|
Warning: OOC out the wazoo, not beta'd
The aircar touched down on the overgrown grass with a faint jolt, coolant jets hissing and landing pads tearing into the moist soil. Inside, Bulma released the steering column and trigged the parking sequence. Lights flashed and the canopy opened obediently, bringing in the softly warm afternoon air. She stared up at the fading blue sky. Was she really going to go through with this? A breeze wormed its way into the cockpit, catching the top of the folder next to her and flipping it back. The pictures inside were lurid constructions of shadow and color; fair and dark flesh revealed in splashes of red light. She didn't look at them too hard. They were an invasion, she knew, if an unintentional one. There had been more, but she'd deleted them. Would have deleted these too, except. . . She was tired of this, of bearing the secret, of being a quiet accomplice. Granted, this particular line of action may result in her becoming messy smear across the countryside, but that was a risk she was willing to take. Firming her jaw, Bulma gathered up the folder and exited the machine. Soon as she was out, the canopy closed and the aircar settled into lockdown. Bulma turned toward her goal. The door to the house was already open and Chichi stood in its frame, smiling and waving to her friend. Bulma sighed and waved back in greeting, picking up her pace over the lush grass. Her stomach fluttered with unease. "Bulma-san, what brings you by?" Chichi said, soon as Bulma was near enough to hear her, "Please, come inside, I'll fix something to eat." She ushered the other woman into her spotless kitchen. Bulma couldn't help but smile---Chichi may have many failings, but a lack of hospitality was not one of them. She sat at the table in one rough-hewn chair, hands clenched together on top of the folder. Chichi talked as she started the kettle and laid biscuits out on a plate. "I'm afraid you just missed Goku-san. He and Goten-chan left a few hours ago. Off on a camping trip, and if I know them, a training trip too," she said, shaking her head. Her tone was indulgent, however, without any of the near homicidal fury that still rose from hearing 'Gohan' and 'training' used in the same sentence. Bulma had always privately thought that the boys would have been better off if they'd had four or five other siblings to help bear the brunt of Chichi's mothering. Or maybe if they'd been born closer in age. The woman was just far too controlling for one child at a time, especially considering how self-sufficient Saiyajin were even as infants. "Yes, I know," Bulma said, "Trunks mentioned it." That was why she came when she did; no chances of interruptions. "How is Trunks doing?" Chichi asked, carrying a tray of tea and goodies to the table. "Keeping up with his school work?" "When I can get him to sit still long enough to do it," Bulma said, accepting a mug. Chichi sat next to her and the women chatted a little bit about harmless things, like family and shopping. Finally, Bulma could take the tension no more. She put down her cup with hands that shook, making the painted ceramic rattle against the wood. "Chichi, I'm afraid I'm not just here for a visit..." she began, lifting the folder from its resting place on her lap and setting it on the table. Chichi's eyes went wide. "Oh no, Bulma-san, is something wrong? You're not sick are you? Are your parents okay?" She wrung her hands worriedly. "No, no, its not that," Bulma assured her, "It's...well, actually, its about Vegeta and... and Goku." Chichi paused, seemingly surprised, then her expression darkened warningly. "What did that idiot do this time?" she said in disgust and gathering fury. Bulma wasn't certain if the other woman was referring to Bulma's husband or her own. "Well... he...they... oh, just look!" Words failing her, Bulma flipped open the top of the folder and push it in front of Chichi. Then she pulled back against her chair, kept one eye on the exit, and waited for the explosion. For a moment, Chichi stared down in incomprehension at the glossy pictures piled haphazardly inside the folder. Then one hand, roughened through years of housework, reached out and picked up the first picture. Then the next. A blush spread across Chichi's cheeks. "Vegeta, huh? Not who I would have expected," she said quietly, looking at the images, "At least they look like they're enjoying themselves." She picked up another picture, blinked, and turned it sidewise. Her blush darkened. "Oh my. That's quite. . .creative." Bulma stared at her as if she had gone insane. The woman was looking at photographic evidence that her husband was cheating on her---with his very male rival, no less---and she was complimenting their technique? This was not acceptable! "Damnit Chichi, the bastard is cheating on you!" Bulma raged, forgetting that her original intent had been to talk Chichi *out* of being angry with Goku. All her carefully constructed lectures about how they could 'work it out' and surely it was 'just a one time thing, please put down that shotgun' vanished like mist before the sun. "Worse, he's doing it with *my* husband! Another guy!" "Well, I'd hardly expect him to sleep with a woman," Chichi said, still with that unnerving aura of calmness. Surprise instantly deflated Bulma's anger. "Wait, you mean," she trailed off, eyes wide as if she didn't believe her own conclusions. "You mean. . . Goku's gay?" No, that couldn't be right; she was reading Chichi wrong. "Bulma-san, you did see these pictures, right?" Chichi asked in much the same tone as she used on her own sons when they were being particularly blockheaded. She glanced one last time at the photos, and blushed again with acute embarrassment before setting them aside and picking up her mug. "Yes, but, but." Come on brain, work! "I mean, one time thing, doesn't mean he's. . .and, you know, he could be bisexual. . . its just. . ." She stopped, and slumped into her chair. Chichi just shook her head in a negative. "Are you sure?" "Finds me as sexually appealing as an old shoe," the dark haired woman confirmed with some amusement. "Known it for years actually. Though it did take me a while to figure it out at first. Didn't even touch me on our wedding night, even if he was willing enough to share the bed. I'd cuddle up to him and he kept on telling me to put clothes on if I was feeling cold!" She snorted and the familiar fury flashed in the back of her eyes. "Baka." "But the boys, how. . ." Bulma pressed her fingers against the gathering pain in her temple. "Oh, gay or not, he's still man. Usually if I kept the lights off and really worked at it, I could get him involved enough to actually accomplish something." Gentle affection softened the fire of her gaze. "And he did try occasionally, once he figured out that sex is something a married couple is supposed to do. But after a while, I stopped bothering him about it. I had the son I wanted, after all, and there's something depressing about being with someone who finds screwing you less enjoyable than eating a sandwich." She paused; head turned to the side as if looking at something distant and long gone. Bulma felt uneasy, not quite sure how to equate this strange creature with the constantly angry, fly off the handle over *anything* woman she was used too. "That's why Goten-chan was a surprise in more ways than one," Chichi said after a while, "Goku-san came to me willingly the night before that damn battle. Guilt, I'm sure, though I haven't decided yet if he was deliberately trying to get me pregnant or not." "Why didn't you ever leave?" Bulma said, curious despite herself. "Leave?" Chichi assumed a look of complete bafflement. "Leave this?" She waved her hand to indicate her home. "The house I've spent so many years looking after? That's so full of memories? Leave the comforts I have, the wonderful life I lead? Leave Goku-san who makes me smile as much as he pisses the life out of me? Make my sons chose between me and their father? Leave *them*? "No Bulma-san," she said, "I've been alone before, why put myself through that willingly? My husband lives, my sons are near, I have everything I want." A crease marked her forehead. "Or I would if they spent less time fighting and more time doing something constructive." "But what about love?" Bulma persisted, not understanding this at all. She'd always been subtly confused by Chichi's chosen lifestyle. How the hell could the woman stand to live in the ass end of nowhere with only two mayhem bent children and a husband who spent most of his time dead for company? At her words, Chichi's head came up like a filly fighting the bit. "Are you suggesting that my family DOESN'T LOVE ME?!" she yelled, eyes ablaze and teeth bared, ready to tear Bulma into pieces. "No, no, not at all!" Bulma babbled franticly, hands up for protection and mouth spread into a wide, false grin. "They absolutely adore you! Goten talks about you all the time! Gohan too, why every time I see him he's always saying 'boy, do I love my mom'!" Bulma laughed in sheer terror. Chichi relaxed instantly, a satisfied smile coming across her features as she sipped demurely at her tea. "Well, there you go," she said, as if that completely ended the conversation. Bulma let out the breath she was holding and wiped the sweat of her brow. That was close. Still, she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea of Chichi being okay with Goku being not only gay, but a cheat as well. She was just building up another good reason for why this whole deal was several different kinds of 'not cool', when Chichi beat her to the podium. "You know Bulma, all this and I haven't heard yet what *you* think of it," Chichi said, titling her head to the side, "After all, you and Vegeta only just recently made it official." "Oh, that was for convenience," Bulma said quickly, waving off the whole event as unimportant, "If something ever happened to me, I wanted him to have full access to my accounts, as well as guardianship of Trunks. I still have nightmares about the last time social workers came to take Trunks away. The world couldn't survive a second attempt." One of Trunks teachers had gotten the idea that Trunks was being abused---not that Bulma blamed him, considering how roughed up the kid usually looked after a tough training session---and had called child protective services on it. Unfortunately, the agency ended up sending one of their most zealous members, who'd shown up at Capsule Corp just in time to see five-year-old Trunks expertly wielding a welding torch. He, of course, hadn't known that Trunks had the motor skills and mental capacity of a twenty-year-old or that his skin was as damage resistant as granite; all he'd seen was a little kid in a dangerous situation. Trunks, still somewhat compliant at that age, had obeyed the man's frantic order to put the tool down, but refused to get into his car to be 'taken someplace safe'. Both Vegeta and Bulma had responded to their son's yells of "Let me go, you asshole!", but Vegeta had gotten there first. It hadn't been pretty. Bulma had talked just fast enough to keep Vegeta from turning him into red mud. But Vegeta's mouth is as cutting as his blows and the man would've probably preferred death to the verbal assault he got instead. One of the many reasons why Trunks was now home-schooled. "For that matter, we didn't bother with any kind of vows," Bulma continued after shaking off the memory, "Our relationship has always been open and I didn't see any reason to change that. Really, I was more surprised than anything else; I never thought Vegeta liked other men, let alone Goku of all people." She was tempted to add that her true problem with the matter had been Goku's unfaithfulness and the dilemma she faced as a friend to both of them. But now she wondered if the two of them had an arrangement similar to her and Vegeta and decided that it wasn't her place to know either way. "Good, I'm glad," Chichi said, honestly pleased, "I'd have had to give Goku-san a serious talking too if his activities were causing you any distress." Bulma sweatdropped. Chichi's idea of a 'talking too' involved repeated applications of something blunt and heavy. "Heh, don't do that. Honestly Chichi, I can't complain, I have everything I---" She stopped. Everything she wanted. She had her work and her experiments and all the time she needed to accomplish both. Dende knew she had a great home and an even greater staff to help maintain it. She had plenty of good friends in the form of all the Z senshi, as well as numerous work associates. She had a wonderful son, regardless of the destruction and mental suffering he was wont to cause. She had sex whenever she wanted it---Vegeta seldom turned down the chance tumble her and there were always others when he did---and a devoted, if somewhat emotionally constipated, father for her child. Did *she* have love? Not the romantic, sweep-me-off-my-feet, woo-me-by-candle-light kind of love she use to dream of. But what was that compared to the network of care and support and affection she had now? And did she really, truly, want to tie herself to one person? Cut herself away from the pleasures of others, like she use to do with Yamacha? No. Maybe it wasn't the stuff of dreams, but she liked her life just the way it was, thank you very much. Perhaps she understood Chichi better than she thought. "Bulma-san?" Chichi prompted her politely, eyebrows raised in consideration. Bulma jumped to herself addressed and then laughed nervously when she realized how long she'd been sitting there staring into space. "Sorry about that! Oh my, look at the time," she said, making a show of checking her watch, "I'd better get going, I've got a project waiting for me in the lab." She stood to go, snagging a couple cookies for her purse, and started to reach for the folder. "Oh, leave it," Chichi said, stopping her. "Don't worry, I know just the place where Goku won't find it." "But . . .why would you want it?" Chichi gave her a knowing look. "Bulma-san, Goku-san and Vegeta-san are both very attractive men. And when a woman isn't getting any from her husband, she has to take what she can get." Bulma went wide-eyed at the implications. Babbling out her farewells, Bulma bailed the scene more quickly than politeness allowed. Chichi simply laughed and waved at her retreating back. Once the sound of the aircar lifting off and flying away had vanished, Chichi finished her tea and picked up the folder. Shifting through the bright array of photos, a blush once again darkened her face. It was amazing what one could accomplish when one has the flexibility of a wet noodle. She glanced around her kitchen. The dishes needed to be done and the stove had to be scrubbed and there was quite a pile of dirty laundry. She thought about a it a moment, then smiled prettily. Clasping the folder to her chest, she headed to the bedroom; the house would be empty for the next few days and she had a *lovely* new collections photos for her viewing pleasure. The housework could wait. ~~~ End
|
|