Outside the sun was rising, and shimmers of pink and gold glistened across the sky. Bulma sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window beside her. She sipped some tea as she watched it the colorful sunrise, her eyes still heavy from the argument she'd had with Yamcha earlier. To be truthful, it was 6 in the morning. Her fight had occurred the evening before, but she hadn't slept a wink since. It was bad enough that Yamcha was one of the most financially irresponsible people she'd ever met. It seemed that all they did lately was argue about this unstable factor in his life. His money issues were one thing – but to make matters worse, he had brought "Her" up again. Just to drive the emotional knife in a little deeper. Just as he always did when he felt cornered during one of their fights.

Her…

She was a blonde. With hair long enough to reach her hips, shirts short enough to sport her pierced navel, and calves toned enough to catch the eye of an unsuspecting man who happened to cross her seductive trail. And she certainly had caught Yamcha's attention, that was for sure… Her name was Ikuko, and the story was that Yamcha had met her at one of his baseball games. At least, that was what he told Bulma. The Bluehead couldn't be completely sure of that – she hadn't been on speaking terms with the Z-Fighter at the time. And it certainly had come to Bulma's surprise when the two got back together a week later, only for him to confess he had taken another girl out during their break. Yamcha had insisted that it had just been a dinner date, and nothing more. According to him, nothing "inappropriate" had happened between them. He claimed to not even have feelings for Blondie!

Why, then, was he so quick to bring her up during their fights? If he didn't care about Blondie at all, why was it that he would use her as some sort of weapon to jab Bulma with? He would do it when the Bluehead had made an exceptionally good point, and he had no other means of comeback. And judging off of the things he'd said, Blondie was younger than Bulma. Apparently, Blondie also laughed at all Yamcha's jokes (even the stupid ones), found his faults to be 'cute', didn't have a problem with his financial situation, and overall seemed to just understand what it meant to "let loose".

Bulma knew he said it simply to upset her – to make her jealous. But she also knew that it was a way of fighting dirty, and it wasn't right. It wasn't right that he could so carelessly drop these bombs on her. He'd leave her then, alone in an unresolved cloud of insecurity, incredulous jealousy, and anger. So many emotions welled up inside, and she had nobody she could direct them at. After all, Yamcha had stormed off…

It just wasn't fair…

She took another sip of her tea, staring pensively out the window beside her. By now the sun had nearly completely risen. She eyed the pink hues in the sky, noting how orange seemed to glisten from the clouds as the sunlight hit it from a specific angle. And she was starting to think once again about the ordeals from the night before, when she heard someone walking in through the kitchen door. Bulma looked up groggily to see Vegeta going straight for the refrigerator.

The Saiyan had been residing in her home for a little over three months by now, and he had made a point of keeping to himself for the majority of that time. Regardless, Bulma had enjoyed his stay. He was bratty, he was strict, and he was quick to raise his voice. But he was essentially harmless, and she knew it. He spewed threats as if they were his native language. He told barbaric tales about past battles with pride.

Yet Bulma had never particularly felt unsafe when she was near him. In fact, when he spoke these things, she couldn't help but think that Vegeta only detailed the brutality of it all in order to get his way. And how was she to know that the actions he boasted about were of his own will, and not by reign of Frieza? If this saiyan was so ruthless, then why had he never so much as stepped on one of her toes during their spats? If he made no hesitation in "inflicting a painful death" upon those who opposed him, why did he not do the same to her? Why was it that, when he wasn't bellowing orders or making violent threats, he almost seemed timid?

In fact, when she wasn't trying to establish boundaries and arguing with him, Bulma found his presence to be oddly calming. She loved when they happened to have meals at the same time. She would eat her food silently, watching him from across the table as he coolly scowled at his plate. His chiseled features would flex when his expressions changed, and she found it so endearing. There was a life behind those dark eyes of his. A soul that had seen and encountered more than she could even begin to fathom. A wise ego that seemed to be processing everything around him at an alarming rate, and with his wisdom, she wanted to know just what he was thinking at any given time.

He really was a fascinating creature.

And, despite his temper, Vegeta had exhibited a scale of understanding on human interaction that not even Yamcha seemed to comprehend. Truth be told, Bulma found that she preferred spending time around Vegeta much more than she enjoyed being with Yamcha these days. There was much more depth in that saiyan's mind. And she was starting to really enjoy the wit that lingered behind even the most hostile of his remarks. After all, the saiyan had been the one to point out that her tears were wasted when they were shed over the Yamcha, hadn't he?

'No', Bulma thought. There really was no way that this Saiyan was anywhere near as bad as everyone else had made it seem. He was misunderstood, perhaps, but he certainly wasn't bad…

The Bluehead was so consumed by her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed as Vegeta walked up to her. And she jumped when he spoke her name to get her attention.

"Woman."

Well, that really wasn't her name, to be fair. But it seemed that this was the closest he would get to saying it. No matter how much she corrected him – which often times lead to a yelling match between the two – Vegeta was stubbornly set on referring to her with the W word. Bulma suspected that this was his subtle way of trying to establish dominance. But she refused to let it happen to easily. She did have a name, and she was determined to get him to use it. Which one of them would win in the end, she wondered?

"My name is Bulma." She said, but she didn't push it this morning. Her recent thoughts left her without caring too much this time. She was actually secretly glad that he had walked in on her. She was no longer feeling quite so alone.

"Whatever. Prepare a meal for me. The blonde woman appears to be sleeping late this morning." Vegeta had his chest puffed out, looking away to avoid eye contact.

"That blonde one you're speaking of is my mother." Bulma's eyebrows lowered irritably. "And we're doing enough in letting you stay here. We feed you as a kind gesture – not because we have to. We don't owe you anything." She was slightly heated now, having recently developed a distaste for the word 'blonde'. Despite the offense she had taken, there was no fire in her tone. She was much too tired for that.

"For allowing you to live, as I have, you owe me everything." Vegeta corrected. "Now cease your wallowing over that flea and get me something to eat. That's an order."

The Bluehead was taken aback by this observation. It had been hours since she had stopped crying. Was it really that obvious that she had been brooding over Yamcha? She stood from the table and went for the fridge, pulling out a large pot of leftover meat from the night before. Vegeta planted himself at the table, grumpily watching the Bluehead as she worked at the counter. She was moving painfully slow, filling three plates with food before popping the first one into the microwave. Her ki signature had been exceptionally weak that morning – much more than he was accustomed to. It seemed that she was low on energy. Had she even slept at all? She must have stayed up all night because of that rat! Was she really that much of a fool?

Wait a minute – what did he even care?!

Bulma placed the three plates in front of the Saiyan before she returned to her own seat across from him. Vegeta immediately looked down at his plate, feeling her eyes on him as she sat. This wasn't new. Each time they were both sitting at the table he would feel her pupils focusing on him. Watching him. It seemed to be her favorite pass time during meals, and he thought it to be rather bizarre. What was with her? It was bordering creepy. He focused on his food, careful not to look up at her. And when he finished his first plate he pushed it away, making room for the second one. The sensation of being watched so closely was starting to irritate him. "What is it?" He hissed, finally looking up to meet her eyes.

She had been resting her cheek in one of her palms, staring woefully as if lost in thought. And perhaps she really was. Her eyes were glazed over, her cheeks pale in color. She looked like one of those creepy glass dolls that the Blonde Woman kept in one of her rooms. It was making the Prince of Saiyans quite uncomfortable. The Bluehead's presence always made him uncomfortable. Why was she always doing this to him?

Her energy still felt quite low. Her eyelids looked heavy, starting to droop over her bloodshot eyes. As if lost in a dream. Perhaps she was dozing off with her eyes open? Nodding off… Even as she watched him eat? What? Whatever the hell it was that she was doing, it was a bit more than disturbing - more than Vegeta would ever like to admit about that Blue scientist woman. "Are you going to eat?" He awkwardly grumbled, narrowing his eyes. This seemed to take her by surprise, for she sat up straighter, a slight bit of light jolting back into her eyes. Not that Vegeta had been looking into them, of course…

"You want me to eat?" She asked, as if to confirm that she could understand basic English.

Vegeta furrowed his brows. "I want to train – to improve my already perfect strength. I want to obtain the ability to transition into a Super Saiyan, and I want to destroy Kakarot the next time I see him. The only thing you need concern yourself with about what I want is your duty to make that ship less faulty and design some adequate bots. If you have uncovered a way to acquire sufficient mental energy for those tasks without sleeping or consuming food, I'd like to know about it." Bulma stared blankly at him as he spoke. When Vegeta finished with his tirade she appeared to be trying to decide whether she should take offense from his words. Looking somewhat confused, she stood to fetch herself a plate of her own. Vegeta was just starting on his third plate when she slid back into the seat across from him. "It's stupid to do, anyway." He muttered, knowing she was now within earshot.

"What's stupid?" She replied. Clearly, she was still out of it.

"Feigning over such a twit when your life depends on other things. Tell me, do all Earth beings lack any survival instincts whatsoever, or are you just a special case?"

Bulma bit her lip. It was odd, but she actually agreed with what he said. How could she argue with him, really? He had worded it differently, but there really was more to life than Yamcha… So why was she so beside herself about him? She smiled softly, picking up her fork and starting to slowly pick at her plate. She was feeling slightly better as she swallowed down her first bite.

The two finished their meals in an uncomfortable silence. Vegeta focused intently on each bite, trying to distract himself from the loopy girl sitting across from him. The sooner he finished this plate, the quicker he could get the hell out of there! He could feel her ki rising with each passing moment, but it still was quite dull compared to what he was used to.

Not that he cared, or anything…

But still, she was really freaking him out! He could feel that her eyes were planted on him again. From her earlier reaction, he could be sure that there was a smile spread across her face, too. He hated it when she smiled at him – hated it! He loathed the way it made his chest turn. Pushing back his plate, Vegeta was happy to finally be done. He was about to stand up and throw himself for the door when Bulma spoke.

"Vegeta?" She said. Soft. Lethargic. Her voice was breathless and sad.

He looked up at her, his mouth pursed in a tight frown. Perhaps she was now well enough to update him on the status of the latest bot? Who was he kidding – that was too much to hope for.

"Thanks." Her voice rang melancholy, yet she had that damned smile on her face – again!

Gratitude? For what? What the hell did that even mean? Why was she looking at him like that?! Why were her eyes so glossy all over again? Shouldn't she be feeling better after eating? What the hell was going on!

The tongue in Vegeta's mouth was suddenly dry. Nausea was starting to brew in the pit of his stomach. She needed to stop looking at him like that – to cease with that bizarre expression on her face. And he needed to get the hell out of there – before he lost his breakfast all over the marble floor! Damn – why was his stomach curling so tightly? He hated it – he hated it!

Completely at a loss of words, the only thing the Saiyan could think to say was "okay", with a gulp. She was staring straight into his eyes, and he felt so ill that he could hardly find the strength to break his look away. Why couldn't she simply cower at his feet like everyone else did – to beg him for mercy? What was with this woman?! Was she broken? Never before had he ever been on such edge because of a mere female!

"Last night Yamcha and I decided to take a break." She was explaining, even though Vegeta hadn't asked.

Break… Evidently, this was another one of those Earth words that had several meanings depending on context. Vegeta took a few moments to consider what she said, and slowly he opened his mouth. "So… you… you and him have ruptured ties." It was a question, though it came out as a command.

"Yes. That means I'll have more time to spend on my projects now." She let out a deep sigh. And, finally, she broke eye contact with him to look back down at her plate, prodding it with a fork thoughtfully.

"Okay." Vegeta gulped again, unsure of what she was expecting him to say. He took this as his opportunity to leave, and he made no hesitation in rising from his seat. "I expect my new bot to be completed by tomorrow, then." With that, he ran for the door. He needed to get out of there. He needed to get back into the ship! Still feeling ill, he had to find a quiet place to calm his stomach. Why the hell did he feel so amused at hearing this news about the two? Bulma was much too smart for that rodent – the Saiyan was surprised it had taken as long as it did for her to finally cast him away!

But... why did he even care?

What the hell was going on?!

'No!' Vegeta thought, shaking his head as he entered the ship. He was going to have to increase gravity by double that morning. He'd have to train harder than ever before to get her off his mind. He didn't care about her! All he needed to concern himself with was training! He really didn't care what she did, or who she did it with. She could do whatever she wanted!

Just as long as it wasn't with Yamcha.

Just as long as it was with anyone but him!