"Bastard!" she spat out as she slammed the door behind her, hoping that it would hit him in the face.  There were no cries of pain audible, though, so she had to settle for stomping up to her room in disgust.  "I don't care what his excuse is this time - he's staying out of my life from now on!"

A silver-framed picture placed purposefully on her dressing table caught her eye as soon as she reached the supposed sanctuary of her bedroom.  She glared at it balefully for the briefest of moments before picking it up, opening the window, and hurling it out as hard as she could.

"NANI?!!"

She blinked a little in surprise.  That had not been Yamucha's voice.  Peering down over the windowsill she met with the furious gaze of the short, bad-tempered Saiyan who practically lived in the gravity room her father had constructed.  One hand was rubbing at his head, the now-dented photo frame lying facedown near his feet.

"Oops," she murmured, his dark eyes burning into her mind a relentless reminder that he was not one of the good guys.

"Just what was the meaning of that, woman?!" he demanded in a snarl.  She flushed.  Her relationship with Yamucha was not something she cared to discuss with the sweaty little wish troll.

"None of your business!" she snapped and made to shut the window.  One masculine hand on the window frame prevented her from accomplishing that task.  Her eyes narrowed at the obstacle that had instantaneously appeared before her.

"When someone throws something at my head it becomes my business!" he growled at point-blank range.

"So maybe I was just testing your reflexes!"  She tugged futilely at the window, scowling at him for all she was worth.  He sneered back.

"No creature so pathetically puny as yourself could ever 'test' my abilities," he snorted, removing his hands and turning his back on her as he lowered himself back down to the ground.  She seethed internally, but managed to mould her face into the sweetest smile she could muster.

"So how come I managed to hit you, then?" she cooed down at him, satisfaction coursing through her veins as his head snapped up, consternation and anger written all over his face in red and purple crayon lettering.  She slammed the window shut.

Turning away from the outside world, she flopped down on her bed with a sigh.  Two expressions of aggravation had worn her out for the day.  /Men!/  She slammed one fist into her innocent pillow.  /They have no idea!/  She rolled onto her back, hugging her pillow against her stomach tightly as she mentally reviewed her day.  Her now-ex-boyfriend had been totally unforgivable!  Hadn't he?

She bit her lip, frowning as she tried to determine just what it was that he had done to make her so angry.  She couldn't even remember.  /That's not right.  He must have done something!/  Once again she subjected her memories of the day to an intense examination, almost desperate in her need to find the source of her annoyance.  After half an hour there was only one conclusion she could make.

It wasn't Yamucha.

/And it's certainly not me!/ she added hastily, sitting up and tossing her pillow at the wall.  It hit with a soft thud before sinking into a pathetic pile on the floor.  /Damn it!  What's wrong with us?  It used to feel so good when we were together, but now it feels like.../

Cardboard.  That's what it was.  Flat, emotionless, worse than stale biscuits.

/When did that happen?/ she wondered, a touch of sorrow causing a slight ache in her heart.  An ache Yamucha could no longer ease, apparently.  She pictured him standing before her, smiling down at her with adoration in his eyes as he leaned closer, cupped her cheek, pressed his lips against hers...

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Whatever spark had kindled their romance all those years ago, there wasn't even a warm ember left.  What was so different?  What had changed?

/We have./  She sighed once more, dragging another pillow from the head of the bed and squeezing the hapless object until the seams were strained.  She was no longer the young, inexperienced girl who went looking for the Dragonballs to find a boyfriend, and Yamucha was no dashing desert bandit any more...

Tame, that's what Yamucha was.  No more 'bad guy' attitude - he'd officially enlisted in the good guys' team.  There was no more wildness in him, no more of that little thrill whenever she looked into his eyes.  Come to think of it, it hadn't been there for some time.  /So why am I noticing this now?/

A loud thunking from outside provided her with the answer.  /Vejita.  Heh./  Now there was someone who was still 'wild'.  /Goku and that kid from the future may have given him something to focus on, but his entire demeanor just screams 'I'm a bad guy!'/  He was without a doubt the most dangerous of the strange group of people Goku had drawn together.  /Well, there is Piccolo, but.../

She tried to picture Piccolo in the same situation as she'd imagined Yamucha just moments before, and ended up laughing herself silly.  /Green is just not my thing!/  Whimsically, she formed an image of Vejita in her mind, in just the spandex bike shorts her mother had produced as the only Chikyuu clothing close to his combat suit in style...

Black eyes raked the length of her body, a knowing smirk on his lips as he reached out with one powerful had to cup her cheek, brushing ever so lightly - then capturing her with his mouth, his tongue probing with irresistible force -

/What the hell am I thinking?!/  She shook her head, trying to slow her breathing back to normal.  Abandoning her faithful pillow, she stood, glancing out the window to the dome of the gravity room.  /Vejita.  Feh.  He probably doesn't even have a clue about that kind of thing.  He only lives to fight./

A loud explosion coming from the general direction of the gravity room made her wince.

/Well, fight and blow things up.../

/Bitch!/ he snarled mentally as the window was shut with a bang.  What the hell had she been so peeved about anyway?  Not that she had any right at all to act in such a manner towards him.  He ought to have killed her for the insult, but there really wasn't much point.  She was far to weak to last more than a fraction of a second, and besides, she and her father were the only ones capable of fixing the gravity room whenever he blew it up.  More importantly, they were the only people capable of building a spaceship for him to get off the planet if things became too boring...

He snarled one last time at the empty window before turning to resume his interrupted walk to the gravity room.  A flash of silver alerted him to the presence of the object that had drawn him into the annoying little scene with the ridiculously puffy-haired woman.  He nudged at it with his toe, flipping it over.  A picture of herself and the weak human with the scars who was always hanging around the place.  He smirked.

So she'd had a fight with him, had she?  He snorted, deliberately stepping onto the already damaged object, cracking the glass and grinding it into the picture with his foot.  He felt amazingly good as he continued on his way to the gravity room, leaving the remnants of the ruined picture in his wake.

Even the draining pressure of the increased gravity could not dampen his mood as he began to warm up, stretching his muscles out in a series of carefully planned movements.  Extend - reach - punch - kick - his body quickly settled into the familiar motions, reaching a calmness within himself as his mind cleared away the antagonism his brush with the human woman had aroused.  Amongst other things.

/Feh.  Loudmouthed woman!/  His hard work was swept away in one ineffable flood of images and memories that surged through his mind at the thought of Bulma.  Ridiculously green-tinted hair that was currently puffed up so that she resembled a bush; the shrillness of her screams whenever she didn't get her own way; the shapeliness of her curves as she stood with her hands on her hips, telling him not to even _think_ about -

/Damn it!/  He halted mid-routine, muscles tensing and fists clenching as his frustration with himself reached record highs.  He wasn't going to think about that!  But not because she'd told him not to.  Of course not.  What a stupid thought that was.  He simply wasn't interested in the weak, over-haired and under-clothed creature.  Not in the slightest.

With that resolution firmly ingrained in his mind, he expelled the breath he had been holding in, and upped the gravity level.  The increase in pressure caressed his body in its irrepressible embrace, one that he welcomed wholeheartedly.  This was simply one more means to further his training, to accelerate to the utmost possible the arrival of the long-awaited day when he would at last defeat Kakarott.  The Jinzouningen would be no more than mere insects to be squashed with a flick of the wrist in comparison with the last remaining Saiyan warriors.  Their inevitable conflict would be like none other ever witnessed before in the universe - and there was no doubt in his mind just who the victor would be.

/There is no way in hell that I, the Prince of the Saiyajin, could be truly defeated by such a low-class, brain-damaged, soft-hearted fool!/  He spun around, kicking the head off an imaginary foe - one who bore a great deal of resemblance to Kakarotto...  /I am the pinnacle of our race!  The ultimate achievement of generations of warriors!/  Each declaration was accompanied by a vicious strike, one which would have been very much life-threatening to all but the aforementioned Kakarotto and his shadowy counterparts who continually taunted the Saiyan Prince with silly grins he just couldn't wipe off their faces no matter how many blows he dealt them...   /I am Vejita!!!/

His anger hit its peak, the build-up of energy bursting outwards from his body in a brilliant display of light and sound as his anguish sought a vocal release in accord with the more physical eruption of his ki.

In more pragmatic terms, he blew up the gravity room.  Again.

/Idiot,/ Bulma sighed as she stared down at the limp mass of muscles, grime and blood that was the Prince of the Saiyajin.  The first time he'd pushed the limits of her father's machinery too far she'd been quite concerned, actually falling asleep by his bedside as he lay unconscious from the blast.  Her anxiety had been completely unnecessary, of course.  He'd assured her of that with a furious glare and several harsh words about her poor ability to make such judgements regarding his strengths, and promptly returned to his training in the newest version of the gravity chamber that had just been completed.

He'd blown that one up, too.

/No respect for the difficulties in constructing his little playrooms!/ she snorted, shaking her head.  /I ought to let him train without it instead of helping Dad finish the latest one./  Hopefully this version would last a little longer than the previous one had.  It was a good challenge to their engineering skills to have to keep up with Vejita's constant demands, but ultimately very wearisome.  The Saiyan had been living a very pampered life with her father happily building new toys to suit his every whim.  That was about to change.  As soon as he regained consciousness, in fact.  Or maybe even -

She considered the matter for a moment, her hands on her hips as she gazed contemplatively down at the unconscious Saiyan.  /To hell with 'later' - he can start learning now!/  With that decision made, she nodded her head sharply, making her hair bounce a little, then spun on her heel and headed back into the house.

Two hours passed before she heard the uneven footsteps staggering into her workshop.  She ignored him completely, concentrating instead on the capsule car designs spread out before her.  The seconds stretched out into minutes, his roughened breathing sounding particularly loud in her ears.

"Woman," he grated out at last.  "How long before it's fixed?"

She shrugged, not bothering to turn around.  "It'll be fixed when it's fixed."

"I want it done now, damnit!"

"Then do it yourself!" she taunted, flicking her blue eyes to back to meet his glare, knowing fully well that he wouldn't be able to accomplish such a task.  "I'm busy right now, Vejita.  My universe does not revolve around you. I have my own life to live; I'm not just here for your benefit, you know."

"Oh, you aren't?  Then you're here for that pathetic human who calls himself a warrior, then?" he sneered.  The intimidating effect was rather marred by the scanty remaining patches of his clothing which revealed several minor (for a Saiyan) wounds that were trickling bright red blood onto her clean floor...

She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to crumple the paper beneath her hands as she stood to face him, hands on hips and eyes narrowed dangerously.  "My private life is none of your affair!"

"It is when I get bombarded with pictures of the fool!"

"Are you still going on about that?!  It was an accident!  And it was only one photo!"

"One is more than enough to make me ill, the way you carry on about him!  If I hear one more sob, sigh or shriek about him I might just forget about the gravity room and kill you anyway!"

"Oh, so the mighty Prince of the Saiyajin can't cope with one weak human woman, is that it?"  She snorted, poking him in the chest with one finger.  "If you're going to kill me, just get on with it.  Otherwise you can either find a new place to live, or have a shower and go wait until we've finished with the new gravity room.  They don't just pop out of nowhere, you realise - it takes a lot of work!"  With that said, she returned to her seat and stared fixedly down at the plans once more, praying to God that his desire for the gravity room was greater than his yearning to kill her...

/I can't believe I actually told him that!  Must have been listening to Chichi and Goku too much.../

She was just starting to turn blue from holding her breath when she heard him turn around and stagger back towards the doorway.  He didn't quite make it out of the room, however.

/Great.  He could have at least collapsed somewhere that wasn't right in my way./

Sighing, she called security for help in transporting the unconscious man to the infirmary.

It was dark, and he was alone.  Well, that was nothing new.  He'd spent years like this in the drug-induced dream-sleep whilst hurtling through the depths of space in his podship.  Cold and hard, his surroundings devoid of any other form of life, he had enjoyed the respite from the dullness of life when they were between fights.  This darkness, however was soft and warm, alien to his senses as the countless worlds he'd visited since the destruction of Vejitasei.

A familiar voice called his name, and he almost groaned: he knew this dream all too well.  Kakarotto, the boy from the future - both Super Saiyajin while he was simply an insignificant ant at their feet.

"Kuso," he cursed, and prepared to try and build his power level up to match theirs once again.  He would not accept defeat - he would beat them eventually, both of them, if he had to live through this dream a thousand times -

"Don't you ever think of anything else, Vejita?"

He whirled around - and stared at the person standing before him, a person who had not been in this dream before.  It was a dream, wasn't it?!

"Men!  You never stop playing your little games, do you?" she snorted inelegantly, like the low-bred human she was.

/Oh, just wonderful.  More torture in the form of this loudmouthed earth woman.  This is just what I needed to hear./  He scowled menacingly.  She didn't appear to notice.

"And you want me to make more toys for you to play with?"

He rolled his eyes, knowing from experience that these dream-people who plagued him so were hell to get rid of.  That didn't stop him from trying with the other two, of course, but the thought of attacking Bulma was simply ludicrous.  So he waited.

"I've got better toys for you, my prince..."

His felt his eyes widening to an almost unbelievable state as the dream-Bulma lifted her hands to her blouse, slowly undoing the buttons.  He fought desperately to maintain a blank expression, but it was a battle he knew without a doubt he was going to lose...

/This is so stupid!  I'm not that desperate that I need to turned to that bad-tempered, weed-smoking human woman!  What the hell kind of dream is this?!/  The increasing ache coming from his groin informed him quite emphatically just what kind of dream it was.  He clenched his jaw, resisting the insane impulses that were threatening to take control of his body.

He knew about sex, of course.  It was one of the favourite topics of the lesser warriors under Freeza's command, which they recounted with almost as much embellishment as their combat tales.  He wasn't inexperienced, either - although those few times he had indulged his hormones had not left a particularly striking impression on him.  This was nothing like those other times, his lust building to a point far beyond whatever paltry emotions he had felt then.  His eyes were riveted to the tantalizing striptease being performed, totally absorbed by the delicate hands as they loosed one article of clothing after another, letting them drop to the ground in a haphazard pile.

He shrugged mentally.  Why not?  It had been a long time, and it was only a dream, after all.

/Why on earth do I bother?/ she wondered as she gave in to her conscience and checked the now-clean Vejita's pulse.  Perfectly normal.  It took a hell of a lot to down a Saiyajin.  She did wonder at the groans, though.  He hadn't groaned last time - well, apart form the occasional 'Kakarotto' - which had made her wonder if he was more badly hurt than she'd suspected.

"Stupid woman..."

She almost slapped him, despite the dubious state of his health.  /Now he's insulting me while he's unconscious!  Of all the nerve!/  She started to turn away in disgust - and her glance fell upon a  lump under the sheets which was protruding far more than usual...

/Oo-kaaay.../  A furtive glance around the room determined that her mother was indeed not present.  /I can just see her now - she's bad enough just perving over his muscles when he walks around bare-chested!/  And now it seemed Vejita was having somewhat less that chaste dreams about her!  Her eyes were drawn unerringly back to that rather obvious mound, her hands to the sheets that concealed what lay beneath.

/I shouldn't - /

She froze as he stirred restlessly, shifting slightly towards her.  He didn't wake - but he did moan her name aloud.

/Okay, that does it!  If he's getting his jollies from dreaming about me, then I get to do this!/  She peeled back the sheets and hospital gown carefully, to reveal the Saiyan Prince in all his glory.

Her eyebrows raised involuntarily.  /Oh my.../

Perhaps there was something to her mother's line of thought...

/But Mom ended up with Dad, of all people.../  She wondered about that from time to time, but the two of them seemed to be content enough with each other in their daily lives.  She did not want to contemplate the state of their more intimate marital affairs!

Vejita was certainly a... healthy specimen of the male gender.  She'd thought the spandex he wore so often to be incredibly revealing, but the naked truth was something else entirely.  Casting a quick sidelong glance at Vejita's intense expression, she darted one hand out to brush lightly along the length of his manhood.  The effect was rather dramatic.

She stepped back hurriedly as he sat up, breathing in sharply and bending over, drawing his legs up towards his chest.  His dark eyes flashed brightly before he closed them, resting his head on his knees.  He remained that way for several moments, his breathing slowly calming to it's usual rate.  Then his head shot up and he craned his neck around to stare at her, his expression a curious blend of shock and - something else.

Bulma crossed her arms, returning his gaze challengingly.  "Should I leave?" she asked pointedly, hoping that he couldn't hear the racing beat of her own heart.  "You seem to have been enjoying your own company tremendously."

/My, that got to him!/ she chuckled internally as his tanned skin grew darker yet with the rush of blood to his face.

"The other company around here is certainly lacking," he snarled back.

"Oh, is that why you were moaning my name, just a minute ago?"  She'd thought the expression 'red as a tomato' to be an exaggeration.  She was now proved wrong, much to her amusement.  "Got a... little problem, princy?"

He glared at her, obviously struggling to frame a reply.  His face was suffering from the effort he was expending to control his expression.

She grinned impishly at him as she considered her options.   The sensible thing would be to walk out of there and forget about the whole situation.  She knew what her mother thought of 'sensible'.  At the moment, she was feeling inclined to agree.  One thought caused her to pause.

/Yamucha.../  She shook her head mentally.  There wasn't any future in that relationship as anything other than friends.  She'd have to make him understand that; but what kind of relationship could she possibly have with Vejita?!

She was hard-pressed to restrain from snickering as she recalled the image of what lay beneath the sheets to mind.  There was that, of course...

/It's enough to start with,/ she decided, and stepped closer to the dark-eyed prince, raising her fingers to the buttons of her blouse.

"Maybe I can help you with that," she suggested as her fingers began their work.

/What is it with this woman?!/ he wondered as he watched clothing fall to the floor once more - only this time he wasn't dreaming.  Was he?

His musings were cut short as she flung her blouse at his head, the buttons impacting against his cheek as the material caught on his hair, veiling his face.  He raised one hand to pull it away, and found himself gazing at a pair of pert breasts, just within arm's reach - yet she backed away, folding her arms over them as he dropped her blouse and sought to grasp the soft flesh it had once concealed.

He glared up at her from his seat on the bed, and she smiled smugly back at him.  /Bitch./

"See something you want?"

He growled, standing up and stalking towards her. She danced out of the way once more.

"Uh-uh," she chastised.  "Your turn."

He glanced down at the flimsy piece of material that someone had draped around him while he was unconscious, and proceeded to demonstrate the low quality of said article of clothing.  Bulma's eyebrows arched a little, her lips quirking.

"Effective," she commented absently, her interest captured by something other than conversation.

"Your turn again," he prompted, folding his own arms across his chest and smirking at her.  "Unless you're so overwhelmed that I have to help you..."

She snorted as he stepped towards her once again, but didn't resist, placing her hands over his own as he pushed her skirt and panties down over her hips, sliding them to the floor.  She kicked them aside gracelessly.  /Low class woman,/ he accused mentally, but there was laughter in his thoughts.

The laughter was stilled as he beheld her body free of the restraints of clothing for the first time - in the flesh, so to speak.  /Not that what she calls 'clothing' ever covers much anyway.../  He raised his head, looking up into eyes as clear and clue as the sky on a Chikyuu summer's day.

/Damn it, why does everyone have to be taller than me?!/

He backed up, pulling her with him until he reached the bed, sitting down so that at least he had an excuse for having to look up at her!  His hands settled firmly on her hips, and he caught her sly smile from the corner of his eye.  His own lips curved upwards; he would give her something to think about!

Her body was warm and inviting, tantalizing to his senses as he slid his hands down her delightful curves and back up again.  Resting his hands behind her shoulderblades he pulled her forward, lowering his head to meet the delicate pink nipple of her right breast with hunrgy lips.  He alternated between gentle suckling and soft flicks of his tongue, while his hands worked their way back down to her buttocks.

Small fingers tangled themselves in his hair, pulling his head away from the object of his attention.  He bit back a dismayed moan at the loss of the taste of her skin, and exhaled in relief as he was simply redirected to the breast he had been neglecting...

He grinned as he felt her fingers clutch convulsively as he caught her rosy flesh carefully in his teeth.  Muttered curses were clearly audible to his Saiyan ears, and he looked up mischievously into her murderous eyes.

Acquiescing gracefully to her implied threat, he massaged the flesh of her cheeks tenderly with strong fingers, questing ever lower, towards the backs of her thighs.  At last he lifted her into the air, her hands lighting on his shoulders as he positioned her carefully above himself, preparing to settle her down onto his aching hardness, to ease the yearning that filled his mind, denying him all other thought.

Ever so slowly, he lowered her towards himself until the head of his penis pressed up against the entrance to her vaginal passage.  He paused for a moment, savouring the sight of her naked body just waiting for him to enter her, to make her his as she always should have been.  She smiled at him coyly, twisting her fingers in his thick, black hair as she leaned her head towards his ear.

"What are you waiting for?" she breathed, nibbling lightly at his earlobe in encouragement.  He nipped at the soft flesh of her neck, teeth grazing roughly against her smoothly pale skin.

"Tell me you want this."

"I want this."  Her head fell back, exposing more of her throat invitingly.  "I want you."

He let her slip in his grasp, just a fraction - but enough for the tip of his shaft to penetrate her body.  She gasped fingernails digging into his skin, leaving red trails behind as she dragged her hands down the length of his arms, latching firmly onto his wrists.  Desperately she tried to make him release her, so that she might take his entire length within her without the teasing he was forcing them both to endure.

"Beg."

She glared at him.  "Vejita, either we do this now or I swear you'll never get another chance."

He snorted at her response, shifting his hips slightly, enough for her to feel the rub of his hardened penis against her inner walls.  "Oh, really?" he purred, nuzzling at her breasts once more.  "You're just going to walk out of here, so - unsatisfied?"

"Oh, this is rich, coming from someone who was stuck with just himself a short while ago.  I can get satisfaction elsewhere," she replied - and changed the direction of the pressure she was placing on his wrists.  He snapped open black eyes to stare at her in disbelief as she pushed herself away from him, breaking the intimate contact between their bodies with an abruptness that shocked him.  She was walking towards the door by the time he'd gathered the wits to react.

He was behind her before she could reach her goal, wrapping his arms around her, one arm wrapped around her breasts, the other hand pressed against the silkiness of her crotch.  His erection strained against her buttocks, and he rubbed himself against her in an attempt to get some slight relief.

"Petting the pussy?" she commented sardonically, as she slipped her hands beneath his own in order to push him away.  He caught her hands in his own, refusing to let go despite her struggles - which weren't exactly whole-hearted.

"If you insist."  Her hand was trapped beneath his, forced to move with him as he first raked his fingers through her lavender pubic hair then delved deeper between the folds of her clit.  She hissed, twisting in his firm grasp as he pushed her own fingers inside her, probing the hidden warmth within.

"Still think you can get satisfaction elsewhere?" he murmured in her ear.

"I can do myself any day, Vejita."

"I guess you'd have to, considering that worthless weakling you let trail around after you."

"Do I detect a note of jealousy here?"

He snorted at the thought.  /Me?  Jealous of him?/

"Of course, he is doing better in my books as a lover, so far..."

/Nani?!/  He pulled out of her, releasing her hands and picking her up any which way to carry her back over to the bed, where he dumped her like a sack of potatoes.

"And that's supposed to impress me?" she spluttered as she righted herself from her ungainly position.

"No," he admitted, "but this is."  He leaned in, seizing her mouth in one swift swoop, locking their lips together in a breathing-impairing kiss.  Their tongues fought an inconclusive battle, striking and defending in turn as Bulma gradually sank back against the bedding, Vejita's muscular body pinning her beneath him - although with less pressure than gravity would have dictated.

At length, he drew back, raising his head enough to gaze down upon the flushed cheeks and deliciously parted lips.  Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving beneath his own.  He cupped her cheek, stroking it with one finger until she opened her eyes.

"Impressed yet?"

He recognised the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and sealed her mouth with his own before the challenge could come.

/No more words, no more thoughts.../

His left hand twined fingers with hers, pressing them against the pillow by her head while his right slid down to her hips.  She shifted invitingly, facilitating his entry into her welcoming body, wrapping her legs around his thighs to urge him on.

/Impatient, woman?  Heh./  He wasn't in any hurry.  He rocked against her, ever so slowly, letting his desire build much as his ki had earlier in the day.  This time he'd have to be a little more careful about the consequences, though...  He really didn't feel like scattering her into a million or so pieces at that point.

He could feel the strain in muscles of her legs as they attempted to push him into a faster rhythm.  He gave in only when she began to hit him viciously with her free hand - and rolled his eyes as the depth of his thrust caused her to dig her nails bitingly into his shoulder.  Ignoring the sting, he continued to increase his pace until the wave of spasms in the walls of her passageway pushed him over the edge into release.

Fortunately when the stars cleared from his vision she was still in one piece.

/Oh good.  That means we get to do this again./

Bulma sighed as she lazily stretched herself awake, and was brought crashing down into reality by the twinge in her groin.

/Ow.../

She blinked her eyes open, and sat up in startled realization.

/I just had sex with Vejita./  She flopped limply back against the bed, blinking bemusedly at the ceiling.  The ceiling in her own room.  She sat up again, in shock.

/My room?  We were in Vejita's room in the infirmary.../  Who could have moved her there?  Surely not -

/It better have been him!/  She fought against a blush at the thought of anyone else seeing her there, in that condition...  /I'd gain a worse reputation than Mom in just a single day - and Mom would never forgive me for that!/  She chuckled lightly, and eased herself out of bed, snagging her dressing-gown from a chair and slipping it on as she walked over to the window.

The remains of the gravity room were still a mess, which a dozen robots were currently clearing away, under her father's guidance.  Vejita was nowhere to be seen.  Sighing, she sank down onto the window seat, staring wistfully at the wide blue sky.

/I knew better than to expect anything, but still.../

"Humans are too fragile."

Her head shot up at the sound of his voice, and she leaned out the window, looking up to where he was hovering, looking down at the clean up currently underway below.  The words he spoke, however, seemed to indicate that other matters were on his mind.

He lowered himself until they were almost at the same height, and directed a studiously impersonal look in her direction.  "Satisfied?

She blinked.  His black eyes were burning into her once more, but for oh so different a reason.

"No," she lied unhesitatingly.

"Ah."  He turned his gaze back out to the workers.  "I guess we'll have to work on that," he replied, and took off at high speed.

She gazed after him until the blurred speck was no longer visible, then turned around and walked over to her bed.  Flopping facedown on her pillows to conceal the silly grin that she simply couldn't suppress she let out a triumphant, if muffled, yell.

"Yatta!"