Nothing major here. Just some pointless YamBul fluff ^^

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Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball, it belongs to Akira Toriyama (if I did, Yamcha and Bulma would've gotten married)! I only wrote this story! Enjoy!~

What was it like to be a heavy sleeper? Like, to be the kind of person who didn't wake up until after the sun came up, no matter what, instead of being woken up every time someone got into or out of the bed. It was pretty much the only thing that made sense to Yamcha, his mind buzzing like static as he was pulled out of his slumber when he felt the bed dip behind him and a warm weight pressing against his backside. It took his mind several seconds to process that it was Bulma climbing into the bed and snuggling up to him. He loved her, but it was times like this that Yamcha wished he was a heavy sleeper.

The ex-bandit glanced over at the clock, his tired eyes squinting at the annoyingly-bright neon numbers for a minute or so, and he finally saw that it was 4:09 AM. Bulma had almost pulled another all-nighter. Again.

"Bulma," Yamcha groan was muffled in his pillow. "We've talked about this."

"I have work," the bluenette grumbled out. "You know that."

"'Personal projects' don't count as 'work'," Yamcha argued back as best as his fatigued mind would allow him. "Just take a day off already."

"Yamcha, have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm the president of the biggest, most successful company on the planet," Bulma hissed out. "There's no such thing as a day off. Now shut up and let me sleep."

Yamcha chose not to argue any further, and within minutes, she was sound asleep. Yamcha wished he could've said the same about him, but his mind was now bustling with annoyance. Why did she have to do this? She had pulled multiple all-nighters and stayed up extremely late too many times to count, and it had taken a toll on her over the years. Yamcha turned himself slightly to get a good look at her, her entire being illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the window, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the dark circles under her eyes, accompanied by her disheveled mess of blue hair and even sunken-in cheeks. How many times had she gone days with minimal food and sleep, again?

Maybe it was because it sounded good in his exhausted mind, but the next thing Yamcha knew, he was reaching over the nightstand on Bulma's side of the bed without waking her up and shut off his wife's alarm clock, and promptly pulled fell back asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

OoOoOoO

Several hours later, Yamcha opened his eyes as he was pulled out of his slumber again, thankfully this time it was because he was well-rested and not because someone moved him. Sunlight shined through the windows, and when Yamcha looked up to check the time, he was greeted with the neon numbers, now less-annoyingly bright, displaying 10:47 AM.

Yamcha turned himself slightly to look at Bulma again, thankful that she was still fast asleep, and gently pulled away as to not disturb her slumber. He sat up and stretched, letting out a content sigh as he stood up and headed to the bathroom.

It honestly felt strange to feel well-rested, especially after all the nights of being awoken by both Bulma coming to bed late and the blaring of her alarm, so it took Yamcha a moment or so to really adjust to it. Deciding that a shower could wait and instead opting to just wash his face, Yamcha exchanged his sweatpants and muscle shirt for a T-Shirt and a pair of jeans, and quietly snuck out of the room as to not risk disturbing Bulma, who was still in a deep slumber.

The ex-bandit headed downstairs into the kitchen, and after rummaging through the cabinets to find something to make for breakfast, he settled on the decision to make pancakes from scratch, pulling the ingredients needed out onto the counter and turning the stove on. After several minutes, just as he finished mixing the ingredients together and started pouring the batter into the pan, Yamcha nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a loud shout of, "What the hell?!" from upstairs.

He was ready to drop the pancake batter and bolt upstairs when he heard the sound of footsteps stomping down the stairs and in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, he was greeted with the sight of a vexed Bulma, still clad in her nightgown, storming up to him.

"Did you turn off my alarm?!" She practically yelled at him, blue eyes narrowed into a glare, and Yamcha quickly noticed that the circles beneath them weren't quite as dark as they were last night.

Once upon a time, Yamcha would've been intimidated by his wife's wrath, but after years of being with her, he was practically desensitized to this, which is probably the reason he automatically responded with, "Yes."

"You're an idiot!" Bulma snapped. "You know I have work to do!"

"Bulma, I'm not stupid," Yamcha said as he finished pouring a portion of the batter into a pan and placed the bowl on the counter. "For the last time, 'special projects' don't count as work! You need rest!" He knew that Bulma was like this, sometimes putting her passion above her own personal care, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't done the same before. But that didn't mean he was going to let Bulma slowly wear herself out.

Before she could respond, he continued with, "Can you just take some time off, even if it's only a day?" She paused to blink at him. Then, knowing it would work, he asked, "Please? For me?"

Blue eyes blinked at him, Yamcha seeing the irate beginning to vanish from her face. The two of them were always willing to do just about anything for each other. After a minute or so of considering this, Bulma finally sighed and her anger was replaced with a tender smile. Yamcha felt his cheeks turn pink at the sight, unable to stop himself from smiling back at her. He couldn't help it; she always looks so beautiful with a smile on her face.

"Fine," Bulma exhaled out. "One day, and that's it. Got it?" She crossed her arms over her chest, still smiling up at her husband.

"Got it," Yamcha confirmed. Sure, it was nothing more than just a start, but for now, that was good enough for him. Bulma didn't give him a verbal response, instead walking up to him and wrapped her arms around him, with Yamcha doing the same and the two of them closing the distance with a tender kiss.

They pulled apart after a moment or so, Yamcha continuing to make breakfast as the two of them talked, and pretty soon, the two of them were sitting at the table, plates piled high with pancakes topped with powdered sugar and strawberries.

"You wanna head to the Sakura Forest after breakfast?" Yamcha asked after a while, bringing his glass of milk to his mouth. "I think I read somewhere that the flowers are in full bloom this time of year."

Bulma grinned, remembering the beautiful little forest of cherry blossom trees that was hidden in the mountains from the rest of the world, a place where the two of them would go whenever they wanted privacy. "Of course," she said. "I'm gonna need to shower first, though," she paused for a moment to smirk at him from across the table. "But only if you'll join me."

That was the first time Yamcha ever had milk come out of his nose, and Bulma just laughed. Oh well, at least milk was easy to clean out.