Chapter 1: In Debt

At first, her rejection had eaten at Vegeta constantly. Her words echoed in his head, He cares for me. Caring was not something the warrior did often. As he was constantly pushing himself to the maximum, he showed little concern for his own body. Caring for another was an absolute disadvantage to the Saiyan and in addition, that was not part of their agreement. He now could openly admit to himself that he felt a significant amount attraction towards his host, but not significant enough to allow for the weakness she seemed to desire.

After the weeks passed, his anger subsided to a residual roar that only returned when he felt the weakling's ki around the woman. Surprisingly, the human male was barely present at the complex. Vegeta assumed that the woman had wisely decided to not expose her pathetic mate to her house guest. He would still smell the man's scent on her, but was able to retain his shroud of indifference around the woman.

Vegeta's interactions with her were curtailed to orders which she took with hostility but still performed as he asked. In unplanned exchanges, she would verbally bait him with a familiarity that the man found discomforting. The woman was constantly contesting his attempts to seclude her into a distinct servant function in his life. Apparently, the woman enjoyed mentally brawling with him. Over the course of the following month, he allowed her to fill the role of combatant as well as servant. The uneasiness he had once seen from the woman had disappeared, and he found himself beginning to enjoy their occasional battles.

As the thoughts drifted through his mind, he was reminded of his quest towards a complete overhaul of his room in order to increase its capabilities. Three hundred times Earth's pathetic gravity was becoming ineffective. Regardless of his motives, it would be refreshing to get tangled in a decent shouting match. It was one of the days the human dubbed the end of the week, and he felt confident that the woman would be at the house. Exiting the gravity simulator, Vegeta scanned the area for her distinct energy signal. He found her in the shade of a nearby tree laid out underneath a dismantled bicycle covered in smears of thick grease. He smirked at the woman's ridiculous hobby.

A small box was sitting on the ground near one of her bouncing legs, and it was blaring an obnoxious tune. With a delicately aimed blast, the small object poofed out of existence. The woman removed her head from under the bicycle and looked at the burnt spot on the ground in confusion. He watched as recognition flashed across her eyes. Then her thin eyebrows came together in anger as she scanned her surroundings. As soon as she located the content Saiyan, she shouted, "What's the big idea, you jerk!" Seeing that he was not going to respond, she turned her nose up at the man and dived back underneath her vehicle. He could practically hear her thinking, I'll just ignore him.

Seeing another object awaiting destruction, the mischievous Saiyan shot a small beam at the towel bundled near her hips. As it bursted into flames, the woman leaped up from her prone position and let out a yelp of fright. She repeatedly brought her foot down on the flaming rag until it was merely cinders, and then turned her enraged eyes to the culprit of the seemingly spontaneous combustion. She stomped towards the man, put her hand on her hips and said, "Alright, you have my attention." Irritation danced in her eyes but anticipation also swirled in their cerulean depths.

Nodding his head in the direction of her project he gruffly said, "You're wasting my time on that ridiculous contraption." He could see that she was about to reject his classification of her favorite toy and his ownership of free time, so he continued speaking over her attempt. "You should be fixing the room."

Her face fell and she let out a huff of air. Then outraged shock overcame her features as she questioned, "What! It's broken…again?" The question ended in a pathetic squeak. When Bulma received no agreement or denial from the stoic man, she begrudgingly stalked towards his precious room.

He followed her silently as she trudged towards his room. As soon as she entered the room, she pinched two fingers around her nostrils. In a nasally voice she said, "Ew, It stinks in here Vegeta!" She waved one of her hands through the air for added effect.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and turning his head to the side, he said, "You've just forgotten what a man smells like." He looked at her out of the side of his eyes and curling his lip in mock disgust, he continued, "It's better than how you smell." He then demonstratively scanned her appearance.

At his comment, she looked down at her attire. Her small tank top which was once white, was now covered in thick smears of engine grease as were her shorts. The grease persisted past her clothes to infect her arms, legs and putting a hand on the bandana covering her hair, she confirmed its presence there as well. Her face then returned to look at Vegeta and attained a goofy smile. "Yeah," she agreed, "I guess it is an acquired smell."

Vegeta stared at the woman sternly, but could feel distant approval settling onto his face. The smell was definitely an acquired one, one that he had come to associate directly with his alluring host. He watched her as she turned to punch a few keys into his control panel to run diagnostics on the instrument. He anticipated an amusing outburst once the computer told her that simulator was completely operational.

"Initiate gravity simulation," he heard the familiar noise of the simulator engaging. The grease covered woman was slamming her fist on the large red button which was ignoring her command. The weak woman turned to him with panic clearly written across her features. The lights of the room turned a hellish red and the cold computerized voice continued, "Three hundred times planet's normal gravity." The smell of her absolute fear slammed into him as the severity of the situation fully overtook the woman. Fool, he thought to himself but whether it was in regards to the helpless woman or himself, he was not sure.

He managed to dash to her just a moment before the oppressive weight fell on him. He flared his energy aura around them in hopes of dulling the effects. He look down at the woman, she was clinging to his body, shaking in fright and emitting small noises of dread. She looked up at him, her face betraying the absolute trust that she held towards him.

He bent down to one knee, the other leg at a right angle and spooned the small woman against his body. She brought her head against his chest and dragged her knees in between his legs as her body seemed to melt into his. He stretched out an arm towards the panel at the base of the controls. With thoughtless determination, he released a powerful beam through the compartment containing the motherboard.

The chamber choked and shook as it attempted to maintain its purpose with its mangled components. The woman tried to dig her head further into his chest as whirling noises consumed the quaking room. Expecting an explosion, Vegeta wrapped his arms around the woman; one hand covering her head and the other sprawled across her back.

As the contraption stilled and became silent, the woman kept her face buried in his chest. He allowed his hands to relax to his sides and his blue aura to diminish. Something akin to fear was receding from his thoughts. He barely ever felt that emotion, but to feel it for another being completely surprised the man.

He kneeled in place for a moment attempting to sort through his thoughts and tried to not enjoy the feeling of her pressed against him. He heard her sniffling quietly and the wet feeling of tears brushed against his chest. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pried her body from his, both physically and mentally. With large watery eyes, she was looking at him with complete admiration. He had never had a person look at him as she did and his pride swelled at creating such a response.

She licked her lips quickly and then softly said, "Oh Vegeta." She took a deep breath and then smiled at him radiantly and emotionally squeaked out, "Thank you so much." She then darted her arms around his neck and leaped onto his body. She sat herself comfortably on his raised thigh and pulled her head into the crook of his neck.

Her emotional hug was absolutely oppressive to the Saiyan, but an arm still involuntarily draped itself around her back. He found himself once again battling with his desire to keep her in his arms, but his rational side won the fight. Prying her elated frame from his the second time, he stood straight, stepped away from her and turned around. "Don't expect me to save your pathetic ass next time," he gruffly said in an attempt to distance himself.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her nod knowingly. He then looked down at his body and sneered at the grease which now coated his skin. His eyes flashed angrily at the source of the grease which was now standing and beaming her ridiculous smile at him. "You'd better take a shower," she giggled in glee as her endorphins kicked in gear. "We can't have you walking around smelling like me." She then winked at him and turned her gaze to the gaping hole in the chamber's core.

The Saiyan took her advice and made his way to his residential chambers. After that event the Saiyan periodically checked on the woman's ki signature. He categorized her whereabouts and scrutinized the energy signals around her. He told himself if she were to be seriously injured no one would fix his training gear, but a small part of him still resented the practice.

The thick slime the woman had deposited on him had been hard to remove. He could still smell the lingering on his skin and cursed the effect it had on his mind. It smelled exactly like the best form of the woman: submerged head first in the control panel of his gravity room. He growled audibly at the thought and tightened his towel around his muscular frame.

As he exited the bathroom, he discerned her tiny energy at his door. Before she could rap on it, he swung the door open in frustration. "What do you want," he barked at her.

She stood before him with a small amount of surprise on her face. She had removed some of the gobs of grease, but was still relatively covered in the stuff. She looked like she was holding her breath and a slight tinge of pink came across her cheeks. Her eyes travel to a well known scar on his shoulder and then shaking her head, she returned her gaze to his eyes. "What you did today," she started quickly, but then a slow smile spread across her lips and she sentimentally said, "It was really kind of you."

He felt his muscles flinch and his body bristled at her comment. "I'm not kind, you imbecile," he harshly responded to her overtly gushy statement.

She pursed her lips together and raised her chin in defiance. "Well, I'm gonna remember your act of heroism however I want," she cheekily responded to his agitated mannerisms and then dragged her lips into an insolent smile. Vegeta curled his lip and prepared to shut the door on her smiling face. She placed her now clean hand against his door and raised her eyebrows slightly. "I'll have it up and running by tomorrow, kay?" Her voice housed an overabundance of cheer that Vegeta felt uncomfortable around. He nodded his head in affirmation of her comment. She cocked her head to the side and softly asked, "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

Vegeta released an annoyed huff and narrowed his eyes at the pleading woman. In a bored tone he said, "You're going to ask regardless." He watched as she tried to decide whether she should continue and then her eyes firmed in determination.

In a tone rid of its previous whine she evenly asked, "Do you miss your previous life?" She was looking at him with the expectancy of a child. As if she were thinking he would divulge his thoughts in a melodramatic life story.

"Every fucking day," he growled at her and slammed the door on her pretty little face. He did not like where their interactions were headed. The woman seemed to think they had an emotional connection. A shiver of disgust ran through his body at the thought of revealing his personal thoughts and feelings to another. He was not a man who needed to confide in others; the closest he could reach was boasting about his accomplishments.

When he was honest with himself he really did not miss that life. He had been allowed to be brutal and fought every day, but constantly looking over his shoulder for the sadistic lizard was something the man would never miss. On Earth, he was living a pathetically serene existence, but he never had to worry about being tortured or starved. He was provided with excellent training gear and suitable housing. The Prince missed the endless battling of his previous life, but nothing else. Currently, he was preparing for two intense battles. Both of which he awaited with eager anticipation.

The baseball star had not been to his girlfriend's house very often in the past few weeks. She regularly came up with excuses to meet elsewhere, and he was starting to become suspicious. It was almost as if she was trying to hide something in the house. That's not the only problem, thought the bandit-turned-upstanding citizen as he drove towards the Capsule Corporation complex.

His long time friend and companion had become distant. The time she spent with him seemed to be out of a necessity rather than a pleasurable experience. He had felt that from her after their visit from the time traveler, but a month ago that had changed. Her feelings had turned around dramatically and for a little while, she would cling to him like a baby monkey. Then she slowly dipped back into her current state.

He looked to the flowers and candy sitting in his passenger seat. Today he was going to surprise her with gifts, and they would spend the whole day in absolute bliss. As long as he doesn't interrupt, he thought to himself in anger.

If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he was actually jealous of the Saiyan. The man lived with his girlfriend and seemed to have some sort of power over her. He was not sure how he would define it, but Bulma was always quick to defend the evil man at any sign of degradation. It would not bother him if she did the same for her own boyfriend. The Saiyan was always debasing him, and she never rushed to his aid. He gripped the steering wheel at his bitter thoughts and continued down the destructive path.

Yamcha had noticed several occasions where Bulma was obviously ogling her house guest. She would shrug it off and say, "Well, he's practically naked." But Yamcha thought it was a pitiful excuse and held the other man responsible. Vegeta had absolutely no decency. He strutted about the house in small spandex shorts not considering the effect on the women of the household. Bulma's mother did not help with the issue; she merely egged on her daughter's growing appreciation.

The alien had even gone so far as to suggest having spent a night with Bulma. Yamcha shook his head at the thought, Bulma would never… As the idea crossed his mind a twinge of doubt entered his mind. The evil man's boast was around the same time that Bulma became interested in a relationship again. A confident smile came on the man's face as he realized a valid point. Even it something had happened, the current outcome would mean that the beauty had chosen him instead of the egotistical Saiyan. He still did not think Bulma would do something so reckless. But then she has always craved adventure, he thought to himself in a rebuttal.

His knuckles had now turned white by his intense grip. Everytime he thought about the man's statement from a month ago, he ended the internal argument in a dead heat. Giving up, he released a sigh and tried to forget about the obnoxious Saiyan. He and his girlfriend were going to have a happy day together.

Putting the car in park, he exited his vehicle and walked to the front door. Clearing his mind of his previous thoughts, he knocked on the door loudly. After a few minutes, the door opened and he heard her cheerful mother say, "Oh Yamcha, Bulma didn't tell me you were coming." She then stepped to the side allowing the man to enter.

"Yeah," Yamcha thought awkwardly, "It's a surprise." He then followed her to the kitchen as she pranced towards the counter. He set his girlfriend's gifts on the counter and turned to her mother.

She was picking up a large wooden spoon and then began to mix a large pitcher of liquid. "Oh, how romantic!" Bunny was swooning at the idea, and then she looked to the young man next to her. A look of momentary concern crossed her face before she walked to him and put her arm in his. "My Bulma dear," she then sighed in a dreamy way and continued, "She always places such strapping men around her."

Yamcha felt his teeth clench at her comment. The older woman was maddening; it was like she did not notice that her daughter and he were exclusively dating. He looked to the side petulantly and asked, "Is she here?" His voice was short and he suddenly felt guilty for speaking to the cheerful woman in that way. He looked at her and smiled in apology.

"She's in that gravity what-cha-ma-call-it." Bunny said nonchalantly as she turned back to her pitcher of lemonade.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation and thought, Of course she is. He then brought a hand up in the air and dispassionately said, "Thanks."

Exiting the house, the man quickly progressed towards the spherical object sitting in the middle of the Briefs' once beautiful yard. Stepping up the ramp, he saw the love of his life sitting in the center of the room with her legs spread out in different directions and a pile of circuitry sprawled across her lap. Even covered in grime and delved in her work the woman was absolutely beautiful. And she's all mine, his chest swelled as he thought. He put a hand on the door frame and satisfyingly said, "Hey babe."

Her head snapped up from its work and she curtly said his name in surprise. As he walked towards her, he noticed her bloodshot eyes and pale skin. His eyebrows came together in anger as he antagonistically asked, "How long have you been working?" He knew his girlfriend often worked until early morning, but it was nearing eleven and it looked as if she had not slept all night.

Bulma began removing objects from her lap and stood up slowly. She ignored his question and hesitantly said, "Listen," she then glanced towards the door, then back at him and continued, "You shouldn't be here."

Bulma looked disturbed by his presence, and Yamcha sighed as some of his previous thoughts surfaced again. "What?" he started briskly, "I can't visit my girlfriend's home?" He thought if he reminded her verbally of their relationship, she would snap back into that role.

Her tired face twisted in a yawn and she mumbled, "No … I mean, yes." She released a long breath of air and continued, "Just not in here." She then brought her body close to his and looked up to him. Her look completely deflated his anger. She interlaced her fingers in one of his hands and squeezing lightly she said, "Let's do this tomorrow."

He shook his head in disagreement and pleadingly said, "You need a break, Bulma." She pouted at his words. "You haven't slept have you?" he did not wait for her to respond. "Let's go lie on the couch and watch a movie or something." She looked back to the pile of electrical components she had left behind and lightly nodded her head. He then pulled her towards the exit and out of the Saiyan's sanctuary.

As they crossed the lawn together, Yamcha felt a prickle of energy from above him. He followed the signal with his eyes and saw the form of Vegeta on the rooftop. He was sitting with one arm draped across his bent knee and glaring at the human male with intense hatred. Get used to it, Prick, Yamcha thought towards the houseguest. The idea of the Saiyan lording over his girlfriend was like nails on a chalkboard. He quickened their pace towards the kitchen door after sending a hateful sneer back to the vertically challenge man.

As soon as they started the movie, Bulma's head fell to his lap and she drifted into her much needed sleep. He looked down at the woman lovingly and ran his callused hands along her slender neck. He did not understand why she pushed herself so hard for the selfish Saiyan. He was torn between two ideas. Rationally thinking, the inhumanly powerful man could save their race from the androids. But emotionally, he wondered if his girlfriend had less altruistic motives.

He allowed his head to fall back onto the pillows of the couch, running his thumb up and down the nape of her neck rhythmically. He felt himself drifting into a cat nap as contentment swarmed through his body.

"Yamcha," he heard a voice beside him say softly. "Do you want some lunch?" He looked to his right to see Bunny smiling sweetly at him with her head cocked to the side. He was about to shake his head when his stomach spoke for him. The rumble was loud enough for the older woman to hear, and she giggled in response. Walking out of the room she said, "I'll fix you a plate."

He gently lifted Bulma's head and slid his body out from underneath her. He grabbed one of the couch pillows and set her head on it slowly. She mumbled incoherently, shifted slightly and then fell back into her deep sleep.

He walked into the kitchen and sat down across from the gorging Saiyan. He had four plates that he imagined were once piled with food sitting in front of him. The man completely ignored the table's new inhabitant. Yamcha's eyes narrowed involuntarily as he grabbed a fork and shoved a pot sticker into his mouth. As he chewed his food, he thought to himself, I have to say something.

He swallowed the entire contents of his mouth and forcefully said, "She's not superhuman, you know." The other man's eyes bored into his as he continued his statement. "You can't keep pushing her like this." Yamcha watched as the man forked a few more mouthfuls of food into his mouth and chewed slowly. Doubt started to enter his mind, He's not gonna listen to me.

Then the man responsible for Yamcha's death spoke in his gruff voice, "She's returning services rendered." His unreadable face slowly morphed into a satisfied smirk as his eyes continued to gouge Yamcha's countenance.

Yamcha looked at the man in perplexed thought. He did not like how that statement sounded. The look on the vicious man's face made the comment sound sexual. His hand clenched into fists and slammed one down on the counter. "She's not a machine, you insensitive jerk!" He was screaming at the man across the table having completely forgotten about the sleeping woman in the next room.

The Saiyan let out a derisive snicker and mockingly said, "Insensitive?" He paused for a second as he flashed his incisors at his advisory and continued, "Quite the insult."

Bulma's mother brought another plate to the table and giggled like a school girl. "Oh, don't fight you two." She then flicked her hand through the air and said, "She'll choose who she wants no matter who wins this battle."

Yamcha looked at the older woman in disbelief. There were only two options: either Bunny was completely oblivious or he was. This argument was not over the rights to Bulma. She was his girlfriend, and more importantly, she would never actually choose this homicidal maniac over him. An image flashed through his mind.

Yamcha was picking her up for a date about four days ago. As he walked in the door he saw Bulma sitting in an uncomfortable kitchen chair wearing in a small red dress. An elbow was on the table with her head resting on the attached hand. Her eyes were dreamy focused on something across the room. She released a wistful sigh and a small pout graced her gorgeous face. As he entered the room, he realized her stare was directed at her houseguest retrieving something from the refrigerator.

His attention was dragged from the memory as the domineering man stood from his seat. The man looked down at him with disgust and said, "Do not interfere with my training, weakling." Yamcha was still stunned by the effects of Bunny's comment. He could not manage a comeback before the other man sauntered out of the room.

As the back door slammed, he rocketed to his feet and trudged back to the sleeping woman on the couch. He had full intentions of voicing his concern to his girlfriend but as his eyes fell on her peaceful form, he merely sat next to her quietly.

He spent the next few hours, mulling about his love life with discontented apprehension until she finally released a small noise and lifted her body. She reached her arms into the air and let out a small satisfied squeak. "That was nice," Bulma said as she turned to the man beside her. She then squinted her eyes at him in happiness and smiled largely.

Yamcha grimaced at the thought of disrupting her peace, but he had to talk with his girlfriend seriously. "Bulma," he started a little too harshly. Wrapping one of his hands around hers, he restarted more softly, "Bulma." She was looking at him openly and inquisitively. "Why do you owe Vegeta a favor?" When he asked the question, dread seeped into his mind in anticipation of her answer.

"What?" Bulma voiced her confusion and then in a slightly panicked voice she continued, "What do you mean?"

Yamcha noticed a small blush forming on her cheeks and his stomach flipped at its appearance. "He said you were fixing the gravity room for 'services rendered.'" The statement came out through clenched teeth as he tried to contain his anger towards the evil houseguest.

Bulma mouth formed a perfect circle as she realized his meaning. The blush dissipated from her face, and she giggled lightly. "Well," she started slowly and then biting her lip, she chose her words carefully. "The gravity simulator turned on while I was in the room, and he forcibly disengaged the drive." She nodded her head once in apparent satisfaction at her description. "I thought I would fix it, since," she paused again as she struggled with the words. "Since, the room would be operational if it weren't for me." She beamed at him, but he saw the apprehension in her eyes.

He thought about her explanation and reassigned the implications of her words. It sounded like the murderer had saved his girlfriend's life. Although he was happy she was still alive, he did not like that she was now indebted to the maniac. In disbelieving words the baseball star said, "So, he saved you." The statement caused his stomach to revolt in aversion.

Bulma bit her lip lightly and smile awkwardly. "I guess you could say it like that."

He felt like she was trying to tone down a hugely significant event in her life. Why would she try and deceive me? He thought to himself. He would think about that later. For now, he wanted to enjoy her presence and have a relaxing day. Ready to put his anger behind him, he smiled knowingly at his girlfriend. In a joking manner he jeeringly said, "Great, now you're gonna develop some hero complex for him." He had expected his comment to lighten the mood, but Bulma response only intensified their discussion.

Her eyebrows lowered over her now cobalt eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," she said heatedly. Then she tightened her lips and asked. "Don't you trust me?" The question was so forceful, Yamcha found himself wondering if she was asking herself or him.

He shrugged his shoulders and coolly said, "Well, you're already practically a slave for him!" He did not like what he was saying, but he knew it was the truth.

She shot up from her seat in a rush of anger. "I am not his slave!" She shouted down at her antagonizing boyfriend.

Apparently, that idea sat as badly with her as it did with him. He had to make her realize that her arrogant houseguest was taking advantage of her. "Then why do you work so hard for him?" The venom in his voice surprised him, but he stuck by his statement and rose from his sitting position. He now looked down at her and saw a small amount of doubt flicker in her eyes.

She turned her head to the side and stared at an indistinguishable place on the floor. In a soft voice she said, "Indirectly it's not for him." She looked up at him hopefully as he digested her words.

It took him a few moments to recognize the double negative, and he wrinkled his nose in aggravation. "So, you admit that this work is all directly for him." He brought his hand up and lifted a finger to emphasize his point.

"Ugh," she sighed and threw her arms up in frustration. "See it however you want, Yamcha." She turned to leave the room and said, "I promised I'd have it functional today. I need to get back to work." With that, she left her boyfriend alone in the living room.

Yamcha's shoulders slouched in failure. Not only had he been unsuccessful in opening Bulma's eyes to the truth, he had also not had a relaxing day with her. Yamcha went to the kitchen and opened one of the draws. Grabbing a pen and paper, he wrote his girlfriend a small note of apology and stuck it between the stems of flowers. "Bunny," he questioned as he turned to her mother. "Can you make sure Bulma gets these?" The older woman nodded in agreement.

Yamcha skirted from the house in dejection. He hoped his girlfriend would cool her temper and allow herself to remember their relationship. He was feeling increasingly marginalized, but he knew he could preserver.

~~~ Author's Note ~~~

I you have gotten through this chapter you should have also read my other story, Grasping at Straws. This is part two of that story.

I hope to hear from each of you (in the form of a review)! I love criticisms, compliments, and your opinions. If you see anything wrong, please let me know. I want to become a better writer!