.::TWENTY-FOUR::.

Bulma woke the next morning to the deep, rhythmic sound of Vegeta's snoring. He lay on his back, his chest rising and falling steadily, the usual sharp lines of his face softened by sleep. His mouth was slightly open, and for once, his ever-present scowl had smoothed into something peaceful. She smiled, pushing her hair out of her face to get a better look at him.

She rarely saw him like this, so unguarded and at ease. The sight sent warmth through her chest. Was it love, she wondered? The thought flashed across her mind so suddenly that it startled her. The idea should scare her, but instead, it settled deep within her, feeling right in a way she couldn't explain. As her eyes traced over, Bulma felt an overwhelming certainty that this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

She thought back to the way he had collapsed in his room, the way his body had trembled as he clung to her as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the present. He had been afraid, truly afraid, trapped in whatever nightmare had consumed him. Bulma hadn't hesitated to run to his side. She had held Vegeta, her own heart breaking as she felt his shuddering breaths against her.

She never imagined she would see Vegeta like that, so vulnerable, so… human in his suffering. Goku once told her about Vegeta breaking down on Namek, shedding tears before he died at Frieza's hand. Back then, she had been unwilling to believe it. But last night… last night had proven that the past still had its claws deep in him. He was still haunted, still carrying a weight far heavier than he let anyone see.

Bulma frowned as she studied Vegeta's sleeping face, as thoughts swirled around in her mind. She let out a quiet sigh and reached out, resting her hand on his forearm. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips. Last night could have ended in disaster. Thinking about the ball of energy he'd held sent a chill down her spine. If she had startled him in the wrong way, there could have been a hole in the wall of the house or, worse, a hole in her.

How long had he been having nightmares like that? The kind that jolted him awake and drove him out of bed into a dazed, sleepwalking state? Her fingers absently traced over the smooth expanse of his arm, feeling the heat of his skin as her mind churned. Somehow, despite the raw panic he'd been in last night, Bulma had calmed him down. It had worked, just holding him, pressing herself close, whispering to him. For a moment, she had reached him. That realization should have filled her with pride, and it had, all for a minute.

Then, he'd woken up.

The moment his eyes had snapped open, her touch immediately became unwelcome. His reaction had been instant. He shoved her away so forcefully that she'd had the wind knocked out of her, and the sting in her shoulder, as it had hit the wall, had been sharp, but the real wound had come after.

Bulma flinched as she recalled what he'd said to her. He had spat those words with such venom that his face twisted in fury. And for some reason, those words had shattered something inside her, making her feel a hundred times worse than the physical pain. But why? She wondered. Why had it hurt so damn much? She didn't even honestly know him. What little she knew came from secondhand stories, and none of them painted him in a flattering light: arrogant Saiyan Prince, mercenary, cold-blooded killer, monster.

And yet, after everything, he had come to her.

Last night, Vegeta had willingly entered her room. Bulma knew it must have taken every ounce of his pride to do so. He hadn't spoken to her the entire time last night, but she understood. With his arms around her, Bulma knew it was the closest thing to an apology she would get from him. And to her… it was enough.

When he wrapped his arms around Bulma, pulling her close, she made her decision when it came to the Saiyan. She forgave him. She knew how much it cost him to come into her room after their heated exchange. Smiling softly to herself, Bulma shifted closer, letting her body mold against him. Her head rested against the firm muscle of his bicep, and a deep sense of contentment settled over her. The steady rhythm of his breathing was almost hypnotic, lulling her toward sleep once more.

But then, his arm twitched against her cheek. Blinking, she stirred and lifted her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. Sleep still clung to his face, but Bulma's heart gave a sudden, unsteady flutter as his dark eyes held hers. She was at a sudden loss for words, but Vegeta moved before she could even form something to say. He turned her effortlessly, pulling her back against his chest. His strong arms encircled her as they had last night. She smiled to herself, reveling in the warmth of his arms and the feel of his head resting against hers.

xXx

Vegeta buried his head in her hair, his eyes sliding shut as he inhaled deeply. Her scent filled his lungs, grounding him in a way he hadn't expected. And in a way, he found he was growing accustomed. His grip on her tightened as he mulled that thought over, fingers curling against the fabric of her clothing. Vegeta's theory had been correct. Somehow, this woman quelled his nightmares, making sleep come easily so he could sleep peacefully through the night.

Now, in the quiet morning, with his arms wrapped protectively around her, he felt… complete. Vegeta felt strong in a way that had nothing to do with training. His usually restless mind felt clearer, steadier. Could it really be because of this woman beside him? He listened to the soft, even rhythm of her breathing, his brows knitting together in thought. What was it about her? What unseen force within her had made such a difference in him?

Though Vegeta despised himself for this relentless churn of thoughts and emotions, things he had long since trained himself to suppress, he couldn't deny the simple truth that last night had been some of the best sleep he'd ever had. Deep, uninterrupted, and shockingly peaceful. He couldn't even recall a time in his past when he had woken up feeling this well-rested. This… calm.

He was completely baffled by her. At first, his attraction to her had been purely physical. It had been frustrating how easily his body had betrayed him at just the sight of her. But now, lying here with her pressed against him, something had shifted. Vegeta's body was still attuned to hers, but not in the urgent, feverish way it had been before. His cock remained still, despite their closeness, yet he knew, without a shred of doubt, that if she so much as turned in his arms and let her hands wander, it would take only a breath before he hardened beneath her touch.

And yet, he was content like this—just holding her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. That realization alone was enough to send another ripple of unease through him. What had changed? His grip on her instinctively tightened to confirm that she was real, that this moment wasn't some illusion, some dream. To his surprise, she reached out without hesitation, her fingers curling around his arms, holding him just as firmly.

She was an incredibly beautiful woman, something Vegeta had noticed from the beginning, though he had never allowed himself to dwell on it. But now, with her lying quietly beside him, he found himself admiring her. He found solace in this rare moment of silence between them, simply allowing himself to take her in without distraction. The peace was short-lived though. A loud unmistakable growl broke the silence.

Bulma let out an embarrassed laugh. "Guess I'm hungry."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Go eat," he said simply.

Not expecting any reaction at all, when she rolled over to face him, a flicker of tension sparked through his chest. For a brief moment, Vegeta felt cornered, his instincts urging his usual shut down, but he caught the faint, playful smile on her lips and the warmth in her gaze and found himself calming down instantly.

"Your mother's downstairs cooking already," he informed her, keeping his expression neutral.

Bulma inhaled deeply, her brows furrowing. "Can you smell it?" she asked him.

He nodded once. "And I can hear her down there too."

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head. "Of course you can."

Vegeta watched as she stretched, her shirt lifting to expose the smooth skin underneath. He forced his gaze away, looking out the window. He could feel her eyes on him, but before he could say something, she pushed back the blankets and suddenly sprang up from the bed. He had no time to react before she bolted across the room and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. The abruptness of her actions caught him off guard, but after a moment, he smirked. Vegeta exhaled and sank back against the pillows, folding his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. Vegeta allowed himself to relax. It was strange how easy it was to do so in this room, in this bed… with her.

The bathroom door creaked open a moment later, and Bulma emerged.

"Do you want to go down to eat with me?" she asked, her voice casual but slightly nervous.

Vegeta turned his head toward her, studying her for a beat longer than necessary. Normally, he preferred to eat alone, but the idea of sitting with her for a meal, even with her parents downstairs, didn't seem so terrible.

"Tch," he scoffed playfully, rolling onto his side. "If I must."

Bulma smirked at him, clearly not fooled by his reluctant act, and without another word, she turned toward the door.

xXx

"I think you're overreacting, darling. I'm sure everything is quite alright."

Panchy stopped stirring the batter and slowly turned, giving her husband a pointed stare.

"I'm NOT overreacting!" The spatula in her hand became an extension of disapproval as she gestured toward him with emphasis.

Her husband chuckled, holding up his hands in playful surrender.

"Okay, okay!" He grinned. "You're not overreacting. But what I will say is—"

He suddenly fell silent, and Panchy frowned at the abrupt pause and turned around again to find what had stopped him mid-sentence. Bulma had entered the kitchen and made her way to the coffee pot. But it wasn't just Bulma; Vegeta trailed in behind her, his arms crossed, his usual scowl in place.

The sight of them together left Panchy momentarily speechless. Her eyes widened as her daughter reached for the coffee pot, asking Vegeta if he wanted some as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Bulma pulled two mugs from the cabinet.

"Good morning, you two," Dr. Brief called out, his voice calm, though Panchy caught his surprise.

"Morning, Daddy," Bulma replied, glancing over her shoulder as she poured a second cup of coffee.

Panchy turned her attention back to the food, biting her bottom lip to stifle the smile across her face.

"Breakfast's almost done!" Panchy announced cheerfully.

"Smells good, Mom," Bulma said as she carried both coffee mugs to the table. "But it always does."

"Aww, thank you, sweetie!" Panchy beamed.

As she finished cooking and began plating the food, she looked out the corner of her eye. Bulma was sitting next to Vegeta in the small breakfast nook, their steaming coffees sitting in front of them on the table. Panchy watched as Bulma leaned in close, talking softly to him with animated eyes.

Panchy coudln't believe her eyes. Just a few months ago, those two could barely tolerate sharing the same air, let alone a quiet conversation over morning coffee. But yet, here they were.

Though it was Bulma doing the talking, Panchy couldn't help but notice something. Vegeta actually seemed engrossed in what she was saying. Though his usual scowl remained with his brows drawn together, there was something different about the way he watched Bulma talk.

As she finished cooking the last bit of breakfast, Panchy couldn't help but think back to all those years her daughter had been with Yamcha. Their relationship had been turbulent; each time they'd broken up, it had always ended in tears for Bulma. Panchy had often been there for her daughter during those times, offering warm embraces and reassurances. She'd told her daughter often that it would be better one day. That she would and could find someone who didn't break her heart so frequently. And now, as she watched Bulma talking animatedly with the stoic, intimidating Saiyan who was actually giving her his undivided attention, Panchy couldn't help the swell of hope that bloomed within her chest that maybe Bulma had found that exact someone.

"Food's ready!" Panchy finally announced, pulling plates from the cabinet and setting them on the counter.

"Oh, goodie! I'm starving!" Bulma said as she rose from her seat. But before walking away, she turned toward the table. "You coming, Vegeta?"

Panchy kept her expression neutral as Bulma and Vegeta moved toward the kitchen. When they were loading their plates, she chanced a quick glance at her husband, who was still seated on the island. He gave her a knowing look, his mustache twitching with amusement. Oh, how interesting breakfast was turning out to be, Pancy thought.

xXx

Later that afternoon, after a strange breakfast with her parents and Vegeta, Bulma found solace in the quiet of her office at Capsule Corp. She sat at her computer, refining the rounded bots' schematics.

Bulma had held onto a backup set of bots for months, not wanting to give them to Vegeta unless absolutely necessary. But today, after breakfast, Vegeta had gone to the gravity chamber and collected the shattered remnants of the bots he'd destroyed. Bulma was still eating at the table when he returned to the kitchen and handed her the capsule. Vegeta's gesture was so uncharacteristic that she had nothing to say when he placed it in her hand. It had been so thoughtful and unexpected that Bulma immediately offered him her backup bots without hesitation.

Leaning back in her chair, Bulma let out a slow sigh, her gaze focused on the glowing screen before her. Her life had changed in ways she never could have predicted. When Goku had first brought Vegeta into their world, she had never imagined that the brooding, battle-hardened Saiyan would become so entwined in her life. And yet, here she was, her thoughts consumed by him, her heart and mind overrun with his very presence. Vegeta wasn't just some unwelcome houseguest anymore.

He was everything.

Last night, when she'd entered Vegeta's room, her world had been turned upside down. Bulma had foolishly thought she could help him, only to be forcibly pushed away. She had left, convinced that she would never see him again. That he would stay away for good this time. But then, against everything, Vegeta had come to her. He had stepped into her bedroom and, without a word, joined her in bed, wrapping his arms around her.

The single act had completely undone her. The hurt, the anger—all of it had melted away when she felt his warmth against her. He hadn't needed to say anything; his actions had spoken louder than his words ever could. She knew that, with him crossing that threshold and seeking her out on his own, it was meant as an apology.

Bulma honestly couldn't believe it. She smirked as she looked at the other monitor and typed away on the computer.

"There you are," she murmured as she pulled up the live feed from the gravity chamber.

Vegeta was suspended mid-air, his body tense with concentration. He effortlessly evaded a barrage of energy blasts from the rounded bots, his movements calculated and fast in a seamless display of power. Bulma leaned in, biting her lip, captivated, her eyes drinking in every detail. Her gaze traced the muscles in his back, watching them ripple and contract beneath his skin. Vegeta twisted midair, landing easily on his feet before launching into a series of flips to avoid another oncoming attack. Each motion was precise, and his body was a perfect blend of muscle and control. He was downright intoxicating as his body glistened with sweat, accentuating the sculpted definition of his exposed skin. He exuded strength, and it was undeniably alluring. Bulma swallowed hard. Work was the last thing on her mind now.

"I know you're watching me, woman," Vegeta's voice rang out, sharp and smug.

Bulma jolted in her seat, her heart pounding.

She forced nonchalance into her voice. "What can I say? I enjoy the view."

A short, amused bark of laughter escaped him. "Ha!"

He turned in midair, his piercing black eyes locking onto the camera mounted atop the inactive television in the gravity chamber.

"How did you even know I was watching?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at her computer.

Vegeta smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's a red light that turns on."

She groaned, slumping back in her chair.

"So much for being sneaky," she admitted with a laugh.

To Bulma's surprise, he laughed again, and the sound sent warmth through her chest. A wide smile spread across her face, and she reveled in the moment as Vegeta, the Prince of the Saiyans, a battle-hardened warrior and notorious grump, genuinely smiled, too.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" he teased, his voice lighter than usual.

Bulma's smile widened, wanting to turn on the monitor so he could see her, but she thought better of it.

"Didn't you know, Vegeta? I'm the queen of multitasking!"

His smirk deepened, and for a brief second, the world outside of this moment didn't exist. Her heart swelled in a way she hadn't felt in… Kami. How long had it been?

Bulma's smile faltered slightly as the realization hit her. It had been months, maybe longer since she had felt this happy, this light. Lately, her life had been a blur of stress, disappointment, and uncertainty. And yet, the person who had pulled her out of that darkness was the last person she ever would have expected.

Vegeta, the man who had once come to Earth intending to procure the Dragon Balls, who had been the reason Yamcha was brutally killed, who had nearly destroyed Goku… and now, somehow, he had been the one to make her feel something Bulma didn't really want to put into words.

Vegeta shook his head and turned around to resume his training, but now Bulma watched with a different kind of awareness. He knew she was watching him. More than that, he was allowing her to watch. Well... he hadn't told her to stop at least. That simple fact sent a delicious thrill through her.

The Vegeta she had first met would have never permitted this. The idea of a human woman observing him in his training would have been unthinkable. But now… here they were.

Bulma leaned forward, eyes drinking in every detail, unabashed in her admiration since he couldn't see her. The flex and shift of his muscles beneath his skintight shorts, the way sweat traced paths down his skin as he moved, and the sheer power he radiated with every perfectly executed strike was mesmerizing. And, if she was being honest with herself, incredibly arousing.

With great reluctance, Bulma tore her gaze away reminding herself that she did indeed actually have work to do. She turned back to her schematics, but she wasn't about to give up on her front-row seat entirely. On her second monitor, she kept the live feed of the gravity chamber running.

For the next two hours, she split her focus between the intricate algorithm she was developing for the rounded bots and the raw display of Vegeta's strength. But eventually, as she dug deeper into the schematics, her focus became solely on her work, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Bulma was so absorbed that she didn't notice when the gravity chamber powered down on the second monitor. It took several moments before she registered the change. She glanced at the feed from the gravity chamber to find it completely empty. Frowning, she quickly rewound the footage. Her pulse kicked up when she spotted him again. Bulma watched as he landed smoothly on the ground, powered down the chamber, and walked out.

"Where did you go?" she whispered to herself.

"Right here."