Bulma finished the last of her pancakes and, noticing that her mother's purse was gone and how empty the house felt now, decided it was safe to clean up her baby boy. After all, her jerk-of-a-Saiyan-Prince would rather throw his hissy fit and risk giving them away than stay calm and take care of their son like he was supposed to, so what did it matter, really? Why did she care if their cover got blown? It wasn't like it was embarrassing for her to be in Vegeta's body. The only problem was that he'd never get over it if it did.

The heiress sighed, going over to the sink and wetting a rag to wipe Trunks' messy hands. She walked over, unfastened his tray, and began cleaning him up; the boy offered her a wide-eyed look of astonishment.

"It's okay, baby," Bulma cooed. "Mama's here."

"Mama?" Trunks repeated questioningly.

Bulma shook her head before smiling. She shouldn't do stuff like that; no use confusing him any further. As a matter of fact… she had better get out back to training—what Vegeta would be doing right now—before she was noticed. But what to do with Trunks? She couldn't just leave him here…

…Well, she shrugged, I'll just have to take him with me. It wasn't as if Vegeta had left her any choice. She unbuckled her baby boy from his high chair, pulled him out, went to go grab some toys to keep him occupied, and carried him outside with her towards the Gravity Room. She should probably actually work under gravity simulation because everything she was doing was too easy, but there was no way she'd do that with her baby in there. He was too young to handle that. And in truth, she wasn't feeling one hundred percent committed to doing what Vegeta wanted when he obviously didn't care about her own routine. Just give him time to cool off, her mind reasoned.

"Whatever," she mumbled aloud. She punched in the code so the door opened and she carried her son inside. She sat him down on the floor with his toys before walking a few yards away and dropping to the floor to begin some warm-ups. As she did her push-ups, she watched Trunks as he sat in full concentration, trying to put the puzzle before him together. "Smart, just like his mama," she thought smugly.

The entire time she worked, Vegeta was never far from her mind. Did he actually think she was still seeing Yamcha or something? That was ridiculous. They were just friends! Yeah, they'd dated before… and Yamcha was a sweet, caring guy. Everything Vegeta wasn't. She'd loved him at one point in her life. But that was just it—he was too sweet at times. It made him too willing to relent. Things had gotten boring and stale over the years, because she always knew that, eventually, she'd win. Yamcha was a great friend, yes; but he wasn't someone that could keep pace with her as her man. That's why they'd fallen apart.

So why, then, was Vegeta so jealous? Didn't he know this? Bulma continued to contemplate as she started working on her punches. Well… I mean, he's probably never really been with anyone else before; at least not that I know of, she mused. And even at that… it probably wasn't anything more than sex. This is probably the closest thing he's ever had to a relationship. So then that, combined with the fact that, hey, maybe they treat Saiyan women differently at home, could explain his actions. Was he actually…insecure? She smiled at the sentiment before the flattery quickly faded. It was flattering that he cared about her enough that she warranted a jealous reaction. He knew she was a hot commodity, and he felt threatened whenever other men came around her. But that was where the positives of this situation ended. She wouldn't stand to be ordered around by him and treated like property as a result of that insecurity, and she needed him to understand that and feel confident next to her in their relationship, too. Bulma stopped punching the air, out of breath and sighing. This was going to be a lot of work.

She stood there for a few moments, panting and watching her son giggle when he threw his ball at the wall, letting the endorphins flood her brain. Then, she smiled, thoroughly enjoying the adrenaline rush she was experiencing. No wonder he pushed himself so much; the rush was literally like a natural high, intensified by his Saiyan senses. It was wonderful. Sure, there was a lot of work involved… but it was well worth the effort. She could get used to this.

As she continued her routine, now dropping into hand-stand push-ups, she could feel her stress and frustration with Vegeta dissipate as the feel-good chemicals coursed through her body. Yeah, he was a jerk at times, but he had come a long way from the man he was when he arrived on this planet. And though he wasn't perfect by any means, she was okay with who he was trying to be now. They'd work it out. They always did.

So when she walked back in to the empty house with Trunks a few hours later to make lunch, she was neither overly surprised nor mad that he wasn't there. She was slightly annoyed at the questions people would ask once they realized "Bulma" was MIA, but nothing more than that. It didn't matter; she was nothing if not a master of cover-up stories as a result of her dealings with the press.

She rummaged around in the refrigerator for some deli meat and cheese, then wandered over to the pantry in search of some bread. She had just made sandwiches for her and her little boy when she heard Bunny step foot in the door. Shit. Bulma dropped Trunks' sandwich back onto his plate, promptly backing away from him before her mother could see.

Bunny sighed as she threw open the door, shuffling to place what groceries she was carrying on the counter, slightly out of breath. She jumped when she saw Bulma sitting at the table, devouring her sandwich and pretending to ignore Trunks.

"Oh my, Vegeta, I didn't see you there!" she said, tossing her keys on the counter, too. "Where's Bulma?"

Bulma shrugged, continuing on with her meal. She could make up something, but it would be unlike Vegeta to give an answer like that. Less was more, in this case.

"Hmm. Probably some work she had to catch up on, I suppose," she ventured idly, more to herself than to Bulma. "But still. I wonder why she didn't ask me to watch Trunks?"

Bulma swallowed, taking another bite and trying to look inconspicuous. Dammit, Vegeta…

"But hey, it's good that he got some time with Daddy though, isn't it?" she beamed, walking over and extending her arms to her grandson. "Did you have a good time with Daddy?"

Bulma snuck a glance up from her plate; Trunks was looking questioningly from Bulma to Bunny.

Bunny only giggled, signaling a response to an answer her grandson didn't give. "Well, good! Vegeta, would you be a dear and go carry in my groceries? I'm just so exhausted… And there's some pastries in there for you if you do!" she added with a wink.

Bulma took the opportunity to leave without complaint, meandering out to her mother's car and popping the trunk. She gathered the massive load of groceries in her arms effortlessly and carried them in, plopping them down on the counter.

"Thanks, sweetie," her mother said, already beginning to rummage through her bags. Finally, she found what she was looking for, and shoved six boxes into Bulma's hands. "Here you go, dear. Cherry turnovers! One of your favorites!"

Bulma grunted in acknowledgement, opening a box to grab a pastry. She was about to walk away when Bunny stopped her again.

"Would you like me to watch Trunks while you train, dear?" she offered. "I know how much you like to do that, and that's hard to do with a toddler to watch."

Bulma shrugged. She hated pawning her son off on her mother all the time, but if she showed Vegeta having an interest in her boy like this—

Bunny giggled, already taking the baby out of his seat. "Such a dedicated boy!" she beamed. "Your Daddy is a hard worker, isn't he, Trunks?" she said, now cradling him to her hip. "Alright, dear. You go have fun! I'll have dinner ready for you when you get back!"

Bulma walked off, snorting at what her mother had said. "Vegeta" and "fun" were not two things she would place in the same sentence.

She ventured outside and sat down on the back steps, resting her head in her hands. Well, great. What should she do now? She'd already trained all morning; she didn't really want to jump back into it again. Ooh. She could go see if Goku wanted to train together… she'd love to speak to her old friend again, even if she had to pretend to be Vegeta's stuffy self to do it. Hearing that he'd sacrificed himself in the Cell Games had nearly ripped her apart.

Without much of a second thought, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Goku's number. It rang three times before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Kakarot. I was going to ask if you'd like to train with me this afternoon," Bulma said gruffly. There was a brief pause.

"…Oh. Hey, Vegeta! Yeah, some sparring sounds great! I'll be right over!"

Bulma grunted, and had no sooner ended the call when Goku was standing a foot away from her; she jumped in response.

"Ugh. I keep forgetting you can do that," she grumbled.

Goku chuckled. "Heh, sorry. I don't really think about it. I just do it."

"Whatever," she said. She suppressed a smile—he may have startled her, but it was good to see her best friend. They'd been through so much together—grown up together, and she hated to imagine a world without a kind-hearted soul like his in it. She suppressed the urge to fling her arms around him and hug him.

"So, uh, did you want to just go into your Gravity Room to train first, then? The city isn't really a good place to spar," he smiled.

"…That was my intent," she said awkwardly. Whoops. Why didn't she think of that? Hopefully he didn't notice anything. But now that she was thinking about it… oh god. What was she thinking?! She didn't know how to summon ki. Without it, she couldn't power up. She couldn't fire ki blasts. She couldn't fly. Yeah, she could throw a punch, but she knew she couldn't come close to being up to Vegeta's caliber without using ki in a spar. What the hell was she going to do now? Stay calm, Bulma. You'll think of something…

Bulma keyed in the code and led the way inside, heading over to adjust the gravity simulation. In truth, she was afraid to push it too far. Yeah, Vegeta regularly trained in over 300G's… but he was crazy. That man had some sort of masochistic death wish she most certainly did not share. But how much would be enough without Goku noticing…?

"I think 25G's should be good to start us off," he said, almost reading her mind as he walked up behind her. "Enough for you to feel a change and get used to it while we warm up."

Bulma turned up the simulation and, without a word, dropped into pushup position. She figured it best not to say anything while she figured out what to do next. She and Goku continued their routines relatively quietly for a very long time—Goku didn't seem at all abashed by her lack of communication. He just kept to himself, working through his own routine. After a while, he stood back up, beginning to summon his ki. He wasn't in his normal battle stance; his eyes were closed, head tilted down, standing perfectly still. Bulma watched for a moment between lunges before mimicking him, attempting to do the same. With any luck, maybe something would happen. Please. Please let something happen…

"No, no. You're way too tense," Goku corrected mildly. "You need to clear your mind and let all of that tension leave your body."

Bulma's eyes opened in surprise. "W-what?" she stammered.

"I said, you're way too tense," he repeated with a smile, coming up behind her and laying his hands on her shoulders. "You feel all this up here? All that stress and tight muscles? You'll never summon ki like that. You have to be in tune with your body, and your body is fighting you like that. So you have to focus in on it; tell it it's okay. Get it to release it."

Bulma frowned before closing her eyes, trying again to focus. But as much as she tried, she couldn't shake what would happen if Goku found out she was a fake. Vegeta would be furious. Bulma, just calm down. Focus. Feel the tension leave your body… Feel the tension leave your body… She took some deep breaths, continuing to clear her mind.

"Good, Bulma, that's it. Now. Feel that tugging on your stomach?"

Bulma nodded.

"That's your ki. Focus on that. Reach down and pull it from your stomach, drawing it up through your shoulders, down your arms, to your fingertips…"

Bulma could feel it. It was warm, like feeling sunlight on your skin. She could feel it washing slowly down from her shoulders, through her arms, into her wrists…

—wait. Bulma?!

"What did you call me?" she stopped, turning around. Goku chuckled sheepishly, scratching his head.

"Um, Vegeta…? What else would I call you?"

"No, no. You called me 'Bulma.' Why would you call me that?" she said, voice slightly panicky. She did her best to mask it.

Goku sighed, dropping his arm as his smile faltered. "Well, I mean, that's who you are, isn't it?"

Bulma could only stand and gape at him. "I… but… how do you know…?"

Goku shrugged. "I've known since Trunks left," he said. You must be in Vegeta's body and he must be in yours, right?"

Bulma stared at him blankly as her brain struggled to recover. He knew. There was no way around it. The charade was up. "…Yeah," she confessed after a moment, sitting down on the floor. "Yeah, we've swapped bodies somehow."

"Any ideas on how?"

"Well, like I was saying the other day, I think the Time Machine's responsible. That wire-melting caused it to malfunction. I think it pulled you from the future and caused Vegeta and me to switch."

"Hmm," he replied, taking a seat next to her. "Have you thought about how to switch back? Maybe use the Dragon Balls?"

"No. The Dragon Balls have already been used, so without a loophole, we can't use them again for another year. And Vegeta won't have anyone knowing about our predicament, won't even dream of letting me ask Piccolo for help."

"I see," Goku said mildly, rubbing his chin. Then he giggled. "Yeah, Vegeta is pretty stubborn like that."

"How did you know it was me?" Bulma asked, staring at him. "Am I really that obvious?"

Goku chuckled. "No, you're a really good actress. You both are. But, your energies… I don't really know how to explain it. It's kind of like watching trout swim upstream. Instead of the fish following the stream, like most energies, yours and Vegeta's fish are fighting the current. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's like our essence is conflicting with the body's natural flow."

"Exactly."

"So who else knows, then? Everybody?" Bulma sighed exasperatedly, putting her head in her hands. Vegeta's gonna be so pissed…

"No, I don't think so. No one else has really tuned in, that I know of. But I'd be surprised if Piccolo didn't know." Goku stopped, watching Bulma as she held her head in her hands. "Why are you so upset?"

"I just don't want to deal with the emotional drama that's in store once Vegeta figures out you know," she said. "We made a deal to keep it quiet until we figured out how to fix it."

"Well you know I'm not going to say anything, right?"

Bulma looked over at him; he was smiling again. "You're not?"

"No," he laughed. "I really like Vegeta. I don't want to give him more excuses to be mad at me than he already has."

The heiress sat there for a moment before returning a half-smile herself. "Thanks, Goku."

The Saiyan embraced her in a one-armed side-hug. "Hmm. I'd say we should probably also meet up regularly and work on you learning to use ki, huh? It won't be as difficult, because Vegeta's body is already accustomed to it. But you still need to know how."

"Sounds like a plan."

Goku stood up, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, I should probably head back. Chi Chi will have dinner ready soon."

"And we all know you'd never miss a meal," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

The Saiyan laughed. "Yeah, that's very true," he agreed.

"Alright, take care of yourself, Goku. I will talk to you soon."

"Sure thing, Bulma," he said, pressing his fingers to his temple. In a flash, he was gone.

Bulma smiled to herself as she unlocked the Gravity Room door, stepping outside. The sun was already setting on the horizon. Geez, had they really been in there that long? She headed toward the house, allowing the smells of her mother's cooking to draw her in. Bulma sauntered in through the back door, closing it behind her.

"Oh good, Vegeta dear, you're just in time! Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes," she called from the kitchen. Bulma walked past her and headed toward the stairs, eager for another shower before she ate.

"We're having ribs for dinner; your favorite! So don't be late!" Bunny yelled up the stairs. Hmm. That does sound really good, Bulma thought, her stomach growling. She quickly headed upstairs, stripped down in the bathroom, and jumped in for a quick shower.

Bulma descended the stairs a few moments later, freshly bathed and practically starving. She took Vegeta's seat at the table and began loading her plate full of food, saying little to anyone else. For once, she was glad to pretend being him. That way she could eat in peace without having to talk to anyone else. She continued to shovel food into her mouth while her parents chattered on, only mildly paying attention to what they were saying. It wasn't anything important anyway. She picked up another rib and began tearing the meat off with her teeth. Within moments, her plate was clear; she got up and was on her way to place it in the sink when her mother stopped her.

"Vegeta, honey, are you sick or something?" she asked tentatively. Bulma frowned.

"No, why?"

"Well you barely ate any food… not what you normally do, anyway. Was it not good?" Bunny looked a little crestfallen.

Bulma thought quickly on her feet. "It was decent. I was on my way to go get more."

"Well, why didn't you ask me to get more for you?" she smiled. "You know I would have. You always ask me to."

Bulma shook her head, trying to get back into his mindset. Being so arrogant was so damned exhausting. "Well, fine then woman. Are you going to continue to argue with me, or are you going to get up and fetch me the rest of my meal?"

Bunny promptly did ad she was so rudely asked, taking her plate from Bulma as the latter went back to hers—Vegeta's—seat. The heiress couldn't believe she had so stupidly forgotten—Vegeta ate way more than a normal human, and if she were being truthful, she could most definitely get used to eating that amount of food with zero consequences. Hell, she probably needed to—otherwise, he'd lose muscle mass, and her Prince would definitely not be happy about that.

Six courses and a couple of hours later, Bulma decided to call it a night. Vegeta still wasn't home, and by this point, she was a little concerned. Just how long was he going to stay away in her body? She had things that needed done, too, damn it. If he didn't get back to where they could start working on them, he was definitely going to blow their cover. And he'd have no one to blame but himself for that.

She stripped down to the boxer briefs she'd bought him and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets and sheets around her and clicking off her bedside lamp. Bulma sighed, doing her best to clear her mind of what was bothering her, and within moments, her face relaxed as she drifted off to sleep.

Late into the night, Bulma stirred as she heard a noise outside her window. As she wiped her eyes to become more fully awake, she realized it was intermittent thudding—almost as if someone was climbing the wall. She sat up, the sheets falling off her chest as she turned toward the window. After a moment, the perpetrator became evident; Vegeta, slightly out of breath, had been scaling the wall to the window ledge, and he stumbled as he reached for the latch. Bulma scrambled out of bed and over to meet him as he pulled open the window and stepped inside.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she snapped. "It's almost 2:30 in the morning!"

"I was locked out," he panted, glaring at her.

"Vegeta, you can't just go climbing up the side of the house! Especially when you're ME and could break my neck or something!"

"I told you, I was locked out!" he snarled. "How the hell else was I supposed to get inside?"

"Next time, just ring the damned doorbell like a normal human being, or call my cell phone and I'll come let you in!"

Vegeta glowered at her in silence for a few moments before he turned, without a word, and headed over to the closet to undress, grabbing her pajamas and slipping them on. He didn't have to put up with this shit. The Prince didn't look at her as he crawled into bed, pulling the sheets roughly over him and slamming his head into the pillow, turning away from her.

Bulma paused for a few moments before she tentatively crawled in next to him, laying there in silence. She listened to the sound of his breathing for a while until she spoke.

"So where did you go?"

"I went to practice some kata," he grumbled. "That seems to be the only physical stress your body can take, and I needed something to occupy my mind."

It was a lie. She knew it. She could do a lot more than kata practice, but she found it cute that, for once, he didn't physically exert himself and instead, focused on something to help him relax. Maybe it was just from him being in her body. Or maybe… maybe he did kata occasionally when no one was watching. She smiled at that.

"Vegeta… I feel like we need to talk," she said, turning over on her side to face him. He still had his back to her.

"Woman, I do not wish to discuss anything. I want to sleep."

"We both know you're not going to sleep with whatever's weighing on your mind."

Vegeta scowled. He still didn't face her.

"Look," she tried again, after a moment. "I've thought about this a lot today. And I want you to know that whatever you think is going on between me and Yamcha… there's nothing there. There hasn't been for a long time, I promise." She scooted closer to him, pressing herself to him and rubbing his upper arm. "Yamcha and I were completely falling apart when you came along. It just wasn't working, and I was seeing that long before he did. I still don't think he completely gets that. That's why he did what he did today."

Vegeta huffed in response.

Bulma sighed, almost exasperated. "Can't you see that I chose you? I continue to choose you. Every day. I'd rather have you being a pain in my ass more than anyone else," she said with a smile, squeezing his arm a little. He still didn't face her.

"Vegeta… come on. Please turn over and talk to me," she said, kissing the side of his neck. She continued to nuzzle into him, trailing her hand down his arm and across his waist, caressing him. Vegeta could feel is obstinacy melting away with her touch, in spite of him. He sighed, turning over to look her in the eye.

"Why can't you just accept the fact that you belong to me? That's how it works." He lowered his eyebrows, scrutinizing her reaction.

"No, Vegeta, it doesn't. Not here. That may or may not have been the case on your planet, but here, we're treated as equals, not property." She watched as his scrutiny began to turn into another scowl. "It doesn't mean that I don't love you. I do. But with that love has to come some respect, Vegeta. I want you to respect me as I respect you."

There was that word again: love. Such a pathetic emotion to feel, and yet… when she said it, it caused a feeling akin to fire to build in his chest, filling and warming him. But he would never tell her the same. He couldn't, even if he'd ever want to. She'd be lucky if she could even earn his respect.

…But she already has, in a way, hasn't she? He thought. She had a stronger will than any woman he'd ever known. And he did respect that… value it… even come to appreciate it. She was more than just the mother of his son. She was someone that had a tenacity that could match his own. He'd miss it—her—if she wasn't here. It was then that Vegeta realized that, maybe… maybe he did care for her. And that scared the hell out of him.

"Bulma… I…" he faltered, looking down and away.

Bulma saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the vulnerability, and her skin suddenly felt like it was on fire. She wanted nothing more in this moment than to kiss him, than to take all that uncertainty away and make him as sure as she was of what she was feeling. She lowered her lips to meet his, and his eyes drifted closed, surrendering to her in his moment of defenselessness.

Bulma's hands roamed his body as she continued to taste him; his mouth, his face, his neck… his rapid breathing began to drive her mad with desire. She continued her descent, raising his shirt with one hand as her other slipped under his waistband.

Vegeta eyes snapped open as realization hit him, and he grabbed her upper arms, pushing her away and successfully halting her. "Bulma…" his eyes, though filled with desire, searched hers uncertainly as he held her in place.

Bulma stared back at him, panting. God, she hoped he wouldn't refuse her again; she didn't think she could handle it. Her entire body was tensed and ready for action, and she thought she might die from sexual frustration if he did. "Vegeta, please…" she urged. "I need it; I need you."

That was it; those three words were what he needed without even knowing it. It washed away his hesitation, and he surrendered completely for the first time in his life. He brought his lips to hers, pressing himself closer to her. She rolled over on top of him, tracing her lips down his neck once more as she raised the camisole over his head, discarding it to the floor. She brought her lips to his nipples, tasting one then the other, earning a gasp from him as she nibbled on them gently. Any discomfort he had had before was quickly dissipating as her hand slid into his underwear, massaging him slowly. Vegeta's face contorted with pleasure as he concentrated solely on her touch.

The Prince moaned loudly as she rubbed faster, pressing a bit harder, his grip tightening on her shoulders. Between the noises he was making and the way he looked underneath her, Bulma couldn't stand it anymore; she quickly jerked his underwear down and off of him, removed her own, and settled herself between his legs. She reached over into her bedside table drawer, pulled out a condom, and quickly unwrapped it before rolling it on. The Prince opened his eyes, staring her with hesitation as he continued to pant. Bulma stared back, gave a reassuring half-smile, and slowly entered him.

Vegeta threw his head back, moaning louder. He'd been wrong. The feeling was foreign to him, sure, but not… uncomfortable. As she continued, it actually started to feel amazing. He gripped onto her harder as she set her pace, panting above him.

The Prince heard her moan, and looked up to see her mouth open, features configured in a display of tension and possibly discomfort. "What's wrong?" he gasped.

"Vegeta, I think I'm going to…"

She didn't have to say anymore. The Prince lowered his hand to grasp her, squeezing gently for a moment. Bulma shuddered as the moment passed. She resumed her pace, lowering her own hand to pleasure him as she did. Within moments, he was writhing underneath her uncontrollably as waves of pleasure consumed him, and Bulma followed soon after, groaning into his ear as she found her own release.

They both lay together in a post-coital haze, panting as each struggled to reach their equilibrium. Bulma pressed her lips to his once more as he returned the gesture, her tongue lazily playing with his. Soon she felt the nagging pull of exhaustion overtake her, and she broke the kiss after a while, rolling off of him reluctantly.

"Goodnight, Vegeta. I love you," she whispered, already beginning to drift to sleep.

Vegeta merely grunted, rolling away from her to face the window. Now, more than ever, had he never felt more naked and vulnerable in his life. The woman had confessed her love to him, and what was more, that moment they'd just shared was more than just fucking. He knew it, and he knew she knew it, too. And it terrified him. He couldn't allow himself to feel that way. It made him weak. It made him…

As quietly as he could, he rose from the bed, finding his clothes. He had to get away, had to clear his head. He pulled his on his shirt and found his pajama bottoms, and noiselessly opened the bedroom door, shutting it silently behind him.