On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

12 hours o' training

Bulma was brought awake as the bed dipped, her heavy husband trying to slip surreptitiously under the covers. She blinked open bleary eyes. It was completely black. Checking the time, Bulma felt an anger well in her when the bright green time of 2:28 glowed back at her from her alarm clock.

"What on EARTH have you been doing all this time?" she hissed at Vegeta.

He sighed, his hopes of making it unnoticed into bed thoroughly dashed. "What do you think I've been doing?" he snapped back.

Of course, he had been training in the damn GR all friggin' day after she had told him she wanted a word with him. And what did her brave, strong, fearless husband do? Did he offer to listen to her, offer to be available or even show the slightest interest or acknowledgement of her request? No, of course not. This was Vegeta, Prince of All Pain-In-The-Asses, she was talking about. Vegeta had just up and left to train in solitude for half the day, leaving Bulma to fume.

She should have been used to it by now. But this time it was different. And she was pissed.

"I TOLD you I wanted to talk to you when you had a minute," she grouched at him.

"I was busy."

"Too busy to talk to your WIFE?"

"…"

"…Forget it," she huffed and rolled on her side away from him.

More silence followed, which Vegeta finally broke. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"It's too late for talking," Bulma replied. "I need to sleep. I have a lot to do tomorrow."

The silence that followed was tense, awkward. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, annoyed with him, and at herself.

A warm hand rested on her hip, and a moment later Vegeta's large, powerful frame shifted behind her back, spooning her. Bulma felt her resolve to be angry at him start to weaken.

"You know," she grumbled, relaxing into his warm embrace, "you should be making the most of this."

"The most of what?"

"This time we have together. It won't always be like this, you know. You should appreciate it before it's gone."

He was silent for a while, but finally his hand on her side tightened. "Why would it?" he asked gruffly. "Do you not trust I can keep us safe from any threat?"

Bulma sighed. Of course he would think she was talking about fighting. Then again, after Frieza, and Cell, and Buu, and Zamasu, could she really blame him? "There are some things even you can't prevent from happening, Vegeta."

He said nothing. His fingers squeezed against her more possessively.

"Anyway, it's late," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I'm tired. Good night, Vegeta."

"…Good night."

~xox~

beta read by Marcella-Duchamp