A/N: This is my first fic, and I'm only doing it for a bit of fun. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.

Chapter 1: Seeds

Staring at the pile of seeds in the palm of her hand, Bulma Briefs sat at the kitchen table of Capsule Corps contemplating the biological cycle of growth. She thumbed the seeds gently, wondering how much fertilizer each would need. As of late the small crew of scientists belonging to Enviro-Corp, an offshoot of her father's company, had been developing a formula to enhance the speed of plant growth. Armed with a small sample of the fertilizer, Bulma fully planned on growing her own small garden in the back of the compound next to her mother's large oak tree. And, she thought as a small smile crept over her features, It's always nice to test out your products yourself before selling it to the public.

Bulma glanced out the window towards the Gravity Room and the future sight of her garden beyond. Indeed, the weather was calling her name and would be the perfect environment for her new project – a project without sharp points, screws, nuclear reactors, or aliens. A project that actually requires some nurturing… she thought happily, dumping the seeds back into their packaging and dusting off her hands. Suddenly a muffled thump and a curse erupted from outside, and Bulma jerked up out of her seat.

"Blasted chamber…" Vegeta muttered darkly as he threw the kitchen door open, his eyes downcast on his boots.

Speaking of needing nurturing, Bulma thought with a smirk as she relaxed and leaned against the table, crossing her legs and tossing her long, wavy blue hair over her shoulder. "Hey stud, what's shakin?" she cajoled mockingly, batting her long eyelashes devilishly.

Vegeta glanced up at her with slight surprise written on his face, his eyes traveling down her figure – clad in a red, long-sleeved dress that ended nearer her behind than her knees – so quickly that Bulma scarcely noticed. He could hear his father's words echoing in his head: "Son, always size up your enemy. Even his clothing dictates his status." What would the old man say about this female siren? Vegeta thought with narrowed vision. He could almost hear the reply. "Dangerous as any. You'll be looking for what's between the legs and you'll miss what's between the ears." Of all the women in the world, this one would have the capability to engineer death for a saiyan. "What do you mean by 'shakin'?" he replied gruffly before gracefully moving on to the refrigerator.

"It's a phrase, silly," she said lightly, pushing off the table and walking towards him, hips swaying gently with the ease of a well-practiced gait, "It means 'Hey, what's going on with you?' or 'how's life?'" Cocking her head to the side, Bulma smiled as she watched him retrieve various foods carefully, sizing them up for both nutritional and taste value. She wondered vaguely if he ever stopped thinking at all – if there was ever a moment when absolutely nothing was on his mind. If Saiyans have greater senses in general, surely their brains must work infinitely faster than ours? She watched his muscles flex and relax beneath his skin as he moved about. Considering Goku, though, perhaps that feature would be limited to Vegeta. Grabbing the apple he had just set on the counter, she ran it under the faucet and picked up a knife to cut it with. Turning back to him she said, "You're more than welcome to enquire about my day or feelings at any time," with a coquettish smile.

Vegeta flared his nostrils as her movement blasted her feminine scent all over his face. "Don't be ridiculous, female," he growled, snatching the apple from her possessively, "Just because you choose to waste your breath on me doesn't mean I'll grant you the same favor."

Without dropping her smile, Bulma took a step towards him and held out her hand. "I was going to cut that for you, you know," she said, piercing his eyes with her own. "I figured I'd do something for you before you screamed at me."

Vegeta tensed for a moment. He supposed that had she wanted to inflict damage she would have attacked him with the instrument in her other hand. Looking from the red apple in his hand back to her face once or twice, he muttered something before shoving it back into her palm and turning away.

"What was that, Saiyan?" she replied happily, turning her ear towards him. "Was that a thank-you I heard?" She saw his back muscles bunch together in irritation.

He half-turned his head towards her. "I said I'm glad you know your place," he hissed as his fists clenched. Snatching the rest of the food into his embrace, he stalked off to the table.

Grinning at his retreating figure, Bulma went to cut the fruit. She knew a 'thank-you' when she heard one. Remembering how things were when Vegeta had first come to live with them, her brow furrowed a bit. At first, every snide comment he made compelled her into a screaming hissy-fit and pushed him farther into whatever dismal shell he had made for himself. Eventually, she had begun to notice that her happiness seemed dependent on his and vice versa; for instance, as she sat and stewed in the lab, throwing tools across the room and cursing, Vegeta blasted apart her robots, threatened the gardener, punched holes in the wall, and tore the kitchen apart.

On the whole, it seemed more beneficial for her to try to get along with the alien.

So she switched tactics and returned to attempting to be sweet to him. Although they most definitely still had their own ground-shaking rows, they were fewer and farther in between. Bulma reasoned that this co-dependency was due to his lack of interaction with anyone else, other than her mother and father at times. She, of course, had a much more sensitive disposition – which she hadn't known until she met Vegeta – and took his comments and derision to heart. Most every other man that she had met had been enamored with her or at least respected her, and she was quite content with being in charge and obeyed; on the other hand, Vegeta was a prince from another planet. She could blame it on that.

Vegeta glanced up at the blue-haired vixen as he mechanically shoveled food into his mouth. He had noticed how a little dimple formed on one of her cheeks when she was in thought, and there it was again. "Cutting that little piece of fruit must be quite the challenge for your weak intellect," he remarked almost conversationally, smirking to himself smugly.

Strutting over to his side with the plate of apple slices and a bowl of caramel sauce, Bulma set the plate before him, grasped the back of his chair, and leaned in close, giving him a generous view of her cleavage. "Not nearly the challenge that learning how to use chopsticks was for you," she murmured sweetly, staring into his eyes beneath her fan of lashes. Vegeta blinked dumbly before his visage darkened with embarrassment. Pulling away with a twinkling laugh, Bulma sat in the seat next to him and crossed her slender legs slowly. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings." Tossing him a smile over her shoulder, she grabbed an extra fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. "You're too sensitive," she said, popping the bite into her mouth and closing her eyes like it was crème brulee.

Vegeta watched her in silence, his deep gaze lingering on the movement of her cherry lips. Dangerous… his father warned him again as she opened her blue orbs lazily to smirk at him. Shoving his food away with a growl, Vegeta snarled, "You disgust me," and with a last smoldering glance her way, he stalked out of the kitchen.

Bulma's eyes followed him out as he retreated to the GR and slammed the door shut on the way. A twinge of regret wormed its way into her stomach as her gaze traveled back to the uneaten food on the table. After training all morning, he had barely touched his meal, and Bulma knew well what an empty stomach did to the temperamental Saiyan. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, the scientist stood up and gathered the plates together. A few minutes later she staggered out to the GR loaded down with a massive platter of delicacies. "Vegeta!" she yelled patiently as she banged on the door, "I've got your lunch!" She waited for a minute or so for him to power down the machine. "VEGETA!" she shouted with more force, banging incessantly.

All at once the power turned off, and with the speed only a Saiyan could muster, Vegeta flung the door open and glared at her. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, WENCH??" he yelled back, the veins in his neck bulging and his eyes flashing dangerously.

Bulma flinched, her eyes widening in surprise. She waited to answer him as his chest heaved up and down in anger. "I brought you… lunch," she said softly, staring into his eyes as he glared at her.

Vegeta snorted derisively and glanced at the platter in her arms. "Is that it?" he muttered as he looked back to her face with a frown and crossed his arms.

Bulma felt her face turn red with anger and… embarrassment? "Better this than nothing at all," she replied as she shoved the food towards him. "Now eat," she continued as she turned away from him, "Because I can't deal with a grumpy Saiyan. You're bad enough as it is." Gracing him with the view of her voluptuous behind, Bulma shook her hair as she walked down the ramp back to the house.

Vegeta stood still as the woman moved away, stalking her with his gaze. One side of his mouth began to lift ever so slightly to form the smallest almost-smile ever created, but he caught it and squashed the feeling before it could grace his face. "Pitiful female," he muttered darkly as she entered the house. Vegeta turned and drew back into his gloomy dwelling.

***

"Sweetie, did you move the crème puffs I put in the fridge?"

"Did you ask Vegeta, Mom?"

"Oh honey, he's been training all day. I don't think he had the time to rearrange the food."

Bulma put her head in her hands and sighed. "Vegeta doesn't move food, Mother. He inhales it." It had been two days since she'd seen the Saiyan, and that was fine with her.

Tilting her head to the side, Bunny asked nervously, "Is that healthy? Maybe you should check on him…"

Bulma lifted her head and glared at her mother. "Sorry Mom, but I'm not interrupting his precious training again. In fact," she continued, her face brightening as she pulled the basket of seeds towards her, "I've got a little project to start on today."

"Oooo," Bunny squealed as she rushed to her daughter's side. "Are you going to help the gardener?"

"Actually," Bulma replied as she rose from the table and moved towards the door, "He's helping me, I guess. He already dug up a part of the yard for my own little garden."

Bunny looked at the blue-haired woman blankly, clasping her hands together. "Where's he going to put it, dear?"

Bulma stared at her mother incredulously. "Go look for the crème puffs, Mom," she said gently, grabbing her gloves off the counter and leaving her mother to the wide world of the kitchen.

***

Holding her eyelids open carefully with her fingers, Bulma waited for a breeze to coax her into crying the dirt from her eyes. "You put it there, now get it back out!" she shouted angrily to the now-nonexistant breeze as she sat on her haunches in the soil. "This hurts and I look absolutely ridiculous!"

"Well for once you're right," came a gruff reply from behind her. Bulma spun her torso towards the voice, still holding her lids back. Vegeta stood behind her in his training shorts and shoes, a towel thrown over his naked shoulder. Blood tingled in her cheeks as Bulma stared blearily at his sculpted muscles, golden skin, and wind-blown hair. "What in the world are you screeching about, Woman?"

Bulma felt embarrassment wash over her. "I've got dirt in my eyes, Vegeta," she whined, finally letting her lids drop. "This hurts like hell… I think there's some sand in it too…"

Vegeta's eyebrows rose in disdain as Bulma blinked and rubbed her eyes in vain. "You are the single-most pitiful being I have ever seen."

"Thanks. You're the biggest jerk I've ever seen. I would glare at you if my eyes weren't screaming in pain," she said sarcastically. Again she attempted to hold one eye open while fanning it with her other hand.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Cooling off my eyeballs. What do you think? I'm trying to get my eyes to water so it'll some out!"

Dropping to one knee, Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her. "Is this what you do all day instead of fixing my machine?"

"Seriously, Vegeta?" she moaned. "Do me a favor, okay? Blow on it."

Vegeta blinked. "What?"

"Blow on it! Blow on my eyeball!" she pouted inclining her head towards his.

"Absolutely not!" he said indignantly, pulling away.

"Please! My corneas are burning!" she moaned, letting go of her eyes and grabbing hold of his gleaming shoulders.

Vegeta felt his skin light on fire at her touch. "Get your mate to do it!" he replied, shoving her head away as gently as he could.

Bulma shot across the yard and landed fifty feet away.

"Oww…" he heard her murmur plaintively.

Gasping slightly, Vegeta shot over to her side. "Are you dead yet?" he asked hopefully, leaning over her face. He felt a twinge of regret that he hadn't gotten to blast her instead. Bulma moaned in response, triggering a squirm in the Saiyan's stomach. That sound was entirely too provocative for the female. "Woman?"

"My… eyes," she moaned again. "They burn."

"What the hell is wrong with you humans?" he muttered incredulously.

"Blow on them… and I won't tell Goku that you punched me," she groaned.

"I never –"

"Depends on how it's told."

Glaring at her, Vegeta snorted, his father's warning rolling back through his mind. "You dare to threaten me, little female?" he murmured, leaning in close with his hands on either side of her head and breathing in her scent.

A smile began to creep over her face as she tried to crack her eyes open. "No, not really," she sighed, a giggle working its way into her voice. "I really just want to get this dirt out of my eye."

Vegeta pulled back a bit, surprised by her candor. What a strange creature this is. Breathing deeply, Vegeta muttered, "Alright. Get up, Woman."

Smiling, Bulma scrambled to her knees and unsteadily leaned towards him again. "You're a doll, Vegeta," she sighed happily.

"I'm not touching your hideous visage. You do it," he growled.

Ignoring his malicious comment, Bulma opened her eyes with difficulty. Vegeta hesitated, but her innocent face and bleary eyes lulled him into submission, and he leaned in nervously to blow on her face. Bulma felt relieve as his cool breath swept across her eyes. "Again…" she murmured when he paused. Vegeta fought the urge to pummel her into the ground as he blew across her face again, leaning in a little closer. As tears began to pour down her face, Bulma felt relief. When the mascara had all but pooled on the ground, Bulma blinked and looked into the eyes of her glorious saviour.

Vegeta stared right back at her, his face beginning to cloud in consternation. "Threaten me again or mention this to anyone, girl, and I will break your fragile neck," he growled.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Bulma gave a watery laugh. "Since when did I get demoted to 'girl'?"

Vegeta stood and cast his gaze towards the little patch of tilled soil. "Since when did you return to playing in the dirt?"

With a small smile, Bulma rose and lithely walked to the garden, wondering vaguely if Vegeta had ever taken the time to find out where his food was produced. "It's a garden, Vegeta. Humans grow flowers and vegetables in them." Bulma grinned as she looked back at the stoic man. "I'm starting a small experiment. You like vegetables, right?"

Vegeta's face darkened with resentment. "I'm not some lab rat for you to toy with, girl," he said as he stalked towards her warily.

Laughing, Bulma tossed her hair long, wavy hair over her shoulder. "I'm not toying with you, boy, I'm inviting you to learn something new."

"What is there to learn from you?" he replied with a smirk as he stood next to her and surveyed her work, sticking his hands in his pockets. Little bumps of dirt were spread across the small square of grassless soil.

Bulma again chose to ignore his quip. "I'm growing food, Vegeta. Our scientists developed a fertilizer that increases the growth of plants exponentially, where a plant that would grow anywhere from sixty to ninety days normally would mature anywhere from twenty to forty days." Bulma pauses as she calculated in her head. "That's about right, I think."

Glancing at the foreign creature beside him, Vegeta moved towards the garden and nudged a mound of dirt with his shoe. "What have you done… so far?" he asked gruffly.

Bulma observed the man before her for a moment. After living with the temperamental Saiyan for about a year, she had come to know most of his little quirks of character, whereby she could read him better than anyone else. From experience she knew that the most fleeting, rarest emotion that Vegeta had – other than that of love, but let's not get too funny here – was true interest. Anger, boredom, contempt, and even sadness were all emotions that she had identified often enough; interest, however, was rare indeed. Bulma snatched at her chance to ensnare the Saiyan further. "These two rows here are varieties of flowers," she said slowly, her words bringing back the memory of the Badman incident. "I wanted a layer of prettiness before I got to the boring vegetables."

Vegeta glanced at her with the assurance that she was indeed insane. "You find nourishment… boring?"

Bulma shrugged nonchalantly. "Vegetables are mostly just green or brown with no bright colors or unique petals. Plus," she added impishly with a flick of her hair, "They remind me of you."

Vegeta's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What are you talking about, Woman?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she laughed, her pearly teeth gleaming and eyes sparkling. "V-E-G-E-T-A-bles? Vegetables? I find it humorous."

"I find killing you humorous," he growled, crossing his arms defensively.

"Anyway, I'm done planting for today. Tomorrow I'll get started on the… greens." Bulma paused, choosing her words carefully. "You know," she said slyly, moving towards him, " I could really use some help getting these in the ground, watering them, nurturing them… Do you want to help me?"

Vegeta's nostrils flared as her feminine scent assailed his mind again. "I'm no servant to be called upon," he glowered.

Bulma blinked back up at him innocently. "But Vegeta, you get to eat whatever you grow!" she said excitedly, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes. "Plus, I don't think you've ever gotten to see the growth process of your food before, what with your always having been in space. Don't you want to experience it?"

How can someone so beautiful be so nerdy? He thought before mentally slapping himself for complimenting her. On the other hand, she was right. He was actually interested in watching this process. He might even give up watching a few human war movies to see this, and that was saying something.

"Even Goku has a garden," she murmured innocently into the breeze.

Vegeta's head snapped up.

Any minute shred of knowledge that buffoon has, I must have as well! He thought possessively, balling his fists. With a snarl, Vegeta shoved past the blue-haired female towards the house. Abruptly he paused, gracing her with a quarter profile. "Put any of that in the ground without my permission and I kill that ludicrous woman you call a mother," he snarled.

"See you tomorrow, then," she replied with a smile.

Vegeta stormed towards the house, muttering curses.

A/N: Read and review! Thanks!