Puff …. Puff ….

On a relieved exhale, Bulma pushed herself into an upright position by her flat palms, her spine bending back into place with a satisfied twinge tingling through her muscles at the calming exertion. Upon lifting herself from Downward Facing Dog, however, she found herself facing a different sort of beast.

"Vegeta!" She breathed in surprise, a small smile beginning to brighten her features despite the strikingly awkward way he was eyeing her. "What're you doing? I thought you'd be out training."

"…What the hell were you just doing, onna?"

It wasn't often that she found him outright amusing; Vegeta was very seldom intentionally funny, and she usually wondered if he truly had any understanding of humor. However, the absolutely perplexed way that he was looking upon her now had Bulma's aching abs rioting against the giggles she felt stirring low. Smiling as politely as possible, she swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, dispersing the beads of sweat at her hairline, and her lips spread further as she noticed his strict attention.

"Yoga," she answered simply after another soothing intake of breath. Wordlessly, she gestured toward the kitchen with the empty water bottle she collected from the coffee table, though as she made to pass by him, his larger hand enveloped her forearm abruptly. With a scowl, Bulma pushed at his offending appendage. "Hey! What did we say about grabbing?"

Yet the Saiyan was suddenly inspecting her as he had when he had initially come to stay at her home, and nostalgia immediately struck her. That speculative, disdainful curiosity – like he wanted to ask, but had too much pride to lower hismelf to do such a thing. Many times before, she could find him leering over her shoulder as she worked on his gravitational machine, or intently taking in every movement she made to fix his first-ever helping of scrambled eggs. All the while silent, all the while trying to figure it out on his own.

Admittedly very endearing, albeit it often left her impatient and agitated. Yet that was then. Bulma's world now was filled to brimming with 'whys' and 'hows' courtesy of her inquisitive toddler and Vegeta's silent query proved to be rather refreshing. It was a gentler tug that Bulma gave from his grasp, a nod directed once more to the kitchen.

Thankfully, he released her, following her with quiet footsteps right up to the kitchen sink where she refilled her bottle. The pressure of his gaze behind her sent simultaneous waves of annoyance and something of a completely different nature washing over her, and Bulma peeked over her shoulder to spy him staring carefully at the back of her head. "Yoga," she repeated and turned, replacing the cap on her bottle. "It's a form of exercise. You've never heard of it?"

His silence was her answer, and Bulma bowed her head in understanding and her right shoulder rose and fell. "I kind of doubted you would. I don't think the Saiyans would have valued such a method."

Vegeta's brow twitched downward, the scowl returned to his forehead. "And that is supposed to mean what, exactly?"

"It wasn't an insult," Bulma backpedaled with a roll of her azure eyes. "Yoga's more meant to maintain a healthy body, muscle toning, and to help with flexibility and balance. It's not meant for fighting."

"Sounds useless," Vegeta grumbled. Yet Bulma's keen awareness of this man and all that he was comprised of told her that he still held a mild level of interest. "What were you doing it for? I've never seen you physically exert yourself, and you certainly possess none of those attributes, onna."

She stifled a snort of aggravation. Bulma's arms came up immediately to wrap over her expansive chest – it was a protected stance, and he knew it. "First of all, fuck you, Vegeta," she growled, that common vein throbbing behind her temple as his smirk slid into place, "and second of all, I never really needed to exercise. God graced me with a naturally gorgeous physique." While her conceit shined through, it was in a fraction of a second that it was gone again, and Bulma rested her hands upon her much fuller hips. "However, I also never had a post-baby body, thus leading me to certain … adjustments."

Her self-consciousness was as obvious as her beauty, and it endlessly bothered him to endure either of those things. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed the woman had filled out a bit, but more that wasn't it expected? As she had said, she had given birth. And it was not an altogether displeasing change, Vegeta considered with appreciation as he assessed her (if possible) more ample figure. "You're as unattractive as ever, onna," he allowed with a derisive snicker at her reddening features. "I see little change in your liberal girth."

Bulma's mouth fell open in horror at his teasing words, and rage quickly tore into her veins and flashed behind her baby blues as she violently chucked the liter of water at the spiky up-do across from her. Easily, Vegeta canted his head, and the bottle sailed past his ear to connect with the refrigerator. "You swine," she seethed, before brushing quickly past the chortling, chiseled bane of her existence.

Much to her frustration, it seemed as though Vegeta had not finished with her yet. His smugness still present over his features, the prince chose a comfortable position against the doorframe as Bulma fluttered about the room and returned to her Yoga mat. His presence ricocheted anger and fury all about her being, and she snapped her head up immediately to face him as something crystallized in her mind. "You should feel lucky that I let you fuck me, you know that?"

"You 'let me'?" Vegeta all but laughed around the words, his charcoal eyes dancing with mischief – and a hint of curiosity, as Bulma began to settle back down on the floor. "Interesting assumption, onna."

"That's not an assumption," Bulma continued blithely as she reclined on the floor, her knees drawn up and her feet planted firmly to her mat. With a gentle inhale, Bulma's torso slowly began to rise, creating an arch from her hips to her shoulders pressed against the ground as her feminine qualities protruded upward.

Despite his better senses telling him to sneer and turn away in disgust, Vegeta remained fixated on her vaulted form, taking in all that this 'yoga' position leant to his esteem.

Bulma tilted her head up a bit to spy his obserations from above her knees, and she couldn't fight the grin that pushed past her teeth and settled itself pleasingly in her stomach. "That's a fact."

Author's Note: I love confident Bulma, her vanity is such a funny part of the show sometimes. Now, we all know Vegeta would try to bring her down - but I know better! Bulma's a resilient little firecracker, and she certainly wouldn't take it lying down! ... Except, y'know, in this case. ;) I don't know what made me think of Vegeta watching Bulma do yoga, but I figure it'd be pretty interesting for him, at least.

I think I may later do a little chapter where she's trying to teach him yoga. We'll see. ;)

Thanks for all your reviews, by the way! I really, really appreciate your feedback!