I don't own Dragon Ball/Z/GT. I'm not making money off of this.
The silly monkey. He'd nearly blown himself to Kami. He would have been so upset being dead while the others fought the androids. And what a Tantrum that would be! Bulma smiled, imagining the scions of Hell trying to deal with the enraged Sayijin. She added to that the irony of him reaching Super Sayijin while in Hell. Now that would be an upset Vegeta.
Bulma leaned back in her chair, losing her smile as she let the amusing line of thought dissipate. She should have realized he would train himself until he broke. She was the same with her inventions. She frowned. Vegeta had not been the one to break. Her machine had not held up to his efforts. Worse, it had incapacitated him by its explosion. She felt as if she had failed. And her pride had suffered a blow.
She leaned forward and went over her data again. Shrapnel from what was left of the Gravity Chamber gave her an idea of what forces her new design needed to withstand. She had doubled her projected figures. Not only would she need to accommodate Vegeta's growth in power, but doing the impossible once again would salve her wounded pride.
…
Vegeta was not pleased. The air-headed, blonde bimbo had arrived. He had learned that insults, hints, yelling, nor glaring would make Bulma's mother vacate any sooner than she so chose. And she was chatty today.
She went on about some neighbor's new hair-something and someone else's shoes while she briskly set out his Sayijin-sized portions of lunch. The table swung out over the infirmary bed groaned. He staunchly ignored her, picking up the first plate and gracefully wolfing it down. Why did almost everything on this damnable planet taste like chicken?
…
The coffee arrived, heralding Bulma's break. The coffee was accompanied with food, which she daintily engulfed. Then, sipping her coffee, she went over the latest modifications she had made to her design. The work crew outside had already started construction on a bigger base for the gravity chamber. She had six hours before they were ready for the component she was slaving over. She smirked. She'd have it done in two.
…
Vegeta was out of bed when breakfast was wheeled in. The cart came to an abrupt halt. He caught a small cauldron of oatmeal whose mass had failed to slow with that of the cart. The blonde pusher of the cart stared at him over the mountain of pancakes. Then she started to verbally worry over him about being out of bed. Vegeta Scowled.
…
Bulma was hanging upside down, working on a delicate column component, when her mother burst in. It took the ditzy woman a moment to locate her daughter. Upon doing so, she opened her mouth, and didn't shut it for the whole hour Bulma took to finish the component. Done, the genius swung down, walked around her mother (who was still talking), and drained what was left of her cold coffee.
Cutting her mother off, she patiently explained that Vegeta wouldn't get out of bed and hurt himself again until he was at least mostly mended, he was smart enough to know it was important to heal. He was probably just checking on himself or stretching a bit. No, she would not get some sleep. And would her kind loving mother please get her more coffee? She was out again.
…
Vegeta was glaring at the wall again. This little break had put him even further behind his rival. He would allow one more day of rest. Then he would be sound enough to start blowing things up again. Making himself relax, Vegeta Slept.
…
Bulma Worked.
…