A/N: Just an idea that kicked around in my head since I've been on a DBZ kick. Don't hate me. I tried. One-Shot for now. Reviews are my crack. Much love from this cheese ball writer.

How It Began

It all started with a breakup. That was what Vegeta could gather. She was sniffling like a child, because of a breakup.

He considered making a snide comment. The boy had clearly been an unfit choice to begin with. Weak in body, mind and spirit, as far as he could suss out. Truly, she should be grateful it was over.

Still, he kept these thoughts to himself. Since, after all, they'd broken up more than once over the years from his understanding. He watched idly as she continued her show before turning back and moving toward the training simulator.

She was none of his concern unless she was needed for repairs. That was all. Still, as the days wore on, her listless behaviour only increased.

She put on a good show. Did her make-up, coiffed her hair and dressed as garishly as ever. It didn't change the fact that instead improving her equipment, as she had done nearly every chance she got since he was abandoned on the retched planet, she would simply repair. Instead of trying to get a rise out him, she tossed off mended armour or newly synthesised battle suits.

His stay in Capsule Corp, however beneficial to his training, had grown utterly dull. All because of a breakup. The concept baffled him.

"Explain the whole thing to me, woman." She pulled her head from the depths of the gravity generator, face smudged and dusty, and considered him with dim curiosity. "The idea behind this partnership you had been in with the one called Yamcha. It seems to begin and end rather effortlessly. Why are you so," he paused as he tried to find an accurate substitute for "pathetic" that would get him answers and not incur her wrath, "Distressed?"

She blinked and sighed. "Cause it's over this time, Vegeta. For what it's worth, it's over." She violently wrenched a bolt tighter inside the device. "10 years of bitter fighting and good times donezo."

"Your mother has commented on the frequency of such events."

Bulma chuckled darkly, but refused to meet his eyes. "Of course she did. You know, I grew up kind of sheltered. My parents are so trusting they're practically begging to be taken advantage of. Then they went and passed on they're nativity to me."

"You're babbling."

"I'm voicing my thoughts, tough guy. Helps me work through them sometimes. You should try it once in a while."

He scoffed, but gently toed her thigh when she ignored him and went back to her repairs. "You haven't answered my question."

"He doesn't want to grow up." She huffed as she pulled away from her work, once more. "He wants to stay where he is. Honestly, I'm not even sure if he takes training seriously. There were days when I would watch him and I could see him wishing it was just Pu'ar and him in a gang, again."

Vegeta felt irritation crawl under his skin as the similarities fell into place. "You have a habit of surrounding yourself with bad decisions."

She laughed, but it was hollow sounding. "Yeah. I'm aware, but even though we're done now, that doesn't mean he and I won't be friends. In fact, I bet we'll be better for it!" She instantly lost the enthusiasm that had managed to eek into her voice. "When we start talking, again, I guess."

She burrowed back into the device, conversation clearly done. Vegeta was not satisfied, though. He had little less then three years with this woman. If it were to be bearable at all, she needed to be in top form.

"It was probably your shrieking voice."

She nearly dropped the box of cereal she'd been retrieving. "Excuse me?"

He finished a bite of omelette before repeating, "your voice. I imagine that's why Yamcha finally finished it. I, personally, only find it immensely grating. I cannot fathom how horrific it sounded to his ears after hearing it for over a decade."

She stared at him for a moment, hand frozen as it reached for a bowl. Huffing, cheeks reddening, she dropped her hand and gritted her teeth. He thought he'd made a chink in her devoid mood, but she simply sighed. Her ire dropped and she chose to forego a bowl. Box of sugary cereal in hand, she left the kitchen.

"It's not the most traditional way to a woman's heart."

He grunted in return to Mrs. Briefs' misguided consoling. With a renewed vigour, he consumed the omelette before him, and the six others the older woman prepared with an odd glee.

He considered that Bulma may have been right about her parents' nativity. From what he could gather, they were aware of all the events that had led to him staying at the Capsule Corp compound. They were aware, and yet treated him like a guest of honour.

A facility filled to the brim with geniuses and the only ones afraid of him were the grunt workers.

"I've patched up the armour you've been wearing. I have a replacement being developed to match the specs." She fingered the material, but in the end simply passed the chest piece off to him. "Should be done in a couple of days."

"Your hair."

She paused before the door to his borrowed chambers could close. "Is that all you got?"

He scowled and looked down at repair work she'd done. The armour was a newer model she'd handed off months ago without a word or thought but had left babbling about improvements to made as she'd left. That was pre-breakup.

"I could kill that mortal."

She turned slightly, considering him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Do I need a reason? I am a trained killing machine from a race of blood thirsty mercenaries. Finishing him off would be child's play."

"Well, I suppose that's appropriate." She smirked but dropped it as quickly as it had come. "Don't kill him. You heard what Goku said, all you meatheads are needed for what's to come."

With that she left him. He didn't see her again until she was dragging him out of the training simulator. She hauled him to the infirmary, noisily and sloppily.

"Stupid, pigheaded," she grunted as she manhandled him onto a cot. "You aren't light, you know. No matter the gravity setting. You sayians are so dense. Physically and mentally."

He could barely keep his eyes open, but he caught glimpses of her bandaging him up. She called help to get him into a proper bed and hook him up with IVs and to monitors. Then, like always, she stayed.

"I don't like it."

She was startled away from her notes by his sudden rasp. "The bed? Well, tough luck, bucko. You're stuck here until I say otherwise. We've finally managed to concoct a painkiller that'll knock you clean out, and I have the button."

She waved a little device in her hand, her bravado only a fraction of what it could have been. "The bed is sufficient. I'm referring to your moping. I can't stomach it."

"I have not been moping."

"You've been moping. Just apologise to the damn fool so we can regain some normalcy."

She stared at the device in her hands. "Well, I hate to break it you, but despite my many faults I was not the one broken up with. I ended things."

"You've wilfully plunged us into this level of hell. What is wrong with you, woman?"

She huffed and rested her chin in her hand. "Not that I would expect you to understand, but we were done for a while. Since before you came along, honestly. We'd been stagnant for years, looking for any sort of drama to liven things up." She shrugged and finally met his gaze. "I can't pretend that I don't want more, you know?"

Vegeta knew. He could smell it on her. She was primed for something that he was more than aware the earthling would never give her.

"I knew he was an inadequate mate."

She threw her hands the air. "Men! Life is just one giant pissing contest with you lot."

She stood so forceful, her chair squeaked a few inches back. "And I knew that armour was garbage. I told you a new breast plate would be ready in a couple of days. You just couldn't wait, could you?"

She took the opportunity of his weakened state and slapped him on the chest with as much force as she could muster. He grunted in surprise as a slight sting was left in her wake. She smirked down at him, triumphant.

"When I say I have new armour coming, I mean I have new armour coming." She laughed. "Now you have to wait even longer, because I got bored waiting on you to roll your princely ass into the lab to get it. I trashed it and have started a new model all together. Sucks to suck."

She marched out, clearly pleased with herself for getting the final word in. It wasn't so much that he didn't have a comeback for the spoiled woman, no he had several primed and waiting to be unleashed. No, something had been rattled loose in his battle hardened mind. A comment Kakarot had carelessly thrown her way.

"Oh, and congratulations, Bulma."

A throw away phrase that could have meant virtually anything given her considerable brain and accomplishments. But, the idiot earth male she'd been copulating with had gone and made that ridiculous joke. Vegeta had sensed it then, her quick consideration of the male and other viable candidates. He'd known she'd crunched the numbers, somehow already annoyingly tuned in to some of her more subtle habits.

She wanted an heir. She wanted to produce an heir and she had, in mere moments calculated that the idiot was not an option. If only for a moment, she'd snuck a glance his way.

He seethed. She'd ousted the incompetent earthling because he truly wasn't a viable mate. Armed with this knowledge he was left him considering, possibly too much, about her glance his way.

"You're brooding." She interrupted his musings as she entered with a heavily ladened food service cart. "You'll get wrinkles."

"Impossible, you vain simpleton. Sayians stay in their prime state a good twenty some years beyond you earthlings. I won't show signs of ageing until your well into your grey years."

She chewed her lip over this new information, but seemed unsurprised. "That makes sense. Goku seemed to have started slowing down once he hit his late teens."

"Kakarot and you are close."

She shrugged and manoeuvred pillows to cushion him as he sat up to eat. "I've known him since I was 16. Guess that would make people pretty close." She chuckled to herself, and he gritted his teeth at its pathetic tone. "I was pretty selfish with him when we were younger. I had to really humble myself once he managed to make friends of his own and start going his own way."

She sighed and watched him with a haunted smile on her lips. "Chi Chi is one lucky woman. Can't deny that."

With that, she left him to his meal. He considered her retreating figure, noticing, not for the first time that it was pleasing. This time, he realised, was not with detached assessment as he had done in days passed. Now it was in search of potential.

"Damned woman."

He was released from the infirmary the next day, not bothering to wake Bulma from her slumber as she kept guard in bedside chair. Upon reaching his quarters, he found a new set of battle suits and chest plate awaiting him. The fabric of the suit a fraction thinner, and armour marginally more flexible.

He changed mechanically, hearing her shrieking at his disregard for his own health already ringing in his ears. Making his way through the compound, he trekked the route to the simulation chamber by memory with closed eyes. Everything was as he had left it, it seemed, until his eyes found a bottle and note on the consul.

"Hey Moron, at least take some pain meds when you're done killing yourself. You asshole. Sincerely, the only person who seems to give a damn about you."

He scoffed and threw the note and bottle to the side. Choosing his training specs for the simulator, he considered the gift. Grunting in resignation, he knew he'd take them.

"It'll be preferable to her screeching. She's probably counted the doses."

He knew the truth. He would take them because it would please her. It would stroke the delicate ego he knew was comparable to his own at its heights. He would take them and stomach her fretting, all because of a damn breakup.