Bulma stared up at the ceiling lights.

Her face was wet and sticky from sweat, and strands of hair had pasted themselves onto her forehead and neck.

She'd just given birth.

With one, good, strong push the baby had slipped out from her body and into the doctor's hands.

"Please. . . " Bulma whispered, swiveling her head to the doctor, whom was cleaning her baby at the table in the corner of the room. It was just the two of them. The birth happened so fast, the doctor never called for a nurse.

"Please!" Bulma whispered again with tears in her eyes. She didn't have the strength to speak, to explain what she needed to do.

She reached her arms out, beckoning for the newborn baby.

The doctor glanced over his shoulder. He was wearing a large surgical mask that hid most of his face. The creases forming at the corners of his eyes signaled to Bulma that he was smiling.

The doctor swaddled the baby in a warm blanket and handed it to her. It was a boy.

Bulma examined her son's face: Purple hair, blue eyes, pudgy cheeks, and a fair complexion.

Her heart sank; Her son looked nothing like Yamcha!

"This isn't my baby," Bulma said, trying to hand the baby back to the doctor. He took a step back."I don't want him if he's not Yamcha's son!"

Three nurses wearing surgical masks and caps marched into the room. The first nurse scooped the baby out of Bulma's arms and left the room as quickly as she came, followed by the nurse pushing the table the doctor had used to clean the baby on.

The last nurse helped Bulma out of the dentist chair she'd given birth in. She was kind enough to hand Bulma her purse.

"Can I leave?" Bulma asked. "I've never had a baby before. I don't know how this works. Do I have to pay or something?"

The nurse shook her head. She bowed at the doctor, then left the room.

Bulma took out her cell phone. She eagerly checked for any messages from Yamcha. Like always, there were none. When she looked up from the phone the room was black except for two spotlights shining down on her and the doctor.

The doctor looked enraged.

"He is your son, Bulma!" He shouted.

Bulma thought about protesting that statement, until the doctor took off his surgical mask and cap.

"Vegeta!" Bulma gasped.

She was so shocked that Vegeta had been the one to deliver her son; She woke up.

"Aaaaaah!" Bulma screamed, falling out of her chair and hitting her chin on the hard floor. She had accidentally gone to sleep at her work desk, trying to think of ways she could help Goku and the others defeat the androids, but all she had accomplished was scribble hearts and Yamcha's name onto her notepad.

"It was just a bad dream," Bulma sighed.

She didn't have a baby, and Vegeta did not invade her private space to deliver said baby.

Bulma gave herself a couple of minutes to calm down. She picked up her chair, hid the pitiful notepad in the first drawer, and turned off the lamp on her desk.

"It was just a dream." She told herself again.

But it felt so real.

Bulma started to feel lost after Yamcha broke up with her. Sure they argued and couldn't stand to look at each other sometimes, but that was just part of being in a relationship. She truly believed they were in love with each other.

"I have a new girlfriend." Yamcha blurted out one day. It was a secret he'd been keeping to himself for months. He didn't want to keep lying to her anymore. " I'm very sorry, Bulma."

Bulma screamed and cried, and hit him as hard as she could while he begged for her to try to understand. Vegeta, her parents, and some of the neighbors crowded around them, unsure if they should step in and protect Yamcha.

Vegeta was just amused.

"I hate you!" Bulma screamed, releasing the last of her anger in a weak punch.

In the crowd, Vegeta mumbled," That was pathetic."

"Please don't be mad, Bulma." Yamcha said softly, not sounding like a bad guy at all." I've seen how you looked at Vegeta and knew you'd dump me someday. Don't be mad because I'm the one breaking up with you first."

Everyone's attention shifted between Bulma and Vegeta.

There was no romance between them. Bulma felt sorry for the guy. He was all alone, and she was just looking out for him by letting him live at Capsule Corp and all.

Yeah, okay, Vegeta was obviously hot, but Bulma never planned on breaking up with Yamcha. They'd been through too much together for her to give up.

"Vegeta, make him leave." Bulma ordered. She didn't want to listen to Yamcha anymore. She was too heartbroken.

"I don't take orders from you," Vegeta said, stubbornly.

"Then find someone else to fix the stupid gravity room!" Bulma yelled.

Vegeta took one step towards Yamcha.

Yamcha nearly peed himself. "I'm going! Call him off, Bulma!"

At that time, Bulma was very grateful to have Vegeta around.

That happened two weeks ago.

"Could that be why I had that dream with Vegeta in it?" Bulma wondered, letting out a loud sigh. She left the house to get a cup of coffee and returned to her work desk, feeling a little more awake.

She wanted to work. She wanted to take her mind off Yamcha. There were more important things to be worried about, such as the android attack destined to happen in less than two years.

She rapidly tapped the end of her pencil against the blank notepad paper. She couldn't concentrate. As hard as she tried to push him away, memories of Yamcha kept invading her thoughts.

Before she knew it, the pencil fell onto the floor. Her face was substituting the notepad for a pillow and she was snoring.

"Hey!" A teenage boy called out.

Bulma turned and squinted at the boy, searching for any resemblance between him and Yamcha. There were none. The teenager looked almost exactly like Bulma, except for his eyes. . . they were shaped like his father's (whomever he is).

Bulma could sense the deep love her son had for her, and felt guilty for not loving him back. Was Yamcha really not his father? She didn't want to believe it.

The teenager frowned. He sensed that she didn't like him.

"He's a good boy," She thought.

Krillin flew up to the teenager's side. It surprised Bulma that they were hovering in the sky. She didn't have the ability to fly in real life.

"Come on, kid. Let's go. Vegeta can be a real jerk sometimes," Krillin said.

Vegeta?

Bulma looked left then right. Where was Vegeta?

The teenager shrugged Krillin off his arm. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Father!" The kid cried out.

"Vegeta's not. . ." Bulma said in disbelief.

"Fatherrrrrrrrrrr!" The teenager shouted.

Bulma looked down at her hands. She was wearing Vegeta's gloves. She was wearing his entire Saiyan armor.

She was Vegeta.

Bulma opened her eyes. Her head was still comfortably resting on the notepad, but the pencil she had dropped earlier was no longer on the floor. Someone had wedged it beneath the notepad so it wouldn't roll off again, someone had also draped one of her old jackets over her shoulders for warmth.

She could hear someone's boots lightly tapping on the floor as he started to leave.

"Vegeta?"

Silence.

Was she just imagining it?

She was contemplating going back to sleep when she heard a very annoyed, "What?"

Bulma's heart pounded against her chest. It was Vegeta's voice! She couldn't bring herself to sit up and look back at him, not with that dream of him so fresh in her mind. She couldn't remember much about their son, except that he was good like her, and had Vegeta's eyes. She wanted to laugh about the dream with Vegeta, but something told her he wouldn't find it funny at all. He'd probably think a dream like that was disgusting.

"Thanks, Vegeta." Bulma said instead, pulling the jacket closer to her neck.

"Don't be stupid," Vegeta snapped." I don't care about you. Your only use to me is fixing that damn gravity room, and you can't do that if you're stuck in bed because of a little harmless cold. If you had half a brain, you'd take better care of yourself and stop sniveling over that weakling whom clearly doesn't see you as a suitable mate."

To further piss Bulma off, Vegeta snorted.

Kami sorrowfully stared into the clouds from the edge of his lookout." Oh dear. It seems I may have made things much worse."

"You did all that you could," Mr. Popo said.

"I suppose you're right." Kami tapped his cane before him and walked towards the center of his lookout. " Bulma is a genius and a great asset to Goku. He's going to need all the help he can get for when the androids arrive."

Mr Popo asked. " Should you really push her towards Vegeta? Wont he hurt her more in the end?"

Kami smiled." I've witnessed the power their son possesses. He has a good heart. Someday, if Goku should die from the heart virus, the fate of the world will fall on that boy's shoulders. In answer to your question Mr. Popo, yes. Vegeta is very good at hurting those closest to him. Bulma is no exception."

"Will you continue to guide their dreams?"

Kami thought about it for a second. He shook his head." No. I've done enough. The rest is up to them."

Sometime later, Kami checked in on Bulma. There had been no improvements on her relationship with Vegeta, but she was at least able to heal from her broken heart and became good friends with Yamcha. It was almost like they had never broken up.

"Trunks might not be born in this timeline," Mr. Popo said, fearing Bulma and Yamcha were one step closer to getting back together.

Kami smiled." Bulma has designed armor for Goku and the others."

"Oh?"

"Saiyan Armor, Mr. Popo. Armor just like Vegeta's. It seems Bulma can't stop thinking about him."

Mr. Popo and Kami chuckled.

-END-

Thanks for reading! I hope it was enjoyable. Fun fact: This story is loosely based on 2 dreams I had about my future son. He looked like my cute crush, so maybe he's actually my fictional son. If I made character mistakes, you certainly may let me know in a review.

If you're pissed off I wrote a one shot instead of updating one of my other fics, just be cool man. Be cool. I'm working on some of those. Hahaha. I'm really tired sooooooo goodnight!