Bulma grumbled in irritation. With the gravity machine in shambles, Vegeta was off training who-knew-where, leaving her to wait for him. She didn't care how late it got, she was giving him a piece of her mind!

She wished she had a scouter right about now to sense his energy, but she doubted it would help. He seemed to keep his ki masked at all times as a defense mechanism.

She had been pacing on her balcony for two hours, hoping she would get a clear view of the saiyan prick the moment he flew onto the grounds. Surely he'd make his way to his own small balcony before crashing in bed or making his way to the kitchen. The sun had gone down hours ago.

Good thing she took that nap earlier, actually. While he had managed to escape her and the hospital staff, at least she was decently rested for staying up all night to stalk him.

Something tickled the back of her brain- the faintest little memory. What had she been dreaming about? It was trickling away from her. The more she tried to grasp it, the slippier the memory became…

Ah ha! There he was! He was flying in at a decent pace, 20 feet overhead. The moment he was passing above her balcony she screamed, "Hey! Asshole! Get down here!" He froze in midair.

She balled her fists up, her nails biting into her skin. She had been working on this speech in her head all night long.

"I said, get down here!" She sounded like a stern mother.

Vegeta slowly floated down to meet her face to face on her balcony. He looked worse for wear: his body was still beat up from the explosion, and it looked like some of his bandages had come off while he was off training. He only had on his shorts and boots. He folded his arms over his chest. "Are you really talking to me like that after you nearly killed me?"

Bulma flinched, dropping her hands to her sides. Okay, she somehow was not expecting him to fire back with that. "I didn't- I'm sorry." She met his eye, trying to read his thoughts. He was as stoic as a statue.

"I never thought that could happen," she continued. She forced her voice to remain steady. "For a minute there, I was really scared that you…you had…"

"Tch," he scowled. "It'll take a lot more than that to kill a Saiyan warrior like me."

A smile grew on her face. "Yeah. I figured as much."

"Can I go now, or are you going to attempt to murder me again?"

She grit her teeth, clenching her fists again. "No! I am not done with you yet!" She stomped closer to him, eager to give him the lecture of a lifetime. "You need to rest," she jabbed his chest. "You need to heal! You were in that hospital for a reason."

He rolled his eyes at her. The nerve! "Woman, I am a Saiyan. Your pathetic human hospital wasn't doing anything for me. I need to train."

"Ugh!" A frustrated cry erupted from her lips. She balled her fist up once more, this time pounding it on his chest. His eyebrows flew upwards in shock. Her outburst momentarily stunned him. "You need to listen to me. I am here to help you, and you are not letting me do my job!" She retracted her fist just to slam it down on him again. "You are so fucking frustating!" She moved to pound on him again, and he deftly caught her by the wrist. His face returned to its usual expressionless state. "Why do you want to damage yourself more? Just take some time off, recover, then focus on training, you half-wit!"

His dark, fiery eyes bore into hers, unblinking. He still gripped her wrist, keeping her rooted in place. Her breath was ragged. She hadn't realized that she had practically worked herself into a frenzy. She pulled back on her wrist, but he held her there. There was no retreating until he allowed it.

"Watch your tongue, woman," he warned her. His voice was quiet and dark, rumbling like thunder.

She double-downed, scowling. "No. You need to hear this. You're trying to treat your body like it's some kind of machine, but it's not. You need to recover! Even Goku takes time off-"

He released her wrist, glowering at her. "Kakarot is a low class fool who could benefit from a tougher training regimen."

Bulma couldn't help but laugh. "Really? He is already a super saiyan, you think he needs to train harder?"

She had touched a nerve. He visibly recoiled at her words, then he quickly regained his composure like nothing had happened. "This is exactly why I need to train. If I want to attain Super Saiyan-"

"Vegeta, I am begging, literally begging you to get a grip." He turned as if he would fly away, and this time she reached out, seizing his upper arm. He stopped in place. "This relentless attitude you have towards your training is admirable…but you're going to kill yourself."

He looked over his shoulder, eyes seeking hers. "Why do you care?"

That question startled her. She stared into his eyes for a long moment, drinking him in. She kept her hand on him; she wasn't sure why, but she felt the need to stop him, to hold him, to tell him…

"Is it wrong for me to care about you?" Bulma's heart rate started picking up. Without thinking, she brushed her thumb along the warm muscles of his arm.

He wrenched his arm out of her grip. "Yes," he answered vacantly before flying off.

—

The stupid, stupid, stupid fucking woman. For being a genius, she really had her moments of foolishness. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Vegeta let a growl rumble deep in his throat, roughly brushing a fresh towel over his soaked hair.

He turned to face the mirror once more, this time electing against destroying the sink in his frustration. The woman's mother, Panchy, had been kind enough to replace it with a shiny new one.

His reflection stared back at him. He looked like absolute shit, which was a step up from how he felt: like death. His muscles trembled as he moved the towel down to pat dry his body. He hadn't been this beat up since…maybe Namek?

He shuddered at the thought. He had been so weak, he actually died. He tried not to remember what Hell was like, pushing the thought down with as much mental force as he could gather.

She really had to be insane to even consider caring for someone like him. He was selfish, he was all ego, he killed because it was his job, but also because it was fun. That's why someone like him would go…where he had gone when he died. Every second there had felt like an eternity.

He tossed the towel in a nearby basket before pulling on some underwear, deciding that was enough for tonight. He allowed himself to fall into bed with zero grace. All that mattered was his face hitting the pillow.

Maybe the woman was right. Rest was vital when it came to most species' training regimens, Saiyans included. But he just felt so weak when he allowed himself to loaf around. He would never catch up to Kakarot if he simply lazed about for weeks on end.

Why did she have to say anything?

"Is it wrong for me to care about you?" Her big blue eyes were so earnest. Something about their coloring reminded him of home.

He punched his pillow, pretending he was fluffing it for comfort.

Forming attachments was a weakness. It was one of Kakarot's biggest flaws. Earth had made Kakarot soft, and now it was making him soft as well.

Vegeta didn't care about the Earthling. He refused to.

—

Vegeta jolted out of bed, still foggy from sleep. His body had launched itself up before his brain had woken up. Alarm bells were ringing out through his entire body, his entire nervous system was on high alert. His adrenaline was pumping, his blood rushing through his veins at an incredible speed.

He hovered above his bed briefly, trying to make sense of what had triggered his battle senses. He searched out, using his ki to feel around him…

The woman!

Her energy was erratic, and it was spiking all over the place. Vegeta flew out of his room without a second thought.

There was no other ki nearby, but something was deathly wrong. Why was her heart racing like that? He surged down the hall at top speed, his force knocking a picture frame off the wall. He could practically taste her panic.

He wrenched her door wide open, his eyes darting around her dark bedroom. He had never been in here before. He had no time to take it in as he darted over to the bed.

In the moonlight, he could see that Bulma was lying on her back, covered in a sheen of sweat. Her hair was plastered across her forehead, her brows scrunched up, her small hands grasping her sheets. Her energy was chaotic, spiking, dancing all around him, enveloping the room with hysteria.

Was she…was she having a nightmare?

"No…no don't…" she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Vegeta glanced around the room, wanting to ensure that they were alone.

…The silly, weak woman.

He carefully positioned himself on the edge of her bed. Her heart was beating so fast for her fragile little body.

"Shhh," he hushed, unsure of what to say or do to calm her.

"Please…don't…" Bulma turned closer towards him fitfully.

He pushed her hair back from her face, the skin on her forehead hot and sticky. She was really worked up. "Shh…it's alright." His voice was still low and grumbly from sleep.

She released the sheet she had been fervently gripping, kicking it off and rolling over onto her side and completely onto his lap.

"Eh-"

The woman wrapped her arms around his waist as if she were holding onto him for dear life. His heart began pounding again. From this angle, he could now see she was just wearing a large tee shirt again, her long, pale legs exposed to the night air.

A sweatdrop beaded on his forehead. He should leave.

She nuzzled into him. What the-

Vegeta stared down at her, completely shocked by whatever this embrace was. He caught a small smile on her face before she buried it in his lap. "Vegeta."

His stomach dropped. Was- was she awake?!

He brushed his thumb over her forehead again, trying to view her face as gently as possibly. She let out a pleasurable hum, and he swore his heart skipped a beat.

He began pulling away, but the devilish woman seemed to be pulling from reserves of hidden strength. Her arms kept him anchored to the bed.

Bulma raised her head up to peer into his face. Her eyes were hooded from fatigue, but she was most definitely awake now.

She looked almost divine. Her blue hair was wild, her expression cryptic. She somehow looked more exquisite now, all ruffled up and sleepy, than she did when she was all dressed up for a date. He swallowed a lump in his throat. How could a human affect him like this?

She inched her body up, never losing her hold on him. She practically climbed into his lap. Big blue eyes met onyx ones before she buried her face into his neck. Her chest was pressed tightly against his. It felt like she could squeeze the very life out of him.

"Stay with me. Please."

He inhaled sharply. She wanted him to stay with her? Before he could respond, she gently pulled on him, and together they tumbled back onto the bed, facing each other.

Vegeta was frozen. Words escaped his brain as the woman nestled her face into the spot between his neck and his arm. She bent her leg, her knee coming to rest in between his legs. He must be dreaming. None of this could be real.

His senses were overloading. Her hair was right under his nose, her bare skin pressed to his, her silky soft sheets smelled like her. Everything smelled like her. It was all too much.

She draped an arm over his waist, clutching his back. He needed to say something. He couldn't stay here like this!

"B…Bulma," he stammered out, feeling like a fool. "I-"

She pressed her face against his neck, her hot breath tickling him as she spoke: "Thank you." Her fingertips idly drew circles on his bare back. "I…I know it might seem silly. But you make me feel safe."

His heart boomed in his chest, his mouth suddenly very dry. He couldn't think of a response. His mind was totally blank.

He decided on wrapping his arm around the woman. He pulled her in closer. Vegeta swore he could feel her smiling.

PHEW. I have found some inspiration again. Spice is in your future. Thank you all SO MUCH for all the comments, favorites, and follows.

I also made a twitter account pretty much solely for talking about fanfic and retweeting fan art. If you're interested, I'm over at ElectricOwl_

Thanks for reading :)