Chapter Text
Bulma’s alarm on her watch beeped shrilly, startling her out of her deep concentration. Oooo. Lunchtime. She sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers – she could feel a headache coming, and hopefully some food and caffeine would halt it in its tracks. Putting her tools down and stretching, Bulma realized how hungry she was. When she was working, it was easy to focus on nothing but her current project. Hence the need to set alarms on her watch so her mother wouldn’t chide her for missing meals. Glancing down at the bot on her worktable, she pointed at it and waggled a finger. “I’ll tackle you after lunch.”
Walking the labyrinthine halls of Capsule Corporation, she could smell her mother’s cooking before she came anywhere close to the kitchen. Delicious aromas wafting through the halls made her stomach growl. Panchy enjoyed cooking. She always had. The Briefs had robots who could do any work around the house that Panchy wanted them to, but Bulma’s mother insisted on cooking. Bulma and her father were brilliant workaholics, and Panchy insisted that the family take breaks to eat meals together.
“Hey Mom! How are you?”
Panchy took a break from stirring a pot of marinara sauce to wave delightedly at her daughter. “Hello dear! It’s almost ready!”
Dr. Briefs had beaten her to the kitchen. Scratch was lounging in his lap, stretching lazily and yawning. Her father’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he worked on a crossword puzzle.
“Gotta make another cup first.” Bulma had stayed up too late and woken up too early. Stifling a yawn, she turned on the coffeemaker and dug a mug out of a cabinet.
“Another cup? Bulma, dear, that’s your third today!” Panchy worriedly cupped her cheeks in her hands. “I don’t want my little girl working too hard!”
Bulma laughed. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m so close to a breakthrough on making Vegeta’s bots even more durable in combat. With any luck, he won’t need to pester me so often to fix them.” Will he thank me? No. My genius is so unappreciated. She had to admit she was becoming quite a caffeine addict. It had begun since her houseguest had moved in. Her very demanding houseguest. She poured herself a cup and smelled deeply. Mmm. Nothing beats the smell of freshly roasted coffee. On top of her normal workload, she was now catering to a spoiled prince.
Speak of the devil. Vegeta wandered into the kitchen, barely sparing Bulma or her parents a glance. Most of the time, he ignored them. Unless he needed something. “Woman, fix this bot immediately!” “Woman, something is wrong with the Gravity Machine!” Woman, your mother didn’t leave enough dinner! Operate this phone and order food!” Bulma tried to ignore the fact he was shirtless. That sweat glistened on his perfectly muscled chest. That he…
“What’s that?”
“Huh?” His gravelly voiced startled her.
“What is that?” Vegeta pointed at her mug, glowering at the dark liquid with his equally dark eyes. He had a perpetual scowl. Food, beverages, and other inanimate objects were not immune to his irritated glares.
“This? Oh, it’s coffee. It has a lot of caffeine in it and helps keep you awake and more alert. Want to try some?”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Such a chatterbox.
“Do you want it black? Or do you want some creamer in it?”
He shrugged. Honestly, an incredible conversationalist.
“Well, let’s see what we have.” Bulma dug through the refrigerator. Since their houseguest had arrived, the Briefs had to keep their refrigerator filled to the brim with food. And does he thank us? Of course not. Jerk. “French vanilla, caramel, hazelnut…”
“Woman, I don’t know what any of those words mean.” Vegeta’s arms were crossed, his fingers tapping, a tell-tale sign he was running out of his very limited patience.
Bulma rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll make yours the same way I make mine. You seem like a caramel kind of guy!”
And, of course, no response.
“Okay then! You’re in luck – I brewed enough for two.” Bulma put her own mug on the counter and got a second cup. Vegeta watched her curiously as she poured some coffee into the cup for him. She poured in some caramel creamer in both mugs, stirred them, then handed Vegeta his. “Well? What do you think?”
He sipped it. “It is adequate.”
“Wow! That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Tch.” He took another sip. “It tastes much better than the swill I’m used to.”
“Well, it’s good to know I can brew a cup of coffee that’s better than swill.” Taking a sip out of her own mug, Bulma sighed contentedly. “This is my third cup today. Working on making your bots even better, mister.”
And the scowl deepened. “If they were engineered properly to begin with, they would have no need of your work and continuous improvements.”
“Excuse me?” Bulma put her mug on the counter so she could put her hands on her hips and look outraged. Because she felt she could only properly express how outraged she felt with her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t expecting a bratty prince to use our Gravity Machine for hours every day! And blow up my bots every time he has a temper tantrum!”
His dark eyes flashed. “Your mudball’s failure to properly prepare for threats is not my concern.”
“Oh, I would say that it is, considering you’re staying here on this mudball.” The smell of delicious marinara sauce was maddening. Bulma was hungry. And when she got hungry, she got angry. And when Vegeta was around, she seemed to get even angrier. She knew he was going to turn his attention away from her and open the fridge. That was the only reason he had come in here – his continuous quest to consume calories. He put his mug down on the kitchen table and turned his attention to stuffing his face. And when his back was turned, his head in the fridge scouring for food, she grabbed his coffee and dumped it in the sink.
As soon as he heard the liquid splash, he turned around, slamming the fridge, one of his hands angrily clutching a leftover sandwich, his eyes glaring daggers. “Woman! Make me another cup! I demand it!”
Bulma marched up to him, unafraid, poked a finger in his chest, and glared right back. “Make it yourself, you jerk!”
With superhuman speed, Vegeta swept around her, grabbed her mug, and dumped the contents out in the sink with a triumphant smirk. He strode out of the kitchen to angry squeals, confidently chomping on his stupid sandwich.
Dr. Briefs still concentrated on his crossword puzzle.
Panchy sighed. “Well, I guess we can all eat now.”