Disclaimer: DBZ and its characters are not mine; I just like to play with them when I'm bored. I should also state that while I watched the show religiously when I was younger, it's been almost nine years since I last saw an episode, so my memory is a little rusty. That said, I thought it was high time I expressed my love for Bulma/Vegeta, so here is my first (and most likely only) Dragon Ball Z fanfic. Enjoy!

Hot and Cold

"WOMAN!"

Bulma slammed her magazine down on the table. That was it! She was so sick of that arrogant jerk yelling at her like she was his personal slave. He couldn't even call her by her proper name. No, it was always 'woman'.

"Chauvinistic pig," Bulma muttered, clenching her jaw.

She was sure he did it on purpose. He managed to remember everyone else's names, but for her it was simply 'woman', as if he took obscene pleasure in proving to her just how little she was worth his notice. Of course, she was never too below his notice when he needed the Gravity Chamber fixed, or when he wanted more food, or when he had a shower and had forgotten to bring his 'drying cloth' with him again. Well, if she'd known the Saiyan prince was going to treat her this way, she would never have invited him to stay at her home, no matter how cute he looked sometimes. He was the worst house guest ever: always demanding her to do things, and eating all the food, and—

The door slammed open and said horrible house guest stood on the threshold, clad only in a towel and dripping water everywhere.

"You!" he growled, advancing towards her, onyx eyes flashing.

Bulma stood up, alarmed at the enraged expression on the Saiyan's face, as well as his lack of clothing. Confronted with that golden, undeniably masculine body, she suddenly found it a lot more difficult to remember that she hated this man. All that training in the Gravity Chamber had certainly paid off . . .

Get a grip, Bulma, she scolded herself. We are talking about Mr Pain in the Arse here! Mr Pain in the Arse, who, I might remind you, is currently staring at you like he's about to blast you to pieces.

Suddenly annoyed again, Bulma placed her hands on her hips, refusing to be cowed by his glare. "What do you want now, Vegeta? Can't you see I'm—"

"What have you done to the shower, woman?" he demanded, cutting short her tirade.

Bulma blinked in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"The water has gone cold!"

Her mouth twitched as she struggled to contain her laughter. She realised what must have happened, and cast a quick glance over his body, noticing that, yes, there were faint traces of shampoo in his hair and a few soapy droplets trailing down his chest. Vegeta, however, was not amused, and continued to glare at her, jaw clenched, and his hands balled into tight fists.

"Well?" he snarled. "What did you do?"

Bulma couldn't help it: she laughed. "Oh, Vegeta, you really have no clue sometimes."

The growl that reverberated in his throat suggested he was less than pleased by her response, but Bulma simply grinned. She always delighted in riling him up for his ignorance about the way things on Earth worked.

"I didn't do anything," she said, still chuckling. "There's just no hot water left in the tank."

He gritted his teeth. "What do you mean there's no hot water? This pathetic planet of yours is filled with water!"

Bulma repressed a sigh. Okay, his ignorance was funny until she had to explain everything to him. Damn alien princes.

"The water is stored in a tank, which is then heated so you can have hot showers," she explained with painstaking patience. "Once you use up all the hot water, it refills itself with cold water, which then has to be heated again." A grin tugged at her lips. "I hate to break it to you, honey, but you've clearly used up all the hot water."

Vegeta made another throaty growl, though she wasn't sure if that was because he really was upset he couldn't blame her for the shower not working or because she had called him 'honey'.

"Then fix it!" he ordered, scowling at her in that 'Do It Now Or Else I'll Blast You' way.

Bulma's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, Mr Demanding, but I am not your servant! Fix it yourself if you want hot water so bad."

Vegeta's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe she was talking to him this way. Rather than rant some more, however, he simply folded his arms and stared at her with an unnervingly calm expression.

"You are going to fix that shower for me, woman."

"Oh, really? Well, I've got news for you, bud," she said, poking him in the chest, "I can't fix that shower even if I wanted to, so you'll just have to wait."

"What is it with you and these ridiculous names?" he grumbled.

A laugh bubbled out of her throat. "What, you don't like it?"

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned towards her, black irises grounding into her blue. "I think you enjoy irritating me."

Bulma felt her breath catch. He was very close now, and the intense look in his eyes, combined with the small smirk pulling at his mouth, made her feel distinctly unruffled. Not to mention the fact he was still only wearing a towel. It was impossible to ignore that body, and the closer he came, the more she could feel his proximity wrapping around her like a thick cloak of energy: hot, virile and filled with passion.

"A-ah, I don't know what you mean," she stammered, shaken out of her composure. Yamcha had certainly never made her feel like this.

His smirk became more defined, and he reached out and took her face in his hand, holding her chin up so that he could meet her gaze better. Her cheeks warmed at his touch, blossoming with pink like a bottle of spilt dye.

"Woman," he murmured, except it sounded more like a purr to her ears, "do you take me for a fool?"

Bulma's heart quickened in her chest, and she made an unintelligible noise that might have been a negation or an affirmation of his comment. Vegeta considered her for a moment, his expression almost amused, as if he had seen something pleasing on her face, and then he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. She gave a stunned little gasp at the contact, but his hand curled around her neck, stopping her from pulling away, and Bulma realised in that moment that she really didn't want to. In fact, she realised that kissing the arrogant Saiyan prince was something she had wanted to do for a long time.

Pressing herself closer to his still damp body, she wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, revelling in his taste, though never quite feeling like she was getting enough. She wanted more: more than just a taste, more than a kiss, or to run her hands along the hard contours of his chest. She wanted him, and she could tell by the way he responded so aggressively, trying to outmatch her passion, that he wanted her.

They broke apart, each trying to catch their breath. Bulma could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, alive with energy and desire. She licked her lips, staring at the dark-haired man before her with lust-filled eyes. A smirk slowly formed on his mouth, and he stepped back, looking rather pleased with himself.

"So," he said smugly, "are you going to fix the shower now?"

Bulma stared at him for a moment and then—

SLAP!

"Jerk!" she screamed.

Vegeta rubbed his reddened cheek, scowling as he watched her stalk out of the room and slam the door shut behind her.

"Earthling women," he muttered, torn between frustration and wonder. "Such an enigma."

A/N: So, what'd you think? Yay? Nay?

Oh, and if anyone has any good Vegeta/Bulma fanfics to recommend, please do! You will make me very happy! I'm only new to the DBZ fandom world and am still feeling rather lost. :(