A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my first five reviewers! I must say though, I feel muscled into this one!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragonball Z. But I do own a Vegeta walkie-talkie. This is just as good.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
It was only two in the afternoon, but Bulma was tired already. Her arms ached from hammering and her feet hurt from standing. She was very happy to see her mother approaching with a plastic tray in her arms.
"I brought the two of you some lemonade," her mother called from across the patio, setting the tray on one of the Brief's long wooden picnic tables. "It's awfully hot out here today, isn't it?"
Her mother was right, but Bulma, who wanted nothing more than to take a break, decided against it. This gravity room wasn't going to rebuild itself.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"I've never seen you work so hard," commented her father as he joined her on the other side.
"I've never had so much motivation," Bulma replied cheerfully, swinging her arm back to hit another nail and then releasing it to hear one more satisfying bang.
She then showed the instrument to her father.
"You see dad… this is the hammer."
Her father raised a brow.
Bulma reached down and scooped up a handful of nails from the box near her feet. She delicately placed one onto the wood.
"And this… is Vegeta's face!"
And she pounded at the wood with such furious intent that her father actually leapt out of her way, stumbling.
"Take this!" she was shouting. "And this! And this! And this and this and this and this!"
Her arms gave out after a time and Bulma stepped backwards, panting as she tried to catch her breath.
"Dear, why don't you go and take a nap?" suggested her father after a few moments silence.
Bulma suddenly regained her composure. She placed both hands on her hips. "No way, dad. I said I'd help and that's what I'm going to do!"
Her father glanced at her mother, who shrugged in response. He then gently grabbed her shoulder.
"I think it's in your best interest to… well, sleep off whatever this is."
"And take some medication sweetheart," her mother said concernedly, leading Bulma into the patio and through the backdoor.
Knowing that her psychotic episode had lost her the opportunity to finish her work, Bulma gave in. Besides, it would be nice to be able to relax for once.
Her legs dragging, she climbed up the flight of steps leading to the second-floor bathroom. She pulled open the door and undressed immediately, placing her smelly clothes in a pile near the door.
"And just what do you think you're doing?"
Bulma screamed from surprise and tried to cover herself. Unfortunately, all she managed to do was slip and fall backwards into the tiled shower. Fuzzy dots appeared in front of her eyes.
"I'm attempting to shower!" Vegeta declared angrily, standing in front of the tub where she lay completely exposed.
Bulma whipped the curtain around her, breathing heavily.
"Y-you jerk!" she stammered, trying to stand and failing. "You could have told me that before I got undressed!"
"Then what would be in it for me?" he asked in a way that let the fallen woman know he was amused.
Bulma let out a growl and finally got to her feet, her back throbbing in pain. "Some prince you are! Lounging around here for cheap thrills!"
She groaned and placed both hands on her back, trying to still the pain.
"The least you could do is toss me a towel," Bulma said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"And why would I do that?" Vegeta asked her through the curtain.
Bulma prepared to throw back the curtain when she realized that her hands were becoming very warm. Looking down, she let out a shriek.
"What is it now?" Vegeta asked with a hint of impatience. He was less than warm in just his training shorts.
The blue-haired demon he shared living space with did not respond.
Vegeta growled, leaning against the sink. "This isn't funny woman. What is it?"
There was movement on the other side of the curtain. "I-I'm bleeding," Bulma said, her voice echoing from the tub. "I think I cut myself when I fell."
There was hesitation in her voice as she continued. "Vegeta?"
He grunted.
"Could you lift me to my bed?"
Vegeta snorted. "I will do no such thing, woman."
Bulma sniffed. "Vegeta," she whined. "Please! I can't walk!"
The Saiyan prince considered walking out of the bathroom and leaving her there to waste away in the bathtub.
"No."
"I won't shut-up until you do this for me," she said with a tone Vegeta did not like. "You know I won't."
Regrettably he did. The two of them had shared exchanges like this before.
"Fine," Vegeta said gruffly. "But on my terms."
The voice inside of the shower sighed. "And what terms are those?
"Firstly, cover yourself. You're disgusting."
"HEY!"
"Secondly," Vegeta continued as though she had not spoken, "you are not to mention this to anyone. Not to Kakarot, not to his harpy, and certainly not to him."
"Kami, Vegeta," Bulma wailed, pounding the floor with her fists. "I'm dying and all you care about is yourself! Get me out of here!"
"Thirdly," Vegeta said, feeling his lips pull into a smirk. "You will refer to me as Prince Vegeta whilst I am carrying you. Is that understood?"
"You have got to be kidding me."
Vegeta growled and Bulma exhaled deeply.
"You have got to be kidding me, Prince Vegeta," the woman rephrased edgily.
Vegeta grabbed a towel and tossed it to her. "That will suffice."
"This is barbaric," Bulma said, grimacing when Vegeta tossed her over his shoulder.
His hand, which had been placed on the "open door" switch, froze.
"Prince Vegeta," she said through clenched teeth, and his hand began to work again. "This is barbaric!"
"Shut up."
Bulma did not like being manhandled, nor did she like being told to shut up. But because she wanted to get to her room without an argument, she decided to do as she was told.
By the time he had reached her room, Bulma had actually found a comfortable spot on Vegeta's back on which to rest her head.
"Don't touch me," he shot at her, kicking her door open and dropping her carelessly onto her bed.
Bulma settled back in her fuzzy pink comforters. "You could have done that nicely," she exclaimed, wincing when her back gave another throb.
"It could have been worse," he said to her, glancing around her room. He looked sour. "Where do you keep your bandages?"
Bulma smiled at him and sat up. "Was that concern?"
"Not on your life, woman."
She rolled her eyes. "Could you at least hand them to me so I don't have to get up?"
Vegeta glared at her. "And then you'll shut up."
Bulma was beginning to wish she had never promised to do so. "Yes, Vegeta."
He gave her a suspicious once over as if he were some sort of lie-detector. She must have passed his inspection because he narrowed his eyes. "Where are they?"
"In that drawer over there,"she answered, trying to hide her smile when he complied.
He found the gauze and gave it to her with another once over. Then he turned to leave.
Vegeta was halfway out the door when she called his name. Bulma watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Clearly she was trying his patience.
"Thanks," she whispered.