Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^

'………' Thought.

"………" Spoken.

"I can't believe I agreed to this." Vegeta stared at the blank television screen while Bulma popped in the third sentimental love movie that they were to see that day. Only half of the day was over; the prince groaned. This wasn't what he had in mind. Only half way through the first film, Bulma had been in tears, and hadn't stopped yet. That wretched sobbing was really starting to get on his nerves. But he'd promised himself he was going to make it up to her, somehow. And this was what she wanted, so he could do nothing but submit to this… this... tormenting. It just wasn't rational. Silently, he scolded himself. Since when had he been known to be REALISTIC? 'Feh! What is this woman DOING to me? She's making me think like just another normal human. Geez…'

"Woman. Is this thing OVER yet?" Bulma looked to him with moist sapphire pools, and forced a weak smile.

"No one said you had to stay, Vegeta. I can watch a movie alone, you know." The Saiya-jin looked intently to her for an instant before turning his nose up.

"So you're saying you don't appreciate my company?"

"Vegeta, Jesus. I never said that!"

"You just did."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Stop acting like a baby."

"You're the one acting like a baby, woman. Can't even go to work with a few scratches."

"…"

"Ha! See? I'm right, you're wrong, as usual."

"Shut up."

"Can't even take defeat like a man."

"I'm not a man, so it doesn't matter."

"…Shut up."

"Ha! This time, dear prince, I'M right, and YOU'RE wrong."

"…Weakling," Vegeta turned to face Bulma, a mischievous smirk forming on his visage. His little princess glared at him, and scoffed.

"Fine. Stay. Get over here, now," she pointed to the space directly next to her; she wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. Bulma just couldn't get that soothing masculine aroma out of her head. She wanted more of it.

Vegeta minded, and moved closer to her, sitting cross-legged with his head resting in his hands like he had earlier that morning. Timidly at first, she moved her head not to his shoulder, but rested her head in the prince's lap, smiling faintly to herself. Vegeta caught this, but the woman resting in his lap had no idea he'd seen.

They sat through half of another movie, Vegeta more or less staring at the side of Bulma's head than the TV screen, and Bulma quickly on her way to falling fast asleep. He positioned his hand on her cheek, feeling how soft her skin was; how good it felt against his naked hands. He had to tell her how he felt, but his pride just wouldn't bow to permit him to. He suddenly felt a pang of humiliation because of it; he couldn't tell the woman he cared for how he felt, just because of this damned thing called pride… called arrogance. Because of everything that made Vegeta, Vegeta. He was left alone with his thoughts as Bulma slept wordlessly on his lap. The prince pulled a bedspread over her, but dared not move. He had no intentions on waking her… not for the world, for anything, for anyone. Well, except him, of course. But even he decided against it.

Bulma awoke to Vegeta's soft heartbeat. A bit surprised, she stared in disbelief at the Saiya-jin prince that held her close; apparently, he'd fallen asleep as well. He was laying on the right side of her bed, 'his' female pulled close to his chest, his arm draped around her waist. Bulma lingered on the thought for a moment, and decided that she could get used to waking up like this every single morning before she had to work. She glanced at the clock; one o'clock a.m. Still sore from her fall, she recoiled, trying not to make any noise. The last thing she wanted was to wake Vegeta up unwillingly. She sighed quietly, and buried her head back into his torso. 'I can't believe this is really happening… I've wanted it for so long. And now, I'm lying here, in his arms, and it feels so…right…' Bulma's thoughts were interrupted when a very groggy Vegeta sat up slowly, dragging his arm over her chest, yawning some as he did. She glanced at him, a bit bewildered.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up, Vegeta…"

"You didn't, I woke up on my own." Bulma was hesitant to accept this as true at first, but then nodded into her pillow, signifying that she understood. "Why are you up, anyway? You're the injured one, you should be resting." He arched an eyebrow, and earned himself a playful punch on her part.

"Vegeta, I swear. Sometimes you are insatiable."

"And why is that bad?"

"I never said it was bad."

"You were implying it."

"Was not."

"Was so." He chuckled as she wrinkled up her nose in frustration. She was just so damn… delectable when she was irate. He loved every bit of it.

"Why do you argue just for the sake of arguing?" Vegeta chuckled at the forthrightness of her question. But she DID deserve an answer.

"Because I am a Saiya-jin prince, that's why."

"That doesn't explain anything." Bulma turned to face him, the covers arranged over her hip, her taut stomach exposed in its totality. She rested her the side of her head in her palm; her elbow propped up against her pillow.

"It explains enough."

"Come on, Vegeta, tell me."

"…Let's just say the way I was raised; I refuse to be walked all over like a doormat ever again." Bulma caught the look he gave her, and quit her prying for the evening. She could tell he'd had enough, and it was something he didn't want to discuss. She figured it would come with time. The prince took in a solid breath and released it, getting out of the bed completely.

"Vegeta chan..? Where're you going?"

"I'm going to change. I'll be right back, okay?" Bulma gave her consent as soon as she grasped that he was still wearing the one-piece fight suit that he loved so much. Feeling too tired to change, and too lazy to even stand, the only option she had was to sleep in what she was wearing. Vegeta didn't seem to mind and she sure as hell didn't.

Vegeta silently pulled off the close-fitting suit. It actually felt good to get out of it for once; he'd always favored it above any other garments, but for some reason; not this time. He blindly reached for the pajama pants that Bulma had bought him a while back. Stepping into them, he hopped around, fumbling about carelessly for the light switch. Upon finding it, he flipped it on, and gazed longingly at his bed. It wasn't that he minded sharing one with the female, it was just that he found this one much more comfortable than his own. He should've moved her in there when he had the chance; there wasn't any way in hell she was going to move now that she was awake. He'd just have to deal with it. The Saiya-jin picked up his boots and suit and tossed them into a corner, making note of where he put them for easy access the next morning. But now, he was headed back to the female he thought of as his, even though she didn't know as of yet.

When he returned, Bulma held up the blankets, welcoming him back in her own odd sort of way. Vegeta gladly accepted, and curled back up, pulling her to his chest once again. Her hands were tucked under her own chin. Her hair tickled his chest, but he suppressed any movement on his part. As soon as he was confident that she was sleeping serenely, he permitted himself to sleep as well. For the first time since the prince had left Vegeta-sei, his sleep wasn't plagued by nightmares, but of dreams that appealed to his every sense. He slept well.