She was always like this before a date. Bulma had not seen Yamucha in a long time, thus she was filled with excess energy which could not be expended with just the wide grin she had been wearing since she awoke that morning. She had to do some old fashioned cleaning. Bulma decided to toss in her "Hits of the 1980's!" compilation CD and turn the volume to Cineplex proportions. She started scrubbing the kitchen tiles, singing "Million Miles Away." She made little field trips to the sound system to turn the volume up just a little. It won't bother anyone, besides, I'm the only one home! she exclaimed to herself. She jammed herself back to the kitchen and decided to start on the floor.

    Vegeta stopped in mid sit-up. What was that racket? He stood up, switched the gravity back to normal and stormed out of the gravity room. He followed the noise as it grew louder. Then it was accompanied by a voice. A horribly off-key voice. Both the music (if one could call it that) and the singing (again, it's a matter of perspective) echoed through the hallways and into his ears. Vexing. As if he did not already have enough to deal with, he entered the kitchen to see the loudest woman on Earth dancing with a broom.

    "The loooove shack is a little ol' place where we can get togeeether!" Bulma wailed, twirling her broom. "Looove shack, baby love shack!" She felt especially ebullient with mirth and anticipation of seeing her boyfriend later. Maybe they would go dancing, or . . . Bulma dipped with her broom, mock dancing with Yamucha. She opened an eye and saw a Saiya-jinn prince staring at her looking absolutely perplexed. Immediately, Bulma leaned back too far, slipped, and landed flat on her back. The sound system still played, yet the room seemed silent.

    Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I didn't think you were here . . .heheh, umm wanna dance?" She joked, trying to not to sound as mortified as she felt. Vegeta's eyebrow lifted further.

    "How could you not know that I was here?"

    "Um, well, you just kind of disappear into that gravity room. You never talk to anybody. You would think that Mr. Ego, Prince of the Saiya-jinn would make his presence known."

    Vegeta grunted. But Bulma was still in a good mood. Things could not bode any worse for the short prince. "Oh, c'mon Vegeta, you need to loosen up a little. Just dance."

    "No."

    "C'mon!"

    "No."

    "Just a little?"

    "I don't dance."

    "Sure you do."

    "No I don't."

    "Don't tell me that fighting isn't like dancing."

    Vegeta glared at her, more confused. "I don't get that one."

    "I'll have to show you then." Bulma tentatively took one of his hands, questioning him with her eyes. "Noone else is here, and noone would believe me if I told them." Vegeta looked around nervously. "Pleeeeaase!"

    "No."

    "Well, then I guess Goku is better than you at this. By default, that is."

    "Kakorrotto dances?"

    Bulma nodded her head, restraining herself from looking mischievous. Vegeta looked around some more before shrugging his shoulders and accepting. "Okay, Vegeta, like fighting, dancing requires concentration, timing, coordination, and technique, like so . . . hmmm, this is the wrong song for this dance. I'll be riiight back." Bulma skipped out of the kitchen and into the next room, changed the CD track, and on her way back adjusted the hidden security camera This has GOT to be useful someday! She snickered to herself. She sauntered back into the kitchen. "All right, where were we? Yes, coordination . . ." Bulma quickly found out that Vegeta was a swift learner. Watching her friends train in martial arts did remind her a bit of dancing, but actually dancing reminded her of something completely different altogether. She looked up at Vegeta. He looked down at her. Something hung palpably in the air. Oh, no, I'm not having a 'moment' with Vegeta. I've got too much turned upside down in my life for this to happen.

    Vegeta knew not what to think of himself. He almost admitted that the obsession with defeating Kakorrot had gone too far, with him dancing of all things with this overbearing, bossy, self-absorbed woman. But then, he was not against having a woman's hands all over him--the last time that had happened was almost too long ago to recall. In fact, having any physical contact with anyone seemed far away. He had not even sparred with anyone. Realizing this, he felt even more miserable than he had been before. He looked down at the lively sprite in his arms, and a shadow of envy crossed his mind. She had this someone--Yamucha, her 'boyfriend' whatever to yell at all the time. Even though he didn't like him, Vegeta missed having Napa around to insult.

    "Well, look at the time! I have a date in two hours and now I'm covered in Saiya-jinn sweat!" Bulma squealed. "Besides, don't you have training to do?!"

    "I was just about to leave. Now we both know that I'm better than Goku."

    "Well, that's up to Goku. I haven't danced with him."

    "WHAT?!"

    "Better shower, bye!" Bulma nervously announced as she ran out of the room. As she tore down the hall, "In Your Eyes" continued to play. Leave it up to Peter Gabriel to put me in a mood.

    "She tricked me? SHE TRICKED ME?!!" Furious, Vegeta ground his teeth for having his pride insulted, and above all being tricked by her, the most intolerable creature he had ever met. He turned to leave, wondering how she had managed to do it. The source of the music changed, becoming more distant. Bulma had transferred the speaker feed to her shower. The house had more gadgetry than any one place he had been before. Well, at least some of it was useful. Vegeta sulked his way back to the gravity chamber, and tried to train the experience in the kitchen out of his mind.

    Bulma scrubbed her hair, humming. She was still disturbed about what she had orchestrated in the kitchen. She never honestly thought that she would get Vegeta to dance with her! She did not in fact, even really want to. She tossed her hair back and let the water wash over her face. Come to think of it, when she did see Vegeta around, he always looked less than happy. Well, he never did, but now he had almost an air of listlessness about him. Quite un Vegeta-like. What she did remember about him on Namek was that he was full of purpose and determination--single-mindedly villainous, but definitely in his own element. He was rather out of place here. She frowned, suddenly pitying him. He had been brought back to life by accident, to a place where he did not belong, where nobody respected him like he expected. He was a side-effect to a well-intentioned wish. It was almost cruel.

    "Well, I suppose he deserves it, that jerk," Bulma asserted out loud. She switched off the water and stepped out. She toweled herself off, and reached for her comb. The day had started off so well, with Yamucha sitting heavily on her mind. But now . . . it was drifting. She finished combing and drying her hair, then started dressing herself. She tossed on her little black dress and racy red lipstick. She posed in the mirror, thinking to herself I'm too sexy for this dress, too sexy for this dress . . . Yamucha look out! She checked her watch. Almost time to leave.

    Vegeta could not concentrate. Thinking that fresh air would be in order, he stepped outside onto the balcony. Depression hardly ever hit him, but when it did, it hit hard, especially now. All his dreams had been stolen from him. Kingdom--gone. Defeating Freeza--whoosh. Immortality--zip. Being the greatest warrior in the Universe--well, he would work on that one. But right now, even that seemed empty. He sat and watched the sun descend. Below him, a door creaked open. He got up and peered over the edge. The annoying one emerged--the crafty one--wearing well, not much. Yamucha was waiting outside. She giggled a greeting and hopped into his cruiser. She had been correct though, about the dancing. It did have the same elements of fighting. He had never seen it that way before. How odd. His entire situation was uncomfortably strange. He wondered what else the blue-haired spore would reveal to him. Well, maybe it would be useful someday.

    It was not until late at night, or technically early in the morning, that Bulma returned. She did not come home alone or sober, either. Vegeta had been dozing on the couch when he heard the door swing open, and slightly hushed laughter. "Don't worry there's noone home. Haha! Oooh, you're a naughty boy. Ha ha ha HA! Come in and have a drink."

    "I don't think you can hold another one."
 
    "That means 'come in the house and hop in my bed,' Yamucha," Bulma growled, trying to sound seductive. It came out slightly slurred, though. Vegeta had enough; he grabbed a pillow off the couch and dragged himself to the backyard. He tried to settle down, but he found himself unable to sleep. Looking off into the distance, Vegeta tried to wrestle with the almost physical pain which had tortured his mind since he awoke here. Alone . . . Frustrated, he leapt into the air and flew away, not knowing or caring where he went. He found himself at the site where he had first fought Kakorrot. He stood, looking over the canyon, wondering why he brought him to a place that only reminded him of his pain. It seemed like he sought it out. He realized that there was something with a noticeable energy level approaching. He turned, ready to fight, and saw the Namek, Piccolo, descend.

    "It's you, Namek."

    "What are you doing here, Princeling? Shouldn't you be training over at the Capsule Corporation?"

    "It's getting a little crowded there. I prefer to work alone."

    "It's really in your bests interests if you stay there," Piccolo grunted.

    "Why does it concern you?"

    "You're going to have to be strong to defeat these new enemies, and you won't get that way moping around the planet feeling sorry for yourself!"

    "What do you know? I am the Prince of the Saiya-jinn, I have no need to feel sorry for myself! I'll be the greatest Saiya-jinn warrior ever! These new enemies won't stand a chance against the mighty Vegeta!"

    Piccolo looked into his piercing coal-black eyes and sullenly lowered his voice : "Vegeta, you won't get there alone. It took that little brat of Goku's to teach me that," he scrutinized Vegeta's face, then continued : "and I'm not any softer for it. Ask my enemies." Then he left. Vegeta stared up after him. The Namek knew something that he did not. Enigmatical. He wandered away to a place where he could sit and think things through. So he found a tree and sat. His thoughts wound around his encounter with Piccolo, his strange words, and then back to Bulma in the kitchen. If he were just better than Kakorrot, everything would make sense. He must train, and in order to do so, he had to get back to the gravity room. Navy sky turned to gray, and rays of light began to peek over the horizon as the sun rose. Vegeta stood up and began his journey to the Capsule Corporation. As soon as he arrived, he took the back entrance and headed for his gravity room and began a brutal training session.

    Bulma woke up. She was still tired, but either the blindingly bright sun streaming through her window or her aching skull brought her out of her slumber. Yamucha was already gone, but he left a note:

    "Sorry, but when I woke up you were still asleep. I did not want to wake you up, but I still have to train some more! Had fun last night, we should go clubbing more often. Call you later.

                                                                                                 -Yamucha"
 
    She sighed, then rubbed her temples. "Coffeeee. I need coffeee . . ," she groaned, and stumbled out of bed, eyes half closed, half blinded by the sun. She staggered to the kitchen and groped for the coffee pot and a mug. She had it set to make her coffee fresh and hot every morning. Her arm shook as she poured into her personalized mug. Half asleep, she managed to plop herself at the table in a semi-zombie-like state. No sooner had she taken a sip did she realize someone was having a bowl of cereal. Or several boxes of cereal and most of the fruit from the refrigerator to be exact.

    "So what trick did you use to get him into bed with you woman?!"

    "Dammit Vegeta! Do you have to be so loud! I have a fucking hangover. Besides, that's none of your business! Have you been talking to Oolong or were you peeking last night?! Dirty bastard!"

    "Hey, you announced it to the world when you stumbled in at 3:30 piss-drunk. Even Saiya-jinn need their sleep! I can't have old wantons breaking up my training schedule!!"

    A fork and a plate came flying at him. He ducked. "You impertinent ass! I am NOT old and I am NOT a wanton! I don't need to hear this when I wake up in the morning with a goddamn hangover!!"

    "He left kind of early, didn't he?"

    "What are you saying? He's going to pop the question to me any day now, you see you self absorbed, under-grown dirty monkey!!"

    "And what question would that be, old woman? 'When will you ever leave me alone??"

    Bulma flew out of her chair, her veins straining from her neck, screaming: "NO! He's going to ask me, the young, beautiful, vivacious Bulma to MARRY him! I'll live happily ever after with two kids, a successful share of Capsule Corp, and a DOG, so ha! You'll STILL be trying to beat Goku!"

    At that Vegeta stood up and pointed a finger at her, his voice rising :"MARRY? YOU?! Yeah, you get him nice and drunk, then maybe, but he'll leave you in a few short years for a younger, more beautiful woman!! But that won't matter because I'll beat Kakorroto and take over this fucking planet, blow it up and LEAVE, then I'll never have to deal with you again! You'll be a damned failure, you hear me?! But what I really doubt is if he'd marry you in the first place! How often do I hear that he's with a different girl every night, where's your pride? You're always playing sloppy SECONDS!! You're weak and pathetic!" He screamed, slamming a fist on the table, and inevitably splintering the table where he did so.

    Bulma was not going to let him see her cry. She would not let him get to her, no matter what. But it hurt, it hut a lot because what he said was so true, although she doubted that he would ever beat Goku. However, the rest was all too probable. He was evil; he knew just how to play upon her doubts and twist half-truths just enough to cut her to the core. "I have work to do," she said with dangerous calm. Picking up her mug, she wondered into her shop, close the door, and sobbed. Vegeta returned to his training with a new fervor in order to combat his frustrations which only had compounded when he fought with her.

    Confident that Vegeta had returned to his training, Bulma ran outside and hopped in a cruiser in order to head to the Son residence. She and ChiChi did not always get along, but she was pretty much the only other woman she considered a friend. Her eyes blurred with tears, she ran to the door and banged on it. ChiChi answered and gasped when she saw Bulma red and puffy with her constant tears. "Yamucha again?!" She asked. Bulma bit her lip and shook her head. "What is it? Come in and have some tea. Tell me everything."

    "It's living with that Vegeta! It's so horrible, just listen to what he said this morning!" she wailed, and recounted the morning's events. ChiChi patted her back and handed her a cup of tea. Goku walked in.

    "Back from training already?"

    "Just coming for a visit. Hey? What's wrong with Bulma? Yamucha again?"

    Bulma burst out crying again. ChiChi filled her husband in. He knelt down and looked at her, knowing that he had to fix this little problem, for everyone's sake. "Bulma?"

    She sniffled.

    "Bulma, we both know how intolerable Vegeta is. But I'll let you in on something that I know. Now way back when I first fought him, there was a reason I didn't let the others kill him before he left. I just knew that there was a part of him that wasn't evil. Just before he died on Namek, I think he shed a tear or two. He's probably a sensitive guy. He refuses to acknowledge it, though."

    "Well, that doesn't help me at all."

    "Bulma, just trust me that someday he'll find that little bit of good in him. As for living with   him now, I don't know what to tell you. But I'm sure he's found his match when it comes to tempers."

    Bulma sniffed and gave both Goku and ChiChi big hugs, whispered a "thank you," and returned home. She splashed cold water on her face and decided to rest by the pool for the remainder of the day. She floated on her raft, reading Stephen Hawking and sipping a strawberry daiquiri when an unwelcome figure blocked her sun.

    "Drinking again so soon?"

    "It's a virgin."

    "You're not."

    At this, Bulma reached to the pool deck where she had a bowl of baby carrots and ranch dressing sitting. She pulled her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose, reached over, picked one up, dipped it, placed it suggestively in her mouth, sucked off the dressing, then very deliberately looked into his eyes and viciously bit off the tip. She noticed him suppress a slight shudder, and smiling, she pushed up her sunglasses and continued reading her book. He walked away.

    The house had been quiet; too quiet. Bulma was tempted for a second to throw a circuit breaker just to turn off the gravity room, but nixed the thought as soon as it came into her mind. Though he was a nuisance, Vegeta just might be helpful against these mysterious new enemies which they were supposed to encounter. If she managed to get him angry enough to blow up the gravity room, leave or do more substantial damage, he would never be strong enough to do any good in the upcoming fight. She scratched her head where sweat had begun to bead underneath her scalp. But Goku would be there; he would save the day once again. She had nothing to worry about. But then something in the back of her mind still plagued her. Everyday she had an annoying sense of foreboding. Something important loomed on the horizon. She was going to be part of it. Bulma wiped the sweat off her brow and tightened another bolt. Maybe she would finally finish restoring this Mustang. That had to be it.

    Her father knocked on the door. She rolled out from underneath the powder-blue car, covered in grease and sweat. "My daughter the grease monkey," he sighed.

    "I think that quite literally is in his royal highness' gravity room."

    "You said it yourself that he wasn't all bad when you invited him to stay here."

    Bulma sniffed.

    "Don't forget that you have that gala opening tonight. Clients want us there, you know. Who better to send than our most glamorous assistant?" He smiled, leaning in the doorway.

    "Of course I didn't forget! I've been hounding Yamucha all week to come with me."

    "Really? Then you can get ready in oh, say three hours?"

    Bulma screamed. "AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! I DON'T EVEN HAVE MY DRESS BACK FROM THE CLEANERS!!" Quickly looking at her hands, she wailed: "MY NAIIILLLLSS!" Her father just sighed and stepped aside as she bolted out of the room on her mission to get to the cleaners before it closed.

    Vegeta peered into the depths of the well-lit refrigerator, it's cool aura chilling the fine layer of sweat which lay on his skin. Living off-world had taught him many things about survival, particularly on planets on which you were not welcome, which to him were pretty much all of them. When food was not available, simply eat your opponents. It worked for him. But this was a different animal all together: leftovers. A box of cold pizza lay in the corner, and in the other sat a foil-covered something which had been there for as long as he could remember. Cold pizza would do for now. A door burst open, and Bulma exploded into the room with it, wailing.

    "Dammit woman, don't you ever shut up!" Vegeta growled.

    Bulma had a strange look in her eyes. "I have to be at a gala opening in less than three hours, and I have no dress, I'm covered in grease from head to toe and if I don't show up we'll lose this client and then our stock will plummet then--"

    "Then you should stop barking at me and get moving!"

    She screamed again and pounded down the hall. Soon after, Dr. Briefs entered the room, one eyebrow cocked in wonderment. "I don't know where she gets it from. Neither her mother nor I are that loud."

    Vegeta eyed him. "What is she so worked up about? Your company isn't so fragile that one client will affect it," he snorted.

    "I didn't know you paid attention," Dr. Briefs replied. "But true enough, and she knows it too. In fact, I could throw on a tux and be down there in 15 minutes if I really needed to. She just wants to go because she missed prom."

    Vegeta snorted. "What's that?"

    "Oh, it's an event that seems to be important to every teen-aged girl. They get all dressed up and go to a formal dance with their boyfriends. Bulma was always out on some adventure with Goku and the gang. If she had just stayed home, she probably would have met that boyfriend she wanted so desperately. Oh well. That gravity room working out for you?"

    Vegeta grunted in acknowledgement.

    "Good. Just holler if something needs fixing. It probably won't, though!" He exited, leaving Vegeta to eat in peace. He munched silently, contemplating his next move in order to become stronger, and listening to the the sounds of the house. Bulma was in the shower, and even over it's constant hiss, he could hear her worrying. Her mother knocked on the door, informing her that she had an old dress that would look fine and yes, it would fit. He had never encountered anything like this in all his years as a Saiya-jinn warrior, even when he lived at home. Bulma was now trying to convince her father to let her use his car, the nice one. Of course she would drive it carefully, Daddy please? Vegeta took another slice of aging pizza. Hmph. You would never find his kids so spoiled--where had that thought come from? Vegeta stared at the cheese on the pizza intently, remembering his father. His amazement and respect for that figure had been short lived. His life was to be a waiting game until he got old enough to rule. That would have been particularly annoying, as he was able to kill his father at quite a young age. Fortunately, he was allowed off-world to do what he did best. The whine of the hair-dryer drilled his ears.

    "Bulma, it'll be fine! You'll get wrinkles worrying like that. Calm down while the curling iron heats up. See! The dress does fit," her mother assured her.

    Women; he had dealt with them very little in his life. On Vegetasei, he had not trained with them. Saiya-jin females were a force to be reckoned with. Well, none of them could have challenged him, of course. Who was this creature, this woman whom he had but glimpsed on Namek? She had been cowering in fear, in absolute hysterics. He would have to be a complete idiot, like say Kakorrot, to not see that she was uncommonly beautiful, but aesthetics were a trivial matter. Now this same girl had the audacity to argue with him, to insult him, and upon inviting him to live at this place had actually acused him of wanting to seduce her. Well, she had admitted to just be joking about that, but at the time, it made him mighty uncomfortable. She often made attempts to make him feel not quite as awkward in this place, such as inviting him to a barbeque or even the occasional poker night. He could swear that she tried to pick fights with him, though.

    The phone rang.

    Bulma ran down the hall and lunged at the reciever. It was Yamucha. "WHAT?! What do you mean that you can't come tonight! Don't do this to me now, Yamucha. I-what? Fine! I don't need you, you jerk!! Just, just crawl back under the rock you came from! I can't believe that you're ditching tonight!! You've known for practically a month and-fine!" She screamed and slammed the reciever on the hook. In the kitchen, Vegeta continued to chew. Bulma stocked to the bathroom and stared at the mirror. She was not going to cry: it was too bad that she could not play tonight, but there was still work to do. Taking a deep breath, she finished putting on her makeup. She sighed. Fumbling with her earring, she looked at herself in the mirror. Such a shame that she looked so good tonight. The post snapped into place, and she straightened up, adjusting herself and positioning her jewelry. She snatched her purse and headed out to say good-bye to her father and mother.

    Vegeta had been intently studying the nutrition contents of a bottle of water when Bulma came out. Her mother beamed: "Oh, Bulma! You look like a princess!" He looked up. He dropped his pizza. As the wet smack! of the leftover Italian food hit the floor, heads turned.

    "Damn grease!" He quipped, ducking under the table to retrieve it.

    "Vegeta, what did I say was rule number one about living here?" crooned Bulma.

    "WOMAN!" Vegeta scowled, grasping for the pizza and swinging his head up to yell at her. He succeded in smacking his head on the bottom of the table. "Aaaarrrgh!" He stood up and left, trying to scrap together some sense of his immense pride as Bulma burst into laughter.

    Bulma watched him leave the room, rubbing the back of his head where it had collided with the underside of the table. Leave it to Vegeta to cheer her up; either his sick sense of humor or ridiculous attempts to appear princely could bring her back to reality in a second. The situation was not all bad, after all: if he noticed her, she had to be looking pretty damn good, she thought. As she went to the door to leave, her father stopped her. "Wait, dear. You'll be early. You were rushing so much now you have too much time!" He laughed. Checking her watch, she agreed. "Sit down, dear." They sat at the recently vacated table.

    "Of course Yamucha had to back out at the last second. Just like him," she huffed.

    "Well, Yamucha seems to be doing that a lot recently. Just because you brought him back to life with the dragon balls doesn't mean that-"

    "What do you mean?" She snapped.

    "He's still just a desert thief at heart, Bulma. He's the lone-wolf type."

    "No no no Daddy, we started going out and I changed-"

    "Don't even say it, Bulma. I'm talking from the male perspective here. The more you try to change them, the less they will," he sighed as he watched the hallway. He had the distinct feeling that this was a monitored conversation.

    Vegeta had always been the curious type. He always wanted to know why this-that-or the other worked, or what did not. He had learned to control his Oozaru form out of sheer boredom and just because he wanted to see if he could. He had also learned the art of sneaking around in a similar manner; neither techniques were traditionally Saiya-jinn attributes. Saiya-jinn preferred to be chaotic and loud whenever and wherever they wanted. This woman vexed him, and he had to find out why she did it so well; he had been insulted thousands of times by countless opponents, yet none could get under his skin the same way this one could; then she dared to look so good in that dress. So he stayed in the hallway, listening to her speak with her father. He peered around the corner to see her. How dare she do that to him! She should not be allowed to look that beautiful. As that thought danced through his head, Dr. Briefs caught sight of him. Vegeta froze. The man lifted his eyebrow quickly, then started speaking to his daughter.

    "Now is the time for you to start going after what you really want in life, Bulma. I suggest not wasting any more time. Your future at Capsule Corporation depends on it. Are you going to be a go-gettum girl, or mope about Yamucha?"

    "You're right Daddy," she sighed.

    "Just wait a few more minutes to calm down, then go ahead and go." He looked up again, and sure enough, the hall was empty.

    The night air had a slight chill to it, and stars sparkled above. City lights lit the horizon. Bulma took out the capsule which held her father's sporty hovercraft and lifted her hand to throw it to the ground, when someone landed behind her.

    "Flying solo tonight?"

    "V-Vegeta?" she questioned, spinning on her spiked heels. Wide-eyed, she continued, "why are you dressed up?"

    "Curious as to what one does at a gala opening. I'm bored, and until I get around to defeating Kakorrot, I can't amuse myself by destroying much."

    "Thrilled," she droned, and tossed the capsule. The smoke cleared, and her father's hovercraft appeared. She sat herself in the drivers seat and stared at him. "Well, are you coming or not? One needs to make an entrance at these things."

    "Hmph. I can make quite an entrance of my own, woman."

    "Hey, if you want in, I'm your ticket. So get in, buckle up, shut up and hold on!"

    Vegeta grudgingly got in the passenger side and crossed his arms. Bulma shook her head, wondering what in seven hells had gotten into him.

    The event of course, was boring. She spent a good portion of her time sitting at the table having a staring contest with Vegeta. Her all-important rendezvous with the client had been anticlimatic: of course they would get the air time and shipping bleh bleh bleh... Bulma was better suited for just inventing things rather than selling them. "You know, you're uglier than I thought," she huffed.

    "As are you," he replied, unblinking. In the distance, a balloon popped. Instinctively, Bulma winced. "Ha! I win!" Vegeta scoffed. Bulma grumbled and handed him her share of the gourmet chocolate that had been distributed. She suspected that life would be more frustrating with two choca-holics in the house, one of them being a Saiya-jinn. The lights dimmed.

    "Oh damn," she groaned, slapping the table. "I don't want to be reminded of not being here with Yamucha."

    "Oh, I thought you just loved dancing," hissed a certain Prince from across the table.

    Bulma grumbled. Just then a wizened old man wearing thick glasses approached the table. "Hello young lady. I noticed that you haven't been doing much all night, and I was wondering if I could have this dance?"

    She panicked. No no no she would not dance with him! But he was the father of the president of the company. "I-uh..."

    "Was about to dance with me," interjected a gruff voice.

    Bulma stared across the table, gaping. Vegeta sat there, nonchalantly crossing his arms as if he was not acting out of character. Up in Karin tower, Kami coughed in shock.

    "Yesss...I'm sorry, sir," Bulma finished. The old man stalked off to another victim. She turned to Vegeta. "Umm, thank you..." she trailed off.

    "Don't thank me, woman. I'm getting bored sitting here. I should have stayed at Capsule Corporation."

    "Well, are you going to dance with me then? If you don't, he'll just come back and you'll be sitting here all by yourself."

    He grudgingly accepted and followed her to the dance floor. Once there, they awkwardly danced in silence. "So..." Bulma started, trying to spark a conversation. "How is that training coming along?"

    "Hmph. Frustrating. I have yet to reach super saiya-jinn."

    "You will. Like Goku, you have a lot of drive and are quite diligent in your pursuit for self-improvement."

    "Don't compare me to him."

    "Hey, I was just trying to be nice."
 
    "Then get off my foot."

    "Oh," Bulma exclaimed and shuffled her feet. "Well, thanks for coming with me tonight. It would have been dismal if I was alone. I knew you had a nice spot somewhere in you."

    "Do not!" He yelped, as if someone had just caught him trying on lingere.

    "Okay, fine. You're evil self-absorbed Prince Vegeta, mighty warrior."

    "That's me."

    "Oi! The things I have ta put up with!" she groaned, suddenly sounding a bit Jewish. The evening progressed in a similar fashion, and Bulma was relieved when Vegeta decided to return on his own that night. She got out of her dad's hover craft and was about to encapsulate it, when she noticed a figure at the door.

    "Yamucha?"

    "Bulma! I'm so sorry, I wish I went with you..." He presented her with a rose.

    "Oh Yamucha!" she squealed and threw herself in his arms. Somewhere in the depths of the Capsule Corporation, someone cursed and slammed a door.

    Some weeks later, Bulma sat by the phone painting her nails. It rang, and she gingerly picked it up with her free hand. "Hello, Bulma Briefs speaking. Hello, Yamucha! Sure, I'd love to go dancing tonight . . ." she paused, listening to Yamucha speak and watching Vegeta as he entered the kitchen, pulled out a leftover steak from the fridge, and left. "I'll be waiting then, Yamucha. Hey, I know that I see him more than you do, but has Vegeta been acting weird to you lately? I mean, for Vegeta. Yeah, I 'spose, but it's still freakin' me out. I don't think the guy ever sleeps. Say 'hi' to Puar for me. Later. Bye."

    Bulma was waiting out on the balcony to see when Yamucha would pick her up. She felt something important brewing in the air. He was going to propose today. That's why he acted so nervous around her the last couple time she had seen him. A door creaked behind her, footsteps followed. It was Vegeta. Their verbal sparring had reached a level where she didn't have to reach for the insults, volleys and reactions. They came to her naturally. But he was silent. Bulma glanced at him, and realized that in spite of what he had said to her about Yamucha, she couldn't help liking him. "Hey, Vegeta. What brings you out here?"

    He looked at her. She saw it. Dark rings under his eyes, and everything about him spoke of weariness. "You wouldn't know."

    "Vegeta! If you train like that, you'll be doing yourself harm instead of good! Keep up like that and even I would beat you in a fight! You should get some sleep."

    He wouldn't reply to her, to tell her that he couldn't, that he had vivid dreams three nights a week, telling him things he didn't want to hear. He wouldn't tell her his weakness, that he was alone on this backwoods planet, or that he somehow missed that one time when they danced in the kitchen. So he looked at her. He actually looked into her bright blue eyes. She rested a hand on his wrist. "I'm kind of worried, Vegeta. Please, as if you're not in a bad enough mood when you're rested! Get some sleep."

    "Worried?!"

    "Well, you don't have somebody live under your roof and eat all your food without coming to like them a little. I wouldn't want to see any of my friends throw their dreams away."

    Vegeta looked at her, confused. "Friend? I am noone's friend."

    "That pride of yours is going to get you in trouble someday. But I guess I do consider you a friend, though I don't know why. You don't seem to have any. I would think that you would be lonely, but as long as you have your pride, well, I suppose that's your company," she spat out, sounding more bitter than she had intended.

    "Well, why are you so cheery?" Vegeta sneered.

    "Because Yamucha's going to propose today, I suppose I want everyone to be as happy as I when it happens."
 
    "And what is your obsession with getting married?"

    Bulma looked into the horizon. "I suppose just to feel secure. I've been wandering into different crazy quests since I was sixteen. That's how I met Yamucha. He was Goku's rival for a while. I just don't want to have to be lonely." The wind blew. Below, Yamucha's cruiser approached and waited by the door. Bulma scampered away, leaving Vegeta with the thoughts and shadows in his mind. He watched her throw her arms around Yamucha's neck. Scowling, he retreated indoors, flopped on the couch, and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep. He shifted his weight around, trying to comfortably close his eyes, yet they felt hot against his lids, so he stared at the wall instead. At some point indiscernible to him, he did fall asleep. At first, it was a deep, dreamless sleep, but it was inevitable: the dreams came to him.

    He fought. Surrounding him, darkness encroached his every sense, even as he let out blast after blast, kick, and punch. There was something out there, but what he could not determine. He felt something pressing on his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. It suffocated him in a manner similar to a hot, muggy day; it bored him with an icy chill, though. "You'll never win," it spoke. "Look at how weak you are! Worthless! You should have stayed dead!!" Vegeta roared in response, lashing out with all his energy. It laughed at him. Next, he was back fighting Freeza on Namek. Freeza fatally attacked him, and he fell to the ground, dying. Everything was dark. Then, a spotlight streamed from the nothingness to reveal himself! A child version of himself, wearing a royal pendant and cape stalked to his dying body and looked down on him.

    "I'm very disappointed. What happened to Super Saiya-jinn? Pathetic. FINAL FLASH!!!" He died again. Vegeta shot straight up, dripping with a cold sweat. He gasped for breath and looked around. It was late. A few moments later, the front door opened and closed with a sad click. Muffled sobs crept from around the corner. Bulma entered the room, her head in her hands. She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.
 
    "What now?" Vegeta groaned. As if he already had enough with which to endure, he really did not want to know what Bulma acted like in this state.

    "You were right, okay? You win. Are you fucking happy? I'll live here all alone for the rest of my life and waste away. You were right, Prince."

    "Of course. About . . ?"

    "Yamucha not proposing and sleeping around. It's over between me and him," Bulma sobbed into her hands. She didn't see Vegeta get up, cross the room, and kneel in front of her.

    "Stop being so weak."

    "Don't start, Vegeta, I'm not in the mood."

    "You are the one who broke it off, aren't you."

    Bulma nodded.

    "Then why are you crying? It's pointless."

    She looked up. He was looking down at her, trying to maintain his "mightier than thou" expression. Hidden beneath the down turned eyebrows was a shadow of concern. "Vegeta? You look horrible! What has been going on?"

    He didn't say a word. She reached out and touched his face. He didn't move. She threw her head on his shoulder and started sobbing again.

    "Woman! I said stop!"

    Bulma squeaked.

    "Don't do that either--especially not that!"

    "Tell me what's been bothering you, then."

    He grumbled. "Fine. Nightmares, that's all."

    "They must be bad nightmares. You know, nightmares are usually the result of holding something back." She sat up and looked at him. His eyes were downcast and turned away. It struck her then that he really was lonely. It also struck her that she kind of liked fighting with him, and that she thought that Vegeta was a better dancer than Yamucha. She placed a finger under his chin and felt his muscles tense in response. "Vegeta, I told you that I was your friend. You don't have to be lonely if you don't want to. I can't grow a tail and destroy planets, but I argue with you plenty and I'm here."

    Vegeta turned away, scowling. "You don't know anything," he grumbled. Bulma felt her teeth clench; he was getting too difficult for this late at night and after what she had already been through to now have to deal with his attitude. She took a deep breath, and decided that most of her energy had been spent yelling at Yamucha and crying.

    "Fine, Vegeta if I don't know, tell me," she replied.

    He was surprised. She should have yelled at him by now. Instead of screaming at him, she sat there, arms crossed over her knees and staring at him. "Tell you what?"

    "Whatever it is that I don't know. I've got all night," Bulma sighed. Vegeta did not move. Bulma stood up and started to walk away.

    "You don't know about having your lifelong dream destroyed," Vegeta growled, his hand darting out to grab her wrist. Bulma swiveled her head to look at his, which no longer stared at the floor.

    "Yamucha was my dream," she hissed. His eyes narrowed, and Bulma recalled what Goku had said to her. Changing her tone, she amended "tell me about yours, then."

    It came to pass that they exchanged life stories, each disgusting the other. Bulma asked why Vegeta was so reluctant to use a scouter. His replied that he did not believe in numbers, unlike the other fools such as Radditz and Napa. His voice turned sullen, and he added that he wished to see his energy level highest of all. He paused, pensive, watching Bulma's reaction. Then he told her about the nightmares.

    "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I guess I can't really understand these things." A tear ran down her cheek.

    "I told you to stop that!" Vegeta admonished.

    Bulma bit her lip and looked up at him. "I suppose you're right," she sighed while trying not to let her voice crack.

    Again, she threw herself around him as she began to cry once more. This time, he relaxed and held her back, softly muttering "stupid girl." They fell asleep there, huddled in a ball in the corner of the living room.

    Bulma awoke, filled with mixed feelings about the night before, and wondering why waking up in Vegeta's arms felt right to her. His face seemed almost peaceful as he slept, only small signs of the walking terror he was when he was awake flashed across his face. "It's almost as if fate is pulling me to you, you pompous bastard. Sleep a while," she whispered, kissing his cheek as she got up. She sauntered to her work room to prepare a few new inventions. Vegeta smiled. His dreams had changed.

    Later that day, there was a horrible crash from the opposite end of the house. Bulma launched herself out of her workroom, toolbelt at the ready. She soon realized that it was from the gravity room. She had just begun to fix herself up to go and talk to Yamucha, too. By the time she reached it, Vegeta had crawled out, clutching his forearm. Blood seeped through his fingers and ran down his other arm and onto the floor.

    "What did you do?! I knew you were weak from all that sleep deprivation. You should listen to me. I said 'rest'."

    "I can take care of myself, Woman."

    "No you can't! You can hardly make it out of the room! You're such a headstrong idiot." Bulma growled and ran to the nearest first aid kit. She bandaged up his arm and cleaned up the blood. "You're lucky that it's shallow," she commented. Vegeta grumbled incoherently in response. Bulma tried to lighten the situation. "Thank you for talking to me last night, it really helped."

    "I slept better last night. Bulma . . . ?" She was surprised to be called by name.

    "Yes?"

    "I suppose I'm your . . .'friend' too, but don't go telling everyone."

    "I won't."

    "And Bulma?"
 
    "Hmm?"

    "Also don't tell them about this," he whispered as he leaned forward, took her in his good arm, and kissed her. Firstly she was shocked, and immediately following her first reaction, Bulma realized that he was not too horribly expirienced at this, so she showed him what a real kiss was. Their lips parted, and they stared at each other for a moment. She wanted to believe that it was just a mistake and she had been wrong about him, thinking that he had a good side. Perhaps she would have stood up, left, and taken the incident to her grave. However, as she peered at him from across the hall, his arm bleeding and the half light of the poorly lit area hit his face she noticed that Vegeta: mighty evil prince of the Saiya-jinn, was blushing.