1 - SOFT BLUSHES
"Hold still, Vegeta," the woman snapped.
Vegeta's lip curled up in a partial snarl as his eyes immediately locked on hers, a piercing, black gaze that had cowered kings and generals across the universe.
She planted her hands on her hips and glared back at him. "Look, if you don't want to upgrade your ratty old armor, that's fine. There's the door," she said, and pointed to the exit of her laboratory for emphasis.
He almost left, just on principal, but his old battle suit really wasn't holding up to his manic training regime, and was constantly requiring repairs. So instead, he folded his arms over his chest and turned his face from her, eyes trained on the floor directly in front of him. Silently submitting.
"Hmph." The small, self-satisfied noise that came from her an instant later made him grit his teeth.
She once again stepped up directly behind him, and he fought every instinct within him to turn around, to not leave his back exposed to anyone, not even someone as uselessly weak as she was. He mentally braced himself for her inevitable touch, despising her for putting him in this uncomfortable situation in the first place and feeling oddly self conscious. He had many scars, which was par for the course of being a warrior, but there were a few that tracked vertically down his back that made it obvious that he'd been lashed in the past. The only remaining evidence of his shameful subjugation at Frieza's hands, and he had some loudmouth Earthling staring right at it.
Her fingertips ghosted up his bare skin with a measuring tape, from the waistband of his training shorts to the base of his neck, making the hairs on his nape prickle. At least there were no questions or comments from her, and she did not linger anywhere unnecessarily. Even so, the lab and the foreign equipment within it stirred Vegeta's naturally suspicious nature and conjured unpleasant memories. He practically vibrated in place with the effort to remain motionless as the tape spread across the expanse of his shoulders and then down each arm.
"Can you spread your arms straight out to each side?" she asked, suddenly in front of him, her voice all sweetness now that he was being cooperative. He tensed, his arms automatically clenching where they were crossed in front of him. Tentatively, she brought a hand up and rested it gently on his forearm. "Please? I'm almost done."
Her skin felt cool against his own, and he recalled her mentioning that a Saiyan's normal body temperature ran higher than that of a human. The effect was oddly soothing, like a cold compress applied directly to his frayed nerves and tumultuous ki. He stared at her hand, simultaneously enjoying and hating the sensation.
"Oh, sorry," she said, following his line of sight and breaking contact quickly.
"It's fine," he mumbled. "Just hurry up."
He extended his arms as requested, exposing his scarred torso. Her eyes widened and she took a sharp breath. She had seen him in passing without a shirt on now and then, but never this close, this…personal. His jaw clenched as she wound the tape around his chest and then his waist, waiting for some biting remark on how marred his flesh was or, even worse, pity towards the ghastly story it told of his life.
She stepped back and inspected him one more time before grabbing her notebook, his arms promptly tightening over his chest defensively.
"Kami, you are just perfection," she said under her breath as she added the rest of his measurements, her cheeks turning several shades of pink as she realized that she had said it aloud. She giggled nervously and tried to lighten the mood in her usual and aggravating way, by teasing him. "I bet you've left a trail of broken hearts all over the galaxy," she said slyly with a wink.
"We're done here, I take it?" he growled, turning on his heel and exiting the lab before she could see the evidence of the heat on his own face. He could feel her rolling her eyes at his back, her way of still getting in the last word. The woman was absolutely insufferable.
He didn't know what he was more ashamed of, the fact that she could so easily leave him flustered and unsure of himself, or that her compliment had been so honest in it's unintentional delivery that he couldn't help but feel flattered by it. Then there was the added embarrassment at her implication that he'd had many lovers, as if he could trust anyone enough to let his guard down or afford to have any attachments while living under Frieza's thumb.
All he knew was that after the indignities he'd just endured, this new armor had better surpass all of his expectations.