Author's Note: Hello everyone! So, I decided that I'd do my own take on the famed Bulma & Vegeta "unknown story" that everyone seems to cherish...including myself! With the much-appreciated support and assertive convincing on the part of my best friend, I decided to write this story, so it will be not only dedicated to you, my readers, but mainly her as well! I've come to notice that people do a good job of writing their story but not such a great job of making Bulma seem, well, human...as interesting as that may sound. Of course, this is not always the case, but I've decided that I'll be including a few real-life experiences I've had, since Bulma reminds me a lot of myself. I won't be molding her to fit the experience, however - I'll just be including them if they fit into the story, not the other way around.

Anyways, enough of my ranting! Here is the first chapter of Unbreakable!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ...unfortunately!


"That can't be right…" The young, 20-something woman spoke. Her blue eyes were gazing deep into the depths of a contraption she had fixed not mere days ago, which now stood only partly demolished from the brutal beating it had received. Straightening herself up, the girl stared down and felt her anger and aggravation slowly rise to its breaking point. "I can't believe that man…no, animal! Doesn't he know that my inventions are my babies? Yet he persists in pummeling this one until it's barely sparks and wires…" She kneeled, reaching forward and holding a handful of different-colored wires in her petite hands, "What. A. Jerk. Ugh! I swear…" She continued for a few moments, ignoring the heat, frustration, and even grease that were tempting her to go over the edge. There was no way in hell that she'd let this time go without making sure that spoiled brat knew exactly how much work it was to fix the gravity chamber.

"No, not this time Vegeta, if it's the last thing I do, I'll make you regret making me do all this work for nothing!" She yelled to no one in particular, standing up again and managing to avoid one of the protruding thick metal wires that could've easily taken out a taller, unsuspecting subject.

"No, Bulma Briefs is no workhorse. And if that Saiyan…ass can't figure it out, I'll make it crystal clear to him." She thought, stepping out of the ship that had not too long ago aided her good friend Goku in making his trip to Namek. She shook her head, removing small bits of dust and debris that clung to her gorgeous baby blue hair and walked the small length of grass from the backyard into the gigantic mansion called the Briefs home.

Stepping in through the kitchen, she let out an exasperated huff and walked towards the fridge, pulling out a jug of iced tea that her mother had made earlier that morning and poured herself a glass. After returning the jug to its respective place in the refrigerator, she began to walk towards the stairs but stopped promptly at the first step, almost as if frozen in place. She held on to the rail with her left hand while the other held her tea, and moved the upper part of her body so her head would be popping out from behind the doorway, turning her head slowly to see said Saiyan sitting, as regally as possible, in front of the TV, arms crossed. Her eyebrow rose as she watched his facial expressions shift while he watched the 'noise-emitting picture box' as he called it, trying to figure out what was happening in the show. Bulma stifled a laugh, remembering that Vegeta was yet to get used to Earthen culture, and always seemed particularly untrusting of the TV and radio.

"Inanimate objects shouldn't speak or show pictures…" She remembered him mumbling once, after she'd shown him both of the aforementioned itemsand he'd almost seemed threatened by them. She still had to get used to him yelling obscenities at the TV as if it could hear him; it reminded her of the annoying people at the movies who tried to tell the actor what to do even though they knew very well their pleas would fall on deaf ears, except this was better…funnier. The expression on his face was priceless – every time he would get angry, or surprised, or 'scared'…she remembered the countless numbers of TVs they had replaced in Vegeta's first few weeks of visiting, due to a zombie or other undead creature popping up onto the screen when he least expected it. It goes without saying scary movie marathons were her favorite ever since he moved in.

She watched him for a few more minutes in silence, almost surprised that he hadn't turned around to yell at her for 'inspecting him,' as he would say. But as her eyes traveled to the screen, she was met with yet another surprise – was he watching one of her mother's soap operas? She almost fell over when her gaze rested on him again, noticing his concentrated expression and the way his hands were curled up into fists on top of his legs as he sat. She gripped the rail tighter in an attempt to control the laughter that was threatening to ensue, but a few chuckles managed to escape through her pressed pink lips. She froze in place, expecting all hell to break loose when he heard her but, when nothing came, her eyes widened and she noticed that he hadn't moved an inch, and was still sitting unmoved on the sofa.

"Well I'll be damned…I'll have to tell mom about this." Bulma thought, her lips widening into a smile as she lingered her gaze on him for a moment before turning and walking up the steps, taking small sips of her tea as she went. When she reached her desired floor, she walked down the hallway and into her room, setting down the glass on the night table next to her bed and heading into the bathroom. "It'll be nice to get all this grease and dirt out of my hair…" She mumbled, removing her clothes and throwing them into the nearest laundry bin. She turned the water on and stepped into the shower, running shampoo through her hair as if on autopilot while her mind wandered to the Saiyan downstairs. She let out a few bouts of laughter now that she was in the safety of her room, thinking about how concentrated Vegeta had seemed when watching TV. "I'll have to talk to him about the gravity chamber when he's not busy watching my mother's soap operas…" She thought, smiling to herself briefly before trying to imagine how the conversation would go. She shut her eyes, letting out a sigh before her smile dropped and she continued rinsing her hair, "He'll probably throw a fit or something…ugh, that Vegeta. He just doesn't get it! I'm not his slave; he can't keep treating me like I am." Bulma let out a frustrated groan, finally removing all the soap from her body before stepping out and snagging the nearest towel on a rack. After wrapping it around her body, she stepped out of the warm bathroom and into the frigid room, almost sprinting to the wardrobe to slip on her comfortable PJs. After adjusting to the air in her room from the sudden temperature change, she slathered on some cocoa butter lotion before pulling her long, wavy hair up into a ponytail and taking a deep breath before heading back down the stairs.

When she was at the bottom of the stairs, she slowly headed to the empty couch next to the sofa Vegeta was in and plopped down, waiting for the show to end. When it did a few minutes later, she watched the Saiyan begin to relax and she almost regretted what she was about to do; it wasn't often Vegeta relaxed, much less around her for some unknown reason.

"Hey Vegeta…I want to talk to you about something." She sat up from how she'd been lying on the couch, and slung one leg over the edge of the couch while the other remained stretched out in front of her. Her blue eyes never left the Saiyan, and she could see him visibly tense up again, causing one of her eyebrows to perk up in confusion. "Don't get your boxers in a knot; it's about the gravity chamber."

At her mention, said Saiyan stood up suddenly, arms at his sides as he stared down the blue-haired female. "Did you fix it yet? I need to get back to my training and you're making it quite difficult for me to continue."

Bulma bit her tongue to hold back the vicious tongue-lashing she so badly wanted to give him, and settled for the most pleasant words she could muster instead. "Okay Vegeta…first of all, it'd be nice if you showed some more gratitude for the fact that this is the umpteenth time I've fixed the damn thing. Second of all, stop acting like I owe you something. And last of all…stop treating me like your slave! I don't have to fix the chamber, you know. And then I'd like to see YOU try to repair it!" She added, her eyes never unlocking from his. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine as he took a few steps towards her, hairs standing on end as she remained unmoving on the couch.

"You DO owe me something, woman. You should be more appreciative of the fact that I spared your life." He retorted, watching her eyes widen and allowing his lips to settle into his trademark smirk.

Bulma, furious, stood up suddenly and pressed the tip of her right index finger against his clothed chest, trying to ignore the rock-hard pecs she could so easily feel under her finger. "Damn you Vegeta. Why do you have to be so…" She took a breath, shutting her eyes before beginning her verbal onslaught. "Who the HELL do you think you're talking to, Vegeta? All you do is train, eat, sleep, and, on your free time, harass ME! I have fixed that gravity chamber more times than I can count without so much as a thank you! You are a guest in my home, Vegeta, and you need to be more respectful of the ONE person who can fix the chamber for you…other than my dad. But he's sure as hell not going to do it for you." Her cerulean eyes had a fire behind them, which wasn't missed easily by the raven-haired Saiyan in front of her.

Vegeta, trying to grasp the fact that this tiny little human femme had the courage and audacity to speak to him in such a manner, quickly regained his senses and grabbed her arms, making sure his grip wasn't too tight as to hurt her, but strong enough to not allow her much free movement. "Listen woman, you're lucky enough I let you and your little friends live on Namek. I am the prince of all Saiyans, and you will treat me as such and with the respect a good little servant should have, because that's all you are to me." He growled, watching a tinge of shock and hurt flash through her eyes before they were filled by more rage than before.

"You son-of-a—UGH! I don't care if you're the prince of eight thousand universes, Vegeta, you're still a guest in MY home and live under MY rules! Why can't you just understand that and be a little more appreciative? That's ALL I'm asking for…weren't you Saiyans taught anything?" Bulma yelled, shaking her head and causing a few loose strands of hair to flutter helplessly in her anger. She shut her eyes and let out a soft gasp when she felt Vegeta's grip on her arms tighten and barely acknowledged the fact that the gap between their bodies was closing at an alarming rate.

"Don't you dare speak of my race, you ignorant little wench! You know nothing – absolutely nothing of who I am and where I come from, so don't speak of me and much less of my people! How DARE you…you're lucky I don't tear your delicate little head right off those shoulders for being so insubordinate!" Vegeta boomed, teeth clenched as he took in a deep breath, which caused the lingering scent of Bulma's coconut-scented shampoo to reach his nostrils. He allowed the intoxicating fragrance to flood his mind and memory for a brief moment as he watched her, noticing they were only mere inches apart and their noses almost touching.

Bulma, now unfazed by his words, opened her eyes slowly and took a sharp breath, allowing her beautiful blue eyes to lock gaze with his menacing onyx ones. "Let. Me. Go. Vegeta." The words came out almost hissed, and she was briefly shocked to see the two were close enough that she could feel his hot breath tickle her cheeks, turning them a dark pink color.

Vegeta, curious, noticed the sudden change in the hue of her cheeks and held on to her for a moment longer before letting go and crossing his arms in front of his chest, his trademark smirk playing again on his lips. He watched the way she turned quickly on her heel, the tip of her ponytail flicking against his cheek and causing more of the enticing aroma to fill his nostrils. He was tempted to make a remark about her obvious show of defiance but he figured since he had already won there was no point in wasting more of his breath. And so, he watched the feisty young woman storm out of the living room in her satin pinstripe shorts and matching tank top with a satisfied look on his face.

"UGH! That man…JERK! I can't believe him! It's as if saying a simple 'thank you' is the equivalent of ingesting a ton of rat poison." Bulma thought, already at the top of the stairs and heading into her room. She walked past her bed and wardrobe and up to a pair of curtains, pulling them apart with ease and revealing a pair of glass doors that ultimately led to a large balcony – her safe haven. She slid the doors open and stepped out into the crisp night air, reaching up to release her hair from its tied prison and felt as the light strands fell in waves down her shoulders, in a cascade of blue and shimmering silver from the moon's reflection.

"I can't stand him." She huffed, feeling the wind dance with her still-humid locks and tousle them about. She walked up to the rail of the marble balcony and set her crossed arms on the top, which was large enough to where she could reach her arm out and barely touch the side opposite her body with the tips of her fingers. Safe to say, she could probably lie down on the top of the rail of the balcony and never worry about falling off…unless she rolled over one too many times.

She shut her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, releasing them and cleansing her mind briefly until the fight her and Vegeta had just had replayed in her mind. She pressed her eyelids tighter shut, and pressed her fingers against her arms as she held herself, suddenly recalling how close the two had actually gotten. Her cheeks immediately flared up and she gulped, her eyes snapping open in a flash as she tried to shake the thought out of her head. "How can he be so…ugh…cute…and an ass at the same time? I just don't understand. Kami must've cursed me…he probably decided that someone so beautiful and ingenious couldn't be left to live a normal, happy life so he plopped down Vegeta in my path and he's one giant hunk of an obstacle I need to climb over." She paused, eyes widening as she realized her words, "Did I just call him a hunk? KAMI!" She yelled, stomping her feet on the ground and pressing her fingers to her temples, trying to calm the headache that was chomping away at her brain.

Vegeta stepped into his own room, further down the hall from Bulma's but with a similar balcony, only smaller. He had actually been pleased when he'd first laid eyes on it; it was almost fit for a prince – such as himself – unlike the shabby rooms Frieza had given to him and his fellow Saiyans. He scoffed at the thought; Frieza was long dead now and he had a few years before he needed to worry about anyone threatening his existence again. But deep down, he didn't actually care – he was a true Saiyan, and they were infamous for their love of battle and bloodshed. Vegeta had seen many heads roll in his lifetime, and that not only had made him cold, but he could barely remember feeling anything other than anger, hate, and such related emotions for the last decade or so. He couldn't help but notice a hint, barely a pang of a feeling when he remembered the flash of hurt he'd seen in the woman's eyes after he'd insulted her, and it troubled him – if only briefly. He was curious to find out what this feeling was since he wasn't familiar with it in the least, but if it was more trouble than it was worth – much like what he thought of the woman – he'd have to do what he did with most unwanted feelings: either crush them, or suppress them.

His thoughts wandered to the coconut aroma that her hair had emitted, which was now imprinted in his memory and, if he tried hard enough, he could conjure up the exact same smell without the woman even being present. He had to admit he enjoyed the scent; it reminded him of something pleasant, something that could almost make him happy – like training for days to see the results come to fruition. Or maybe even a good, fulfilling meal…ah yes, that was it. The blond one, as he liked to refer to Bulma's mother, had a knack for making even the most unappealing-looking foods taste like Kami himself had conjured them from his homeland. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that that scent, along with the woman's own natural feminine aroma, was what kept him from shutting her up once and for all. He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit he was curious about her, especially the color of her hair; he'd seen various Earthen women but none with the same natural color as Bulma – they either reeked of chemicals or of some other profane stench, which allowed him to pick her out easily from a crowd. Saiyans had an uncanny ability to not only hear extremely well, but their olfactory preceptors were keen in their own sense.

It wasn't until he caught himself thinking too much about Bulma once again that he gave himself a mental slap and plopped down on the bed, staring off into the distance through the glass doors that led to his own balcony, curtains already parted. He crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was deep in thought. He could sense her ki nearby – from her room, to be exact – and he smirked as he felt it rise then fall not a few seconds after. He had learned upon careful studying of the woman that, when she was angry, her ki would rise – a surprising trait that he'd never seen before in any human he'd encountered. It was only for a mere moment, however, and it was obviously no threat to Vegeta, but it had sparked his curiosity in her and he'd made it a point after the initial discovery to make her irate, just to test the theory and be proven correct.

He straightened up when his ears picked up the familiar sound of glass doors closing, followed by the curtains, and lastly the sound of a fragile body falling on a bed. He was about to get ready for bed himself when he heard a muffled yell, causing him to stand up and hesitate to make any kind of movement, just to make sure the woman wasn't trying to trick him. He concentrated on listening to the sounds coming from her room and his eyes widened slightly at what he heard next, voice muffled by a pillow.

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW, VEGETA!"

He smirked.
Vegeta – 1. Woman – 0.


A/N: And there you have it. Thank you guys for reading, and as always, feel free to review - it is always appreciated!