She didn't know what she'd been expecting.
It's been a month since they were all teleported back by the dragonball wish. Namek was virtually a distant memory—almost as if she'd never been there before.
The only reminder of the high stakes galactic conflict they somehow survived was the presence of all the Namekians in her family's compound and the slinking shadow of the Saiyan Prince, whom she has rarely seen since.
It turns out that even though he was capable of commanding attention when it suited him, the man was more of a recluse. Although it was probably how he normally operated, she figured it must also be strange for him to suddenly be staying on Earth considering the circumstances that brought them all together.
Truthfully, she wasn't entirely sure what to make of the past year either.
Bulma cussed, pinching her finger trying to replace a wire for the scouter she was retrofitting. It was the scouter that broke when Vegeta and Nappa arrived on Earth. She thought it was a goner for good, but thankfully the motherboard was perfectly intact. It appeared to be one of the good features about space tech.
She bit her lip, imagining the surly Saiyan's reaction if she told him she managed to recover his former comrade's scouter. Perhaps it was best to keep this to herself for now.
There was just one component missing and she had to get on her 3-D printer to create the perfectly sized shape to seal it closed. Only, she forgot she needed to order more supplies to create the mold. She frowned, she wanted to have this done earlier.
Bulma sighed, running her hand through her hair. Maybe that was enough for the time being. It was more of a curiosity project to ward off the boredom that had settled over her again. That was to be expected after all the excitement of the past two years and suddenly returning to the monotony of boardroom meetings. Not to mention, her family was sworn to secrecy by the government after the whole saiyan invasion fiasco and their current housing situation with the namekians. Aside from the remainder of the z squad that still needed to be revived in less than a year and the plethora of aliens inhabiting the compound, things were more or less back to normal. The novelty has worn off.
Which somehow was dissatisfying. She was glad to be home, but at the same time, she couldn't help but ponder...is this it?
Did that make her a terrible girlfriend or selfish person? To have wanted profound change from their latest adventures?
She should probably go shower before dinner. Tomorrow she could test the hard drive's integrity and see if she could recover any data. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she walked up the main stairs to her room.
She wondered where he was now. Vegeta. The belligerent alien she invited to her home on a whim.
No. Not a whim. Bulma frowned, distraught at herself for the hundredth time. No matter how much she rationalized the invitation as a necessity, that wasn't the real reason. It was simple, she realized upon further reflection.
Because she saw the glimmer of intelligence in his eyes.
He wasn't just some brute. His shrewdness, bared to her so suddenly...it called to her. He spoke so rationally and soundly. All of it was so unlike Goku or the rest of the z gang. It was like hearing another speak her language for the first time.
Instinctually, her body leaned in his direction. With the barest restraint she addressed him openly, encroaching his space. Her prior fear of him wavered, as if her amygdala had stopped functioning altogether.
His distaste was palpable and he balked at her forwardness, calling her vulgar and objecting to her use of the word 'cute' to describe him. But ultimately, he reluctantly followed them into her family's airlift with the rest of the namekians. And just like that, there was an unspoken truce, his sharp tongue tucked away quietly behind an unfriendly scowl.
She had observed him occasionally throughout the whole ride home, still in disbelief that she had reasoned with him so swiftly. Neither of them were fools, of course. It benefitted him to await Goku's revival from the comfort of Capsule Corp., especially when it was the only reliable way for him to have access to space travel or training equipment.
As she made her way down the hall, Bulma noticed that the door of the guest room was slightly ajar and that the light was turned on. The namekians had specifically requested round the clock access to the outdoors, saying that they preferred to commune more closely with nature.
It could only be one person.
Intrigued, she slowed her stride and glanced through the partially open door, peering into the room.
His back was turned to her. He was removing his white chest plate, setting it down on his nightstand and appearing to be lost in thought. All his movements were fluid, his posture rigidly straight as usual. He raised the navy undershirt over his head and, not for the first time, Bulma took note of his trim waist and broad shoulders. She had to lend it to him. He was impressive, an enticing combination of muscles and lithe grace.
But that wasn't what made her hold her breath and pause. Rather, it was the scars raking the expanse of his back on his otherwise seamless bronze skin. He was covered in silver lines, chief among them one that ran diagonally like the cut of a sword.
She could only imagine how many battles he'd been in given the amount. Probably thousands more than Goku. Not even he was marked this way.
Even so, there was something specifically about Vegeta that invoked refinement in spite of his gruff demeanor. His posture and the way he carried himself was entirely different from the other saiyan. There was a discipline to him in spite of his equally wild, unpredictable nature.
All of him seemed to be in opposition—a walking incongruity. He was imposing, yet he wasn't any taller than her. He was menacing, yet he flustered when caught off guard. He boasted loudly, instantly becoming the center of attention in one instant and completely vanishing the next. All of this culminated in a character she couldn't quite pin down.
Just who are you, Vegeta?
She realized she had stopped moving this entire time, so lost in her musings.
As if sensing her stare, he stilled. The muscles of his back bunched up and he whipped his face around. Suddenly, his piercing black eyes were cutting through her. Furious. Shocked.
Bulma's legs stumbled into motion, increasing the distance between her and her houseguest's room, her heart pounding. Her face inexplicably burning.
Bulma was in her lab the next day, mulling over the incident as she finally managed to piece together the scouter. She looked at it triumphantly, setting it down on a table to go login to one of the hardier computers.
"So this is where you normally sequester yourself."
"Ahh!" She jumped, so absorbed on the task at hand she didn't even detect a presence.
"I'll say this only once." Vegeta stood behind her, his face severe, wearing the same old armor. "I'll not tolerate you meddling in my affairs. Stop probing me like some specimen."
"What the hell, Vegeta?!" She clutched her chest, her heart-rate through the roof. "Why do you have to sneak around like some creep?"
"Your dull human senses leave much to be desired." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Besides, you're one to talk, prowling outside my door studying me like some caged animal. How perverse."
Well, maybe he had a point...
"Look. I happened to be walking to my room and was just shocked because I haven't ever seen you actually use the guest room."
"A poor excuse. You're not a good liar." He scoffed, surveying her work station. "All the same, I frankly don't care to know for what reason you were traipsing about."
"Then what brings you here?"
He didn't look at her, instead glancing at her equipment and computers. "The old man was right. You're a scientist. An engineer."
"Yeah. What about it?"
He laughed wryly. "And here I thought your favorite pastime was frolicking in your undergarments by the pool."
Bulma snickered. Did he think she was just some airhead? She wanted to lash out at him instinctively, on the basis of his underestimation of her alone. She would normally already have Yamcha quaking in his boots, but this was by far the longest he's ever addressed her. And...she is bored. Her curiosity wins out against his blatant attack on her ego and she smiles mischievously.
"I see you took notice of my bikinis. You like them?"
He ignored her comment. "You could prove useful to me when the time comes...which is why I'll be lenient on your infractions thus far. But don't push it."
"That fear shtick will only get you so far around here. I'm more responsive to positive reinforcement. I know you're not so classless that you only use your brawn to get things done."
He bristled at the suggestion. "Of course not."
"Then impress me. That's what got you into my home in the first place."
She debated whether it was a wise decision to lay out her thoughts so transparently to him. Yet, it felt like the perfect thing to say the second it left her mouth.
His scowl receded, mulling over her words. It almost made her laugh, the way he calculated and analyzed everything, but she resisted. She was starting to understand this man's ridiculous pride. Of course she would be using that to her advantage.
He really looked at her then. Not in the way he's been flippantly dismissing her since they first met, but actually assessing her from head to toe as if she was some sort of puzzle. The same way that he would deduce an opponent's power level.
"Tch. You're a strange woman."
He turned to leave, but stopped at the sound of her voice.
"Oh and Vegeta." She liked the sound of his name on her tongue. The way he cocked his head back with steel in his eyes. The curve of his lips. That bashful pride of his. "Let me know when you want me to replace that armor."
For the first time in a month, she felt a stirring in her gut when he smirked faintly, acknowledging her. It wasn't what she would describe as friendly. Nothing that would put her at ease. Far from it.
It was a challenge.
Her fingers itched to rewire and tweak, her thoughts teeming with possibility as she glanced at her workbench.
Maybe she wouldn't be that bored after all.