Bulma stomped out the elevator and down the corridor to the lab. If anyone dared to get close enough they'd hear her muttering and mumbling. She punched her access code into the keypad with a little more force than needed then continued her storm over to her desk. She plopped down into the chair and it slid back a bit. "Fine," she huffed, turning on her computer. Finding out Vegeta hadn't come back to Capsule Corp. that morning really ground her gears. If he wanted to be like that, fine. She didn't care. She didn't need the distraction. She'd just focus on work. "I mean really," she murmured, "What's his deal!" Her fingers blazed across her keyboard. They had a good night. That time had been even better than the first time. He was more into it. The way he moved with her. They were so in sync. The way he peered into her eyes as they moved together. Heat flared through her gut. She shivered but straightened herself. "Damn it," she slammed a fist down on her desk.

Pushing away from her desk, her hands needed to be at work and she needed to be covered in grime and oil by the end of the day. Her brain was obviously not up to the task today. She opened her locker and exchanged her lab coat for her coveralls. She put her Taitans rally cap on and flipped the brim up. The locker door slammed shut. Bulma threw the strap of her toolbox over her shoulder and set out to spend her day working her fingers to the bone.

The blossoming heat of the early June morning pulled away his blanket of unconsciousness. His finger dug into the dry soil. His eyes slowly opened to the golden rays shooting out from the horizon. His back rested against the rough sedimentary rock of the plateau he had created last night. His empty stomach churned. He rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders. It had been a while since he was on the hunt.

Vegeta chomped, ripping the meat from the bone of the antlered animal he hunted down. It wasn't as good as Mrs. Briefs' cooking but he had grown too customed to the luxury. He didn't need such things, it would only make him soft. He'd eat then find somewhere to bathe. The smell of the woman and what they'd done assaulted his nose and fueled his shame. Damn her.

The Saiyan crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his index finger to his bicep. The frown on his face deepened. He could still smell her. He had bathed and yet her scent was still fresh in his mind. He had even blasted some mountains and caused some wreckage for fun and yet here he was with her on the mind. He heaved a heavy sigh and extended the tapping finger. A shot of ki stemmed from his finger zapping a lizard some distance away. Moving target, 100 points. That didn't help. He could still smell her. He could still remember her touch. Warmth jolted through his gut. He had never had this problem before. No one had ever invaded his senses, piqued his interest or ignited his desire. Sex was never a big deal. He saw no reason to pursue such things. He was the perfect soldier with no need for it. He had gone through Saiyan maturity and woken up with soiled underwear, but it was just a biological response. He never had the desire to seek out such things. He never found anyone worth seeking such things from. He never let anyone close enough to desire. His only desire was to become stronger. Strong enough to free himself. Strong enough to bring glory back to the Saiyan race. He put forth all of his efforts into that one goal. It was what drove him. It was what kept him alive. It was his escape. While they all found solace in violence, Nappa and Raditz also found their escape in sex. He thought it was a waste of time. A waste of energy. Shameful.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. Now, of course, he saw the pleasures of sex. Orgasms, definitely worth the energy. Having someone leave themselves so vulnerable to you. He could have crushed her and yet she never shied away. The pride that he felt knowing he was the reason for her pleasure. His hand dragged down his face. His head hurt. His views were obviously skewed and he was more than confused on which stance to take on the subject. It was to be expected. His first encounter with sex being on his first purge mission under Frieza's tutelage. Him, being the youngest there got stuck disposing of the bodies. What he had witnessed wasn't a pleasant sight and nothing a young boy should see no matter how much of a hardened soldier. Then there was Raditz. He'd fuck anything with a pulse. Saiyanoid or not. Gender be damn. Vegeta had pummeled him on more than one occasion because of the vice effecting training or missions. Then there was when he had come of age and it was "time for the prince to become a man". Nappa and Raditz thought it would be a good idea to lock him in the room with a prostitute. "Idiots," Vegeta spat. That night hadn't ended well for anyone. The biggest deterrent was probably the lizard bastard. He extended his hand and shot a ki beam. Lunch.

He wished he had brought that pocket change Mrs. Briefs was always giving him, just in case she always said. Just in case was now and he'd left it behind it in his haste. He could always go find a human that would be so kind as to give him some or he could just go take whatever it was he wanted, but he didn't feel like interacting with any of the weaklings. He took another bite out of the charred meat of the animal he had struck down earlier. He could really go for some steak and those little octopus balls Mrs. B made. Takoyaki, that's what she called it. The backwoods mudball was shit but the weaklings did food right. He'd been out on his own for at least a week now and he was tired of eating ki charred meat. That was always the part of missions he hated. It just couldn't satisfy a Saiyan's appetite. How could a Saiyan grow if they were malnourished. He always thought it probably stunted his growth. Of course, genetics didn't help him any either. His mother had been a tiny powerhouse. He huffed. He wanted to eat. A feast fit for the Saiyan Prince. He knew of only one place he'd get that.

He cracked the leg bone and sucked the marrow out. Damn, he was going back to that stupid looking yellow dome. But the woman. "Fuck her," he spat. Why couldn't she just leave him be, let him train in peace. That was the reason for him being there. They provide the equipment for him to train and he'd take out the tin cans when they came. Then why couldn't he block her out of his mind. He took a deep breath. He wanted it. He was at a loss. He threw the bones away and crossed his arms over his chest. What was it about her? He lost all reason around her. She tried to invaded the sanctum he had built; attempted to knock down the wall he had put between himself and everyone else. She was constantly telling him to relax or just let go, urging him to let his guard down. Not everyone is out to get you, she tried to convince him. He never had the luxury to even think such things. He was groomed to be the perfect soldier. A born warrior. Any sort of lax tendency got you killed or hoping to be killed. There was no room to let guards down under Frieza's tutelage. There were no friends and no one did anything out of kindness. There was intent behind every action. He wouldn't fall victim to anyone's intention of his downfall. He trusted no one. In all honesty, not even Nappa or Raditz had his trust. Frieza's high expectations and the consequences when those expectations weren't met were wrought into him early on. He had been stripped of his destiny and birthright. Humiliated time and time again in front of Frieza's force. His own father had sold him out to the lizard bastard, so why should he trust some stupid Earth woman. Why should he believe that this woman wasn't out to get him as she claimed, she was conniving and controlling. She just wanted to hold some power over him.

He huffed and looked up to the sky. It had grown dark. Earth days and nights were so short. His gaze drifted to the moon. If you ever find yourself lost, look to the moon. The moon will always guide you, my son. He closed his eyes and whispered the ancient Saiyan prayer together with the warm, strong voice in his memories. The voice of possibly the only person he had ever trusted. She was the only woman he ever had many dealings with and he figured that's why the blue-haired woman perplexed him so. Sleep was evading him now. That was nothing new. He had nothing to do but to wonder what it was about her that drew him to her.

She had been on Namek but his only focus was on the dragon balls. He had wondered what such a trembling weakling was doing there. He had the passing thought of how ridiculous her hair color was but could see how other's might find it aesthetically pleasing. Then they ended up on Earth and the brash, vulgar woman finally appeared. On her home turf, she was no longer a quivering mess of fear. He began to realize she had guts. Who else would talk to him the way she did? Bit by bit. Wicked smile by smile, he began to respect her. She had a fire in her that caught fire to something in him. She had a presence reminiscent of memories he buried long ago. She drew him in and evoked respect. She was a challenge. One that he wouldn't run from. That's it. He'd overcome her challenge. Conquer her. Indulge himself. Once he built up enough resistance to her wiles and took back his reason, he could move on and focus on his training. Then he would be able to obtain the power of the legendary.

120 words per minutes. That was Bulma's personal best typing speed but she was probably far below that at the moment. Far too distracted singing along with the songs on the radio and not entirely focused on the itinerary she was working on that needed to be done for tomorrow. She should've been done at least an hour ago. She snapped her fingers and rocked to the song. She picked her pen up and scribbled some notes in her notepad. "Quit breaking my heart," she sang off key into the pen as she swiveled around and plucked a paper from the pile. She started typing down the content of the paper. Every since she had shown the slightest interest in Capsule Corp., she'd been groomed to take over one day. She had been put on research teams usually being the youngest there. She had learned how macro and micro manage early on and she'd be doing a lot of it soon. She was prepared. It was just what she needed. She sang into her pen, not caring if she screeched and couldn't hold a single note. She clicked save then print and pushed away from her desk. She hopped out of her seat without even waiting for it to stop rolling.

She took the elevator up to the second floor. She stopped at the kitchen to get her nightly glass of wine before settling in one of the cushy, white armchairs in the set arranged around the television. Her mother was curled up on the couch, jaw jacking on the phone. The nightly news came back on after the commercials. She nursed her glass of wine and watched some story about some kitten. She had lost interest and was more focus on her wine until her mother gasped. The report on the screen was at the scene of a closed road. There had been an unexpected, unexplainable landslide shutting down the whole road. Bulma chugged down the last of her wine.

"Fuckin' Vegeta," she groaned and stood from her seat. She couldn't escape the asshole. Her glass left to be washed and she headed to her room.

The elevator dinged and the door swooshed open. Vegeta stepped out of the elevator to take care of the first order of business, a decent meal. A groan rumbled deep in his throat as he heard the soft hum of music down the hall. One of the humans were up and he'd have to interact. Bracing himself, he walked in and saw no one. He huffed and turned to head to the refrigerator but stopped in his tracks. He frowned and could feel his cheeks heat. Black stockings ran up long shapely legs as the woman bent over in front of the wine fridge underneath the counter. She stood and turned around to face him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He shouldn't be seeing this.

"Oh, Vegeta-kun! I was so worried," Mrs. Briefs cooed. She shuffled over to him and set the bottle of wine on the counter before giving him a thorough inspection. "Well, um, I'm glad you're back in one piece."

"Hn." How could she try to hold a conversation with him in nothing but that black and floral print bodysuit. Such shamelessness. That's most definitely where Bulma got it from.

Her nose scrunched up. "I picked you up some new clothes so they're there for you after you bathe. There's leftovers in the fridge, so eat then get a nice shower. I'm sure you're exhausted from your outing."

"Hn." His hands dug further into the pocket of his hoodie.

"Well, I'll be on my way." She picked up the bottle of wine and two glasses she had set out. "Have a goodnight, Vegeta sweetie. I know I sure will. Be ready for a big breakfast in the morning" She winked and sauntered out of the kitchen, humming something about sexual healing. Vegeta's frown deepened with each clack of Mrs. Briefs' stilettos's on the marble floor. Vulgar Briefs women. Just what exactly had he gotten himself into. He yanked the refrigerator door open in search of his leftovers.

He stopped outside the door. Her door. He could sense her meager ki inside and hear her loud music. He clenched his jaw and slowly opened the door. He had never seen the inside of her room but wasn't surprised to see it was messy. There were clothes scattered about the floor. Hair rollers, magazines, and an overfilled ashtray sprawled along the side of the bed. Stacks of papers and books everywhere. He stepped inside and the woman was so enthralled in whatever it was she doing at her desk she hadn't noticed him. He shut the door loud enough to get her attention. Her head snapped up and in his direction. Her eyes widened then narrowed and his brow arched in anticipation of what she'd do.

"Well look who it is." She rolled her eyes. "What do you want?" He walked around the vast room along the mint colored wall. He studied the firearms that hung on the wall. Then glanced over at the hover bike propped up on a jack. "So you're not going to answer me?" He looked over at her and gave a noncommittal shrug. "So you just fly off somewhere and come back like it's nothing."

He walked over to her work desk. "Needed some fresh air," He smirked. She glared at him and the fire in her eyes made that lightning feeling shoot through his gut.

"You're such an ass!"

He rolled his eyes. That really hurt. He bent over her shoulder to watch her. "What are you doing?" She set a slender, spiral bristled brush down then re-assembled her pistol.

"Just cleaning my baby." She held up the gun. A smirk crept upon her lips as she aimed it directly in between his eyes. "9mm semiautomatic. 15 rounds with a built in silencer." A wicked gleam in her eyes. "Boom. Your brains all of the floor and no one would even hear." His brow rose. "Of course not you, though. You Saiyans are built to last." Her smile morphed into a playful one. "If you fuck with V, he'll put a foot in your ass," she said rhythmically. "It's a song," she explained at his perplexed look. She laughed a little as he went and sat on her bed across the room. Swiveling around in her chair to face him, Bulma crossed her arms over her chest. "So why are you here?"

"I thought you were supposed to be a genius," He smirked.

"Keyword genius, not mind reader." She rose from her seat and sauntered over to the bed. She stepped in between his legs and stood there with her hands on her hips. His hair was a bit damp and the pattern of his hair more defined. The jumpman logo across his chest let her know he had found the new clothes her mother had bought for him. She angled her head to the side and stared down at him. He grabbed her by the hips.

"Oh no." She shook her head and pushed at his shoulder, "Excuse me, Mr. Man but Bulma Briefs does not take too kindly to being left alone in a bed watching you fly off to who knows where."

"Damn it, Woman." He pulled her to him.

A smirk crept to her lips "Had a rough trip? I saw the aftermath of your little tantrum on the news."

He chuckled. "Did you like it? I thought the landslide was a nice touch."

"Asshole." She shook her head. "You can't do stuff like that."

He grunted in response then rested his forehead on her stomach. "Woman."

"You're not going to roll out of bed and jump out the window this time, are you?"

"No."

"Alright then." She took his head into her hands. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his lips. Her fingers working through the kinks and coils of his hair as the kiss deepened, damp and soft to her fingers. She climbed into his lap. He closed his eyes and hissed as her tongue trailed down his neck then nipped at his collarbone. He could feel the upturn of her lips against his skin. "You're not going to make me do all the work again, are you?"

"Shutup," he lifted her into his arms and rolled her over onto her back. Vegeta pulled at the back of his shirt until it was off and over his head.

Her fingers explored curiously, trying to memorize and analyze. For all intents and purposes, he had the body of the god he believed himself to be. She could feel his muscles tremble under her touch. His skin warmer than a human's and marred with scars. "You sexy motherfucker." She looked up at him to see that cocky smirk on his lips. Her heartbeat started to race, pumping fire throughout her body. She needed to feel his skin on her's and the stupid night shirt was in her way. She scrambled and struggled with her nightshirt, only getting it off with Vegeta's help.

"Why don't you ever have undergarments on," he teased, leaning into her like a predator on the hunt.

Her hand ran up his spine stopping at the nape of his neck as she leaned in to meet him halfway. He was just as much her prey. She whispered, "I don't ever wear panties."

"Vulgar woman," he chuckled. He felt that was somehow false advertising, or at the very least irony. She pulled him down crashing her lips into his. "Woman," he pulled back, "I don't want a child."

"Neither do I," she smirked then scurried up the bed. She leaned over and opened the drawer on the nightstand and dug around. Her frustration growing as her hand fumbled around. "Here we go," she held up a square foil packet.

"What is that?" He quirked a brow upward.

"Think of it as battle armor for your dick. No baby. No space clap, though when I went to the doctor it was all clear, so I don't think we have to worry about that." She tugged at his shorts until they were down past that bubble butt that she had been wanting to sink her nails into. He frowned but kicked the shorts off and onto the floor.

"This prevents pregnancy?" He squinted.

"Yea, plus I'm on the pill. This is just to be sure that we're sure. No baby!" She smirked rolling the latex down his length. "Alright, all set." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "Wait." She drew back. "Do you even know what you're doing."

He frowned and glared down at her. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"It's obvious you don't have much experience at this, so I just was wondering."

"Shutup the fuck up." The wicked smirk on her lips only fueled his need to meet her challenge. Damn demon woman.

"This is what you want, right?" She looks up at him and she couldn't deny he was beautiful. Her eyes tracing along his strong jaw to his full lips to high cheek bones. She searched his eyes as they met, such a deep, dark smoldering brown. He nodded his response. "Then take it."

Resting his weight on his elbows before he tested the warmth that drew he back into bed with her. Her fist pounded into his back and she hissed in his ear to stop teasing her, to put his fucking back into it. He snorted a chuckle and closed his eyes. Always barking out orders and this was no different. He didn't need to see her, just feel her. He rested his head on his shoulder. The softness of her body against his hardened muscle. Her warmth, she was warm like the red skies he could remember of Vegetasei. She panted his name like the old war chants he could no longer remember the words to but the cadences were still fresh in his mind. Just for once, he let go. He allowed himself to feel uninhibited.

Vegeta winced at the shrill squeal of his name as he entered the kitchen. He was much too exhausted for this. Mrs. Briefs scurried over to him and he scowled. "Oh Vegeta-kun, you seem tired. Were you up late?"

"Hn." His eyes strayed away to anywhere else around the room. Her daughter made sure he got no sleep the night before.

"Come, come. I'll fix you up some coffee just the way you like." She turned and headed off into the kitchen and he took a seat at the kitchen island. He positioned his chin in his palm and rested his tired eyes. The clink of the coffee mug against the marble top drew his eyes back open. He picked up the mug and inhaled. The steam warmed his skin. He gulped some down then took a deep breath to calm his annoyance. She was staring. Why must they always stare. He set a glare at the older woman.

'What."

"You seem well." She smiled then went about getting breakfast started.

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. He felt well. Sitting back in his seat, he relaxed and drank his coffee. Just this once. It's not like the blonde woman could harm him in any way or would for that matter. She was wrapped around his finger.

Bulma bit her lip and sighed through a smile as she lay in bed recollecting the night before. She could still smell him on her sheets. She could still feel the fire of his kiss. She giggled like a giddy teenage girl. Finally opening her eyes to the new day, she clutched a pillow to her chest. Half of her still couldn't believe that he had come to her, especially after he blew up and disappeared the last time. Yet she couldn't deny the soreness in her muscles that came from a thorough fucking. Rolling out of her bed, she felt like she could take on anything. Even whatever the Prince of all Assholes had to throw at her today because there would surely be something.

Trotting down the stairs, she made her way into the kitchen with a little extra pep in her step. Her mother hummed a tune and she could smell the preparation of breakfast. "Need help Mama?" Her mother turned to her a surprised expression on her face.

"Sure, Bulma dear. Vegeta's back so that calls for a big breakfast."

Bulma turned and looked over at the Saiyan seated at the island. "Oh," a mischievous smirk crept upon her lips, "Good Morning, Vegeta. How are you feeling today?" He huffed and glared at her. She giggled and then turned back to her mother.

Mrs. Briefs slide two cartons down the counter to her daughter, "Could you crack these eggs for me. You can manage that right?"

Vegeta couldn't help but snort out a chuckle. The woman probably couldn't manage that. She turned and glared at him. "Don't gawk at me, Woman. Focus on your task. I don't like eating egg shells," he smirked.

"Yes, dear focus," Mrs. Briefs chimed in. Bulma huffed and opened the carton and spared her mother a glance as Vegeta's named had rolled a little too easily off the tongue and was sang a little too sweetly earlier. She turned to a cabinet and fished out a bowl. "You must have gotten a good night rest to wake up on the good side of the bed this morning," the older woman cooed

"I guess," she shrugged and spared a glance over her shoulder then started cracking the eggs into the bowl.

"It's been so long since we've done this. You were just a little girl and now you're a woman cooking breakfast for your own man."

"What," Bulma squawked. She could faintly hear Vegeta choking on coffee behind her.

"You two have gotten over your little spat, right?" Mrs. Briefs turned to look at Vegeta.

The stool he sat in screeched as he pushed it back and left without another word. Nope. He wasn't doing this. Time to train.

Mrs. Briefs giggled. "He's such a cute, odd young man. Well since our company is gone, why don't you spill?"

"Mama, please! We didn't even-"

"Don't you lie to me, Bulma. I know a morning after glow when I see one. When I saw him last night he looked worse for wear but when came down to my kitchen this morning he had the refreshed glow that only a Briefs woman can give you."

"Ok, ok. Yea, I slept with Vegeta."

"I knew it," she squealed, "It was only a matter of time." Bulma couldn't help but laugh a little. She had always had a very open relationship with her mother. They were more friends than mother and daughter. "So," her mother urged, "I'm a married woman, so I have to live vicariously through you, my dear."

"Mama," she rolled her eyes.

"What BulmaB! A handsome man with a physique like that." She lifted a hand to fan herself. "What a man. If only I were a few years younger."

"As if that would stop you," Bulma couldn't help but laugh.

"Bulma, you're so silly. I do have to keep appearances up," her mother tee-heed "Come on now we've got mouths to feed." Mrs. Briefs turned back to fixing breakfast.

Bulma nodded and started back to crack the eggs. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Mama, you know," she started and sighed. "It's not like that."

"What's not like what, Dear?"

"Vegeta and I. It's not really like that."

"Like what?"

"Well, we're not dating. It's nothing serious, just sex. I don't want you making him uncomfortable, thinking that it's something it's not."

"Of course, Dear." Bulma huffed. Her mother probably didn't get it at all. One ear and out the other with that woman.

Bulma sat on the counter and watched her mother at work. B. B. Homemaker, as she had nicknamed her long ago, was really working wonders. Her mother had tasked her with simple, menial work like cracking eggs and starting the rice cooker; not really trusting her with her other tasks. Bulma was just fine with that, she knew her strengths and weakness and cooking definitely a weakness. Last time she tried to cook, she had managed to overcook the rice, the meat was dry and underseasoned and her side dishes wouldn't even come out the pan. Bulma looked over her shoulder as someone walked into the room. Of course, it was the ever punctual Saiyan Prince.

"Bulma, will you be a dear and take this over to Vegeta," Mrs. Briefs held out a plate piled with rice omelettes all with Vegeta's name written in red. How did that woman do it?

Any other time she would make an indignant riposte about how he could come get it himself but she was feeling generous this fine morning. She spun around to get the plate with a playful pirouette, the ballet classes she took as a kid weren't too bad. "Here you go, Your Highness," she set the plate in front of Vegeta as he had sat down at the table ready for second breakfast then gave a brisk bow. If she had been paying attention she would've heard her mother tittering behind her.

"Hn," he didn't even put effort into keeping the smirk off his face.

"Enjoying your morning," she settled beside him.

"Satisfactory."

"Well, I'm more than satisfied, if you were wondering," She giggled a little as he snorted a chuckle. Her attention was drawn to the entrance as her father entered and kissed her mother good morning. "Good morning daddy," she beamed as he sat across from her. She could see Vegeta shaking his head from the corner of her eyes. She'd take a guess and say he was thinking something along the lines of "shameless woman".

"Ah, Vegeta. I see you're back. How was your trip?"

He nodded in greeting, "Productive."

"Very good."

"Good morning everyone!"

Vegeta looked at the newcomers and groaned. "What's he doing here," he nodded his head towards Yamcha and Puar as they made their way to the table.

"I live here." Yamcha rolled his eyes as he pulled a chair out. Vegeta furrowed his brows and looked to Bulma. She nodded. He looked to Mrs. Briefs because Bulma would lie about it as a joke.

Mrs. Briefs nodded. "Yamcha's returned from his trip too."

"Ugh great, now the place will reek of weakling," Vegeta groaned.

"Don't be like that Vegeta." Bulma shook her head.

"Tch." he glared at Yamcha then turned to his plate deciding the weakling wasn't worth the energy.