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.

A/N: This is a short chappie, and it's mainly "funny", but I do consider it essential for the foundations I'm laying between Bulma and Vegeta. The next chapter will be longer and darker, delving into bits of Vegeta's past again. Hope you'll enjoy, please R/R =)

Chapter 14: A Jar of Pickles

A week had gone by at Capsule Corporation without any significant events. Bulma seemed to have moved past Vegeta's provoking behavior during the cruise, although there'd been a slight increase in the amount of teasing remarks she sent at the man's head.

But all in all, all that did was give the hot-heads something to row about. Something that gave both the spark they needed.

The saiyan prince had gone back to training in the afternoons, with the exception of the days he was too immersed in an argument with the heiress of Capsule Corp. Little did he know today would be one of those exceptions. And it all started out with an innocent request…

"Vegeta, could you open this jar for me? It's stuck."

"No."

Vegeta, who was eating a sandwich on the couch, didn't even bother to look up.

Bulma, her blue hair in a ponytail, wasn't considering giving in that easily.

"Aw c'mon Vegeta, wouldn't you open this jar for me? Pretty please with sugar on top?" she cooed, batting her eyelashes.

"No."

The prince was still refusing to look up; something Bulma Briefs, most important female in existence on earth, didn't take lightly to.

So she shoved the jar of pickles in front of his eyes so he could no longer ignore it.

"Open it."

"No."

"And why not, if I may ask, your majesty?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"I'm not your servant, woman. Find someone else to humor your petty human troubles."

"Not your servant – what the? And I am yours?"

"Of course you are." He looked up at her coldly.

The blue-haired beauty gritted her teeth. 'Of course you are'… the disparaging way in which he dared to utter those words… and the presumption of that man!

"I am not your servant, you arrogant piece of ass!"

"Oh but you are, woman," Vegeta replied, smiling maliciously.

"I am not," she hissed.

"If it helps you to believe otherwise – be my guest – although it won't change the truth."

"It is not 'the truth', Vegeta!" Bulma screamed, throwing the jar of pickles at him.

The glass jar shattered into a thousand pieces with a deafening crash as it hit the saiyan's head. Liquid dripped off his face and the pickles fell onto the floor. He smiled; he had not bothered to evade or deflect the jar. He'd wanted to impress the simple fact of how utterly untouchable he was to the woman. He smirked.

"Would you look at that – you opened it all by yourself."

Bulma's face was reddening.

"You could have caught the jar, you bastard."

"Oh I could, but that seemed unbefitting. You would've had your way."

"What the fuck is the problem with opening a stupid jar for a lady?! How much do I ever ask of you? I'm giving you a place to live and all the food you could ever dream of for crying out loud!"

"My point exactly – you're my servant. Now get me some more of your mother's sandwiches, woman – I'm hungry."

"You – you… There are just no words for how disgusting you are!"

"Aren't there?"

It was obvious that it was the saiyan prince who was in charge of this argument and not the human heiress, no matter how this displeased her.

"I am not playing this game with you, you asshole. I'm more sophisticated than that."

"You are – so sophisticated that you can't bring yourself to go to those aristocratic meetings your father wants you to accompany him to and so sophisticated that you walk around screaming and jumping around most of the time. Talk about 'refined'."

Bulma's temper got the best of her as she mindlessly started punching on Vegeta's abdomen through the open hole in his armor left there by Krillin. She left an imprint on the red carpet as she charged him and kept punching even though she could see he wasn't even forced an inch further into the purple couch her mom loved so much.

"So much sophistication. I see it now," the prince said sardonically.

She stopped. "Fine," she started, "but this doesn't change that I am not and will never be –", she eyed him for impact, "YOUR BLOODY SERVANT!"

"I can hear you just fine, woman. No reason to yell. Just get me those damned sandwiches."

"NO" she screamed, livid. Vegeta smiled as she stormed out of the room. Too easy…

"Mom, you are not getting Vegeta any more sandwiches today! He's had enough," Bulma greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen.

"But why, sweetie? What if he's hungry?"

"I don't care if he's hungry; he's impolite and he's taking both you and me for granted! He's walking all over us with his royal attitude, mom. We shouldn't be letting him order us around; we should be making a stand!"

"Oh I don't know, honey. I don't really mind; and a man can't possibly cook for himself!"

Bulma's jaw dropped. "You don't seriously mean that, do you?"

"Why wouldn't I? Aren't you being a little ungrateful, Bulma? I mean he did save you all from those horrible monsters on that faraway planet. That poor man has to have endured many hardships – and he still stands so proudly," she blinked a tear away.

"He didn't – he – oh never mind.. Sometimes there's just no arguing with you! Ugh.. do you have any cookies? I feel awful."

"Sure I have cookies. Here you go, sweetie. Is it that time of the month already?"

"Mo-hom!"

Bunny giggled as her daughter snatched the cookies out of her hand and stormed off. Sometimes she was still a teenager…

Just as Bulma was about to exit the compound, Vegeta appeared in front of her. He had his arms crossed and he was smirking.

"Where do you think you're going, servant? I don't believe I've gotten my sandwiches yet."

The Nameks' hostess looked at the prince with fire in her bright blue eyes.

"I'm going into the city to get away from the likes of you."

The spiky-haired man started moving forwards until the lank-haired woman stood with her back against the spaceship that read 'Capsule 3' in bold, black letters with a smaller 'Corp.' below it.

"You can after finishing your task."

Blind with anger, Bulma attempted to slap him. Before her hand could reach his cheek, however, he had his fingers tightly wrapped around her wrist, applying an increasing amount of pressure every second.

Vegeta looked feral somehow and this sudden act allowed a hint of fear to flash in the overwhelming blue depths that were Bulma's eyes. But it vanished as soon as it had come.

"Let me go. I know this game's been a lot of fun for you – but this is where I draw my line. It's not funny anymore – not to me anyway – and you're going to have to respect that."

Even with her wrist captured in his grasp, she looked like a fierce force in front of the alien man that stood before her. The independent Bulma Briefs of earth's Capsule Corporation who needed no-one.

The saiyan prince seemed to consider her. The problem was that this argument had started to run away with him – and that he was inadvertently endangering his pride. If he yielded, he'd admit she had a hold over him. Without words he'd be saying he respected her, maybe even cared for her – he'd be saying he was becoming one of them. An earthling, a good guy; someone that belonged here. He didn't. He didn't belong anywhere.

After several minutes, he let her go. He'd noticed he was hurting her – actually hurting her – and the confusing emotions that left him with rendered him helpless. But he couldn't leave this unfixed. He couldn't leave anyone on this planet with strange illusions about who he was, what he stood for, what he could do, and what he eventually would.

"I can kill you; anytime I want."

"You've impressed that, thank you very much."

Bulma was rubbing her sore wrist, gluing him to the spot with a death-glare.

Vegeta gritted his teeth. The prince of all saiyans allowing a female earthling with a power-level of not even five to put boundaries on him?
He'd diminished entire galaxies, was feared in every region of the old Cold Empire, had crushed the life of millions with his bare hands… yet he couldn't resist her.

But then again – he'd grudgingly allowed Kakarot to put boundaries on him as well. But things were different – the younger saiyan had been stronger than him. If Kakarot would have desired it, the low-class could have crushed him. Even though he chose not to, Vegeta had constantly felt that difference in strength when in his presence on Namek. And then there was the woman – a frail creature who didn't even compare to stronger members of her own race.

"What makes you so sure I won't kill you right now?"

Bulma smirked cheekily.

"This little chat about it beforehand?"

The prince's features hardened and he took a step towards her – something mental glowing in the charcoal of his eyes. Bulma just giggled and rolled her eyes, impatient as if she were dealing with an overgrown child.

"No, in all seriousness? You won't. You obviously want Goku here, and for that, you need the dragonballs regenerated. If you do anything to harm me, the Nameks or other people around – you risk missing out on that chance. Besides, you love it here – you're just too shy to say it."

Vegeta snorted – he was smiling again.

"Yeah right. Dream on, woman."

Bulma winked. She'd managed to break through the barrier the prince had created around himself. The tension between them had lifted.

She turned, facing the house again.

"Come on Vegeta, let's get something to eat."

Vegeta was stunned. How was such a volatile creature ever even allowed to exist?

"I thought you said you aren't my servant?"

"And so I'm not. But you have to humor you, sometimes."

The prince actually bit his tongue at that one, and then presumed to growl. The presumption of that woman! But even though he crossed his arms and scowled, he followed anyway.