I Thought you Cared…

Summary : Vegeta's main goal was becoming a super saiyan , the woman wasn't even a concern. Bulma was just trying to help, how was she to know how complicated it was to become?

Note: Reviews are love, people.

Chapter 1

A small dainty hand shot out from under a thick black comforter to swat at the top of a buzzing alarm clock. It paused there a second, making sure the noise was over before dragging the blanket down off her head, revealing a mound of messy aqua curls and tired blue eyes. Bulma yawned and stretched, making a move to change to a sitting position when thick arms encased her around the waist, pulling her down to the body belonging to them. A sigh escaped Bulma's lips as she turned her head to look at the strong black haired man keeping her still. "I have to go," was all she said.

The man moved his head slightly, snuggling his lips into her neck and moving his hand higher to her chest. "But I thought that maybe we could…" He trailed off as she pushed away from him.

"I don't have time," she replied, her voice sounding tired. Moving his arms from around her body, Bulma sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She smoothed out the large t-shirt she slept in before standing and looking back down at the man, who was now on his side with his hand holding up his head. "I have bots that need to be fixed, Yamcha."

A frown cracked his face and his brows furrowed. "Why is it all about him all the time? You work late making new toys for him, then you wake up early to fix the ones he broke the day before. If I didn't spend my nights here, I swear I'd never see you."

Bulma crossed her arms over her chest as she continued looking at him from over her shoulder. "I can't fight, this is the only way I can help," she reminded him, "if Vegeta wants to train so hard to help beat the androids, and Goku," she added as a second thought, "then why shouldn't I work just as hard?"

"But he's coming between us, babe," Yamcha stated, "I feel like I shouldn't even bother coming over here anymore, that I should just stay at my apartment."

Bulma turned her head around to look straight. "If that's going to be your attitude, then maybe you should." With that she walked off to the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She made sure to lock the door to keep him out before walking to the shower and turning the water on full blast. Stripping out of her shirt she stepped in, letting the water wash over her.

Her thoughts turned to the man in the next room and his scarred face entered her mind. There was once a time when that face made her insides quiver and her heart flutter, but that was a long time ago. She knew she'd been neglecting him lately, using fixing Vegeta's training bots as an excuse to blow him off. She just couldn't bring herself to care though.

Yamcha had watched her storm into the bathroom before angrily getting out of bed. He pulled his jeans on over the boxers he slept in and threw on an orange button-down shirt. If that's how she wanted to be, then he would leave. He pushed his feet into shoes and grabbed his jacket from a wooden chair where it was neatly folded. "I'm leaving, Bulma!" He yelled at the closed door, uncertain whether she would hear him or not. He felt it needed to be said, though.

Leaving the room he walked from the hallway to the kitchen. He wanted to leave by the back door so he wouldn't have to encounter either of Bulma's parents. Stepping onto the lawn he stopped as he saw Vegeta walking towards him, or more accurately, to the kitchen. He didn't care about the earth boy enough to walk towards him.

Yamcha plastered on his most fierce look as he walked towards the saiyan prince, saying only "she's all yours now," as he passed by.

Curiously Vegeta turned his head to watch as the former bandit took off into the sky. His face showed no emotion as he shook his head. "Fool," he muttered before continuing his journey to the kitchen. Sweat was pouring from his forehead and collecting on a towel he had draped around his shoulders. He was wearing nothing but dark blue pants in a light material. He looked around the kitchen and upon seeing no food prepared for his breakfast shouted to no where in particular. "Servant woman! Where is my breakfast?"

Bulma was just towel drying her hair when she heard the shout radiate through Capsule Corp. She gritted her teeth at being called a 'servant' and threw the towel to the ground. She slid a robe on and left the bathroom. "I'll be there in a second, Vegeta, exercise some patience." Her tone was evident with annoyance.

Vegeta grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest as he sat at the kitchen table awaiting his breakfast.

When Bulma finally emerged, her hair was damp and she was wearing only short blue denim shorts and a red tank top.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her. "That was more important than preparing my breakfast?"

"Chill out, Vegeta," Bulma sighed as she grabbed some food out of the refrigerator. "You'd think waiting for five extra minutes would make you starve. Besides, I've had a bad morning, I don't need you to make it worse."

Vegeta smirked. "Ah yes, I saw the weakling leave. Did he finally get tired of your mediocre talents? Or was it that ball of aqua fuzz you insist on keeping on your head that scared him off? Then again," he thought to himself, "it could be the selfishness and-"

Bulma turned on him quickly, a spatula in hand from preparing eggs. A quick smack on the head with a spatula to an un-expecting Vegeta shut him up.

With a growl he jumped to his feet and grabbed her wrist, delighting in the fear that appeared in her eyes. "If that was anyone else, they would be lucky to still be hanging on to their miserable existence by a thin thread right now," his voice was low and threatening.

Bulma regained her composure and narrowed her eyes at the prince. "What makes me special then?"

"I need someone to fix my bots and clean up after me," was his reply, which was followed by his signature smirk.

Bulma gritted her teeth and tried to grab her arm back. "You stupid jerk!" She shrieked.

He held her wrist for another second before letting go and reclaiming his seat at the table. "Eggs are burning."