One-shot story. Hope you enjoy it.

Bulma's hand swept over the river's edge, testing its temperature before she dropped both feet in. The current tickling her toes felt refreshing despite the slight chill in the air. The day had been much warmer earlier, so she left her jacket in her private airplane. She smiled knowing that her husband – the true neurotic worrier in their family - would have groused. Grunted, too. She had more than a few bad headaches recently, caused by overwork, prompting Vegeta's concern. He argued that she was needlessly neglecting her well-being and should reconsider her priorities. As well, he almost rejected a training jaunt with her childhood friend and fellow Saiyan, Son Goku, to a distant location. Bulma told Vegeta that, while admirable, following his rigorous standard of "self-care" would likely kill her faster.

Oh, how things had changed.

Time had mellowed the prince of all Saiyans – or, rather, being on Earth had. Unless he was happily occupied with a fight, firing blistering taunts and ki blasts at opponents, the prince kept a low profile. After all these years, his reserve remained awkward to newcomers, and he didn't care. He certainly didn't give a damn before falling for Bulma. His passionate love burned for everything she represented. He evaluated others' importance based on how they treated her. He saw through bullshit and obsequiousness from miles away, having spent his youth around crooks, liars, and worse.

Toadying to gain power was the height of dishonorable. Vegeta may have served a tyrant once but he did not kiss ass, which got him more beatings and abuse than he cared to recall. Those days were long gone, thankfully, but left him with enduring suspicion toward others. Yet, for those who paid closer attention and tried to understand him, he would give thoughtfully and honestly. Students adored him, though his training put them through the paces unlike any other, just beneath a Kai's tutelage. Pupils showing great tenacity and learning fastest were sent other places to study more techniques, and then return later. Laudably, he allowed the rest to save face, helping them discover that they could serve higher purposes elsewhere. His legendary bluntness was hellfire, but he rarely had students who weren't self-aware. They trusted him because he never, ever played favorites.

For years he arose early to begin his daily routine, carefully trying not to awaken Bulma. He often liked watching her sleep; he also preferred silence to plot his back-breaking regimen, and no matter how tired, Bulma liked to talk and talk and…talk. Sometimes she pouted at his annoyance, but he usually offered a reassuring kiss, reminding his doe-eyed pushy princess of her importance to him. Only then would she relent. Pleased, he would smirk and leave - or return to bed to have sex until she was too tired to move.

He won, every single time.

"You're thinking about Vegeta, aren't you?"

Blushing, Bulma pivoted from Krillin's curious, attentive gaze. "What makes you say that?" She tried being modest, but she had known him since her teen years. Her friend wasn't having any of it.

Krillin was a kind soul with an easygoing manner, but age and hardships had made him a shrewd observer of nuanced emotion. "Oh, give me a break," he said, laughing. "I'm happy for you. You've been through a lot together. Vegeta is the luckiest guy in the world, I say."

"You're quite generous, Krillin. Considering that you held a sword to his throat after Yajirobe chopped off his tail, and you both lived, I'd say your luck is impressive too. He's finally stopped wanting to strangle you after almost twenty years."

"Well, I figured that out after he invited me to teach occasionally." He paused, handing her a fishing pole. "I have to admit, it's just as thrilling to watch Vegeta in action without Goku around."

"It always has been to me, Krillin," Bulma said, facing him. "Always."

"I know, honey, and he knows. Every time he looks at you, I see appreciation."

Bulma cocked her head. "Are we discussing the same person? The man practically sprouts poison needles when the kids and I tackle him affectionately around people."

Snickering, Krillin flung his fishing line to the river's center, creating multicolored ripples. "Uh, have you forgotten how your crabby husband tried to mutilate a god over you, Bulma? I could count other death-defying events, some in which I participated to save our butts. If that's not love, I don't know what is." He ducked fast, knowing that Bulma was close to slapping his bald head.

"I know that, silly, and that's different," she continued. "All I'm saying is Vegeta will never be outwardly effusive, and I'm comfortable with that. Besides, my skin would crawl if he stared with thirsty eyes at me in public. That would be creepy. I'm a safe place for him. He lets me know every day, privately, even before extended trips. He can be very sweet, without saying a word."

"Sweet, huh?" Krillin stood to extend his fishing line, reflecting on that description. Loyal, dedicated, prideful, protective – but sweet? Never in a million years, the former monk thought. "The way you two argue, Bulma? Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Recall that I said Vegeta's visible appreciation is recognizable to me. I catch my wife doing it too. She's not exactly the touchy-feely type outside either, in case you've forgotten. Like you first did years ago, I see through his penumbra in ways others never will, not even Goku. It's taken Vegeta years to feel comfortable with it."

"I suppose you're right, Krillin. He and Goku understand each other differently, that's for sure. They're so much alike in ways - and I swear you will die in a fire if Vegeta ever hears that. However, Goku's depth was nurtured with love. My husband's wasn't. His is the byproduct from pain…so much pain."

Bulma tried to wipe falling tears before Krillin noticed. He almost glanced backward but chose not to. They both had flashbacks of Vegeta's agony raining down on everyone who didn't ask for it. Back then, when they were on opposite sides of battle, Krillin wondered if should have killed him when he first had the chance, until Goku implored him not to. The prince was frighteningly mean and cunning. Yet, much later, Krillin couldn't help being drawn to him, as Vegeta's opinion of himself and outlook on life changed.

He wanted to be his friend.

"You know, Bulma, we've known each other too long to be shy about crying."

Bulma sniffled and said, "I know, Krillin, but I still have my pride." The laughed. She sounded just like Vegeta. "You know, as absurd as this sounds, I wonder if he still feels lonely sometimes."

"Maybe, but he has a friend or two to help with that anytime," Krillin replied as he raised his voice. "He can be as prickly as he wants. Isn't that right, Vegeta?"

"Baldy, I didn't suppress my power coming here because I expected you would be smart enough to leave," Vegeta said as he trekked through the thicket behind them. Stone-faced, he observed Bulma's puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. "Well, shall we stare at each other like idiots, or can you explain why my wife's face resembles a sugar beet?"

Vexed, Bulma dropped her fishing pole and stood. "Vegeta! I do not look like a root vegetable!"

"Fine." He was just getting started. "How about a clown's nose?"

"Oh yeah?" Bulma hands dropped to her hips. "At least I don't look like a stuffed sausage in those tight jeans, buddy!"

"Come again?" Vegeta retrieved her pole, twirling it casually. "You've never had a problem with my dashing figure before, woman. We have brats who look like you to prove it."

Krillin laughed heartily until their glares homed in on him. "Um, well, I guess I'll be going," he said nervously. "Enjoy the evening. It should be a nice one." He winked and flew off.

"A sentimental fool that one is," Vegeta grunted. "You two spent the entire day lounging without catching dinner. At least you could've been productive, although I am far more understanding than his money-grubbing wife will be."

"Ah, I see you're in a pleasant mood." Bulma sidled up to him, puckering her lips. "I am starving in other ways." She stroked his pants gently. "I can see you are too. Now then, how about a kiss, sausage boy?"

"No." Vegeta slipped his shoes off and approached the riverbank. "Not on your life. I don't appreciate you being upset about problems I do not have. Now I am upset. What else did you say? That I'm sick of your spoiled cat sleeping on our bed at night?"

Bulma giggled as she took his hand. "I suppose I would have had you not arrived. Look, I'm sorry. I guess I should have discussed my concerns with you first."

"Concerns, Bulma? I am surrounded by people, whether I like it or not. What do you think I'm looking for at this point in my life? We have two children; your tribe of friends and sister; my brother and sister-in-law; your workers; my pain-loving students; and that damned cat. Don't get me started on the creatures from other planets stopping regularly to eat our food. It's a fucking carnival, every single fucking day."

Bulma, who was slightly annoyed, exhaled. "Vegeta, it's no sin to wonder if you feel connected with anyone besides me and our kids. You spent much of your life unable to trust anyone fully. Your relationship with Goku is different from what we're discussing here, too."

He placed a finger underneath his chin. "Actually, it's not. It's precisely because I can trust Kakarot now, and he trusts me, that I am not lonely. When, as a young boy battling Cell, Gohan took a direct hit that should have killed him to save me, I wasn't alone. When I felt Krillin, of all people, yelling from miles away as I sacrificed my life to stop Majin Buu, I wasn't alone. While I often need solitude, I am never lonely, because these memories strengthen me as much as your love. I… know... who my friends are. I hope my answer is enough, because it's the first and last time I'm saying it. Understand?"

"It's enough." Trying not to tear up again, Bulma touched his back. "I told Krillin you could be really sweet sometimes."

Vegeta gave her the side-eye, with no smile in sight. "Did he believe you?"

"Not really." Bulma shook her head, recognizing his approval of her answer. "Oh, come on, don't be sour. It's not like I said you skip happily through the forest feeding baby birds and rabbits."

They both looked up as Krillin's mounted pole bobbed energetically as the river's current sped up. Looking smug, Bulma turned toward Vegeta, who ignored her silent gloating over the captured animal. With the skill of a well-practiced hunter, and one of the strongest men on Earth, he pulled the massive freshwater whale overhead, which crashed into six trees two miles away. When he flew to retrieve it, the flipping, saw-toothed leviathan appeared angry rather than hurt. At first he wondered whether Krillin used sorcery to snag an animal such as this on a tiny fishing line. Just how deep was this river? He frowned and threw the creature back in. Time to get the hell out of there.

"What's wrong?!" Bulma shouted. "That's our dinner for a month! I thought you said…"

"I'm feeling merciful," Vegeta replied. Years ago, his smart-mouthed wife would've jumped on him, frightened and screaming bloody murder. "I doubt that mutant would last a week, once I carved it. Now stop arguing and hold on to me. It's colder. Our son will drive us crazy if you get sick after being out here."

"How would you know?" Bulma protested playfully. "Your body heat melts ice fields on dead planets."

"I know because the temperature appears on my watch," Vegeta growled. "And, you're banned from coming here alone from now on."

Bulma winked mischievously. "You're acting strangely, darling. Are you feeling well? Was the fish diseased?"

Frustrated, Vegeta's face turned red. "Damn it, Bulma!" The more she laughed, the darker he became.

She slapped her knees, waving her finger at him. "Who looks like the sugar beet now, tough guy?"

After handing over her shoes, Vegeta wrapped her in a shawl, tucked her beneath his shoulder, and flew skyward."When will you ever learn, vulgar woman? It's like talking to a brick wall with you," he said, with a muffled chuckle. Bulma cursed worse than any soldier he'd ever known, besides himself. He bounced midair to quiet her. "I remember the first time I did this. Do you?"

"What?" Bulma exclaimed in dismay. "You want to walk down memory lane now? Have you lost your mind?!" She grabbed his pant leg. "How do you expect me to remember when you first scared the hell of me flying like this - like a maniac?!"

Vegeta pulled her into his arms for a kiss as they approached a secluded limestone-rock trail surrounded by beautiful red cedar trees. More wary than her normally guarded husband, Bulma scanned their surroundings. Nearby hot springs made the air significantly warmer.

Amused, Vegeta allowed her to regain her bearings. "Do you remember, Bulma?"

Huffing, she crossed her arms. "No."

Vegeta looked into her eyes. "I swear, you usually remember everything else to annoy me. Fine, then. When I first lived with you and your parents, you almost bit my head off for a small offense. All I did was request faster fighting bots to train with in the gravity chamber."

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Bulma poked at his chest. "Small offense? The hell it was, Vegeta. You stormed like a raging bull into my lab bellowing that I worked too slow, disturbing me and my father, who actually liked you more than I did. I wanted to smack the crap out you - and, my god, you did everything in your power to provoke me. I couldn't believe your absolute gall. Actually, I could, but…"

Vegeta interrupted and said, "Your father left you to fend for yourself - one of many times you were too angry to fear my response. If you recall, I also had enough of your disrespect and colorful insults."

"And, you picked me up like I was a sack of potatoes." Bulma said, warming to the memory. "Then, you stuck me under your stinky armpit."

Vegeta moved closer. "What did I do after that?"

"You flew out here," Bulma replied, looking around again. "And, you dropped me in the dirt, snatched my watch and left a compass to find my way home, you brute. I could've been eaten by animals until you showed up again."

Vegeta waved his hand. "You were in no danger, woman. I scared them all away."

"That I believe," Bulma said. "Now, just what are you up to?"

"You fell as you ran to yell at me," he continued. "When I removed my shirt to set your sprained arm, I hadn't thought about my scars and tattoos, not since the explosion that put me in your infirmary –and how we fought later about that. On this day, though, the way you looked at them again, and at me, was different. You touched them differently."

Bulma clasped his hand again. "I didn't pity you."

Vegeta looked down. "No, you didn't. You... tried… to understand why that was important to me."

"Your pride." Bulma closed her eyes and exhaled. "You flinched when I felt them. You did that a lot, even after we first made love. Sometimes you still do, when you're sleeping."

Vegeta would never shed that reaction completely, they both knew, after Frieza and the other hateful sadists working for the tyrant nearly drove him to total insanity. Before his wife, sex was raw and painful and lacked any affection, with scant consideration for the other person's needs - like most of his life. That he understood. Being touched affectionately was inconsistent with everything his body and mind had experienced.

"No one had ever offered me friendship or concern so openly like you did," he said. "It was absurd."

"I suppose it was," Bulma replied soberly. "Now look at us."

Noticing shades of late sunset descend over the forest, Vegeta stepped back to remove his shirt. Bulma's soft fingers traveled over the uneven welts and blemishes and indentations. Each had a story, and this time the prince did not flinch.

The lovers fell into each other's arms. Only they could hear their tears.

END: Thank you for reading!