The sun streaming in through the hospital room window laid directly across Vegeta's closed eyelids. The migraine once forgotten in an IV drug induced sleep began to slither its way back into consciousness, and foggily, Vegeta cracked his right eye open.

Fuck.

This felt like the worst hangover of his life.

He groaned, the one open eye looking towards Bulma's chair. The heart monitor sounded loudly when Vegeta realized it was now empty. She wasn't here, where had she gone? There was mention of her leaving when he fell asleep but he thought-

"Morning sleepy head!"

Both eyes open wide now, Vegeta's blips on the monitor lessened as Bulma came in from the hallway, two takeaway cups of coffee in hand, "I thought you would appreciate some caffeine. God knows I needed it, those chairs are uncomfortable."

"You stayed?" He asked, or well, barked really.

Bulma regarded him, head lilting to one side, "Yeeeees... I fell asleep pretty soon after you did."

"Oh." Vegeta's cheeks went hot, fists bunching in the sheets, "Okay."

"Were you worried I left?" She teased, her eyes sparkling with something mischievous as she handed him his cup.

Grumbling, Vegeta sipped at his coffee. It was extra-hot cafeteria garbage, but it would do. "No," he finally said. But the way he stared at her up through his lashes made Bulma's heart race just a bit.

"I think you're lying," she smirked, settling back in her chair.

"Mpf." Vegeta took another drink.

"Did you know you sleep talk?"

A spurt of coffee shot from Vegeta's lips, almost reaching the foot of the bed. Bulma squealed, recoiling as far as she could away from any spray. Vegeta looked at her in horror, "What did I say?!"

Bulma blushed.

Oh shit.

She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes, "Don't worry doofus, it wasn't anything bad. You're intense even when you sleep. It was mostly a bunch of meat head gym talk."

"...mostly?" Vegeta hissed, "What else?"

Bulma shrugged, sipping at her own coffee, "Gibberish I think. Just random words strung together."

The blush was still on her cheeks, so Vegeta knew she was lying, "If I... said anything offensive...I apologize." He muttered, arms crossing.

"Naw," she patted his tense forearm, "I promise. It was just some random words." Her touch on his tan skin was warm, comforting. The primal section of his brain, normally so well hidden under his stony exterior was growling to life; wondering how her entire naked body would feel pressed tightly against his in this cramped hospital bed-

"Well young man, are you ready to go home?" Came an overly chipper voice from the doorway.

Well, damnit.

The same doctor who had interrupted them yesterday smiled warmly at Bulma, "Good morning my dear! Did you sleep well?"

Bulma shot a meaningful glance at Vegeta, playful smile on her lips, "As well as I could with Mr. Sleep Talker here."

Vegeta groaned.

Chuckling, the doctor passed Vegeta a clipboard, "Here you are son, just a few signatures and you're out of here. Take care of him, alright Miss Briefs?" He winked.

"Of course!" Bulma chirped, standing and clapping her hands together, "I'm going to call and get one of my drivers here right away! Thank you for taking good care of him sir!" She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket, already dialing as she stepped out of the room.

The two men watched her leave in silence. With a few pen scrawls, Vegeta signed his name and held out the clipboard to the doctor, "Here."

Slowly, the doctor turned back to him. And the look he gave Vegeta made his blood run cold. But as quickly as the look was there, it was gone. The doctor smiled, taking the clipboard from Vegeta's now sweaty hand, "Thanks young man. I'll send the nurse up to get everything unhooked and you'll be on your way in no time."

Vegeta's dark brows knitted together as the doctor waved over his shoulder and was gone.

"Woman, for Christs' sake I don't need a wheelchair!"

"You have a fractured pelvis! Yes you do!" Bulma insisted, pushing the chair closer to the bed, "The doctor said you needed your rest! And even if it kills you, I'm going to make sure you get all the rest you need!"

He scoffed, "I think you said that wrong."

"Oh, did I?" Bulma challenged, "Try me."

How he couldn't refuse her, Vegeta would never know. But as the wheelchair bearings squealed in agony as he was slowly pushed downstairs all he wanted to do was be unconscious again. Out of every Goddamn wheelchair in the entire hospital, how did he wind up in the one with the death scream? It felt like brain-stabbing hours, but eventually they made it outside and to the taxi ready to take Vegeta home. He shakily pushed himself up, definitely unsteadier than he was used to. There was a firm grip on his elbow, and he shot a glare at Bulma who was trying to assist him, "I'm fine." He growled.

But Bulma's eyes were gentler than he expected them to be, "Please," She said, "let me feel helpful."

He sighed, but didn't shake her off.

From several stories up, blue eyes watched as his now former patient was loaded up by the air headed woman. The doctor pulled out his cell phone, went to recent calls, and dialed a number. It picked up on the third ring:

"Ah, Dr. Gero," drawled a high pitch male voice, "he's been released I take it? Is the woman with him?"

"Yes Frieza," Dr. Gero said, "I've taken copies of his records. We have his address."

A chuckle from the other side of the phone, "Excellent. Pass it on to the kids. Nice work."

The call ended with a click, and Dr. Gero watched the taxi pull away. He really did like the Briefs woman. It was just a pity she kept such poor company. But, business was business. Vegeta had to be punished, and in turn, so did she.

Lapis and Lazuli would at least be entertained.