…1

Once she repaired the GR's door, Bulma rigged the internal speakers to blast the best of girl pop from the 80s. Non-stop.

Vegeta got her back that night by charging up his ki, loudly, right outside her window when she was dead asleep. His loud, "H-AAAAAAAAHHHH!" jolted her from her bed in a panic. He laughed himself all the way to his bedroom.

It took her a week, but she was able to fabricate a perfect replica of his battle suit. Only this one didn't stretch, and was two sizes too small. By the time Vegeta emerged from his room to train (an hour later than usual), he had resorted to wearing human clothing, and glowered at her for all of breakfast.

The next time she returned from a business conference, every strawberry-flavored thing in the house had been eaten, including her friggin' lip-balm and her secret stash of strawberry-filled chocolate she kept for emergency situations.

That monster! Oh, this meant war.

She allowed a couple weeks to pass before retaliating, letting Vegeta think he had won. If it occurred to her that provoking a galactic mass-murderer might not be very smart, Bulma swiftly dismissed such concerns. She was a genius, therefore everything she did was smart.

"WOMAN!"

The house shook with his bellow, and her heart-rate skyrocketed. No doubt giving away her ki location as clearly as a blipping dragon ball on her radar would.

Seconds later the lab door slammed opened and her surly housemate descended upon her like an all-consuming sand storm. He must have come from the GR as he only wore pants and boots, his torso glistening brightly with sweat. It would have been a sight fit for a men's health magazine if not for the way his eyes burned so hatefully.

Here it comes. Bulma braced herself for his tirade. But Vegeta had other plans. He marched behind her work station and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her up.

"Vegeta!" she squealed. "What are you doing?!"

"You're coming with me," he growled.

"How dare you! Let me go, you brute!"

He didn't, ignoring her protests as he dragged her out of her lab and down the hall. His grip was ironclad, but the only pain Bulma felt was of her own doing as she tried to yank herself free. It was pointless asking where they were going. There was only one place it could be.

When they reached the bathroom door he shoved her in. She stumbled across the room and caught herself on the shower door. He followed her and pushed her in, up against the shower wall directly over her newest invention.

"What is this?" he snarled.

She glared at him over her shoulder, none too pleased by his rough treatment. "It's a handprint reader, you jerk! Can't you read?"

Wait… Could he read?

"I can see that," he snapped, not exactly answering her question. He came closer — right behind her — pressing his chest against her back. She froze, feeling her thin shirt stick to his sweat. One by one, Vegeta set powerful arms either side of her head, trapping her under him. He leaned down and whispered hotly against her ear, "What the hell is it for?"

Her stomach flip-flopped. Maybe she needed to reevaluate that whole genius thing. "For showering, of course. You scan your hand and the system will allow hot water for 35 minutes before it turns off."

Ta-da. Somehow the big reveal had felt much more vindicating in her head than it did now. Then again, in her mind she had been rubbing her invention in his stupid face, not stammering over her device's capabilities while posed for a body search in a B grade porno.

His fingers flexed like cat-claws on the wall. "How long?" he growled, his breath tickling the nape of her neck.

"What?"

"How long before I can re-scan my hand? I'm assuming there's a limit."

"Y-yes. The system resets every six hours."

"…Hn." He pushed away, letting her up.

Suspicious of his too-calm reaction, Bulma cautiously turned around. He stood in the middle of the bathroom, stripping off his boots.

"Uh. What are you doing?"

He didn't bother looking up to answer. "Taking a shower."

Wait, really? That was it? No arguments? No demanding she remove the device or lengthen the allotted time? "O-kay. Well, I'll just uh…leave you to it, then." She tried to leave.

In all her years dealing with Son Goku, Bulma had learned many things. The one that came to mind now being: Saiyans were fast. Scarily so.

One moment Vegeta was there, undressing, the next he was in front of her, gripping her wrist to stay her. "I'm not done with you yet."

Her body broke out in chills. She summoned a scowl and tugged on her arm. "Well I'm done with you. You're a big boy, you can shower by yourself. Let me go."

"Not until you touch it."

Her eyes widened, heat creeping up her cheeks at his suggestion. "Excuse me?" There was no way he meant…?

Vegeta repeated himself slowly, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. "Touch your hand. To the screen. I want your 35 minutes."

Oh. Oh. Oh hell no.

"Use your own damn time," she snapped back, still blushing furiously.

"I plan to. Once yours has run out."

That selfish conniving prick. "Over my dead body!"

He took a step forward and she took one back. His strong fingers tightened on her wrist. "If that's what it comes to. But all I really need is your hand. If you don't want to scan it willingly, I can just rip it off."

She knew he could do it. He had done far worse. So why didn't he? If his goal was to disarm her (literally), he would have done it already.

She met his gaze. "You won't."

He scoffed and took another step forward, butting his chest against hers. "Why won't I? Seems you'd cause far less trouble with only one hand, and I could double the life of my shower. What do I have to lose?"

She looked into his eyes, really looked behind the contemptuous veneer he put up, searching for the man she had caught glimpses of over the last few months. Like the time she passed him a bowl of rice at dinner and their fingers touched; when they watched the meteor shower on the balcony together; when he had lain half-dead and broken in her arms, the air thick with smoke from the GR's explosion. Each time he had looked at her, their eyes meeting, and for just a moment she saw the man behind the monster. A man who made sure she had her tools before trapping her in the GR. Who learned that strawberries were her favorite food. Who even now was careful not to bruise the wrist he threatened to break.

"You'll lose the only person that actually trusts you."

His eyebrows rose in comical fashion, and he searched her face, concerned for her faculties. "You cannot be serious."

Call her crazy, but she was serious. He hadn't hurt her. He'd had so many opportunities, so many chances to twist their pranks into something cruel. Yet he always remained… playful. Tempered. She had come to look forward to his retaliations, and think up clever ways to get him back.

"If you want my hand, Vegeta, I can't stop you. So go on. Take it."

He stared at her with mounting dismay, black eyes glancing between her and her hand. He had no idea what to do with her confession. Or with her. Something bubbled inside him, his conflicted emotions written across his face no matter how badly he scowled. Finally, mouth thinning, he let her go.

An awkward silence filled the bathroom.

Slowly, tentatively, Bulma placed her fingers on his chest. "Thank you."

He grunted, not making eye contact. "Don't let it get to your head. You're more useful at fixing the GR with two hands, that's all," he grumbled.

"Uh huh," she replied with a smile, leaning into him. "There's a lot of useful things I can do with two hands."

He choked and placed his fingers on her sternum, easing her back. "Vulgar woman. Don't think you can tempt me into forgetting your transgression."

Transgression? "Excuse me?" Bulma huffed, putting a hand on her hip. "This is my house, mister. I can do anything I wish to it. You should be thanking me for putting up with your grumpy butt and unreasonable demands. No one else would."

"And every day I ask myself if it's really worth it."

"How DARE YOU! You—"

Her rant was cut short by a horrible squeal as Vegeta wrenched the faucet clean out of the wall. Cold water burst out, hitting her full force.

"VEGETA!" she screamed and tried to flee the shower, but he was faster. He snapped the glass door shut and braced it closed with his hands, trapping her inside.

"Let me out, you prick!" She slammed her palms over his on the glass. "It's freezing!"

He smirked, a wicked light dancing in his eyes. "Really? If the water is not to your liking, I believe there's a hand scanner that will make things more clement."

That dirty no-good asshole. He was still trying to steal her hot water!

Shivering and coughing back water, Bulma nevertheless dug in. "Like I'd give you the satisfaction. I'd rather die of pneumonia!"

He huffed out a soft laugh. "You are so stubborn." If she didn't know better, she thought she saw a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. He cocked his head, his gaze drifting down over her trembling body. "Is that your final answer? Looks rather cold in there."

She glanced down. Horror swept over her when she saw the state of her sopping wet shirt, turned transparent from the water.

Of all the days not to wear a bra.

"YOU PERVERT!" she shrieked, hastily standing up to cover her chest with her arms. Couldn't she ever have a male acquaintance she didn't accidentally expose herself to?

Vegeta stood up, still looking rather smug as he appreciated the view of Bulma trapped, cowering, and shivering like some half-drowned kitten. Then he opened the door and placed his hand on the scanner.

The light flashed green, and hot water mercifully kicked in.

Blissful warmth seeped into her bones, and little by little, her shivering subsided. But as the cold left her, suspicion set in. "…Why?" There had to be a catch to his generosity, right?

He picked up his boots and glanced back at her through the rising steam. "If you died on me, who would I torment?"

With that, he left her standing in the shower, warm, wet, and very confused.

It wasn't fair. He wasn't allowed to be nice.

How dare he.

This is not over, Vegeta.

~xox~

AN: Thanks again to Jadefyre for the commission and idea. Hope you all enjoyed it ^_^