Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 2: Nothing like a Basket of Sandwiches

It was a nice day of spring. Warm, but not too warm, and with a soft breeze. Birds were chirping, the trees were a lush green and Bunny's flowers were all blooming. The lovely weather and the sight of her beautiful garden had obviously lifted Bunny's spirits, as she spent time practically drooling over her rhododendrons as she watered them intervened by time she spent twirling around with her watering can singing some song called 'May Spring Flowers' by a band called 'Flora Tune'.

Luckily for Bulma Briefs, taste was not proven to be something genetic, and even if it would someday be proven otherwise, she had obviously not inherited this particular side to her mother. Because despite the nice, inviting weather, we find our cerulean-haired scientist below in the basement-leveled laboratory, bent over some device together with her lavender-haired father and his obsidian cat.

"Dad, don't you think so too? I repaired this scouter ages ago, but I never thought of the possibility back then. But if we just figure this last bit of the mechanism out, I really think we'll be able to make a device that transmits everything said in a room to Capsule Corp. We won't have to deal with an appliance that records everything said anymore; that only endangers the company when someone finds the thing. It'll seem harmless when someone finds it, even after testing. And we can keep an eye on concurring companies."

Mr. Briefs frowned and lit a cigarette. His daughter was looking at him expectantly, and he didn't want to disappoint her. But what she was suggesting just didn't seem right, and he really worried about the moral standards of his little girl every now and then.

"Sweetheart, I see your point, but it wouldn't be right to listen in on other companies. I do know where you're coming from; being practically the only technological company that manages to get products on the market and that people have interest in has made us a lot of enemies over the years. And I would like to study the communication-mechanisms of this scouter more; it's remarkable how it doesn't transmit any other sound than speech, and that even across galaxies without any form of satellite-connection or electricity-web… It is astounding and I think we can make a lot of products thanks to this contraption. But despite having been attacked by envious companies in the past, I refuse to listen in elsewhere."

Bulma's shoulders sagged. This was probably what she ought to expect from her father, and it was a good quality in him that she admired, she knew she lacked it; she would always head out for self-preservation.

But still, that man could be so naïve! How many times had other companies almost wrecked theirs now? How many times had she cleaned up contraptions other companies had sneaked into their laboratory to spy? How many times had a scientist her father thought a friend taken credit for his hard work, and had he just let it slide?

And here she was, with a perfectly good idea to prevent such things and protect their company and more importantly, her family and stubborn father, and he just threw it aside!

How on earth would her parents be okay if she went to another planet again? She'd only heard about the intercepted company phone-calls and the infiltration of a lackey in her father's company while she'd been dragonball-hunting on Namek yesterday-evening, and she'd spent all night in the lab since then.

She sighed and gave her father a tired smile.

"Well, it's true that there are lots of impressive things we can create if we crack this mechanism first. The people that can afford it could get cell phones that never fail them, right? There are lots of things we can offer people improvement on. I hope you're ready for the conferences, dad!"

Her father snickered at that one.

"Just do me a favor?" she pressed on, knowing that she might be pushing her luck. Her father's smile faded, but he nodded attentively, urging her to go on.

"At least think about it, dad. We could automatically record everything that the semi-scouter transmits here on Capsule Corp, we could have someone from security screen the recordings every day, and we'd never even have to know of it if there isn't anything suspicious recorded. It would be top-secret and we'd never stick our noses in business that doesn't concern us, we'll only hear of it if it could be or become a potential security breech to us. Please? I'd like to know you and mom are safe whenever I'm not around."

That touched him; his eyes imbued with tears at those words.

"I'll consider it, Bulma."

She nodded. "Thanks dad." She stood up, readying herself to walk upstairs, grab something to eat, and go outside. She looked back at her dad, thinking she ought to say that she was going and where to, but the man was already busying himself with the scouter, practically frantic with glee at the sight of the ingenious contraption. She smiled and walked out of the lab.

It wasn't until Bulma walked out of the house that she noticed how warm it was. She quickly took her woollen jersey off, Gods, was it really that cold in the lab? Why did her father never notice that? But then again, she became just as absent-minded as he was after getting into a project. The difference was that her dad always was absent-minded.

Then she heard voices. Singing. There were voices singing. It actually sounded quite in tune, and she really started to get the feeling some school children and their female teacher were rehearsing for the 'Sound of Music' musical just outside the compound.

When she turned the block of their circular garden, she burst out laughing. Her mother and about five Namekian children were singing her mom's favorite song 'May Spring Flowers' enthusiastically and the adults watched in awe. It really was quite a picture.

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He had been living on earth for a week now. Just that thought alone was the most absurd and distressing thing. He had lived on planet Vegeta, and that haven had gone when he turned five and his father gave him to Frieza. Ever since then, Vegeta did not live on planets.

He purged them of every possible life form and then went again.

He did not live on Frieza's spaceship or his bases or in the regeneration-tanks he always ended up in. He was kept there like some spare toy, ordered there like a soldier, or put there to remain able to fulfill some job he'd never chosen.

Sure, he spent as much time as he could making sure everyone on those places feared him, he spent as much time as he could making demands and passing on orders, and he spent as much time as he could reminding everyone of his heritage.

But those who mattered would always remind him of the harsh reality of his position.

No, Vegeta did not live on planets. And to be on a planet without having a course of action he could follow, a strategic plan of destruction, was just ominous.

To make matters worse, the people here did not fear him. He had at least expected a "Don't kill anyone!"-warning from these strange violence-fearing humans when he'd decided to scout the planet he was on properly on his third day. But no, nothing. The blond bimbo even tried to push some food on him to take on his 'picnic-trip'.

When he'd stalked into the kitchen on the second day, planning on demanding some food and taking matters into his own hands now he was stuck there waiting for Kakarot anyway, food was already there waiting for him. It was like that blond woman had a sense for it. She simply never gave him the opportunity to demand something. Not that he shouldn't be treated that way, after all, he was royalty! But this just wasn't normal and it thoroughly confused him.

Every night, he'd eaten with the Briefs family in silence. Well, he had been the silent one, the woman and her mother had been chatting away constantly.

But he'd done what he could, distancing himself from them and their conversations, and even the blond woman no longer tried to drag him into their trivial chit-chat. He'd even heard her comment, oh so brightly, that "that wonderful, handsome Vegeta needs his space."

It was worrisome though how Bulma's airhead-mother was constantly batting her eyelashes and giggling in his presence and making the most inappropriate, vulgar comments on how he looked like. And what was worse, it worried Vegeta that Mrs. Briefs' attitude, viewing Vegeta as some eligible stud, seemed to rub off on her daughter.

Of course, Bulma'd already called Vegeta 'cute' without the ditz her help before; when she'd first invited him to stay at her father's compound. And she'd obviously inherited the knack of obsessing with everything moderately attractive she set her eyes on from her mother. She'd already proven that flaw when she met Zarbon on Namek.

The memory of the priceless look of exasperation on her face after he'd finally gotten Zarbon to transform and show her his ugly self still made him snicker.

Still, even though the self-loving woman seemed to be just as annoyed by her mother as he was and seemed to feel more than a tad humiliated by her behavior; she too had had times at the dinner table in which she couldn't stop looking at him, bursting into girlish giggles and looking again. Like some pathetic earthling schoolgirl.

But then again, the bratty girl couldn't help it. He was amazing. He'd have to remind himself to make sure to give her some jabs the next time she was in a silly mood like that, though. He could make her feel so ashamed… hah, that would be funny!

He had to watch his back, though… it wasn't normal for his thoughts to get side-tracked like this and dawdle on these insignificant humans. He shouldn't allow it; they'd shape him like some toy before he'd become aware of it. He had but one goal, one reason: Kakarot.

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Vegeta almost started gagging when he entered the compound again after he'd gone to cool off in a forest near the city. The bubblehead was dancing and singing with Namekian children, as if there wasn't a care in the world. His ears; it was like torture.

And there she was, miss "I have blue hair and I'm so pretty and brilliant at the same time", looking at the scene in awe. She was practically beaming. This was probably another one of those sights the female would refer to as 'cute'. Only Kami knew why the woman had decided he belonged to 'one of those sights' too. But then again, insanity seemed to run in her family.

He shrugged his head, put his hands on his hips and stalked past the woman haughtily.

Bulma's eyes widened in surprise as Vegeta walked across the path right in front of her, placing himself between her and her mother with the Nameks, heading determinedly to the courtyard without passing her a glance.

"Hey Vegeta, I haven't seen you around since yesterday."

"Hn."

Well, so much for acknowledgement.

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"Did you have fun with the little green kids mom?" Bulma asked, half charmed, half amused.

"Oh well sure we did, I haven't had so much fun in years, we should really tell them to stay and not leave for another planet, I've become as attached to them as to my sweet dinosaurs!"

"Ugh mom, they're not your pets you know!" Bulma exclaimed, exasperated by how her mom could think sometimes.

"Anyway, it just wouldn't be practical if they stayed here forever, they have fun here but they really need their peace and their own place. Their planet was a war-zone when I was there with Gohan and Krillin, but their unscathed nature pretty much said enough."

She smiled at the memory. It had just been a week since she'd been there, and it already seemed nostalgic, dream-like, even. As if it had never happened.

"Mm? Well, whatever you say honey," her mom said absent-mindedly while placing plates from the sink in the dishwasher, probably having stopped listening after her daughter's line of thought became too complicated for her to follow.

"Why do you always insist on filling the dishwasher and cooking things up yourself? We have robots for that, you know!"

Her mom had been like that since she was little, but it never stopped getting on her nerves. But since Bunny had dealt with this issue of her daughter's so many times before, she just giggled until her daughter decided it was time to exit the kitchen.

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Humming all the while, Bunny was filling various sandwiches strewn across the dresser with ham and honey mustard sauce, turkey and ketchup curry, roast beef and lettuce and last but not least, mushroom sausage and herb butter.

With a growling stomach and stretching, her husband, who had just now, five o'clock in the afternoon, left his laboratory, walked up behind her.

"Is that for me?" he asked, saliva already gathering in his mouth.

"Oh no-no-no," she replied, wagging her finger disapprovingly. "This is for Vegeta. You know these saiyans have to eat, otherwise they get famished, and Vegeta left this morning without eating anything at all. And he still hasn't shown his face in the kitchen, either. And since we're going to have a barbeque with our neighbors tonight I figured Vegeta would rather eat something by himself. Would you be a sweetheart and fetch our daughter for me? I think she's in her room, catching up on some of the sleep she missed last night."

Bunny smiled sweetly, nudging him to leave her to her sandwich-preparations.

"Eh, barbeque? Since when…?"

But he swallowed the question away, seeing the very rare, angry look that appeared in his wife's eyes. That barbeque was obviously something he ought to have known about.

"Err, I'll eh, go fetch Bulma!" And, the wise man that he was, he ran for it.

The look of anger faded away from Bunny immediately as the stupid smile plastered itself on her face again and she continued preparing the sandwiches, humming all the while.

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Bulma sauntered along the pebbled path towards their courtyard with a huge, braided basket filled to the top with sandwiches in her right hand, being severely annoyed with the task she had been dragged out of her much-needed beauty-sleep for. Why did she have to bring Vegeta his food? If her mom thought it so important, why didn't she do it herself? Besides, it was his own fault if he stayed outside instead of coming into the house if he was hungry.

Sighing, she sped up. Man, this basket was actually heavy. As she walked up to the courtyard, she didn't notice Vegeta at first. There were a couple of Namek-children running around, and a couple of the older Nameks busied themselves with a puzzle her father had given them. Piccolo was leaning against a tree, blending in with the green perfectly.

She walked on, scanning the courtyard until she finally noticed the saiyan prince, sitting against a tree with his eyes closed. Her mom had told her that he'd been gone all night and day and that he'd disappeared into the courtyard since he got back. What the hell was that man brooding over if he even forgot the important fact that he had to eat?

The bright scientist decided she was tired after having been woken for such an unnecessary task and sat down next to Vegeta, placing the basket in front of him. At first he didn't respond at all, which wasn't something new, but this time around, she was confident he was very aware of her presence. That man really had an attitude-problem!

"Caaaaaveman... oy!!! Food in front of you at twelve o'clock."

Vegeta opened his eyes. He looked tired somehow. Strange, because Piccolo had told her somewhere yesterday-afternoon that he was surprised he'd never felt Vegeta's ki surge since they lived on the compound. This meant he wasn't training, or at least not doing anything that resembled what would be training for someone using advanced ki.

But maybe he'd done training today? She didn't know, but she still felt something ought to change in Piccolo's demeanor when he'd been raising his ki signature.

Without a look or word to her, Vegeta pulled the basket towards him and grabbed a turkey-sandwich out of its contents, chewing slowly.

Bulma shrugged; she was just too tired to care. She closed her eyes, feeling strangely calmed by the playful sounds and innocent laughter from the Namek-kids and the hard-to-hear sounds from the puzzle-making adults. They were so quiet she thought she'd, with her eyes closed, actually be able to mistake them for trees if she didn't know better, their leaves rustled by the wind. These Nameks had an air of seeming like just another part of nature.

For the first time, Vegeta started eyeing the woman next to him. He was working on his third sandwich, a ham-one. Was she actually sleeping, hardly an inch away from him, against the tree he'd chosen as a good spot to be, well, left alone?

"You can leave now."

He didn't know if she'd hear that if she was already in dreamland, but it was worth the try. He didn't feel like going through more trouble than she was worth to get her away from him.

Bulma half-opened her eyes, yawning.

"Thank you for reminding me that it's physically possible for me to leave now, Vegeta. I really think I'd have forgotten otherwise. Well, night-night."

And she closed her eyes again.

It had taken a while, but now, he was surprised. What the hell was she thinking?

"Woman, I'm ordering you to leave or you just might end up in a very miserable state."

His charcoal eyes were looking at her intently, unwavering, waiting for an answer.

The woman really didn't seem to take his threat seriously, though.

"Well?" Vegeta demanded. "What will it be?"

Cyan eyes were looking at Vegeta now, pleading tiredly and innocently.

"C'mon Vegeta, I had to wake up from my sleep and drag that heavy basket of sandwiches all the way over here for you, and now my poor legs are too tired to walk back! I didn't sleep at all last night, and I'm not going to molest my poor body any further by walking back. No sir, say whatever you want, I'm staying put."

Vegeta grunted.

"Woman, I'm saying you'll be hurt if you continue sitting here!"

Again, she yawned. "Yes, I'm noticing."

And instead of standing up, like he was still half-expecting her to, she let herself slide along the tree even further, brushing against him in the process.

Either her human senses were too cut off from anything to notice, or she just didn't care.

Vegeta, severely uncomfortable now, seemed to be stewing on his next step.

Lift the woman up, put her over his shoulders and drag her inside? Then she would get her way.

Let it slide and just keep eating, hoping she'd leave eventually? Then she would get her way too.

He could just blast her away, and he probably should, but The Namek, as he always called the first Namek he'd set eyes on, Piccolo, was standing near them. And sure, he was no match for the great Vegeta, but it just wasn't worth the trouble. He wanted to wait for Kakarot more than anything else, and wreaking havoc here wouldn't help him there.

He could just lift her up and put her against some other tree. She actually seemed asleep now, maybe she wouldn't even notice. He didn't want to risk her shrieking.

He weighed the option, but realizing he had to touch her for that, he decided on just continuing his meal and pretending he didn't realize the woman was practically sleeping on him by now. No, wait, that wasn't working either. Her head was lolling sideways and had started resting on his shoulder now. This was just great.

Why did he, prince of all saiyans, have to put up with this? Just because he didn't want a couple of green beans to get upset? He ought to be king of the saiyan race, or a ruler of galaxies. What the hell had he been reduced to?! Damn it all. This was all Kakarot's fault.

Very carefully, making sure not to wake the woman up, he pushed the woman away from him a couple of inches.

The problem was her head, though. Filled with her million flaws and stupidities, it was quite heavy. And it seemed to be heading towards the ground. But catching her and placing her head someplace else, seemed a little too much like something Kakarot would do.

So Bulma's head hit hard against the ground, Bulma awoke with a shriek, Nameks started staring and Vegeta began smiling. He had been wrong, he felt way more comfortable now. He took another turkey-sandwich and offered the woman a roast-beef one, smiling all the while.

"You want one? You should really do something about that heavy head of yours."

Bulma's cheeks flushed and she started shouting at him.

"What the hell did you have to do that for jerk? I think I have a bump on my head!"

"Oh really? I'd have thought you were too sleepy to notice. It suits you, though," Vegeta answered, practically dripping with glee at how humorous he'd apparently started to find this situation.

"Do you want this, though?" he asked, still waving the beef-sandwich in front of her.

Maybe it didn't work for Bulma, but him offering her a sandwich definitely worked for the Nameks, as it had obviously been a gesture that had made them decide it was okay and Vegeta wasn't posing a real danger to their blue-haired hostess. They were minding their own business again. He didn't know about The Namek though, he hadn't left his tree but he was too far away to see if there were any changes in his features.

Bulma's stomach was growling though, it was already past six and her mom was already barbequing with the neighbors. God, she hated those people. They were so superficial, it was just not normal.

She shrugged her shoulders. Why the hell not? She was hungry, and Vegeta was still better company than they were, at least. She'd have to give him that much credit. He'd never ask all the unnecessary questions and say the unnecessary things they did.

She grabbed the sandwich out of his hands, and started taking bites off of it. Vegeta snickered and continued eating. After she'd finished it, she decided she could take her chances and sneak a turkey-sandwich out of the saiyan's basket. She hadn't even been wrong, besides raising his eyebrow; he didn't even attempt to stop her.

"What have you been doing outside of Capsule Corp all day?" she began conversationally.

"Don't get your hopes up," he replied.

She laughed.

"Hey, you can't blame a girl for trying."

She winked at him at that.

He gave her an exasperated look. Gods, she was acting just like when she'd called him cute again. And she was so vulgarly inappropriate, trying to make conversation with a saiyan prince like that, with a warrior that could exterminate her without the blink of an eye!

She giggled, seeing how frustrated he looked. He was so cute when he became angry but, with all his power, felt powerless to change the situation he was in. Like a little boy. He could be so uncomfortable with the most normal things. He really was a prude; not used to anything.

Giggling once more, she stole another sandwich, one with mushroom sausage this time, while she was still working on her turkey-one, and stood up from the tree.

"See you around, Vegeta… good luck with the tree-hugging; I'm sure the Nameks will be ready to take you in any time now." She laughed at her little joke as she walked back to the house, avoiding the barbeque with a large detour; God, she was so amazing!

Vegeta, now with a couple of Nameks staring at him again, flushed, jumped up, gathered his basket, (God, why had the woman put it all in such a girly basket, it wasn't as if he could leave without the food; he'd only eaten eight sandwiches so far), and flew off with the sound of laughter in his back. Laughter directed at him.

Damn that woman. He had never felt so humiliated! How dare she. How dare she.

But he'd get her back for this one.

He would.