"Vegeta, dear, you've barely touched your dinner." The bubbly blond woman who was Bulma's mother exclaimed with a smile. It was true, he was half way through the massive plate and full. He would have expected the average human to underestimate the appetite of a saiyan, but with these servings, you would think they were used to serving Nappa. She took another bite, then continued, "You don't eat nearly as much as that sweetheart, Goku."

'So, that explains it.', he thought, rolling his eyes.

Just after the food left his mind, the embarrassment of being called "dear" raced to take its place.

"Don't call me that." that the only response he was able to muster for her cheerful exclamation.

The woman chuckled. "No problem, Sweetie."

He felt his cheeks burn. "Please." he said with some difficulty, desperate to remain calm.

Now Bulma chimed in. "Did I ever tell you that you look adorable when you blush?" And this, of coarse, only made things worse.

"Doesn't he, though?" The blond women said in a way Vegeta could only describe as a "kitten voice".

He stood up, panicking, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. And so he granted his own wish. "I think I need some sleep."

With a face that much have been nearly as red as the blood on his bandage, he left, sure that his speed would have caused him to virtually disappear before their eyes. He went into his bedroom--half angry; half exhausted--and drifted almost instantly into blissful and much needed slumber.

Vegeta sat on the small sofa the briefs had provided for him inside his bedroom, staring blankly at the little television set the woman had just brought in today. He'd turned it on once, and been bored with it for the most part. It wasn't his sort of entertainment. He was more content with simply thinking to himself, like he was doing now.

It had been two days since the incident, and most of his wounds were almost completely healed, the physical ones, at least.

The door opened, and Bulma stepped inside. "Ever heard of knocking?" he said, not even looking at her.

She walked toward him, and sat herself opposite him on the couch. Awkward silence filled the room. "Hay, Veg?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry about the other day."

"Whatever." he said, shrugging apathetically. "Forget about it."

"No." She slid her hand across the couch to touch his, and he felt himself flinch and blush slightly. "I won't forget about it. I should have been more sensitive. I deserve to apologize, especially after you made me feel so much better about Yamcha." He didn't say anything, so she continued, smiling a bit. "You know what? He called me yesterday, and I hung up, I didn't even begin to listen. I just put down the receiver."

He couldn't help but smile a little at this. "What about your 'first and only love'?"

Now he turned to her, and she blushed too. "It turns out that some things are more important." She gripped down on his hand, then let go, and stood up. "I care about you. You have to remember that, okay?" Again, he made no reply, so she simply left.