Hey all! Sorry it's been so long since my last update! The past few weeks have been crazy with finals and job searches. All was successful, though! Thanks for your patience I'll try and be more prompt in the future.

Disclaimer: Don't own!

VI.

Speed

Bulma leaned in the doorway of her home unit, arms crossed and perched on her large belly. She watched her alien husband as he cartwheeled back and forth across the lawn, punching and kicking at the air with such intent that it was easy to forget he was only training and not in the midst of a real fight. He stopped when he felt her gaze upon him, and immediately approached her, pausing only to collect his towel and water bottle from the ground.

"Don't stop on my account," the scientist insisted, grinning at the sweaty Vegeta as he stood before her.

"Woman, what are you doing?" he demanded, glaring at her.

"I'm not doing anything," Bulma replied innocently, shrugging her shoulders ever so softly that the essence of theatrics was almost undetectable.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes, unimpressed and undeceived by the act. "You know what I mean," he said through his teeth. At her most recent check-up, Bulma's doctor had suggested the expectant mother stay in bed for the remainder of the pregnancy. This, of course, was not the heiress's style; she had far too much company work and baby preparation to do to be confined to her home, much less her bed. Her unwillingness to comply, of course, did not sit well with the Saiyan Prince. "I will not have you bouncing about like an idiot all day, endangering both it and yourself."

"She and I," Bulma corrected with sassy authority, "will be just fine." Aside from being put on bed rest at the appointment, the doctor had also been able to identify the gender of the baby as female. While the beautiful scientist could not have been happier, she could tell her husband was uncomfortable with the development. His refusal to use feminine pronouns was just one of the many indicators of this.

"Hn," was Vegeta's only counter. He had learned several months ago not to argue with her in this state; it would inevitably trap him in a hormonal Hell which he wished very much to avoid during his training hours. He wiped the sweat from his forehead away with the back of his hand (despite the available towel slung over his shoulder), then took a drink of his water bottle. Noting his mate made no move to leave, but instead eyed him keenly, he grew suspicious. "What do you want?"

Bulma gave another, not-so-innocent shrug, and took a step closer to him, admiring his shirtless form. "Just wanted to see what you were…up to," she replied, tracing his pectorals with a seductive finger, which traveled south in a teasing lilt.

The Saiyan Prince blinked, then backed away, cheeks crimson. "Oh, you cannot be serious!" He shot, shaking his head.

"And why not!?" the scientist demanded, placing her hands on her hips, cheeks threatening to match her partner's. "Am I too ugly for you now, huh!? Too fat!? Because let me tell you, Mr. Bad Man, all of this speed training you do didn't really pay off where it mattered, did it!? Because this is your fault! Sure, fly around the world in less than a minute, but Kame forbid you pull out in time-"

"SHUT UP! We are not discussing this!" Vegeta put his hands over his ears, face now so red it looked as though his head were about to explode.

"Come on! I'm dying! You haven't touched me in weeks and what good is being bed ridden if I can't do what I do best in bed!" Bulma pleaded, now taking her husband's hand and pouting her lips in the way she knew he found irresistible.

"Vulgar woman," the Saiyan shot, avoiding any eye contact with his wife's beckoning mouth, "absolutely not! Look at you, you're going to burst at any moment! I'm quite certain what you're asking would kill the both of you in your condition. Now get a hold of yourself!"

"Easy for you to say," the blue-haired genius grumbled, releasing Vegeta's hand and relenting. "I'd feel better if I could spend all day working out, too."

The Saiyan opened his mouth to correct his mate; she knew he did not like his training to be referred to by the stupid Earth phrase "working out." However, he stopped himself. She looked so tired, like their exchange had drained whatever energy she had stored for the day. His posture and tone softened slightly. "Rest, woman," he instructed, "if not for yourself, for the girl."

Bulma smirked. "You actually admitted it's a girl," she noted, leaning back against the wall.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. For a genius, his wife sure spent a lot of time stating the obvious.