"Because seven ate nine," bits of rice flew out of Gohan's nose at Krillin's punch line. The rest of the room exploded in loud, boisterous laughter all except for one figure cast in a dark corner. Chi-Chi rushed to Gohan's side armed with a mop to clear the post-laughter mess. Bulma smiled coyly as Yamcha took advantage of the ruckus to slip his arm around her waist. He's doing it again, she thought to herself. Except this time, she didn't feel the familiar butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Instead, the teriyaki she'd crammed down her throat now rebelled against her gastric juices. Perverted jerk.

"You're hilarious, Krillin," Bulma squirmed out of Yamcha's grasp and rushed over to her non-shampoo-using friend.

"Hilarious? More like ridiculous," the figure slowly emerged from the shadowy corners of the room and cackled that evil laugh that could make even Dracula jealous. Vegeta's lips maneuvered themselves into his trademark smirk simultaneous with the crossing of his arms.

"Come on, Vegeta, lighten up! It's just a joke," Krillin shivered ever so slightly in his attempt to console the upset Prince of Saiyans.

"If you ask me, nine was just a weakling human who fell at the hands of an ever more powerful Saiyan," Vegeta moistened the tip of his index finger and rubbed diligently at the dots on Krillin's forehead. Despite endless pleading that they were permanent, he just couldn't accept it. Krillin's trembling registered on his finger tips, his smirked evolved into a devious smile.

"Yes, but the humor lies in the context of numbers. Seven ate nine or seven, eight, nine," Yamcha neared Bulma and hovered his arm around her only to scoop up air. Vegeta was not oblivious to this and laughed even more menacingly this time.

"Silly human, if you weren't such an imbecile, you'd realize that the woman does not want you. She has been evading your grasps for some time now," the insult cut like a drunk man shaving his face. Yamcha's face reddened with fury, he took a few steps towards Vegeta, drawing gasps from everyone in the room.

"Funny of you to say that, considering that you've never even been with a woman before," Yamcha towered over Vegeta, emulating an image of a father scolding a son. Although it's needless to say that in terms of strength it was the other way around. Goku knew he had to get involved sooner or later, the Briefs family had just finished the latest renovations in their home since another "mishap" of Vegeta's temper.

"I don't need to have been with a woman to know when I'm being rejected," Yamcha's fists balled up and Vegeta's smile stretched even wider. In a nanosecond, Goku landed a hard one on Yamcha's head and he fell to the ground.

"What the hell did you just do! That was my fight," Goku threw Yamcha over his shoulder like a towel and proceeded to the door.

"Better for me to take him down with one controlled punch than have you go all out on him! Goodnight everyone it is getting late," the rest of the crowd began clearing up leaving behind empty plates and cups and chopsticks scattered about the room. Bulma swore her father must have invented robo-maids because clutter never seemed to stay around for long even if no one bothered to clean it up.

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Bulma woke up at around two in the morning. She heard some noises in her room a few minutes ago, but was convinced that it was just her imagination at work again. Superior intelligence does have its setbacks. Her feet descended down the stairs slowly, she stopped three steps before catching a glimpse of what looked like Vegeta's spiky, unruly hair. He seemed completely motionless, his eyes out of focus in a glassy stare. His fingers seemed to be fumbling with something pink and lacy.

She squinted and tried to make out the object that seemed extremely inappropriate in the hands of someone who has killed quite a number of men. It took about two seconds for it to register in her mind. Vegeta had somehow gotten hold of her pink thong. Her favorite pink thong at that. What is he doing with that!

All fear of being killed by a ki blast evaporated as Bulma thumped noisily and snatched the garment out of his hands.

"Why the hell do you have this," she yelled in his face, moistening his cheeks with a slight film of spit. The Prince of Saiyans would've normally snarled and retorted in a snap, but he was caught red-handed. "You pervert! Why are you playing with my underwear! Do you get sexually aroused in some way?"

"Un…Underwear! That's what this is," his hands twitched and quivered as if he'd just dipped them in a bucket of cow dung. His eyes reverted back to the ground. Bulma could see his ears reddening madly by the second. His shoulders shook subtly, his whole body seemed gripped with tension.

"Well… Yes. That's what it is," she had planned to fight him for about an hour, but for once he seemed so vulnerable. For once, his unending arrogance came to a halt. This was just too good to be true, her mind was dizzying with all the possible things she could do to this moment. Then it hit her, the incident with Yamcha, this just had to be the reason for this. "Wait, did you do this because of what Yamcha told you earlier?"

He didn't answer, nor did he budge. Bulma waited patiently. His delayed response was making the situation even more awkward.

"I really don't know what my underwear will teach you about women. It is significant in a sense, but what it covers is of much more important, don't you think," a little teasing couldn't hurt a little. She had him right on the spot, cornered like a mouse. The sound of drops trickling unto a hard surface caught Bulma's attention. She didn't remember it raining today, it seemed highly unlikely.

The sound didn't cease for a few seconds more. By then she realized it was coming from where Vegeta was sitting. Her jaw collapsed at her realization. Vegeta had just wet himself.

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