The morning sun slipped through the window, spreading over the bedroom like golden butter. It reached a sleeping beauty who was about five-six and had a head full of blue hair. It awoken her silently as her lashes fluttered and her sparkling saphire eyes came to life.

Nights out with Yamcha gave Bulma some of the most goreous sleep that she had ever had. She melted out of bed, with a smile on her face, and padded to the bathroom. There she thought about how much she was in love with Yamcha, just the way a smitten fourteen-year-old would do. She swooned and sighed as she flushed toilet, as she brushed her teeth, as she got dressed, and as she climbed down stairs. It seemed as though she was completely at peace. That was, until Vegeta marched into the kitchen where she went to help herself in the refrigerator.

"Do you have any idea how long I have be waiting?," asked Vegeta. He said "waiting" as he said "dog turd sandwich."

"Waiting, for what?," questioned Bulma, never taking her eyes off the onion bagels and the frozen pastries in the freezer, which she was debating over for a while.

"Food! You know, I kind of need it to continue training!"

"I showed you how to use the microwave."

"And that suddenly implied I was to cook for myself, heh, get real."

"Me, get real? You're a grown man who can't even fix his own meals. Be honest with yourself before you suddenly accuse other of not 'being real'," answered Bulma. finally selecting the onion bagels as she tossed them onto the counter.

Vegeta grew angry. Why was she suddenly so witty, and why all the goofy smiles and random giggles? Must have been the human she was seeing. Did humans realy become so ignorant when it came to their emotions? He silently thanked Kami above for him being born a saiyan. The Prince of all Saiyans to be exact. That's when it clicked.

"No, I shouldn't, because I'm the Prince of all Saiyans."

"Um, Sorry, you've done used that one, it's so old.", giggled Bulma.

For once Vegeta gave up. She was just too damn goofy, it was hard for her to even remember that he could snap her in two and blast her into oblivion. This would also count as the first time Vegeta had ever admitted to himself that he had given up and he was okay with it. There were more goofy things going on besides just Bulma.

Vegeta eventually talked Bulma into ordering him pizza that afternoon. As Bulma chose a slice and slapped the grease-ridden food on her plate, she left the Saiyan to his meal, but he didn't begin to eat right away. He paused when he looked down at one of the pizza boxes.

He had heard Bulma say that she loved Yamcha. Then again heard her say that she loved her parents. He had even thought of Goku and how he said that he loved all of his friends. Bulma kissed her parents, but not the way she would kiss her friends, or Goku, and she deffinately kissed Yamcha a very different way than she kissed them. She embraced them a different way. She spoke to them differently. Was there a different love that he didn't know about?

Slowly, he ate his pizza, and Bulma came into the kitchen to put her plat into the sink. She had noticed that Vegeta was not savagely smacking his lunch theway he normally would. She knew something was up.

"Hey Vegeta, is something bothering you?"

Vegeta raised his eyebrows in response to her question, swallowed the mouthful of food, and said," Actually, there is."

"Well, do you want to tell me?"

"No."

"What?"

"No."

Bulma closed her eyes into little slits and glared at the stubborn Prince. Why was did he always act this way, he was impossible! She folded her arms and sat down at the table in front of him.

"And why not?"

"Because, I don't want to tell you. You're always meddiling in my business constantly and quite frankly, im getting tired of it."

"Why do you have to start an argument over everything."

"You started it it. I mean if you'd just mind your own damn business..." Vegeta trailed off to give her a sarcastic hint.

Bulma pushed her chair away from the table, infuriated, and stood up to him. "Well fine, Prince of the Flying Monkeys, you keep it to yourself, and you'l find that what ever it is that's bothering you, will eat at you mercilessly until you can't sllep, you can't eat, and you can't think!" She said with her forefinger penetrating closer and closer to his face that he almost became cross-eyed. Then she stomped off in annoyance and ran upstairs. Vegeta finished off the rest of the, now cold, pizza and went to the gravity room, resuming previous training.

Bulma squeezed a puff of her sweetest, most expensive perfume she owned on her chest. She was now ready to go out on a date with Yamcha. She examined herself carefully in her full length mirror. Was her dress showing underwear lines of any sort (even though she opted for thong underwear because going without bothered her to no end)? Was her make-up too dramatic for a resturaunt? Did her heels make her butt look too big and would they make her taller than Yamcha? Pleased with her looks, in her clingy pink dress and white, spike heels, she grabbed her bag and trotted from her bedroom, down stairs.

"I'm going out!" She called from the bottom of ther stairs, but no one answered back.

"Hmmm." Bulma gave a half smile thinking that it was usual for Vegeta to be training and not care where the hell she was going, but she couldn't help but pondering about what could be bothering him so bad. She shrugged her tiny shoulderd and left as Yamcha pulled up and let her in.

The whole car ride to the resturaunt, Bulma had not uttered a sound except for a heeving sigh as she gazed out the car window. Yamcha raised a brow at her and grabbed her knee.

"Babe, is something the matter? Do you want to go somewhere different?" asked Yamcha with concern.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, this is fine, I was just thinking. There's sometihng wrong with Vegeta, and he won't tell me and, call me crazy, but I'm worried."

"Crazy."

"Yamcha."

"Look, do you think that if there as something the matter with you, Vegeta would be as concerned as you?," asked Yamcha.

Bulma never thought of it that way. Maybe he was right, no, of course Yamcha was right! Why should she sit there, racking her very educated mind about something bothering an insane killer? So she smiled and grabbed her botfriend's free hand and closed it inside hers and said, "You're so right."

Vegeta on the other hand couldn't stop wondering about what exactly was going on on their 'date'. From his seven years of actually living on Planet Vegeta, he only remembered the men and women going of to either fight, or mate. Bulma was no warrior, so there was only one thing left he could logicallyplug in to make sense to him. He quickly shok that thought. That just seemed to bother him more.

All he wanted to now is, is what love is. Bulma was gone, doing Kami-knows-what with Yamcha, so the only other person that could help him, was a certain fellow Saiyan, but that was a no go. Vegeta was too proud to ask a third class clown about an ignorant emotion he shouldn't even be concerned with. The woman who took him in, however, was constantly trying to convert him to human ways like a mother weaning a stubborn toddler. He could always wait and ask her later, and if she made any wise cracks at him, he could garuntee she's be turned to a bloody pulp at his feet.

She barely engaged in conversation, and had only touched very little of the food that grew colder on her plate. Yamcha couldn't beleive that she was worried about someone like that. Bulma was supposed to be having fun with him, not worrying about some other guy.

Again Yamcha tried to probe her out of thinking of him, and began to stimulate thoughts on other subjects. H eeven attempted to bring up eachother's futures, which she usually got all swoony over and went down the list of where they'd be, how much money they would make, how many children they would have together, all the way down the line to where thewy would retire. The way it was looking to the boy, those wonderful predictions wouldn't be happening, thanks that Saiyan burden living in his girlfriend's home.