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Resolution on a Lonely Planet	By : Ulrike Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 5386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the DBZ characters. This is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment. No money was made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Warnings for this chapter: M/F Lemon, PTSD, flashbacks to rape
It took a lot of coaxing to get Vegeta to eat the food that was presented to him. Even though his mouth watered and stomach growled so loudly Panchi shrieked with laughter, the saiyajin merely crossed his arms and slouched down into his bed, pouting like a child.
“Lamb, turkey legs, beef stew, potatoes, fried rice…” Bulma counted off the various steaming, delectable entrees and sides that had been wheeled into Vegeta’s room. “All of it for you.”
Sniffing arrogantly, the weakened prince closed his eyes and turned his face away. He refused to be tricked by the earthlings again even though he hadn’t eaten anything in almost three days.
“I did not see you prepare it,” Vegeta snapped angrily. “It’s probably glazed in poison and stuffed full of your horrid energy-destroying solution.”
Bulma groaned loudly and snatched a chicken strip. Chomping into it hungrily, she waved the fried meat at him and spoke through a mouthful of food. “If we wanted to kill you, you’d already be a goner, Vegeta. We had plenty of opportunities to let you die within the past couple of days.”
Black eyes snapped to blue and Bulma felt herself freeze from the deadly glare. Vegeta’s chest rose slowly as he breathed deeply and took in the woman before him. He scanned her face and body, noting that the finger-mark bruises around her throat and neck were still very much present from when he attacked her.
“That’s why you’re doing all this for me,” the black-haired saiyajin growled, “to absolve your guilt for creating that awful concoction in the first place. If it hadn’t been for your stupidity, I wouldn’t have been…”
He trailed off and glared down at his hands. His bandaged fingers were gripping the bed sheet in his lap tightly and the muscles in his arms bulged as a fiery anger burned within him. The stillness in the room became somber as Bulma realized the saiyajin prince was struggling with his flashbacks. Shaky hands moved toward his and hesitated before settling gently on his broken knuckles. Vegeta’s eyes widened, but he did not look up to face Bulma.
“I created that chemical when I invited you and the Namekians to Capsule Corporation after the battle on Namek. It was a precaution in case you had plans to hurt my family or earth,” the blue-haired beauty explained calmly. “You immediately proved me wrong and I knew we would never have to use it. I locked it away and never looked back. I…I had no idea that the leading scientist who had helped me invent it…was such a monster. No one at Capsule Corp. had any idea that Skip had created his own solution and would use it for such evil.”
She traced a finger along a bandage on Vegeta’s hand. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Vegeta. I’m helping you because, yes, it is my fault that your powers were used against you. I’m also helping you because that’s what we do here.” Bulma gazed up at her father for a moment before peering into Vegeta’s solemn face. “We’re all going to help you recover your strength and your energy.”
The saiyajin prince sighed and shook his head, pulling his hand out of Bulma’s light grip. The intimate touch made him uncomfortable and he had no idea how to deal with the emotions. His entire life, every living creature he had ever met betrayed him or hurt him in some way. The moment he let his guard down, even his closest allies made their move and pounced on his weakness. He knew better than to fall for this woman’s soft words and endearing eyes.
“Just the same,” he replied darkly, “I’ll end up killing you all.”
A high-pitched whimper resonated throughout the room and Dr. Briefs had to quickly usher his wailing wife from the vicinity. Bulma let a sad smile come to her lips and she stood, not realizing that she had been sitting on the edge of Vegeta’s bed. Pulling the tray of food closer, Bulma snagged one more chicken strip from the gigantic platter.
“Well, you better start eating if you’re going to gather the strength to kill everyone,” she chirped. And without a word, Vegeta obeyed.
The next day, Dr. Briefs met his daughter in her lab as she tinkered with one of the energy boxes used for the company back-up generator. Humming to herself, she didn’t even notice the short man standing behind her until he lit a cigarette.
“Jeez, Dad!” Bulma hollered as she spun around and dropped her screwdriver. “Giving me a heart attack?”
But the man did not return the cheery demeanor. Puffing on the cigarette, the mousy scientist stood before his daughter, one hand in his lab coat side-pocket and the other replacing the pack of Mevius smokes in his front pocket.
“I am unsure that we should allow Vegeta to regain any of his power.”
Bulma simply stared at her father as he stood calmly before her, a cloud of smoke shooting from his nose as he sighed. Blinking, Bulma’s mouth dropped open and she bent down to grab her screwdriver. With a shake of her head, she pointed the tool at the little man before letting out an annoyed shriek.
“Why? Why? Because you don’t like him?”
Dr. Briefs let out an outraged stammer and held out his hands as if it was the simplest idea in the world. “He has threatened to kill us, Bulma!”
“Oh Kami, he did that even before this whole situation,” she sniffed with a wave of her hand. Sitting on the edge of her desk, the genius woman went back to work as if her father wasn’t there.
“Bulma! This is serious. He had your mother in tears yesterday. Even after you poured your heart out to him he merely told he was going to kill you without a thought.”
Hurling the screwdriver against one of the large windows to the right of her desk, Bulma squeezed her eyes shut as the glass cracked. Feeling burning tears forming, the enraged woman clenched her fists and held back a sob.
“I’m not going to hear another word of this!” Bulma roared. “I absolutely refuse to keep Vegeta a prisoner. Like you said, little-by-little I am going to release his power. I’m going to let that saiyajin have what is rightfully his: His Life! And daddy, you’re not going to keep him caged. It’s my fault this happened to him and I’m going to make it right again!”
The doctor opened his mouth to say more, but Bulma stormed past him and exited her lab. Several workers scattered as the woman barreled through, many of them having seen Bulma Briefs throw epic tantrums in the past. She marched upstairs and into the main living quarters of Capsule Corp., her feet leading her directly to the place she wanted to be.
Without knocking, Bulma barged into Vegeta’s room, her heart racing and brain buzzing with thought. She had never yelled at her father like that. She had never felt such…emotions toward anything or anyone like she did at that moment.
“Is knocking no longer a custom on this wretched planet?”
Blinking herself from the fury of emotions, Bulma peered around the room as if waking from a dream. Vegeta appeared to be climbing from his bed, his shirt off and bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs. He was gripping the bed post and eyeing her cautiously. She could see the strain the simple movement was having on him as he attempted to rise.
“Do you…need help?” She asked, unsure what to say as she had just invaded his room.
“Of course not! I’m not some weakling, like—have you been crying?”
Bulma’s face turned a brilliant shade of red and she scrubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist. Vegeta’s dark gaze lingered on her and humiliation kept her cemented to the ground.
“No, NO!” She said a little too loudly. “There were some chemicals down in the lab. I’m sensitive to certain vapors and it makes my eyes a little teary and—“ her following words ended with a gasping sob. Completely humiliated, Bulma wept into her hands and she shook her head as her world crumbled around her. She was crying. Bulma Briefs was crying... in the middle of Vegeta’s room directly in front of the arrogant prince himself!
“I got into a fight with daddy and I feel so guilty about this whole thing and I just want to make it better!”
Vegeta’s mouth hung agape as he watched the usually loud-mouthed, haughty person cry hysterically before his very eyes. He had seen people cry at his feet in the past…but it was always because he was about to kill them. He honestly had no idea what to do about the Capsule Corp. heiress’s beak-down. So, he just remained sitting on the edge of his bed, his wide eyes looking over his shoulder at the woman in the grey industrial jumpsuit.
“I feel sick with the thought that my creation could do such horrible things to someone. I’ve never felt so guilty.” Bulma sniffled and wiped away her remaining tears.
“Dear God, please let this end soon,” Vegeta whispered to the ceiling.
No one had ever used him as a shoulder to cry on. It was beyond uncomfortable and the saiyajin prince wished so badly that he could throw open the balcony windows and fly away from the awful situation at hand. Maybe he could just leap off the balcony anyway and end it all right there.
Glancing at the woman calming herself, Vegeta was at a loss of words for the first time in his life. Bulma felt guilty. Bulma felt guilty for hurting him. No one ever cried for him or appeared so distressed for his pain (except Yamcha). These humans unnerved him. The Bulma woman was either a phenomenal actress or she truly felt sympathy and guilt toward his suffering. If that was the case, Vegeta did not know how to respond.
“Vegeta,” Bulma murmured. “I have something I need to tell you…”
Craning his head over his shoulder again, the warrior’s black eyes took in the trembling scientist before him. Her eyes were red and drawn down in shame. Her entire body-language screamed guilt and he was amazed at how the ordinary girl captured his attention.
The words were on the tip of her tongue. Bulma wanted to scream it out for everyone in the area to hear. ‘Vegeta, the reason you don’t have your power back is because my dad and I reprogrammed the microchip in your stomach to tie down your ki. That chip that electrocuted your insides and made you almost die a horrible death? Yeah, I have control over it now.’
The fear was too great and Bulma swallowed down the terror. A voice in the back of her head was screaming at her, demanding that she not tell Vegeta what she had done to him.
“We still have remaining senzu beans,” she explained quietly. “Now that you’re eating again, I think the senzu beans will probably help bring back your powers. Your body is strong, so…it will most likely break through any remaining damage the solution had on you…and re-ignite your energy.”
“I see,” Vegeta replied, his voice soft from the unease he felt toward the highly emotional person. “Is that all?”
Bulma glanced at him and then looked away, still too embarrassed that she had completely lost her composure in front of the universe’s most dangerous criminal. Nodding, Bulma stuffed her hands in her pockets childishly.
“You can leave then.”
Bolting from the room, Bulma sprinted down the hallway, trying to outrun her humiliation and shame. She slammed into her door and ran into her room only to find Yamcha sitting in the large, queen-like chair next to her bed, his glassy eyes staring out the window. Blinking rapidly, Bulma calmed her racing heart and sauntered forward.
Yamcha’s dark gaze snapped to her and he attempted a weak smile. Not in the mood for anymore hysterical emotional outbursts, the intelligent woman simply walked around to the front of the chair and sat in the fighter’s lap. Yamcha wrapped his arms around her and the two sat silently for some time, not speaking as they inhaled each other’s scent. Finally, Bulma moved from the warrior’s lap and made her way to her large bed. Unzipping the worker suit from her body, the young genius stood in the middle of the room in a tight white Capsule Corp. t-shirt and bikini-bottom underwear.
“Come here, Yamcha,” she purred.
Peering over the side of the massive chair, the black-haired fighter smiled weakly again, his eyes appearing so old suddenly. Standing slowly, Yamcha pulled the blinds closed and he made his way to his beautiful girlfriend. Running his hands along her wide hips, Yamcha realized that he had no spark of passion. Usually seeing Bulma’s scantily clad body made him rock hard in seconds. Yet, now he felt nothing—seemingly dead inside.
Sensing his hesitation, Bulma stood on her toes and leaned in for a kiss, her soft lips pressing against his. Yamcha gathered her gently into his arms and laid her on the bed before pulling off his jeans and shirt. Clad only in his boxers, he leaned over and kissed her again.
*”That’s right. Put on a show for us, hottie.”*
Barely suppressing a gasp, Yamcha’s heart pounded in his chest as the room wavered and changed. It suddenly smelled of mildew and he swore he could hear water rushing through pipes above. It seemed so dark in the room and his breath hitched in his throat as he saw four shadows plastered against the far wall of the room. They were watching!
“Are you ok?” Bulma asked softly.
He flinched as her fingers brushed against the scar on his cheek. Nodding frantically, Yamcha squeezed his eyes shut and fought off the images. They were not real. Not anymore. He was safe. He had his powers and he was safe—in Bulma’s bedroom and in Bulma’s caring arms.
Smiling sensually, Bulma peeled her tight shirt from her body, leaving her pale form clad only in a lacy bra and colorful undies. Forcing himself to focus, Yamcha gazed down at the voluptuous breasts and cupped his love’s left cup. Pulling the bra down, the earth warrior licked at the nipple before massaging Bulma’s right breast.
Was something finally stirring below? Yamcha honestly couldn’t tell. He felt numb everywhere.
* “I think he needs a chill pill. Seriously, get him one or two of those pills to help him relax.”*
‘Yeah, grab some of those pills from before,’ hissed the voice from earlier. ‘It definitely made you get it up for Vegeta. It’ll work for Bulma, too!’
A flash of Vegeta’s terrified face suddenly appeared before his eyes, the saiyajin’s wide mouth agape as Yamcha’s energy melted him from the inside. He hadn’t heard the prince’s screams because he was in such a state of drug-induced ecstasy, all he felt and wanted was pleasure. Vegeta’s agonized begging was ignored completely as Yamcha pounded into him with an energy-charged body. The tear-stained, horrified face of the saiyajin prince slowly faded and was replaced with Bulma’s worried expression.
Sitting back, Yamcha shook his head and peered around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Stumbling off the bed, the traumatized fighter pulled his pants and shirt back on.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s not you…I just need…”
“I understand, Yamcha,” Bulma replied quickly as she pulled her comforter around her shoulders. “It’s too soon. I was foolish to have pushed you into this.”
Feeling guilty now, Yamcha pulled on his shoes, his face full of confusion and pleading. “I just need to go for a while. I’ll be back later. I’m sorry.”
And with that, the distraught man quickly rushed from Bulma’s room. Her large blue eyes followed his retreating form and she sighed. Could the day get any worse?
Two days after her crying fiasco in Vegeta’s room and the awkwardness in the bedroom with Yamcha, Bulma stood out in the back yard of Capsule Corp. admiring her work as she gazed up at the huge domed spaceship sitting on the grass. The day the boy from the future came with his haunting story of the androids, Vegeta demanded that her father turn the inner-workings of the spaceship into a gravity simulator. She and her father both worked diligently on creating ki-resistant robots that could deflect the powerful saiyajin’s energy right back at him. He had been training at 450 times earth’s normal gravity before accidentally blowing up the capsule ship with him inside.
That had only been about three weeks ago, Bulma realized. How things could change so quickly. Upon eating one more senzu bean, Vegeta found Bulma in the kitchen of her home and quickly devoured everything in sight. The bandages were gone and Bulma was happy to see that the saiyajin prince had his healthy tan glow back and lively, albeit angry, eyes once more. He was dressed in training gear and demanded access to the gravity room.
“You just need to wait a few hours, pal,” Bulma responded snidely, although she was tickled pink that Vegeta’s fiery attitude was back even without his powers. “It hasn’t been used in a few days and I need to make sure it’s in working order from the damage it sustained when you blew it up.”
“I didn’t blow it up!” Vegeta snarled as he pointed a finger in her face. “You and your useless father miscalculated my strength. Those bots should have been able to handle my energy!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Truthfully, Bulma wanted to get into the ship before Vegeta did to ensure that he wasn’t going to kill himself. She knew the brash saiyajin would push himself to extremes even without his powers. A person of his height and weight with the power level of an average human standing in the middle of the gravity room when it hit even 20-times gravity would be an instant, messy death. And she knew Vegeta was the kind of man who would do such a thing…especially after all that had happened to him. He had to prove that he was strong.
So, Bulma made sure to get into the dome-ship as quickly as possible to rewire the simulator. It would only go to 5-times earth’s normal gravity. It was truly a pathetic number for even earth’s weakest fighters, however, for a person with hardly any power level, it would be almost impossible to handle.
Bulma was excited, though. She would allow Vegeta to enter and train. She was sure he would be outraged about the pathetic limitations of the simulator, and while he was beating himself up inside, she was going to raise his power-level up about two degrees. The idea of un-caging a portion of Vegeta’s energy made the brilliant woman ecstatic—as if a weight was finally being lifted from her guilt-ridden shoulders.
She gave a cheerful wave to the surly fighter as he marched up the ramp into the ship in his blue shorts and white tank-top. Glowering at her, he merely grunted in response and disappeared into the gravity simulator to start his training after five days of being completely inactive and weakened. With his stress-level through the roof, Vegeta was looking forward to cutting loose and trying to bring his energy back…even if it meant destroying his body and mind.
As the door swung closed, Bulma tittered happily, looking exactly like her mother for a moment before rushing into her giant home. As she made her way to the workers’ unit of Capsule Corporation, the blue-haired woman brushed past her happily humming mom as she danced with an armload of laundry.
“I’m so glad to see your smile has returned, dear!” Panchi Briefs quipped.
“Thanks, Mom. How are you doing? I know that you were a little…upset last time you saw Vegeta.”
The incredibly happy blonde let out a long sigh and her pale eyebrows arched in distress. “I just can’t help feeling sorry for that poor man!”
Bulma blinked, completely startled to hear that response. She was positive her mother had run from the room sobbing because of Vegeta’s anger and threats.
“I could just tell he was so alone and betrayed,” Panchi continued. “To feel such anger…it must be so exhausting.”
Bulma smiled and gave her kind-hearted mom a thumbs-up. Walking past the blonde, Bulma called over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Mom! Everything is going to be just fine.”
Entering the infirmary where Vegeta had first appeared as a ghastly corpse only days earlier, Bulma slid open a cabinet drawer and felt a flutter of excitement as she eyed the gray remote-control sitting within. Pulling the contraption free, Bulma examined it carefully before licking her lips and placing a delicate finger along the protruding knob on the corner of the remote. Smiling hopefully, she turned the control up one degree and stood silently, her heart beating loudly as she waited for something magical to happen. When the silence dragged on, she simply laughed and shrugged before clicking the knob to a second degree, releasing more of Vegeta’s power as he trained.
Her eyes lingered over the large green button that would completely unleash the saiyajin’s power, but something told her to wait. It was almost like unwrapping a present. Even though Vegeta had no clue that it was she and her father who had control over his ki, Bulma greatly enjoyed the idea of releasing his power little-by-little, to see his excitement grow day-to-day.
With a girlish squeal, she pranced from one foot to the other before replacing the remote back into its drawer. At this moment, Vegeta was probably bursting with delight at his new-found powers. Bulma wasn’t exactly sure how much strength he had regained with the control setting, but the scientist was eager to see her work in action.
A couple of hours later, Bulma found herself in the kitchen, having a late lunch as her glazed eyes peered out the window and across the yard. The Capsule ship was still alive and humming, but there were no flashes of light bursting from the small round windows. The ship was not shaking or trembling as it had when Vegeta was at his peak of power. Anxiety gnawed at Bulma’s stomach as she wondered if the remote control worked.
However, several minutes later, the lights inside dimmed and the large vertical door slowly lowered onto the ramp. The short saiyajin prince emerged, still dressed in his white top and blue shorts. No blood anywhere, no scrapes or broken bones. His clothes were intact. The warrior looked much different than he usually did when emerging from the gravity simulator.
Bulma readied herself and leaned back in her chair, attempting to look uninterested and cool. As Vegeta marched inside, she noticed that his tan skin was a bit paler than usual and he was sweating quite a lot. He scowled down at her and made his way to the refrigerator.
“So, how’d it go?”
“Why was it only set to—“
The two had spoken over each other and there was an awkward silence. Fishing around in the fridge, Vegeta grabbed a leftover casserole and tossed it onto the table.
“Are you even going to warm it up?” Bulma asked.
Vegeta grunted and sat down with a fork before digging in quickly. “Hungry now.” He consumed half of the dish before swallowing and gazing up at Bulma’s curious face. “The gravity could only go up to 5x Earth’s normal density.”
Crossing her arms, Bulma lifted a blue eyebrow and smirked. “Do you have the energy to handle more than that?”
Vegeta’s fists clenched and Bulma saw the bend in the fork in his hand. The saiyajin’s line of vision followed hers and he dropped the utensil, the handle crushed to the width of a pencil. With an annoyed grunt, Vegeta quickly stood and Bulma noted with some worry that he wobbled slightly.
“Don’t push yourself too hard too fast,” she warned. “There’s a reason I set the gravity to level 5.”
Wheeling around, Vegeta’s angry face was immediately in hers. “If I want to crush myself into a bloody pile of flesh, that is my choice! You don’t get to keep me fucking caged-up like an animal.”
Bulma’s face drained of color at the words and her body froze. He was not referring to his own energy or the fact that it was Bulma herself who kept it trapped, but his sharp voice cut into her like a knife.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” she whispered. Oh yes you are. “I just want to make sure that you get your energy and powers back in a safe way. Killing yourself won’t do you any good.”
“You have no right to even speak to me, bitch.” He grinned darkly at her and Bulma felt the first real shrill of fear at the evil in his eyes. “My power will fully return. I will take care of these androids for your precious planet…and then I’ll be the one who destroys everything in the end!”
Spinning on heel, the short, muscled saiyajin stormed from the kitchen, leaving a mess behind for Bulma to pick up. Feeling her heart race, the genius woman felt her previous fear ebb away and slowly transform into anger. The fucking nerve of that man! Throwing away her remaining lunch and returning the half-eaten casserole to the refrigerator, Bulma paced the kitchen like an angry tiger before marching from the room, as well.
Her jaw clenched in outrage, Bulma stood outside Vegeta’s room. She tested the door handle to check if it was locked, and of course, it was. However, this was her home and she knew the code to any room in the headquarters.
“I don’t care if you’re naked in there, I’m coming in!”
Punching a complex code into the outside system, the blue-haired woman entered Vegeta’s room, angry words already on her tongue. However, she stopped momentarily as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A lump lay in the bed motionlessly and Bulma was surprised to see the brash and usually energetic saiyajin asleep so early in the day—and so quickly, too!
Anxiety erased her anger and Bulma cautiously approached the bed. Circling around the mattress, Bulma peered into the sleeping saiyajin’s features, noting that he appeared almost pained. His breathing was deep and occasionally a distressed moan escaped his lips. He had been yelling in her face only minutes earlier and now here he was dead to the world! Bulma’s eyebrows lowered with concern and she reached a timid hand outward.
Delicate fingers rested on Vegeta’s tall forehead and she could feel that he was clammy and warm. His skin was still a bit pale and she wondered if he had truly outdone himself training for so long in the gravity simulator. The scientist in her still ached to know if he had felt any energy return and if so, what were his capabilities?
Groaning as if in pain, Vegeta rolled onto his back, his expression tense and eyebrows pressed together in distress. He was still in his training clothes. He must have had his argument with Bulma and collapsed right into bed immediately after.
His breathing suddenly picked up and his mouth opened as he panted. Bulma watched in awe as pain and fear etched his features and she found she could not look away. She had seen Vegeta talk in his sleep before. Directly after the gravity simulator had exploded, he mumbled and hissed in his coma about defeating Goku. However, this time, she could practically feel the gnawing fear that ate at him.
One hand twisted in the bed sheet and his head tossed side-to-side. His body shivered and jerked and occasionally a soft cry would escape his clenched teeth.
“N….no, no,” he whispered.
Bulma hovered over his bed, her eyes wildly observing his actions. Vegeta groaned again and let out a shaky breath. His back arched and Bulma wondered if she should wake him.
“Nnggaahh! Let me go. Please…please…”
Bulma’s hand pressed against her heart at the pleading whispers. Sadness held her where she stood and she couldn’t stop the hand that gently caressed the side of Vegeta’s sweaty, pale cheek. Clenching his teeth again, Vegeta groaned as if experiencing terrible agony. His pained yell startled Bulma and she backed away. The saiyajin prince tossed and turned again, laying on his side as he pressed his face into his pillow. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets with crushing strength and much to Bulma’s fascination, his fists began to glow. Faint blue light emanated from Vegeta’s hands and the Capsule Corp. heiress could only watch in shock and wonder as the energy grew and danced along the prince’s knuckles and fingers.
At this rate, he was going to tear the bed apart. Approaching cautiously, Bulma was afraid to wake him. She didn’t know if his power was stable and she certainly didn’t know how furious he would be to find that she had broken into his room while he slept. Still, the sheets and pillow were slowly being torn by his ki-lit hands and his whimpering and panting were only increasing.
Taking a chance, Bulma leaned in and brushed her fingernails along Vegeta’s flushed cheekbones. Calling his name gently, she patted his right cheek and repeated his name. His cries quieted and she ran her fingers through his feathery hair, surprised by how light and airy the texture was. Nothing like Goku’s knotted mane, Vegeta’s dark fur was soft to the touch. Her actions seemed to calm him greatly and she scratched her nails delicately along his scalp as if petting a cat.
The blue glow disappeared and Bulma held back a laugh as the saiyajin suddenly nuzzled into his pillow, his face disappearing into the soft fluff as the woman above continued to stroke through his hair. He moaned once more, however this sound was full of pleasure. The tension in his eyebrows decreased greatly and Bulma was amazed at how young Vegeta suddenly appeared. Turning his face to the side, the saiyajin’s breath calmed considerably and the stress on his face slowly softened. Bulma scratched his head and smiled, her heart fluttering at how innocent he looked—how incredibly handsome he was.
Vegeta’s mouth parted slightly and he let out a pleased sigh, his sleeping form pressing into Bulma’s hand appreciatively. Drawing away slowly, Bulma ran her fingers along his cheek one more time before she turned and left the room. Bulma suddenly had a feeling that she had done something dirty or traitorous as her thoughts immediately trailed to Yamcha. Peering one more time at Vegeta’s sleeping form, she heaved a baffled sigh and walked away, making sure to lock the door behind her.
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Resolution on a Lonely Planet