AN: Another week, another chapter! I rather like this one. ;)

Chapter 5

"I don't like him, to be honest," Yamcha complained during their end-of-the-day meal. "I think he's arrogant."

Chichi chuckled. "You're surprised the PRINCE is arrogant? What were you expecting?"

"He's pretty typical of most males I've met," Bulma chimed in, nonchalant.

Goku didn't say anything. He just met Yamcha's glance sidelong. He knew what this was about. Yamcha shifted in his chair.

"I don't know… Does he always have to leer, though?" he commented, not meeting anyone else's gaze.

"Leer?" Bulma questioned.

"Yeah…" he grumbled. "He's always watching y— everyone."

"Well," Chichi chimed in, "he needs to keep an eye on his soldiers. You all are his responsibility, and technically you are responsible for his safety as well." She shrugged. "I'd keep my eyes on all of you, too." Yamcha murmured to himself.

"See! There he is again," Yamcha grouched. Everyone's eyes went to the door, and there was Prince Vegeta with Nappa in tow, as usual. He looked at Bulma for a touch longer than normal before scrutinizing the rest of the crowd.

"There," Yamcha continued. "Why does he always look over here?"

Bulma scoffed at him. "Why do you think? In a sea of black, turquoise tends to stand out. It's instinct for your eyes to latch onto what's visually different. It's science." She ended with a little poke to his forehead. He scrunched up his nose at her and gave her a smile.

"Or we're just the most beautiful table." He waggled his eyebrows at her. They all laughed.

"Well obviously," Chichi commented, going back to her food. Bulma caught his look, though.

He had been subtly flirting with her for weeks now. It was flattering, and she could be a bit of a flirt herself. She did enjoy the chase. However, it was just for fun. She liked Yamcha, but there wasn't anything there on her side. He was a good friend, nothing more.

Relationships weren't at the top of mind for her. She'd been in a few when she was younger; they had always disappointed. No one challenged her, there was rarely any spark, and the men were just… subpar. Just the same old lug heads; all brawn and no brain. She knew she couldn't expect anyone to match her intellect—she was a genius, after all—but christ, at least present some level of thought that could take part in a stimulating conversation. That and to a man the ones she had been with chose her as a novelty. The interest they had shown her amounted to "bedding the blue girl." Bulma never got that feeling from Yamcha; he seemed genuine in his interest in her. She just didn't return the interest.

She also had really no experience in turning men down, so her approach was to pretend she didn't know. Just don't acknowledge it.

"By the way, Bulma, those updated drones are amazing!" Goku pitched in, changing the subject. "They are a lot more intuitive than your earlier versions." The prince had been releasing the upgraded drones to train his elites after he had tested them. He had, of course, found them all wanting, but she was always incorporating his suggestions—and her own ideas—into new versions. She was cranking out new versions at least twice a week. Best to keep them all on their toes.

"Thanks," she said, smiling a little. Compliments were always nice to receive. "Veg—the prince is always asking for new features. I think he's looking for perfection, but that's not really achievable with things like this." She shrugged. "I just keep incorporating his demands and adding new flourishes I think of. To be honest, I wonder if he's just starving for something new. They haven't had any interface updates in years. How boring…"

That got them onto a topic about what training was like before technological advances, and all thoughts of the prince and jealousy were gone.

Vegeta marched down the opulent hall on the way to the throne room. It was so like his father to request an audience with him in such a formal setting. Maybe it was some sort of official thing. In that case, however, he would usually be given a heads up on what the meeting was to entail. He was entirely in the dark for this one, and it did not sit well with him.

He had been focusing nearly all of his energy on training this new batch of elites for the past two months. He only had one month left before their mission, and he needed all of the time he could get to whip them all into proper fighting shape. These distractions right now were not necessary.

As he approached the large double doors to the throne room, he paused and prepared himself for whatever it was his father was going to throw at him. He took a deep breath and pulled open the doors.

The throne room was enormous, and at the front were two ostentatious chairs, one slightly larger than the other. That was the one his father sat in. The other sat empty, as it had for the past eleven years. He rarely even looked at that chair; it brought up memories he didn't care to think about. Instead, he kept his eyes directed at his father. The only real discernible differences between the king and his son was facial hair and height—they were very different in temperament, though. The prince had a shorter temper and a greater driver for power than his father did. The king was content to rule on name alone whereas Vegeta wanted to rule with strength as well.

Prince Vegeta's cape billowed behind him as he crossed the length of the room—he had dressed for the occasion—until he came to a stop at the base of the dais. He put his fist to his heart and bowed.

"Your Highness, you requested my presence?" the prince declared with light attitude.

The king frowned slightly. "Why are you being so formal, son?" he questioned, slight irritation in his voice. He did not appreciate mockery.

The prince straightened and gestured at the room. "You wanted this meeting in the formal room with," he gestured to the saiyan standing to the side of the throne, "the royal scribe. I assumed it was a cause for formality."

King Vegeta's eyes narrowed and he frowned again. There was no point in continuing the topic—best to proceed with the matter at hand. "I asked you here to discuss your future as the ruler of this planet."

The prince blinked. This was unexpected. "What about it? I have been extensively briefed on all that is required and what is expected. I have sat through hours of the driest lectures imaginable on the topic and have even gone over the coronation expectations. What more is needed to discuss?"

The king shifted in his seat. "Having gone through all of this information, you appear to have not accomplished one of the requirements of holding the crown. You have yet to take a mate." The younger Vegeta tensed. "In fact, I have seen no prospective mates anywhere near you, and neither have any of my advisors. You can't put this off forever. You're 22; by your age, I had been mated with your mother for three years."

"I don't need to hear your backstory," Prince Vegeta snapped. Conversations about his mother made him uncomfortable in what it stirred up. "I am well aware of your rise to power and history from the aforementioned dry lectures. I am much more focused on keeping us known as the strongest force in the universe. The last thing on my mind is finding a fuckable female."

The king frowned at the vulgarity. "It is much more than that, son. It is about finding a good mate to rule alongside you and be the mother of your children."

Blue flashed in Vegeta's mind. He forked his eyebrows even more. This was not something he was interested in discussing. He had more important matters to attend to. "That bridge will be crossed when it is necessary," he said gruffly, his dissatisfaction with this visit readily apparent.

King Vegeta stood from the chair, finally losing his patience with his son's flippant attitude. "The mate who will rule with you and bear your children is an extremely important matter and should not be treated with such disregard. It could determine your rule and the future of this planet."

The prince waved a dismissive hand at him. "Noted," he replied derisively. "Now if you don't mind, I have soldiers to train." He turned on his heel and began the long walk out of the room.

"Vegeta, if you don't choose a suitable mate, then I will," his father bellowed after him. The only response he got was an indifferent wave of his hand.

Bulma squinted at the computer screen, scrutinizing what she saw there. She was trying to determine the best way to integrate the changes she wanted into the code. Her concentration was broken by the now typical sound of broken drones clattering at her feet. She glanced over at the particularly prickly prince standing next to her.

"They need to be better," was all he said. No needling her, no playfulness, just dull irritation.

"Gee, thanks for that precise feedback, I'll get right on that," she threw at him, attempting to inject at least a bit of levity. He grunted and went back to his training area. She looked on, confused. He had been petulant lately, and it was getting on her nerves. She chose to ignore him and went back to her work.

Before she knew it, the day was over. She had completed what she believed to be her best update yet, and hopefully it would finally be one that Vegeta's picky ass would approve of. She looked over to where Vegeta normally was to say she was leaving, but he wasn't even there. She frowned and glared at the empty spot. Bye to you, too, asshole.

She met up with the group as usual, but she couldn't keep her frustration off her face.

"What's wrong, Bulma?" Chichi questioned as they were walking to the common room, their usual post-dinner destination. Hopefully after the mission was complete, they could add more activities to their repertoire, but as it stood they needed to focus which meant their free time was restricted to the keep.

"Vegeta's being a prick," she grumbled. At Chichi's incredulous look, she added, "More than usual. He's usually at least good for some interesting ribbing, but he's just been a complete wet blanket. It's making working with him a complete drag."

"Maybe he's just preparing mentally for the mission," she shrugged. "I mean, you guys leave in two and a half weeks. He's probably just got that on his mind."

Bulma shrugged. "Yeah, probably," she relented.

Chichi slapped her on the back. "Let's think of some more interesting topics to talk about tonight rather than our pompous ruler, huh?" Bulma smirked and nodded.

However, Bulma continued to think about it the rest of the night. The change was so sudden. Did he abruptly realize it was coming up? That just seemed out of character. He had been focused on this since the beginning; it didn't make sense that he would so suddenly change his behavior over the realization of the passage of time. He's aware enough that he wouldn't let that realization of the impending mission sneak up on him.

She intended to confront him about it the next day. He had added more days where she was working on the project over training with the rest to really push for the best training drones for the final few weeks, and then she would spend the rest of the time training with everyone else. It took her a lot longer to fall asleep because she just could not shut off her brain.

She fell asleep rehearsing how she would lay into him the next day. She did not sleep very soundly.

Bulma got up early after tossing and turning and falling asleep for bits at a time. She finally gave up and arose two hours early, got herself ready, and headed to her tinkering room to work on what she hoped to be the finishing touches of her final upgrade that they could then send to the elites for the last few weeks of training.

She had been going over and over in her head how she would address the prince. There was a fine line to walk; he was her superior, and royalty, after all. Bulma had her plan, though she was not at all looking forward to executing it.

She had completed her work and was sitting in her chair stewing when she heard the door slam open at the usual time, and in stalked the peevish prince. It appeared he remained the same as he had been. He didn't look in her direction, didn't acknowledge her presence at all. She cleared her throat. Nothing.

"Your highness?" she finally broached. Still nothing. "Prince Vegeta?" Silence, not even a head turn to verify that he even heard her in the relative quiet of the room. Anger boiled in her belly. Finally she bellowed, "VEGETA!"

That got her attention. His head whipped around to face her, his eyes liquid metal. "What do you want, woman?" he barked.

That was it. She was seeing red. The blue-haired saiyan stood from her chair and walked toward him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she shot at him, stopping a few feet from him.

His eyes flashed. "What?" he growled, low and dangerous. Rather than scaring Bulma off, it only made her more furious and more bold.

"You heard me. What the fuck is wrong with you? You have been a complete piece of shit lately, and it's pissing me the fuck off."

That caught him a bit off guard, and his mouth opened slightly before snapping shut. He took a short breath and said, "I'm focusing on the task at hand. We have an important mission in two weeks."

"Bullshit," Bulma shouted, pointing her finger at his chest. "You've been preparing for this for months now. You never treated it with less gravity than it deserves. I don't believe for one second that you suddenly let the severity of it hit you." This was not at all what she had rehearsed.

Vegeta's countenance darkened. He moved around her, almost circling her like a tiger, and stopped when she was between him and the wall. "You know nothing about me, woman. Nor the responsibilities I have as the prince of this planet. Do not presume to know me."

Bulma's frown deepened even further, completely nonplussed by his menacing presence. "I know you more than you think. I've spent half of my weeks with you for months, and I'm an observant person. I know something happened about a week ago that got your tail in a twist, and you've had your head up your ass ever since. Why don't you just tell me what it was?" She crossed her arms and stood strong.

Something about her lack of intimidation stirred something in him, but he wasn't sure what it was. Rage, for sure, but something else, too. He advanced on her in a way that made her back up. Rather than fear, her eyes showed confusion. She kept walking until she bumped up against the wall, and he slammed both hands against the wall on either side of her head, causing her to flinch.

"You, woman," he growled, meaning to sound dangerous but coming out more sultry, "know nothing about me. I have responsibilities you could never understand."

Bulma felt her breath quickening. He was so close to her; she could feel his breath on her face. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She didn't feel fear, though… She couldn't describe the feeling other than it was thrilling. "Try me," she said in a hoarse whisper, her eyes burning with fire and defiance.

Vegeta's eyes bore into hers, at a stalemate. He was inches from her face. He could hear her breathing increasing, low and breathy, and he could see her heart beating in her neck. He started feeling his body beginning to betray him as his breath began to come faster as well. He growled low in his throat, baring his teeth slightly, almost more to remind himself of his anger than for her benefit.

Bulma gave a visible shiver at the growl, her eyes closing slightly longer than a blink. As with before, she was not reacting out of fear. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was feeling a building desire that she couldn't acknowledge but also couldn't stop. To her frustration, her chest was beginning to visibly rise and fall. Stop, Bulma, stop… He will be able to smell you… But she couldn't stop her body from reacting. He was too close, too intense…

Vegeta noticed her breath increasing further, her lips slightly parting and her eyes beginning to haze over. He glanced down, his eyes on her almost heaving chest, breaking their eye contact. He heard her give a small gasp, a barely audible intake of breath. But of course he heard it. He also caught the slight hint of her arousal, and he jerked his ever-shadowing eyes back to hers that were temporarily closed.

When she opened her eyes again, his eyes were once more locked onto hers. And they had darkened with an even more intense glow. She could feel the strain in his arms on either side of her. Faster than she could have anticipated, his face shot to the side of her head, his lips at her ear.

"Don't test me, woman," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear and sending another shiver through the whole length of her body. She could have sworn she heard him breath her in, but honestly it could have been her own blood in her ears at that point—she was in such a daze she could barely tell up from down.

A second later, he was feet away with his back to her. His shoulders were so tense, they could have been made of steel. "Release your finished program to the drones for pre-mission training. Then you are to spend the remainder of training until the mission with the rest of the team. Dismissed." With that, he disappeared through his door to the room, leaving Bulma to pull herself together, now cold with the sudden retreat of his heated body.

Her legs felt like butter. Had she been a weaker person, she would have melted down the wall. She finally was able to catch her breath, taking big gulps of air as she attempted to slow her racing heart. What in the ever living fuck was that?

After she was able to get herself right, back to some semblance of normality—or as best she could—she did as she was told and released her final AI upgrade. The aqua-colored genius gave herself a good number of minutes to clear up her mental fog before returning to the rest of the troops.

In another training room, Vegeta was destroying everything he could get his hands on in a vain attempt to cool his blood and get that woman out of his mind.

AN: Ooo! Spicy! I hope everyone enjoyed it. R&R!

- Trixie-chan