A/N: Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger! Thanks guys for all the faves, follows, and reviews! :)

Apparently, what she was supposed to do was get virtually nothing done in her life, aside replaying that scenario almost every night and pine for that which had steadfastly evaded her since.

Bulma was beginning to feel like an animal in heat, and she detested herself for it. She was better than this! She was a genius! A mogul! She wasn't some desperate floozy whose only ideations were about her next good time!

… Except that's definitely what she was. Her house guest had remained elusive, and she was sure she'd only seen him in the last week via the cameras in the GR which she certainly wasn't abusing on her downtime.

It was driving her crazy. The memory of his solid body. How clearly she could feel that part of him, pressing insistently against her. His heat.

Bulma chewed at the eraser end of her pencil and jiggled her knees under the desk as she worried over the memories and just longed.

But, genius that she was, an idea came to her. It inspired her beyond her one-track mind, and honestly it was relief to have something that wasn't just that on her brain.

Not that that wasn't the end goal in mind, here.

….

"Vegeta?"

He froze at the sound of her oddly sweet tone behind him, suspended in air. Immediately distrustful. Immediately on edge. She could see it in every rigid line of him.

"Why are you interrupting me?" Vegeta barked after a heavy moment, only casting her his profile from over his shoulder.

He didn't deny her entirely. That was promising.

"Well, I have something that might interest you. I've been working on it, and - well-"

"What I have has been sufficient enough presently," he snarled and turned away again. "I'll tell you when I need something; you don't tell me."

She had to curl her fingers and toes tightly, and it had to be lust that let her accept such condescension.

Bulma swallowed, continuing with carefully chosen words, "Look, you want advancement in your training? I've got the goods. Take 'em, or don't, but I'll be in my lab the rest of the afternoon if you want to take a peek."

She didn't wait for a response, her pride allowing her that much as she blipped off the holo.

Bulma glanced aside to her creation and bit her lip, hoping this wouldn't derail her efforts altogether.

However, it didn't take as long she thought it would for the princely Saiyan to make an appearance. About an hour and a half later, the lab doors hissed apart to announce his entrance, and he strode into the room with his arms folded tightly and sweat still gleaming across his forehead and bare torso.

He was certainly a tall drink of water, and she had been parched for the last week since their encounter. She ached at the sight of him, and the most radical part of her wanted to taste each droplet on his brow.

His heated stare seared through her, and she wagered he too could recount vividly their earlier episode. Vegeta didn't dare go much further beyond the threshold. He was eyeing her with blatant suspicion, and she supposed she couldn't blame him.

After all, this was how traps generally began.

And, for all intents and purposes, this was definitely a trap.

So she moved first, kicking her red heels down from atop her desk and rising from her chair to approach him at a deliberate pace. "How're those new droids?"

"You said you had something," he steered the conversation back to face-value intention.

Okay, then.

"I do," Bulma nodded, holding up a finger to pause him. "Now, I know you didn't ask for it, but I really think-"

"Hurry up, woman," Vegeta rolled his eyes, and Bulma felt the blush of indignation saturate her cheeks. "You're wasting my time with your prattle."

"I'm getting there, you jerk!" She spat with a stamp of her foot, anger winning out over other competing, baser emotions. He seemed to appreciate that at least, as something mischievous flashed in his eyes as he narrowed in on her. "Could you be fucking courteous for five seconds?"

He smirked, and her stomach tightened. "Is that how long this is going to take? I can start counting."

She was beginning to regret the whole stupid plan. With every ounce of patience and civility she could muster, Bulma turned on her heel and stomped into a side closet room. Away from his rich glower and bronzed skin, she could breathe again. The air already felt ten times lighter in here, and she inhaled as deeply as her lungs would allow.

After a few seconds of respite, Bulma regathered herself enough to wheel the large mannequin into the lab proper.

Vegeta's reaction was instantaneous, and she reveled in each glorious moment of it.

First came surprise. She didn't know his eyebrows could get that high on his forehead, thinking they were perhaps permanently knit together in consternation. It was, if there needed to be a word applied, cute.

Second came confusion. That one was irregular, but not uncommon. Vegeta was often confounded by daily life around the Capsule compound, and Bulma had already long-since categorized that one as cute, too.

But the third reaction made all her hair stand on end. She was fairly certain that every inch of her body was covered in gooseflesh as Vegeta rounded on the armor-clad mannequin with a look of unadulterated awe.

His mouth hung partially open, eyes intense and focused in a way she had never seen before. Bulma hoped privately that he had never looked at anything like that before now. It made her feel dizzy and proud, and she nervously worked the ends of her lab coat sleeves between her fingers as she hungrily observed his scrutiny.

Eventually, he halted in his pacing, standing to the side of the mannequin. One rough knuckle lifted, and he knocked twice at the shiny white breastplate.

"How?" He muttered under his breath, and she wished horribly he would just look at her.

"I know my mother bought you a bunch of clothes recently," she stifled a chuckle at his wrinkled nose, "but I know those aren't really your style. And I know the only other armor you had was- well-"

Vegeta cut her off with a look that hedged on sour, but still held that level of esteem. Her heart skipped a beat, and she pressed on, moving slowly to join him at the mannequin's side.

"I remembered my dad and I had retrieved a bunch of data from your pods and scouters, and there were some general schematics on that type of armor you guys wore. So I just made some adjustments, given the details we've gathered from your and Goku's trainings, and-"

Quicker than a breath, he reached out and snatched her wrist before she could touch her own creation, yanking her so close to him she could feel the heat of him surround her.

"Why?" That awe was now near completely dissolved under a blanket of suspicion again, and his inky gaze bore so madly into her own that her answer got caught up in her throat.

"I- I just wanted to help-"

"No," he sniffed and eyed her up and down. He wasn't buying it.

Vegeta reiterated, "Why?"

Bulma thinned her lips together and squinted up at him. Did he know? Did he want to know? It seemed like he was challenging her for a truer answer, and not one to back down from a fight, she offered a coy wink in return. "And maybe I just really wanted to see you in something a little more form fitting? I mean, don't get me wrong, the shorts are nice…" She allowed her eyes to wander appreciatively down to his thighs...

He threw her arm down as if burned and took a step backward. "You really are a crude little strumpet, aren't you?"

The rosy tint in his cheeks was adorable. Bulma followed him that step forward and preened. "Probably," she supplied, then tilted her head toward the armor. "You gonna try it on or what?"

Vegeta eyed her warily, then the suit. She licked her lips in anticipation of his answer.

At last, he consented with a nod and, with zero preamble, he stripped his shorts down and Bulma nearly gagged at the vision laid before her.

There he stood, unabashed and exposed entirely in the middle of her lab, and she realized in that instance that her imagination alone - while brilliant - simply couldn't conjure such detail. Every inch of him was chiseled and golden, like those statues in museums, the ones with signs that say "Please Don't Touch" and all she had ever wanted to do was reach out and touch.

She had to press her tongue hard against the back of her teeth to fight off the urge to do just that.

Vegeta glanced at her as he toed off his sneakers, the barest hint of a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. "Don't tell me you've finally learned to shut up, woman."