AN: Sorry for the late update. My family and I have been dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Helene.

Hope you enjoy!

.::TWELVE::.

"I'm fine, Mom," Bulma repeated into her cell phone, frustration evident in her voice as she rolled over on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

She had broken down and finally told her mother about her and Yamcha's breakup. Bulma had already lost count of how many times she'd reassured her mother during this phone call, yet here she was, having to repeat herself yet again.

"Are you sure, honey? Your father and I can come home early if you need us. It's no trouble at all," her mother said, her voice full of concern.

"No!" Bulma blurted out, perhaps a little too forcefully. She quickly tried to soften her tone. "I mean, you two enjoy yourselves. Stay on vacation and relax. I'm doing just fine here, I promise."

She did not want them to return now, not when Bulma felt like she was finally making headway in her relationship with Vegeta. Things had been shifting slowly but noticeably, and she wasn't about to lose that momentum. If her parents came home, it would just throw a wrench into everything. She wanted to push these boundaries further. See how far she and Vegeta would go.

"Well, okay, if you're sure… but you know we're just a phone call away," her mother said reluctantly.

Bulma sighed, recognizing the unspoken worry in her mother's tone. She knew why her Mom was so eager to come home; it wasn't the first time Bulma had gone through a rough patch. Her mom had been there every other time she and Yamcha had broken up, offering tea, tissues, and endless words of comfort. This time though, Bulma didn't need a shoulder to cry on. Things were different between her and Yamcha. More final than they had ever been before, and Bulma was determined to handle it herself.

"Stay, Mom. You and Dad really deserve this vacation," Bulma said, trying to sound as convincing as possible while flipping onto her stomach. She grabbed her pillow, tucked it under her arms, and rested her chin on it.

"I'm sorry. I just… I can't help but worry," her mother replied sadly

"I know you do, Mom," Bulma said with a sigh, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. She hated making her mother anxious. "But I'm fine, I promise. You don't need to worry about me."

"Alright, honey. Just remember, you can call me anytime. Day or night, it doesn't matter," her mother added, her tone still hesitant.

"I know," Bulma said reassuringly, with a small smile.

Even though her mother was still considering returning home, Bulma reassured her that there was no need for that and that she had everything under control.

"We love you so much," her mother said.

And then Bulma heard her father's familiar voice in the background.

"Love you, Bulma! Take care," he shouted.

"I love you guys too," she replied, her voice full of affection, and then she ended the call.

Bulma rolled onto her back, reveling in the warmth of her family's love. Her smile remained on her face as she stared at the ceiling. Her parents did have a deep bond. The way they cared for each other so effortlessly had always given Bulma hope—hope that maybe, one day, she could find something like that for herself.

She sighed deeply, her chest rising and falling. Bulma thought she'd had that once. With Yamcha...

But maybe one day, they could still find their way back to each other. Once the looming threat of the androids passed and the chaos they were about to face subsided, perhaps the two could reconnect.

The more Bulma thought about it, the more she liked that idea. It was comforting to imagine a future once the dust had settled and she didn't have to deal with the constant fear of the androids or her increasingly complicated relationship with Vegeta. Once all that was behind them, Bulma would be free. Free to live life on her own terms again, without the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Three years.

It wasn't that long, really. Once the androids were taken care of, Bulma could get back to her life and figure things out.

What was the worst that could happen in three years anyway?

Bulma stepped onto her balcony and the cool evening air brushed against her skin as she carried a pack of cigarettes outside. She flopped down into the lounge chair, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. Her fingers moved mechanically as she drew out a cigarette and lit it. The flicker of the flame briefly illuminated her face before she inhaled deeply. Holding the smoke in her lungs for a moment longer than usual, Bulma savored its sharpness. As she slowly exhaled, the tension in her body seemed to dissolve into the evening air.

She closed her eyes, letting herself relax fully, but Bulma's mind was anything but at peace. Her thoughts were consumed with the previous night, replaying over and over like a reel she couldn't stop. The sight of the gravity chamber made her heart skip a beat.

Bulma still could not wrap her head around how things had escalated between her and the Saiyan last night. They had gotten so close to each other. Bulma's hands even trembled as she ran her fingers through his hair, realizing that this was something far from the man she had once glimpsed through Baba Yaga's globe.

Then, there was the kiss she had given him. When Bulma lowered his head to place her lips upon his forehead, she was sure he would have pulled away, but surprisingly he hadn't. Vegeta had let her do it, and the moment had been so intimate and surreal that Bulma still wasn't sure it had really happened.

But what lingered the most in her mind, what made her swallow hard even now, was the moment when he pulled her closer. She could still remember the heat of his body as he pressed against her and the unmistakable hardness that had pressed against her stomach. The memory sent a shiver down Bulma's spine.

Taking another deep drag from the cigarette, Bulma tilted her head back against the lounge chair; she exhaled a thin puff, trying to calm the storm of emotion swirling inside her. They had stood together for less than ten minutes, but it had felt like an eternity. Every second had stretched out, charged with an intensity she had never felt before. And even now, sitting alone on her balcony, part of her wished she had done more. She wished she had wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Wished she had kissed him, not on his forehead, but on his lips.

A small, almost secretive smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she flicked the ash from her cigarette. With her parents gone for what would hopefully be the rest of the month, there was more than enough time to see where things with Vegeta would go. Time to explore whatever it was that had ignited between them. The thought of it sent a thrill through her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt excited about what the future might hold.

Taking another drag from her cigarette, Bulma's gaze wandered again to the gravity chamber, where she caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette passing by one of the rounded windows.

Without even thinking, she sat up straighter, and her pulse quickened as her eyes followed the fleeting figure. Blowing out the smoke, she frowned, wondering when exactly Vegeta had managed to worm his way into the fabric of her being. When had he become such a persistent presence in her mind, to the point where just the sight of him made her heart race? This realization unsettled her. It scared Bulma to realize just how much she thought about him and how much she really wanted him.

Bulma hadn't anticipated the intensity of her emotional and physical desire. The Saiyan was unlike anyone she had ever met before. And, despite his charm, Yamcha had never made Bulma feel the way the all-powerful Vegeta did when he stood before her.

As Vegeta passed by another window, she bit her lip, leaning forward unconsciously as if her very being was magnetized to him. Bulma's gaze locked onto the glowing red windows of the chamber, hoping to glimpse the Saiyan Prince another time.

Bulma imagined what it would be like to knock on the gravity chamber door.

Would he open it? Would that usual scowl be etched into his face? Or would there be something different in his eyes? A flicker of the same tension Bulma had felt the night before?

She imagined him letting her in and pulling her down to the bottom floor, where the small twin bed awaited. The thought of them using that bed for something other than sleep made her cheeks flush, and her body instinctively tensed in response to the heat that built inside her.

Her cigarette was nearly finished, and Bulma had already risen to her feet without realizing it. She leaned against the railing, the cool metal pressing against her skin as her gaze remained fixed on the chamber's windows. Bulma told herself that if she saw him again, if Vegeta crossed those windows one more time, she wouldn't just sit up here on her balcony and wonder; Bulma would go down there. She would knock on the door, and whatever happened next would be as if fate had heard her silent vow.

Eventually, his dark figure reappeared, striding across a window. And that was all it took. With a determined exhale, Bulma stubbed out the cigarette, tossing it into the bucket she kept tucked in the corner of the balcony. She didn't give herself time to second-guess or overthink. Her legs carried her swiftly toward the door, and before she knew it, she descended the stairs, each step taking her closer to whatever awaited her behind that gravity chamber door.

Standing outside, Bulma felt her heart pounding in her chest, louder and faster than it had any right to. The cool metal door loomed before her, and though the night air was cool, a nervous heat spread across her skin. She swallowed hard, trying to ease the lump in her throat. Her fingers trembled slightly as she raised her hand to knock. She had no idea what she would say to him once it opened, but Bulma didn't care right now.

Her knuckles rapped lightly against the door. The sound echoed faintly, swallowed by the hum of the gravity chambers' inner workings. She stepped back, eyes darting to the rounded windows, still glowing with the harsh red light that bled out into the backyard.

Minutes ticked by, and the silence pressed in on her. A bead of sweat slid down her temple, and Bulma realized she was holding her breath. Maybe he hadn't heard her. Or worse, she thought, maybe he was ignoring her. The thought of him brushing her off stung, but Bulma refused to back down so easily. She had already made it this far, so Bulma knocked again, harder this time, the sound louder and more forceful. Her fist lingered on the door for a second before she let it drop to her side. She glanced at the windows again, hoping, no, waiting for the red light to flicker out, for a sign that he'd heard her and was coming to the door.

But again, nothing.

The chamber hummed on, and her pulse quickened with each passing second. Bulma's thoughts raced. Was he avoiding her deliberately? Staying away from her within the safety of the gravity chamber. Was he avoiding her because he was scared of what had happened between them?

Bulma's hand hovered over the door again.

xXx

The soft knock echoed through the gravity chamber, cutting through the mechanical hum like a whisper against his skin. Vegeta cursed under his breath, standing as far from the door as possible. His chest rose and fell heavily, muscles aching from pushing himself harder than ever in the intense artificial gravity.

But it wasn't just the strain of training that had him breathless tonight. On the other side of that door stood the blue-haired woman, and the thought of her made his heart race in a way it never had before. He swallowed, feeling the dryness in his throat, but it did nothing to calm the restless storm inside him.

Vegeta's body betrayed him. A sharp twitch within his shorts made him clench his fists, and his breath caught in his throat as his cock began to stir. Vegeta's jaw tightened as the uncomfortable truth hit him; this feeling wasn't from the alcohol like those nights they'd spent together.

It was her, the blue-haired woman.

No—Bulma.

The very presence of her, just standing on the other side of the door, was enough to send a surge of heat through him. The pressure between his legs became unbearable as his cock swelled, straining against the confines of his shorts.

He licked his lips, tasting the salt of sweat on his skin as she knocked again, a little louder this time. His entire body tensed at the sound, his instincts pulling him toward her, toward whatever was waiting between them. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to answer, to open that door, and take her, but Vegeta remained rooted to the spot. He knew, with absolute certainty, what would happen if he gave in to this urge. If he let his finger hover over the button on the control panel and opened the door, it would all be over for him.

The image flashed through his mind, vivid and undeniable. He could already see it: pulling her into the chamber, their bodies colliding, his hands on her skin. He imagined taking her down to the lower level, to that small bed tucked away in the corner, and letting go of every last bit of restraint. He knew, with brutal clarity, that if he allowed himself even one taste, he wouldn't stop. He'd press her against him, let his hands explore every inch of her, and lose himself completely in the heat of it all.

And yet, no matter how much he wanted it—no matter how much his body screamed for it—Vegeta held his ground. His breath was ragged, his pulse wild, but he forced himself to stay where he was. He couldn't afford to lose control, not like this. He was a warrior, not some weakling who gave in to his desires.

But damn, she made it hard to resist.

After what felt like an eternity, the blue-haired woman finally turned around and headed back inside Capsule Corporation. Vegeta exhaled a long, pent-up breath as he snuck over to a window to watch her retreat. He'd been teetering on the edge of control, and now that she was gone, Vegeta could breathe easier. He was relieved, grateful even, that she hadn't stayed any longer. If she had, he wasn't sure what he might have done.

It took about five minutes for his arousal to subside. He closed his eyes, his fists clenched together, and focused on his breathing until he was certain his body would no longer interfere with his training. With her out of sight, away from the gravity chamber, he could finally think straight again.

As the minutes passed, and he sensed her deep within the house, Vegeta finally managed to move away from the window. He forced his mind back to his training, advancing on the bots as he'd been doing before her knock had thrown him into disarray. For hours, he worked relentlessly, throwing his body into the routine, pushing himself harder, faster. He needed to sweat out the unwanted distractions within his mind. To remind himself of his purpose, his strength. Each punch and kick was a way to burn off the fire she had ignited in him.

Eventually, the exhaustion he had been chasing finally caught up with him. After twelve hours of brutal training, Vegeta's muscles screamed for rest, and his movements began to slow. His body, drenched in sweat, ached with fatigue. He powered down the chamber, the hard red light flickering off as he slumped against the wall, his breath ragged.

Vegeta tried to clear his mind by resting his head against the cool metal. But, of course, thoughts of the woman crept back in soon after. He cursed himself, knowing the moment she had touched him, when her fingers had slid through his hair with tenderness, something had ignited deep inside him. A part of him, one Vegeta had long buried beneath layers of pride and discipline, had stirred in response to her touch, her closeness. He cursed himself again for it.

With a heavy sigh, Vegeta closed his eyes, but images of the blue-haired woman persisted. He could still feel her fingertips on his skin, her warmth against him, and the softness of her lips touching his forehead. He cursed as his cock shifted again, twitching as he imagined her touching him like that again, tracing his body, caressing him. The thought of taking her, of losing himself in her, sent a surge of heat through him, and he groaned in frustration, cursing his own weakness.

Vegeta looked down at his returning erection, and his breath came out in a harsh, uneven burst as he fought to regain control.

Damn her!

Vegeta didn't want this. Didn't want her to have this power over him. But every time he thought he had pushed her out of his mind, she somehow slipped back in, tempting him, pulling him deeper into his own desires.

Vegeta inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to steady himself. She was back inside the house now, far away from him, but he could still sense her presence. The distance brought him a sliver of calm, a thin thread of control that Vegeta clung to. He was glad that she was no longer outside of the chamber. He needed to regain his focus, shove all thoughts of her aside, and return to his training. To his purpose of becoming a Super Saiyan.

And yet, even as Vegeta tried to convince himself of this, his mind betrayed him. He couldn't stop thinking about her. A small, very insignificant part of him, one he loathed to acknowledge, wished she would come back to knock on the door again.

But in reality, Vegeta knew he didn't want her. He couldn't afford to. He had too much at stake. Too much to focus on right now. He clenched his fists, jaw tight, and forced the thoughts away the best he could. He didn't want to be weak. He didn't want to want her.

But yet, deep down, he knew he was lying to himself.

xXx

The next day, Bulma bit her bottom lip, trying to keep her emotions in check as she exited the kitchen while avidly avoiding looking out the window towards the backyard. The air around her felt heavy, pressing in on her chest as she headed into her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. Her heart sank as she fought back the stinging sensation in her eyes, almost on the verge of tears yet again.

Bulma stared at her bed, wanting to dive in between the sheets to wallow in her self-embarrassment, but instead, she walked toward her desk and sank into the chair, feeling utterly drained. The small diary she had written in the day before after leaving the gravity chamber lay open on her desk. She swallowed hard, her throat tight, and reached for the pen, her hands trembling slightly as she began to write.

Bulma's thoughts spiraled in a chaotic blur. Vegeta not answering when she knocked on the chamber door yesterday had rattled her to the core. She had hoped that things might be different between them after the other night. Bulma had allowed herself to believe something had changed, even a little bit.

"Stupid," she muttered under her breath, cursing herself.

That's what she got for thinking their relationship had shifted in any meaningful way. The connection she thought she'd felt, the strange closeness after all the tension, had all been in her head. Bulma's mind had latched onto the Saiyan and spun the idea of them into something more than it was. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, blinking rapidly as she put pen to paper, trying to make sense of her emotions.

As Bulma wrote, the truth hit her hard, causing another tear to slip down her face. She had gotten ahead of herself. She had been foolish to think that the moments between them had meant anything more. She sniffed and wiped her face, the sting of rejection burning in her chest. She had let herself believe that she could go to him… Talk to him…

Bulma had thought he might welcome her, but now here she was, humiliated.

This was the cold, hard reality she needed to face, though. She was useful to Vegeta only for maintaining the bots for him, nothing more, nothing less. Yes, there was a physical draw between them, but Bulma had let herself think it went deeper than that.

This had been a brutal wake-up call. Embarrassment and disappointment coiled in her gut as she scribbled furiously in her diary. From now on, she vowed she wouldn't make the same mistake again. If Vegeta needed her, he knew where to find her.

Tears welled in her eyes again, and she let them fall silently onto the page this time.