In Your Eyes

Chapter One – 'Steamy Confrontations

The curtains shifted slightly as a breeze caught the fabric. Bulma moved in bed, keeping her eyes closed, but smiling as she knew what opening them would bring. A brilliant sun-lit room with a summer breeze flowing in, circling, and flowing back out again. The occasional roll of thunder filled the air and carried through the window on the breeze, but Bulma knew it was merely the begrudged tenant whom was otherwise never seen. At least not by her.

She finally sat up, brought further awake by the sight she knew she'd see. Morning's like these gave her extra energy, and with that came extra brainpower. There would be a party on Kamesennin's island in the evening but before that, she decided to bring her latest project out to the front lawn. She could work on her tan, and the medium sized machine at the same time.

Bulma slid into a tube top and flimsy fabric shorts. Not a normal work outfit, but definitely one that would lessen tan lines. She smirked at herself in the mirror and placed a cigarette on her lips. She walked out patting her pockets, searching for a lighter and sneering when she realized she was without one.

"Now dear, you know your mother doesn't like that in the house." Bulma turned at smiled as her father spoke to her. His mustache turned up as he handed her his lighter.

"Thanks dad" she said.

She turned and went through the doorway, and into the sunlit back yard behind the house. Lowering her head, she flicked the lighter to the cigarette once, twice, and a third time before the ground began to shake. Bulma faltered and buckled her legs so that she wouldn't fall. The characteristic thunder came from the southern part of the building after the small quake.

She glared down to the ground at the smoking cigarette and stomped on it, cursing Vegeta and storming back into the house. "Dad!" she yelled.

Knowing he wasn't the type to come running, she stomped into the room she knew he would be in. Sure enough, he sat behind a computer, smoke billowing from the cigarette in his mouth.

"Dad... I swear, we need to make that gravity room more resistant! I'm so sick of having to deal with his crap! Thunder, holes in the lawn, earthquakes! All because his royal highness can't stop training for two seconds! Why should we even bother with him when all he does is use up an extra bedroom and eat?"

Mr. Briefs opened his mouth to speak when Bulma turned, stomping out once again with a scream. The black cat on his shoulder flinched, and he turned back to his work.

Meanwhile, Bulma pushed the anger to the pit of her stomach and focused on her job. Time passed, and she was able to push out all thoughts, except for those of her work. It was somewhat theraputic.

The burning sensation on her legs caused her to roll out from underneath the engine. Bulma sat up and wiped her forehead, reaching for the suntan lotion and squirting some into her hand. Without thinking, she rubbed the lotion into her legs and slid back underneath the engine, replacing her hands onto the blackened wrench.

Hours passed, she switched positions, working on section by section. Before she knew it, the sun had passed overhead, and her stomach grumbled. Bulma smiled and started towards the house as she wiped her hands, feeling something sticky, she looked down to realize her hands had blackened.

She sneered "Ick... better wash my hands before I eat."

She bumped into someone as she entered the house. "Oi, watch where you're going," she spat like a reflex. Instead of the normal 'Sorry Ms. Briefs!' and the sound of scuttering feet, she heard a deep scoff. This got her attention as she turned and faced none other than the one who shook the earth. "Idiot…" she said to his face. Inside, something was screaming at her to run. The Saiyan Prince still struck her as someone who would kill, even after a month of –somewhat- uneventful living with him.

He caught her arm before she could turn. "I do believe you're the idiot. Walking with your gaze on the ground is an accident waiting to happen," he said in a low tone that almost made her face fault, and released her arm. He smirked and folded his arms, gazing at her in amusement. Amusement? She glared at him in her most dangerous manner, and her head seemed to throb as her face flushed red. That simple, arrogant smirk snapped her temper like a twig.

"You bastard!" she yelled. "How dare you act so arrogant towards me when I'm the one who keeps that damned room of yours in good condition! You walk around this place like you're the king of it! Well, I'm sorry to inform you that this little 'nudball' is not your planet!" she screamed.

He still stood, letting his eyes trail over her as if she were some strange art exibit.

His lack of a response surprized her. Vegeta had never acted this way before, and it made her even more angry. "In fact!" she calmed and straightened her stance proudly. "If this planet belongs to anyone, it's Goku! So I suggest you go ask him for some dinner!"

Bulma stomped out once again, this time feeling good as she had gotten the last word.

"Damned idiot. He can't even fight back."

Vegeta walked out of the house, laughing genuinely for the first time in years. Of course, no one heard him.

Bulma stepped in front of the mirror and washed her hands, then worked to splashing her face with water. Black still filled the sink and she looked up, and screamed.

Her skin was painted black. The oil from the machine must have mixed in with the suntan lotion when she rubbed it on. She'd been so busy she hadn't even noticed.

"AAHHH!!" she yelled and clenched her fists. That was the reason he hadn't spoken back. Damn it!

She quickly jumped into the shower. Of course, she was already late for Kamesennin's party. Today was not turning out well at all

Bulma swallowed hard and let the hot water wash over her as she leaned against the wall. Her lungs took in the steam as she quietly meditated to herself. If anything, she'd seen a personality finally come out of the alien who lived on the property. She shook her head lightly, the water beads flinging from the dark blue hair. Yamcha would be there today. She would have to focus on being calm and kind to him.

Soon, any thoughts of Vegeta left her mind as she became nostalgic over her recent breakup. It did hurt to be the one to leave. It hurt to leave something that had always been there. It was for the best, but it still hurt...

It was twenty minutes before she finally got started on shampooing her hair.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The party wasn't exactly everything Bulma had hoped for. Instead of her usual ministrations as the life of the party, she found herself lying out on the beach chair reading, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth in a lax fashion.

The original idea that Yamcha would give her grief was crushed. He already had a beautiful, frosty redhead following him around. He'd sheepishly blushed as Kamesennin fawned over his new love, and given Bulma a short sideways glance. A small 'hey' was forced as they passed each other in an empty room.

Bulma knew that it wasn't right. They'd spent so much time alone when they were younger. She had thought that they would at least still talk, but apparently that wasn't the case. At least not now. His new girl was keeping a good grip on him.

Goku had noticed her forlorn look and sat down to ask her if she was ok.

"I'm fine, just a little tired," she told him. Goku nodded, and looked at her a bit longer before standing

"I'm sure he'll come around after awhile. He's just gotta get used to his new life," Goku added, and smiled before leaving again.

She put her cigarette out in the sand next to her chair and reached for another one unconsciously. A second laterh, however, she jerked her hand back. No more chain smoking. It was way too bad for the body, and if it was anything she wanted to preserve, it was her mind and body.

Bulma looked up just in time to catch a ball that had been flying straight at her. She gritted her teeth as her eyes got huge. Goku came running over and she handed him the ball, still too surprized to let out more than a peep. As a matter of principle, she was quite proud of the fact that she had yet to scream.

"Sorry about that Bulma! We're playing softball, wanna play?" Goku asked.

Before the reflexive 'no thanks' could reach her lips, she caught sight of Yamcha giggling with his new girlfriend in the distance. He had his arms around her, practicing a sidearm throw. Not once in all of her knowing him had he taught her a baseball move. She folded her arms, forgot about her near-death experience and stood.

"Sure Goku! I'd love to".

"Alright! We've got ...uhm...six now!" he said, walking after her to the makeshift field.

Bulma pulled her tube top down, exposing a bit more of her chest, and took her place on the field. Her eyes were filled with nothing but wicked malice as she picked up a bat and swung it in a lazy fashion.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The punches and kicks that were his everyday job kept coming. They had often asked how he could never tire of training every day. In fact, they had actually suggested he do something 'more constructive'. Vegeta shook his head as he did his thousandth one-fingered pushup. These beings had no idea what they were in for. Sure, they had Kakkarott, but he was to stupid to even realize his own prosperity. Danger was on the way, and all they did was laugh, lay around, and have those begotten parties.

They were not royalty. He had taken so long to adapt to the fact that these people were free. They had their own small hierarchies spread throughout the planet. He'd found one of the larger corporations, but people who would normally be thought of as peasants joined in the same pointless celebrations as corporate leaders like that blue haired thing he lived with.

He sneered and snorted to himself. Over the times he began to understand, but he refused to let himself sink into such a clueless nature. They called it being happy, but he only felt so good once he'd accomplished something. A growl escaped his throat as a familiar voice echoed in his mind.

"You've done nothing. Worthless training… you'll never reach that level."

He ground his teeth and pushed harder. Muscles strained, but he promised himself a trip to his steam room... only after he actually accomplished something.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

She lay her head back on the hard wood, letting the wonderful moisture sink into her skin. Her arm was throbbing, and her hair provided less of a pillow than it usually did. The moisture had flattened it beneath her.

Bulma lay on one of the hard wooden benches in the steam room. It had originally been built at Vegeta's request, but not only had she never seen him use it, but he didn't own anything on the premises. For the most part, she knew he wouldn't be bothering her. She wore only a small white towel around her body as she lay; even in an empty room, she wasn't one for naked roaming.

The baseball game had done her in. She had taken over pitching after a few lessons from Kamesennin, and done her best to show off the skills she had. Bulma knew she had done well when Yamcha's new girlfriend practically dragged him away from the game, but felt the pain in her arm as an expense. She had returned straight home, taken an aspirin, and headed for the steam room. Promising herself that she would only stay in for a half-hour or so.

Now, she sat and enjoyed the feeling of the hot steam seeping into her muscles. It was a wonder she didn't do this more often. This might even help her quit smoking. It certainly had a nice, calming effect...

Bulma awoke when the door slammed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

He smelled her the second the steam had wafted out the room as the door opened.

Vegeta had sneered, and slammed the door behind him. Through the steam he saw her laying on her back, starting as the door slapped against the moist wooded frame. His eyes took over for him, trailing down the bare legs, and the partially exposed chest. Finally his dark gaze met hers. He folded his arms and waited.

"Uhm. I'll be out in a second," she practically squeaked.

This was Bulma? He squinted, sure it was her. But that was not her voice. Not the screaming, yelling angry woman he hadd always faced off with.

Vegeta continued to observe her, wondering if she had some sort of illness. Her scent was as clean as ever, but her demeanor was off. Interesting...

- - - - - - - - - - - -

She jumped, and her adrenaline caused her to shake. God, she'd fallen alseep!

Consciously pulling her towel tighter, Bulma stood and walked toward the exit. She knew it was him, but only as the stream wafted around him with the breath of fresh air he'd caused with the door did she realize something else. He wore nothing, and was completely unaware that it meant anything.

She shifted, her eyes catching a glimpse of the dark area just below his muscled abdomen and stammered. "Uhm… I'll be out in a second.."

She couldn't find other words, since her focus was doing her best not to stare, while trying to leave. As she neared him, she gained back some of her mindset.

"You could wear something in here you know. This isn't exactly a deserted place."

She walked into his arm, which braced him against the wall, and stopped her across her collarbone. She glared at him, still clutching her towel. "Move it, naked boy! I'm leaving!"

He smirked to her. "This is my steam room, you idiot. I alwayscome in here unclothed," his voice was uncharacteristically soft. Almost dangerous. Then again, when wasn't he dangerous?

She stepped back, keeping her eyes on him. This was twice in one day he'd actually used full sentences with her, and his low tone made her wonder if he was planning a kill.

"Although if it's such a problem, I'll take that towel."

Brows drawing low over her eyes, she stepped back further and he laughed softly. Bulma felt her face get hot as she bared her teeth and stiffened.

"Just get out of my way. I'll leave you to your steam room Vegeta. Next time, knock!!" she yelled right to his face, stepping around his form and heading for the door. She reached it and pulled, but it refused to open.

Bulma felt herself swallow and begin to panic as she pulled again.

Her body turned roughly, completely out of her own control, and faced him. This time it was his turn to get up into her face.

"Woman, I was told this would be mine. Your stupid father told me it was the least he could do. Now, the least you can do is stay the hell out of my way!"

Bulma stood frozen. Vegeta was inches from her, his voice only slightly louder as he spoke. She was filled with the feeling heat his skin seemed to give off, mixed with feelings of how easily he could snap her neck right then. One easy twitch of his wrist was all he would need. Hell, he could probably do it with his mind.

She clenched her jaw and didn't allow herself to show any more fear. He drank it up like potent alcohol, and she wasn't about to give him another shot.

Using a reserve of courage she didn't know she had, Bulma slapped him, turned, and yanked the door open.

She never ran so fast in her entire life than she did from the steam room that day, clad only in a small white towel.