Experiments

"Helloooooooo," called Dr. Briefs with a rickety wave of his arm. Vegeta stopped mid-step, towel slung over one shoulder, and glowered beneath his brows at the approaching man. There was an awkward pause as he reached the Saiyan, and when the older man saw he would not be returned a greeting, he coughed to stifle a nervous laugh. "I thought you might be interested in some lab work we're running today. You generally take Sunday afternoons off, yes?"

"Hn." Vegeta's stance widened.

"Er- right," the Doctor stammered, jerking a finger into his collar. "I've been thinking about that regeneration tank you're so fond of, and it's rather like a… a return to the womb, as it were - from the way you describe it."

Vegeta made no comment.

"A womb."

The Saiyan raised a brow in annoyance.

"You see, son, a womb is - "

"What the hell do you want?" Vegeta snarled as he began to walk towards the house, and Dr. Briefs scurried after him on his stumpy legs.

"I thought you might like to see some of the schematics I'm creating, and the test subject we're working with!"

Vegeta did pause, glancing to the older man. "That sounds… amenable." Sweat trickled down the doctor's face as a grin bloomed across his lips. Vegetal moved on, calling over his shoulder, "Half an hour, old man."

And so Dr. Briefs anxiously waited in the lab room with Mrs. Van Dyne, who rubbed the swell of her stomach gently and cooed at her unborn son while the doctor readied the full-body scanner. The moment the Saiyan entered the room he froze, unaccustomed to strangers in small spaces, but even less accustomed to strange Earth-women, and completely unknown to the territory of human pregnancy. He sent a panicked glance to the doctor.

"Ah, ahem, yes, this is Mrs. Van Dyne, and she has so graciously offered to let us do a full body scan of her for our research."

"Will she pop?" he blurted out, his raspy voice higher pitched than usual.

The woman laughed good-naturedly, and then abruptly stopped with a little O-shaped mouth. "Oh sorry, I get worried I might - you now - when I laugh too hard. He's sitting on my bladder pretty hard."

Vegeta made an audible retch and stepped back, one arm out to protect himself from the sight of this bizarre creature, but Dr. Briefs snapped the dapper shut behind him. "All perfectly normal, I assure you, my boy."

"I don't - what is - normal?" Vegeta gaped at the woman's swollen stomach, and she eyed him with a motherly sympathy.

"Don't worry, I work here at CC too. I know who you are, and I'm happy to let you in on a few earthly things," she said with a wink of a twinkling eye. "I'm about eight months along so I get questions from children allllllllllll the time."

He jerked his head towards the older man. "I am no CHILD," he hissed, shoulders tensing.

Dr. Briefs coughed. "Of course not, of course not, it's just that I thought you might like to see how - er - things - work here -"

"I DON'T WANT TO LOOK AT THIS DISGUSTING COW!" he bellowed, cheeks burning red as he wrenched the door off its hinges. Mrs. Van Dyne gasped, and Dr. Briefs urgently patted her hand while he called after the Saiyan, but Vegeta was gone within seconds.

"Well," he harrumphed in the following silence, "….that could have gone better."

By this point Vegeta was storming into the GR with a vengeance, annoyed at the world - annoyed at himself for being abysmally undeducated in the ways of the humans - annoyed at his curiosity - annoyed at the questions that kept popping up in his mind. He threw himself into a workout. Was that how Kakarrot's female looked carrying his child? Where did the child come out? Did Saiyans come out of the same places as humans? Obviously humans had the same parts as Saiyans - or did they? He couldn't remember Saiyan women particularly well. They wore armor like their counterparts. Did they have … breasts? What even were breasts for?

"Why - the - FUCK -" he yelled with strangled voice. These were questions he had kept at bay. There was no real reason for him to ask them.

Except.

That little voice in the back of his head that said The fool already has offspring. You are the Prince of your dead race. How can you let this be so?

Vegeta snarled at himself and pushed harder. There was nothing he could do about it.

There's definitely something you can do about it.

Ki crackled across his arms as he thought of the blue-haired woman, the memory of her scent, so foreign yet so powerful. He wondered if that's what had happened to Kakarrot. Had he wandered across that human in the woods and been bewitched by her scent? His nose wrinkled as he thought about it. He couldn't find the attraction in that one. She was… plain.

The Woman, as he referred to her, keeping her at arm's length even in his mind, was not plain. She was bright and… loud. Her screech could literally make his head ache. But he had heard her at other times speaking normally, and on occasion, softly, when he dozed in the common area and she passed by. He was not a fool - he found her diverting. She snatched his concentration away. But he wasn't interested in being near her, simply on the outside. Watching. She was not Like, but Other.

Suddenly he imagined that woman's stomach, but on the blue-haired girl. She was so tiny - she would fall over if she had that weight on her. Surely something like a Saiyan offspring would be the death of her.

But Vegeta felt his groin tighten as he imagined the ki that would emanate from her if she carried his son. Not like that cow in the lab. What had her mother said? She would… glow.

And suddenly he was mortified. He didn't want that track of thought running through his head. He had barely spoken ten sentences to her in the last month as it was, and none of them were particularly nice. You don't like failure… He had no idea what she considered him, past being a lab subject. She had called him something like 'cute' in the past, but it was always accompanied with a laugh. Laughter was a tool of derision where he came from, but these people used it differently. It made him feel completely stupid, out of the loop… Other, his inner voice mocked.

It was a week before he made any significant trips outside of the GR. The blonde woman brought him food and he slept in cat-like shifts until he could barely lift a finger. The scientist Tress had come by each night to record his schedule and take his vitals, but he had made no effort to see the face of either Briefs scientist. He couldn't bring himself to it. But by Friday, he was in serious need of rest and recuperation.

Bulma had, to the best of her abilities, kept away from the Saiyan and hoarded the information tress brought her with glee, and then in turn, wariness. He seemed to be in a rapid decline, and by Friday she found herself peeking into the GR to see his lithe form barely swinging above the floor. He was down to one bot, but it seemed to be giving him hell. It took her another thirty seconds of watching until her wariness turned into alarm. Swiftly she knocked open the emergency stop panel and shut the GR down from outside, the door gliding open as the alarm blared. She realized her heart was hammering and her blood singing through her ears as he appeared before her. Stop freaking out, you idiot!

Vegeta was on one knee, an elbow resting on his other as he glared up at her with bared teeth. "How - " he gasped, chest heaving as sweat glimmered across his skin, "How dare you interrupt my training?"

Bulma peered into the darkness around him at the broken bots. "Nah, I think you were just about done, buddy," she quipped, and blasé smile covering for her discomfort.

He stood with great effort and cursed under his breath as his legs shook. He hoped she wouldn't notice. Her was the LAST face he wanted to see - she'd been plaguing him for days now.

But she had noticed, and she cocked her head to eye his condition. "Let's head to the med wing, shall we? I'd like to monitor your vitals."

"Fuck you," he breathed, a stitch catching in his breath as he limped down the ramp to the main house.

Bulma, nonplussed, spun on her heel and followed. "Okay. So you're gonna shower first?"

He made no comment, and continued on as though alone. Bulma smiled. "Oh. Do you need help showering? I'll lend a hand but you'll owe me."

His neck shot around with a strangled snarl and she laughed. "Just kidding, geez. But I'm coming up there after with my equipment so get ready."

Bulma could hear him cursing her in a different tongue and she laughed again. Distantly, through his fatigue, he identified it as a tinkling noise, sharp but sweet, and he hated himself for liking it.

She turned away inside the house and he was left to his own devices, but she hadn't been kidding. He had just stepped into a pair of sweatpants when a knock came at his door. He ignored it, throwing himself onto his bed. Hunger gnawed at his stomach but he couldn't decide…

"HELLO?" she yelled as she entered, one hand covering her eyes. "I said are you decent?"

Irritated, Vegeta vaguely considered the question. "At what?"

"Ugh. Are you naked?"

He blushed. "No, you idiot. Leave me alone!"

Her smile was bright as she opened her eyes and looked him over. Immediately he tensed. Something was not right. Vegetal sat up, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Don't give me that look," she chirped as she threw her bag down on his side table, "I'm just here to take your vitals, not slit your throat. And yes, I know you'd kill me first if I tried, blah blah blah…" She unloaded her tools and sat on the bed next to his hip. He nearly jumped off the bed. "Whoa!" she laughed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of conciliation, "Chill out! I just need to put these electrodes on you!"

A blush had begun to creep over his cheeks. He knew what she was doing, it just… unnerved him. "Where is your father? Why isn't he doing this? Or one of his lackeys?"

Bulma was rummaging through her bag. "Well in the first place, he owns a multi-billion dollar company and shouldn't have to wait on you hand and foot. And secondly, you scare people. And thirdly, you've been holed up in that GR for a week and I'm afraid you'll try to kill someone or something with that temper of yours." Vegeta felt his mouth go dry as she turned to him, bright blue eyes glimmering in the fading light from the window. He was so tired, and she smelled so sweet… Her gaze held concern. "I've got a maid bot coming up here with food in a minute. You look half dead Vegeta."

"This is nothing," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment as the smell of battle and rotting corpse assailed his nose from memory. And truly, he was simply exhausted. Not even terribly wounded.

Bulma hoped he couldn't hear her pulse. Could he? Maybe. It was racing as she pulled the back off of an electrode. "Would you… lie back?" she asked, her voice cracking on the last note. There was a moment of hesitation before he acquiesced, head hitting the pillow with an audible thump of consternation.

Now was the moment. It wasn't necessary, but - she had never really touched him. Bulma reached out and placed one hand on his chest as though steadying herself. He was so warm. Firm. Her hand splayed out, reaching, for the tiniest second - and he knew. His eyes snapped open to bore into hers. That one movement betrayed her, and her eyes told him so. They widened, and the smile on her face faltered at his glance. She wasn't sure what to say, so instead she pretended, and grabbed the electrode, slapping it onto his chest next to her hand.

Vegeta's mind raced with questions as she went to work. He knew people. It was his gift. It kept him alive. He was very sure that she had wanted to feel him. He watched her with a masked face as she hooked up the machine. She had taken that chance to touch his skin, the way that he had so badly wanted to feel her hair many times before, but he didn't know what to make of that - didn't know what to make of her interest in him. He was sure she knew that he knew. Did that make some sort of truce? Did that mean he got one free touch on her as well?

As Bulma silently made notes, he considered. What would he touch? She had lots of things he wanted to touch, but hers, on the other hand, had been a basic one. So, perhaps, her skin as well. An even trade of curiosity. His eyes drifted down to her creamy thighs barely resting at his hip. He brought his hand up to scratch at an electrode and then, pulse thumping in his ears, let it fall short, his elbow hanging off the bed so that his hand drifted next to her thigh. Bulma's breath barely hitched as she felt the contact, her eyes blinking rapidly, and she paused mid-pen stroke. He could not bring himself to openly touch her with his fingertips, even though he ached to do so, but he concentrated all his thoughts upon the back of his hand that rested against her leg. She was a few degrees cooler than he, and the barest movement of his hand told him she was soft - so soft.

Bulma rapidly began writing again, determined to ignore the disturbance. Anxious butterflies erupted in her stomach as she ran the moment over in her head. His hand still burned against her skin, and she marveled that his barest touch felt more intimate than anything she and Yamacha had ever shared. But why wouldn't it? They were like children who had never seen the opposite sex, but… different. Right?

The monitor beeped and Bulma jumped up, glancing down at him. Face impassive, he stared back, and her mouth opened to say something - but she was interrupted by the arrival of the maid bot. Without a word she gathered her supplies and then, with only a moment's hesitation, leaned over and ripped the electrodes off of his chest. He snarled in annoyance, and she flashed him one of her signature bright smiles. "Well, see you tomorrow!" she said loudly, and she only tripped over herself once as she dashed out the door.

Vegeta stared after her, hand pressed against the spot she had occupied, feeling its warmth.