The stars were finally fading behind her eyes as she heaved against his chest. The space between them felt sticky with sweat and heat, and she lay above him, her heavy head nestled in the dip of his shoulder. His breaths were slowing now and she smiled placidly as she made out his heart beating furiously in its cage beneath her.

She imagined today must've been a good day for him. He had little complaint throughout the afternoon – she actually couldn't remember talking to him much that day - and he had come to her room that night without a scowl or the typical frown and, better yet, without that determination to violently dominate that came attached to his bottled fury.

No, Vegeta had not sought her as an outlet for his anger. It stirred something in her belly when she suddenly considered that he may be finding it comfortable here, at last.

Tipping her face up, she rested her chin on the arc of his shoulder blade. His face was set, his eyes shut against the world as he drew in slow, calming breaths. Bulma dared not smile when looking upon him – it always seemed to make him edgy or anxious when he caught her looking (and he always caught her) and god forbid she ruin such a perfectly peaceful moment, for either of them. In this rare instant, she greedily took in his resting features, and her muscles trembled as her lips began to slide apart in open appreciation.

Good god, but he was a gorgeous man.

Undoubtedly feeling the shift in the air of the room, Vegeta cracked an eye open to find himself under the woman's careful inspection. Those infinitely blue eyes were swooping over his neck and collar, her fingers unconsciously splaying out over his chest as if to gain better leverage in her examination of him. Her fascination was simultaneously amusing and irritating; he knew he should shake her off with some brusque movement and gruff statement, and yet her delicate brow and her parted lips were engaging and encouraging him in his own silent assessment of the woman spread out over him.

He felt her knees shift around his hips and her eyes glided up to his face, only to find him staring back in patient interest. Bulma blushed a brilliant fuchsia, her hand smacking reprovingly over his pec. "You were staring!" She hissed, obviously embarrassed to have been caught. His smirk caught her off-guard, as well as his hands as they curved over her hips and pushed, moving her into a sitting position astride him.

"You should not be reprimanding me, onna," Vegeta warned her with a gradually arched eyebrow. His shoulders shrugged underneath her hands as she propped herself up over him. "Not that your admiration of me is unwarranted, but—"

Bulma gasped on an airy laugh, amused with his mild (if not playful?) narcissism. "My, my, Vegeta. You're certainly full of yourself, aren't you?"

"That makes two of us then, doesn't it?"

The woman screwed up her face in disgust at his suggestive taunt and she dropped her body to the right of him, falling beside him on the great mattress as her legs twisted about his own. Rising from the bed, Vegeta detached himself from their tangled lower limbs, and he padded wordlessly across to the bathroom. Bulma remained stretched out atop the crumpled blankets and sheets, her gaze wandering over the mundane items that littered her room. The water began to sound from the faucet and she allowed herself to be lulled by the noise.

Vegeta tilted his head to the side as he heard her abrupt gasp, and she called his name. The rustling of sheets signaled she had unwound herself from the bedding, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation for what was to come. At once, she appeared in the mirror, and Vegeta leveled an annoyed glare at her reflected visage. "What is it now?"

"I just remembered, tomorrow is Gohan-chan's birthday party," she began, trying valiantly to ignore the Saiyan's rising displeasure. "I thought it might be nice if—"

"—If you are suggesting—"

"—You go with Trunks-chan and I," Bulma finished over him with a half-grin. "C'mon, Vegeta. You haven't seen any of those guys in so long."

"Don't you think there's a reason for that, onna?" Vegeta grumbled as he splashed a palmful of water into his face in attempt to alleviate the heat burning inside him. When he looked back up to the mirror, he registered her resolute frown.

It reminded him that something must eventually be done about her defiance.

"I'm not going," he snapped and set his mouth in a thin line. "The thought of being around any of your low-class, idiot comrades for any period of time sickens me."

She was having none of it. Vegeta could already make out that infuriatingly certain glitter behind her irises as her reflection drew nearer. The cool touch of her palm against his back had his skin leaping away, and yet he remained still as her hands skimmed over him, across his back, allowing her long arms to wind around his middle. Carefully, Bulma leant into him, maintaining a prudent distance apart from him as her chin dropped into the nook of his shoulder and neck.

Admittedly, it disheartened her to watch as his sable gaze fought against her pressuring stare. "Oh, c'mon," she again cajoled. An idea occurred to her then, and Bulma's lips spread into an encouraging smile. "You know, Gohan-chan would probably do for a good spar. I think Chi Chi said he hasn't taken up his training as diligently as before."

Vegeta's throat made a tight noise of annoyance, and Bulma's arms folded just slightly further against his abdomen. "It would figure that child would start slacking off as soon as he had a whiff of peace. Worthless," he muttered to himself. Vegeta swung his eyes upward, in search of the woman's undoubtedly agitated glower, and he instantly regretted daring to do so; at once, he was held by her inquisitive gaze, and that promise of a smile.

His chest pulled out toward her hopeful reflection, and he loathed himself entirely as that throbbing organ behind his bones answered for him. "We will not be there long, onna. I will leave you there," he threatened with irritation renewed as her torso finally pushed flush against him. Giggles rippled out of her and into him, sending jolting tremors down his spine and to his toes.

Bulma dipped her head and pressed a thankful kiss into the curve of his shoulder. Her mouth curved into a smile against his skin, and Vegeta bit the inside of his cheek against the stinging burn it seemed to leave. He glanced back to find her staring at him with rapt attention suddenly, and it drove him absolutely mad that he had to wonder – to even wonder at all.

"Vegeta, I can't believe I've never asked," Bulma spoke quietly, now with a vague surprise as that familiar questioning gaze roved over his tight, uncomfortable features. "But when is your birthday? You've never said."

When she settled her ear casually against his throat, he froze upon realization of their intimate proximity, suddenly at a loss.

Author's Note: During the Great Saiyaman arc, they kind of implied that Gohan frequented Capsule Corp. quite often. Which is super cool, 'cause it ALWAYS BOTHERED ME to think that these people - supposedly really good friends - could have these complete lives apart from one another. How do you go four years and NOT know one of your oldest and dearest friends has had a kid? Seriously?

Anyway, Vegeta seemed pretty companionable with Gohan in the Saiyaman and Buu arcs (as companionable as Vegeta can be) and Goten consistently addressed him as "uncle." So, I imagine he gradually allowed himself to become one of 'them.' He just needed a little persuasion, 'cause lord knows he would not go down without a fight!

Also, the question Bulma presents at the end strikes me as something that might be a big deal to Vegeta. Hell, would he even remember when his birthday was?