Chinks in the Armor

Disclaimer: I don't own Bulma, Vegeta or Dragon Ball Z. Akira Toriyama created it, and Toei Animation Co. Shuisha Bird Studios owns it. This is fanfiction written for entertainment only and means no harm to the series.

Chinks in the Armor-Reunion

So sorry this is so late, people! I have had massive writer's block. I hope this cures it though! Vegeta returns to reunite with Bulma, and meets his son Trunks for the first time!
***

Up the stairs Vegeta marched, towards the source of Bulma's tiny ki, and that of something stronger. The brat was in another room, it's ki small, but at least above average for a human he thanked the Legendary for. He turned the knob of the door, and then let it creak open.

"Vegeta," answered Bulma, rising from her chair. She set the magazine aside. "You didn't have to scare the hell out of my friend!"

"She announced my presence I see," Vegeta nodded, fluidly advancing towards Bulma. She backed away a step or two.

"You... look like crap. What did you do to the armor I made for you?" Bulma scolded him, her arms wrapped around her body. Vegeta continued towards her, then in one motion caught her around the waist and she felt the wall against her back.

"I've done it," Vegeta whispered. Bulma's heart pounded, as Vegeta's hands grasped her shoulders and he leaned heavily into her.

"Vegeta... what are you doing?"

"I've done it. Taken all the rage and desire and turned it into a means of becoming Super Saiyan, Bulma. Now I can take back what's rightfully mine. Don't you see?" Vegeta laughed deeply, grinning maniacally down at Bulma pressed between him and the wall. She then realized he was merely looking for someone to share his victory with.

"Good for you, Vegeta," Bulma blinked up at him. A tear threatened to form in her eye, and she relaxed in his arms.

"But there's another reason I've come," Vegeta whispered into her ear, his arms sliding around to enclose her. So tightly did he grip that she was imprisoned in bands of titanium, his arms as substantial and unyielding as granite. Yet he did not crush her or harm her. Bulma lay her head on his shoulder and wished he would release her arms that were trapped between them.

"Would you mind backing up a bit," Bulma whispered, nuzzling at his neck.

"Why," Vegeta demanded. His dark eyes bored holes into her very soul at that moment.

"Because it's hard to breathe... for one... and you're crushing me..." she panted.

"Like this?" he smirked, reaching down to wrap his hand around one of her legs and pull it upward over his hip. Bulma felt the hardness of his pelvis against hers, pinning her in place as effectively as his iron grip.

"If you think that's going to help," she gasped, chest heaving against his.

"Depends on what you want 'help' with," Vegeta answered. Gripping her other leg he flung that over his opposite hip, till she totally depended on the pressure of his unrelenting body for support. Cracked and broken armor pressed to soft cloth covered flesh. All the irritations of dealing with him bombarded her nerves at once along with the thrill of his proximity.

Bulma realized she was glad to see the jerk after all. So acting on her base instinct she squirmed. "Trying to get away, woman?" Vegeta taunted.

"How can I put my arms around your neck if you're pinning me dork?" she complained.

"Always bitching, never satisfied. I've missed our verbal sparring matches... in the flesh," Vegeta countered. Easing up a bit he allowed Bulma's arms trapped between them to slid upwards over the contours of his hard muscle. Comfortably she crossed them behind his neck, rubbing the juncture of where his spiky cone of hair started and his bare skin began. Sometimes she had been terrified to stare into that burning gaze. Now she thought more of him as a peer, realizing he found a 'use' for her, and she was not in danger. Oddly enough she felt safe as when he had pinned her down all those months ago.

"My angry, arrogant Prince. You look damn hot when you're pissed," she allowed herself to confess. Tunneling fingers through his hair she caressed his scalp, and inhaled the scent of his musk like an aphrodisiac. Leaning forwards she nipped his nose, then along the angular cheeks while tightening her thighs around his waist. Vegeta purred deeply, his pleasure rumbling through his throat at her surrender. Months of separation had not diminished the fire between them; carefully fanned by their nightly astral trysts. On the surface both exuded an air of indifference, yet left to their own devices they lowered their hard armors.

"And you look uglier then ever when you're angry," Vegeta panted, nipping at her lips. Not breaking the skin his bites peppered her soft sensitive skin, then worked to the rip of her ear. There he sank his canines in to draw blood. Bulma gasped and rolled her head back to feel his tongue lapping up the result crimson trickle. Then when he had licked it clean and the clotting factor started, he grunted, bumping his head alongside her to present his ear to her.

Lightly she traced her tongue along the shell of his distinctive ear. Vegeta shuddered at the action of her tongue poking in, her hot breath boiling the blood rushing to the surface of his skin. He would never have admitted how quickly his heart thumped now in response to Bulma's probing and nipping at his ear. He could hear the sounds of her breath, and rested his nose against the hollow between neck and shoulder. His gloved hands ran along the underside of her thighs, squeezing her like ripe fruit. Bulma winced at the pressure that almost brushed, but loved his clumsy yet sincere attempts at contact.

Setting her teeth on the shell of his ear, she then bit down. Though far more puny and blunt then his teeth she broke his skin, allowing his own blood to seep into her mouth. As he had done minutes before she swallowed the small drops of his blood before his Saiyan immune system kicked in. He healed from his wounds far faster, and she had only a small taste compared to how much he had lapped from her bite. Drawing back she saw the healing nick on Vegeta's ear, evident that she hat put her mark on him as he had on her. Still it had not marred the overall effect of their handsome and attractive countenances.

She might have expected a vampire bite to the shoulder. Yet the rustling of Vegeta's thoughts in hers scolded her. Such actions were relegated to the barbaric third classes, not the well mannered Royalty. "You think I want human teeth marks in my flawless skin. Woman what are you thinking?"

"It sounds like it would have been fun. But I don't want a huge hickey on my throat either. What WOULD everyone think?"

"My point exactly," Vegeta grunted. Bulma nodded with a giggle, then seized his lips with hers. Vegeta haltingly responded to the pace of the kiss, his teeth nipping at her tongue a bit sharply at times. Then he twisted his lips to shove his jaw against hers, suckling hard at her mouth. Bulma shivered at the dominating gesture, reminding herself this was a human custom he was forcing himself to adopt. Stopping his kiss he then crushed her to his body, holding her possessively tight like a child claiming a plush toy as 'theirs'.

A thin cry pierced his ears, causing him to wince. Glaring at Bulma she returned his look of irritation at the sound of their son howling. "That brat makes a hell of a lot of noise," Vegeta winced.

"You could at least see what he looks like," she said. Vegeta released her, letting her slide down his body to plant her legs under herself again. Backing away she grabbed hold of one of his hands pressed to his hip, and tugged.

"Fine, but make it fast," he growled. "I am anxious to sate my physical needs before returning to training."

"Very romantic you are," she complained, jerking at his hand. Rolling his eyes Vegeta reluctantly followed her towards the door of her room. She dragged him down the hall by his hand to the increasing volume of crying. It could hardly be called 'crying' because it sounded like a yelling demand rather then misery. Words that had no form that were primally demanding attention.

He followed her through the doorway to a blue hued chamber. All over the ceiling and walls were painted dozens of stars in gold leaf, while a sun shaped lamp beamed overhead. Bulma switched it on, then tugged him towards the dominant centerpiece of the room: a large rectangular box covered with soft fabric bearing lambs and ducks and other 'cute' animals. Still the predominance of blue everywhere soothed his eyes at the same time the baby's cries caused him to grit his teeth.

"Hey there, little guy. Daddy's home," she said, pulling Vegeta and positioning him to look down as she leaned on the other side and reached down towards the squirming bundle. At first Vegeta wasn't sure what he was looking at, blanket or flesh or a red plump face. Wisps of light purple hair stuck out of what appeared to be a silly black cap with horns of all things like some idiotic earth animal.

"What the hell is it wearing on is head?" Vegeta commented, peering at the 'baby' with the detachment of a scientist looking at a specimen. Then the shape became recognizable and was suddenly a squirming little person, flailing his arms and pumping while his face flushed red with irritation.

"Is Daddy scaring you with that mean face of his, Trunksy wunksy?" Bulma cooed in a ridiculously high pitched voice that irritated Vegeta even more then the baby's crying. Reaching in she lifted the kicking bundle out and settled him into her arms.

"Doesn't it ever shut up?" Vegeta huffed, arms folded across his chest. Yet something akin to terror ran through his veins, along with numbness. How could that weak thing be his offspring?

He stood in place, watching Bulma wander over to grab a blanket and toss it over one shoulder. Then Vegeta glanced over his shoulder at Bulma unbuttoning her blouse to bare her breast. His eyes widened to see they were a size larger then he'd last seen them, burgeoning and ripe. Sitting down in the nearby rocking chair she positioned the baby's crying mouth at the rosy nipple and enticed it to feed. Vegeta wandered over, an expression halfway between disgust and fascination crossing his features.

Bulma reminded herself that a Prince never would see a baby or a nursery. Not in a society like Vegeta's. Perhaps the father would look at his newborn son and stand proud while the attendants whisked him off for care. There was so much she didn't know. Staring up at Vegeta she gave him her own look of frustration. Yet Vegeta was still here, standing cold and aloof yet looking at the baby they had made together.

"Hmm, it has the appetite of a Saiyan," Vegeta finally admitted. "But it looks NOTHING like a Saiyan child SHOULD look. And what's with the purple hair?"

"I guess not all Saiyan babies have black hair?" she glared at him. "You make it seem like MY Fault."

"It's as hideous as its mother," Vegeta grunted. "And just as weak and helpless."

"What did you expect? For Trunks to be drop kicking people? He's a baby, for crying out loud!!"

"A very HUMAN looking baby," Vegeta answered. Bulma's eyes narrowed and she almost gritted her teeth.

"Not like you were HERE to see it? His name is Trunks Vegeta Briefs, in case you wanted or cared to know..." she growled at him.

That low growl awakened something in him. Suddenly he felt a surge of energy from the baby in Bulma's arms, and two blue eyes opened to look up at her. Crystalline and sapphire, the exact shade of the woman who held him, Vegeta noticed. He watched Bulma turn her attention to nursing Trunks, a bit jealous of the intimate contact the brat had with the woman he would rather be fucking now.

Yet his inner sense suddenly realized the baby's energy level was rising. It was not his imagination to see a faint crackling in the air around Bulma. She was unaware of the faint energy waves traveling through her from the infant. Trunks. That name sounded so... unsaiyan. How could this baby be his offspring. Yet when those eyes happened to glance up in his direction, he saw the set of the brow. And the largeness of the child's forehead. It dawned on him that it was very familiar.

Bulma removed Trunks from her breast and laid him across her shoulder. Lightly she patted his back till a small burp exited his small mouth. Not speaking Vegeta continued to watch though he was almost on top of Bulma now. Taking him from her shoulder she moved him toward her breast again. Once more Vegeta peered into those deep blue young eyes and a realization jolted him. Only a child of Vegetasei had that bone structures to its face, covered as it was in human flesh he saw the deep penetrating glare. Striking over he stood directly by mother and child, and glared down at the baby. Although it continued to suckle, it was looking right at him. Rather HE was looking at him.

"Hmm, he has a respectable amount of ki," Vegeta reluctantly rasped. He changed the angle of his head, examining Trunks even more closely for the first time. Bulma recognized a sense of curiosity rather then disgust in Vegeta's eyes, and inwardly rejoiced.

"Hear that Trunksy. Daddy's finally getting that you might just be a Saiyan after all," Bulma cooed.

"Don't say that word, It's... ridiculous," Vegeta snapped.

"What? He's YOUR son, Vegeta!" Bulma retorted, her face twisting in near fury that Vegeta was rejecting their child.

"Just a minute! I was not going to SAY that! You presume incorrectly, Bulma. I don't wish you to refer to me as 'Daddy'. Rather Father. It is the Saiyan way. I'm no 'daddy'. What are you thinking," he snorted. Relief relaxed Bulma's face. She let out a breath, sighing and releasing the tension in her shoulders.

"Your Father, I mean, Trunks, is finally getting the message," Bulma babbled in that high pitched tone again.

"He may be my son, but that doesn't change things. I still intend to fight the Androids to the exclusion of all other things," Vegeta interrupted.

"I figured that was the case. I don't need your help looking after him, if that's what you mean," Bulma answered matter of fact. "It's the Saiyan way right? I mean I can't expect a Saiyan Prince to be here when there's fighting to be done."

"Good you understand how things are. I cannot be bound by petty attachments. When the boy comes of age, he will be trained as a Saiyan warrior. But the first few years are up to the brat's mother," Vegeta explained calmly. Bulma nodded, her arms curled around Trunks possessively.

"That's not a problem. Besides, you'd scare him with that ugly mug of yours anyhow. Always going around pissed off," Bulma teased.

"Humph," Vegeta grunted, turning slightly away. "Whatever you want. But you show good sense knowing how things should be."

"Thank you,' Bulma suddenly said.

"I beg your pardon? What are you thanking me for?" Vegeta responded, turning again to face his woman and their son.

"For coming to look at him, and accepting that he's your son, as well as mine," Bulma said.

"Idiot, did I not SAY he would be with you when I could not? Your task is to raise the brat and provide the petty emotional attachments I will not give," Vegeta sniffed.

"That's right, Trunks. Momma's going to take GOOD care of you while Daddy... I mean your Father is out fighting androids," Bulma cooed to Trunks. Glancing up at Vegeta she coughed.

"What?" Vegeta asked.

"I guess it's too much to ask for you to at least hold him," Bulma answered.

"It is," Vegeta answered. "I cannot give what you demand of me. That is not who I am. But he is my son. And that should be enough. I did not have to be here, but I am to see him."

"That's why I'm thanking you, silly," Bulma relented, standing up with Trunks still nursing. Leaning over she wrapped one arm around Vegeta and put the baby between them. Warmth from Trunks moved over to Vegeta, and he flinched a bit. Bulma gently kissed Vegeta's cheek, and then covered his lips in a soft sweet kiss.

"Will you be done nursing the baby soon?" Vegeta asked.

"Soon, your royal crankiness," she nodded, gazing at Vegeta with something he realized was affection. He accepted her, when he didn't think she would. She was highly intelligent, and would not demand more then he could give. Vegeta kept his arm around her, and pulled her and Trunks against him. For a second he held Bulma, but in a sense was embracing their son, though he'd never admit it in a million years.

From the crib to his woman he glanced. Weighing heavily on his mind was the realization that the upcoming war with the Androids was about to dawn. He did not wish this to be the darkest hour though. Some instinct compelled him to protect, yet the other training inside of him advised to push her away. Nobody was around to see him, but she had to understand.

Bulma clung tightly to his arm. She knew it would only be a matter of time before that armor was put to good use. Still scorched and cracked it could be repaired. Yet could this tenuous new relationship, whatever it was, be similarly treated? How many holes would be punched in it from the effort to maintain their respective pride.

"You accept me and Trunks. You accept he's your son. What does that make us?" Bulma asked, finally voicing the question she had dreaded.

"Bulma…" he whispered deeply.

Vegeta's eyes were unreadable. At that moment there was hardly a human expression present on that handsome face of his. Then something shone through and she realized how his hand was trembling as he let her and the baby go. He nudged her away, then she felt him pull the child from her arms and struggle to hold it. Her own hands shaky she positioned his gloved hand behind the lavender haired head concealed in a cap, while twisting his left arm around their son's body.

"He feels like he'll break in my hands. Yet he's surpassingly strong. I can feel it. Yes, he's fit to be my son," Vegeta grunted. "But I can't let this phase me, Bulma."

"Just once… you're holding him?" she blinked, tears forced back as she blinked blue lashes. Pulling the baby to him for a second he hissed a series of syllables in his language. Her very body ached. She comprehended not the words, but guessed it was a Saiyan equivalent of dedication.

"Just once. You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking doing this," he gritted his teeth, glaring down at those piercing sapphires. His jaw unclenched though when he heard the noises from his son grabbing at his gloved thumb. For a second he wondered why the boy examined him so, with such burning scrutiny. That penetrating stare hearkened to that of the image he saw in the mirror. Trunks had the very eyes of a warrior. Yet he did not want to admit that to Bulma. Untried in battle, his son would have to prove himself before Vegeta could offer more.

"You've past your first test. Surviving birth. But now you must survive your first year. Alone with your mother you must live. Till you're of age to be trained. Till then…" Vegeta trailed off, standing statue still with that warm body transferring its heat through even the breastplate of his armor.

Trunks gurgled, and accidentally flailed his arms. One of them landed against Vegeta's breastplate, causing the Prince to snicker. "I'd better give you back to your mother. Or else I could accept you just challenged me."

"Actually it's time for his nap. He always squirms like that when he's tired," Bulma offered, wandering over to touch Vegeta's arm. Already Trunks eyes were starting to close from Vegeta's standing there so still without over-stimulating him. Vegeta's silence was contagious. Oddly enough Trunks was falling asleep in his father's arms.

"Hmm," Vegeta mumbled, swiveling around with mechanical precision. He marched over, baby, and all in his arms towards the ornate crib. Slowly he reached over and lowered Trunks, after holding the baby like something foreign that frightened and fascinated him. Straightening up, he pulled the flimsy cover over after having put the boy on his back. Then he again turned to Bulma.

She knew well the hunger in his eyes. Wandering over, she extended her hand to him. "We've unfinished business, Bulma," he hoarsely informed her.

"Yes, I know," Bulma nodded. "He'll sleep if we're quiet…"

"Very quiet," Vegeta grunted, suddenly scooping her up in his arms and phasing out of the room. Only a faint puff of air heralded their exit.

***
Once in the safety of Bulma's adjoining suite, Vegeta pushed the door closed with the heel of one boot. Bulma did not seem worried, and he wondered what that small speaker device that made a crackling sound signified. It sat on the bedside table next to a pair of glasses and a picture frame. He set Bulma down on the bed, then momentarily turned to pick up the picture. Blinking he realized the candid shot that Bunny had snapped of him next to Bulma. Eyes widened to realize that it was only shortly after he'd recovered from the first GR explosion. Still wearing bandages he was, with Bulma leaning over him. Bunny had a strange idea of what to snap photos of. He remembered a few times she had clicked pictures of him eating, or training.

"Idiot," Vegeta mumbled. He pushed the photo so it was turned face down, then returned his attention to the waiting woman stretching out on her bed. Reaching up to the straps of his armor he began to unfasten them.

"Wait," Bulma shouted.

"What? Do you want this or not?" Vegeta snapped back.

"No, let me do it this time," she cooed, leaning up and grabbing the front of his breastplate. Swinging back she yanked Vegeta forwards. He landed with an 'oomph' next to her on the vast expansive bed. From the smirk on his face she realized he had allowed her to do so. Laying alongside one another he did not seem so tall.

Rather it was the royal aura he exuded. Her slender ivory fingers wrestled with one of the segmented straps. Fist the left, then the right. He lifted his arms to allow her to pull it up and over his head. Only the tip of his hair bent slightly as it bumped the neck hole. She tossed it down with a clunk belying its true mass was greater then it seemed.

"That slave of yours does good work," said Vegeta. "This material is superior to that of any make. You employ decent craftspeople."

"She's not a slave, she's a friend," Bulma mumbled. Vegeta swung around and rested one booted foot on her leg, while folding his knee under him to grasp her shoulder and pull them both down again.

"Whatever. See to it you tell your other servants to pay me the proper respect as she did," the Saiyan Prince requested. Another boot joined the first on the floor beside the breastplate. His gloves were next to come off, peeled away one by one by Bulma herself. Then one of them busied untying her robe sash.

Sliding a hand under he felt under the curve of one breast, realizing it was larger then he had recalled. A cocked brow elicited the answer from Bulma, "It's because of Trunks…"

"I'll have to thank the brat," Vegeta whispered, nuzzling at the top. He didn't bother to tear the bra off, instead he yanked the sides of her robe apart. She gritted her teeth at the ripping sound. However she could buy another. Then sliding his hand down her ribs he diverted it to squeeze her thigh, then her backside. His other arm wrapped around her from beneath, while they lay on their sides facing one another. Tugging at his waistband, she pulled his shirt upwards, and he shimmied out of it like a serpent shedding its skin. Likewise came the leggings, revealing tight form fitting boxer briefs. Commingled clothes accumulated with the addition of Bulma's robe. He saw the loose cotton nightgown, thin strapped that she had overtop, with the peasant neck she could tug down, along with a strange bra that she'd left unbuttoned.

Her hands squeezed and probed the added bulk of his muscles, her arms crossing his that were doing much the same with her now wider hips. Hot breath pulsed, and Vegeta rolled over so he placed Bulma above him. Blue hair fell around his face, and he sat her on top of his pelvis. She snickered at the hard bulge, rubbing herself against it teasingly. Neither had to exchange a word to know what the other liked. Both burned for a long foreplay that would culminate in this coupling.

A final rip breached the silk panties, and they soon were lost in the boxer shorts landing atop them. Chest rising and falling, Vegeta hoarsely panted up at the woman. Each surge of his breath pulsed hot in her face, slowly increasing her desire. Then he rolled her over again, surprisingly pleased at how she lay with both arms on either side. He said nothing at the sudden tear shimmering in the corner of one eye, and brushed it away with a thumb.

"Is this the second and last time I'll have you before you run off to fight?" she whispered.

"No. But I can't show the others any petty attachments. Lest they use them against me…"

"Even the Z warriors?" she asked. "They would keep their mouths shut… or you don't trust anyone?"

"Correct," he hissed.

"Don't you trust me?" she whispered. She leaned up as he moved down, lips nipping at her collarbone, then downwards. With his breath alone he aroused her skin to tingling, then spread her legs apart. Just being near him again had prepared her, for he smelled her unique scent calling him.

Bottomless dark eyes searched hers, for any flaw or chink. At the same moment hers did, looking for any unguarded gleam that would betray his true feelings if he had any. Sure enough she saw a vulnerable chink and wedged her way into it with a hand caressing his cheek. With her thumb she traced his widow's peak, then plunged her hands into his spiky comb of hair. "Hnh," he grunted.

This was the best answer she would get. And it was enough. Angled brows and flared nostrils banished the unguarded look. Bulma grasped his hip, pulling him down into her. Her eyes widened, surprised at the changes and the similarities in his body. "look at me," Vegeta growled. "I want to see you."

"All right then," Bulma nodded, turning her attention to him. Those black holes that devoured all light, all reason. Binding her with an unbreakable grip no matter the distance. Hers the calm blue of the ocean which had its own currents and depths unimaginable.

They merged together, sky and sea. Rocking against each other for the inevitable surge of the tide to its highest point. Locked together they shuddered, and Vegeta felt her lips claim his hungrily. They silenced their cries against one another's mouths. The baby would not be awakened, they vowed.

"Bulma…" She only half heard his words. "You must give your word…"

"What word… Vegeta!" she moaned, closer to the edge of falling over into bliss.

" I also warn you to stay away from the battle, Bulma. Do not subject the brat to the fight, or yourself. I cannot divide my attention between hunting for those tin cans and protecting you. Once a Saiyan sees his prey his soul devotion is to the completion of that task," Vegeta panted, his sweat dripping on her face as she cried out and tossed her head with the first crash.

"I swear… I'll try," she whispered. "But I will miss you… only if you promise… that no matter what you say or do when we're around the others… you still accept us…"

"I vow… and swear it, Bulma. Alone we have this. Together, we are as allies, but no more than that, before your so-called weakling friends. I am to them the father of Trunks, but little else," he snorted. Pushing that thought away he let out a low snarling moan, then forced his mouth again to Bulma's, trying to stifle it. Their lips fused and danced, mimicking their primary activity. Somehow they had transferred beneath the fine linen sheets with a remarkable thread count in the thousands.

Bulma panted, gasping under the bulk of him collapsing on top of her. Vegeta rested his chin in her shoulder, exhausted. She continued to lay under him, arms extended, catching her breath. Realizing once more that this was another moment of revelation, she shivered at the similarity. He had left before in this way. Gently rocking she poked his shoulder.

"Mmmph what," he mumbled, barely pushing himself off with one flattened palm to the side of her face.

"I ask again, is this the only other time till…"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Bulma. You know that pisses me off," Vegeta complained. "Now shut up and sleep."

Bulma suddenly giggled, knowing the course their path would take. She suppressed the pain that would blossom from separation, yet would welcome whatever warmth could be offered. Even if it was only to be sought between the sheets of her bed. Each cranky crossword complaining of her faults endeared him to her. Then she enjoyed the solid weight and the rasping of his snore. Kissing his temple Bulma allowed herself to drift off. It was enough that he had allowed her to see the chinks in his armor, and she had felt a piece of himself enter her life as well. He had wedged his way in unwittingly, and they would rebuild the suits when before the others. Nevertheless alone, they had no need for such shells.