A/N: I've been struggling a little with my writing lately, got some writer's block and lack of inspiration, so I decided to work on something fresh to keep the creative energy going. I've already written the next three chapters of this so it's definitely given me a jump start! Everyone is human here, fyi.

This is meant to be a silly lighthearted kind of thing, like a romcom fic. That said, humor is pretty subjective so if you enjoy, please leave some love to let me know! Appreciate y'all!

I don't own anything nor do I make any profit, I just love these characters and love to write :) hope you enjoy.

In hindsight, this was really all Goku's fault.

Bulma had been living her best life up until a few weeks ago. Her relationship with Yamcha was the best it had been in months – in fact, she was sure he would be proposing soon. Her job was firing on all cylinders as she worked hard to make a name for herself outside of her father's company, crushing every project sent her way like the amazing genius that she was. At the rate she was going, she'd be running the damn place in no time. Her social life was great, especially with her best friend Goku living in the apartment next door, which naturally had his girlfriend Chi-Chi visiting often. All was right with the world, the stars were aligned, and she was happy.

Then Goku – the jerk – had decided to move out so he could go live with his girlfriend. That had been the first wrench thrown into her perfect life, losing him as a neighbor and also unconsciously reminding her that Yamcha was opposed to them living together right now.

But this was not Goku's ultimate sin. No, the real catastrophe had been when Goku, in all of his wisdom, had decided to sublet his apartment for the remainder of his lease to "one of his best friends", a fellow security guard named Vegeta. Bulma questioned the friendship because she had never heard of the man until Goku sprang this bullshit on her one awful day. She thought she had known all his friends, but apparently Goku had coworkers that mingled in their own social circles. That was well and good, as she assumed she would like this new friend.

And then Vegeta had moved in next door, taking over Goku's apartment, and everything had gone to shit.

Firstly, because Goku (and by extension Chi-Chi) were no longer around all the time to easily come over and spend time with her while Yamcha was away with his baseball team, which he often was.

But secondly, her new neighbor was a complete asshole. Grade A, certified, 100%, bonafide asshole.

Oh, Bulma had tried to be civil at first. She was a model citizen, and prided herself on being amazing in all areas of her life, to include being a fantastic friend and an even better neighbor. She was thoughtful, she was considerate, she was just the fucking best and everyone was privileged to know her. So when Vegeta had settled into the apartment next door with all his belongings, she had given him a few days to unpack and get situated, and then had come over to introduce herself. She had even baked him a small chocolate cake, with sprinkles and a "hello neighbor!" in wonderful icing penmanship.

And he had ignored her completely. At first she thought he wasn't home, so she had left the chocolate cake right outside his door, covered up and protected in tupperware, along with a welcome note. Bulma then happily went back to her apartment and closed the door behind her – only to hear Vegeta quickly open and close the door to his own apartment. Bulma had poked her head back out, saw that the chocolate cake was gone, and scowled. She rationalized it away, giving him the benefit of the doubt due to his friendship with Goku – maybe he was just tired and wasn't up for company. But when she had crossed paths with him the next day on the stairs, he hadn't even looked at her, much less bothered to thank her for the cake.

The bastard had been on her shit list ever since.

But then things had gone from bad to worse when the laundry war had started.

Bulma was a creature of habit. She was also a creature of procrastination. Moving away from her family's compound, spreading her wings to make her name on her own merit in the technical industry without her father's company to fall back on, had all been well and good; she was well aware though that she had grown up wealthy, privileged, and somewhat spoiled.

Okay, a lot spoiled. The day-to-day chores were a grind that she was still not entirely used to doing on her own, and thus were always put off to the last possible moment. She kept up well enough with the laundry, but she always did it Sunday night in preparation for the work week, when no one else in the apartment building used the shared washing and drying machines.

Until Asshole Neighbor moved in, that is. Apparently, Vegeta was also a creature of habit, and his preferred laundry day and time was also Sunday night, roughly around 11pm – same as her. The apartment complex was nice and simple, in a safe neighborhood, but there were only two washing machines and two drying machines in each building. These numbers were usually fine as there were only 6 apartments in the building, two on each floor, but one washing machine and one dryer had not worked in the two years Bulma had lived in her top floor apartment. Management was lazy, and though she had the money to spring for the repairs, the machines had never posed a problem before. So why bother?

The first week after Vegeta had moved in, he had beaten her to the laundry room, baffling her endlessly – was he purposely annoying her? Who else did laundry on Sunday nights except her? Then to rub salt in the wounds, he had chosen a drying cycle for THREE HOURS, thus making her stay up into the wee hours of the morning to get her laundry done afterwards (for she was not a savage who would interrupt someone else's drying cycle). Bulma had been beyond annoyed, but she had taken her licks and learned a lesson.

The following week, she had gone down to the laundry room half an hour earlier than usual at 10:30pm, and was pleased that she had gotten to the room first. She threw in her clothes for the wash, and then had gone back upstairs to continue watching her sitcom on TV. Too quickly, Bulma forgot about the laundry – when she remembered, it was already past midnight.

She then went back downstairs to throw her clothes into the dryer, only to discover the first act of war that Vegeta had launched against her. The asshole had taken her wet clothes out of the washing machine and left them on a side table, still drenched, so he could wash his own clothes. His were now tumbling in the dryer while hers sat in wet misery, the colors probably already smearing.

Though the dryer was not designed to stop mid-cycle, she was a genius, and this was fucking war now. Bulma had crawled behind the dryer and found the right connections to force the cycle to stop, and then had thrown Vegeta's mostly-wet clothes on the table next to hers. Then she put her poor clothes in and ran the dryer again from the beginning, and gone back to her apartment.

This time, Vegeta didn't ignore her the next day when they walked past each other, him coming upstairs from his morning run and her going downstairs to work. If looks could kill, they both would have needed eulogies as they stared each other down. No words were spoken, just silent and simmering anger, for the laundry war had begun and it would be waged again the following Sunday night.

Though she had to give it to him. Vegeta ran religiously in the mornings, and that morning he was in a tank top that was soaked in his sweat, and fucking hell, those tanned, muscled arms of his were almost worth her moving her laundry time to a different time. Almost. Sexy arms or no, she would not be bullied out of her Sunday laundry nights.

"How is Goku friends with that guy?" Bulma groaned to Chi-Chi over a hot cup of coffee the following Sunday at the café near Goku and Chi-Chi's apartment. "I baked him a cake – I BAKED IT, Chi-Chi! And he didn't even have the decency to say thanks, hell, he hasn't even given me back the tupperware that held the cake!"

Chi-Chi just laughed, adding more sugar into her cappuccino. "Yeah, that's Vegeta for you."

"And then don't EVEN get me started on the laundry thing."

"You could always do your laundry earlier?"

"No! Why should I? I've been doing it Sunday nights since I moved in, I have dibs. I won't give in to that jerk."

Chi-Chi shook her head, fighting a smile as she raised her hot cup up to her lips. "Well, I'll be sure to tell Goku that Vegeta is getting along great with his new neighbors."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who has tried talking to him, he doesn't make himself very approachable," Bulma muttered, sipping her coffee. She paused before scowling as she added, "Also, he's always walking around in a tank top," she said in annoyance.

"What's the issue with that?"

"Those arms are the issue!" Bulma growled. "He's showing off, forcing me to look at him. There are even mornings when I've glimpsed him leave shirtless for his runs."

Chi-Chi laughed. "Or it's summer time? I'm not the guy's biggest fan, but it's pretty hot outside these days."

"Don't defend him, Chi."

"I will admit, he's not terrible looking. Goku's coworkers all keep in great shape. Also, I don't know him very well, Goku usually went to his place to visit him or they would go to the gym together. Goku did say though that he thought you would get along well with Vegeta if you got to know him."

"I love Goku, but he's got me mistaken for someone else if he thinks I'm getting along with that jerk next door."

"Well, at least Yamcha is in town from what Goku was telling me, so at least he can distract you in a good way!"

At her boyfriend's name, Bulma perked up a bit. "Yes, my birthday is this week, and I'm sure he's planning something amazing!" she dreamily said, finally forgetting about her surly neighbor. "I'm also sure he's going to propose soon. This is the longest we've gone without a fight. I think we have finally settled down with each other…took long enough, fourteen whole years."

"A proposal soon huh?" Chi-Chi asked excitedly. "I'm feeling the same way about Goku. Maybe we'll be engaged at the same time!"

"Yeah, then we can have a joint bachelorette party!" Bulma said with a wide smile. She looked down when her phone buzzed, taking it out for a quick glance. "Ah, I have to run, Yamcha's done with the gym and he's coming over. We have to spend good time together before he leaves in a few days for his next out-of-town games."

"Have fun!"

Bulma was giggling later that night, her boyfriend rolling on top of her so he wouldn't break contact with her skin as he continued kissing her along her collarbone and down to her breasts. Bulma leaned her head back to give him better access, a look of content on her face as he worshipped her like the goddess she was. The sex between them wasn't rock-your-world quality, but sex was like pizza – even when it wasn't great, it was still good, and she was just fine with Yamcha in the same way one could avoid starving by eating above-average pizza. Though she did wish he was a little more assertive and took charge more often, she figured there was more than enough time ahead of them in their lives to improve things in the bedroom.

She licked her lips a little when she felt Yamcha's erection against her thigh – now things were finally getting good – when her eyes drifted to the clock next to her bed. Her blue eyes widened as she abruptly sat up, damn near sending Yamcha tumbling backwards off the bed entirely.

"Bulma?" he asked in confusion, sitting up on the bed. His confusion became bewilderment as Bulma got up and quickly slipped on a bra, then the nearest shirt she could find. Getting dressed fast was easy for her after all, as her pants hadn't even been removed yet. "What's wrong?"

"It's 10pm!" Bulma shot back, with so much assertiveness that she may as well have been answering what the meaning of life was. Yamcha couldn't get another word out before she snatched up her hamper filled with dirty clothes, threw some socks on the floor in there, and then vanished from the bedroom. A few seconds later, and he heard the door to her apartment open and close.

Bulma marched down the stairs with her hamper like she was going to war, before finally coming down to the ground level. She swiped her fob quickly and entered the laundry room, eager to win the battle this week.

She was greeted by the sight of her archnemesis sitting on the drying machine that was already running, arms crossed over his chest. Vegeta's dark eyes were challenging as they settled on her, making her huff with annoyance. This was the first time she was getting a really good look at him, not just in passing, and she was annoyed that the bastard had the audacity to be so attractive. Why were the assholes always the super hot ones? At least he was in a long sleeved shirt this time, covering up those arms for once. Still, that jawline and that form-fitting v-neck shirt had her feeling some kind of way.

"This machine is already in use," he sneered. Bulma felt her annoyance worsen when she finally heard his voice for the first time. It was rough and gravelly – if there was a higher power, then they had a shit sense of humor to give an asshole like him such a nice, manly voice.

She dropped her hamper, and lifted her chin. "Oh, so you have a voice after all. You should have used it to let me know that my clothes were done washing last week, instead of taking them out while they were still wet."

Vegeta shrugged in a way that showed he couldn't care less, making her blood pressure rise. "I needed mine done. I waited over an hour for you to come take them out of the washing machine, and when you didn't, I had no choice but to take action. I didn't even know they were your clothes, though I guessed as much by the obnoxious shirts with your name on it. You have no one to blame for this situation but yourself."

"I will have you know that I've been doing laundry at this time on Sunday nights since I moved here!" Bulma yelled in frustration. "So find another time! Sunday night is mine!"

Vegeta scoffed, unfazed. "Oh? Is there a schedule I wasn't informed of?"

"You're new here, you don't get to just walk in and be king of the laundry room!"

"You aren't very welcoming, are you?"

Bulma gasped, eyes widening from his audacity. "Oh no you don't! You lost the moral high ground, buddy, when you took out my wet clothes and left them on the table, like you were raised in the fucking jungle! After I baked you a welcome cake too!"

"The cake was from you?" Vegeta asked, raising an eyebrow. It made him look even more attractive, which just pissed her off more. Why was the universe so fucking unfair? Her boyfriend was waiting for her in her apartment, naked and ready to roll, and instead of being with him, she was here in the laundry room with her jackass of a neighbor. Not only that, but he was effortlessly pleasing to her dumb primal woman brain. Fucking hell, she hated Goku for this. "There was no name on the note, so how was I supposed to know?" Vegeta added, scowling at her.

Bulma huffed, annoyed and embarrassed that she had forgotten such a simple detail. "Well, maybe I'll forgive you then for not bringing me back my tupperware, especially after I gave you a kickass, delicious cake."

"Well, the cake wasn't complete shit, though it was a bit too sweet," he deadpanned.

Bulma looked offended, practically glowering at him when it was clear that was all he was going to say. Not a thanks in sight. Typical.

"You're welcome, jerk. I want my tupperware back, and I want you to find another time to wash your clothes, because this time is mine."

"Sorry, this is the best time for me," he explained with a shrug. "I read over the lease carefully, and the laundry room is first-come, first-serve. You don't own the building, much less the complex, so I don't owe you any explanation."

I'm going to buy this whole fucking apartment complex just to show this asshole who's boss, Bulma briefly thought, her blue eyes blazing. She refrained from doing so, though it took effort. Self-control was a lifelong pursuit for her, but she was trying not to buy her way out of every problem in life. Oh, but it would be so delicious to rid the arrogance right off her turd neighbor's face.

As though he could read her mind, the smug look on Vegeta's face just grew, and Bulma felt the urge to punch something. Her eyes lowered down to the drying machine he was sitting on – the cycle had just barely started, and of course, was set for a three hour cycle.

"Three hours is fucking ridiculous for a drying machine," she informed him.

Another maddening shrug. "I didn't design it."

"You also didn't have to choose the three hour drying cycle! There is an option for one hour too!"

"I like my clothes hot," he said, his tone condescending.

Bulma snatched up her hamper, shooting him one last glare. "I don't know how Goku puts up with you, but this isn't over," she tossed over her shoulder as she strolled out of the room. The door was closing and she was already stomping back upstairs when she yelled out, "And I want my tupperware back!"

The door clicked shut, and Vegeta pulled out his cell phone while listening to her march back up the stairs. He texted Goku, scowling as he did.

My new neighbor, your "friend", is a huge pain in the ass.

A couple minutes later, he got a ping back.

Aw, Bulma is so great and nice! You'll love her once you get to know her :)

She's spoiled as shit, entitled, and insufferable.

Hehe, I'm sure you'll warm up to her!

Vegeta rolled his eyes over his friend's infuriating and eternal optimism, not bothering to respond to that. It was clear the woman couldn't stand him, but he was not going to lose any sleep over it. The feeling thus far was mutual after all, and petty as the laundry situation was, he was not going to give in. She could feel however she felt about that.

He wound up staying in the laundry room until the drying cycle was done – just to make sure she didn't pull any shit if he stepped away. However, when he went back upstairs and entered his apartment with his now dried (and folded) clean clothes, he felt a vein on his temple pulse when he heard rhythmic pounding. It seemed Bulma's boyfriend had her well occupied, and he rolled his eyes when he heard moans as soon as he entered his bedroom. Their apartments were mirror images of each other, which meant that his bedroom was right against Bulma's, much to his chagrin. With the thin walls, it was a fucking nightmare.

Fifteen minutes later, and Vegeta was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as he heard the raunchy noises in the apartment next door. He put in some earbuds, playing some white noise on his cell phone, but still couldn't fully drown it out. Goku hadn't told him about this bullshit, but he had to find a way to deal with it; this location was perfect for him and he was saving lots of money by living there.

Plus, to move out would mean surrendering, and it would be a cold day in hell before he ever fucking surrendered, much less to his annoying ass neighbor. He frowned up at the ceiling, when an idea for how to make this stop occurred to him.

Reaching over to his nightstand, he picked up a pen and jotted down – I know what a woman having an orgasm sounds like, and it doesn't sound like that, so I give your boyfriend a 4 out of 10 since you had to fake it.

Tearing the note off the notepad, Vegeta got up so he could go tape it on Bulma's door, making sure to leave the tupperware at her door too. After all, despite what she thought of him, he wasn't a total dick.

Thankfully (and unsurprisingly) the sex next door was over by the time he got back in bed. With everything quiet, he was soon falling asleep, with a small grin of satisfaction as he imagined how she'd respond to reading his note.

Moving into Goku's old apartment hadn't been what he imagined, but at least it wasn't boring.