"Would your father hurry up and fix that blasted machine?" Vegeta demanded, arms folded across his chest, his lips pursed.
Bulma sighed and pushed back her scruffy, blue hair. "Vegeta, if you hadn't broken it you wouldn't have to be waiting right now."
"What's the point of a machine for training if it cannot withstand my strength?" Vegeta mumbled angrily.
"I wouldn't say it was your strength that broke the machine, but your abnormally large head," Bulma retorted, teeth gritted. "Why do you want to get so strong anyway?"
"You know why," Vegeta said, leaning against the clean, white walls. "I want to defeat Kakarot."
"But Goku thinks of you as a friend, or atleast as an accomplice," Bulma said, turning around to face Vegeta. "I don't see why you have to keep this war against him going."
"Because I'm the Saiyan Prince! I should be the strongest Saiyan, and yet Kakarot is always showing me up!" Vegeta said, voice unlevel with annoyance.
"That's not Goku's fault," Bulma sighed. "Goku is a nice guy, he really isn't that bad. He's just naturally strong."
"But-" Vegeta started, but Bulma cut him off.
"Vegeta, I don't care if you're the Saiyan Prince. Your royal blood should have no affect on your strength, really."
"How dare you," Vegeta said, eyes like slits when narrowed. "My heritage affects my strength greatly, just as your heritage affects your intelligence."
"Did.. did you just say I was smart?" Bulma asked, eyes wide with shock.
"I said that your father was intelligent, and possibly his own parents," Vegeta mumbled in response, avoiding eye contact.
Bulma hung her head. "R-Right."
There was a hint of tension in the air, and the two fell silent awkwardly, neither catching the others eye.
"Vegeta, I have fixed the machine," came the harsh, rattling voice of Bulma's father as he entered the room. "Next time, try not to break it."
"It's not my fault that it cannot deal with my power," Vegeta mumbled, pushing passed Bulma's father and leaving the room.
Bulma groaned. "That man can be so troublesome."
Though Vegeta threw countless punches and kickes in the harsh, low-gravity room, he still couldn't help but feel as though he were still weaker than Kakarot. The two should be equal, nay, Vegeta should be superior in all ways. But what was it that he lacked? What was it that made him weaker than Kakarot? There was nothing that made them physically different.
They were both Saiyans. No, Vegeta was the Prince of Saiyans. A factor that should have greatly affected his strength. But it didn't.
They had been raised in roughly the same way. Forgetting the fact that Vegeta was grown up as royalty, whilst Kakarot was no more than a peasant.
They both trained at the same difficulty. Actually, Vegeta trained harder. An example being the training he was doing now, this being a lower-gravity than what Goku had ever trained under.
Vegeta tensed as he dropped to his knees and began to do push ups, beads of sweat dripping off his face as he fought against gravity. He gritted his teeth.
But there was one thing. It was minor to Vegeta, but perhaps major to Kakarot. Love.
Vegeta felt sick to his stomach just thinking of it. Kakarot had a child, Gohan, and a wife, ChiChi, already. And what did Vegeta have to show? Nothing. Nothing but the pride for his race that he showed so often.
He sat up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel. What if that was the thing he needed? What if he needed to experience this 'love'? He closed his eyes and sighed. What would his father, King of the Saiyans, think, if he knew his son was considering settling down with a human. It would unpurify the Saiyan blood in his first-born child.
But the rest of the Saiyans were dead. What other chance did he have? He stood up, leaving the towel to sit around his shoulders loosely. But how would he meet a woman willing to give birth to a Saiyan child? No. The underlying question was: how would he find a woman willing to put up with his arrogance?
Vegeta couldn't deny it. He was arrogant. But who wouldn't be if they were royalty and regarded so highly on their planet? The door slid open and he stepped out, the sudden change in lighting forcing his eyes to adjust.
He furrowed his brow in contemplation. One woman came to mind. A single woman that could return all of the ignorant comments he gave out. Bulma. With his lips pursed, he exited the machine and leaned against its cold, metal wall. Bulma would never consider him though. She regarded herself highly, and thought of Vegeta as an ignorant pig.
And then he realised it: they would be perfect. They both were intelligent, both were somewhat-cocky and both considered themselves too good for the other. He looked towards the building, and just in the backyard Bulma stood, her shockingly-bright blue hair the one thing that stood out against the rest of the area.
Bulma seemed to sense his presence and turned around. She caught his gaze and he looked away, but she pressed forward, her hands on her hips. "What are you doing out so soon? You didn't break the machine again, did you?"
"No, I did not," Vegeta said, in his naturally-harsh and sadistic voice. "As a matter of fact I came out because.. I.." his voice seemed to falter.
An eyebrow cocked, Bulma spoke: "You what?"
"I was wondering.. if.." Vegeta started, but didn't know how to finish the sentence.
"Out with it, Vegeta. What were you wondering?" Bulma said, arms still on her hips.
"If you would.. show me.. around..?" Vegeta asked, without realising what exactly he had said.
Bulma loosened, her arms slid down to her sides and she seemed to get the hint. "I - uh.. s-sure."
And that night, after a day of the two not ripping each others hair out, Bulma admitted that she had actually enjoyed the day, having said first that she wasn't expected him to ask her something like that.
"I didn't think you would.. get the hint," Vegeta said.
"Well it was pretty obvious," Bulma said with a wry smile, "Considering you have been living here for quite a while now."
Vegeta shrugged sheepishly. And Bulma leaned forward.
He didn't know what to expect, or what to do. And Bulma seemed to sense this, so she shut her eyes and puckered her lips.
Vegeta was dazed at first, had not knowing what was about to happen. But the touch of her lips against his own was indescribably nice, and the scent of her apple shampoo seemed to intoxicated him. The emotion brought on by her gentle touch gave him an odd fiery feeling in the pit of his stomach: it wasn't pain he felt, but a weird, yet unexplainably nice, bubbly feeling.
When she pulled back she flashed him a grin, and Vegeta felt colour rush to his cheeks.
"Would you.. like to see my stamp collection upstairs?"