A/N- Short chapter, but what happens will make up for it... I hope!!

"Of course you cant!" Vegeta barked. "What the hell would you even ask that for?"

Let's backtrack.

Bulma had woken up in a cold sweat. Her dream... she hadn't had a nightmare in years. Actually, if she had dreamed the same thing a few years ago, it would have been a good one.

How things do change.

It started off normal- well, as normal as dreams go, anyway- with her and her friends going on some adventure. But this time, Vegeta was there. Bulma and a few of the Z fighters were on a ship, somewhere in space... and Vegeta was there. With Freiza. Being beaten till near death- coughing up blood, struggling to hold onto consciousness.

Suddenly, they were on Namek. Vegeta had just lost his fight, and was letting his final tears fall before he took his last breath.

Vegeta bleeding.

Vegeta screaming- in pain, in frustration, in anger.

Vegeta, lying in the recovery room of her house after the GR collapsed on him.

Vegeta, being killed by the andoids, and not one person giving a damn about it.

That was when she awoke. Reaching up to brush her hair back, she noticed her cheeks were wet. Had she actually been crying? Over Vegeta, of all people? It was strange- she felt grief for the prince. He never once experienced happiness, love, or joy in his entire existence. No one should die like that.

Without realizing what she was doing, she acted on something she almost felt was like instinct and walked toward his room. She didn't know why. It wasn't like he needed her. He didn't need anyone, and he made that fact clear every chance he got.

Still, she knocked on the door and went inside and before she knew what she was doing she was asking him if she could get in bed with him. Bulma hadn't even known she would ask that when she came in, but again, she was acting on that weird instinct feeling she had in her gut.

They just stared at each other for a while. Finally, Bulma spoke.

"I can't explain it, Vegeta. I just... feel like being with you. For now."

"Why would you ever feel that way?"

That stumped her. She did not know the answer. Why, when she was sad and scared and a few stray tears were still spilling down her cheeks would she want to sleep in Vegeta's room? Logically, it was the last place she should have went for consolation. But at that moment, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

"I... I need..." What did she need? She didn't need Yamcha, to cure her sadness with humor and laughter. Or Steve, to treat her like she was a princess and tell her everything was okay. She didn't need her mom or dad or Goku or Chi Chi or Mater Roshi or Oolong. What the hell was the empty feeling in her stomach, the feeling that something was missing, that could only be cured by....

She walked forward, tears still falling from her eyes. Vegeta's own dark orbs were filled with darkness, despair. Why did such beautiful eyes have to be tinted with poison?

"I need you," she finally whispered, and he stood up so abruptly that Bulma stumbled a little.

He walked toward her and gripped her shoulders firmly. His expression wasn't confused, but rather intrigued and a little angry. "No, you don't. Why would you ever get the idea in your head that you need me?" It wasn't said at all in a gentle way; it was rough, uncertain, demanding.

"I don't know," she gasped out. "But I- my dream, it's-"

"Peh. Your dream." He rolled his eyes- how had he known? "What was so terrible about it anyway?"

"You." More tears fell. She hated crying. "You were dying. Over and over. I couldn't save you."

"So that's what this is?!" He boomed. "Pity? You feel bad for me so you want to give me a pity fuck?!"

"I don't even- I wasn't- ugh!" She screamed though her sobs. "Look, I know you'll never want anyone. You want to be by yourself forever. No friends, no family. Fine! I don't care if you give a shit about me or not. I care about you! I don't know if it's that bite mark or the fact that I can't have you or that you're hurting inside and I want to help you, but-"

"I am not hurting inside! And if I was?" He scoffed. "I would never accept your help."

"Whatever. You don't need me, but now I know that I need you. I need your body, your mind, your soul. Everything. I don't know why. Just... please." There. She'd said it.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Vegeta, I don't want to pity fuck you," she told him. "I just want to sleep."

"In... here? With me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He seemed to be considering. "I still don't know why you want to sleep in my bed."

"My bed," she reminded him. "You're a guest here."

"Do you ask all guests to share sleeping quarters with you?"

She bit her lip. "Just move over, Vegeta."

"You had better not sleep talk. Or move around. Or snore."

"Is that a yes?"

"If it will make you shut up for the rest of the night."

She climbed in, smiling a little when she noticed Vegeta didn't shuffle over to the very corner of the bed. He just closed his eyes, though his expression was still tense.

"Want to know something funny?"

"Not at all."

Bulma continued anyway. "No one in the world- not even you- are afraid of you dying during the android attack."

"I know that."

"I'm afraid for you."

"I know that, too."

Bulma twirled her hair around her fingers. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you afraid?"

He was quiet for a long time, and Bulma actually thought he'd fallen asleep. It wasn't until she'd rolled over and closed her own eyes that he replied.

"I don't have anything to lose," he explained carefully. "I don't have anything to live for. People are afraid of dying because they're frightened of what happens in the afterlife. But I've seen hell; it's not that much worse than what I live through every day."

"This is hell?" Bulma asked, surprised. "Or are you talking about... before, when you lived with Freiza?"

Silence again. "I do not like remembering that time of my life. But that wasn't hell."

"Vegeta, you were sometimes not even fed properly and beaten and ridiculed!"

"I had somewhere to take out my anger, then. I could go to a planet and kill its inhabitants. I would see the look of pain, of fear in their eyes right before I killed them, the look that showed they knew they were about to die. I knew I had never worn that expression and it made me... satisfied. Knowing that I could make others have a worse life than me."

"That's not true."

"I know that."

She turned on her side to face him, and tried to make out his face in the darkness. "You know that?"

"Now."

"What made you realize your life would always be worse than theirs?"

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

Vegeta took a deep breath. "Well, after that, I ended up living with an evil harpy. She talked and talked and screamed all the time and I couldn't get away from all of her annoying jabbering. Actually, I-"

The rest of his sentence was muffled because Bulma had stuffed a pillow in his face. "Tell me the real story."

"That is the real story," he snarled.

They were quiet, and Bulma felt tears prick at her eyes for the second time that night. She made his life a living hell? He believed it really was worse than the place he'd gone to when he'd died on Namek?

She needed to know. She needed to ask him, straight out."Can I ask you a question, Vegeta?"

"If you don't cry. And if you actually shut up afterwards."

"Do you care about me? At all?"

"No."

"So if you found me lying in a pool of my own blood one day, all dismembered and mangled you'd just shrug and walk off?"

"That was quite the visual," he pointed out. "You're getting better at this. But to answer your question, yes. Probably. Either that or scream and cry and demand of Kami why he'd ever take you away from me."

"Really?"

"Hell no. Now go to sleep before I make you sleep."

"You're such a dick."

"Thank you," he replied in that cocky tone of his.

Vegeta turned over, facing away from the scientist. His breaths grew slower, more even, and eventually the prince had fallen asleep. Bulma couldn't resist. How could she, when the one man who never showed weakness was laying there, open for anything. Of course, knowing him, he could probably sense everything going on around him even while he slept. Better test the waters...

Reaching out slowly, she placed the pads of her fingertips on the tip of his spine, tracing it ever so lightly down, lower, until she reached the edge of the sheets. He didn't stir. She then replaced her fingers with her entire palm and began running her hand over his hard, muscular shoulders, his back which was so perfect it had to have been carved from stone, and his arm, slung carelessly beside him.

Still no movement from Vegeta.

Bulma's eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and the dim street lamps from outside threw the shadows cast from each angle on his body into relief. She admired this too, briefly, before slipping her slim arm around his waist, between the small empty space between his strong arm and his body, and began to feel there as well. From a distance, she usually figured every fighter's body was the exact same, but oh God was she ever wrong.

They may have looked similar, sure. But the difference between Yamcha's body and Vegeta's was almost depressing. How had the desert bandit actually satisfied her for her entire life when the living Adnois lying beside her was somewhere out there?

She moved her hand up, and dragged her fingernails gently back down again. Over and over she repeated this cycle, sometimes venturing up over his chest and sometimes lower than where the sheet laid at his belly button.

Bulma found herself curling closer towards Vegeta, pressing her cheek into his warm body, inhaling the scent that took over her senses and drove her wild, digging her nails into his flesh harder until finally she couldn't take it anymore and she had to-

"Why are you afraid of me dying?"

Bulma gasped loudly in surprise; her heart began beating a mile a minute and adrenaline coursed through her. Caught red handed. Now what was she supposed to do? Drag her arm out from under his? God, how would she ever be able to explain herself? And what was she supposed to say to answer his question?

"You told me you already knew," she eventually stammered out, barely able to form coherent sentences.

"I know that you are, but not why you are."

She tried to get her explanation right in her head before she said it out loud. The prince had a way of twisting her words, and especially now, in her... predicament, she had to pick her reply carefully. "Um... It's sort of hard to explain," she started off, still blushing and trying to subtly snake her arm out before he noticed. "To be completely honest, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Well then. That came out very wrong. Vegeta didn't say anything.

Bulma backtracked. "I don't mean that in the way that you're necessary for my survival, or anything... I could live without you. I just don't know what I'd do all day."

"You're trying to be funny?" He assumed.

Bulma smiled a little. "No, I'm serious. I would have no excitement! I would sit at my desk and do work for the rest of my life."

"So I'm nothing but entertainment for you?"

"I'm nothing but entertainment for you," She retorted. "You toy with my emotions like I'm your play thing."

"I don't do it on purpose. You're so weak that it's extremely easy to do."

"Are you saying that I'm too sensitive?"

"No. I'm saying that you can sure dish it out but you can't take it."

She considered this. "Dish it out..." she murmured. "You think I play around with your 'feewings'?" She mocked.

"You wish you had that power! What I think is that you're vulnerable and stupid after your breakups and since I'm the closest guy around you try to get with me," he corrected. "That plan, by the way, isn't ever going to work," he added.

"Believe it or not, assface, my goal in life isn't you get you in bed with me."

"You sure act like it."

"Hah! Like when?"

"I could name several instances!"

"TRY ME!"

There was stirring from the floor above them; Bulma's screaming must have woken her parents.

"Great going, wench." Vegeta growled.

"Shut up," the genius snapped, whispering this time.

"I don't think I will," the prince said back.

"You are the biggest- most insufferable- UGH!"

Bulma didn't even care anymore. She ripped her arm out from around Vegeta's body, turned over, and got up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Vegeta demanded.

"Why the hell do you care?"

"Good point."

She stood up, but quickly felt... uncomfortable. Bulma was cold after removing herself from the Prince's warm bed; the heat he radiated was phenomenal and she felt a strange sense of safety around him. She knew it was irrational- a mindless, bloodthristy killer like Vegeta was the last person anyone should feel safe next to. However, she found it near impossible not to feel that way when she could practically taste his incredible strength, the power of a royal prince, and the attitude of a true victor.

Of course the scientist couldn't say any of that out loud- Vegeta's ego might have burst if she fed it any more- so she slowly began to shuffle back in the direction of her own room.

She never completed her short trek back, however.

Many people may actually find it difficult to do that sort of thing when someone (especially a Saiyan!), grabs them unexpectedly, spins them around, and plants the most amazing, exciting, fiery, passionate kiss on their lips without any warning.

But hey, who knows? Maybe it could have just been Bulma that felt that way.