Everything Happens For A Reason
By: Ember




There is a time in everyone's life when change is inevitable, and even more plausible when it is forced. How we each deal with it is irrelevant, but be safe in the knowledge that everything happens for a reason.

The human mind is a fascinating thing, its intricacies as crippling as they are free. Take our heroine. Bulma Briefs. Now she belongs to a preconceived concept. It is a paradox to her life that is hard to comprehend for most. For a woman who has lived and coped through so much, it is pointless to reminisce on the premise of 'what if.' That is the reasonableness of effectual inducement.

Fate, however, has its own plan and even though you may think that it is swayable, you can never wholly sidestep it. Subtlety never comes clawing to pin cognisance by the scruff of the neck. Events will eventually transpire to hold you to the way your life was predestined to be.

You see Bulma had something missing in her life. It was her secret. She took extra care to hide it from the world in an excuse for happiness. There was a lot that she wouldn't show, because she couldn't yet deal with the repercussions. She had to feel secure that it was right. She ignored this on a daily basis, put it to the side and remembered that everything would be ok as soon as Yamcha was wished back.

On the outside of course there was very little for her to be unhappy about and that's what tormented her the most. It wasn't right to feel so lost when she had so much. Materialism indeed was a factor, but it was confounded on with the privilege of friendship and liberty. Was it any wonder then that she felt so guilty for her own unease?

Of course Bulma Briefs was Bulma Briefs, and she always managed to find a way to augment her agitation.

Charitableness was a dimension to her character, ingrained though the openness of her mother, and despite how much trouble it got her in, she wasn't about to change it. Perhaps it had even been strengthened with the adventures she had shared with Goku as a child, but being given something tangible to get worked up about was (in her honest opinion) better than fretting over a something that should never bother her in the first place. If she was completely open to herself then it was the same as work. She always had to have an invention to work around, whether it be mechanical, mathematical, or - as in her current form of dementia - animal. Her mind would never be satisfied with anything less.

She had only been wished back from Namek for one week and she was sure that the tedium of ordinary life would have already invaded her heart had she not had the distraction of the Namekian refugee's, and more especially the Saiyajin enigma to fall back on. Of course the Namekians were perfectly able to look after themselves and revelled in the alien atmosphere of the botanical level her home had to offer. She found them fun, companionable and if she was completely sincere, far too easy to give her the distraction she had hoped for.

Including Vegeta Ouji in the invitation, she therefore concluded, had been a masterstroke after all. So long, of course, as she could keep him onside, but as the old adage goes it is best to keep you friends close, and your enemies even closer. An adage that was more than likely as powerful an inducement for him to accept as it had been for her to offer.

On the whole she was pleased with the results. Vegeta was everything she had hoped he would be - Arrogant, proud, intimidating, powerful and altogether a dominating force. He had a knack for making people feel insignificant and worthless, a passion for creating it, and a temper that could be snapped or reigned in at the drop of a hat. He was conflicting, egocentrically unbalanced and ultimately, a delight for her intellect. That one man could instil so much feeling, whilst experiencing so little was a riddle that was well worth her time exploring. But there was so much more as well. Oh! How she longed to make all the math work! It would be delicious to find him out. How could anyone not see the logic or the desirableness in it?



Chapter One


The sun was setting as she revved the engine of Capsule bike number fifteen for the final time. In truth it had been fixed for over an hour, but her thoughts had lingered for longer. Shaking her head Bulma lifted her leg and dismounted the beautiful machine. Flicking the mirror on one side, she checked her face and using her thumb, tried to degrease her right cheek. It was never going to work. She gave up and picking up the remaining tools in an old rag decided to call it a night. The last of the light was fading over the edge of a crimsoned horizon, and as she turned the lights off and set the alarm one-handed, long shadows hid the bike, the chrome accessories the only reminder it still remained.

She placed her foot cautiously on the wall as she balanced her makeshift tool bag whilst trying to close the shutter. Her garage was set aside from the main buildings in a little plot of land that was also far enough away from the factories to give her enough privacy when she chose to be alone. This seemed to be far more of a common retreat since her return than it had ever been before. Perhaps it was all those days she had spent alone on Namek that had done it. She had never been so in tune with her own mind that was for sure.

She felt the rag slipping long before the wrench made its escape and clanged noisily to the floor! "Damn!" she cursed; rubbing the toe it had caught before hitting concrete.

"And the damned."

Did she really hear it or was it a thought on the wind. She turned half an inch, and peered over her shoulder. "Shit!" Bulma tried to stop her heart palpitating. "Vegeta… You scared the living crap out of me!"

There was no reply. The engulfing of shadow was almost too cold this late in the evening, despite the time of year. It muddled over Vegeta's face in just such a way as to remind her of a horror movie. Yeah… just what she didn't want to be thinking! Time to lighten the mood. "Sorry, I forgot. You like to scare the crap out of people."

She felt his power in the bristling of the hairs on her neck. "You presume to know me after only a few short days?"

"No presumptions at all. I wouldn't have offered you to stay if that were the case."

She cleared bangs from her face as the wind picked up, subconsciously tugging the open length of her overalls back over the shoulder. Was it her imagination or did the temperature drop even more under his presence. "Well what can I do for you?" she asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. What if he chose to do anything to her here? There was no one to call for help. Yeah right. Like anyone could help anyway.

"Who says I want anything from anyone as insignificant as you?"

"No one!" she replied - indignant. Closing her eyes she calmed her temper and breathed out the remaining annoyance. It was times like this that she should remember just what he really represented. She had to control her anger, after all was said and done he was a guest, and she had to behave as a hostess should, no matter how much her temper reproached her for it. "I'm sorry. I hope you're finding the Capsule Corporation to your liking."

He paused for a moment, almost looking unsure if he should speak. Perhaps he thought it was beneath him to do so. Bulma wasn't sure. "It would do better to have somewhere to train." He offered with a shrug.

"Didn't dad show you around the gym?" she asked, mortified that anything in her home wasn't considered up to standard.

"He did, but do you really expect me to train in that cardboard box? I would demolish it doing even the simplest of workouts. Now I honestly couldn't care less what happens to the building, but I need something of permanence whilst I prepare for Kakarrot's return. There is no point in having a room one day, only to have to find another the next."

Good, thought Bulma, a problem - something to focus on. "Why not train in the woods or the desert. Son-kun did it all the time."

He looked confused. "Son-kun?"

"Yeah… you know… Goku."

His look changed to disgust. "You expect an elite warrior and crown prince of one of the most formidable empires ever known to sentient kind, to adopt the habits of a lowly, third-class, peace-loving, retard? A soldier, that had my planet still existed, wouldn't even have had the honour of licking my boots! Preposterous! I have always trained in well-regulated and highly efficient power chambers, fitted with force fields to reflect my energy back at me rather than destroying the structure I reside in. You will provide me with such."

Bulma made a mental note to avoid Goku's name in future.

"Whoa… back up there bud. Force fields?"

He nodded.

"You mean as in the same thing used to protect the space pods?"

A grunt. She took it mean yes.

"That's interesting. Ok for a large spherical object, I could adjust it to give small localized bursts but you want it with enough energy to bounce back one of your attacks?"

Another nod.

"On what kind of particle placement setting?"

"It would have to be interchangeable, I don't want to have to worry about regulating my power… at all. It would also have to be suitable for any power increases. Do you have the technology to achieve this?"

"Hmm not really. I mean the ship we travelled to Namek in had a rudimentary force field generator, but it was only on a tri-metric rotation. The buffers couldn't control excess amounts of negative energy and overloaded if it wasn't regulated."

"That would be no good in a training room. You could not afford to have gaps. You need biconforcinal dampeners, which constantly adapt to the frequency output."

"Hey, yeah! That could work, but then how would I be able to conf… fig…?" Bulma's mind went blank. She was momentarily stunned into silence. She was so used to bouncing ideas off her fathers great mind that she had started to answer, as though on autopilot, but this wasn't her father. Had Vegeta really just understood and offered her a creditable and revolutionary solution, as though it was no moment, or was she dreaming?

"Is something the matter?" he inquired with dry sarcasm.

Something about the way he was looking at her, told her not to push this newly found information. But here was another spike in his character. Perfect - even more for her to explore and her genius schemed in anticipation to see if his mind was as gifted as his body.

"Sorry… um, no I'm fine. I was just wondering how I would configure so much data and all the variables, I kind of space out at times, but I guess I can work all the intricacies out in my own time."

"Then… you will build it for me?"

She tried to sound calm and business like. "I suppose. It will be interesting to see what I can come up with…"

There was silence as Bulma tried to think uninterrupted. It would be a huge undertaking, but it gave her the excuse to get close to Vegeta, more work to lose herself in and another potentially marketable invention to add to the Capsule Corporation catalogue.

"How soon?"

Bulma was thrown out of her thoughts. "How soon what?"

"How soon can you get it done?"

"I dunno… at a rough guess. Three weeks - maybe a little longer depending on the materials I'll need."

There was a pause. Bulma wasn't sure why Vegeta hadn't responded. She was about to push the matter when she saw the tinges of blue flicker around his body. Suddenly feeling very insignificant Bulma was struck immobile. Vegeta's fists clenched angrily at his sides. Her emotion could be defined now as she too a step back - it was fear, and it clogged her throat. "S… s… sorry Vegeta, but that's the best I can do, without cutting into my office time."

"Then cut it!" he demanded, with what appeared to be barely contained restraint. "My training is top priority and I have gone without it for too long. It will be months before Kakarrot is wished back!"

"Vegeta Ouji…" She hoped the use of his proper title might ply him into reasonableness, he was a lose canon at best, and Bulma wasn't entirely sure how to deal with him yet. "…Uh…" She sighed. It was no use trying to convince him. She wouldn't cut work for it, but it was logical to deal with his temper when she knew better how to curb it. For now, compliance was the only option. "I'll see what I can do. I'll work towards two weeks."

He seemed pleased with her deference. Well… as pleased as Vegeta would probably ever look, which in truth was not very. "Very well then… let it be so, now out of my way ningen!"

He pushed roughly past.

"Hey, wait… you can't go yet."

His feet stopped. "And why the hell not?"

"Because," she smiled, "you haven't said thank you."

Bulma looked hopeful, maybe she could push a little for manners. It wouldn't hurt to see how much she had to work with. Unfortunately all she got was a slab of Saiyajin back as he walked haughtily away, laughing cruelly with every step.

She stood on the cold lawn, watching him as he slowly levitated towards the second floor balcony, not totally dissatisfied with the conversation. The last of his biting laughter still whispered on the wind. "Well…" She said to the sky, somewhat dryly, "At least he has a sense of humour."

Making sure the contents were properly secured this time, she wrapped the rag over itself and headed towards the main house.

As usual her mum was hanging over the stove. The kitchen almost looked industrial there was so much going on! The smell was more than inviting, a mixture of spices and freshly cooked meat, diffusive in conjunction with her mother's soft humming and the whir of an extractor fan.

"Hey mum!" she greeted, "You need a hand?"

Mrs Brief turned to face her daughter, but only made it half way before putting a hand up in exclamation. "Yes I do, but you aren't coming any closer until you've had a shower Bulma. I can't see anything of you under all that oil."

Bulma giggled. "Um… yeah… I guess I got a bit carried away. Oh wow you should see it mum! It runs like a dream and the accessories… oh man! I can't wait to test it out for real. I bet it goes like shiiii… um… Well let's just say I think it's going to break records."

"Well that's nice dear. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. I think we'll go up to the botanical level again tonight. Those cute little green men you brought back with you are just the sweetest of company. I have a game of poker scheduled with Morely. He was so sweet about losing last night that I thought it was only fair to give him one more try, and besides I want to see if I can tempt him and his friends to a little roast beef. You know they haven't touched a thing since they've been here. What would the women at the group say if they found out I was starving my guests?"

"Mum!" Bulma was exasperated and chuckling at the same time. Poor Morely! It was a good job that they weren't playing for money. He'd be broke. Her mum was a diva at poker. "Don't beat yourself up over it ok? Namekians don't eat. I don't think that constitutes as starving. They just don't need the same nutrients we do."

"It passes me!" she exclaims, "But if you say its ok for them Bulma then I'll take your word for it. Now dear me look at the time, you had better shower now or you'll never be ready."

"Ok, I'm going."

"Then go!"

Bulma chuckled. "I'm gone!"

She bustled out of the room, her mother almost pushing her along. The hall was dark, but with the mirror of red that still haloed the city it wasn't necessary to turn the light on. It was a shame to block out such wonderful natural light. This was in truth her favourite time of the day. It really was a shame that her mother wanted to eat indoors. Still it had been a bit too chilly outside to be comfortable.

In true Briefs fashion, she was able to shower, change and drag her frame downstairs well before it was time to eat. Multitasking it was said, was genetic in the females of her family, and it was displayed to full effect as Bulma walked calmly down the stairs at the same time as drying her hair with a towel and reading a worn paperback version of "Pride and Prejudice."

When she reached the kitchen she found it empty save for the large collection of food that graced the large wooden table. Laying the towel on the back of a chair, she sat down in quiet to continue reading whilst she still had a little time to herself. The pages were already well known to her. In fact, if called upon, she could probably recite them by heart. It was an old favourite and one of the first classic novels she had read. She was a romantic by nature, and she revelled in the musty pages.

She had been seated this way for several minutes before she was called to attention by the soft padding of feet behind her. Laying the book carefully down, she looked to the door to see who was there. "Hey Dende." She smiled, "Mum send you?"

"No," he said shyly, "I offered… I… I wanted to leave. It feels odd, being up there."


He looked to the floor, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

"What's the matter kiddo? Don't you like it here?"

He bowed once. "I love it here, you have a very beautiful home Bulma. It's just that Vegeta…"

"Vegeta's up there huh?"

"I'm sorry." He apologised, "I know he's your guest. I shouldn't be so rude, but…"

"But," she continued for him, "You still feel weird being around him?"

He looked so solemn. "Yes… its wrong isn't it? I mean he did help us on Namek. It's unfair for me to be so suspicious of him."

Bulma smiled. It was in actual fact a relief to know that someone else felt vaguely similar towards the Saiyajin no Ouji. Using a foot she pushed out a chair for him and urged him to sit down. "It's not wrong Dende. Vegeta's done a lot of bad stuff in his life. It's natural for a heart as good as yours to be wary of his motives. In fact it shows that you have a great awareness. For your age its really quite remarkable."

"Bulma?" he asked, "Does he scare you?"

She laughed, "Oh yeah he does, but don't tell him I said so. Its our secret."

"But you still talk to him the same way you do to me… how?"

"Wow! You're pulling out all the hard questions tonight aren't you?"

"I'm sorry," he started, "if you don't feel comfortable talking about it, I…"

"No it's fine. I don't know I guess I see him as a problem to figure out. But I know I'm not going to solve it if I think too hard on what I already know he is. Does that make sense?"

The young Namekian looked blankly.

"I guess not." Bulma replied with a nervous laugh. "Well lets go straight to the facts then shall we? He helped us on Namek right?"


"Do you know why?"

Dende nodded. "At first I thought it was because he wanted the dragonballs. He did, but the wish he wanted to make was for immortality. He believed it was the only way he would be able to kill Frieza."

Bulma picked up a stray sandwich and offered a glass of water to Dende. He drank eagerly. "And why did he want Frieza dead?"

Dende paused a moment. "Piccolo-san said he overheard Vegeta talking to Goku about it right before he died. He said that Frieza destroyed Vegeta's home planet, killed his father and his race, and then forced him into servitude."

Bulma frowned, but continued softly. "Did… did Piccolo say how he looked… emotionally that is?"

"Yes, but that's the part I just can't get my head around. At first I wasn't sure if Piccolo was joking, but he said that there were tears in Vegeta's eyes when he spoke. He was adamant that he saw them, real tears. Isn't that peculiar?"

"Yes and no." Bulma looked thoughtfully at the table. "That's exactly what Gohan said."

After a pause Dende asked. "What do you think it means?"

"Well I can't be certain, but I'd like to think it means that he's not completely evil. I mean just think about it Dende. Wouldn't it be amazing if… if… well maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I can't help but wonder why he would betray Frieza if there wasn't motive. I think all he ever wanted to do was avenge his people, he just got a little warped along the way."

"You're confusing me… so you're saying there's definitely some good in him?"

"Yeah maybe a little, a very little, but then I guess its all my assumption. I have been known to be wrong occasionally - very occasionally. Psychology wasn't one of my best subjects, but then he hasn't hurt anyone other than Gohan since we got wished back, and then he didn't take it very far. It was as though he was trying to show everyone that he was the strongest and once he had ascertained there was no one who could stop him - it didn't matter. Why do you think that is?"

"You're asking the hard questions now Bulma." He smiled.

"Well I think its because we're not important enough."

Dende didn't look convinced by this. "I don't think that will make me sleep any easier tonight."

"But don't you see. It means we're safe. You've been here a week and with him on Namek for slightly longer. What do you think his main objectives are now?"

"To get stronger."

Bulma winked and smiled. "Bingo! And its Goku he's after right?"

Dende agreed - it was hard not to when Bulma was in full flow.

"So I'm providing him with a means to get stronger and a home that he knows Goku will eventually return to. Does he have any reason to kill us?"

"No… does he need one?"

"If we're right and there is some good in him, then yes. So far so good right? As long as we don't give him reason I don't think he'll be killing anyone anytime soon. Just try and be nice to him. No matter how much he might throw it back in your face. Remember that he has more important objectives when you speak to him. Don't let him know you're scared. He gets a kick out of it. It only took a few minutes back on earth to work that one out."

She kicked back, putting her legs on the table. Dende still didn't look thoroughly convinced, but there was a little more confidence in his demeanour than there had been before. Bulma hoped that their talk had helped. It had her. She had no idea that she had learnt so much about him after only one week. It was quite scary really.

"Well this is cosy!" The voice came from the door.

Startled, Bulma almost fell backwards. "Mum!" she exclaimed, "Don't do that to me!"

"Do what to you dear? Oh!" she gushed, finally seeing the young Namekian, "There you are Dende. I wondered where you had got to."

He looked very guilty. "I'm very sorry Mrs Brief. I'll help you straight away!" He bowed in way of an extra apology, and picked up several plates. Bulma did the same and the whole procession filed up the sweeping stairs and into the service lift.

The doors opened with a ping and they all walked out onto the elegant and sprawling patio. The smell of cherry blossom and roses filled the air as they walked the short distance to the group of chairs that accommodated the majority of the relocated Namekian race. Bulma was about to lay her consignment on the table when her mother stopped her.

"Oh no Bulma!" she exclaimed as though Bulma were about to commit some heinous crime. "Those are for the prince!"

Bulma looked confused for a moment. "Oh… right… Vegeta!" She looked down at the plates and up at her mum as though doing the math. "All of them?"

"Oh my! Don't you think there are enough?"


"Dear lord, you're right! He's a prince… he'll need extra. Do you think I should go back and make some more?"

"No!" Bulma interrupted in indignation, "Have you cooked like this for him every night?"

"Oh Bulma! Don't be so silly. Of course not! We ordered in on Tuesday and Friday. I think he liked the pizza's."

"Pizza's? As in more than one?"

"Well of course. You know he's just the same as Goku-san. I think all Saiyajins must have very healthy appetites."

Bulma frowned. "Expensive is the word I'd use."

"Oh come now. It's not like we can't afford it."

"Mum, sometimes its too easy for us to get carried away with money. I don't want to be one of those women that doesn't know how much a pint of milk costs!"

"And giving Vegeta a few extra helpings is going to ruin that?"

Bulma sighed, "I'm being unreasonable again, aren't I?"

Mrs Brief tittered slightly, "Well maybe… just a little. So are you going to give him the roast or are you going to wait until it goes stone cold?"

She rolled her eyes. "God forbid that the Saiyajin no Baka should come and get the food himself!" She looked about. "Where is he anyway? Dende said he was here, but I don't see him."

Mrs Brief looked confused. "Goodness! I don't know. He was here when I left."

"Dende?" Bulma asked. "Can you find Vegeta for me?"

"Sure!" He closed his eyes, glowing a vivid yellow as he concentrated. A blush spread across his cheeks.

"What is it Dende?"

"Um… I think he's in your bedroom Bulma-san."

"WHAT!" Bulma almost dropped the tray of food. "Why the little pervert! What the hell is he doing in my room?"

Dende looked ashamed. "I'm sorry. I haven't been taut mind reading Bulma, not yet. Morely says I'm still too young, besides it's rude to do it without the person knowing."

"Well then!" she huffed, thoroughly pissed off. "I'll just have to go up there and find out myself, won't I? The cheek of some people, you give them a room, feed them and this is the thanks you get!"

Bulma continued in this way, spiting obscenities in an incomprehensible mumble, until she had long left the botanical level. Indeed, she was half way up the stairs to her private section of the house, before the tirade quietened. When she finally arrived at the large lacquered doors of her living space, she suddenly felt very nervous. She paused. Was that the patter of wet feet on tiles she heard, being accompanied as it was by the trickle of her shower?

Now she was unsure what to do. Did she knock? She fumed at her own doubt. It was her room. She didn't need to knock. He was the one who was out of line! Oh man she was angry! Practically kicking the door down she stormed into the room.

There was shock, debilitating for what seemed like a decade, as she fully digested what had happened.

"All my things!" she screamed, looking at the pile of clothes shoes and beauty products, flung in a heap over one side of the room. Her photo and pressed flower collection had gone the same way, along with the majority of her stuffed toys. "VEGETA!"

The scream echoed in the now almost empty room, and a young sparrow was scared from its perch on the windowsill. Once all was still again, there was a squeak as the shower was turned off, and footsteps resumed. They were slow and deliberate, befitting an eerie portend. Bulma, however, was too angry to care.

The door opened a fraction and a back draft of steam came flooding out. Engulfed among its misted depth a silhouette could be seen - the outline, unmistakable. As the hot air cooled, the Saiyajin prince could clearly be seen leaning against the doorframe, with just a towel to hide his modesty.

Normally even with the towel Bulma would have blushed, but her anger outshined everything else, inhibitions included. "YOU!" she screeched, "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

The ghost of a smirk caught his right lip before he caught it. "Taking a shower. What does it look like?"

"I can SEE that!" she fumed, "Why are you doing it here. In MY room?"

"Because," He replied firmly, "I prefer these quarters. They are more appropriately situated and decorated than mine. Larger too." He added with an after thought. "I choose to reside in this portion of the house from now on."

"Now wait just a minute! This is my room Vegeta. You can't just waltz in here as if you own the place. I'm sure mum will be more than happy to redecorated your living quarters if they are not to your liking, but this room belongs to me."

"Look." He said, his posture exuding authority. "I couldn't give a shit whose quarters these are. I like them, the view is much better and so long as I am the strongest being on this mud ball then I will take what I like." His smirk was full blown now. Bulma could see how much he was enjoying throwing his power around. He looked her up once and then back down again. "Of course, you are more than welcome to share. Once the training room is functioning the only thing missing to this place will be the harem. You might prove useful as a whore."

Bulma was fuming. She could feel the beginnings of her usually sharp tongue, curving into words.

"Do you have an issue with that?" He continued, his voice practically laughing.

"Issue… ISSUE!" she screamed, balling her hands into fists. "Hell yeah I have an issue with it! I am not a whore!"

"Oh really?" He affirmed, pushing off from the door and walking towards her. When he was right in front he used the index finger of his right hand to pull at the hemline of the short red dress she was wearing. "You dress like one."

Bulma was mortified! "This is an a hundred and fifty zenni designer dress! Not a ten zenni rag!"

He chuckled. "Does prostitution have a price barrier?"

"Ugh! You arrogant stuck up little prick! If anyone's the whore… it's you! Look what you're wearing!"

The smirk was lost. Anger was its replacement. "What did you just call me?"

Bulma put her hands on her hips, but a portion of her mind was wondering what the hell she was doing? What was she saying to Dende earlier, not to get him riled? Again he managed to elicit fear, but she'd be damned if she'd let him see as much.

"I called you an arrogant stuck up little prick. Do you have the issue now?"

He calmed a little. The smirk was back.

"No issue at all." He let the ghost of a ki ball flicker into the hand he had used to pull her dress with. "Nothing is of issue, when you can merely eliminate it." He lifted his hand, letting the power illuminate his face. "Now what was it you called me?"

"You wouldn't!" she spat defiantly.

"Wouldn't I?" He used his free hand to push her roughly to the wall. "And what makes you so secure in that?"

Her head hit a little more violently than was easily ignored, but Bulma did her best to hide the fact he had injured her.

"What use am I to you as a whore if I'm dead?"

Bulma couldn't believe what she was saying, but something about the way he was being so demanding was intriguing her, and she knew the only way to stop him carrying out his threat was to confuse him. The surest way to do it with any man was to play on his hormones.

He chuckled low in the throat. "I thought you said you weren't a whore?"

His reply wasn't entirely calm, but Bulma was able to breath a sigh of relief. The ki ball was gone.

"I'm not, but it would be a shame to lose such a body. Don't you think?"

He looked perplexed at her words. "I don't see anything more appealing than I have seen in a hundred pleasure slaves. You place too much value on aesthetics onna."

"Who was the one that preferred these rooms to his own? I think you have an eye for things of beauty Ouji. What do you say?"

"Things of beauty… perhaps, but that is not what I see."

Ok… now that was overstepping the mark.

"What! I'll have you know that I could have any man on this planet if I so wished."

"Not any!" he chuckled.

"Well I don't class you as a man. You're a Saiyajin and you wouldn't know what the hell you're talking about, now get out of my rooms!"


"Ok… this is just getting ridiculous."

Bulma wasn't sure how they were going to get over this. "You really like the view that much?"

"I…" he looked unsure whether he should continue. "I like to see the stars at night. All I can see from my bedchamber windows are the factories."

Bulma calmed down. She forgot how unused he was to human protocol. "Then you should have just asked Vegeta. Look…"

She scooted past his impressive frame, opened a door and walked into her private living space. It was a separate area from the main house and was her own little sanctuary. There was a living room, complete with all the luxuries. She was proud of it. There was the latest style plasma television at the front, a large stereo with obligatory surround sound to the left and her work desk and PC in the corner. At the back was a small kitchen area, with every amenity necessary.

Navigating her way around the plush leather sofa, she continued to an inter-joining door on the other side. Typing a code into the small electronic lock, the door hissed open, and they were instantly escorted into a large second bedroom.

"This is my guestroom." She smiled, as Vegeta looked around. "If friends have ever wanted to stay over, then they usually use this room. Krillin stayed here for a good five months when he was looking for work and needed somewhere in the city to stay, and Yamcha used it before we became more than friends." She sighed, "I miss having someone to share with. If you really want to move from your current room, then you're more than welcome to have this one."

Vegeta was standing a little distance in front, looking out over the balcony as though contemplating his decision. "What's the catch?"

"No catch!" she reassured, "Other than having to put up with a lot more of me than normal."

He chuckled. "I would have thought that, that was catch enough."

Bulma didn't think the comment was supposed to bite as much as it did and so let it slide. "What do you say?"

"Very well. This room is adequate."

"Good! So my room is off limits ok?"

"You're a strange creature onna, this room is much larger."

"And there's a Jacuzzi in the bathroom as well, that's the trouble though, it's too big. I have been known to use the Jacuzzi from time to time though."

"Fine. I will allow you to keep your pathetic room, but I want equal use of the living area."

"Not a problem, but no messing about with my computer."

"You're backward technology is below my notice."

There was silence for a while, only interrupted by the growling of Vegeta's stomach.

"Hungry?" Bulma laughed.

Vegeta just scowled.

"Dinners all ready, downstairs."

Not saying a word, Vegeta gave his new quarters one more going over before leaving the same way he had entered. Bulma followed, pleased with how things had worked out. Maybe the Saiyajin no Ouji was easier to placate than she had at first thought. His temper was priceless, and not as closed to manipulation or pushing as she had first imagined. There was something very intriguing in being able to mould it.

It was at that moment that Bulma realized that maybe she wouldn't have to tread so carefully around Vegeta. Even more odd was the realization that it had even been quite fun. Now if only she could shake off the headache!



Table of Contents
Chapter 2