Later that evening, after taking a much-needed shower and actually bothering to dress in something other than her labcoat and sweats, Bulma ventured towards the dining room to have dinner with her parents. It was a more common occurrence now that the holidays were approaching. At Bunny's insistence, Bulma and her dad both juggled their hectic and unpredictable work schedules to spend more time as a family. Between the three of them — since her mom discouraged them from using the bots to do the work — they also managed to set up decorations around the compound. It didn't bother Bulma; it was relieving to have someone remind her she was getting too caught up in her work.

"Hey mom! Hey dad!" She greeted both her parents as she sauntered in and plopped down on a chair at one end of the dining table. "Mmm! I don't know what you made mom, but it smells amazing in here."

Bunny beamed with pride. "Aww, thank you. I made chicken parmigiano with ziti and garlic bread."

"Delicious. And dad, I see you're wearing a designated ugly holiday sweater this evening," she joked, grinning.

He laughed. "Don't look at me. It was Carlie from the biology division that put me up to it."

"I admire her ability to talk you into wearing something other than your work clothes, dear," her mom called from the kitchen, carrying a large steaming pot into the room. She set it down on the center of the table and turned eyeing the hint of cleavage displayed by Bulma's red v-neck sweater with a playful smile. "And do you have an admirer, Bulma? You're looking lovely. Maybe you mean to consider asking that hard-working and handsome young man out on a night in the town?"

She didn't have to ask who the 'handsome young man' was.

Bulma guffawed. "Mom, no. Vegeta's not my type."

But maybe he was?

"I beg to differ, sweetie. If you ask me that Vegeta sure is husband material," Bunny chirped resolutely, smile unwavering. Bulma was about to snort until her mom added, "Besides, he'll be joining us tonight for dinner. You should consider getting to know him better."

"I know he probably won't even come because he's too involved in his training. It's all he cares about."

Bunny laughed. "Nonsense. If you knew him well you'd know that he can't hold out on food the same way Goku can't. Isn't that right, Trunks?"

"Yes, whatever you say honey." Mr. Briefs' gaze was fixated on an engineering magazine.

"Trunks Briefs! What did I say about reading or working when we're about to have dinner?" An uncharacteristic glare marred Bunny's features.

He looked chagrined as he set the paper down. "Sorry dear."

Instantly her cheerful expression returned. "Alright then, we should probably start eating. Although Vegeta should be here any minute—"

Just then, Vegeta walked up to the doorway and inspected the room. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a white longsleeve shirt that accentuated the shape of his chest. His hair looked damp, indicating he recently showered. Bulma nearly choked on her wine when his eyes met hers for a split second and just as quickly averted her. It was the first time they had been this near each other since their last encounter.

Awkward. Having a crush on her best friend's nemesis was weird.

Though she had to lend credit to her mom when she called him 'handsome.' She didn't know what it was about him being in normal clothes, but it was doing something for her.

Get a grip Bulma. You've seen this man half naked. He barely wears clothes.

Oh god, I've seen this man half naked. I'm doomed.

Mrs. Briefs was delighted. "You're just in time, Vegeta. We're all about to dig in. Would you like to join us and eat?"

He gave a curt nod, stalking forward slowly and choosing to sit opposite of her.

Everyone — save for Bunny — was silent as they served their own food. "Oh excellent! I knew you would join us for dinner. I made plenty so you should be pretty satisfied, Vegeta."

"It has a pleasant taste," he remarked after taking a bite.

"Why that is very kind of you to say. Thank you, Vegeta."

Bulma was surprised compliments existed in his vocabulary. She dug into her own meal and had to agree with his assessment. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor of the chicken and she sighed contentedly. When she looked up from her plate she saw — no felt — him studying her.

She cleared her throat and reached for the pitcher of wine across the table, but it was too far for her to grasp. Wordlessly, Vegeta pushed it closer to her, his gaze lingering on her. His lip twitched as if fighting off a laugh.

Was he...?

"Uhm, thanks," Bulma said, grabbing the pitcher and pouring herself another drink. By the time she pressed her lips against the glass of wine and tilted it to take a sip, he was looking back down at his food and eating vigorously.

After another pause of silence, Bunny offered, "Oh this is so wonderful! We're all here having a proper dinner. I don't know about you, but I think it gets too lonely around here with the two of you cooped up in your labs and Vegeta training. I'm living with workaholics nowadays."

Mr. Briefs spoke up, "I've just been caught up in running the company, dear. We're working tirelessly to improve the hydraulics on the space ships we're building. Unfortunately Bulma and I need to meet some strict guidelines to get more funding from NASA to complete them. They were impressed with our work on the spaceship we sent to Namek, but now they want to see more improvements."

"Tell me about it," Bulma muttered. Not that she minded the challenge. "It's okay though. I need to make those better in case things go sour in three years; especially since the others wouldn't listen to me and actually want to fight those cyborgs."

"Now Bulma, I know you want to work really hard like all the others, but I think you need a break now and again. Sweetie when was the last time you slept well?" Bunny asked disapprovingly.

Bulma crossed her arms, miffed. "For the record, I slept seven full hours last night—"

"Although your efforts are admirable, that won't be necessary. There will be no need for such things because I will ascend and defeat those tin cans," Vegeta cut in haughtily, his eyes narrowed at her as he downed his drink and examined her.

Bulma's cheeks grew heated, her hand tightening around her glass. "Yeah right, bud. All you boys would be lost without my dad and I. You need us to figure out what you're dealing with."

He was baiting her and boy was it working. "I don't need the work of some frail scientists once I've ascended. Especially a bossy one like you."

"Well I seem to remember that the work of this 'frail' and 'bossy' scientist has made you triple your strength since you came here."

He smirked. He was enjoying this! "You and your father created and built the stimulator, but I did all the work. I earned my strength through my training."

"You have some nerve, you jerk," Bulma snapped, glaring at him. She wanted to say a lot more, but thought better of it with her poor parents watching.

"I do." He chuckled, his dark eyes full of mirth. Bulma calmed slightly when she noticed the carefree manner that he swished his drink around in his glass and his relaxed posture. His tone was suggestive when he said, "And you're as feisty as ever. Are you going to demand that I go bathe for my defiance? I seem to recall you doing that when I returned from space."

She looked into his eyes and felt that silly hope bubble up to the surface again. The months of gloominess seemed to fade at once from her memory; a weight lifting from her shoulders. Could it be? It finally struck her that he was trying to rekindle their banter.

Maybe it was the wine talking, but she felt she could play along too. Bulma smirked and graced him with a cheeky response, "I just might if you stink up the place again and the only shirt I'll offer you will be pink."

"Then I won't wear one if it means I'll avoid wearing that atrocity again."

That was a shame because, in her opinion, he did the pink justice. "You're just mad pink suits you."

"I destroyed those garments," he confessed nonchalantly, digging into his food again.

"You what!?"

"So that's where my shirt went..." Mr. Briefs said under his breath while he watched their exchange.

Mrs. Briefs giggled and glanced at her husband. "I see those two are getting along as usual."

"But...they're arguing."

"Exactly, dear."

The room quieted for a moment until Bulma huffed dramatically, "I can't believe you would just destroy that shirt."

Vegeta's smug expression was his only response.

"Jerk," she deadpanned, but she wasn't angry.

"The one and only," he spoke, lifting his glass of wine as if to make a toast and drinking the remainder. And in a near whisper he added, "Yet you invited me."

Vegeta was the first to finish eating; an astonishing feat considering how much more Saiyans ate. He always managed to surprise her in some way. Bulma smiled at the thought as she set her plates in the dishwasher for the bots to clean and wished her parents a good night.

She strolled into the living room and found him sitting in the alcove by the fireplace, staring out the window into the night sky. It was snowing outside. Little flurries gently billowed in the breeze, landing on the ground and slowly covering the gardens. The room had an orange glow from the fire, making the tips of his hair look like small flames and lighting the sharp planes of his face.

"I don't think it's the right weather to go stargazing," she said from where she stood.

"I'm not stargazing. I have already seen enough stars in my lifetime," he replied gruffly. "...I'm merely looking."

"Mind if I join?"

"Yes." The corner of his lip curled.

So he didn't.

She grinned impishly, walking up to his side and sitting next to him. "Too bad, asshole."

They remained silent for some time, enjoying the view offered by the window. It was a nice moment; those rare delicacies found in a time of peace. In a world where constant threats didn't exist, she may have been able to immerse herself in it. But Bulma couldn't easily forget the turmoil that was to come, nor could she stop questioning the fragile alliance she had with the man next to her.

Especially after his cold dismissal of her months ago.

"So how're you liking earth?" She asked, deciding to start off vague.

He shrugged.

"Still a social butterfly, I see," she teased.

"I'm sociable. I simply don't have your human obsession to fill every waking moment with noise."

"How's your training going?"

It was apparently the worst thing to ask. His brows creased, a bitterness in his voice when he spoke, "I have not ascended."

"Oh."

Bulma would have thought their exchange was over judging by the look of his tense shoulders and his clenched jaw. But in an unusual turn of events he opened up.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," he admitted, turning to face her. Gone was the arrogant front. Instead, a lonely man stood in its place. "No matter how much I train beyond my limits I am no closer to reaching it."

Surprised that he would confide in her, she remained silent and opted to just listen.

"There's some vital part missing. I can feel it. Kakarot...he did something..." He formed a ball of ki in his hand, staring at it desperately as if it contained the answer.

"Have you considered that you might be forcing it?"

The ball of ki dissipated and he stared intently at her. "How so? Was it not Kakarot's sense of urgent need and force of will that summoned it?"

She thought it over and genuinely couldn't really see why the transformation would be unobtainable or beyond him. He was incredibly strong and committed. "Maybe when you ascend it will be from a completely different cause than Goku. I have a hard time believing saiyans all ascend the same way."

"Hn." That seemed to have placated him a bit. His face softened. "I suppose."

As they fell back into a comfortable silence, Bulma couldn't help but wonder what had brought about this tolerable behavior from him. What had motivated him to begin speaking to her again? It wasn't because he needed someone to fix the GR; her father had taken on that role when she had vowed off it. Who was this man to come around, cast a constant doubt of her judgement, and make her feel things?

She didn't know what compelled her to keep interacting with him, but she felt the need to when the night seemed so full of possibilities.

"Maybe the missing element is that you need to live a little," she joked, peeking at his face from the corner of her eye.

Months ago he would have called such a remark foolish.

He smirked. "Are you suggesting something?"

"Well for starters, haven't you ever heard of a vacation? Earth has a lot to offer. I'm sure that if you also didn't go around scowling at everyone maybe some people would even think you're attractive."

Too late, she realized what she was implying. "Oh I didn't mean-"

"Am I pleasing to gaze upon, Earth woman?" He asked pointedly, his dark eyes studying her.

She looked at the strong form of his jaw, the arch of his fine nose, his musculature barely concealed beneath his white longsleeve, and the sensuous shape of his lips.

"Sometimes."

He chuckled darkly. "I'm still 'cute,' then? I'll have you know that prior to my arrival on Earth I was highly sought after by men and women. I've 'lived a little.'"

She could be wrong, but he might be flirting. Maybe she was too. She grinned. "What about me, tough guy? Am I 'pleasing to look at'?"

"I'll leave that for you to answer as you seem rather insistent on telling me you are every waking second."

"Do you disagree?" She asked coyly, fluttering her lashes playfully.

His smirk fell away, his piercing gaze assessing her seriously. "No."

She looked away blushing and cleared her throat, keenly aware of how their hands were almost touching and their close proximity. "So you dated people and stuff?"

"Something like that," he said, voice rumbling as he moved closer. "And you? Are you still with that moronic human? Must be as abysmal and inadequate in the bedroom as he is with his training."

She snorted in shock. "Vegeta! That is rude! And, no, I'm not with Yamcha anymore."

"Figures," he whispered, his warm breath suddenly on her ear. Bulma stood still, a shiver running down her spine. "You and I alone on this stupid mudball."

'You and I?'

She tilted her head in his direction to find his lips hovering over hers, his eyes smoldering with their intent. Behind them the fire cackled.

"Enough pretenses."

"What?" She found herself saying, caught in his magnetic stare. Something was stirring between them; something she felt there would be no return from.

"Why were you there?"

"Where?"

"When I awoke in the infirmary."

The shock of that question sapped her of her ability to speak. The truth of it all was she couldn't understand why herself. Her mind transported her back to that incident. The desperation she'd felt, her heart hammering in her chest while she knelt in the rubble and scrapped her knees searching frantically for him.

"Vegeta!" she cried. He couldn't be dead.

The relief she'd felt when he lifted himself out of the wreckage, the sudden anger, and then dread when he fell back.

"I..."

"Well what is it?" There was an accusatory tone in his voice when he said, "Do you enjoy seeing me be helpless? Does it satisfy you when I have fallen? Does it make you feel as heroic as Kakkarot to corrupt me with your concern?"

Bulma bristled, standing suddenly. "You think I spent a whole night at your bedside because it makes me look good?" She seethed.

"It would seem like it. What other motive would you have for looking after me. You wish to assimilate me into your world; destroy the very essence of what I am until I become one of you."

"Or here's a crazy idea. Maybe I, as stated before, give a shit if you're ten feet under."

"One could call Frieza many things, but he was never wrong about this. There is always a debt to pay for generosity. In each journey I must lose a piece of myself."

"Why do you think this way? Why is it so hard to believe I'm not hiding anything or out to harm you? That I-" A lump formed in her throat. She couldn't say it.

His lips moved slightly as if to say something to the contrary, but instead he relented at her tone. The room was quiet save for their breathing and the fire.

"Perhaps for once I should heed your reckless advice," he said in a silken whisper, gaze never straying, "and suffer the consequences."

There was a foreign look in his eyes, not unlike a starving man. It was a deadly look...both beautiful and tempting.

Wordlessly she reached out her hand, all at once needing to touch this man. He allowed it. She touched his chest, feeling his steady pulse under the palm of her hand.

His eyes were hooded and she could feel the vibrations in his chest when he spoke. "You thought about what I said. About seeking what you want?"

There was a moment of deliberation where time stood still, a fire building up in her.

Ever so slowly she leant forward and brushed her parted lips against his awaiting mouth. Her breath caught in her throat and all at once their petty squabbles made sense. It was all culminating to this point in time. All her worries faded until all she could feel was the warmth of the fire and his yielding lips. Her eyes closed, and she cupped his face in her hands, surprised by the smoothness of it. She deepened their kiss, allowing one hand to slide back and knot in his hair.

"Bulma," he breathed when she pulled away, like it was a forbidden thing; her name a confession whispered in the dark behind closed bedroom doors. It destroyed whatever restraint she had.

Before she could even blink, he stood and his mouth was on hers, kissing her with such a fierceness that the rest of the world could melt away.

She responded by lurching forward and pressing her body against his. In turn he seized a fistful of her curls, grabbing her hard by the waist and pinning her to the wall. She thought she would melt from the thrill of it. His lips were warm and wet against hers, and she took a particular delight in feeling the fullness of his bottom lip. It was so pleasantly soft in contrast to everything about this man.

Drawing back, she snarled breathlessly, "I know what I want. Do you?"

He took her up on that challenge. They kissed again and it was as ferocious and wicked as she'd imagined. One of his hands trailed the curve of her hip and grazed the back of her thigh, lifting it so that he could grind his pelvis slowly against hers. A hot jolt of desire coursed through her, a moan escaping her lips. His lips descended down her neck and the tops of her breasts, and when his hips thrust forward once more she met them with her own. They both gasped, anticipating it. He opened his mouth, allowing her tongue to explore him. And explore, she did. One simple kiss would not be enough to satiate the tempest building up in her.

"Why now? What changed?" She panted between kisses, grabbing his face. "What about your pride?"

"Nothing has changed," he said, his voice low and husky. "Don't you understand? We always want."

"Shut up," she demanded hoarsely, kissing his chin and his neck. He groaned, tightening his hold on her.

Just as she was going to shove him towards the couch to really get things going, she heard footsteps at the stairs. Someone was heading their way.

Vegeta must have sensed it too, because he quickly stopped and backed away from her. Bulma turned, feeling some dread at the thought that someone may have seen them. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she tried to reign in her breathing.

It was her dad, but he was too busy looking over some notes in his hands to have noticed what was happening. "Bulma, have you seen Scratch? I'm trying to focus on reviewing these calculations for a boardroom meeting tomorrow and it's just not the same when he's not around."

"Umm, last I saw him he was on the other side of the compound, dad." Nice save Briefs.

"Thank you, sweetie," he said, peering up from his papers. He adjusted his spectacles when he saw Vegeta standing behind her. "Oh hi there, Vegeta. I'm surprised you're in the living room at this hour."

Vegeta glanced at her briefly before announcing, "I shall be retiring to my quarters now," and walking away.

It had taken no time for his cool and collected demeanor to return.

Mr. Briefs' eyes widened. "Oh ok. Good night."

Bulma felt a bit let down at that, but as soon as he was far enough from her dad he gave her a look that held a promise to continue what they started in the near future.

She longed to know when.

"That boy is quite enigmatic sometimes."

She watched as he retreated to his room and had to agree. "Tell me about it."