She couldn't resist. Moments like these were too rare to be anything but exploited - and hoarded for later moments when she needed a reminder that moments like these could exist.

She launched herself onto the cushion next to Vegeta and landed with a thud that caused the whole couch to heave. His complaint at her intrusion was nothing more than a generic combination of an automatous scowl and a half-hearted snarl, more out of principle than aggravation. Pleased with herself, she ignored him while she lifted his arm around her and settled her weight against his side.

When his growl retreated almost as quickly as it came, and he didn't even attempt to throw a waspish barb at her – not even for appearances! - she knew she had a sleepy Saiyan sitting next to her. She lifted her head and peered at him from the corner of her eye. Without looking down, his annoyed gaze flicked at her briefly before his attention was again turned to the television. She watched his profile just long enough to confirm the glassy look in his eye and noted his slowly drooping eyelid. She grinned and snuggled up against his warmth as she turned her head towards the television as well, curious to know what he was watching.

She arched an eyebrow and swallowed her mirth before it could escape her mouth in what would probably come out as a cross between a snort and chuckle. "Vegeta. What the hell are you watching?"

At the sound of his name, he jolted and stiffened. She bit her lips to keep herself from smiling. With her face resting against him, he'd probably feel the muscles of her mouth move and she would suddenly find herself without a pillow.

His breathing hitched; he probably hadn't known what he was watching and only bothered to pay attention after she had dragged his awareness out of the shadows. "It is…" His voice came out gruffly before he sighed, exasperated. "It is of no more or less interest to me than any other program and I found it not worth my effort to find another."

She did smile, this time. "Ah." Not able to resist, she added, "For a second there, I thought you had developed a sudden interest in the Thunder Cats."

He grunted noncommittally in response, unable to admit disgust at his 'chosen' program, but unwilling to admit he hadn't been paying attention.

After a few minutes, he started to settle again.

She knew he was dozing and didn't want to confess. She had learned long ago that he had the ability to sleep with his eyes open, blinking every so often and turning his head towards sounds. Everything needed for the appearance of wakefulness.

It hadn't taken her long to make this discovery; he was very good at faking it. So much so that, when she had made the mistake of touching him while in such a state, he had awoken to find he had lifted her by the throat and pinned her to the wall. It had been too fast and she had been too shocked to respond beyond staring at him with wide, incredulous eyes. He had slowly lowered her back to her feet and released her. At least he had looked embarrassed. He hadn't apologized, but after days of following her around without saying anything, she finally turned on him and demanded to know why he was moping. He had surprised her by answering right away; like he had been waiting for her to ask for an explanation rather than offer it freely. He had said that in his years with Frieza, one learned sleep when one could, but not without taking precautions. He hadn't trusted anyone to guard him while he was vulnerable, and instead learned to be, in a way, always alert.

It had taken years, but his progress showed when he actually slept in her presence– deeply relaxed and with his eyes closed.

She trailed her hand across his chest and reached across his lap for his tail, lightly thumping against the far cushion. As her fingers closed around it, it snaked around her arm and she felt his chest vibrate against her when he started to purr. She looked up at him. "You should take a nap."

He grunted in distaste, but the sound was tempered because he hadn't stopped purring to do so. "I am a warrior. I do not take naps." Abruptly, he stopped purring – likely because he had just realized he had been doing so as he spoke. He frowned and pulled his tail away.

"Hey! I was petting that."

Growling, he scowled down at her. "I am not your kitten. You will not 'pet' me for your inane self-soothing."

In direct contradiction of his words, his tail had somehow found itself back in her grasp. She waited a few moments, but when he didn't seem to notice, she leaned into him and whispered in his ear.

"But I like petting your tail. And apparently, your tail does as well." She knew it was evil, but she couldn't help it. Because she knew how sensitive his tail was, and how uncontrollably arousing it would be for him, she roughly gripped the appendage and stroked the fur the wrong way. At the same time, she murmured, "It's so soft and fluffy…"

He yowled and launched himself up so quickly, she nearly fell off the couch. She had to search the room for a moment before she found him standing 15 feet away, eyes wide and panting heavily. And obviously aroused.

He looked at her, accusation and betrayal on his features. His eyebrows sank over eyes that sparked in anger. As he stared at her, his face fell from fury into a desperate pout. "But.. It's MY tail!" He wailed in such a way that she wasn't sure if he were trying to convince her, himself, or his tail.

Apparently, he heard how pathetic he sounded and grimaced. Abruptly, he turned in an about face and huffed over his shoulder, "And it's NOT…fluffy," before rigidly stalking off.

She watched him storm away and perked up, interested. "Hey! Where ya goin?"

From somewhere out of sight he snarled, "To take a nap."

She grinned and threw herself off the couch. "I'm coming with!"

"Feh. Of course you are," came his sour response.

She got to the top of the stairs just in time to see him enter her room. By the time she crossed the threshold, he was already in her bed. She smiled. Like a grumpy child throwing a tantrum, his back was turned to her in a clear message that said, I may be in here, but I don't have to like it.

Crawling under the covers, she grabbed an extra pillow and shoved it under her head. Vegeta was on the edge of the bed, as far away from her as he could get. She rolled her eyes and allowed herself to relax into the softness of the mattress.

She had almost fallen asleep several times, but each time she was drifting into slumber, Vegeta would shift position, pulling her to wakefulness. She was sure he had tried every position there was and couldn't understand why the Saiyan couldn't sit still. The fourth time he snatched dreamland from her, she nearly yelled at him to go find somewhere else to toss and turn. The comment burned in her throat unsaid when he turned to face her, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her to his chest. Vegeta… spooning. Wisely, she found the restraint to keep from giggling.

She waited a few minutes, testing to see if it was safe to attempt sleep. He wasn't moving around, anymore, but she knew he was still awake. What the hell? He was clearly exhausted. What's the freaking problem?

Suddenly, she felt something soft snake around her arm and wriggle forcefully into her fingers. By habit, she started to stroke the silky fur and she felt Vegeta relax behind her. She took a deep breath –

"Not a word," he said curtly.

Her breath deflated. Well, she could tease him about ownership of his tail later. She could let him sleep. She closed her eyes, but couldn't suppress a wide grin. Hmf. It is to fluffy!

He growled. "I heard that."

She wilted. Oops. She had forgotten about Saiyan telepathy. Heh. Oh, well.

Snuggling against him, she brought his tail up to her face and stroked it idly as they both sunk into slumber - each wearing a soft, peaceful smile.