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Read the entire work on AO3 here -> A Devil’s Smile

Catch up on previous chapters:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Authors note: This chapter is particularly meaningful.. lots of great angst and more background about Milla.

Thank you to @minyapaws​ for helping me with concepts and editing. I feel like my work really transformed after our conversation. Please go read her story, "Ox Queen" if you haven't already. It is FANTASTICALLY written and so well thought out.

If you've read this far, thanks for sticking with the story! Find me on AO3 @vegetasleftsock​. Leave your feedback and thoughts in the comments! I love to read them :)

Here’s the link to the song mentioned in the chapter  “Amarillo By Morning” - George Strait  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZBf16B5vhs 

Chapter 6 - Promises and Pride

A tall, thin waitress with curly red hair and a bright smile approached the high top table where Milla and Vegeta sat. She was wearing a tight, navy blue, v-neck t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans with a black apron tied around her tiny waist. 

The attractive waitress shone her blindingly white smile at the pair and handed them each a menu and a set of silverware. 

“Hi, guys! Welcome to Umai Ramen! My name is Amy and I’ll be your server today.” She glanced back and forth between Vegeta and Milla before clapping her hands together. “Can I get you two started with something to drink? We have soda, beer on tap, and sake.”

Milla stared at her intently as she spoke and gave her an earnest smile before starting to order. “We’ll both have whatever craft beer you’re into at the moment,” Milla said, batting her eyelashes and still smiling softly at the redhead with her cheek in her palm. 

Vegeta glanced up from his menu and watched the interaction silently. He raised an eyebrow and questioned to himself why Milla seemed to be laying it on thick with this waitress. 

“Actually,” Vegeta started, causing the waitress to stop the scribbles she was making on her notepad and look up towards his voice. “You can get me a water.”

The woman awkwardly smiled and nodded her head. “You got it. I’m going to go ahead and put these in for you guys while you take a look at the menu. Be right back!” The waitress said with a polite grin before striding away.

“She’s so pretty,” Milla said nonchalantly while her eyes glazed over the long, creme colored, laminated menu. 

Vegeta scoffed and looked mildly disgusted. “She looks like she could be crushed with a gust of wind.” 

“If you don’t think she’s hot, you’ve got some fucked up taste.” Milla shrugged while still glancing over the menu. 

“Ha!” Vegeta laughed, setting his menu down on the wooden table to cross his arms across his chest in a gesture of confidence. “What does that say about yourself-”

In the middle of speaking, Vegeta had realized what he just admitted to, but it was too late to take the words back. 

Milla sat in silence, staring, burning a hole through her menu. Without moving her face, she glanced to the side and then looked up to meet Vegeta’s gaze. 

She analyzed his face and saw him trying to play it off, but the color in his face was a dead giveaway. It was the same face he had made the night they had met, when Milla had used her finger to lift his face towards her while she performed. 

Milla rolled her lips in, trying to hide her smile and spare his pride but she couldn’t contain herself any longer. She burst out into laughter at the sight of him. His wide-eyed reaction sent her even further into her laughing fit until she buckled over from the cramps in her side. 

She was flattered, but the look he gave her after he slipped was what made her lose it. Had Vegeta not acted like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Milla might have entertained the conversation in a different way. 

“Hoo!” Milla breathed while wiping a tear from her eye. “That was fucking hilarious.” She said, still slightly chuckling. 

Before Vegeta could respond, the waitress reappeared and started to set cardboard coasters on the table, followed by their drinks. 

“Alrighty, guys. Are we ready to order?” The waitress said, pen and pad ready. 

“Yes,” Milla said, regathering herself. “Can I please get a black tonkotsu with the thicker noodles?”

“Sure can. And for you?” The waitress asked, looking to Vegeta.

“Uh- I’ll have the same thing,” Vegeta said, realizing he hadn’t finished looking at the menu.

“Awesome! We’ll get that right out for you.”

“Thank you,” Milla beamed. “By the way, your hair is just so gorgeous.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes and looked away, refusing to watch as Milla flirted with the taller female.

“Well, thank you! That’s so sweet,” the woman said, shining her big, bright smile and happy eyes at Milla. “Let me know if you guys need anything else!” She nodded towards them before walking away.

“So, I’ve never asked,” Milla said, trying to revive the conversation. “What do you do? Bulma told me that you like, fight and protect the Earth and shit, but is that all you do?” She said before taking a sip of her beer. 

“Is that all I do,” Vegeta derided her question, almost mocking her. “Saiyans are warriors meant to pursue greater power. It’s not some silly little Earth duty. In fact, I’ve neglected my training by being here.” 

Milla pursed her lips and nodded. “Not a silly little Earth duty. Noted.”

“I can’t imagine what kind of dull positions Earthlings hold anyways.” Vegeta stated plainly.

“For your information, not all of them happen to be dull,” Milla said, rolling her head to the side a little bit, her eyes looking up and appearing to question her own words. “My day job just so happens to be kind of bland, but it makes ends meet.”

“My point.” Vegeta said.

“Guess you got me there.” Milla laughed, her arms crossing on the table. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, leaving her tattoos on display.

“What’s the reason for these?” Vegeta asked, his eyes set on her body art.

Milla looked at him, eyebrows raised. “My tattoos? I’m guessing that’s not something people have where you’re from. They’re all stories, things I find beautiful, or am attached to.”

“This one is a date,” she said pointing to a roman numeral on the side of her wrist. “My mom and dad shared a birthday. My mom passed not too long after I was born and my dad, Leo, would honor her memory every year on that day by continuing to celebrate as if she was there. It helped me feel connected to her, even though I never really met her.”

Vegeta sat, quietly listening as Milla continued to explain the story behind each of her bigger pieces.

Milla pointed to another tattoo, the one on her forearm. She laid her arm flat on the table to show him. 

“This one is my childhood dog, Pinto. I grew up with him and he’s easily one of nicest dogs I’ve ever known. It was hard to lose him, but I got this tattooed so I could always see his sweet face wherever I go.” She admitted, a small smile crossing her lips as she remembered her black and tan Labrador. 

“Have you ever had a pet? You don’t seem much like an animal person.”

The first thing that came to Vegeta’s mind was Nappa. Having to babysit him was the only thing he could relate to in terms of having that kind of responsibility. He just shook his head in response. 

The waitress returned to their table with two large ceramic bowls. “Okie dokie, we have two black tonkatsu with udon noodles. Is there anything else I can grab you? Everything looks good?”

“Looks fantastic. Thank you.” Milla said.

Vegeta and Milla continued to learn more about each other over dinner. There were even a few moments where both of them shared small laughs. Milla liked being able to make Vegeta smile, even if it was just for a quick moment and even if it was only because she said something sarcastic about someone he disliked.

After they paid the bill and left a substantial tip, Milla convinced Vegeta to follow her back to her apartment despite his resistance. 

He was spending a lot of time away from his training- too much time. He feared he was becoming too comfortable in his situation and that it would put him behind in his progress. The thought itself was unacceptable, but he pushed the feeling into the back of his mind - at least long enough that he could enjoy the events that ensued once they returned. 

Vegeta tested her limits, and she tested his patience in a way that only further motivated his lust towards her. They ended only when they were both completely spent, which is a state that landed upon Milla long before Vegeta - but not something she was going to willingly admit or display. 

The pair stayed where they were at to sleep for no reason other than pure exhaustion, but it’s not something that either of them were upset about.

 Milla enjoyed having his warm presence in her bed and felt herself starting to let her walls down just slightly. Her chest clenched when she thought about it. Lust was one thing, friends with benefits was another thing, but commitment was not something she was ready for or even consciously interested in. 

She thought about one of the values that her father always drilled into her.

Milla’s father, Leo, sat in the driver’s seat of the car. His blue eyes remained on the road ahead as he spoke to her. He was average height and build, wearing a black t-shirt, loose fitting jeans and motorcycle boots. His hair and goatee were silver and it had been that way since she was a little girl. He told her once that he started graying at 18 and that he was completely gray by 20. He was heavily tattooed, with almost his entire torso filled with art. Leo left his hands, neck, and face empty so that he could still look professional at work, but now, on his day off, his tattoos laid freely on the parts of his skin that his t-shirt left exposed. A single tattoo adorned the pinky side of his fist, a squashed insect, which represented a story from his childhood. 

“You have your whole life to settle down, have kids, and do domestic shit,” Leo said. “Travel. See the world. Pursue your biggest dreams. And if you’re still dissatisfied after that, THEN find a partner. It’s not worth it before that point.”

Milla pouted her lip out. As a young girl, she always wanted to date like her friends did. At this time, she was 12 and in middle school and Leo still forbade it. 

“I don’t understand why I can’t find someone I love and travel the world WITH them,” Milla said, looking at her father who frowned at her response. “Wouldn’t that make it more fun?”

“It’s hard to understand this now, but when you meet someone you love, your world stops. It starts to focus around them and you don’t feel the need to put your effort into other things. That is until that initial bond fades and you’re left with regrets.” Leo said, gaze unmoving from what was in front of him. “You fall in love, you get married, you settle down and before you know it you have bills and kids who need and deserve all of your time and attention. It’s not fair to them to be selfish.”

Milla looked down at her hands as she twiddled her thumbs. She didn’t want to believe her dad. She wanted to love and to be loved by someone so bad. 

“Milla,” Leo said, glancing over at her. “If nothing else, promise me you’ll see the world. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but there’s so much out there past this little town. All the foods you and I try, you’ll love them more in person. I want you to feel whole whenever you do find your partner and I know this is the best way to do it. Promise me, Milla.” 

Milla looked up towards her father, her only family in the whole world, and saw him as a parent, pleading with his only child to not make the same mistakes he made. As it often did, her heart hurt for him.

“Okay, dad. I promise.” Milla said, running her father’s words through her head, almost as if she was recording them for safe keeping. 

“What if i’m afraid?”

“It’s okay to be afraid, but remember. You have to let your confidence win over that fear. Never let it overpower you, never let it win.” Leo said.

Milla clenched her fists, battling a list of fears in her head: the fear of being alone, the fear of not fulfilling her father’s promises, the fear of failure, the fear of being hurt.

She looked down at her hands again, nails digging into her palms. “I won’t dad. I won’t ever let it win.”

Milla heaved a deep sigh after replaying the memory in her mind and thumbed over the date on the side of her wrist. Her mom’s date. Her dad’s date. 

Her heart felt like it caved into her stomach. It had been five years since she heard her father’s voice. The father that made her who she is. The reason why she performs, the reason why she lives outside of the norm. He was also the father who broke her heart and her spirit. She kept this brokenness shoved deep inside where no one could ever see. No one was ever going to see her hurt, her fear- especially not her father. Not after what happened between them. 

She looked over to Vegeta laying next to her. He was either asleep or pretending to be. His face usually looks so angry, but now she thought he looked strangely relaxed. 

Milla stared at the ceiling and wondered what exactly she had gotten herself into. Regardless of what she felt for Vegeta, and regardless of how her father hurt her, she was never going to give up that promise that she made him. 

~ 

Early morning came and Milla carefully lifted herself out of bed, doing her best not to awake Vegeta from his sleep.

 She brushed her teeth and washed her face before going out to the kitchen. She decided she probably couldn’t keep as quiet as was necessary while cooking, so she crept back into her bedroom, grabbed her headphones and closed the door slowly until there was a soft, ‘click’. 

Milla started to pull pans and ingredients out from her cupboard and put an earbud in each ear. She switched to her dirty pleasure playlist- country music. It reminded her of home and though she would rather die than admit she had an affinity for the genre, it was her favorite music to cook and do chores to. 

Milla started by mixing the dry ingredients: flour, sugar, baking powder, salt.

Then the wet ingredients: eggs, milk, and melted butter. 

As she combined the wet and dry ingredients into a batter, she sang along to the music softly. 

“Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone. Everything that I’ve got- is just what I’ve got on…”

She turned on the stove and pulled a cup of chocolate chips out of a container. 

“When that sun is high in that Texas sky, I’ll be buckin’ at the country fair…” 

The lyrics reminded Milla of small town dances, sunsets rising over fields of endless corn, the smell of morning dew and rich soil. 

Milla was always the odd one out. She remembered an incident her freshman year of high school. Her basketball team told everyone to wear boots, but the only boots Milla owned were knee-high Doc Martens. She had assumed it would be okay since it was all she had. When she showed up, everyone was wearing western boots except for her. The seniors on the team zeroed in on her and made sure she knew that she was the black sheep of the team. This was just the start of a long line of incidents that occurred through her time in her tiny Texas town. 

It took years of separation and a strong sense of nostalgia to bring her back to listening to country music. Now, she was confident that she could push those who alienated her to the back of her mind and focus on the good memories that the music was a soundtrack to. 

“Amarillo by mornin’, Amarillo, I’ll be there.” 

Milla grabbed a pat of butter from the fridge and tossed it in the pan. The heated pan sizzled on contact with the butter, and she rotated the pan to coat it. 

“They took my saddle in Houston, broke my legs in Santa Fe. Lost my wife and a girlfriend, somewhere along the way.” 

She remembered cooking these same pancakes with her father on Sunday mornings.

 It was her grandmother’s recipe- the same one who gifted her the emerald earrings she wore every workday. 

Leo was an amazing cook. Before Milla’s mom passed, he had aspired to become a chef and go to culinary school. Although taking care of Milla became a full-time job as a single father, it never stopped him from experimenting with new dishes and teaching Milla as much about the culinary arts as he could. 

“Look Milla,” Leo said. “It’s all in the wrist.” He grinned widely before flipping a pancake up into the air and back into the pan.  

“Wow!” Milla cheered, clapping for her father. “I wish I could do that.” 

“Practice makes perfect.” Her father said, tearing a piece of the pancake off and feeding it to Pinto, who was wagging his tail happily at the offering.

 Milla turned the volume up on her headphones, hoping to drown out the thoughts that made her miss everything she used to have. 

She grabbed a spoonful of batter and poured it carefully into the pan before methodically placing chocolate chips into the raw, gooey pancake.

 “But I’ll be looking for eight when they pull that gate- and I hope that judge ain’t blind.” 

Vegeta woke up in an unfamiliar place. He realized he was still in Milla’s bedroom. He had stayed the night. Fallen asleep. Trespassed his boundaries for himself and everyone else. The discomfort with his current situation swelled inside of his chest. He needed to leave - now. 

Vegeta hastily put his clothes back on, looking around and trying to figure out where Milla had gone. He was hoping that she had already left for work. The last thing he needed was Milla looking at him with those dark brown eyes and questioning why he was rushing. It would only be a greater waste of his already poorly spent time. He heard her singing from outside the door and came to terms with the fact that she was fully awake and home. This was not going to be easy, but Vegeta was not going to play a coward’s game. He had his pride. 

He walked out the door and stood a couple of feet behind her and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He listened to her sing for a moment, allowing the peace to remain for a few seconds more. As she sang each word, her accent was more and more apparent. He thought that it must be a quality that she chose to suppress. 

 “Amarillo by mornin’, Amarillo’s on my mind.” 

Milla placed the golden brown pancake on top of the stack that was growing on a plate next to her and turned to grab another pat of butter from the fridge. 

When she saw Vegeta out the corner of her eye she jumped, startled. Her face turned bright red while she wondered how long he had been standing there. 

“You just love to sneak up on me, don’t you? Take a seat,” she gestured at the kitchen table with her spatula. “There’s enough ready that you can at least have a first serving.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Vegeta stated plainly.

 “Oh yea?” Milla said, plucking an earbud out of her ear. Her heart sunk a little at the thought of being left alone with her feelings. She didn’t want to address how she felt about Vegeta, but his presence was still comforting. “Got somewhere you have to be?”

 She held her confidence in her throat, knowing at any moment if she took a deep breath, it would come tumbling out and break her facade. 

“Yes,” he said, looking towards the window where the sun was peeking out into the dark night sky, creating the tip of a sunrise. “This is the last time we can do this.” 

He turned his face towards her and their eyes met. He watched as her face contorted with confusion and what he recognized as a hint of anger. 

“Do what, exactly?” Milla asked, her tone sharpening. Her eyebrows furrowed and she blinked like it would somehow correct the words she was hearing. 

“Be around each other in this situation. I know you’ve grown close to some of those inside of the small web of people I know, so I don’t expect to not see you. But never again in private.” 

If looks could kill, Vegeta would be long gone.

Milla sat the spatula down and turned the stove off. 

“What the actual fuck, Vegeta?” She growled under her breath while clenching her hands into her fists like she would every time she was scared as a little girl. Her fingernails dug further into her palms as she seethed.

“This has been a waste of my time.” Vegeta said, his stare matching her intensity.

Milla’s forehead bunched up and she threw her head back and laughed. 

In the back of Vegeta’s mind, the laugh reminded him of unsettling memories from his past. Her laugh was fueled by pure rage - he was sure of it. 

“A waste of your time, huh?” She said with one hand on the kitchen chair, tapping her foot in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. 

She walked up to him and shoved him back by the shoulder. He barely moved, but the action made him stumble slightly out of surprise. 

He glared at her, hoping she’d let it go, but it seemed to only fuel Milla further. 

“Since we’re sharing our feelings, do you want to know what’s a waste of MY time?” Milla snapped. “YOU. Thinking you can literally barge your way into my fucking life like some rouge bulldozer. Honestly Vegeta, what kind of fucked up are you that you literally had me thinking for EVEN A SPLIT SECOND that I might have cared about you? You took care of me, took interest in me, LITERALLY admitted your attraction to me and led me on to think you cared and now you’re just going to act like I don’t exist? Because why, Vegeta?” 

She pushed her chest against his brick wall of a body shoving him back slightly, looking up at him as he looked straight past her. 

“HUH? Look at me.” She demanded in a low tone. 

He flipped his glare down to look her in the eye. The more time he spent here, the more damage would be created and he was well aware of that. 

“Because why, Vegeta?” she repeated, getting close to his face. “Because it’s too much for you? Is the brave Prince Vegeta too afraid to face his own fucking feelings?” Each word she spoke was like venom. “Just as I thought initially. Fucking. Pathetic.” 

She held eye contact with him for another full moment before shoving herself away from him. She turned around and started walking towards her bedroom. 

“Get the fuck out, Vegeta.” She said. 

Vegeta stood where she left him, his blood boiling at the brim of each insult that cut into his pride. 

He didn’t have his father, he didn’t have his people, but he had his pride. 

“And you think that you can get off acting like some little spoiled brat?” He laughed, smirking at her as though her words left him unaffected. 

“Vegeta. Shut the fuck up and get the fuck out!” Milla yelled. 

“How could you be so dense as to think that I would be interested in commitment with a dirty little Earth brat like you? I wouldn’t dare destroy my royal bloodline by choosing someone like you as my mate.” Vegeta said, lying through his teeth. 

“Dude, you are seriously fucked up! Get the FUCK out of my house, Vegeta!” Milla shouted, pointing at the door.

He took a couple of steps towards Milla and locked eyes with her, their staring contest commencing once again. 

“I expected more from you, Milla.” Vegeta said, cupping her chin. Her eyes went wide when she heard those words, and a shock went bellowing through her entire body. He was saying things out of pure spite at this point, choosing anything he could say that would hurt her. He scoffed and left without another word. 

Milla stood motionless, eyes still wide as saucers. Her facade crumbled and her knees gave out beneath her as tears streamed down her face. She didn’t feel like she was crying, but the warmth of the little droplets running down her cheeks told her that she was. 

Her body was frozen, those words echoing in her head. 

“I expected more from you, Milla.” Vegeta said.

Their fighting styles are very different from one another. 

Adorabat tends to use bombs and carries them around while she flies. 

Mao Mao uses a sword, making complicated and swift movements using it.