A/N: Takes place the night after Bulma's 39th birthday party. Spoilers for Battle of the Gods movie. I thought I wasn't going to write another one of these...


Bulma waved happily as everyone headed home in the small hours of the night, with Vegeta uncharacteristically standing close beside her, arms crossed and looking sullen as always.

He must still be pissed that Goku didn't show himself immediately, she thought. Then again, I did get to experience something amazing.

She thought again of what had happened. She was temporarily stunned after the hardest slap to the face she had ever received. But as she opened her eyes, she watched Vegeta rage, all for her. He had called her "his Bulma." He had been so pissed that she had been hurt that he took on a god. And in the aftermath, he had spent the rest of her birthday staying close by her side. Never touching, no, that would be inappropriate in public, but barely a hair's breadth away.

Now Vegeta had headed off towards the house. After ordering the robot maids to clean up, Bulma went after him, into the master bedroom, which really was her old room with added soundproofing. She stepped through the doorway and the door slid quietly shut, leaving her in the dim light with her husband, who had barely stepped further into the room than she had.

Not saying a word, she brushed past him, running a hand down his arm and taking his hand in her soft grasp. She led him to bed and gently guided him to sit down. He seemed tired, not just physically, but spiritually as well. Sitting next to him, she leaned over to look at him.

Vegeta turned to her slowly, and cupped her chin with the lightest of caresses. He gingerly angled her head so that he could see her bruised cheek, and stared at it for the longest time.

"I'm fine now," she said. When he didn't answer, she waited a few more moments. Finally, Bulma couldn't hold herself back. "What is it?" she asked.

"I'm memorizing your injury."

"Why?"

"So I remember what happens when I don't have the strength to protect you."

Bulma's heart melted and she closed her eyes, feeling his fingers gingerly touching her face, her cheek, and then she felt his lips on her skin with featherlight caresses.

She opened her eyes and looked at her darling prince. He had his eyes closed, and took a deep breath. He leaned his forehead against hers and they sat for a while like that, just enjoying each other's presence. Bulma never really understood why Vegeta did this, but whenever he did, she just went along with it. It must be one of those Saiyan things, she figured. After the fight with Cell, and especially after the fight with Buu, his mind melding or whatever it was had increased, and Bulma reasoned that it must be the only real way he could convey any kind of loving emotion, and while she probably should have asked him what it meant, part of her just enjoyed the intimate act of him trying to just be with her, pure and simple.

Vegeta finally lifted his head and looked at her. He pulled her into bed with him and held her tight as they both fell asleep.

That night, Bulma dreamed of old times, a memory of when they had first started to realize that maybe that one night of passion was not just a singular event.

She had been working on the gravity room, bent over one of the consoles, tools in her belt and spare wires and nuts and bolts in every pocket of her cargo pants. Her tank top was smeared with grease and she had a couple of grease marks on her cheeks as well. The console she was working on had jagged metal edges where Vegeta had misfired, causing the whole system to shut down. Usually he didn't aim at the console, but he claimed one of the training drones had led him over here and he hadn't thought about it, just fired. Grumbling about stupid Saiyans not paying attention to her handiwork, she didn't pay attention to one of the edges on the side of the console.

While dragging out part of the circuit board from within the console, she tripped on a screwdriver she had left lying around. As she fell she scraped her arm along one of the metal edges, cutting her skin open. She hissed in pain, and twisted her arm to see the damage. A long cut, a good 6 inches, ran down her upper arm. Not a stranger to cuts and scrapes, Bulma walked over to the first aid kit, which had unsurprisingly never been opened, and started to treat her wound.

"What are you doing?"

Bulma jolted as Vegeta walked into gravity room. "I'll have you know that I'm fixing your precious training equipment, that YOU stupidly shot at!" she yelled, while trying to pull the bandage tight around her arm.

She was surprised to see him kneel down next to her and grab her wounded arm.

"Ow, what are you—"

"You are terrible at this."

"Why you…" Bulma's tirade trailed off as Vegeta slowly unwrapped her arm and re-wrapped it properly.

"Thanks," she finally said.

"Can't have you screwing up your own recovery," he sneered. "Now fix my equipment." He stood up and started to leave.

"You…," Bulma said, confused and wondering if she should be happy that he cared, or angry that he insulted her and was making more demands of her.

Vegeta had stopped at the doorway. Without turning around to face her, he said, "Stop being clumsy," and walked away, leaving her even more confused at his much gentler tone, despite the harsh words.

A few days later, her cut was just an angry red line on her arm, but Vegeta still eyed it whenever he walked past her. She didn't think anything about it then, but now she thought maybe he cared?

Bulma woke up from her dream, wondering why she had dreamed of that memory in particular. She would only admit to herself that she was a bit clumsy, and had often cut herself on accident in the lab. Turning over in bed, she noticed Vegeta was starting to wake up as well.

"Hey."

"Hn."

"Remember that time I hurt myself fixing the gravity room?"

"I can't remember all the hundreds of times you've hurt yourself doing that, woman."

"The time you wrapped a bandage around my arm."

Vegeta was silent for a moment. "What about it?"

"Did you care about me then?"

He huffed. "Probably not." After a few seconds, he continued, "It bothered me to see you hurt, that's all. I didn't really register that as 'caring' at the time."

Bulma just smiled and nodded. Her stubborn, emotionally-stunted-but-getting-better man. She cuddled up to him, and winced as her cheek pulsed with a dull pain.

Vegeta rolled her over so her hurt cheek wasn't on his chest, and held her to him for a few more minutes before getting up to get ready to train.

"I'll try not to get hurt today," she said as he was about to leave their room.

"Try harder," he muttered as he left. Bulma smiled.