This is slightly more intimate than I like to portray everyone's favorite Saiyan Prince, but clearly Vegeta had some ~emotional~ growth during the Buu saga, and I wanted the challenge of exploring that a little while keeping him in character. Success? Who knows! R&R would be so appreciated!

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters!

Changed

The craft ride back to Capsule Corp. was a quiet one; Trunks snoozed gently, purple head against the window, while his parents stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact, or any other sort of interaction that would lead to a potential conversation. It was awkward, to say the least. Finally, Bulma cleared her throat, though her gaze remained locked on the road before them.

"Well, thanks for deciding to help save the world, even though you contributed to its almost demise. Again…" she said stiffly, managing a crooked smile.

She waited for the biting, Earth-is-stupid-and-deserves-to-be-blown-up reply, but received none. Not even a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Hello, your majesty, I'm talking to you."

"Obviously,"Vegeta quipped, brows furrowing.

Finally, Bulma turned to look at her husband, who sat cross-armed beside her. He had never looked so tired—and she had seen him after his longest training sessions. The craft pulled in to the Capsule Corp. property, and Bulma parked it.

Trunks stirred awake and rubbed his eyes.

"Are we home? I'm starving!" He said with a simultaneous yawn and stomach growl.

"Yup, sure are! Run inside and have Grandma make ya some dinner! Whatever you want!" Bulma said cheerily, ushering him towards the main house.

"Cool!" Trunks looked at his parents, almost as if to make sure they were really both still there, then ran to find his grandmother.

Vegeta moved to follow, but Bulma held up a finger to stop him.

"Wait a minute, mister. If you think we aren't going to talk about this, you have another thing coming," she said haughtily, placing her hands on her hips.

The Saiyan prince sighed, although he did not protest. He knew the woman well, and assumed she would need to verbally "process" everything that had happened. Although he would never admit it, he wasn't sure that he blamed her.

"Ok, spit it out, then," he muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the parked craft.

"Spit it out? SPIT IT OUT? Vegeta, you killed innocent people! You tried to kill Goku! AGAIN. You almost killed ME. And THEN, you killed YOURSELF. What, is this some Saiyan holiday I didn't get the memo about? KILL EVERYONE DAY?" She shouted at the warrior, her face red and fists clenched. She then, without warning, threw her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could.

"You idiot, you complete idiot, you jerk! I hope you learned your freaking lesson. Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again. EVER. Or I'll kill you myself," she buried her face in the crook of his neck and took in his scent, comforted by it. She remembered when these displays used to make him tense; it was strange to think that her husband, whom she loved so deeply, was once the villain she feared, and who quite genuinely hated her in return. It was even stranger to think how close to that villain he had been in the stadium, only what felt like moments before.

Vegeta smirked at this, allowing her to hold him, but not returning the embrace. "I'd like to see you try and kill me," he replied, finally placing a hand in her soft hair. Her presence comforted him, as well, although this was information he would take to his grave.

"Don't tempt me, I might surprise you," the scientist shot, loosening her hold around his neck so she could look up at him. "Do you really hate Goku so much you would let that little green freak control your mind to beat him? What about Trunks, and me? Seriously, are you that unhappy here?" she looked at her husband with genuine concern, blue eyes full of hurt.

"You're forgetting the part where I sacrificed myself to protect you and the brat, then teamed up with that clown Kakarot to defeat Buu," Vegeta replied stiffly, returning her gaze.

"Then WHY?" Bulma pressed.

Vegeta closed his eyes and massaged his temple with his free hand. "It was a moment of weakness," he muttered, noticing how fatigued and sore his body felt, despite his wounds having been healed. He opened his eyes, again meeting his wife's, and immediately saw in her expression that this answer was unsatisfactory.

"Before I came to this silly planet," he began again, "there were many things I had not experienced. It was—perplexing—to me. You offered me shelter, food, clothing, and built me machinery which enabled me to train in ways I had not previously conceived possible."

Bulma raised an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to continue.

Vegeta sighed and gritted his teeth, but kept on. He hated these intimate discussions. "Then we—well, there was more than just hospitalities," the Saiyan's ears tinted red. It was odd to Bulma that Vegeta, completely comfortable with blood, guts, and immeasurable amounts of violence, could not even allude to shared nudity without extreme discomfort. "Then there was the boy," the Saiayn continued, "and I was distracted from my training; I am always distracted from my training here," he paused, "and I… enjoy …sometimes, your company, instead of my solitude. I have been content with this life as your mate and the brat's father. I have been content to train with no goals, no opponents to best, and no planets to conquer. I have not been a warrior while here." He clenched his fist.

Bulma's gaze softened. She opened her mouth to reply, but the Saiyan cut her off with a passionate kiss. It was so rare that he engaged in physical intimacy (or any sort of intimacy, for that matter,) outside of their sex-life, that Bulma did not protest, but leaned into his lips. He broke the kiss and stared intently at her, his hold so firm it seemed he was afraid she would disappear.

"And yet, you share your bed with me, whether I am a true warrior or not. I aim my deadly blast at you, and you transport me home in your human craft. You watch me betray those who you care for, and you hold me in your arms. I could destroy you at any moment, and almost have before, still you do not shrink away from me. If anything, you idiotically move closer. You are considered a genius on this planet, but you are stupid and blind when it comes to matters concerning myself. I am a weakness to you, just as you are a weakness to me. Only I have never done one thing to deserve your devotion." He wanted to go on, admit what he had felt when Kakarot told him Bulma was dead, admit that the idea of never seeing her again terrified him more than Frieza ever could. But, as usual, his pride was too great and he resisted. He had said too much already. His features did read, however, that he was sorry, and Bulma needed no words to understand this, or tell him that she understood.

As the scientist looked over her uncharacteristically apologetic husband, she now realized the extreme tiredness she saw in him earlier was perhaps something else, something more. She also realized that he had just referred to Capsule Corp. as "home." He was different, changed; she could tell. She smiled at him mischievously. "Yeah, sounds pretty dumb when you put it that way. I probably shoulda left you at the lookout! Is it too late to send ya back to King Yemma?" She winked.

The Saiyan prince narrowed his eyes at the blue-haired beauty, but she tenderly caressed the side of his face. "That's how love is, Vegeta. It makes you dumb. Really dumb, sometimes. Like let-a-genocidal-alien-put-a-baby-in-you-then-wash-his-smelly-gym-socks dumb. But not weak," she ran her hands through his flamed hair, "never weak."

"Easy for such a weak Earthling to say," Vegeta replied with a smirk, finally leaning off of the hover craft.

Bulma smiled, linking her arm around her husband's. "Trust me, loving you is anything but easy."

Together, the two returned to their home and son, grateful that the other was alive, and for their shared love.