Bzzt.

Vegeta's fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, "Hey hot stuff. What you doin'? ;)"

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He'd only been working at Capsule Corp for about a year and she was already way too friendly. Didn't she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: "I have sandwiches."

"Why do I keep doing this to myself?" Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn't give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma's private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the "regular" people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma's work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he'd feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he'd ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she'd cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman...

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, "UM, you're welcome!"

"I didn't ask you to buy me lunch." He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, "I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often."

"Wha-damnit woman I'm going to sue you for sexual harassment!" Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, "why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?"

Bulma laughed, "Not when it comes to you!" She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, "I didn't know you wore glasses!"

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, "Not that it's any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here."

"Pffft," Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, "What I was going to say is that they make you look smart."

"Well, of course they-Hey!"

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, "Hurry up grumpy. I'm starving."

He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma's desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta's shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He'd had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma's own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, "What's that?" He asked around the mouthful.

"Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I'm just adjusting the pod accordingly." She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

"Hmpf, some genius." He teased.

"Hey bucko," Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, "it's beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don't you forget it." she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn't going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until...

...She smiled at him.

He hadn't caught her staring, didn't even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, "What?" She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, "It was pissing me off," he grumbled, "the hair, I mean. I'm going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don't look like a damn mess. It's a health hazard around here anyways."

"O-oh," Bulma smiled, "don't worry about it. I've uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care."

"I don't!" Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, "It just, its-"

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, "Whatever you say hot stuff." She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He'd owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn't matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He'd been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he'd be kicked out. Vegeta didn't mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he'd done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.

Fuck.

Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw a blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, "And where do you think you're going tiger? You're starting right now."

"B-Bulma!" Dr. Briefs had stammered, "This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn't wish to associate with us-"

Bulma's blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta's shoulder to grin at her father, "Daddy, he is JUST who we need."

"B-but princess-"

"Nice to meet you," the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, "I'm Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It's a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You're office is down the hall, it's the door right next to mine. You start immediately."

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, "Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you're cute to boot."

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he'd been told no. They're upbringings couldn't have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn't eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, "Eat." He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He'd stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn't know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She'd never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?