After spending over an hour dicing onions through watery eyes, Bulma did something that was very rare for her.

She gave up.

"Ugh. Screw this!" she grumbled to herself, tossing her knife into the sink. She was currently barricaded behind a small fortification made up of boxes of angel hair pasta and jars of red sauce.

She had planned to make spaghetti and meatballs for the saiyan prince, hoping that she would somehow win his favor with a good meal. Unfortunately, she absolutely hated cooking and being in the kitchen. Multiplying her work by six didn't make things any easier.

Bulma washed her hands carefully, making sure to scrub off any traces of the evil onion juice from her fingertips. She glanced over at the small mountain of diced onions in a bowl next to the discarded cutting board. She'd have to tell Mom to use all that up…

She grabbed a towel and dried her hands, thinking to herself.

There was no way she was going to be able to cook a halfway decent meal, let alone a feast.

She pulled the house phone off of its hook on the wall, suddenly smiling. Well, just because she couldn't prepare a feast herself didn't mean she couldn't produce one.

—

Vegeta was acutely aware of the time. It was nagging at him all day while he exerted as much energy as possible flying and blasting rocks apart in the desert. He watched the sun slowly meander across the sky, scowling to himself.

He didn't want to think about it, but mentioning that he would arrive back at the compound for dinner seemed to satisfy Bulma. Not that he cared how she felt. She was becoming more of a nuisance with every growing day, between harassing him about his training methods to her emotional episodes that woke him from his slumber.

His time at Capsule Corp. so far had been vastly different than any other experience in his life. The weak Earthlings who took him in were pathetic when it came to combat, but technical geniuses who were practically royalty themselves. On this planet, it seemed that most often, money equaled power. And the Briefs family sure had a lot of that.

They were his generous hosts, and for the first time in a very long time he felt…welcome.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and he roughly brushed it away with the outside of his forearm, smearing dirt around his face in the process.

It was unsettling.

They knew who they were dealing with, right? What happened to the terrified screams when he showed up on this planet? Now he could fly around mostly unbothered. Now he fought for the Earthlings, alongside them.

It made him sick.

He was a prince. He should own this planet! He was strong, they were weak!

But he needed to be stronger. Vegeta knew in his very core that he must reach Super Saiyan soon. It was vital for him to not only keep up with Kakarot, but to surpass him. Vegeta should have reached Super Saiyan before that low level worm.

No matter. He would work until his body was ripped apart. He would never give in. He would reach Super Saiyan if it killed him.

Vegeta halted where he was, in the desert sky, panting from exertion. He glanced up towards the sun again; it was getting close to dinner time.

He didn't have time for distractions. The Earthling woman was exactly that: a distraction. A very beautiful one, at that.

She was clouding his thoughts and dulling his judgment. He couldn't see clearly with her invading his mind.

He flew through the sky as fast as possible, still regaining his breath, not caring about the strain it put on his body. His lungs burned inside his chest.

He would return, eat dinner, then tell her that whatever she thought was going on was done. He couldn't allow himself to be bothered anymore.

—

As he made his way over the compound, flying overhead, he did a double take.

The large upper balcony above his and Bulma's rooms was decked out like a royal feast. He slowed, slack-jawed, taking in the sight of a long dining table filled from end to end with food. There were some unimportant looking Earthlings placing platters of food out in the few remaining spaces.

"Hey! Vegeta!" Bulma was waving him down. Her long blue hair was pulled back, and she was wearing a low-cut blue dress.

He let his feet sink down to the balcony. "We're still unloading the food," she told him with a big grin. "Go clean up, and then we can eat!"

"What is all this?" he asked, stomach audibly growling at the sight of the buffet in front of them.

The woman giggled. "It's your dinner! A reward for your hard work," she told him with a wink. "Now go take a shower, you look like a complete mess! The food will be waiting for you."

He had never flown so fast in his entire life.

—

Bulma smirked to herself, leaning back in her seat to watch the saiyan warrior absolutely devour the plates of food before him. She motioned for a nearby waiter to fetch another tray- it looked like Vegeta had already destroyed most of the turkey legs and was moving on to pasta.

She had already decided to eat light; just a small salad and, well, her fourth West City iced tea. She couldn't lie to herself: she was definitely feeling it. But she was all nerves, and sipping a cool, alcoholic beverage helped her feel more settled.

Bulma had been friends with Goku for most of her life, so she already knew the saiyan's attention could not be ripped away from the feast in front of him. So she waited patiently, sipping her drink and enjoying the warm breeze that would occasionally pass through. The sun would be setting soon.

When Vegeta finally started slowing down, she shooed the servants away.

"You saiyans really are something else." She offered him a smile. "I hope that was to your liking." She quickly finished her drink.

Vegeta leaned back in his chair, raising his arms up behind him and resting the back of his head in his open palms. "The food was adequate."

A positive response. Good. Not exactly a thank you, but she could work with it. Her body suddenly shot up out of her seat, and she made her way over to the prince.

Woah. She was a bit wobbly. That's fine! Just had to focus on walking over...

She had picked some simple heels with one of her favorite dresses, the blue one that matched her hair and made her cleavage look phenomenal.

She perched herself on the edge of the table directly facing Vegeta, crossing her legs. She swore she saw his eye twitch for a moment, but he otherwise remained relaxed, still leaning back in his seat.

Bulma froze. The sun was descending directly behind Vegeta's giant spikes of hair; the sky was pink with splotches of bright red ripping through the few clouds. The effect was breathtaking.

Reclining in his seat, eyebrow quirking up at her curiously, he never looked more regal to her. The golden sun crowned him right before her, and the sky looked like a violent celebration…

"Woman, what are you doing?" His voice was quiet.

She realized she had been staring at him for…well, for a bit. The sun was lowering behind the back of his head.

"Well…" she started, twisting the ends of her hair up with her fingers. "First, I was wondering if this is a date." She was proud to say she didn't slur a single word.

"A what?"

"A date. You know. When two people who like each other…hang out. And get to know each other." She smiled, waiting for a response.

"Woman, I don't like anyone." He removed his arms from behind his head to cross them over his chest. Uh oh.

She leaned in towards him, practically hanging off the table to close some of the space between them. "That can't be true, can it?" Bulma grinned like a cat. He seemed nervous. Twitchy almost. She liked that. It meant he felt something. "I mean…I feed you, I provide you with tools to grow stronger…" She tossed her hair over her shoulder, pushing her chest out just a bit further. "You're attracted to me, right?"

Vegeta sputtered, losing all semblance of control over his features. "What?!"

"I said," she abruptly stood, now towering over the sitting saiyan. "You're attracted to me…" she then bent down, placing her arm on the headrest behind him, giving him nowhere else to look but her face and her tits. "Right?"

Vegeta's face was redder than the sky behind him. "I- I don't know what you're talking about."

Bulma grinned, hastily sitting right on his lap. He looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. Her arm snaked behind his head, bringing them closer.

Her voice came out breathy, almost a whisper. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Prince Vegeta."

He groaned. There was a heat behind his eyes. "You should watch what you say." His voice was low and rumbly. It was a warning.

Her hand absentmindedly reached up to the back of his neck, and she began lightly scratching her nails into his hair. Vegeta sounded like he choked down another groan.

"I know what I'm saying." She watched him, surveying his response to her touch. It looked like it was taking all his inner strength to stay perfectly still. "Why don't you sleep in my bed again tonight?"

There was no more sputtering or shocked looks. His eyes bore into her as his lips twisted into a smirk. "You're playing with fire, Bulma."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"I can take the heat."

She pushed his head forward, crashing her lips onto his. He let out the softest sound before melting into her. Bulma wasted no time and immediately readjusted, swinging a leg over his hips, straddling him. Her dress rode up nearly to her waist. Vegeta's arms wrapped around her with surprising gentleness.

Bulma took the lead, using her tongue to guide him to open his mouth. He obliged, and their hot, wet tongues fought for control. A hand reached up to the back of her head, rough fingers grasping through her hair to her scalp, and she moaned into his mouth. He pushed her head further towards him, as if they couldn't be close enough. They needed to be closer to each other, to feel every inch of each other's mouths.

Bulma instinctively ground herself onto his lap, causing Vegeta to groan against her teeth.

And suddenly- it was over.

Bulma opened her slightly dazed eyes to see him pulling away from her. His lips looked slightly swollen.

"Woman, are you drunk?"

Oh fuck. Her stomach sank to her feet in an instant. "I- I mean, I had a few drinks-"

He easily lifted her up by her hips, gently removing her from his lap and placing her to the side of his chair. "No."

"But I-"

His face looked like a hurricane, a storm, a wild force powered by something she didn't understand. "No. I refuse to take part in whatever-" he gestured towards her. "-this is if you don't have control of yourself."

He quickly stood up, and they were back on eye level with each other. He stared at her, a scowl reuniting with his face. "Gods, woman. You almost had me fooled."

"Vegeta, wait-"

With that, he flew off towards the indigo sky.

—