Hello boys and girls! Can't get enough of this fanfic stuff, and I also can't get enough of Vegeta, so here we go.............a fanfic about Vegeta. Right, this time Vegeta's a lot more like the DBZ one, rather than the romantic one cez detests so much in How Trunks exists! This is quite short too, to spare you the pain, although I think you'll like it.
Plotline is simple-this is how Vegeta got his shocking GT haircut, which I don't actually mind, but hey, I'm odd lol.
OK, here we go..........................oh, and by the way, all telepathy throughout haircut 100! is in colons, e.g. :: and all telepathy's in stars, e.g. *
Installment one.............................
“I AM NOT GETTING A SODDING HAIRCUT AND THAT IS FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The Prince of all Saiyans shrieked indignantly at his family one Sunday evening around the dinner table, all of whom cowered somewhat at his infernal rage.
“Besides………………..what’s wrong with my hair anyway?!” He demanded lividly, and his wife smiled knowingly at him, which aggravated him even more.
“Well, Vegeta……………….it’s just so UNRULY of late!” She informed him gently, and their children chuckled discreetly behind their backs. Vegeta growled at them both, and they desisted rather abruptly.
“My hair is perfectly ADEQUATE!” He argued, to which his eight-year-old daughter laughed aloud.
“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaad,” she sang in that irritating squeaky voice that made Vegeta wish she was male, “it might be easier if we started with what was RIGHT about your hair………….wouldn’t take so long!”
Now it was the turn of his son to stick his oar in, while the girls both giggled, and Vegeta hoped heÂ’d get more understanding, with him being a man of eighteen and all.
But the Saiyan Prince was sorely mistaken.
“Must admit, dad…………….they’ve got a point, it DOES need at least a trim!” Trunks added, leaving Vegeta to snarl at the three of them.
“There is nothing wrong with my fricking hair!” Vegeta implored, sighing at them all defeatedly; that was it, now they had ALL agreed, the fate of his head was all but sealed.
“Daddy got outnumbered, three to one!” Bra said happily, which earned her a filthy look from her father.
“Right, I’m going to train, and whoever attempts to follow me will end up in the next dimension, I don’t care which one of you it is!” Vegeta yelled at them all, and they all laughed appreciatively as he teleported outside and flew off. Bulma smiled wickedly-she knew just the right motivation to get her husband of twenty years to bring himself to get dragged into the barber's..............................
“Hey children-your father has just dug his own grave by going out to train,” she told them, an evil streak running through her voice as they looked at her curiously.
"Bra..............perhaps you will get to try out that dye kit after all," Bulma informed her mysteriously, and Bra beamed excitedly. Trunks, however, averse to feminine traits, merely stared at them both in bewilderment.
"Oh, what you miss out on by being male, Trunks dear................listen to this," Bulma requested, and he did so, finding the idea his mother had come up with uncharacteristically devious but PERFECT all the same. He didn't know why he was so surprised at her suggestion-he knew that she was a woman who could get what she wanted with an often quite perturbing amount of ease, which always amused both him and his sister when she got the better of their insanely proud father.
"That's a GREAT idea-mum, you're really clever," Bra complimented, flying off upstairs to get the essential equipment ready, quickly followed by the other two, who had slightly more complex jobs to do to carry out their plan.
*
Vegeta fumed, blasting a nearby boulder apart without sparing any energy. That was the only thing that really bugged him about his family...............they were all so damn stubborn it was unreal sometimes-if they had been anyone else, he'd have blasted them all long ago. But, damn them all, he loved them-and he'd rather die himself than injure any of them. The extent of his love for the three of them frankly scared him at times, but he had never, nor would he ever, consider them his weakness-they were, in actual fact, his only real strength, if he was brutally honest with himself. So, instead of reducing the Capsule Corporation to rubble, he preferred to take his frustration out on inanimate objects, that meant absolutely nothing to him.
"I am NOT getting a haircut..................they can moan about it until the end of time, but they WILL NOT MAKE ME CUT MY HAIR!!!!!!!!!!!" He raged at the surrounding environment, throwing a stray ki ball at a cliff face, which crumbled as if some giant had just stomped on it with all his might. He ignited his finger with a little of his immense energy, and carved a sizeable rock into a throne-like seat, which he sat in huffily, not really taking any pleasure in destroying the natural beauty the planet he now called home harvested.
And at that precise moment, Vegeta's worst enemy flew directly into his mind-the voice of reason. Kami, how he hated that voice.
*Come on now Vegeta.....................you've got it good mate*, the voice reminded him, and he had to admit, the irritating son of a ***** he called his conscious was damn right-he had it better than anyone else he knew, in fact-way better than Kakarott, even, who didn't share a bond with his mate, like Vegeta did with Bulma.
"Right, that's it.................I'm going home, voice of reason-and I hope you're happy," he muttered bitterly, taking flight, heading back to West City reluctantly.
Unfortunately for him, he didn't have an inkling of what was waiting for him at home...............if he had have done, he certainly wouldn't have gone.
When Vegeta arrived back at the Capsule Corp, he found somewhat of a blissful scene-his family were all sitting around the enormous table that adorned their kitchen, playing Parcheesi. They all greeted him jovially, and Bulma told him she'd already moved the innumberable number of ornaments that graced the shower area, so he could just step straight in without having to bother to pull them everywhere himself. He grunted his reply and nodded, sidling off up the stairs without a glance back. Kami, how he wanted to be more pleasant. But he wouldn't betray the real Vegeta by submitting to Earth niceties, plus he knew they'd think him strange anyway, and he couldn't be bothered with getting ****** off twice in one night.
He stepped into the shower ten or so minutes later, after grabbing some decisively unflattering pyjamas from his and Bulma's room, and felt the hot water cascade over his skin with a sweet relief. It was often, during moments like this, when he had a spare half an hour, he'd sit and contemplate his life, and what he could have become had he not sensed Bulma's paradise when he had. It frequently marvelled the Saiyan that he was such a changed man, yet in the same respect, he was exactly the same. His demeanour hadn't changed, nor would it ever. But his approach to the tree of life wasn't a straight flight to the top anymore.................there had been many branches in his way to the happiness the top leaf offered him, and he'd overcome them all to reach that pinnacle. But he'd always felt a few leaves away, or, more to the point.................he didn't ever consider himself to be at the top, but he knew, deep down, that he had been-as much as he knew he'd been right deep down in the buttress roots of life too. He could list the time he'd ascended to the highest point on one hand...............his and Bulma's first night together, the births of their children, their marriage, and the time he and his mate had bonded..............................
::Why am I comparing myself to a tree?!:: He mused to himself, getting, as usual when he went deep into thought, too philosophical for his own good.......................he could have could on for hours in that vein, and it was so pointless. But Vegeta was, always had been, somewhat of a dreamer. He had finally accepted, after almost twenty-two years, that Goku was better than him, and that the ******* always would be. He had been at rather a low point in the oak of life when he had finally admitted that and become the third-class soldier's friend. It was, in fact, when he had just been brought back to life, and when he was fighting Majin Buu, yet another being that was damn superior to him. As the Saiyan Prince, he had seen battles that would make even Goku cringe-but he had to admit, despite the facade he had put on so well at the time, that little, blacmange-pink, childish monster had scared him like nothing ever had before. That HUGE amount of power he wielded so damn frighteningly yet so effortlessly, and the way he was sickeningly immature frightened him beyond his imagination had ever thought it possible to. And the way he had destroyed the Earth, without giving a toss................he still had nightmares about the pain Trunks must have felt at the planet's destruction, and how he was callously and pointlessly incinerated...........................it was as though someone who knew EXACTLY how the Saiyan worked, nuts and bolts and all, had prepared a recipe for the most disturbing creature Vegeta could ever encounter in the form of Kid Buu.
::Vegeta, stop it....................you're losing the plot::, he scolded himself, grabbing his loofah and shower gel and creating a lather on the former. The Prince had never met anyone who daydreamed quite as much as he.............and he'd travelled the length and breadth of the Universe. Not that he'd exactly been a particularly popular visitor to the vast majority of planets he'd been to, but hey, he'd still been to them, regardless of whether or not he was on the VIP list.
::Oh for crying out loud.............I might as well play word association, I couldn't get any further from the point if I tried::, Vegeta mumbled to himself, really enjoying the hydrological experience the Briefs' power shower provided him with-it almost rivalled Venezuala's Angel Falls......................that place was a different class, it truly was. He often went there to calm down or train, and he just sat under it, meditating...............never had anywhere made him feel so cool and collected-it was almost as though, when there, he could momentarily forget his life and its commitments, and act like he was a free spirit....................
He snapped himself out of his reverie by reaching for the shampoo, which he grabbed and poured onto his head, rubbing it in and giving himself a relaxing Saiyan head massage while he did so. Before their children had be born, Bulma had often showered with him, massaging his aching head, making him feel utterly divine.....................but, of course, those moments had since become few and far between, only happening if Trunks took his sister out for an afternoon, and if Vegeta or Bulma happened to be free at the time. He occasionally regretted not having these special little times with Bulma.................but he liked being a father as well; they both had their merits, fatherhood being the lot more rewarding of the two. Never had he spoken about this to Bulma-he knew she'd probably take it the wrong way, and think Vegeta regretted having them both, which he didn't at all, although they did his head in at times..................he wouldn't be without them now, and anyone who dared to hurt them would find that out, although they wouldn't neccessarily have time to do so while they were living, because he'd kill them immediately.
He rinsed his supposedly "unruly" hair and stepped out of the shower, snatching up the nearest towel. He dried himself off, then he came to that controversial mop that rest upon his scalp, or his hairdo in lamen's terms. He partially dried it, preferring to leave it to dry naturally, as was the natural Saiyan way of trichology. He looked in the mirror at his hair, to see if it was drying in the right positioning so his family wouldn't moan at him even more, and almost screamed at what he saw.
His hair was bright pink. Not even a pale pink.....................a vivid sodding fuschia.
Tell me what you think guys!