had a feeling he could have sat in complete silence all night with no complaint. With a frustrated scream, she ripped the used paper out of the notebook.

“That was dramatic,” Vegeta laughed.

Vegeta laughed . She saw his teeth in the smile and everything. Holy shit. 

“I’m not good at being bored,” she said, deciding it was best not to comment on the rare display of happiness. 

“I don’t mind,” he said, staring out the window. 

Bulma tried to slow down her racing thoughts for a moment to see what Vegeta was seeing. Moonlight poured over the snow, which had now slowed to flurries once again. There had to be at least a foot on the ground and the top layer was sparkling with the reflected light. The sky was clearing, with only a few clouds from the storm remaining. Stars were shining brightly.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reopened them, letting some of the magic outside take hold of her.

The dead of night always brought about something strange in Bulma. The world felt different, electrically charged. And a beautiful night like this magnified that feeling in her. It was like she was floating in her own body, allowed to be introspective and emotional to contrast with the brash attitude she had to have as a woman on the police force. And now, whatever that magic was made her keep looking at Vegeta. There was something inherently intimate about sharing a night like this with another person.

“I figured you would hate a night like this, but you seem captivated,” she said softly. 

“I hated the snow for a long time. Sometimes, if I think too much about it, I still do. But when I was growing up, my mother lived for snow like this. She would take me outside and we would build forts and have snowball fights. Those memories are more important than one horrible day.” 

It was the most she’d ever heard him talk about himself. Not only that, he was being vulnerable. Fuck, if he was always like this, she could probably bring herself to like him, or, at least, find him tolerable. 

“That’s a great way to think about it, Vegeta,” she smiled gently. “Your mom sounds like she was wonderful.” 

“She was,” Vegeta said, but Bulma could tell within a second that the spell was broken. His posture stiffened and he sat up straighter, a possessed look in his eye. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s dead and the man that killed her is right in fucking front of me and there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

Bulma was sure Vegeta was going to run across the street and kill Freeza with his bare hands. Honestly, she wouldn’t blame him if he did, though she would still have to arrest him. “I know, Vegeta. But you are doing something. If you hadn’t talked to me, we would never have figured out that Freeza was right under our noses the whole time. You identified him. And now you’re giving me all the information I need to take him down.” 

“I want to fucking kill him myself.” The rage was back in him, so palpable that Bulma could imagine that it was helping to heat the frozen car. 

“And then you would be the one who winds up in jail. Don’t let him ruin your life any further.” 

“Why would it matter if I wound up in jail? It’s not like I’m doing anything worthwhile.”

“I think after all of this, if you were the one who got arrested, I would feel like I failed you,” she admitted. “When I started all of this, it was for me. This was my big break, my chance to prove my capability as a detective. But at this moment, I know it’s more than that. This is about you. I think things will change for you when you can finally close this chapter of your life.” 

Vegeta returned to staring out the window, but his hand was on the door handle. Bulma reached across him and set her hand on top of his. He flinched so violently that it was like he had been burned.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Don’t fuck this up. We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

She moved her hand away, realizing the small touch had made him deeply uncomfortable. But his hand fell away from the door and settled in his lap.

“I can’t remember the last time it snowed like this,” she said, trying to bring back the enchantment she felt just a moment ago. “You’re right that we should enjoy it. Focus on that.”

Vegeta closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with his breath. “I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since I was a teenager,” he said, breaking the silence. 

“Lucky you. They stopped being fun after pulling them all the time for college and then for my job. The sleepover with your friends in high school kind is a lot more fun.” 

“Mine were never fun,” Vegeta replied. “Sleepless nights in a group home because some kid won’t stop crying, or someone is screaming, or there was a fight so no one is allowed in the bedroom were the main reasons I pulled all-nighters.” 

Bulma grimaced. “Fuck, sorry. I guess I didn’t think of that.” She hadn’t thought all that much about Vegeta at all after Freeza killed his parents. Of course, she knew the basics, but it seemed there was a lot more than she had assumed.

“Did you know that they take some of the money you make when you live in a group home and work? To pay the state or whatever. They just set you up to fail.” Vegeta sipped the energy drink Bulma had given him, staring ahead into the snow. 

“That’s so shitty. It’s not like you asked to be in fucking foster care. But I mean, even if you were set up to fail, you turned out okay enough. At least you’re not a murderer,” Bulma joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Vegeta snorted and downed the rest of his drink. “Jesus, how do you drink so many of these? I feel like my skin is moving after one.” 

“Again, too many all-nighters. My caffeine tolerance is phenomenal. One day my heart will probably give out, but as long as it’s not today, we’re good.” Bulma paused for a second, considering her next move. She needed to keep herself entertained and right now, Vegeta wasn’t the worst source of conversation. “Have you never had a sleepover that was just for fun?” 

Vegeta shook his head. “Nope.” 

“So, again we can ignore the whole killer across the street thing pretty easily when there’s absolutely nothing going on. It might be a little more difficult to ignore the fact that I’m so cold I’m afraid a toe might fall off inside my shoe. But I’m good at fun. This can be your first sleepover.”

“That might be the dumbest idea you’ve had yet.”

“Okay then, cranky. What’s your grand plan to pass the next however many hours?” 

“Sit quietly and think.” 

“No, that is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. If I do that, I am guaranteed to fall asleep again. We’re going to play a game.” Bulma thought for a moment and then laughed. “Oh, this will be perfect. It works better with three people, but I’m not a stickler for rules so we’ll make it work.”

Vegeta looked at her with disdain.

“It’s called Never Have I Ever. I used to play it all the time when I was a teenager. It’s also better with alcohol, but energy drinks will have to work. So we’ll each hold out all ten of our fingers. And we name something we’ve never done. If the other person has done it, they have to put down a finger. Whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug an energy drink.”

“So the punishment for losing is the potential to have a heart attack. Genius idea.” 

“I know, right?” she laughed, ignoring his sarcasm. “I am a genius. And I will go first.” 

Reluctantly, Vegeta held out his hands in front of him.

“Never have I ever…” Bulma paused, immediately plotting the best way to take Vegeta down. “Never have I ever stolen a car.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes but tucked his thumb in defeat. 

“Your turn, bad man,” she prompted when Vegeta stayed quiet.

“I’m thinking,” he muttered. “Never have I ever put someone in handcuffs.” 

Bulma tucked in her thumb and chuckled. “Your sex life must be boring.” 

Vegeta’s eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Right…anyway. Never have I ever spent a night in jail.” 

Vegeta put another finger down. “That’s not even fair.”

“Rules are rules, buddy.” 

“Never have I ever stayed up all night for fun,” he smirked.

“And you called mine a cheap shot! Never have I ever been arrested.”

Vegeta put down a third finger. He sighed, already looking like he may be out of questions. “Never have I ever graduated high school.” 

Now tied with three, Bulma wracked her brain to make sure her next one was a good one. Maybe one that would lead Vegeta down a path to losing. “Never have I ever had a one-night stand,” Bulma smirked. 

To her surprise, Vegeta’s fingers didn’t move. “Really?”

“Presumptuous,” he stuttered, barely getting the word out. No wonder he’d never had a one-night stand if he couldn’t even manage a question about sex without getting flustered. “Never have I ever gone to college”

Bulma put down her fourth finger. Of course, he would go right back to the easy wins. Two could play that game. “Never have I ever lived in a group home.” 

“Low blow, once again. Never have I ever gone to another country.” 

Her fifth finger went down. This was getting serious. “Never have I ever maxed out a credit card.” This one had to work. Vegeta had no freaking money. 

His lips curled in a satisfied smile. What the hell? She was beginning to think she had some wrong impressions about Vegeta.

“Never have I ever killed someone,” Vegeta said. She could tell by the look in his eye that he was bored with the game and just trying to give her an easy win to gloat about. 

She put another finger down.

Before she could spit out her next question, Vegeta looked at her in shock. “You’ve actually killed someone?”

“I don’t exactly like to talk about it, but yes. I was put in a position where I didn’t have a choice. I regret it, but if I didn’t, I would be dead right now.”  She ran her hand along the steering wheel, not wanting to look Vegeta in the eye.

“Then you shouldn’t regret it,” he said seriously.

Puzzled by his response, she looked up at him. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“It shouldn’t have to be. I may never have killed someone, but–” he paused. “Anything I say to you right now is off the record right?”

Bulma shook her head, laughing slightly. “Yes, and even if it weren’t, games of Never Have I Ever don’t hold up in court very well.” 

“I’ve beaten someone so fucking badly that they almost died. More than once. I don’t regret it at all. If it was up to me, I would have killed them, but someone stopped me. They did something unspeakable. What I did was warranted and so was what you did. It’s what makes us different from people like Freeza.”

Bulma stayed silent, turning over the logic of what Vegeta had said in her head. It was smarter than anything her therapist had said to her, even if it aired on the side of illegal violence. 

“At any rate, I think this game is over, you have forfeited by starting a conversation and therefore I win,” Bulma said, ready to change the subject.

“You just love making up rules, don’t you? Forget killing, that is the most morally questionable thing about you.” 

“Jerk. Fine, it’s a draw. No winners. And since we’re asking questions. You’ve never had a one-night stand? You don’t exactly strike me as a long-term relationship kind of guy.” 

“I’m not going to talk about that,” he said, arms folding back into their defensive position across his chest.

“I just talked about killing someone and you really aren’t going to talk about sex? Come on, it’s not that serious.” Bulma considered what could have made him this awkward with sex talk. Maybe a bad experience? Or was he a virgin? Shit, being a virgin at thirty would be a very awkward conversation. 

“It’s not something to speak about in public,” he said. “I’ve had enough of your games for tonight. Enough pretending that we’re not a minute away from Freeza. Grow up.”

“You don’t have to be a fucking dick about it, Christ. Sorry for not wanting to sit in silence for twelve or more hours,” she said sarcastically.

So much for trying to have fun. Bulma pulled her phone out. She had been trying to conserve battery since they couldn’t turn the car on, but it was almost two in the morning and her phone was still close to fully charged. She could spare some battery to entertain herself while Vegeta sulked in the passenger seat.

For another hour Bulma played games on her phone, which provided just enough mental stimulation to keep her awake. Every time she dared a glance at Vegeta, he truly was looking straight ahead, lost in thought or maybe having no thoughts at all. 

Fucking weirdo. It wasn’t worth trying to get to know him. Even if he was nice for a few moments here and there, he wasn’t a good person. 

Bulma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Oh no. It was inevitable, but she somehow hadn’t thought about it until now. 

“Vegeta,” she said, a frown on her face. “We need to go back to the gas station.”

“Why? I don’t think it’s open twenty-four hours.”

Shit, he was probably right. “I have to pee.”

“There are perfectly acceptable woods right there. Use them.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a woman. I can’t just whip it out and pee on a tree.”

“Well, then I guess your choices are to hold it or to knock on Freeza’s door and ask if you can borrow his restroom.”

Bulma groaned, crossing her legs tightly. It was a little after three; maybe she could hold it for another few hours. She wiggled again and whined in discomfort.

“For god’s sake. Pee in the woods. You’ll be fine.”

A gust of wind blew snow across the hood of the car.

“I don’t even have toilet paper.”

Vegeta reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a wrinkled-up napkin.

“Is it used?” She looked at it questioningly.

“Just fucking go before you pee in the car.” 

Bulma grabbed the napkin from him and opened the car door, shrugging off her blanket. If she had been cold inside the car, it was nothing compared to the chill of the wind. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cursed under her breath as she battled through the deep snow and the wind. She’d gone five steps and cold snow was already in her shoes and dampening her pant legs. 

She looked around, Freeza’s house was out of view, but the car was still in plain sight. Fuck it, if Vegeta wanted to watch, let him. She was not going to wander through three feet of snow to prevent a man from seeing her ass. 

When she got back in the car, she couldn’t control how badly she was shivering. The few moments of being completely exposed to the cold had chilled her to the bone, and now her shoes and pants were soaked up to the knees from the snow. 

“Shit,” she said, her teeth chattering around the word. She picked up her blanket, wrapping it tightly around herself, but it didn’t seem to do anything to help. 

Vegeta looked at her, frowning. “Do you have extra clothes?” 

Bulma shook her head, her body practically convulsing from the cold. 

“You need to turn the car on and dry off your pants.” 

“We can’t. It’s too quiet. He’ll hear.” She could barely get her words out. 

“You also can’t arrest Freeza if you wind up in the hospital with hypothermia. Take your shoes off and turn on the damn car.”

She didn’t have the energy to argue, especially because she knew he was right. She turned the car on, immediately cranking the heat, despite knowing it would be a few minutes before the car warmed up. Next, she peeled off her saturated sneakers and socks, tossing them ungracefully into the back seat. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she attempted to cover her feet with the blanket. 

“Here,” Vegeta said, taking off his blanket and putting it over her legs.

“No, you’ll be cold,” she protested. 

“I’m not giving it to you to keep. I have to pee now, too. I’ll be taking it back when I get back in the car.” 

Vegeta opened the car door and Bulma moaned as more cold air rushed in. He shut it quickly but didn’t make any effort to move further. Realizing he was going to go right there, she turned her head the other way, stifling a laugh. 

A flash of light caught her attention, and she turned to Freeza’s house. Judging by the sudden change in Vegeta’s stance, he had seen it, too. A figure walked out of the front door and down the steps.

“Shit!” Bulma cursed, debating what would be more obvious: leaving the car running or suddenly turning it off. It didn’t seem to matter, as the figure was already crossing the street toward them. Judging by his height alone, it wasn’t Freeza. 

Bulma waved frantically at Vegeta to get in the car, but he ignored her, instead crossing the street to meet the mystery man. She rolled down the window to hear what they said.

“...my wife….scared of the storm.” She heard bits and pieces of Vegeta’s voice, distorted by the wind. “...way back to the highway?”

The other man’s voice was quieter and Bulma couldn’t make much out, but based on his hand gestures he appeared to be giving Vegeta directions. They shook hands, the man returning to the house and Vegeta to the car.

“What just happened?” Bulma yelled as Vegeta sat down. 

“That was Zarbon. He’s apparently the butler here. He noticed our car had been here for a long time and wanted to make sure we were okay. I told him my ‘wife’ panicked in the storm and had gotten lost, but the storm turned too heavy for us to keep driving. He was very understanding and gave me directions back to North City,” Vegeta calmly explained, which was a stark contrast to the panic Bulma was feeling.

“Wait, what? Why did you get directions to North City?” Bulma felt disoriented from the whole thing, the coldness of her legs not helping the situation.

“Would you have liked me to tell him we’re from West City? Maybe just explain that we’re on a stakeout?”

“It’s not like it matters. You’re not giving him my exact address.”

“And that’s where you are wrong,” Vegeta said, his eyes turning serious. “Zarbon offered to escort us down the hill and to the highway. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Fuck!” This was bad. North City was at least another hour farther from West City. Depending on how far Zarbon decided to escort them, they were going to be so fucking far from home. 

“Get in the passenger seat before he gets back,” Vegeta said.

“Why? I already told you that I don’t want you driving this car.”

“One- because I told him you’re afraid of driving in the snow, and two- you don’t have shoes on and I doubt you can feel your feet.” 

Annoyed that Vegeta was right once again, Bulma agreed.

“Don’t get out of the car and get your feet wet again,” Vegeta said, getting out and waiting by the driver’s door while Bulma climbed over the console into the passenger seat.

Vegeta sat down, adjusting the mirrors slightly, and waited for Zarbon to come out. A large, black SUV pulled out of an attached garage. Zarbon pulled the SUV up alongside their car and gestured at Vegeta to roll down the window. 

“I realized I have some errands to run in North City,” he said. Bulma couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. His hair was long but twisted into an elegant ponytail, and he was very tall and athletic. “I’ll escort you into the city. After all, this vehicle is much better equipped for this type of weather. I’ll lead the way and you can drive in my tracks.”

“There’s no need for that, I would hate to put you out of your way. It’s the middle of the night, after all,” Bulma said, her voice as sweet as she could manage.

“It’s no inconvenience. I planned on doing some early morning shopping in North City to beat the holiday traffic. I’ll only be there an hour or so earlier than I had planned,” Zarbon explained.

“How kind of you,” Bulma said, her smile faltering. Zarbon nodded and rolled up the window.

Vegeta shifted the car into drive, following Zarbon down the icy road and away from West City.

“We’re so fucked,” Bulma groaned, pulling out her cellphone to call Goku. “Goku fucking answer.” Of course, his phone would go to voicemail when it actually fucking mattered.

“What’s he going to do, anyway?” Vegeta questioned. 

“Not much, but he can drive up to the house and continue the stakeout. I’m not willing to lose Freeza over this.” Bulma tried again, growing increasingly frustrated with every ring. After the third call went to voicemail, she took drastic measures and called his wife, who answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Chi-Chi,” Bulma said, cringing and bracing herself for Chi-Chi’s anger. “I’m so sorry to call at this time, but it’s an emergency. Is Goku home?”

“Of course Goku is home. It is four in the morning. What can I do for you?” Chi-Chi sounded like she had just woken up, and Bulma felt like she had to diffuse a bomb. If she waited one moment too long or said the wrong thing, Chi-Chi would go nuclear. 

“I called his phone, but I’m guessing it didn’t wake him. Would you mind waking him up for me? It really is an emergency or I wouldn’t ask.”

“One second,” Chi-Chi said, the level of annoyance in her voice staying the same for now. 

There was some rustling and then Goku’s sleepy voice. “Whas up, Bulma?” he yawned.

“Freeza’s butler saw us. We made up a story and now we’re stuck going to North City. I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to drive to Freeza’s and watch him until we can get back. They’re observant as fuck, so you’re going to have to wait at the end of the road and just hope he comes out so you can follow him. The bank is open today, so he might be going to work soon. You need to hurry.”

Bulma heard clattering and Chi-Chi screaming. At least Goku had a sense of urgency. “I’ll get there in an hour–take an undercover with lights and fly for most of the drive.”

“Be careful, it’s really icy out. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Don’t worry, Bulma. I’ll call you when I get there!” Goku hung up the phone, and Bulma had a feeling he was already in his car.

Now that Freeza was taken care of, Bulma tried to focus on the situation that she and Vegeta were in. They were driving slowly due to the ice but seemed to be nearing the highway. Bulma wondered just how far Zarbon intended for them to follow. Would it be suspicious if they exited slightly before North City so they had a shorter ride back?

“I hate North City,” Bulma sighed. She’d been there a handful of times but found it to be an extremely unfriendly place. The bitter cold seemed to affect the inhabitant’s personalities.  

“I lived in a group home there once,” Vegeta said. “Not my favorite place, either.” 

“How far does Zarbon expect us to go?” Bulma asked.

“I told him we were from out of town and visiting family in South City when we got lost. I didn’t give him any more details, so I feel like we can get off in the suburbs.” 

Bulma noticed the dark bags forming under Vegeta’s eyes. She didn’t feel much better herself.

“Goku is going to trail Freeza today. We can take a break before we drive back. I have a feeling Christmas Eve is going to matter the most. We don’t need to stay up for 3 days straight.”

“We could find somewhere to park and sleep for a few hours, I guess,” Vegeta said, not sounding entirely convinced.

“I mean that’s certainly a choice we could make. Or we could be normal people and get hotel rooms,” Bulma said.

Vegeta frowned. “I can’t afford that.”

“I can. And even if you think you don’t, I need a real amount of sleep to function properly.”

“I don’t want your fucking charity,” Vegeta snapped.

Being tired seemed to have made him even crankier. “Well then I can sleep in a nice warm hotel room and you can sleep under a thin-ass blanket in the car in below-freezing temperatures. Does that fucking work for you, Vegeta?” 

“I meant that I would just fucking drive back to West City. I’m not even that tired.”

“We have another 20 minutes to North City, and then it would be three hours back to West City. Let’s see, you’d have to stop at the station and get your car. After that, what? Another forty-five minutes to your house? At the earliest, you’d be home just before 9 am. I’d have to pick you up by three to get to the bank at the right time, so you’d get what, maybe five hours of sleep before I have to pick your ass up and do this all over again?” 

“Five hours is more than enough.”

“Sure, if you weren’t preparing to stay up for another twenty-four. Here’s my plan: In twenty minutes, we exit the highway at some suburb, grab fast food, find a decent enough hotel, and crash for eight whole hours. Goku calls us when Freeza leaves work, and we don’t have to drive back and forth for six hours today to follow him. My plan is not only more convenient but the logical option.” 

Vegeta shut his mouth, and Bulma gloated silently at her win. Signs for North City started to pop up along the highway, and Bulma spotted a sign for lodging and fast food. 

“Get off there,” she instructed. 

Vegeta signaled to exit the highway, and Zarbon, despite being in front of him, did the same. He got off the same exit, cutting Vegeta off. 

“What the fucking–” Vegeta was cut off as Zarbon slammed his brakes and forced Vegeta to pull over on the off-ramp. Zarbon got out and walked toward them.

Zarbon knew, he had to, there was no other reason for this.

Vegeta rolled down the window.

“This isn’t North City,” Zarbon laughed, but there was malice behind his smile. “There’s still another few exits before the city limits.”

Vegeta forced a smile. “Thanks, Zarbon, but we’re good here. The hotel we had reservations for last night is in this town. We’re hoping they’ll still let us check in so we can get some sleep.” 

“Ah, makes sense. For a second, I thought you were a liar. Can’t have that now, can we? You know, it made me and my employer mighty uncomfortable to think someone was creeping around the house. So, just to make sure you aren’t lying, I’m going to follow you to the hotel.”

Zarbon didn’t wait for a response before returning to his car.

Bulma let out the shaky breath she’d been holding. She was still trembling a bit, though more from nerves than the cold now. Vegeta pulled in front of Zarbon, and Bulma prayed to whatever deity might be listening that they would get out of this alive. 

“Put a hotel in the GPS, Bulma,” Vegeta said, his voice deadly serious. “We don’t need to make a wrong turn right now.” 

Bulma nodded, finding the first place that popped up. The reviews didn’t look promising, but she was not in a position to be picky. She did hope they had food since Zarbon foiled her plan of grabbing something along the way.

It was a nerve-wracking three-minute drive, but Bulma groaned when they pulled into the parking lot. It was a sketchy roadside motel, an ugly brown “L” of doors with an office in the middle. This was nowhere near what she had in mind. Vegeta parked in front of the office, and Zarbon pulled up alongside them. Bulma quickly put her still-wet shoes back on.

“Just want to make sure you’re able to get a room at such a strange time,” he shouted out the window. “This might not be the safest place to hang around.”

“I’m going to go check in,” Bulma said, taking a deep breath before getting out of the car. 

The greyscale office was dingy, a lamp in the corner flickering as the bulb neared death. 

“Hi,” Bulma said, plastering a smile on. “I know this is such a weird time to check in, but we got lost in the storm last night and had to pull over for a couple of hours. Is there any chance we can get two rooms? I will gladly pay for two days so we can stay past check-out.” Might as well keep the story consistent. 

The attendant looked bored with her story, and Bulma assumed this motel was frequented by some shady characters.

“Sure, whatever, as long as you’re paying. But one problem. Only one room unoccupied.”

Bulma rested her head on her fist in an attempt to stave off the headache she could feel starting behind her eyes. “Is it at least two beds?” 

“Nope. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” It’s not like she had much of a choice with Zarbon breathing down their necks. Vegeta would just have to sleep in a chair or something. Or in the car like he had suggested earlier.

She handed over her credit card and was given a key in return. “Room 5. It’s at the end on the left.” 

“Thanks,” Bulma replied unenthusiastically. 

Vegeta sat in the car, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he looked straight ahead. Zarbon was leaning against their car, arms folded.

Bulma waved the key at Vegeta, signaling him to get out. He grabbed the bags of snacks from the backseat, as well as the blankets. 

“Thanks so much for waiting, Zarbon. They were able to get our reservation squared away.” She turned to Vegeta. “Don’t worry about the luggage, hunny. We’ll get it in the morning. I’m too exhausted to think about it right now.” 

Sweet-talking Vegeta made her want to take a knife to her tongue.

Zarbon gave another disingenuous smile and approached Bulma. “Well, I’m glad everything worked out for you two. Have a Merry Christmas.”

Vegeta put his arm between Bulma and Zarbon but quickly adjusted to make it seem like he intended to wrap his arm around her shoulders. 

Bulma began walking, Vegeta’s arm still around her. Zarbon watched them walk all the way to the door of their room before he got back into his SUV. Bulma turned the key as fast as she could, thankful that the door opened on the first try. As soon as they were inside, she slammed it behind them, locking every mechanism available.

“Holy shit,” she said, collapsing into a squat with her back against the door. “I didn’t think we were going to walk out of that so easily.”

Vegeta still looked anxious. He peeked behind the blinds on the window. 

“Is he gone?”

“Pulling out now,” Vegeta said, watching him drive off. “He’s out of sight. Where is the key to my room?”

“Oh, so funny story,” Bulma said, standing back up despite the weakness she still felt in her legs. “This was the last room left.” 

Bulma finally opened her eyes and looked around. There was nothing in the tiny barren room except one bed, full-sized at best. No futon, no armchair, just a bed and a TV. Great.

Vegeta’s eyes were wide. “I’ll sleep in the car.”

Bulma sat down on the bed, pulling off her shoes. “I thought the same thing, but that’s stupid. It’s even colder here than it was by Freeza’s house. You’re not interested in me and I’m definitely not interested in you. I’ll build a pillow wall between us, we’ll both sleep like the dead and then it’s back to business.” 

Vegeta looked less than convinced but sat down on the opposite side of the bed, taking off his jacket. “Are you still hungry?”

“Not after that. I think I’d be sick if I ate right now. My nerves are shot.” 

Vegeta nodded. “Same.” He grabbed a bottle of water out of a bag and offered another to Bulma. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him. “I don’t even know if I’m tired anymore. I’m too cold to feel anything else.”

“Go take a hot shower,” Vegeta said. That sounded like a great idea. 

Bulma opened the bathroom door, hoping it was at least moderately clean. She looked around; it wasn’t awful. Definitely an older room, but it was clean enough to not feel gross. After starting the shower and waiting a bit too long for the water to turn hot, she began pulling off her clothes. The legs of her pants stuck to her uncomfortably as she tugged them off. 

Bulma cracked the door. “Vegeta,” she called meekly.

“What?”

“Can you take my pants and put them on top of the heater so they dry?” She held them out the door, trying to shield herself from his view. 

He got up, taking them roughly from her hands and she closed the door swiftly. 

The shower felt magical. It was possibly the best thing that had ever happened to her. The cheap bar of soap and hotel shampoo could not ruin how good the hot water felt on her frozen body. Her legs and feet tingled as they thawed, and she rubbed at them to speed up the process. 

Unfortunately, after about ten minutes of basking in the shower’s glory, the water began to run cold. “Fuck!” she yelled when a splash of cold water ran down her back.

She jumped out of the shower as quickly as possible and grabbed a threadbare towel from the shelf. As she dried off, she looked at what remained of her clothes. A black T-shirt, underwear, a heavy jacket, and a bra. Not a huge variety to choose from. Deciding to pick comfort over modesty after the night she had, she pulled on her underwear and t-shirt, leaving her bra and coat on the bathroom floor. 

When she opened the bathroom door, she let out a snort of laughter. Vegeta was lying on top of the bedsheets, stripped down to his boxers, out cold. So much for him not being tired. At least he had put her jeans on the heater before falling asleep.

Bulma grabbed her phone from her bag, setting an alarm for noon and sending a quick text to Goku to let him know the plan and where she and Vegeta were. She flicked off the bedside lamp and attempted to pull the blankets out from under the deadweight that Vegeta had turned into. He groaned, still cranky even in his sleep. However, she was able to maneuver the blankets out from underneath him and shimmied underneath them before deciding to cover him as well. 

“Goodnight, Vegeta,” Bulma whispered before turning over to face away from him. 

“‘Night,” he responded in his sleep, curling onto his side, his elbow brushing against her back.

—

Bulma awoke to the ringing of her phone. She leaned over to turn off the alarm, but a heavy object on her chest prevented her movement. She blinked a few times, trying to let her brain catch up to whatever was happening. Vegeta, she realized. Vegeta’s muscular arm was sprawled across her. She pushed it off of her and it flopped back to his side. 

The ringing continued and Bulma realized it was not her alarm. When she looked at her phone she realized it was only 10 AM and Goku was calling her.

“Hello?” Bulma answered.

“Hey Bulma, sorry to wake you, but I figured you’d want to know this.” 

Immediately, Bulma shot straight out of bed, her heart racing. “What happened? Is it Freeza?”

The loudness of her voice woke Vegeta, who sat up, looking at her groggily. 

“No. I’m watching the bank right now. He got to work about 7 AM, but I don’t think he’ll be there long. Especially because of the forecast.”

“What forecast? What are you talking about?”

“There’s a blizzard, surprised the crap out of the weatherman on the news this morning,” Goku chuckled. “It already started and they’re shutting down West City. Shops are closing and they’re starting to announce road closures.”

“Shit, we’ve better get out of here!” Bulma said, pulling back the blinds to look outside. 

Except she didn’t see anything except a wall of angry, thick snowflakes that had already accumulated another layer on top of the one from the previous night’s storm.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, that’s what I was calling to tell you. The storm already started in North City. I didn’t know about it or I would’ve called you sooner. All the roads are closed. You’re not getting out of there anytime soon.”

“Oh my god, Goku, what am I supposed to do?” 

Vegeta stood up, coming to look out the window beside her. Bulma put the phone on speaker so he could hear what was going on. 

“I’ve already talked to Captain Krillin and filled him in. He and I are going to take shifts trailing Freeza. We’re going to borrow a truck from a friend of his and put snow chains on the tires. If Freeza makes a move, we’re going to find him.” 

Bulma felt a surge of disappointment. This was her case, her big break. And she was trapped, unable to be helpful in the slightest.

“I’m sorry, Bulma,” Goku said, knowing how important this case was to her. “If there was another way, we would do it. But you know that catching Freeza is more important. We’re going to do our best for you, okay?” 

“Yeah, Goku,” she smiled sadly. “Thanks.”

“Are you guys safe there? Do you have food?”

“We’ll survive. I have water and some snacks. It won’t be fun, but we aren’t going to starve to death.”

“Alright, good luck!” Goku said, sounding far too cheery. She supposed he had the right to be since he wasn’t the one stuck in a tiny motel room with nothing but Cheetos and soda. 

Vegeta had sat on the bed, looking through his phone. “It’s supposed to snow for the entire day, maybe into tomorrow. They’re calling for over three feet of snow in North City, on top of what’s left over from the other storm.”

“Of course it is,” Bulma lamented, sitting back down. “We don’t even have clean clothes. What the fuck are we supposed to do?” 

Vegeta crossed the room again, opening the door slightly. A foot of snow threatened to spill into the room. “Nothing,” he announced closing the door. “Even if we had a better vehicle than that car, we aren’t getting out of here. Did the office have any supplies?” 

“I wasn’t looking,” Bulma said, having been too occupied with Zarbon to pay attention. 

“I’ll go check.” Vegeta pulled on his clothes quickly and zipped the coat Bulma bought him up to his chin. 

Bulma sank back into the bed. “My card is on file. Get anything- food, drinks, toothpaste, playing cards, I don’t care. Go nuts.”

Vegeta nodded before opening the door again, forcing his way into the deep snow. 

Ten minutes passed, making Bulma hopeful that he had found a shop on-site and was buying everything possible. When the door opened again, Vegeta had his arms full.

“Oh thank god!” Bulma watched as he set the bags down on the floor.

“Don’t get too excited,” Vegeta warned. “It was slim pickings.” 

“Anything is better than what we had before this.” 

Bulma peeked in the bags, seeing what he’d acquired. There was an alarming amount of beef jerky, a tube of toothpaste, a pack of toothbrushes, deodorant, a few cups of instant noodles, a pack of men’s underwear, and, best of all, two sweatshirts. 

“This is brilliant, Vegeta!” She pulled out a sweatshirt, noticing it was a few sizes bigger than she wore, which was perfect. She could wear it as a nightgown and get out of the rest of her gross clothing. “Thank you!” 

Vegeta grunted something that might have been ‘You’re welcome.’ He pulled out the pack of underwear and the other sweatshirt and walked into the bathroom.

When Bulma heard the shower running, she decided it was safe to change. She stepped out of her underwear, grimacing at the thought of how long she had been wearing them, and pulled her t-shirt over her head. She swiped on a thick layer of deodorant and put on the sweatshirt. It stopped mid-thigh, which was good enough for her. With a yawn, she crawled back into bed, deciding sleep would be the best way to pass the rest of this miserable day.

She had barely closed her eyes when the water turned off and Vegeta stepped back into the room. He wore the same sweatshirt as her, but he was also wearing a new pair of underwear- ones that were a good bit tighter than the boxers he’d had on before. Bulma rolled to look away when she realized she’d been staring.

“Going back to sleep?” he asked her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on being awake yet. And we might as well get some sleep in now that we have nowhere to be.” 

Vegeta nodded and sat back against the pillows. “Will it keep you up if I turn on the TV?” 

“No,” Bulma said. She often fell asleep with the TV on at home and found the noise comforting. “Have at it.

Vegeta turned on the TV, flipping through the channels and stopping on the weather report. He was watching intently, despite it just being a recap of information they already knew. It didn’t take long for Bulma to drift back to sleep. 

—

The next time Bulma woke up, it was because of a loud bang. Vegeta shot up next to her, looking just as startled. 

“What was that?” he asked.

Bulma listened for a hint as to what it could have been. She realized that the room was far too quiet. The heater wasn’t running; there was no buzz of electricity from the walls. 

“The power’s out. I bet a transformer blew somewhere nearby.” 

A powerful gust of wind sounded outside, immediately sending a chill underneath the door. 

“It’s going to get cold in here,” Vegeta pointed out. He got out of bed, found one of the blankets in the bag from the car, and stuffed it underneath the door. “That’ll help keep the heat in a little.” 

Bulma grabbed her phone again and pulled the blankets around her tightly. It was 2 in the afternoon, and she finally felt well-rested, but now she was stuck with nothing to do. She sent Goku a text to check in on him, which he responded to promptly. 

Bank closed early. Freeza left but didn’t go home. He’s staying at a house in the city. The lease is in the name Zarbon.

Not wanting to waste time on another text, Bulma called Goku. 

“Hey! Zarbon is the creep who followed us here. He said he was the butler, but I got the distinct impression that Freeza doesn’t work alone.” 

Goku hummed and there was a rustling sound.

“Hey Bulma, it’s Krillin. How are you holding up?”

“As good as I can, I guess. The power just went out here. I’m trying to save my phone battery, so I’m going to go in a second, but can you check with the power company and see what’s going on.”

“Oh, that sucks. Give me a second….okay, so it looks like a transformer blew, but they won’t be able to get a crew out to it for another few hours. Estimated time for the power returning is sometime around midnight.” 

“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better,” Bulma moaned.

“Try and chill,” Krillin said, knowing Bulma very rarely was capable of being ‘chill’. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on Freeza and we’ll call you if anything important happens. Save your phone battery.”

“Thanks, Krillin, bye.”

“Bye, Bulma,” Goku’s voice yelled before the call disconnected. 

“No power until midnight,” Bulma informed Vegeta. He was sitting awkwardly at the edge of the bed, like he was unsure of how to even exist. 

“I found some playing cards in the store,” he told her. 

“Vegeta!” Bulma jumped up, suddenly remembering her shopping trip from the previous day. Vegeta startled at her sudden loudness. “I went to the shops when we were at the bank. All of that stuff is in the trunk. It was meant to be Christmas presents, but I think we’re more in need right now than anyone I was intending to give them to. There are board games in there that were for Goku’s son, a bunch of chocolate, and homemade soaps and lotions!”

“You want me to go back out into the blizzard for board games, chocolate, and soap?” 

“Please, Vegeta,” Bulma said, pouting and batting her eyelashes at him. “It’s going to be so boring if we don’t have something to do. I promise I’ll share.” 

Vegeta sighed but pulled on his pants and shoes and Bulma tossed the keys to him. When he opened the door this time, snow immediately poured in. “You fucking owe me.”

“I’ll make it up to you in endless board game entertainment.”

Vegeta closed the door, returning only a few moments later with Bulma’s shopping haul.

“Yes! Thank you, Vegeta!” Bulma tore open the bags, pulling out an assortment of games and popping a very expensive-looking piece of chocolate in her mouth.

“Alright, since this stupid room has no tables, let’s use the bed for the games.” Bulma pulled the sheets and comforter off, wrapping herself in the comforter and sitting up against the pillows. She tossed a pillow and sheet at Vegeta.

“Do you know how to play chess?” 

—-

Two hours later, the bed was covered in a variety of chocolate wrappers, beef jerky packages, and empty bottles of soda. 

“Fucking admit it, Vegeta, it’s a stalemate. You can’t win. I can’t win. It’s over.” 

Vegeta’s eyes were locked on the chess board, scanning every possible move. Which, as Bulma had pointed out, were nonexistent. 

“Fine. Stalemate,” he finally conceded. 

“Okay, that was an impressive game, Vegeta. Where did you learn to play like that?” Bulma asked, packing up the pieces. 

“I played with my father growing up.”

“Your parents sound like they were great, Vegeta,” she said, setting the game aside and tucking her hands under the blanket. It was starting to get cold in the room, despite the blanket under the door.

Vegeta didn’t respond right away, his eyes unfocused as he looked off into the room. 

“My mother was. My father could be, at times. When work wasn’t going well, it affected how he treated us. He had high expectations for me, and the pressure on me was enormous. I was meant to inherit the company, but when he died, I was far too young for that, so it was passed down to some junior executive. He ran the company into the ground, and it closed down before I turned 18.” 

Between the game of chess and the conversation, Bulma realized just how intelligent Vegeta was. He probably grew up as well off as she did, but it was ripped out from under him. He was frustrated, which is why he seemed so angry all of the time. Anyone would be angry at losing so much. 

“Can I tell you something a lot of people don’t know about me?” she asked him. She knew it was a risk, but she was willing to take it.

Vegeta nodded, and Bulma noticed that he was beginning to look a little cold with just the sheet. 

“Come sit up here. I’ll share the comforter with you,” she offered. 

“I’m fine. It’s not that cold.”

“Well, it isn’t all about you, I’m getting cold, and having another person under this blanket would help,” she lied. She wasn’t about to let him be cold over some stupid idea of modesty that he had in his head.

“Fine,” Vegeta said, shuffling up the bed to sit against the headboard. Bulma tossed the blanket over him and he pulled it over himself. “What big secret were you about to reveal before you conveniently changed the topic?”

“My parents are the Briefs. Like the Capsule Corporation, multi-million dollar company Briefs.”

“And you’re telling me this why? So you can tell me about all the things you got to grow up with that I missed out on?” 

“No, because I understand what it means to grow up under pressure. Both of my parents are amazing. They love me and they give me everything I need. But there was always this unspoken rule that I was to grow up and become another brilliant scientist in a long line of brilliant scientists. And sometimes my dad would be so busy, and my mom was a bit of an air-head, that I had too much freedom.”

“When I was fifteen, I left home, planning to go on some epic adventure. And I did, but holy shit was it dangerous. I did some stupid things and I’m very lucky that I didn’t get hurt or kidnapped or worse. The worst part of it was I met a boy- Yamcha. The guy who fixed your car. He’s not a bad guy, but at fifteen, I wasn’t ready for a real relationship, but I thought I was, and my parents were too oblivious to stop me.”

“I dated him until last year. That’s half of my life. And it wasn’t a healthy relationship. We fought constantly and I accused him of cheating. Honestly, I don’t know if he ever did, but I had my suspicions and I ran with it. I was so enamored with him at fifteen, and no one stopped me from letting it get too serious that it just snowballed. But anyway, all of this to say, you can love your parents but recognize their flaws. Even if they’re dead, Vegeta.”

“My mother was too kind,” Vegeta said quietly. “Too afraid to stand up when she didn’t agree with my father. And my father was too strict. Hours of tutoring, art lessons, language lessons, and marital arts lessons from the time I could speak. I never had a childhood. And then they were gone and all of the fortune and success that was promised to me died with them. Everything that I told myself all of the back-breaking hard work was for disappeared.” 

“What was your brother like?” Bulma asked. The last time she had tried to ask him about Tarble, he shut down, but he was so relaxed now, and she had a feeling that his brother was something he needed to talk about.

Vegeta let out a shaky breath. “Losing Tarble was worse than losing my parents. Any joy I was able to derive from childhood was from him. I would sneak away with him when he was little, trying not to let my father’s expectations ruin his childhood, too. We would wake up in the middle of the night and play hide and seek in the mansion. I would have done anything to protect him and I failed him. I saw him die and I did nothing. I didn’t even try and stop Freeza.” 

“Oh, Vegeta,” Bulma whispered, trying to not let him see the wetness in her eyes. “You were ten. You couldn’t have stopped him.”

“The only reason I was in that closet was because we were playing hide and seek. Everyone else was asleep, but Freeza found Tarble first because he was wandering around the house looking for me. But I was right there, right in the living room closet.” 

Bulma felt a sudden burst of affection in her chest for Vegeta. The routine he put on every day was an act, and she could so plainly see through it now. He wasn’t a brutish idiot. He was still carrying around the same guilt as he did when he was ten years old and no one had ever given him a chance, a chance to trust and be trusted enough to finally let out the guilt that was eating him alive. 

“You could never have known, Vegeta. It isn’t your fault” As if disconnected from her brain, her hand drifted away from her, finding his under the blanket and squeezing it tightly. When she realized what she had done, her heart began beating out her chest. He flinched away from her touch in the car, and now she was holding his warm hand in her own. 

The only sounds in the room were their breathing, accompanied only by the heavy gusts of wind that raged outside. Bulma thought for a moment that her nervous breathing could compete with the wind. When Vegeta squeezed her hand, she closed her eyes with relief. 

The room had been dim all day, the daylight blocked by the storm clouds, but now the sun was setting and the room turned dark. 

“I guess it’s too dark to play another game,” she said quietly, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “And no electricity to make those cup noodles that I’ve been craving.” 

“What about your stupid game we played in the car?” Vegeta asked.

“Never have I ever?” she laughed. “Are you really suggesting we finish that?”

Vegeta shrugged. “Unless you have a better idea.” 

“Alright, but I’m not taking my hands out from under the warmth of this blanket,” she said. Out of the warmth of his hand is what she meant. “We’ll just keep track out loud.”

“If I remember correctly, I was beating you. You had six fingers down, and I only had four, but I believe it was your turn.” 

Bulma thought for a second. “Never have I ever dated more than one person.” 

“Still four. Never have I ever dated anyone.”

“Seven,” Bulma sighed, a bit miffed at what seemed like an inevitable loss while also contemplating Vegeta’s romantic experiences. “Never have I ever played an instrument.”

“Five. Never have I ever had a job for more than a year.” 

“Eight. Never have I ever lived more than an hour from my childhood home.” 

“Six. Never have I ever had more than a thousand dollars in my bank account.”

“Nine,” Bulma sighed. “Never have I ever stolen from a store.”

“Seven.” Vegeta paused, presumably thinking of the most effective way to beat Bulma. His hand fidgeted in hers, and she noticed it had turned a bit clammy. “Never have I ever been with someone.”

Bulma’s mouth gaped. Did he just admit what she thought he did? She’d made the assumption based on his other answers, but she didn’t expect him to straight up tell her. “Ten…” she said, meeting his eyes. 

He gazed at her, searching her expression, waiting for her response. Her eyes drifted down to his lips.

The buzz of Bulma’s cell phone filled the room, the bright light of the screen illuminating the ceiling. They both jumped apart and Bulma scrambled to pick up her phone.

“Hey, Goku,” she answered, her voice a bit too breathless.

“We think we’ve got a pattern, Bulma. Now that we know Freeza works at the bank, we started pulling the financial records of his victims. We think it’s loans. The pattern fits every single family except Vegeta’s. There’s no records of anyone in his family taking out a loan.”

Bulma turned to Vegeta. He was sitting at the edge of the bed again, his leg bouncing with anxiety.

“Vegeta, do you know if your parents had taken out any loans? Goku thinks there is a pattern, but they don’t see any record from your family.” 

Vegeta frowned. “Well, maybe not my parents personally,” he realized. “The company had a bad quarter right before Christmas. I overheard him arguing about it with Nappa, his business partner. They eventually decided to take out a business loan to try and stay afloat.”

“Did you hear that Goku?” Bulma asked.

“Yep, got it. I’ll see what I can find out.” 

“Hey, I forgot to ask when you pulled his car’s registration. What’s his real name?” 

“His house and car are registered under different names. He might have some aliases. We have Bernard Smith or Victor Williams.”

“Very formal,” Bulma mused. “Weird.”

“What was the second name?” Vegeta asked, standing up. 

“Victor Williams,” Bulma repeated.

“I’ve heard that before. I know that name.” 

“Oh shoot, Bulma, I think Freeza just walked outside. Looks like he’s about to take a walk. I’ll call you later.” 

Bulma hung up the phone and turned her attention to Vegeta who had begun pacing. “It’s cold in here. Come back under the blankets.”

“Bulma, I’ve heard that name. Or read it. I just can’t fucking remember.” 

“Freezing isn’t going to help you remember. Come here.”

“Give me a fucking second!” Vegeta turned on his heel and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. 

“Okay then,” Bulma mused to herself. She wondered if some memory was triggered for him or if he was having a complete meltdown over the almost kiss that had just happened. Maybe a combination of both.

But holy hell. She almost just kissed Vegeta. She would have kissed Vegeta if her phone hadn’t rang. And then what? Would he have kissed her back? Or would she be stuck, snowed in at a shitty motel, sharing a bed with a man who rejected her? She groaned thinking about how potentially awkward this might turn. 

But then there was the other option. What if he did kiss her back? Then they could spend the next few hours being much more entertained. As strange as it seemed, Bulma realized she was leaning toward this option. Seeing Vegeta be so vulnerable, talking about his life so genuinely to her, made her see him in a very different light. 

Unfortunately, Bulma was left alone with her thoughts for over thirty minutes, until, finally, the door opened, and Vegeta walked out of the pitch-black bathroom.

“I know how I know that name,” he said, sitting beside her. “A few months before they were killed, I overheard my parents and Nappa arguing. Nappa had convinced my father to make a deal with a man who was running some kind of illegal operation. I was too young to know what was going on, but I knew it was something bad. My mother had yelled at my father that night, one of the only times I’d ever heard her raise her voice to him. She had said something like ‘You’d put a deal with Victor Williams over your family’s wellbeing?’”

“Shit, so that confirms Goku’s theory. That’s got to narrow it down. I fucking wish we weren’t trapped in here. Goku’s going to take him down no matter what, but it would be a hell of a lot better if it were me.”

“If that idiot can get to my house without driving off the road, there is a folder at my house. It was the last of my parents’s estate that was given to me when I turned eighteen. Big disappointment that was- I expected a small trust fund that was left unaffected by the fall of Saiyan Industries, but no. It was debt. I inherited debts. I’ve ignored most of it because I can’t fucking pay it, but all the account information is in a folder in a kitchen drawer.”

Bulma texted Goku the information, noticing her phone’s battery was down to 25%. She supposed she would have to go charge it in the car if it got much lower. Goku returned the text quickly.

Got it. Will send someone to get it. Krillin says he’s going to try and get a truck out to you in the morning if the roads are still bad. It will be early so get some sleep. 

It wasn’t very late, and Bulma’s stomach rumbled with hunger. She’d done more than enough sleeping, but she supposed she could force herself to go to sleep to pass the time, especially if things were about to get awkward between her and Vegeta. 

“Krillin is working on getting a truck to get us in the early morning. We should probably try to get more sleep in case we have to pull another all-nighter tomorrow.”

“I need to charge my phone,” Vegeta said. “What about you?” 

“Yeah, it’s probably not going to last until the morning.”

“I’ll go out to the car and charge them- be back in an hour or so.”

Bulma considered protesting, asking him to stay and finish what they had started, but that was irresponsible. If her phone died and Goku or Krillin needed to reach her, it could have some dire consequences. 

While Bulma was lost in thought, Vegeta had already pulled on his shoes. “Phone?”

Bulma handed it to him, feeling an emptiness in the pit of her stomach caused by more than just hunger when he walked out the door. Even though it wasn’t possible, she did the best she could to pull the blankets tighter around her.

Chapter Text

One Day Until Christmas

It was somewhere in the early hours of the morning when Bulma woke up again. She stretched, noticing the deafening silence that she had fallen asleep to was just a tiny bit different. The noise of the outside world was dampened by the thick snow, but the distinct hum of electricity had returned. 

However, the sound that had awoken her was Vegeta returning to the room. He placed her phone on the nightstand before retreating toward the door. 

“Where are you going?” Bulma whispered, leaning over to turn on the lamp.

Vegeta turned in surprise, and immediately, Bulma recognized the face of someone who had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. 

“I left my phone in the car,” he lied. 

“Nice try. Where were you really going?”

Vegeta didn’t respond, but his face contorted with raw emotion. “Back to Freeza.”

“Okay, let’s talk this though. The car is completely snowed in. So once you dug out the car, were you going to drive a shitty sedan across four feet of snow and ice up a mountain road to Freeza’s house and strand me here? Actually, don’t answer that. I know that’s what you were up to.” Bulma sat up, shivering as the chill of the room hit her. The heat must not have been back on for very long. She stood up, crossing the room to stand facing him. “Let me tell you all the reasons why that is a terrible idea. First, that car would not make it. Your ass would slide down the side of a mountain and die. Second, if by some miracle you made it, you have no chance of being successful. Freeza isn’t alone in that house and seems to have some pretty great security. Third, if you somehow survived all of that, I would fucking kill you the next time I saw you for stranding me in a sketchy motel room in a blizzard. So, take your fucking wet clothes off and get back in the bed.”

“He doesn’t deserve to live.” Vegeta’s eyes were dark. “I can’t sit here anymore doing nothing.”

“You’re right. He doesn’t. But you do. Stop trying to sacrifice yourself for the sake of Freeza. Whatever you are planning, there’s no possible outcome where you come out unharmed. And I’ve grown just fond enough of you that I would be upset if I had to arrest you.” 

The fall of his proud shoulders made her confident enough that he wasn’t going to leave. Too cold to keep standing in the room, she got back in bed. 

“Get back in bed, Vegeta. Your clothes are soaked. I know you’re freezing.”

Vegeta turned off the lamp before peeling off his wet clothes and putting them on the heater. He got under the covers, pulling them up to his neck. She could feel him shivering. 

“Christ, Vegeta. What were you doing out there? Were you even in the car?” 

“I already dug it out,” he admitted. 

“With what? I don’t have a shovel in there.”

“My hands.”

“You’re fucked up. Stop punishing yourself when you’ve done nothing wrong.” Before he could protest, she grabbed his hands. They were frigid, and she could feel cracks in his knuckles, the skin scraped raw from the ice and pavement. She brought her hand out from under the blankets, realizing they were wet with blood. 

Bulma turned the lamp back on and pulled the covers off of Vegeta. His hands were gnarled and bloody. 

“Holy shit, dude. This is not normal.” Bulma got out of bed and went to the bathroom to get some washcloths which she wet with warm water in the sink.

Vegeta had pulled the covers back over himself, clearly chilled to the bone despite not admitting it. 

“Let me see them,” she demanded, sitting down on his side of the bed.

Rolling his eyes, Vegeta pulled his hands back out. 

Bulma inspected them carefully before dabbing the blood away. “You’re lucky you don’t have frostbite.” She continued to clean him up as best she could with just a washcloth, but his knuckles wouldn’t stop bleeding. He hadn’t spoken and she wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or embarrassment, but she had a feeling it was the latter. 

She grabbed her shirt from the floor, checked to make sure it wasn’t a favorite, and ripped it into strips that she used to wrap his knuckles. 

“It’s not perfect, but at least you won’t get blood all over the sheets. Get some sleep” she sighed, before walking around the bed to get back in on her side. 

She turned the lamp back off, closing her eyes, but wasn’t tired at all. Not surprising, since she had been attempting to kill time with extra sleep. To occupy her mind, she ran through possible scenarios involving Freeza. The situation with Zarbon made her particularly nervous; he was obviously suspicious of them, and that could complicate things. She wondered how many other accomplices could be involved. Worried about Goku, she decided to send him a text. Thankfully, he responded immediately. The only activity he had seen was Zarbon returning to the house.

Putting her phone back down, she closed her eyes again. She was finally starting to feel warm, thanks to the heat returning. Vegeta being back in the bed wasn’t doing much to warm her, as he was still a human icicle from his midnight romp in the snow. She rolled over to see if Vegeta had fallen asleep. He certainly needed it, not having slept nearly as much as she had.

She was surprised when she saw the glimmer of his charcoal eyes gazing at her. A small gasp escaped her before the air froze in her lungs. And then she felt it again—that strange feeling—the same feeling that drew her to him the night before. She wondered if he could feel it, too. 

“Not tired?” she asked softly. “Or are you too cold to sleep?”

“I’m fine,” he said. His voice was gentler than before. 

“And what about your hands? That has to hurt.” 

“I’ve dealt with much worse. I’ll live.” 

“I know you will, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer.” She inched closer to him, attempting to share some of her body heat with him. Her leg bumped against his and he was still freezing. He didn’t move away. In fact, there was the tiniest press of him into her touch. She smiled at him, her face only a few inches from his now, but he had directed his gaze at the ceiling. 

Her hand drifted up and caressed his cheek. He turned on his side to face her, and his eyes searched hers as if looking for the answers to a million unasked questions. She let out the breath she had been holding as she moved her lips to meet his. He was stiff, his hands pressed firmly to his sides, and Bulma was about to pull back, thinking she had misread the signs, when his lips parted slightly, inviting her in. He was hesitant, but she matched his pace, letting him adjust to her touch. Soon, his hand tangled into her hair. She drew a path down his neck and shoulders with her fingers, before resting her hand on his back– an anchor point to draw herself even closer to him. 

“You’re so cold,” she whispered, tracing each vertebra of his spine with her index finger.

He didn’t respond, but his eyes were transfixed on her, begging for another kiss, but unsure of how to initiate. 

“You can kiss me, Vegeta. You can touch me, too. You have my permission. If I want you to stop I’ll tell you, okay?” 

That was what he needed. His hand gripped her hip, and he kissed her again, deeper this time, and she couldn’t help but let out a whimper against his lips as his tongue danced with hers. He was a little clumsy, proven by the accidental crashing of his teeth against hers, but he made up for it with the intensity behind his actions. 

“Vegeta,” she whispered. “Are you sure you want this?” 

He closed his eyes, his fingertips pressing into her hips hard enough to leave a mark. “Yes.”

“I don’t want to ruin the mood,” Bulma said, touching his muscular chest. “But I don’t want to go into this blind. Are you a virgin? I’m not judging, I just want to make sure we do this right.” 

Vegeta’s face flushed for what had to be the millionth time since they’d been trapped in this motel room. “Yes.” 

Bulma had a feeling that no matter what she did, this was going to wind up being complicated. Whatever was going on here was more than just sex, especially now that she confirmed it was Vegeta’s first time, but she couldn’t imagine a relationship with him was in the cards. They led drastically different lives and she couldn’t picture him suddenly turning into the perfect gentleman who would take her on romantic dates and meet her parents. But did that matter? There was something magnetic about him, something that was drawing her in deeply.

“I know you’re not big on words, but you have to communicate with me or it’s game over, okay? I need to know that you’re comfortable with everything we do. Speak up if I do something you don’t want. And I need you to be honest. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have a condom, but I’m on birth control. And I know I’m clean. Have you ever done anything before that would potentially mean you’re not?”

“No.”

“Alright, now that’s out of the way. " She smiled wickedly at him and sat up in bed, pulling the sweatshirt over her head.

Vegeta’s eyes widened in shock and she supposed he never realized that she was completely naked underneath it the entire time. 

“I wasn’t going to wear the same underwear for days,” she laughed. 

Vegeta stared at her, a little dumbstruck, but ultimately it was flattering. She moved to straddle his hips, and she felt his erection twitch through his underwear. Convinced that they were really going to do this, Bulma let herself drink in just how attractive he was. 

“You work hard for this body, don’t you?” She ran her fingernails down his abs; seeing them was nothing compared to feeling them. The muscles contracted as she touched them, and he had stopped breathing.

That small contact made Vegeta throw his head back, his eyes shut. She leaned over to kiss his neck, her tongue flicking over his pulse point. A soft whimper escaped Vegeta and she thought it might be the best sound she’d ever heard. 

Fuck, she was going to wreck him.

“Will you take these off?” she asked, looping her finger into the elastic of his underwear.

She shuffled to sit on her knees beside him and he quickly rid himself of the only thing he was wearing– the last thing that kept him from being completely exposed to her. And she knew it was more than the physical act. She was ripping apart the mask he wore to hide the vulnerable parts of him.  Bulma sensed this was far more than just the first time he had been with someone physically. This was the first time he’d let someone see who he really was. 

A hesitant hand lifted off the mattress but dropped back down. 

“I told you, you can touch me, Vegeta. I want you to touch me.”

His hand lifted again, still hesitant, touching her collarbone. 

“Keep going,” she coaxed.

He breathed in through his nose– a harsh, jagged breath. As he exhaled, his hand moved to cup her breast. He sat up beside her and traced the curvature, massaging her in his hand. His mouth found her neck, peppering her with surprisingly gentle kisses. Bulma wrapped her hand behind his neck, tangling it in the base of his hair and bringing him to her for another kiss. His tongue sought entrance to her mouth first, and his hands began exploring her body. When his fingertips ran down her back she shivered, smiling against his lips before breaking the kiss.

Bulma moved so she could recline against the pillows. 

“Come here,” she said, patting the bed. He obliged quickly, taking up the space beside her. 

She rested her head on his muscular shoulder and began massaging his thigh, slowly moving her hand higher and higher. A teasing stroke of his inner thigh elicited a gasp from him and his cock twitched again, hips bucking up toward her hand desperately. She gave his thigh one last squeeze before she moved on to his cock, sliding her hand along the underside from base to tip. Vegeta cried out, thrusting toward her hand again.

“Fuck, Vegeta,” Bulma whispered, wrapping her hand around him. “That’s so fucking hot.” 

She had a feeling he might not make it long enough to get inside of her, but she didn’t mind, enamored by watching his reactions to her touch. Her free hand drifted between her own legs to pleasure herself while she touched him. 

She wrapped her hand around his cock, moving in a slow rhythm. She watched the rise and fall of his chest increase as she increased the pace, and his breaths soon turned to gasps. She mouthed at his neck, feeling his pulse race against her lips, before she bit down softly. 

“You feel so good in my hand,” she whispered in his ear. “I can only imagine what it will feel like when you’re inside me.”

His whole body tensed and he moaned before spilling uncontrollably into her hand. She eased him through his orgasm while watching his face contort with pleasure. When he was spent, she leaned forward, running her tongue along his stomach, licking up every drop of him and spending an extra moment flicking her tongue across the contours of his hips. His body was just so fucking perfect, like a sculpted god. 

His eyes shot open, staring at her in amazement. 

“I didn’t get a chance to taste you,” she said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Her hand was still between her legs, rubbing small circles on her clit as she laid back down beside him. 

Vegeta observed her for a moment then ran his hand down her stomach. She moved her hand out of the way, allowing his fingers to begin exploring her. His index finger dragged between her folds before he began copying the motion he had seen her doing. 

“A little harder,” she said, sensing that Vegeta was afraid of hurting her. Her back arched when he increased the pressure. “Yes, just like that.” 

She could come just like this, just from having watched him fall apart at her hands before he touched her, but she wanted more. “Put a finger inside of me, like this.” She demonstrated.

Vegeta’s finger slipped inside her entrance, mimicking the motion she had shown him. Without prompting, he added a second finger and Bulma’s breath hitched.

“Fuck, that feels good, Vegeta. Keep doing that.”  She wrapped her arm around his bicep, her fingernails digging in, and ground herself against his hand. 

Bulma closed her eyes, relishing in his touch for a few moments before he pulled his hand away. Before she could ask what he was doing, he slid down the bed, coming to rest between her legs. His hands settled on her inner thighs, and she parted her legs to give him access. She felt the heat of his breath for just a second before he paused. 

“Please.” Her hips rolled, burning with impatience to feel his mouth on her.

Finally, his tongue flicked across her clit, sending tiny shockwaves through her body, the anticipation only adding to the intensity. The tip of his tongue danced on the head of her clit, and she grabbed his hair, pulling him into her.

“More,” she begged. His lips closed around her clit, alternating between sucking and quick flicks of his tongue. 

“Shit, you’re good at that. Fast learner,” she breathed. 

Spurred by her praise, he slipped two fingers back inside her. Her back arched and she pulled at his hair. “Fuck, Vegeta.” 

 It didn’t take her long to unravel, her legs shaking as she felt the tension building inside her.

“Holy fuck,” she moaned, clenching around his fingers while her body thrashed against him. He didn’t relent, licking and swallowing her as she ground against his face.

When she couldn’t take anymore, she grabbed his hand, gently prompting him to stop. His fingers slowed, giving a few gentle thrusts before leaving her. 

He looked up at her, face flushed and damp, sudden insecurity in his eyes. 

She let out a soft laugh, the vision of him between her legs, utterly destroyed and suddenly so lost was endearing.

“Come clean up with me,” she said, stretching out across the bed with a yawn before walking to the bathroom.

The yellowed tub/shower combo wasn’t exactly the sexiest thing to exist, but it was going to have to do. She turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up. Vegeta appeared behind her, his underwear back on. 

“Are you planning on wearing those in the shower?” 

His eyes widened, and Bulma was amazed that he could still be such a prude after what they’d already done. She stepped into the water, taking a second to let it wash over her, and then turned to him.

“Well?” she beckoned. 

Vegeta turned away from her before tugging down his underwear. He joined her under the water, his movements awkward and unsure. Bulma didn’t have the patience for it this time, not after he just had her writhing with pleasure. She turned to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing their naked bodies together. 

His arms gently encircled her, his hands resting on her lower back. 

“You’re a bit of a mystery,” she said, before giving him a brief kiss. 

“Is that a stab at some sort of awful joke about you being a detective?” Vegeta buried his nose in her hair, laughing softly. 

“Damn, you ruined it.” She ran her hands in small circles over his back. “But I mean it, two days ago I thought you were the most asinine, rude, condescending prick I’ve ever laid eyes on. And I still kind of think that. But that’s not all you are. You just don’t want anyone to get close to you.”

He didn’t respond, but the lack of a denial made Bulma believe she was right.

“But you let me in. Why is that?”

Vegeta rubbed the water from his face and slicked his hair away. His gaze was piercing, studying her. “I didn’t mean to.” 

His voice was harsh, but she didn’t let it discourage her. She grabbed the bar of soap and a washcloth, washing herself off first. Vegeta continued to watch her, transfixed. “Turn around; I’ll wash your back.” He did, and Bulma took her time scrubbing every inch of his back, her other hand resting on his shoulder. 

“Even if you didn’t mean to, you already did. And I’m glad you did, even if you’re not. This shitshow blizzard would have been a lot less fun if I was stuck with the raging asshole version of you.” 

Wringing out the cloth, she ran her hand down his back again, letting it rest on his hip. She kissed his shoulder.

“You actually want to help me.”

She paused, taking a moment to understand. “You mean with Freeza?”

“Yes. You’re the first person who didn’t forget I’m a goddamn person. That I’m not just some poor kid from a news headline.” He turned around to kiss her, crashing his lips against hers roughly. 

Bulma jumped back when the shower suddenly sprayed them with freezing water.

“Shit!” She yanked the handle to turn off the water. “Old fucking building.” So much for that moment. She doubted Vegeta would pick that conversation back up.

Vegeta grabbed towels, handing her one.

“Nothing against being naked with you, but I wish I had something cozy to change into. There’s not a single thing I have right now that doesn’t feel too gross to put on. Back under the covers, I guess?” 

Bulma dried off quickly, already feeling a chill in the air despite the heat working. Once she was dry enough, she crawled under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. Vegeta did the same.

“I really enjoyed that,” she said, moving closer to him. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.”

Vegeta nodded awkwardly but allowed Bulma to curl up against him, her wet hair sticking to his chest.

“And you’re so fucking muscular. It’s crazy. Everywhere I touch, it’s like I’m discovering a new muscle that I didn’t know existed.” 

She began tracing her finger along his arm, finding the beginning and end of each muscle, like she was working her way through a maze.

Bulma’s phone rang on the bedside table. She groaned at the second interruption before pulling her arm out of the warm nest of blankets. 

“What’s up, Goku?” She tried not to let the disappointment be too obvious in her voice.

“We’ve borrowed a truck so that Krillin can come get you guys. The roads are still pretty icy and haven’t all been plowed, so it’s probably best not to try to drive the car back yet.”

“What time?” Bulma had been desperate to leave last night, but staying wrapped in Vegeta’s arms was much more appealing at the moment.

“Give him about four hours, unless the roads are worse than we thought. ”

Okay, she could work with that. A lot could happen in that time frame.

“Can you guys do me a favor before you come here?”

“Sure, Bulma, what?”

“Clothes. Get something from the store or break into my house. I don’t care. For me and Vegeta.” 

Goku chuckled. “You got it.” 

Bulma hung up, quickly returning her arm to the warmth of the blankets.

“Better not waste time,” she smirked. “We’re probably going to need another shower before Krillin shows up and I don’t want to go out there with wet hair.” 

Vegeta looked at her confusedly, but she kissed the corner of his frown before he could speak. His eyes widened with realization as she pulled him closer. She took his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping at him before turning it into a kiss. She felt him growing hard against her hip and dipped her hand down to graze against him. Bolder this time, he broke the kiss and began to suckle at her neck, his teeth scraping across her soft skin. 

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” She gripped his cock tightly. 

“Fuck,” he growled, flipping so he was on top of her. 

He took her hardened nipple between his teeth, and she gasped. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and Vegeta looked up at her, needing to hear her say it before he continued. She brushed her thumb across his lips.

“Fuck me.” She met his eyes, her own filled with lustful intensity. 

He reached between them, lining himself up with her entrance, and pushed forward. He entered her slowly, his forehead dropping to meet hers, and gasped as he sheathed himself fully inside her. Their mouths were centimeters apart, hot breath combining. Bulma wanted to kiss him again, but the noises he made as he began to move were too arousing to stifle. 

Vegeta’s panting breaths were punctuated with short gasps and moans. He sped up, supporting himself with one arm on the bed, and his other hand found hers, lacing their fingers together. Bulma moved her hips to meet his thrusts and dug her heels into his back. 

“You feel so good,” she breathed. Her free hand splayed across his broad chest, feeling his uneven breaths and the contraction of his muscles. 

Vegeta pressed his lips to hers gently, and she felt his hips stutter. He was close. His eyes pinched shut and his hand squeezed hers tightly. 

“Bulma,” he moaned against her mouth.

Fuck, she wanted to ride the high with him. Quickly, she dropped her hand, maneuvering it between them to touch herself. 

“I want you to fill me,” she hissed into his ear. 

The primal look on his face is what sent her over the edge. She unraveled with him, her body electrified, and she grasped his hand tightly as she shook beneath him. Vegeta’s last few thrusts were hard and fast before he almost completely collapsed on top of her. She pulled her hand out from between them, wrapping it around his back to hold him close. Her other hand was still tightly entwined with his.

For a few moments, they lay in comfortable silence, hands lazily exploring each other’s bodies. Bulma was surprised by how relaxed she felt in Vegeta’s tight embrace. She closed her eyes, appreciating the moment. Unfortunately, her stomach growled loudly.

“Hungry?” Vegeta asked, rolling onto his side. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to move,” she complained. 

“We can finally microwave those cup noodles,” Vegeta pointed out.

“Oh hell yes!” Bulma said, stretching. That would be the closest thing to real food she’d had in almost two days. “Let me just use the bathroom real quick and then I’ll pop them in the microwave.” 

Bulma left the mess of blankets and pillows, thankful the room was slightly warmer now than it had been throughout the night. Vegeta blushed as she walked through the room naked, pointedly looking away from her.

“Dude, we had sex. You’re allowed to see me naked.”

His face was so red, that she suspected she could cook the ramen off the heat he was emitting. Maybe Vegeta could become a new heat source and save her money on bills. It seemed all too easy to embarrass him. 

With a giggle, she quickly closed the bathroom door, making sure he had no time to retaliate. After taking a moment to clean up, she opened the door again to see that Vegeta had gotten dressed. She snorted back a laugh and grabbed the ramen cups, filling them with water before popping them in the tiny microwave under the television. 

“Fuck, were there spoons or forks or anything?” she asked, not recalling having seen them in the bag of things Vegeta had acquired. 

“Shit,” he said. “I’ll go check the store again.”

Well, at least he got dressed for a reason. “Thanks,” she smiled, walking over to him and kissing his cheek. 

He ran out the door so quickly, it was as if he were fleeing from a volcanic eruption. Bulma shook her head before perching on the edge of the bed with one cup in her hand. She sipped some of the warm broth while she waited for him, momentarily considering how difficult it would be to eat it with her hands. She was starving. Thankfully, her patience lasted just long enough for Vegeta to return with some plastic-wrapped utensils. 

“Yes!” she cried, springing up to grab them. 

“Are you going to cover yourself?” he asked, averting his eyes from her bare breasts. 

“No, I hadn’t intended to. All of my clothing is gross. Krillin will be here soon with new stuff, so there’s no point getting dressed until then. Why? Does it bother you?” 

Vegeta took the other cup of ramen and sat on the bed facing away from her. “It’s fine,” he mumbled around a mouth full of noodles. 

—

Bulma had just finished blow-drying her hair when she heard a knock on the hotel room door. She wrapped a towel around herself, bypassing Vegeta to open the door. After double-checking through the peephole, she opened the door to Krillin. 

“Hey, Bulma,” Krillin said, eyes widening at her lack of clothing. 

“Hey! Thanks so much for coming. Did you get clothes?”

“Yeah,” Krillin said slowly, taking in the messy room. Vegeta had attempted to clean everything, but Bulma had repeatedly pulled him back into bed every time he got up. 

Krillin handed Bulma a bag of clothes from her house. She peeked in the bag and gave a short laugh. 

“I found some of Yamcha’s things at your house. I figured they’d fit Vegeta well enough. I’ll…uhhh...I’ll go wait in the truck while you two get ready.”

Bulma closed the door, took out her clothing, and handed the bag to Vegeta. She dropped the towel she was wearing to the floor, but Vegeta had already retreated to the bathroom. Krillin had done a decent enough job finding clothes for her, and she silently thanked his wife for training him properly. She pulled on dark, fitted jeans and a turtleneck and gazed at herself in the dusty mirror, deciding that she looked hot in anything she wore. 

“What the fuck is this?” Vegeta called from the bathroom.

“What are you talking about?” she said, feigning innocence. 

“Whose fucking clothes are these? What self-respecting man dresses like this?”

“My ex. Sorry, Vegeta,” she laughed. “It was the only thing he left at my house. There wasn’t anything else that would fit you unless you wanted a pair of leggings and a crop top.” 

The bathroom door opened, and Vegeta walked out in a bright pink button-up and a pair of yellow jeans. Bulma pursed her lips in an attempt to contain her laughter. It was never her favorite outfit on Yamcha, but it looked downright ridiculous on Vegeta, who’d most likely never worn a bright color in his life. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he growled, pulling on his boots, which made the outfit even more absurd. 

“You’ll be fine. We can get you something else once we get back in town, okay?” She laid her hand on his shoulder.

Vegeta shrugged her off, instead storming around the room picking up clothing and trash from the floor. Bulma sighed, quickly shoving all of her belongings into the assortment of plastic bags they had acquired. 

“Ready?” Bulma asked once she was mostly sure she had everything. “I’m going to go return the key.”

Vegeta nodded, grabbing a few bags and following her outside. Krillin waved at them from the driver’s seat of the truck and Vegeta got into the passenger seat as Bulma trekked to the motel office. The snow was still deep, but it seemed that someone had attempted to shovel the main pathways between the rooms. 

The office was empty and Bulma tossed the key into the dropbox on the counter and walked back to the truck. She pulled herself up into the backseat. 

“What’s the plan?” she asked Krillin as he began driving.

“Goku has been at Zarbon’s apartment most of the night, and it doesn't appear that Freeza has done anything other than take a few walks around the block and come back. Goku said the dude was up most of the night, pacing around outside like he was lost in thought. I can only imagine what he’s planning,” Krillin grimaced.

“I can tell you that Zarbon’s a fucking creep, too. I was sure he was going to lead us down some dark road and murder us in the woods, but I guess that isn’t his style. I’m not at all confident that he believed our cover story. I also don’t believe that he’s Freeza’s butler, which implies that Freeza doesn’t work alone.”

Vegeta’s permanent scowl had returned to his face, his arms once again crossed over his chest.

“Well, at least we know what we’re working with,” Krillin replied. “I think it’s probably best if we drop Vegeta off at home before we team up with Goku. There’s too much at stake to get a civilian involved.”

“Like fuck you will!” Vegeta snarled.  

“He’s barely a civilian,” Bulma laughed. “Closer to criminal, really. But in all reality, he’s been helpful. He deserves to see this through to the end.” 

Vegeta huffed in exasperation, and Krillin glanced over at him. 

“I’ll trust your judgment on this one, Bulma. But if anything goes south, know that it’s your ass on the line. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

“Yeah, Krillin. I think Vegeta’s help is worth the risk.” 

“Alright, but the first time he gets in the way, he’s done.” Krillin looked less than convinced.

“We’re not in a huge rush to get back to Goku, right?” Bulma asked, changing the subject.

“Not particularly,” Krillin responded. 

“Speak for yourself. We’ve been useless all night. I am sick of sitting on my ass.” Vegeta leaned up between the seats, glaring at Bulma.

“I wouldn’t particularly call what we did ‘sitting on our asses’,” she smirked. Vegeta’s mouth opened in horror, but no sound came out. “But what I was going to say is that we desperately need a hot meal. We can even eat it on the drive back if that suits you.” 

Krillin glanced at Bulma, eyes wide with confusion. “Yeah…we can hit up a drive-through,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowed.

“Perfect!” Bulma smiled. She turned on the radio, deciding to spare Vegeta any further torment.

—

Goku rushed out of the car when Krillin, Bulma, and Vegeta pulled up beside him. 

“Thank god! It’s been so boring! After pacing around town all night, Freeza hasn’t left once today. He must be sleeping in or something.” 

“Thanks for taking over, Goku,” Bulma said, smiling. “Do you want to go get some rest? We can  take over from here.”

“Nah! I’m too invested now. I’ll hang out with you guys.”

Bulma nodded, opening the passenger door of Goku’s undercover to join him. 

“I’m not sitting in the fucking back,” Vegeta said, scowling. 

Bulma rolled her eyes at him. “Krillin, are you joining us or heading back to the station?”

“I need to return this truck. I’ll stay at the station for now. Just call if you need anything.” 

“Thanks for rescuing us, Krillin. Would you mind holding onto my bags? They’re just going to get in the way.”

Krillin nodded before getting back in the truck and driving off. Bulma turned her attention back to Vegeta.

“How about this? We can sit in the backseat together,” she smiled, a glint of mischief shining in her eyes.

“Why would you sit in the backseat together?” Goku asked, looking confused. “If someone’s in the front, there’s more room to sprawl out in the back. This could be a long day.” 

Before Bulma could elaborate further at Vegeta’s expense, Goku’s eyes shot to the door of the apartment building across the street.

“That’s him!” Goku said.

Before they could be spotted, Bulma shoved Vegeta into the backseat and climbed in next to him.

Goku turned on the ignition, ready to move. “I hope he’s not going to pace around for hours. It was miserable trying to follow him without being noticed.” 

Goku didn’t have to worry for long; Freeza got in his car and pulled out of the driveway. Bulma’s heart began racing, the thrill of being so close to taking him down renewed within her. 

Once again, Freeza began heading toward the suburbs and Bulma feared they were in for another long drive. However, he turned before reaching the long road that led to Hullbeck. This had to be it; he had to be scoping out the location of his next victim. When Freeza parked his car, Bulma felt her stomach sink.

They were only a few blocks from Vegeta’s house.

A glance in Vegeta’s direction showed that he had come to the same conclusion. No one spoke as they watched Freeza exit his car, walk up the street, and stop directly in front of Vegeta’s house. Vegeta’s car still sat in the driveway, and Freeza looked around before peering into the windows. 

Vegeta stiffened, and Bulma knew this was torture for him. She sensed the risk of him being with them more than ever now. Discreetly, she reached her hand out and stroked his knee. Though he didn’t react, he didn’t push her away either. 

“Shit,” Goku murmured, and Bulma realized she had gotten distracted. 

Quickly, she turned her attention back to Freeza. He was walking around the side of the house, unlatching the gate to the backyard before disappearing out of sight.

“I wonder if he thinks Vegeta’s home,” Goku mused.

“I doubt it,” Bulma said. “I have a bad fucking feeling that he knows what Vegeta looks like and knows what we were up to last night. Vegeta looks a whole lot like his father.” 

“What the fuck is he doing?” Vegeta growled as Freeza left and walked back to his car.

“Damnit, we need another car,” Bulma muttered. “I’m calling Krillin. We need to drop Vegeta off at his house and have someone watch him and someone trail Freeza.” 

Bulma called Krillin, quickly explaining the situation as Goku followed Freeza back to West City, where he returned to Zarbon’s apartment.

Krillin met them a few blocks from Zarbon’s apartment in another undercover car. 

“We’re going to run out of cars soon,” Krillin joked. “I don’t love the idea that one of our nicest cars is sitting unattended at a shady motel three hours away. What’s the plan, then?”

“I’m going to take this car and bring Vegeta back to his house. I want to see what Freeza was doing in Vegeta’s backyard, and then if everything seems safe enough, I’m going to leave Vegeta there and watch his house for the night. You two can keep tabs on Freeza and call me if he’s returning to Vegeta’s house.” 

Krillin nodded, getting in Goku’s car. “Be safe, Bulma. If Freeza does go back, don’t do anything until we get there.”

“Yeah,” Bulma said, her mind drifting through possible scenarios. Vegeta’s unpredictability was very very worrying. 

Vegeta got out, switching into the passenger seat.

“You’ve been quiet,” she noted as she began driving back to his house. 

Vegeta grunted, staring out the window. 

“We’re so close,” Bulma said, attempting to be reassuring. “If we’re right, and he’s after you, we’ve got the perfect set-up to catch him red-handed.” 

Vegeta didn’t talk for the rest of the drive and Bulma didn’t push him to. This was a lot for him, and she felt a little guilty for having sex with him. Though he would never admit to it, he was definitely in a vulnerable state of mind. She parked in his driveway, nervous despite knowing that Freeza wasn’t around. If he wasn’t working alone, there was a chance that one of his conspirators was watching Vegeta as closely as her team was watching Freeza. But if that were the case, they would see her anyway, no matter where the car was parked. The thought made her shiver more than the biting cold of the air as they walked to Vegeta’s front door. 

“I’m going to look around and see what Freeza was up to in your yard,” she told Vegeta. “Don’t touch anything until I’ve checked it out, okay?”

“Fine.” 

Bulma unlatched the gate, Vegeta following on her heels. “Does anything look different, like Freeza may have touched it or messed with it?” she asked.

Vegeta dragged his eyes across his small backyard, looking for any signs of Freeza’s presence. “Nothing.”

Bulma nodded. “Alright, let’s go inside for a minute and talk about a plan. I want to scope out the layout of your house, too.”

“You aren’t coming inside my house,” Vegeta said, eyes narrowed. 

“Are you serious? You’ve been inside me. I can go inside your house.” 

He stammered, no words managing to form, and pulled his keys from his pocket. He unlocked the back door. 

Bulma wasn’t exactly sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. His house was completely barren, like no one lived there at all. The backdoor had brought them into his kitchen, which was immaculately clean, despite the outdated cabinets and appliances. Yellowed vinyl flooring ran the length of the kitchen, and a plastic table with a folding chair was tucked into the corner. Trying not to show her bewilderment, Bulma brazenly walked into the living room. A single armchair was tucked into the corner with a small TV sitting on a table in front of it. Not a single decoration, picture, or personal item was visible. How could he manage to live here? There wasn’t a single book, picture, or anything that showed that he was a person. 

Awkwardly, Vegeta grabbed the folding chair from the kitchen and sat it down in the living room, gesturing for Bulma to sit, as he sat in the armchair, his leg bouncing. 

Not wanting to dwell on Vegeta’s sad living situation, Bulma launched into business. “Okay, I want you to try and do whatever you normally do during the day today, go to bed at your normal time tonight, and try not to act like you’re waiting for Freeza. He’s probably onto us, but on the off chance that he isn’t, let’s not be suspicious. I’m going to move the car down the street and keep an eye on your house. I’ll call you if I see anything or if the plan changes, so keep your phone near you. And don’t fucking dare do anything if you see Freeza. We’ve got this.”

Vegeta scoffed. “If Freeza gets here before your idiot friends, I’m not playing by your rules anymore.” 

“Well, that’s not going to happen. We need Freeza to get in and make his intentions clear, but we’ll be right behind him. You won’t be in danger.”

“I don’t give a fuck about being in danger.”

“Well, then there’s no problem here. Do whatever it is you do and let me do my job,” Bulma said. “Before I go, give me a tour of the house so I know where everything is.” 

Vegeta stood up and wordlessly stalked down a dark hallway. Bulma jumped up to catch up with him as he was opening one of two doors in the hallway. 

“Bedroom,” he grunted. Like the rest of the house, it was empty except for a perfectly made twin bed and an assortment of weights stacked neatly along the wall. 

He turned on his heel, opening the next door to reveal a tiny bathroom, adorned only with a stark white, plastic shower curtain. 

Bulma walked through the house, noting the locations of the windows and doors in case she needed to get in quickly. When she finished, she turned her attention to Vegeta. 

“Hey,” she said, eyes softening. She dared to put her hand on his arm. “We’ve got this. Don’t worry.” 

He took a step away from her and her hand fell lamely back to her side. “I’m not worried. Go do your job,” he bit. 

Bulma smiled at him warmly despite his lack of reciprocation before she turned and walked out the front door. 

----

Chapter Text

Zero Days Until Christmas 

It had been the most boring afternoon of Bulma’s life. Without anything to keep her busy, she had resorted to an audiobook on her phone, but it struggled to hold her attention. She’d spent every few minutes nervously glancing at Vegeta’s windows, wondering what he was thinking. She’d texted him a few times to check on him, but they went unanswered, so she eventually gave up. 

The worst part of it all was that she had no snacks. She was fucking starving. The only thing she had found in the car was a few bottles of water that Krillin must have packed and some granola bars. What was it with these men and fucking granola bars? She’d spent close to twelve hours in this car, devoid of any social interaction, and she decided that she would rather face Freeza alone and unarmed than spend any more time staring at nothing. At least Vegeta had managed to keep her entertained the previous night. 

She hoped that Vegeta wouldn’t fuck this all up. She hadn’t seen any kind of weapons in his house, but she doubted that he was the type to leave them out in the open. It was more than likely he had something stashed away. One wrong move and Vegeta had an unlimited amount of ways to screw this up. She wanted to trust that he was smarter than that- he was clearly intelligent, but she’d seen what his temper made him capable of. Now, she wasn’t just worried that he would fuck up the case; she was worried he might get hurt.

When her phone rang at three a.m., she jumped at the sudden interruption of quiet, and her water bottle spilled down the front of her shirt.

“Shit,” she mumbled, fumbling to pick up her phone. “What’s up, Goku?” Her voice was hoarse after staying up all night. It had absolutely nothing to do with the chain-smoking she had been doing to stay awake. 

“Bulma, Freeza left. We were following, but there was ice on the road. The car spun out. We’re fine, but we lost sight of him. We have to push the car out of a ditch, but we’re coming as fast as we can. Do not do anything until we get there, okay?”

“Fuck!” Out of habit, she lit another cigarette. “How far ahead of you is he?” 

“It won’t be more than a few minutes. Promise me you’ll wait?” Goku sounded concerned, and it was quite honestly justifiable. Bulma wasn’t going to wait for backup if shit went down. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. 

“Yeah, fine. Just hurry up,” she said, anxiously tapping the cigarette’s ashes out the car window as she disconnected the call. 

There was a new dilemma. Did she tell Vegeta? She wanted him to be able to defend himself if things got ugly, but she also didn’t need him murdering Freeza before they had gathered any proof. She doubted he was asleep anyway. Who would be able to sleep knowing they were the next target for a murderer? Fuck it. She tapped his contact, but unsurprisingly he didn’t answer.

“Hey, asshole,” she said to his voicemail. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but it’s go-time. Hope you fucking check your messages.”

“Idiot,” she sighed under her breath after hanging up. She threw the cigarette butt out the window. 

How long would it be before Freeza got there? She started to calculate, knowing Vegeta lived about 45 minutes from West City, but realized that Goku had failed to tell her exactly where they had lost track of Freeza. It could be mere minutes before Freeza showed up. 

As she was about to call Goku for clarification, she saw the flash of headlights turn up the quiet road, casting eerie shadows onto the thick snow that covered a nearby yard. She quickly cut her engine, crouching low in her seat as the car crept up the street. Unsurprisingly, she recognized Freeza’s car. Her heart felt like it was beating bruises into her ribs. 

Quickly, she holstered her gun and put her cell phone into her pocket. If Freeza so much as knocked on Vegeta’s door, she was going to spring into action. Fuck waiting. She didn’t need Goku or Krillin. This was her case and they’d already done too much, anyway. Arresting Freeza was her fucking right. 

Freeza parked his car a few houses from Vegeta’s- thankfully in the opposite direction of Bulma. When she had seen him last, he had been dressed in his business clothing. Now, he wore a long, dark coat and gloves. In his hand was a piece of fabric that Bulma assumed was the mask he wore. Each step he took towards Vegeta’s house filled her with inexplicable dread. Why didn’t he answer his motherfucking phone?

Freeza reached the gate to Vegeta’s yard– the same one he had opened earlier that day. He went into the yard quickly and opened Vegeta’s back door in just a few seconds. It seemed he had picked the lock very quickly. He must have been figuring out what he needed when he was in Vegeta’s yard. As soon as Freeza was inside, Bulma raced out of the car to Vegeta’s house, pressing herself against the front of his house, away from the windows. 

Freeza would be in the kitchen right now, at least for a few more seconds. If Vegeta was in his bedroom, he may not have heard him break in. But if he was in the living room? He was probably already face-to-face with Freeza.  Bulma dared to peel herself off the wall long enough to glance in the window.

Just as she feared, Vegeta was right there, staring Freeza down as he approached him. Even if she had intended to wait for Goku and Krillin, there wasn’t time. Drawing her gun, Bulma decided the best method of entry would be through the same backdoor that Freeza used. That way, she would at least be behind him, with nothing between her and the door in case things went South.

As she crept along the house toward the gate, a shadow suddenly loomed over her.

“Well, it seems my instincts were right all along. It doesn’t seem like you’re sitting comfy in your North City motel.” 

Fucking Zarbon. Too worried for Vegeta’s safety, she had failed to consider that Freeza wasn’t alone. But it appeared he’d brought his guard dog with him. Goku and Krillin needed to hurry up. 

“What are you doing here, Zarbon?” Bulma asked, attempting to keep her voice level.

“I think I could ask you the same thing. I have a hard time believing that the man in this house is your husband. Or that you were visiting family in North City. What are you doing here, Bulma?” 

Bulma drew her gun, aiming it at Zarbon. “Let me walk away and we won’t have an issue.” Not until Krillin and Goku arrived, at any rate.  

Zarbon chucked, “Nice try.” 

Searing pain radiated down Bulma’s head, and she realized too late that Zarbon must not have been alone. Someone had approached her from behind and hit her with something. Her vision was fuzzy and tunneling as she fought against her slipping consciousness. She couldn’t quite tell, but she thought she might be on the ground.

“Get away from her!” 

Vegeta. That was Vegeta’s voice. She tried to talk, to tell him to get away, to wait for Goku, but her thoughts were sinking like quicksand. 

There was some sort of commotion, but she couldn’t fight it anymore and fell unconscious.

—

When Bulma came to, she couldn’t figure out if seconds or hours had passed. The bright flashes of red and blue lights fought their way past her closed eyelids, alerting her that Goku and Krillin had arrived. Despite the stabbing pain in her head, Bulma forced her eyes open. The snow was stained with blood, but it appeared that she was alone. Was the blood hers?

As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was in Vegeta’s backyard. She inventoried her body, not finding anything particularly painful besides her head, which was fading into a throbbing ache. Deciding she was okay enough, she pulled herself up, using the ledge of Vegeta’s window for support. 

Her eyes caught the action inside the house through the window. It felt like her body was moving in slow motion, while the scene before her was moving at double speed. Vegeta was pinned to the floor by Zarbon and a larger man, while Freeza came at him with a knife. Vegeta looked like a caged animal, thrashing and spitting with rage. 

Bulma ran to the door, flung it open, and sprinted through the kitchen.

But it was futile. 

The knife was driven in Vegeta’s chest, his instinct to fight back only pushing it in deeper as he roared in pain.

“You thought you could hide from me. You look just like your pathetic father. I would know who you were from a mile away,” Freeza sneered as he pulled the knife out of Vegeta’s chest.

Bulma reached for her gun, ready to put an end to this, only to find that it must have been taken by Zarbon. Where the fuck were Goku and Krillin? They must have only just pulled up when she was coming to. 

“Oh, look who decided to join us,” Zarbon said, noticing Bulma, who now stood helplessly at the edge of the room. “You must not have hit her hard enough, Dodoria.”

Dodoria let out an annoyed huff, walking towards Bulma. He was slow-moving, but quite large. She could easily outrun him, but leaving Vegeta was out of the question. Freeza had drawn back the knife again, ready to inflict more pain upon Vegeta who was gasping for air and already drenched in his own blood.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to make a decision. Goku rushed the front door, kicking it open with enough force to break the lock and splinter the door itself. 

Krillin was shouting for them to put their hands up, but Zarbon drew Bulma’s gun. Krillin didn’t hesitate to fire his own weapon at Zarbon, taking him down before he could manage to pull the trigger. Goku leapt at Freeza, pushing him away from Vegeta. 

As menacing as Freeza appeared, Goku was infinitely stronger and quickly had him handcuffed face down on the ground. Now only Dodoria remained. He was moving toward the front door, attempting to escape, but Bulma decided to take this into her own hands, unwilling to let the man who knocked her unconscious be the one to escape. 

“Give me your taser!” she shouted at Krillin, who responded immediately, sliding his taser across the floor to Bulma. She grabbed it and discharged it at him. Dodoria fell to the ground.

Caught up in the moment, she hadn’t looked at Vegeta. Or maybe it wasn’t that she was caught up in the moment. Maybe she was terrified, her blood running colder than it ever had in her life. She pinched her eyes shut as Krillin and Goku were reading the two men their rights, counted to ten, and then looked at Vegeta. 

He wasn’t moving. She rushed to his side, the action in the room turning into a blur around her. Collapsing to her knees, she realized he was clinging to consciousness.

“Vegeta,” she gasped, frantically putting her hands over the bleeding wound on his chest. “Call for an ambulance!” she shouted, hoping Goku or Krillin’s hands were free enough to use their radios. 

She pressed down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He cried out in pain from her touch, but she didn’t relent. He’d already lost too much blood, a puddle forming around him. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ve got them. You did it, Vegeta.”

Hot tears trickled down Vegeta’s face, and Bulma pretended not to see them. 

There was too much fucking blood. The pressure she was holding wasn’t going to be enough; blood oozed between her fingers and soaked her hands.

“Is the ambulance coming?” Bulma shouted.

“Two minutes out,” Krilin responded, before he opened the front door.

Bulma turned to watch as Krillin guided Dodoria to the back-up that had arrived outside to bring them to the station.

Bulma breathed a sigh of relief. Vegeta could survive for two minutes. He’d be fine. He was still conscious. And Freeza’s reign of terror was fucking done.

She felt it before she looked back at him. The erratic rise and fall of his chest against her hand suddenly stopped. He wasn’t breathing. 

Two minutes was suddenly a very long time.

“Goku, he’s not breathing!”

Freeza let out a cruel, callous laugh. “I never leave a job unfinished.” 

“You know what to do, Bulma,” Goku said, voice calm despite the chaos around him. As soon as Krillin returned, he and Goku walked Freeza out of the house.

Of course, she knew CPR, but at that moment she wasn’t sure if it was the right answer. Her hands were holding in what little blood was left inside Vegeta’s body. If she started compressions, he might bleed out. She needed another set of fucking hands.

Fuck it. She released her hands to pull off her shirt, wadding it up over Vegeta’s wound. She realized this was the second shirt she lost to Vegeta’s blood in less than 48 hours and let out a short laugh, frantic laugh.

Deciding it was more important to keep Vegeta’s blood in his body, she used the shirt to resume holding pressure. CPR would be useless if there was no blood to circulate. 

She could hear sirens in the distance, but she felt herself panicking. What if Vegeta died, alone in the house with her hands desperately trying to hold him together? Zarbon’s lifeless body wasn’t making her feel any more reassured. 

“Come on, Vegeta. Just a few more minutes. We’re so close.” 

The siren was close now, definitely on the street. Bulma leaned forward, kissing his pale forehead. 

The paramedics flooded the room, forcing Bulma out of the way as they assessed Vegeta, loaded him onto a stretcher, and carried him away. She knew the crime scene crew would be here any minute, and she would have to do her job. Finish this fucking investigation. Go to the station and interrogate Freeza. That’s why she was here to begin with.

But that’s not what she wanted. She wanted to run after him, follow the ambulance, sit in the hospital like some scared, pathetic girlfriend. Who does that after a one-night-stand? But he was alone and he would continue to be if she wasn’t there. He had no one. 

Someone that Bulma vaguely recognized as being a crime scene tech arrived. She opened her mouth to start giving directions, but all that came out was a choked sob. The tech looked on in confusion as she rushed outside, hand covering her mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. She must have been a sight- shirtless and covered in blood.  As the cold air hit her face, she took gasping breaths, attempting to pull herself together. 

She pulled out her phone, calling Krillin. Her decision was made. There was nothing more important than making sure Vegeta wasn’t alone. Not after spending so much of his life alone, not after everything he’d been through. She’d be there for him, even if he couldn’t admit that he needed someone. 

“Krillin,” she started, another small cry escaping. “I have to go. I need to find out what happened when I was unconscious. I need to wash my fucking hands. I need a shirt.”

“Bulma, I’m surprised you’re still there. I’ve already sent someone else to cover for you. Did the paramedics look at your head?”

Confused, Bulma’s hand drifted to the back of her head. Fuck. Her hair was soaked in blood and this time it wasn’t Vegeta’s. Dodoria must have hit her with something heavy as hell. Suddenly aware of her own body, she let out a whimper of pain. 

“No. They were pretty busy with Vegeta,” she murmured, shocked that it took this long for the pain to set in. 

“Alright, hang on. You need to have your head looked at. You probably need stitches.”

Bulma glanced into the backyard, realizing the blood she saw in the snow must have been her own. 

“I texted Lazuli. She’s going to come get you, okay?” Krillin asked, concerned. “Or do you want an ambulance?”

“No, I’m fine. I can drive myself to the hospital.” It wasn’t the best idea, but she wasn’t waiting around for someone to drive all the way out to the suburbs and then back to West City. With the lights on in her undercover car, she could make the drive take less than half an hour.

“Bulma, you looked rough. Are you sure?”

“I’m fine now, Krillin. I just probably need a stitch or two. I’ll catch up with you later.” 

Bulma hung up before Krillin could protest. She reached into the pocket of her jeans, thankful that her car keys were still there. Ignoring the pain as best she could, she walked to the car and began the fast paced drive to West City Hospital. 

—

“Alright, Ms. Briefs. You’re good to go. I’ll have them give you a list of the signs of a concussion to keep an eye out for. Do you have someone who can stay with you for the next twenty four hours?” 

“I actually need to check on someone here,” she said, distractedly. 

She hadn’t been able to check on Vegeta since she had gotten to the emergency room. She had been whisked away by a nurse from triage, had some of hair shaved, and now sported five stitches in the back of her head, a diagnosis of a moderate concussion, and wore a scrub top the nurse had given her since she had arrived in just her bra.

“Alright, Ms. Briefs. Please get some rest. That was quite a nasty hit you took.” 

Bulma nodded, standing up and exiting the exam room. She wandered back to the front desk, thankful that the hospital seemed quiet.

“Hi, again,” she said, attempting to smile past the pounding in her head. “I need some information about a man that came in by ambulance before me.” She fished around in her bag, pulling out her badge. 

“Of course. Do you know his name?” 

“Vegeta Prince.” 

The nurse typed into her computer, before frowning. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to interview him today if that’s what you’re here for. He just got out of surgery and is in recovery.” 

A wave of relief washed over her. He was alive. “Of course.” Bulma concocted a story as quickly as her sluggish brain would allow. “He actually saved my life this morning. I wanted to thank him. Is there any chance you could tell me where he is?”

The nurse frowned slightly, thinking. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Just be quick.”

Bulma smiled, listening to the directions to get to Vegeta’s room. 

She found Vegeta’s room quickly and slipped inside without being noticed. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she saw was shocking.

Vegeta’s chest was wrapped tightly in bandages; he was connected to so many different wires and tubes and beeping machines. Thankfully, he was breathing on his own. Bulma quietly dragged a chair up to his bedside, taking his hand in hers. He was still so pale. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she whispered, bringing her lips to his knuckles. 

Her head still pounding, she closed her eyes and rested her head on his bed, trying to escape the bright lights of the room. 

“Me, too.”

Bulma’s eyes shot open.

“You're awake,” she said, a broad smile across her face. His eyes were still closed, but she saw the faintest hint of a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was stabbed in the chest.” 

“Fair enough.”

“How’s your head?” 

“It feels like I was hit with a baseball bat. I have a fashionable new bald spot, too.” Bulma rested her head back on the bed and ran her fingertips along Vegeta’s arm. 

“You were. A metal bat, too.” Vegeta let out a long breath. “I got a few good punches in for you.”

“I tased him if it makes you feel better.” 

Vegeta let out a soft laugh. “It really does. I thought he fucking killed you.” 

“Well, I thought Freeza killed you,” she said, squeezing his arm gently. 

“I was dead for a few minutes in the ambulance. And again in the operating room if my surgeon is to be believed.”

“Fuck, Vegeta. I’m really glad you’re not dead. What the fuck happend?” 

“I’m too fucking tired to tell you the full story, but I'll give you the short version. Dodoria clocked you. I saw it, punched Freeza in the face, punched Dodoria around the ears, and then got fucking dragged back into the house by Zarbon. Freeza told me he knew all along who I was. He’s been watching me for years, waiting for the right time to ‘finish the job’. Bulma, I’ve been fucking paying him. I’ve been writing goddamn checks to that bank for as long as I can remember to pay off Saiyan Industry’s debts. He’s running some kind of scam.” The longer he talked, the weaker his voice became.

“You can tell me it all later, okay? That’s all I need for now.” 

“What about the evidence?”  Vegeta asked, seemingly ready to fight through the pain to give her more details.

“I’m not here as a detective, Vegeta. I’m sure some other B-List detective is going to be by tomorrow to get the full scoop, but I’m off the case.”

“What? Why the fuck are you here, then?” 

“For you, dumbass. Because I’ve been sick to my stomach worried that you were dead for the past three hours. I needed to make sure you were okay.” 

“Well, I’m clearly just fucking fine. You can go back to your job.” Insecurity rang through his voice. He was too afraid to let himself think that Bulma was really here for him without some ulterior motive. 

“I told you, I’m off the case. Someone else is finishing it. I’m staying here with you,” she paused. “That is if you’ll let me.” 

Vegeta opened his eyes, turning his head slowly to look at her. His fingers weakly squeezed hers. “Fine. You can stay if it makes you happy.”

Chapter Text

New Year’s Eve

Six days in the hospital had been pure torment for Vegeta, even if he spent the first few mostly unconscious. Bulma didn’t leave the hospital the entire time. Part of her felt guilty for dragging Vegeta into this, though Freeza seemed to have already had Vegeta marked as his next victim. If she had paid more attention to her surroundings, Vegeta wouldn’t have risked his safety to save her. 

But it was so much more than that. 

She couldn’t imagine leaving him trapped in a hospital bed, the odds of dying greater than the odds of living, with no one rooting for him to get better, no one asking the doctors and nurses what was happening when he couldn’t ask for himself. 

Krillin didn’t quite understand Bulma’s desire to stay in the hospital and give up Freeza’s case to another detective, but he willingly brought her a bag of her clothing and toiletries, as well as her laptop. She’d finished up the case notes while Vegeta slept, forwarding them to the new detective on the case. They seemed competent enough and Freeza had proved his guilt without a doubt. Of course, she would need to testify in court, as would Vegeta, but they’d cross that road when they got there. For now, she was content to take a leave of absence from work and live off of the far-too-kind Christmas check her parents had given her. Which she had promptly withdrawn from the bank and transferred to another. She would never be setting foot in that institution again. 

Goku had come to visit Vegeta a few times, though Vegeta pretended to sleep whenever he was there, even if he had just been talking to Bulma moments before he walked in. Ever persistent, Goku would sit on the small couch in Vegeta’s room, talking casually with Bulma for hours. 

When Vegeta was well enough to go home, the doctors were concerned about his living arrangements. If he were to go back to living alone, they weren’t willing to discharge him. Bulma offered for him to stay at her house while he finished recovering. Of course, he was appalled by the idea of relying on someone else, but eventually conceded when his other option was extending his hospitalization. 

He’d been in Bulma’s house for just over 24 hours when Bulma was reminded of her New Year’s Eve plans by the caterer dropping off food. She stood in her kitchen unpacking the containers when she heard footsteps.

“Are you serious, Vegeta?” Bulma screeched. “You were dead a week ago. Why are you up right now?”

“I cannot lay in that bed for another second,” he groused, attempting to hide the obvious pain he was in as he used the hallway wall to support himself.

“You got discharged from the fucking hospital yesterday. Go back to bed.” Bulma rushed to his side, wrapping her arm around his waist to help him to the couch.

His chest was still wrapped tightly in bandages, but sickly green and purple bruises covered his body. A drain was still in place from his surgery, which seemed like nothing to Bulma after the gruesome state she saw him in while he was in the hospital. Nevertheless, with only a loose pair of shorts on, she could see almost every mark that marred him and it made her stomach clench. 

Despite the resolute look on his face, his breathing was heavy and his skin clammy. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d popped a stitch.

“I’m fine.”

“Well, bad news. I forgot I had planned on hosting a party tonight. Everyone is going to be over soon,” she said gently, placing her hand on his arm and sitting beside him. “I highly doubt you want to be at a party.” 

“Is there food?” 

“Yes, there’s food. How about I make you a plate and bring it to you in bed?” 

“I’m sick of being in bed,” he repeated stubbornly. 

“Christ, I should have let them keep you in the hospital. ‘Sorry doctor, there’s no way I can look after a headstrong asshole who doesn’t care if he lives or dies.’” Despite her teasing, she took his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips. “Seriously though, Vegeta. You have to take care of yourself. You can sit on the couch for a while, but don’t you dare get up again without help.” 

Vegeta groaned. “I’ll stay on the fucking couch, okay?” 

“Fine, I’ll get you clothes.” 

Bulma marveled a bit that he wasn’t turning tail at the mention of socialization while she rifled through the few items of clothes she had made Goku grab from his house. He must be lonely without her at his bedside every second like she was at the hospital. 

She grabbed a  T-shirt and a clean pair of shorts, carefully selecting something that looked loose enough for her to get him into it without him needing to move too much. 

“Does this work?” she asked, holding up the black T-shirt. 

He nodded. Gently, she pulled it over his head and helped him put his arms in the sleeves, frowning as he hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. 

“It’s nothing.” He stood up, as if to show her that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him, and changed his shorts. When he sat back down, his face had grown pale. 

Before she could chastise him, the doorbell rang. Bulma kissed his forehead before walking to the door. 

Krillin, Lazuli, Goku, and Chi-Chi had all arrived together, introducing a joyful commotion to her unusually quiet house. She hadn’t told them that Vegeta was staying with her. She greeted them all, genuinely happy to see them outside of the context of work, but she hesitated as she stepped aside to let them through the doorway. An awkward silence ensued when the group laid eyes on Vegeta. 

Bulma fished for something to say to break the tension, but Goku beat her to it.

“Hey, Vegeta! I didn’t know you were out of the hospital! You look great.” That last part was definitely a lie. Vegeta looked exactly how you’d expect someone a week removed from death to look. “Where’s the food?”

Bulma laughed, pointing Goku toward the kitchen where the catering she had ordered was only partially unpacked. 

“Sorry, I’ve been a little distracted today.” 

Chi-Chi quickly jumped in, plating the food in a neater way than Bulma ever would have. In an attempt to be helpful, Bulma grabbed a stack of paper plates and forks from her pantry. After everyone had made plates for themselves, Bulma began assembling one for Vegeta. Over the course of his hospital stay, Bulma had learned that the man had an insatiable appetite, but never touched junk food if he could help it. It made his purchase of nothing but granola bars during the stakeout make much more sense. 

Scanning the mostly unhealthy array of food she had ordered, she settled on chicken wings, some vegetables from the small veggie tray she had ordered mainly for the ranch dip, and shrimp. Just in case, she put a small helping of potato chips and dip on the corner of his plate. 

When she came back to the living room he was sitting on the couch in silence. 

“You can turn on the TV, you know,” she said, handing him his plate. 

Everyone began filing back into the living room with their plates, sitting on assorted chairs and ottomans in Bulma’s comfortably cluttered living room. She settled on the couch beside Vegeta and picked up the remote. 

“I think the New Year’s Eve special should be on by now,” she said, flicking through channels to find it. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’m more than content watching a handful of mediocre musical acts and sipping on some wine tonight. It’s been a crazy week and I think I want to start the new year in peace.” 

Everyone seemed to agree and Bulma went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and plastic cups. She passed them around, despite Chi-Chi’s look of distaste for Bulma’s choice in cups. There was still an awkward atmosphere, and Bulma took a slightly larger gulp of her wine to compensate before settling next to Vegeta. She was careful not to touch him, having quickly learned his overwhelming desire for privacy and hatred of public affection. 

Bulma wracked her brain for topics of conversation that didn’t involve work or Freeza or the fact that a frequent flyer of the county jail was sitting on her couch. This might be the worst party she’d ever hosted; she wasn’t sure if she could handle five more hours of this while they waited for the ball to drop. 

“So,” Krillin started, glancing in Vegeta’s direction. “When did you get out of the hospital?” 

“Yesterday,” Vegeta responded before popping a carrot stick in his mouth. 

Krillin nodded awkwardly. “I’m surprised you’re feeling up to driving over here for a party.”

Bulma grimaced. “He’s actually staying here. They weren’t going to release him unless he had someone to help him out.” 

“Oh,” Krillin said, sounding a bit concerned. 

“That’s really nice of you, Bulma,” Lazuli interjected, attempting to rescue the conversation. 

“It is,” Chi-Chi seconded. “Very generous to open your home.” 

Rage ran through Bulma. They saw Vegeta as beneath her. A charity case she took in. A sickly stray dog rescued from the shelter. 

She remembered him, naked and vulnerable in the shower, spilling his feelings. 

You’re the first person who didn’t forget I’m a goddamn person. That I’m not just some poor kid from a news headline.

Bulma stood up and marched to her front door, throwing it open. “You’re free to fucking go if Vegeta being here makes you uncomfortable. None of you fucking know him. He’s not here because I feel fucking bad for him. He’s here because I care about him. How about you have a conversation with him instead of talking about him like he’s not even in the room? ”

Krillin, Lazuli, and Chi-Chi looked sheepishly at Bulma, while Goku crossed the room to Bulma.

Gently, Goku closed the door. “Bulma’s right. Vegeta’s a good guy. You all need to give him a chance.” 

“He punched you in the face once,” Chi-Chi muttered under her breath. 

“And I let it go,” Goku said. “You should, too.” 

Goku took Bulma’s hand steering her back to the couch. She sat beside Vegeta who had turned a violent shade of red. 

“Sorry, Vegeta,” Krillin said. “That was rude of me. I’ve known Bulma for a long time, and sometimes she makes decisions I don’t always understand, so I worry. But, that was uncalled for. If Bulma trusts you, then I do, too.” 

Krillin extended his hand out to Vegeta. Momentarily, Vegeta stared and Bulma was afraid he wasn’t going to reciprocate and make the situation worse. Thankfully, Vegeta quickly shook Krillin’s hand. 

Lazuli and Chi-Chi looked less convinced but didn’t attempt to push back any further. 

Bulma noticed that Vegeta had eaten around the chips on his plate, setting them down on the coffee table. She grabbed one and popped it into her mouth. “Well, we obviously aren’t up for casual conversation while we watch TV.”

“You have a bunch of board games, Bulma. Why don’t we do that?” Goku suggested. 

Deciding it was the best plan, she retrieved a few games from the hallway closet. “Vegeta, you can pick the game,” Bulma said, setting them down on the table in front of him. 

Vegeta’s eyes scanned the stack. “I don’t know what any of these are.” 

“Of course, you are a fucking expert at Chess but have never played an actual game.” Bulma selected a game and set the others under the table. “The vibe of this party is already fucked, so we’re playing Monopoly. Welcome to your brutal introduction to board games.”

—

“Why the fuck would you pick that?” Vegeta asked, though there was a smirk on his face. 

“It’s a right of passage,” Bulma laughed. “Everyone has to suffer through a brutal game of Monopoly at least once in their life. 

There was some laughter from her friends as she cleaned up the game and tucked it away in the box. They had all lost brutally to Lazuli, who seemed to have an affinity for acquiring properties. 

Bulma stood up with a stretch, planning on getting another plate of food for herself. “Anyone else want anything?” 

Vegeta looked at her, an uncomfortable frown on his face. Bulma glanced at the clock- it was a little after eight. Bulma realized Vegeta needed his medication and to have his drain changed. She hadn’t had time to fall into a routine with him after being accustomed to it being done by hospital staff. 

Fuck, he would be humiliated if everyone found out he needed perfectly reasonable help after being stabbed in the fucking heart. 

“Hey, Vegeta,” she began, attempting to think on her feet. “Do you want to stretch your legs for a bit? You’ve been sitting for a while?” 

It wasn’t her best work, and it still put his injuries in the spotlight, but she was sure it was better than the truth in his mind. 

Slowly, agonizingly if she was being honest, Vegeta stood up. She wanted to support him, but helping him would be out of the question with anyone else watching. Goku looked on nervously, about ready to help steady Vegeta himself, but Bulma glared at him, shaking her head. Vegeta managed to right himself and began walking down the hallway. 

“I’m going to pop to the bathroom real quick,” she said, following him. 

Vegeta made his way to Bulma’s bedroom, where the things he needed were located. Bulma followed behind him, grabbing his arm as soon as they were out of view. She expected him to protest, but instead, he leaned into her. 

Once inside, he sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you doing okay?” she asked gently, not expecting a real answer, but willing to try.

Vegeta nodded, but his eyes were shut tightly in pain. 

Bulma gathered up the assortment of pills he needed, handing them to him with a bottle of water that was on her nightstand. 

“Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you up before midnight so you can celebrate with us,” she suggested gently after he had swallowed them. 

Again, she expected him to protest, but he nodded once more. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” she said. “Lay back.” 

Vegeta slowly lifted his legs onto the bed and reclined into the pillows. He’d given up hiding the pain that was written across his face. 

Bulma lifted his shirt, removed the bandages, and made quick work of emptying his drain. 

“It’s looking better,” she commented, as she reapplied a fresh bandage. 

Vegeta grunted, his eyes already shut. Bulma decided to lay beside him for a second; her friends could wait. She draped her arm across his waist, the one spot on his body that was free of bruises, and drew circles on his hip with her index finger. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t think about canceling this.”

“It’s fine.”

“I know you said that, but it’s me who’s not fine. I’d rather stay in here with you. I’m not in the mood for them tonight.” 

Vegeta opened his eyes to look at her. “Then tell them to leave, if that’s what you want.” 

Bulma considered it for a moment. It was only nine- she could hand them a few containers of food and wish them on their way. They could easily go to someone else’s house to finish their party. At the same time, she wanted to prove something to them. Make them understand that there was so much more to Vegeta than they realized. To make them understand that….she stopped herself from finishing the thought.

It wasn’t the first time it had crossed her mind, especially when things were touch and go at the hospital. But she’d only known him for such a short amount of time. Was it even possible? Could she be in love with a man whose throat she wanted to rip out two weeks ago? 

Her mind drifted to their night together in the hotel room. Obviously, they hadn’t been intimate like that again. But the type of intimacy they had now seemed even deeper than sex. 

Vegeta never protested her presence in the hospital. He was uncomfortable around her at first, but she made herself at home in the tiny room, talking to him constantly whenever he was awake long enough to listen and holding his hand while he slept. She was too self-assured to give him room to question the situation. It was obvious that he was scared, especially when he woke up in pain at night. He gave up trying to hide it from her after the first night and accepted the comfort she offered him without hesitation. The nurses and doctors all assumed she was his girlfriend and she didn’t bother to correct them. Neither did Vegeta. 

She looked at him. Despite how broken he was, she didn’t pity him. The doctors certainly didn’t; they were impressed by his tenacity, even though it sometimes bordered on reckless. Still, most people wouldn’t have survived what he went through. Her mind was made up.

“I love you,” she whispered, unsure if he was still awake. 

His eyes blinked open again, groggier this time, confusion painted on his face. He looked at her. 

“I love you,” she repeated. 

There weren’t words for the complex emotions that crossed his face. She realized he probably never had been told those words in his life, not since he was a child, anyway. Was the only love he’d ever known that of his departed family?

“You don’t have to say it back,” she rushed, realizing she may have gone too far, too soon. 

“You don’t mean that,” he said. “You’re confused.” 

Bulma sat up, taking his hands. There was no taking it back. “I do mean it, Vegeta. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I know it hasn’t been very long, but we’ve spent every moment of every day together for almost two weeks. I know how I feel about you. You’re determined. A fucking survivor. But you’re guarded, afraid to let anyone in in case you get hurt. But whether you meant to or not, you let me in. I understand you, Vegeta.” 

A stray tear stained his cheek, but she didn’t ignore it this time. Instead, she followed its path with her lips, replacing it with gentle kisses. 

“If you understand me, then you know how fucked up I am. Look at how your friends looked at me. I don’t deserve…” He trailed off, unable to speak the word ‘love’. 

“You’re not fucked up. Not to me. I don’t care what they think. They don’t understand you. And it’s their loss. I love you.” She kissed him, stoking his wet cheeks with her thumbs. 

Vegeta kissed her back, his hands touching her hips, despite how painful it was to move his arms. She broke the kiss, afraid he would hurt himself. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m going to tell them all to go fuck off so I can spend New Year’s Eve with my boyfriend.” 

Bulma quickly left the bedroom, her heart racing. 

“Sorry, guys. Vegeta isn’t feeling well. He should be resting. To be honest, I forgot you all were coming over or I would have asked you not to come. It’s too much for him.” 

“It’s no problem, Bulma. I’m just glad he’s doing okay and has someone to help him out,” Goku smiled, pulling Bulma into a hug. “Take good care of him,” he whispered in her ear.

Krillin patted Bulma’s back. “I trust your judgment, Briefs. I’ll keep you posted on Freeza’s trial. Take care of yourself.” 

Chi-Chi and Lazuli still looked unsure, probably having heard too many stories of Vegeta’s misdeeds from their husbands. Oh well, Bulma didn’t need their approval anyway. And she was sure they would come around with time. They both waved goodbye as they followed their husbands outside. 

As they walked down the driveway, Bulma heard Chi-Chi loudly ask Goku if Bulma’s house had more than one bedroom. It did not. Bulma laughed at the horror she knew would be on Chi-Chi’s face. 

Bulma realized she forgot to send them home with food. With a groan, she realized she needed to put it all away before it spoiled. She haphazardly combined the appetizers in Tupperware and put them in the fridge, then poured herself another glass of wine. 

When she returned to the bedroom, Vegeta was asleep. The medications he took had some sedative effects, so she knew he would be out for a while. She sat next to him, turned on the TV, and sipped her wine.

—

Bulma decided to wake Vegeta up at 11:50. He needed to make happy memories to make up for all the things he had suffered and she was going to start tonight. 

“Vegeta,” she whispered, kissing his temple and running her fingers through his hair. She sat beside him, cross-legged on the bed.

He stirred slightly but didn’t awaken. She said his name a little louder and he finally opened his eyes. 

“It’s almost midnight,” she smiled. “I wanted to start the New Year with you.”

She had poured a wine glass of juice for him since he couldn’t drink and held her glass of wine in her hand. This time, she used the nice glasses. 

She handed the juice to Vegeta who looked at it suspiciously. “It’s just juice,” she laughed. “Next year, we can have a champagne toast together.” 

“Next year?” 

“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” she said, combing her hands through his hair. “Have you ever made a New Year’s resolution?” 

“No.” His hand came to rest on her thigh.

“I don’t normally. But it feels right that we should this year.”

“What’s your resolution, then?” he asked.

“You know, I don’t know. But I thought of one for you, instead.” 

“I’m not an expert, but I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It’s not, but I’m going to tell you it, anyway. Freeza’s going to jail, Vegeta. I know the trial hasn’t happened yet, but the evidence is clear. You’ve spent your entire life watching over your back for him, knowing the man who took everything from you walked the streets. This year, I think your resolution should be to celebrate every fucking holiday. Starting right now. Even the tiny, stupid ones. Celebrate fucking Groundhog’s Day.” 

Vegeta pushed himself up to sit. “It doesn’t feel real. It all happened so fast. I thought some fucking black cloud would disappear when he was caught, but I just feel unsatisfied. Like there should have been some grand display that was forgotten.” 

“I know exactly what you mean,” she sighed. “It’s like that a lot. I’ve tracked criminals before for months and then the arrest is so fucking boring. You watch them get escorted off in handcuffs and then wait around for months for the trial. You’re right, it’s not satisfying. I wish I had something better to tell you, but I think from here on out, you need to make it better. Even if it wasn’t some cinematic revenge scene, you won. You survived his attempts twice . You get to celebrate that.” 

Vegeta seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a moment. “Fine. I’ll try and celebrate holidays,” he finally said. “But you don’t get away without a resolution. And I get to pick it for you.”

“I guess that’s fair,” she laughed, watching the midnight countdown begin on the TV.

“No energy drinks.”

“What the fuck? That’s not even fair. I gave you something so meaningful, tried to bring you joy, and you swoop in and take my joy from me.”

“My heart stopped twice this week. I’d hate to see that happen to yours. You’re not nearly as physically fit. I don’t know if you’d recover.” A wide grin spread across his face.

It took all of Bulma’s power not to smack the shit out of him. “You’re so lucky you’re injured right now or I would injure you myself.” 

“It’s midnight,” Vegeta pointed out, the sounds of celebration blaring from the television. 

Bulma leaned in, kissing him with everything she had to give. Her tongue danced with his and her hands tangled in his hair. 

Hesitantly, Vegeta pulled away, catching her lips with softer kisses as he did. He looked her in the eyes and picked up his glass of juice. Bulma did the same and clinked their glasses together. 

“Happy New Year,” she smiled, setting the glass back down.

Vegeta’s smile softened, and he met her eyes again. “Happy New Year, Bulma.” 

“I’ll give up my energy drinks if you celebrate with me,” she smirked. 

“Fine. I’ll do it to protect your weak heart from your obnoxious caffeine consumption.”

Bulma laughed and rested her head on his shoulder softly. 

Content, they sat for a few moments, watching the chaos of confetti and crowds on television, a song playing from some band as people kissed and danced.

Vegeta touched Bulma’s chin, tilting her head up to look at him. 

“I love you, too.”