Mr. & Mrs. Oji is inspired from the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith. It's an alternate universe of the Dragon Ball Z time line but everyone who is a saiyain is still a saiyan and all that stuff. So this is the prologue to the actual story, just how they met. This takes place 2 years before the present.
- Intro-
The rain wasn't helping Bulma's mood. How was she supposed to do her job when the police were everywhere. She certainly didn't remember getting briefed on the anal security in sunny Cuba, but then again it wasn't very sunny at the moment. She just hoped that her cleavage enhancing white cotton summer dress wasn't attracting too much attention, but then again, she didn't put it on this morning to blend into the crowd.
Walking into her hotel lobby she scanned the room quickly, finding it very hard not to notice the very attractive man sitting at the bar. She smirked to herself and tried to remember that this was a business trip not intended for pleasure. Now she wasn't very fluent in Spanish but because of experience she could hear authority figures coming at her from a mile away. Bulma glanced over her shoulder to see 2 policemen walking over to her.
The man at the bar ordered another beer and was certainly not intending to make small talk with the bartender but decided to actually listen to what he was saying. "The police are on high alert, taking any single American tourists into custody. I hope you are not alone my friend." He said in Spanish, but Vegeta caught every word of it. "Really." He replied nonchalantly and downed the rest of his beer, peering over his shoulder and scanning the room as he was trained to do. Shit.
He was about to book it out of there until he spotted the only American woman there that was alone. The cerulean blue hair wasn't hard to miss, but if he hadn't been looking he would have missed how beautiful she was. It looked like she was in need of assistance about as much as he was. Kill two birds with one stone.
"Excuse me miss, are you traveling alone?" the policeman asked. It took Bulma more then a few seconds to start to try and translate what the hell it was that he said to her, and clearly, it was a few seconds to long for his liking. Next thing she knew she was being escorted by the police into a room. Not a good way to start the job Bulma. She glanced back at the man at the bar pleadingly who was now looking at her.
She was now in a room alone with the 2 policemen and it wasn't looking so bright for Miss. Briefs at the moment. Suddenly, the door opened and the man at the bar stormed in, a bit angrily as well.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped at the men in English.
Thank you!
"She's with me, so you can let us take our vacation and get the hell out." He said sternly in Spanish so they would understand.
Nevermind…
From the little Spanish that Bulma did know, all she caught was "With me" and "Get the hell out."
The policemen left briskly and they both followed them to the door. Bulma stood with her back to the door, listening intently while the man had the twin door open a crack as he peered out into the lobby, one arm up and leaning against the door frame.
She looked up at his serious and hard face and smirked. She didn't know why he helped her or who he was, but she was very grateful and would have to repay him in the only way she knew how, but first they needed their introduction.
"My name's Bulma." She whispered to him over the commotion outside so that they could both still hear what was going on.
He exhaled loudly and glanced down at her through the corner on his eyes. He looked back up and slowly closed the door.
"...Vegeta."