Sequel to Think Twice Before Asking. Mood Swings Challenge - Moody

Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama is the sole owner of Dragon Ball/Z and related characters and settings. I am merely a humble amateur trying to imitate the greatness.

When Bulma came down for breakfast, she was not the least surprised that her mother was already present. Mrs. Briefs smiled at her daughter, while busily flitting around the kitchen, putting away dirty dishes and setting out new plates filled with food. Bulma half-expected the Saiyan she had so unthinkingly invited into her home to be present as well but he was nowhere to be found.

"Morning, dear. Did you sleep well?" Mrs. Briefs chirped, taking in her daughter's weary appearance and pausing in her work to smooth down an errant strand of hair that had escaped its confines.

"So-so," Bulma replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I had some cramps but a hot water bottle helped."

"Oh my, is it your time of the month?" the blonde inquired and Bulma nodded.

"Yeah and it sucks as usual," she grumbled while her mother tutted at her.

"That's not a language a lady should use," the older woman reproached.

"Like there is anyone I want to impress," Bulma defended herself.

"And what about that nice young man you brought home?"

"Mom," Bulma knew that her mother was often oblivious to the happenings around her but still. "I told you before that Yamcha is away on a long training trip."

It was easier to explain it that way than upsetting her mother by saying Yamcha was dead.

"Oh, I didn't mean Yamcha, dear. I was talking about Mr. Vegeta. Are you alright, dear?" Mrs. Briefs asked Bulma who had started choking on the coffee and when Bulma nodded, she went on. "As I was saying, such a nice man. A little shy but it adds to that 'strong and silent' appeal of his."

"Vegeta's not shy!" Bulma claimed. "He's an asshole."

"Bulma Briefs!" Mrs. Briefs seemed downright scandalized. "That's no way to talk about our guests!"

"He deserves it."

Mrs. Briefs turned to face her daughter fully, studying her for a moment before a smile appeared on her face again.

"Ah, I get it now. A little lover's spat, isn't it? How exciting! But you need to make up soon, you know."

Bulma stared at her mother before attempting to explain. Because even if letting her mother go on believing some things was often the easiest way, in this case that would be disastrous.

"No, Mom," Bulma stated firmly. "Vegeta threatened to burn off my hair last night."

"No!" Mrs. Briefs gasped. "why would he do such a thing? Doesn't he like the style?"

Bulma snorted at that. As if she would ever go so far as to ask a fashion advice from Vegeta. The man didn't even seem aware that something like fashion existed. Among other things.

"It's not that. He just overreacted to something," Bulma nodded decisively.

"Bulma," there was a disappointed tone in her mother's voice. "Did you provoke him?"

The blue-haired genius fidgeted a bit. She had taken his plate to get his attention and to provoke him a bit. But he had started it.

"He started it!" and even to her own ears she sounded more like a whiny child than a mature woman of almost thirty years of age.

"Are you sure that you weren't the one who had overreacted?"

"Certainly not," Bulma huffed but her mother shook her head knowingly.

"Dear, you said it yourself that it's your time of the month and you know your temper is much shorter at this point."

"He came in, asking about why I smelt like blood and then, when I tried to explain, he ignored me just to stuff his face. Don't tell me I wasn't in the right to get angry."

Bulma stared at her mother expectantly. Mrs. Briefs sighed and went to the counter, took the coffee pot, refilled Bulma's cup and then sat down opposite her daughter for some serious talking to.

"Bulma, men are usually very uncomfortable when it comes to discussing our state at that particular time. They have no idea what it's like and they can't ever understand. It's a bit of a mystery to them and trying to talk to them about it, at meal time no less... You should have let him eat in peace and explain afterwards."

Bulma smirked inside at how she had gone about enlightening the alien Prince before something else caught her attention. Her mother was telling her that she had been in the wrong.

"I can't believe it," Bulma exclaimed. "You are taking that alien jerk's side over mine."

"Dear, I'm not taking sides. I'm trying to make you see where you went wrong. And you just said it yourself. Mr. Vegeta is an alien, not human. He couldn't have known about our kind. Although, it's clear he's out of this world," Mrs. Briefs giggled girlishly. "They just don't make men like him on Earth. A handsome, alien Prince. Oooh, I'm so lucky to have him in the house."

Bulma ignored her mother's ramblings on Vegeta's perceived good points. What was harder to ignore was her conscience. Drowned in a bout of righteous anger of the previous day, she had thought she had been right to take her revenge on him. Now, after her mother had pointed out that he was not like other men from Earth, since he literally wasn't from there, Bulma was starting to see her behaviour could be seen as kind of... bitchy.

She had blown up at him the same way she would at any man, having forgotten that Vegeta lacked the cultural understanding of a human being. Without his tail, he looked no different and she had let the outward appearance sway her reasoning. And she claimed to be a genius scientist. She was a shame to all scientists, drawing her conclusions without delving into the heart of the problem. There was only one thing to do.

"Mom?" she mercilessly interrupted the speech of how darkly handsome Vegeta was to ask her question. "Do you know where Vegeta could be right now?"

"Oh, you miss him already?"

Bulma opened her mouth to furiously deny any such thing, then she realized how futile such an endeavour was when it came to her mother - she would think what she wanted to think - and responded meekly.

"Yeah, something like that."

"I have seen him heading to the gardens after breakfast. He looked a bit peaky, didn't have the usual appetite either. Oh my, do you think he's falling ill?" Mrs. Briefs clapped her hands. "Then we must nurse him back to health. I'll make him a chicken soup, that makes everyone better."

Her conscience now fully awoken, Bulma winced guiltily. Spoiling a Saiyan appetite. Way to go. She had managed to do the impossible. Let it not be said that Bulma Briefs did things half-way.

"I don't think it'll be necessary," seeing her mother's crestfallen face, she tried to cheer her up. "You can still make the soup for lunch, can't you?"

"You're right, Bulma. Now shoo," the older woman winked at her daughter. "Go find your Prince."

Bulma rolled her eyes but complied. Her mother was best taken in in small doses and she had more important things to do right now, anyway. Like finding a certain Saiyan and apologizing for being a bitch. That was going to be fun for sure.

The gardens of the Capsule Corporation compound were enormous and looking for a single person in them was a work of several hours if one didn't know where to look. Bulma, though, had a brain that worked on a genius level and so instead of searching blindly for a wayward alien Prince, she went to the first Namekian she saw and asked him to sense Vegeta's position. With that information, it took her only ten minutes to locate the man she sought.

He was sitting under a large tree and seemingly ignored her approach, his eyes closed, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent at the knee and his arms loosely slung over the raised leg. He looked relaxed but unapproachable at the same time. Bulma took a deep breath. He had said himself he wouldn't kill her. And her hair, well, it would grow back after a while, wouldn't it?

"Hey, Vegeta."

No acknowledgement, not even a twitch to let her know he was aware of her presence, though Bulma knew enough about warriors to realize that he must have sensed her coming a long time ago. Well, if he thought she would leave just because he was ignoring her, he was in for a surprise. Bulma Briefs could outstubborn anyone and that included alien Princes from a warrior race. She sat down next to him, crossed her arms and looking to the side, started on her mentally revised speech.

"You know, I wanted to say I was sorry for yesterday. I didn't consider all of the circumstances and I took for granted that you would have the same cultural perceptions as me. What I did at the dinner, the papers I left you, it was uncalled for. I was being a bitch and I'm sorry."

She twiddled her thumbs together nervously. C'mon, say something. But the Saiyan remained stubbornly silent. Bulma sighed and leaned back.

"You know, I'm really trying here. It wouldn't kill you to at least say something, even if it's to tell me you'll never forgive me for what I did."

That got her his attention at last. He turned to face her and smirked.

"You must have me confused with someone else. I wouldn't hold a grudge over something so petty."

"How gracious of you," Bulma shot back without thinking.

"Yes, very much so," he agreed sarcastically. "You have said your piece, now you can leave."

"So am I forgiven?" she pushed for a clear verbal confirmation from him.

"Yes, whatever."

"Great," Bulma knew she should stand up and leave while she was ahead but she couldn't resist pushing her luck a bit more. "Friends again?" she offered him her hand to shake and was treated to the sight of Vegeta looking more insulted than she had ever seen him.

"We were never friends, you insane woman!"

"Insane? I guess so, since I'm trying to be nice to you," she flung back. Vegeta humphed and turned away from her.

"Take your hormonal imbalance induced delusions away from my presence," he ordered, leaving her speechless.

"You... you read those papers."

"Of course. The material was unnecessarily graphic but it was comprehensive enough."

"But it was taken from a specialized medicinal journal. You need to have a college level education to understand it."

Vegeta looked unbearably smug.

"I'm not some human simpleton like you. I know things you couldn't even dream about. I am the superior being here and you would do well to remember it."

Ignoring his ego trip for now - an occurence that would grow quite frequent in the consequent weeks and months - Bulma was trying to grasp the implications. She had once again underestimated him. First she had forgotten he was an alien, ignorant of the human culture, behaviour and physique. And then she had lumped him into the 'warriors don't care for the science' category, never realizing that the fact he was a warrior didn't preclude him having smarts to understand things beyond battle. Never again, she vowed to herself. She wouldn't ever underestimate Vegeta. It might come and bite her in the ass in the least expected manner.

"All right, Prince Vegeta," she stood up. "I'll take my leave for now. But we are going to become friends, whether you like it or not."

"It's never going to happen."

"We shall see, Vegeta, we shall see."

With that, Bulma almost flounced out of the garden, leaving the Saiyan staring after her with a dubious look in his eyes. Hormonal imbalance or not, she was clearly insane and he would have nothing to do with her if he could help it. Being friends with her! As if he would ever lower himself like that. Not in a million years. And that was his final decision.

THE END