"You look like shit," she says, glancing up from her calculations and noticing him limping past her without a word.

He's in a lot of pain. But somehow she can sense it's more than that.

She can tell because he remains silent as he sits at the kitchen table, her quip having gone unchallenged. His forehead creases with tension and his eyes closed. He clutches his forearm tightly, his breathing noticeably strained. An air of gloom appears to emanate from him, as though something heavy were weighing his mind. She almost feels sympathetic towards him as she observes his sorry state.

"Vegeta," she calls. It isn't particularly uncommon for him to get injured in his training. However, this time he must have really done a number on his body.

His eyes open. "What?" he rasps.

"Let me see." She looks at him in a way that brooks no argument. No doubt he's been pushing the GR and the bots to their limits again.

"It's nothing that should concern you," he protests, short of breath. He must have also taken damage to his ribs. "It'll heal. I've had far worse."

With that she could agree, taking note of the various scars littering his chest. It didn't mean she would buy any of his bullshit about being okay.

A large bruise is forming over his ribcage, confirming her suspicion that he broke some of his ribs. His arm is likely injured—at the very least a hairline fracture. No doubt he blocked a bot directly without the use of his ki again, probably because she yelled at him about being more frugal with the bots. There are cuts and bruises on his legs save for his face, where there is only a small cut on his left cheek.

"We both know this will be easier if you just let me patch you up," she says sharply. "Your pride won't heal your wounds, asshat— at least not the physical ones."

"Leave me-" He coughs and winces.

Bulma is not the type to keep away. "Give me your arm at least, you idiot. I know what I'm doing."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a capsule. Vegeta watched with restrained curiosity as it poofed on the ground and a first aid kit appeared.

"Fixing tech isn't my only specialty after years of hanging out with other knuckleheads that get off being beaten to a pulp."

"I don't require your help."

Even if he were wheezing and dying in a pool of his own blood, he'd still turn down her help. Arrogant bastard.

"I also specialize in not giving a fuck," she snaps. "Now are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?"

"Fine then! Do as you deem fit if you're so concerned and then leave me the hell alone."

"I will," she huffs. She knelt down and opened the first aid kit, riffling through it until she found a sling to hold his arm. She pulled out rubbing alcohol and cotton balls.

"Tch. What primitive medical equipment you earthlings have. It's a wonder you wield the tech for space travel."

She grabs his injured arm delicately and motioned for him to release his hold. He lets out a pained breath as he did. Bulma gasped. His skin is singed and his arm is twisted at an unnatural angle.

"It's bent."

He laughs sardonically. "Are you regretting offering your assistance now?"

"No." Her eyes narrow with resolve. "I'll just need to straighten it and put on a destabilizer until I can get you a senzu bean. It looks like you fractured your ulna."

"Very well," he agrees, nodding. He braces himself, his chin tensing.

She held his arm out and readied herself. "So what do you have out there for this kind of stuff, tough guy?"

"What?" He asks, momentarily distracted.

"This ingenious medical technology you keep gloating about."

"Regeneration tanks. They can bring almost anyone back from the brink of dea-" He grunts in surprise as she straightens his limb dexterously without warning.

Clever girl.

She grins, snatching the splint she had set aside and pressing it up against the underside of his arm. "You were saying?"

He chuckles genuinely for the first time. "I'll give you credit, woman. I wasn't expecting that."

"There's a lot you still don't expect from me." A soft giggle escapes her as she commits his smile to memory. She's never noticed before, but when he laughs his cheeks form dimples. It's...cute.

"I suppose you're right," he comments after a pause. "You're far less dainty than you appear."

He watches her clean the wound on his arm with alcohol impassively, the stinging barely even skirting his threshold for pain tolerance. What was a little sting and a few broken bones to him anyway when his body had been utilized to carve the very landscape of Namek by his oppressor? She would have been at a loss at how to treat his mangled corpse then.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about what you said." The wheels were turning behind that gaze of hers as she deftly wound a roll of gauze tightly enough to control the bleeding.

"Hn." Well that was certainly interesting. Just how affected was she by his words? Perhaps at the moment she had been paralyzed by her own emotions, but seeing how the GR had not been upgraded she had likely regained her bearings since they last spoke. As expected, she's too proud to accept his demands. A sliver of him respects that. It just wouldn't do if this feisty earthling suddenly caved to his every whim after demonstrating she possessed a backbone. "What do you make of it?"

"Maybe some things I needed to hear." She reaches around his neck to tie the sling and slides his arm inside. "But I couldn't help but feel that there's more to the picture."

The lab coat she's wearing opens just slightly as she kneels in search of more cotton, revealing a hint of her cleavage. He clears his throat, suddenly aware of her proximity. He averts his gaze from her chest, forced into looking her in the face instead. Her eyes are uncannily blue.

"Like what?"

"I make you uneasy," she remarks, pressing the tips of her fingers lightly against his chest in an attempt to gauge his level of pain. "You're not used to someone like me. It's why you don't underestimate me."

He smirks as she grabs the cotton ball and douses it in alcohol, fixing her attention on the wounds on his chest. "Oh?"

"You've never had a patroness," she offers, punctuating her statement with each dab of stinging alcohol on his various abrasions and cuts. "Just a patron."

She bows her head forward to inspect him more closely, her blue hair spilling forward. A sudden urge awakens within him to run his fingers through the wavy locks, the texture so unlike his own intriguing to his senses. No doubt it would be smoother than anything he's ever touched.

"Is that all you thought of in the early hours of the morning? And now you think you can brush elbows with me like you have me figured out? I'm disappointed."

"Your pride extends beyond prowess in the battlefield. I'm a smart woman. I could learn just about anything."

"You think I fear you?"

"In a sense. You respect me, despite your usual inclination to avoid that sort of thing."

"You're amusing and you have your wits, but don't go thinking that makes us friends. You're hardly a threat to me."

"Problem is that you're trying to face off against my best bud in a fight to the death after you presumably defeat the androids. You think I'd be okay with that?"

"I don't expect your permission to fight Kakarot. That blood debt is to be settled between us. But it would be interesting to see how you'd try to stop me."

"If this," she gestures towards his arm and torso, "is what my bots can do, just imagine what I'm capable of."

His smirk is downright wicked, pleased with her suggestion. "Quite ruthless for an earthling. I would accept your challenge. If you could actually take me out, that is."

"Would you fight me if I stood in your way? Deal with me the way you usually do with all your enemies?"

"That would be a crass strategy," he scoffs. "You dare undermine my intellect? You think me such an imbecile that I don't recognize the benefits of your talents. I don't wish to be stranded on this mudball."

"You think I would still help you if you turned on us?"

In truth he still isn't entirely sure what his goals were beyond defeating Kakarot, but he was loathe to admit this to her now. It's much more amusing to provoke her.

"You would if you wished for me to spare your planet."

"You're right about one thing. I do have my pride." She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. "I won't be cornered by you or anyone into doing anything I don't want to do. Something you're mistaken to dismiss is that I get what I want eventually. Your brawn's not enough. Even Goku knows this."

"At last I may be speaking to your truer nature." He snickers, his gaze sharp. All thoughts of his injuries are inconsequential as his posture straightens stoutly. "So you've bared your fangs. Do you have a proposition?"

"You could say that."

"And what is it?"

"You'll help me destroy the board."

This was interesting. "Is that all?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. No killing."

"How are we to destroy them then?"

"A bit of fear should do them good. You march in on one of their private meetings and express your displeasure that all my time and effort is being wasted on fixing their amateur crap. I should be properly compensated for all my hard work and be putting my talents to better use."

"If they don't?"

"They'll be seeing you again. And they don't want that. You don't like repeating yourself."

"Why should I follow through with any of this? I'm not your henchman."

"Because I'm willing to play your game. I'll help you achieve your goal of becoming a Super Saiyan."

She knows she's garnered his interest and—even though she wasn't initially going to lend out her help to this extent—the way her suggestion seemed to bring him out of his hopeless stupor assured her that she's made the right call.

Still, she needed to sell him on her sincerity.

"Isn't that what you've inadvertently been doing this whole time?"

"No. I've only been helping you get stronger, not transform."

"You know nothing of the legendary."

"I get to know anything I set my mind to. Genius, remember? If you're cooperative with me, I'll be more cooperative with you. I'll even do that upgrade you've been yammering about. Wouldn't you rather be my friend?"

"I'm nobody's friend. What a shitty concept."

She rolls her eyes. "Will you do it?"

He thinks it over, not seeing any particular harm in the exchange.

"Very well. I'll only be your accomplice this once, however."

"Good. Turns out you're not a complete pain in my ass." She grins. "You know, you still haven't seen my real lab. You sure won't regret having my pretty face around once you see it."

"Whatever," he grumbles, making a habitual gesture intended to look like he was crossing his arms. However, he just looked absurd with his slung arm hanging at his side. "Are we finished here?"

"Slow down there, homeboy. You won't be able to train like this. What's the rush? You need to rest now." She winked at him. "You're the only person I know that complains about having a total babe like me patch them up. Are you in that much denial?"

"Tch. Don't get carried away." He looks up his nose at her and shifts in his seat. "You're still a vulgar and generally annoying individual."

"And you're an asshole with an impressive physique. I can deal with that."

He says nothing. He never knew what to say about her brazen flirtation. He supposed it was just her attempts to subvert him. She certainly had gumption for all the tact she lacked.

Suddenly, he feels her grasp his chin.

"What are you-?" His eyes widen.

She tilts his head so that he's facing her. "Now, let's see that cut on your cheek."

He scowls, appalled at her propensity to grab his royal flesh at every opportunity. "Unhand me at once."

"Ok, so it's not so bad," she murmurs distractedly, lightly dabbing the affected area.

Her thumb brushes over his cheekbone lightly, tracing a small faded scar there. It doesn't feel...unpleasant. Her face is mere inches away, offering him no escape. In his field of vision he can only note her bright blue eyes framed by long and dark lashes, her pink lips, the delicate shape of her nose, her flawless porcelain skin...

She was frustratingly pretty. This earthling.

She had no business touching him. It vexes him that she would want to prolong their encounters beyond what was practical.

She releases him and rises to her feet. "Well, I guess you're okay for now as long as you stay away from the GR till I can get that senzu bean. I'll go ask Krillin."

"How long will this take?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. But I don't want you pushing yourself until I figure it out."

"I'm a saiyan. What do you expect me to do?"

"Rest," she insists. "Just forget about your masochistic training for a day. Give your muscles some recovery time."

"You presume much about saiyan physiology. I don't need rest."

"Too bad I don't give a shit."

Bulma sees the subtlest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as though he can't contain himself. She puts her supplies away, a smile of her own curling at the edges of her mouth.

"I'll be checking up on you, space man. Don't fuck up my handiwork."

"Hn."

Bulma saunters out of the room feeling rather smug that he listened to her for once.

Little did they know what had transpired that day would seal their fate.