As soon as the words "he is deceased" were uttered by the White Coat, Vegeta clapped Bulma on the arm. "Go," he said.

The Princess looked at him quizzically. Go where, she wanted to ask.

"Go now," Vegeta repeated. His face was contorted, and Bulma continued staring at him. Frozen in place.

"P-Princess," White coat said.

"Go! NOW!" Vegeta's chest was moving forcefully, and his breath was strained.

He looked like he was about to explode. Bulma turned and scurried for the door. She reached it just in time to hear Vegeta letting out a guttural yell before she slipped into the corridor.

She felt the floor quaking. And a thud sounded from inside the room. Another yell erupted from Vegeta, carrying down the halls and echoing off the walls. The sound was so loud, so pained, so furious. Tears filled Bulma's eyes to hear the angst in her husband's voice, and she wanted to do something to comfort him.

His father was dead.

How would she feel if she learned the same about hers?

What could she do? He'd cast her away just as he had with Nova.

There was one more yell, and the quaking of the floor grew even stronger. The walls began to shake with it, and then there was a loud explosion. The door to the medical wing flew open from the force, and it was enough to knock the Princess off her feet. She screamed and put her arms in front of her face for cover, her body being forced back into the wall.

And then, as quickly as it came, it was done.

The walls stopped quivering, the floor went still. The yells ceased, and all was silent.

All, except for the sounds of running feet crossing the palace in order to inspect.

"I don't wish to talk to anyone." Vegeta spat. Bulma looked into the room and saw him standing knee deep in a crater. What had happened when she'd left? It was as if he'd unleashed energy so great that it imploded the very ground he stood on.

Many of the regeneration tanks were fractured, some completely shattered. Shelves were knocked on their sides, vials of medicine scattered on the floor. Bulma saw the White Coat picking himself up from across the room - evidently he'd be thrown, too.

"P-Prince," White Coat was shaking.

"I'm leaving before any of those nosy faces show up." Vegeta spat. The sounds of rushing feet were growing closer.

"Pr-Prince!" Bulma said, too. Vegeta snapped his face at her.

"That's just Vegeta to you," He replied. And she was surprised at how much softer his voice was when he said it. The tone he'd used a moment ago was so… harsh. It was clear that he was making a conscious effort not to lash at her.

"Wh-"

"Let's go. Now." And he was at her side, grabbing hold of her wrist. Bulma gasped when he took her in his arms, and she bit her lip to avoid screaming when the saiyan flew the both of them through a nearby window. His body shielded her from any flying glass, and she clutched him to ensure she wouldn't fall.

He rocketed through the air, making a loop around the palace. And then he landed on a balcony, setting her on her feet.

"Come on," He said. Vegeta slid the balcony door open, and the two walked into their chambers.

Feeling the familiar carpet under her feet, Bulma gasped with relief. Her legs gave out and she fell to her knees, using her hands to hold herself up. Her arms were trembling, her breath jagged.

"You alright?" Vegeta asked.

"Adrenaline." Bulma answered breathlessly. "I'll be… I'll be fine."

But the context sank in, and she quickly pulled herself to her feet. "This isn't about me! Vegeta, your fath-"

"I'm taking a shower and getting this goopy shit off me." Vegeta interrupted. He stormed for the closet and grabbed a set of clothes. As Bulma watched, he went for the bathroom door. And he shut it loudly, the lock sliding into place on the other side.

—

Bulma was sitting at the foot of the bed, and Vegeta by the headboard. He was freshly showered, his hair still dripping as he ran a towel over it. They hadn't spoken a word yet. The Princess wasn't trying to rush him to speak, and he the same.

A knock wrapped at the door, and Bulma looked to see Vegeta's reaction. He was glaring as if it had insulted him. Finally Bulma moved to answer, but he held his hand out to stop her. It seemed he didn't want her bothering herself with the matter. "Enter!" He called.

And in walked - who would have guessed - Nova.

"Vegeta," Nova said. "I just heard about your Dad."

Bulma stood to say something, but Vegeta beat her to it. "Are you stupid or just daft?" He snapped. Nova looked crestfallen, just as she had when he sent her away from the medical wing. "No, really, answer me,"

"I-" Nova reacted. "Vegeta… I was only checking on you."

"I don't need anyone checking on me!" He snapped. "If I desired company, I would have requested it,"

"But-"

"Out, Nova." He pointed a finger to the door. "And don't return if your only goal is to rub my father's death in my face! I don't need any more reminders!"

Princess Bulma watched as Nova strode out, her head hung low. And while there was a part of Bulma that enjoyed seeing Nova get put in her place, she was worried about the Prince. About his obviously testy emptions. About what had happened to him during the week he was away.

Silence fell upon the room. The only sound was Vegeta's jagged breathing as he calmed himself.

"Do… Would you like me to give you some space?" Bulma hesitated.

He was quiet for a moment.

"No." His voice was considerably softer than when he'd been snapping at Nova. "I don't wish to see anyone. But that doesn't include you. Of course, not you."

He seemed so genuine when he said it. Bulma felt her heartbeat quicken, and she scooted a little closer. "Really?"

"Isn't that obvious?" He actually smirked, even at a time like this.

"Well, if we stay together, what should we do?" The Princess smiled back.

"You tell me." The smirk still there.

"Let's play Truth or Dare," Bulma grinned. "That would be a fun way to get to know each other, don't you think?"

"What the hell is that?" His face dropped.

"I ask you a question, and you have to answer honestly. If you don't want to answer, you have to perform any act I request."

Did she know what she was implying? Vegeta's mouth went dry. Oh, the things that came to mind at that description, and she likely had no idea. Absolutely naive about how suggestive her choice of words was, of the possibilities that presented themselves.

Virgins .

"Okay, who goes first then." Vegeta replied, willing the thoughts away. He felt his chest tighten, but he tried to ignore it. He legitimately attempted to focus his curiosity, to convince himself that the intriguing thing about this game would be the questions .

"I'll start. So, Vegeta…. How old are you?"

"That's a boring question."

"Come on!" Bulma laughed. "We've got to start somewhere!"

"I'm twenty."

"Oh, okay." She smiled.

"Now what?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow. Wasn't she going to request some sort of act?

"Well, you chose to answer my question, so now it's your turn," The Princess explained.

"Okay. Then how old are you?" He turned it back on her.

"Eighteen."

"You're only eighteen?!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Bulma's cheeks reddened. " You're only twenty!"

"Nothing." Vegeta exhaled. "I just… don't know why. I assumed you were my age."

"Next time you marry someone maybe you'll remember to ask them first." Bulma huffed.

Vegeta actually laughed at this. "Okay. Next question."

The Princess rolled her eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully. She was thinking of one question in particular, but she felt it was too early in the game to ask. So she settled with another easy one. "What's your biggest fear?"

"Trying to exploit my weaknesses, aye?" Vegeta frowned. "What if I don't want to answer that?"

"Then… hmmm…. Then…" Bulma thought out loud. "Then.. I know! You have to give me a foot massage!"

"Me?" Vegeta was indignant. "Rub your feet ?"

"Yeah, I haven't had a good massage in ages." Bulma smiled wistfully. "I used to get one every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday."

"We have servants here that can do that, you know."

"But then what should I dare you to do?" Bulma asked. "It has to be something you aren't exactly excited about. That makes the choice harder. So which do you choose? Truth, or the dare?"

"Ugh!" Without warning Vegeta reached out and took hold of Bulma's ankles. He pulled her feet onto his lap, looking down at them with hesitation.

At first mention he assumed the act would be gross. All feet were disgusting, weren't they? But hers weren't what he was expecting at all. They were rather petite, with painted nails. And her legs were so soft - what he had felt of them, at least. Perhaps her feet would be soft, too. They sure looked like they would be.

Summoning what he could remember about the massages he'd received in his life, Vegeta carefully put his hands around one of Bulma's feet. And he held it firmly, gyrating his fingertips into the sole.

"Not bad!" Bulma sighed. She leaned back on her elbows to watch Vegeta work. In all honesty, she thought the dare was so ridiculous that he wouldn't go for it. And now that he had started, it really did feel good. She hadn't been massaged in weeks.

"How long must I do this?" Vegeta asked. He was stunned - her feet were just as soft as he'd anticipated. And they didn't smell bad at all - even they radiated that honeysuckle odor she always carried.

"I'm not sure, I guess until I decide I'm done." Bulma grinned.

"Well," He ran a fingertip down the calf of one of her legs. "Decide."

That felt so good. Chills ran down Bulma's spine, and once again she found herself wondering if this was too intimate for them. "Okay, then. You can stop,"

But Vegeta had made a decision of his own already, and he'd decided that he wanted to keep rubbing. So he did, much to her surprise.

Her pressed his thumbs into the pressure point of her foot, and Bulma actually gasped.

"It's my turn to ask a question." Vegeta commented.

"Yes.. I suppose so…" Bulma's eyes were closed as she relaxed into her footrub.

"Are you still afraid of me?"

Her eyes flew open. She hadn't been expecting that.

"Well…?"

"Hm." She noted he was still rubbing her feet, even during his turn. "Yes, somewhat. But I still enjoy your company."

"How does that work?" He found another pressure point.

"Beats me," Bulma gasped. "You're really good at this! You've given someone a foot massage before."

"Mm, just improvising." He mumbled. "So, you fear me?"

The Princess sighed thoughtfully. "I fear your anger. I fear your power."

"I would never use that against you."

"But you already have," Bulma shook her head. "You've shown me what you're capable of."

His rubbing slowed.

"I would never hurt you," He said then. He was looking into her eyes, and she stared back.

"You almost did," Bulma whispered. She felt tears threatening her eyes and snapped her gaze away. "In the bed on that ship, you almost-"

"I didn't know." He interrupted. "I wasn't aware you'd never-"

"-But even then-"

"I was trying to excite you-"

"-But I was so scared-" Bulma interrupted.

"-And I stopped when I realized-"

"-But I had already given up." She finished.

The rubbing of her feet slowed to a stop. "You what? "

"I … I was going to let you… I thought it was going to happen regardless of what I did."

He watched Bulma closely, her face still turned to the wall to avoid eye contact. And he felt a lump in his chest. "That's why I've been cautious around you." He gulped.

"What?" She looked up. "What do you mean?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't notice how I've distanced myself?" He chuckled. "Well, isn't that flattering."

"Oh, that." Bulma breathed. "I noticed… but I wasn't sure what was going on. I didn't know it was due to caution. What are you cautious about?"

"Should I really tell you?" He began to rub her feet again, his heart beating harder than ever. He couldn't believe what he was confessing right now.

"Well, I am curious now." Bulma sighed at the return of her massage.

"I…" He said slowly. "Quite frankly, I don't want to break you."

" What? "

He couldn't elaborate. That was far too much information as it was. She was far too innocent. Inexperienced. How would she understand?

"What do you mean you worry you're going to break me?" Bulma asked again.

"You'll understand in time," Vegeta replied.

"You're treating me like a child," Bulma objected. "Tell me! Please!"

"You're the Princess," Vegeta glared down at the feet he was rubbing. "… The Princess of Earth. I am a saiyan. The Prince of Saiyans. We are of two different cultures that clash."

"You're stating the obvious," She rolled her eyes. "But-"

"If you knew of a fraction of the things I've committed, you wouldn't want me rubbing your feet right now."

"But you've always been pleasant to me," Bulma replied. "Well, except for when you were angry, but-"

"There was a lot of context I was unaware of." He interrupted.

Suddenly Bulma felt the need to prove a point. She didn't want her own husband to think of her like some fragile doll that needed to remain unfractured. She didn't want him to treat her with that same delicacy that everyone else showed her. Sure, Bulma didn't want him acting the way he had on their wedding day, but that was another extreme. She just wanted him to treat her the same way he had before they'd married. As a person who was worth getting to know - as someone with more dimension. As someone that wouldn't snap in half at the drop of a hat!

"Vegeta…" Bulma sat up. She thought of one action that might prove herself to way he'd responded when he learned her age… The way he'd run from the room when she'd confessed she was a virgin. Whatever he was thinking about her fragility, she wanted to show that there was more to her than what met the eye. She didn't want him to put her in a box that so many others had done. She was more than that. "Hey, Vegeta…"

"What?" He looked up from her feet when she pulled them away from his grasp. She crawled towards him on her hands and knees, stopping when she was at face level.

And then, without hesitating, without doubting or questioning herself as she tended to do, she kissed him. Lips brushing together, sweet as strawberry soda, she grasped his face in her hands.

She heard him groan, probably in surprise, and then his hands trailed to her hips. And he held her, kissing back.

Good. It seemed she had made her point. And this felt so… wonderful. She was forming goosebumps when he swirled his fingertips into her hips. And she felt the passion in his kiss, the energy he was putting forth to return the gesture. Her stomach was twisting in an encouraging way, and she didn't realize how badly she'd missed this closeness with the Prince.

Bulma began to lay back, pulling him with her. He obliged, using his arms to keep his weight off of her. And she couldn't help it - it felt so good to have him like this. So much differently than that evening on the ship. So much more welcome, she felt so much more safe. And he was still rubbing her hips, and it felt so natural.

She remembered something Vegeta had done the first time they kissed. And she carefully parted her lips, allowing her tongue to brush against his bottom lip.

He abruptly pulled away.

"What?" She asked, panting. Bulma hadn't realized she was out of breath.

Vegeta stared into her eyes, his face stoic as he looked her over.

And then without speaking a word, he rolled to her side, still facing her. And she turned to him, placing her hands on his face again. "Did I do something wrong?" She asked.

The Prince just kept watching her, as if in disbelief. In wonder. As if he were thinking the whole kiss through, wanting to make sense of it.

And then he carefully put his arms around her, allowing her to continue holding him.

Bulma stared into his black eyes. They were so deeply dark - there was no telling where the iris ended and the pupil began. It was rather amazing… She'd never really seen them so closely before.

The two lay like that, minutes fleeting, studying one another. The sun had set, the sky above the balcony black. Her fingertips caressing his cheeks, nails brushing his skin…

His palm carefully rubbing her back, the other hand tracing shapes on the back of her neck…

Bulma wasn't sure when, but at some point she drifted to sleep. And she knew, in that moment, that he would too.