A/N: Don't shoot me! It's up! It's up!

Disclaimer: I own this cute digital clock that read '5:23' when I started, and now reads '8:50'. Uh... so much for homework!

The lab was empty. Bulma turned the droid over in her hands for the fiftieth time. She had yet to give to Vegeta, even though her father had been pestering her about it for the last few days.

Almost as much as he had been pestering her about her revived smoking habit. His nagging really made no sense to the young woman at all, especially since the doctor smoked three times as much as she did.

Beep.

"Bulma?"

Overhead a giant plasma screen descended from the ceiling. Her father's blue eyes, giant from his glasses, stared down at her.

"Are you almost finished, dear?"

Bulma stuck her thumb in the air and made a face that could not be mistaken for anything but unpleasant. "Nothing left to do now except interrupt Vegeta."

Her father should have been wary of this information, considering how temperamental the Saiyan became whenever someone dared to 'interrupt his training regime'. Unfortunately for Bulma, who had no desire to see Vegeta whatsoever, Dr. Brief grinned instead.

"That's fantastic! Let me know how it goes!"

The screen zipped to black and disappeared into the ceiling.

"I'm going to miss you," Bulma said as she pressed the bot close to her chest and nuzzled it with her cheek. "You've kept me sane."

Almost as sane as those fresh, unopened packs of cigarettes in her top drawer did. Bulma forced herself to snap out of it. Her cravings had been getting a lot worse lately. It was unlikely she would ever quit smoking again if she could help it.

Still holding Vegeta's 'present', Bulma exited the lab and made her way to the spacious backyard. The humming she heard immediately upon setting foot on the grass confirmed that Vegeta was inside of the Gravity Room. She encapsulated the droid and began her usual routine in order to gain entry.

"VEGETA!"

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Bulma pounded furiously on the door. She didn't even bother knocking anymore. There were only two ways to get inside the GR: blowing it up, or irritating Vegeta.

"LET ME IN RIGHT NOW!"

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Just as she was about to spew an entire string of curse words, the door began to lower. Marching up the steps that unfolded in front of her, Bulma entered the chamber.

Vegeta was standing to the side, leaning against one of the small windows, his arms folded stiffly across his naked chest. He did not look pleased to see her.

Bulma walked nearer to him and pulled out the tiny silver capsule. She wasn't smiling either.

"Well? Do you want it or not?"

He scowled. "I don't have time for your silly antics, woman. If you aren't going to show it to me then you may as well leave."

Taken back by his shortness with her, Bulma thought about doing just that. She had been having a lot less patience with him lately. If he wasn't going to be grateful, what was the point in breaking her back to provide him with equipment he'd destroy anyway?

No point at all really, thought Bulma, looking around. He probably doesn't even use it.

Come to think of it, with the white fluorescent lighting beaming in from every inch of the ceiling, it didn't even look as though he had been training at all.

She ran a hand through her hair, taking everything in. "Jeez Vegeta, what have you been doing in here all day, huh? Reading?"

Vegeta's cool demeanor instantly changed. He became visibly irritated. "It's none of your business what I do in here. Now are you going to show me what you have or aren't you?"

"Take it easy, alright?" Bulma dropped the capsule on the ground. "Oh, and don't thank me or anything. I'm trying to live past forty and appreciation at this point might give me a heart attack."

A small puff of gray smoke enveloped the two briefly. When it had cleared, the highly polished droid that Bulma and her father had built stood between the two of them. It shone like crystal in the overhead light and Bulma, despite having seen her work so many times before, was overcome by how amazing she was.

"Will you get a look at this thing?" she asked, reaching down and patting it on its head as though it were a pet. "The craftsmanship is unbelievable."

Vegeta said nothing.

Bulma stood up and placed both her hands on her hips. "Well? What do you think, Vegeta? It's not like I spent three weeks making this for myself!"

At that, Vegeta seemed to finally come to life. He stood straight and without asking first, snatched away the droid. His eyes inspected every inch of the machine.

"It's suitable."

As though she had expected to hear anything more. Growling through clenched teeth, Bulma struggled to keep her temper.

"It's better than suitable. That bot can withstand 500g, which is more than I can say for somebody…."

The meaning of that sentence went undisguised. Vegeta scowled at her, the muscles in his face tightening as he too seemed to struggle with his temper.

She gave him her smuggest look. "Besides, I don't know what's so difficult about 500g anyway. Shouldn't that be easy for the great Prince of all Saiyans?"

"Well, we'll just have to see about that. Won't we?"

Bulma, who hadn't expected the silent Vegeta to reply, lifted her nose in the air. "Oh yeah? How? By blowing up the Gravity Room again? Because if that's what you mean, then I suppose you're right. We will see." She began to walk near the exit. She never made it.

In the time it had taken her to lift one foot, Vegeta had walked towards the middle of the room where a metal pole stood. He pressed a single button on its outer control panel and a surprised Bulma nearly fell to the ground; it was as if a giant magnet were pulling her toward earth.

"That's 2g."

Bulma put a hand up to stop the smirking prince right as his index pressed another button.

She slammed into the ground.

"And that's 5g."

The young scientist tried to lift her head from the white tiling, but was unable to. For that matter, she was hardly able to breathe, the pressure was crushing her. "Ass…asshole…" she struggled to get out.

She heard her captor's white boots walking across the floor. Then she saw them, vaguely, as she desperately managed to keep her eyelids open.

"Which is?"

Bulma tried to sit up, to show Vegeta that she wasn't weak. Yet she wasn't able to lift a finger. Her body was beginning to become one with the floor.

"5 times earth's gravity," Vegeta answered for her, sounding amused. He stepped out of Bulma's vision and a few seconds later, all the pressure was lifted from the woman's body.

Bulma stood up shakily, feeling dizzy and sore. She rubbed her head, hoping the headache she had would go away so that the shouting she was about to do would not increase the pain.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, VEGETA? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!" she yelled at him as he took a casual lean against the control panel.

Disoriented and slightly woozy, Bulma did not hear his remark. Instead she lunged for what her blurry eyesight assumed was him.

Nails out she came for him, like that damned cat the old man refused to put down.

"Get off of me!" was the only phrase he could get out before one of her nails attached itself to his eyelid and pulled down. A small drop of blood rolled onto his eyelash and into his vision.

Had this pathetically weak woman made him bleed?

Perhaps by habit, or by a Saiyan nature he had long since lost control to, Vegeta seized both of her arms in his and slammed her against the chamber wall. And in that moment, as she kicked and flailed against him, screamed and shouted obscenities at him, he wanted nothing more than to take her right there, to do exactly what he had been thinking about doing since he had first spotted her.

The primal urge within him was so strong that for an instant he feared he would do exactly that, with or without the woman's approval. So he released her, though one of his hands remained firmly at her throat.

"Never," he said as he glared into her blue eyes, "strike me again."

Her arms bare beneath her torn lab coat, Bulma returned the glare. "You deserved it, you dumb jerk!" She struggled vainly in his grip. "Let me go. Vegeta!"

I'm trying to, you idiot woman!

Vegeta narrowed his eyes, barring his teeth. How could he preserve his forbidding demeanor when even his own thoughts had mutinied against him? He could hardly stand to look at her.

"Earth to Vegeta! Hello? Are you okay?"

He mistakenly looked into her eyes, permitting himself to be drawn in, however fleetingly. He could see his reflection, the same as it had always been; no possible means to determine the chaos running through his head.

"I'm fine," he snapped, unsure how her mood could change so quickly. She was the strangest person he had ever encountered by all means. "Stop asking me questions."

And damn him! When she began to shout at him again he could not focus his attention. He could not hear what he could only assume were profanities, only see the bright red of her lipstick stained mouth, the subtle flaring of her nostrils, tiny, curled eyelashes…

"…SELF-CENTERED ASS! ALL I EVER TRY TO DO IS HELP YOU AND-"

Her hair was tangled and swept to one side, covering one of her cheeks, which showed the pink imprint of a tile. He could have her if he wanted to… grab her hair in his hands, crush her cheeks with his fingers….

"AND FURTHERMORE!"

She should have been a Saiyan, Vegeta acknowledged. Conceivably he would feel less ignominy, less disgust with himself for his clear penchant for the earthling woman who was now trying to bite him.

"ENOUGH!"

This time it was Vegeta whose voice had risen. Looking slightly fearful, Bulma made no noise except that of her shoe scuffing the wall as she tried to back away unsuccessfully.

His chest expanded unnaturally and he realized he was finished trying to fight. He was the Prince. His actions were of no consequence. The stupid woman meant nothing to him. So be it.

"V-Vegeta?"

He finally dropped his right arm, let her go. He had to, for his own sake.

One of her hands found its way to his chest, her fingers traveling in a straight line up the ridges in his shirt. An odd behavior that Vegeta chose not to respond to.

"I wish you'd just tell me what the hell is wrong with you instead of making me guess all the damned time," said the woman with a hint of impatience. "I mean, come on. This tough guy routine is so played out."

He scowled at her. "What are you talking about, woman?"

"That is what I'm talking about." She crossed her arms against her chest. "You avoiding every thing. I haven't seen you in days. And before that it was weeks!"

"I have training to do," was his short reply. "You're a distraction. Easily disposable, but a distraction nonetheless."

She raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "And you're an egotistical bastard but that doesn't stop me."

He growled. "Obviously."

The woman began to look irritated. "If you don't want my help, Vegeta-," she began but he cut her off.

"-I don't."

"Then," she continued as though he had not interrupted, "I'm not going to waste my time here."

Bulma stood near the exit, one hand balled in a fist placed firmly at her hip. "This is your last chance."

He arched his brow.

"I'm leaving!" she threatened loudly. She pointed her free hand towards the doorway. "I'm going down those steps and not coming back!"

He turned from her.

"Good."

"I'm telling you, Vegeta! Once I'm gone I'm not coming back!"

She waited for a response. When the silence persisted, Bulma pressed the door release button. She was on the first step when he finally replied.

"Wait."

Bulma turned instantaneously, feeling her neck crack. "Yes?" she asked breathlessly.

"Bring me something to eat."

While she stood there, taken back as her mouth dropped open, Vegeta looked at her expectantly.

"Would you like some help, woman?"

Before Bulma could respond, Vegeta had outstretched a hand and attached it to her back. She turned around and grabbed the hand, accidentally tripping over herself in her haste and falling into Vegeta.

"Stupid woman," she heard him mutter as she gathered herself.

"Asshole," Bulma retorted for the umpteenth time that hour.

And as she pulled herself to her feet, she looked upwards into his face. He was looking back at her, his brow furrowed. Something flittered in her stomach.

Bulma stared at him, caught herself in his sweltering gaze.

"Your eyes…" she said quietly, "they're brown."

Vegeta's upper lip curled with the news. "Of course they are."

That wasn't the only thing she had noticed. His bottom lip was fuller than his upper lip. And though she made it a point to ridicule his height when they argued, when she was this close to him, he was definitely taller than her. And his bottom lip was so much fuller….

For a moment Bulma found it difficult to pull it together. How could it be that a moment ago she had wanted to strangle Vegeta, and now was entertaining the idea of letting go of all resolve?

It would be nice to kiss him.

Bulma chuckled softly.

If he wouldn't kill me for it.

He wouldn't hurt a hair on her head, though the slam into the wall earlier was certainly going to leave bruises. Bulma had no doubt that Vegeta had some sort of tolerance for her. After all, she was alive.

She swept her eyes over him. Over his cocked head. His pounding chest. His lean torso, covered by clothing she wished were not there. She swept over his clenched hands, long fingers tightened into a ball, pressing into his palms.

Oh Kami. That bottom lip.

If all else fails… fuck it.

Bulma was never just all talk. She reached for his neck and pulled his head down forcefully, not caring that he may reject or resist. She pressed her mouth on his so hard that her lips instantly swelled, became sore.

Vegeta wasn't kissing her back and both of his arms had risen at his side awkwardly, as though he were about to push her away from him. Bulma parted her lips enough to place his bottom one between her teeth. He was so warm, so soft….

The arms folded slowly around her, pulling her so close to him she could feel his heartbeat drumming loudly in his chest, almost in sync with her own.

His lips finally responded, a low guttural sound escaping his throat. Bulma could tell, in that instant, that he had wanted this too. It only made her more sure of her actions, as scary and spontaneous as they were. Vegeta too seemed far more secure and there was no hesitance as he used his hands to grab at her waist, her thighs, her arms.

Who would've thought he was such a good kisser? Much better than her dreams. She would never sleep again.

"Vegeta," Bulma breathed, tilting her head so that he dove at her neck. "The d-door…."

Without pause, he outstretched an arm and punched the door close button. As the stairs began to ascend, Bulma pulled away, gasping for air.

"Vegeta… let's go to my room…." She tried to say between hot kisses.

"No," he said firmly, not taking his lips from her skin. "… Here."