A/N: I do not care if the ages are not right, I tried. I tried okay? I tried so hard! There are a crap-ton of discrepancies out there. Oh, and happy holidays!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own DBZ, GT, or Christmas.

A pile of envelopes were stacked haphazardly on the kitchen counter. Taking off her white lab coat and draping it on a stool, Bulma Brief began to go through them, one by one.

"Christmas card, Christmas card, bill, Christmas card, another credit card," she mumbled.

Then she stopped, went back a few envelopes, and slowly eyed the one with the formal type-font. It had been years since she had received a paper bill. Besides, she had paid her expenses for the month. How had this one slipped past her accountant?

Bulma used her sharp pink fingernail to rip open the back of the envelope. Her eyes grew in astonishment at what she was reading.

"Reminder notice," she read aloud. "Mrs. Brief, this is to remind you that your account, in the amount of 776,635.96 yen is overdue. Please note that if this amount is not paid before December 26th, a late fee of 18,000 yen will be assessed and your account will be reassigned to a debt recovery agency. Thank-you for assisting us in this matter, Sun Regard."

Bulma was baffled. She had never been in default for any payment in her life, much less for some company with a ridiculous name. Just what were they accusing her of buying anyway? It was winter for Kame's sake! She certainly hadn't stocked up on suntan lotion.

There was a folded paper behind the notice that provided an answer. She had apparently paid for diamond-encrusted, gold-framed sunglasses with ivory temples.

She was reading the letter again when her son, Trunks, entered the kitchen. He went straight toward the refrigerator without acknowledging her presence.

Trying hard to keep her temper, Bulma closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Trunks? Sweetheart?"

The teenager grunted but didn't remove his head from the fridge.

"Did you happen to purchase a pair of sunglasses without telling me? Maybe as an early Christmas present this year?"

"Nope," he said with his mouth full. He stood up and took a swig out a carton. "I don't wear shades anyway, mom."

Bulma believed him, but the response puzzled her. "Well, the only other person around here is your sister and she's in kindergarten. I doubt she went and bought a pair of expensive sunglasses on the Internet-"

At that very moment Vegeta walked into the kitchen, his boots tracking dirt onto the floor. He strutted over to the fridge where Trunks was standing.

"Out of the way boy," he ordered gruffly, pushing his son to his left. His head in the fridge he exclaimed, "Who drank all of my orange juice?"

Trunks hurriedly wiped the stain from his upper lip, but something else had caught Bulma's attention. She stood up and tried to collect herself.

"VEGETA!"

The sudden noise must've startled her husband because he hit his head on the freezer door he had opened. Holding onto his forehead, Vegeta scowled.

"What is it now, woman?"

How had she not noticed it before? There he was, in a black tank and baggy gray sweats wearing a pair of golden sunglasses as though he were some sort of god or worse, a celebrity.

"Give me the glasses."

He gave her an incredulous look.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "Go get your own."

"I said, give me the damn sunglasses," repeated Bulma, losing her patience. "I can't believe you!"

"What's your problem?" he asked her, backing up a little when she stepped toward him, her eyes flashing. "You're insane!"

"My problem," Bulma said through clenched teeth, waving the invoice in Vegeta's face, "is that you bought a pair of sunglasses that cost as much as a car!"

Using agility she knew Vegeta didn't think she had, Bulma snatched the glasses off of his face and put them behind her back. He lunged for them but she whipped around so that she was against a counter.

"Give them back, woman!"

"If you want these stupid glasses back you're going to have to fork over some cash, buddy!" she exclaimed. "Pay up or these are going to charity!"

Vegeta's left eye was twitching nervously and a vein had appeared on his forehead. His temperament the last couple of years had been more or less calm, but Bulma knew she was pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

She also didn't care very much.

"Hand them over," he said in a low voice, his breathing steadier than before.

She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. "Looks like I've got me a brand new pair of sunglasses. Hey Trunks, how do I look?"

The glasses were on her face now and for a moment, Bulma could see why Vegeta wanted them back so badly. The lenses were creamily tinted, washing all of her surroundings in light sepia. The frames were warming her face. She wondered if there was a heating mechanism inside…

"The-they're nice," stammered Trunks, backing out of the kitchen with his hands in the air. "I'm uh, I'm gonna go, alright?"

He bolted.

"He's gone," Vegeta said with a snarl. "So you can end your paltry display of dominance. Give them to me."

"Pay for them."

It was entirely possible that Vegeta had never been asked to pay for anything in his life, because his eyes widened and his jaw slackened at her repeated suggestions. While he was incapacitated by surprise, Bulma launched an attack.

"What?" she asked. "Haven't you ever exchanged money for goods before? Because let me tell you, that's the only way you're getting these sunglasses back! Thanks to you I have to give Sun Regard an outlandish amount of money!"

"Don't be preposterous!" Vegeta said angrily. "I refuse!"

It was at this statement that Bulma began to question whether or not she should have given Vegeta access to her credit cards at all. It was obvious the man was used to getting everything he asked for. And it had never been a problem seeing as how Vegeta never wanted for much, but this was getting ridiculous. This arrogant Saiyan was irking her to no end, but at least she was keeping a level head about it.

"HOW DARE YOU THINK THAT I WOULD JUST PAY ALL OF YOUR BILLS, NO QUESTIONS ASKED! I ALREADY PAY FOR EVERYTHING AROUND HERE! I AM NOT PAYING FOR THESE UGLY GLASSES TOO!"

"Those glasses are not ugly!" he shouted at her.

"That's not the point!"

"What is the point?" Vegeta shot back.

"The point is… the point…" Bulma struggled to find an adequate response. "The point is that I want you to pay me back! Get a job!"

He was looking at her like she had sprouted an extra head. Perhaps she had; she had just suggested that her royal pain-in-the-ass spouse get a job.

"I am Vegeta," he began slowly, both of his fists clenched at his side, "the Prince of all-"

"Saiyans," she finished for him, tired of his charade. She feigned a yawn and leaned an elbow on the counter. "Tell me something I don't know, alright?"

"You can't tell me what to do."

Bulma arched an eyebrow. Having spent nearly two decades with the man, she was pretty sure she could. Of course, trying to outwit Vegeta would require finesse. Challenging him with displays of aggression wouldn't work. He had too much pride.

"Fine, whatever," she said, removing the glasses and setting them in front of her. "If you don't know how to work, I understand. I'm sure you weren't allowed to get your fingers dirty on your home planet either."

Vegeta unclenched his fists. For a moment Bulma was disappointed in his inability after all of these years to recognize when someone was using reverse psychology. Injuring his pride in order to get her way was not a foreign concept.

"Let's face it, Vegeta," said Bulma, handing him the glittering glasses and using her free hand to cover her mouth as she laughed. "You're not exactly the working type."

He didn't take the sunglasses. Instead he curled his lip and narrowed his brown eyes to slits. "And what type am I?"

"The freeloading type."

Bulma began to walk away but he grabbed her arm before she could move one foot in front of the other. He had kept his temper so far. She had to hand it to him.

"I know what you're doing, woman," he growled. "But I intend to win this battle."

Bulma batted her eyes.

"What battle? You're going to actually look for a job? And hand over money? To me?"

He scowled.

"You're on."

Damn those blasted glasses! Perusing the woman's treasured laptop out of boredom, he had mistakenly clicked on a pop-up advertisement. There he had seen the sunglasses and they had been fit for a king! It had taken no time at all to enter the woman's billing information and in a few short moments, the order had been processed.

Vegeta spread out the 'West City Chronicle' on the large dining room table and growled. Why had he let her make a fool of him? Imagine, a member of the Saiyan royal family actually searching for manual labor!

"Bah!"

The stupid things he would do to prove himself to her. He had never even had to run his own bathwater until he had moved with that… that woman!

"That was my first mistake," he grumbled, pulling out the classified section and staring at it intensely.

He combed through the 'help wanted' ads fairly quickly. There were plenty of jobs available, but none of them sounded appealing and they all sounded as though they paid miserably. Then suddenly, a posting caught his eye.

Want to take charge? Want to show a client just who's boss? Do you have leadership skills? Call our hotline now! Accepting both female and male applicants for our most dominant position yet!

There was a number listed and Vegeta circled the ad with a red marker. He squinted. It seemed too good to be true. Was it a joke? Either way, he was going to gloat about it to the woman.

Standing up from the table, Vegeta made his way into the kitchen where she had been moments earlier. She was not in the room. Instead, Kakarot was there, staring at his reflection in the kitchen sink.

"What are you doing here?" he asked rudely.

"Oh, hey Vegeta! I didn't hear you come in!" Goku grinned and followed Vegeta over to the island countertop, taking a seat next to him. "Bulma said she had something for me to give Chi-Chi."

Vegeta grunted and scooted away from the overly cheerful Saiyan.

"What's that?" asked the latter, pointing toward the newspaper Vegeta had placed in front of him.

"Haven't you seen a newspaper before?"

Goku edged his chair over a bit more, making a loud scraping sound against the tile. Vegeta's skin began to itch, the way it always did when someone infiltrated his personal space.

"What do you want?" Vegeta asked with gritted teeth.

Goku grinned again. "Calm down, Vegeta. I guess you're still looking for a job then, huh?"

Vegeta faced him sharply. "Who told you that?"

"Bulma," the taller Saiyan answered casually. He looked at the ad that Vegeta had circled and put a long finger on a bolded word. "What's a… dom… a dominatrix?"

Vegeta looked down and shrugged. "How should I know?"

goku blinked. "Well how can you be one if you don't know what it is?"

Glaring, Vegeta answered, "It requires someone who can take charge, Kakarot. I can handle that."

The sliding glass door that connected the Brief's kitchen with the back patio opened up and his son, Trunks and a miniature Goku, walked inside sweaty and panting. They headed toward the pantry and immediately began to inhale the contents inside. Vegeta hardly took notice of them as he was mentally gloating about having found a job.

"Guys!" exclaimed Goku, giving Vegeta a pat on the back. "Vegeta found a job!"

Why did everyone insist on giving him that same look of wild bewilderment?

The click-clack of heels alerted the men to the presence of his mate. Her hair was swept in a messy bun, the sunglasses adorning her face. Vegeta swallowed, struggling to remain calm. She handed Goku a slip of paper.

"Tell Chi-Chi I said thanks for the recipe. The cake came out wonderful!"

"That's what you think," Vegeta muttered, staring at his paper.

"I'll let her know," Goku said, standing next to Vegeta and grabbing his paper. "And it looks like you were wrong about old Vegeta here! He already found a job!"

Vegeta smirked at Bulma's apparent surprise.

"Really? Is that true, Vegeta?"

"Yeah!" Kakarot cut in before he could answer. "He's going to be a dominatrix!"

The Coke that Trunks had been chugging flew out of his mouth. He began to choke.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" inquired Vegeta.

"V-Vegeta," Bulma stuttered, but if she was trying not to laugh she was tremendously unsuccessful.

Vegeta was infuriated! He had taken the time to find a job, and now that idiot woman was laughing at him. And Trunks… he was still choking while Kakarot's son pounded him on the back.

"You're going to b-be a dominatrix?" Bulma asked through fits of laughter, her cheeks red.

"Isn't that what Kakarot said?" answered Vegeta with a glare. "Stop laughing, woman!"

"You c-c-can't be a d-dominatrix!" she replied, buckling over onto a counter and howling with mirth. "I'm afraid y-you won't w-want the job!"

"And just why not?" Vegeta asked angrily, holding the paper tightly in his hand. "I am highly qualified for the position!"

His son burst out laughing.

"That's it!" Bulma cried, holding a hand over her mouth. "Both of you guys, out!"

"What's a dominatrix?" whispered Goten as he was led from the kitchen.

Chi-Chi shined the last fork and placed it into an open drawer. Beside her Goku stood gazing out of the window above the sink. To an outsider it may have seemed as though he were helping, and perhaps he was. When Goku wasn't touching anything or crying about how sharp kitchen knives were, he was helping.

"Where's Goten?" she asked him, taking a quick glance out of the window.

Normally her youngest son made it in time for dinner, but he was late tonight. She had tried reaching him on his cell phone, but hadn't been able to get through.

"He's with Trunks, training," answered Goku wistfully, "I saw them there at Bulma's."

He paused and then his face lit up. "That reminds me! Did I tell you that Vegeta's looking for a job?"

The cup Chi-Chi had been scrubbing crashed back into the sink. Startled, she turned to Goku who hadn't seemed to notice that Hell had frozen over.

"I'm sorry, honey. What did you say?"

"Vegeta's getting a job," he repeated. "Yeah, he was looking in the paper. He was going to be a dominatrix but Bulma talked him out of it."

There was a silence.

"Well I think it's about time that man does something other than train," Chi-Chi said, trying not to think about what her husband had said. "Poor Bulma. That's a lot to put up with."

She plunged her wrinkly hands into the warm, soapy water again. She was halfway through washing a plate before it hit her.

"Hey!" she exclaimed loudly, turning to face her startled husband. "I put up with that!"

Chi-Chi tossed the fork back into the sink and stared at Goku. He was covered in dirt and grass stains and his boots had tracked mud over the floor. She blew a wisp of black hair from her face, trying to steady her breathing.

"Babe?"

"Listen here," Chi-Chi said, folding her arms across her chest and splattering the two of them with water in the process. "I don't think Bulma's too far off! The only thing that you do around here is eat, fight and watch television! You're almost worse than Goten!"

"But I can't help but eat! And I train so I can protect the Earth!"

Sheesh, the same excuse every time?

"You and Vegeta are exactly alike, Goku!" Chi-Chi stated, turning back to the dishwater. "If we hadn't finally paid off this house, we'd be sleeping in the streets! No thanks to you."

"Chi-Chi-"

"-It's settled then," the woman said with a 'harrumph' as she turned up her nose. "You'll be finding a job as well."

She sniffed the air.

"And go take a shower while you're at it!"

The television from the living room had been tuned in to the weather channel for the past hour and half.

"It's December 12th and the forecast is looking mighty cold for the rest of the week. Today we'll only see a high of thirty degrees with lows in the mid-twenties. Bundle up out there, folks!"

"Gohan, please make sure Pan is wearing everything I laid out."

"I'm already on it, honey!"

The oldest son of Goku was already in the process of tightening the pink, fuzzy hat on his daughter's head as she sat still on the couch. She smiled up at him with large, dark eyes. Gohan wasn't fooled by her pleasant demeanor. He had been down this road many times before.

"Now Panny," he said in a gentle voice, kneeling so that he was face-to-face with the preschooler, "don't take off any of these clothes. It's very cold outside today. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay, daddy."

Skeptical, Gohan grabbed a scarf and began to wrap it around her large puffy coat, trying to avoid her furry hood. It was a bit much, but he wasn't going to argue with Videl when it came to Pan's body temperature. He had been down that road before too.

"Are you guys ready?"

Videl stood in the archway, dressed in a black pantsuit and carrying a large purse. Her hair was in the process of growing out again and it reached just past her ears.

"Look at my little business woman!" Gohan exclaimed with a smile, standing up. "Somebody's excited about their first day of work!"

His wife arched an eyebrow and looked over at their daughter, who was struggling to move off of the sofa, her movements restricted by the giant snowsuit she had been forced into.

"Help me!" Pan cried, waving her arms. "Daddy help me!"

Gohan grabbed her before she rolled off of the couch. It was a funny sight, really, but it became less funny once they had all made it to the car. While Videl started the engine, Gohan clumsily attempted to strap Pan into her booster seat. By the time he had gotten the belt across the girl's lap and clasped, the car ride was over. After all, his mother lived right next door.

"This…. Is….choking me!" Pan yelled, grabbing her scarf and trying to take it off.

"Stop that!" scolded Videl. She turned to Gohan who was half in the backseat, trying to pry open the seatbelt fastener that had been lost in the folds of Pan's snowsuit.

"Um, honey? I'm going to be late."

With one final push, Gohan's thumb pressed the button and the seatbelt came flying off. Pan took advantage of her newfound freedom to leap from the car, tearing her hat from her head. He scrambled after her, waving to Videl who had already begun to back out of the driveway.

"Be good for daddy!" she called out as she disappeared.

By the time Gohan caught up to the child, it was obvious she had no intention of being good for anyone. His mother opened the front door to let them inside and gasped; Pan's snowsuit trailed from one leg revealing her dress and tights.

"NANA!"

Admitting defeat, Gohan let his mother scoop Pan into her arms and he followed them both inside. He felt happier upon entering; his parents' home always smelled like what he imagined Christmas would smell like if it had a scent and it was warm. There was a large Christmas tree near the window in the living room and boxes of ornaments on the floor. Obviously his mother had been trying to put up decorations.

"Why are you decorating by yourself?" he asked his mother who was snuggling Pan in his arms in the hall. "Where's dad?"

"Oh, he's in the kitchen. Don't worry," she said, her face turning hard. "He's a little busy right now but he'll be in to help soon enough. In the meantime… how would you like to help grandma sort all of these bulbs?"

"Yay!" shouted Pan, running over to the boxes of décor.

Gohan cocked his head toward the kitchen where he could smell something baking in the oven. He was sure his mother was making gingerbread cookies. He felt his stomach flutter. No one could make cookies like his mom!

When he entered the kitchen however, he was momentarily distracted. Both his father and his father's childhood friend, Krillin, were sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. They looked up when they saw him, but neither seemed too happy.

"What's got you two down?" asked Gohan, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on a chair. He sat next to his father and looked down at the paper.

"Your mother's making me look for a job," answered his father, pouting.

"Well that's not so bad," Gohan said with a smile. "Jobs are a good thing, you know."

"Yeah, well try finding a job that your dad can do," said Krillin, chewing the end of a pen. "All we've seen are ads for people with job experience already. You're lucky, Gohan."

"To be a college professor?" asked Gohan, thinking of his large classes and hectic schedule. "I'm just lucky we're all out on vacation soon. The work is draining, especially during finals."

He gave his dad a once-over, puzzled. Goku was wearing his orange gi and boots.

"Is mom letting you train today?" he asked.

Krillin let out a peal of laughter but Goku remained somber.

"I thought if I found something she might not mind it so much," replied his father. "I have to find a job by next week or no more free meals."

Gohan seriously doubted his mother would refuse to cook, and he said so.

"I heard Bulma's making Vegeta do the same thing. Maybe the two of you can work together?"

Krillin let out another loud laugh. "I don't know why all of your wives are going crazy," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm a lucky, lucky man."

If he had a time machine, he would go back to the day he had been born and destroy himself. He might even destroy Earth if he had enough time before he was blotted out of existence.

"Stop that, Kakarot!" he shouted.

The taller man, who had been twirling on the sidewalk trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue, looked hurt.

"Someone's grouchy this morning," he mumbled.

Vegeta scowled and continued along the busy sidewalk. Early morning West City with its flashing Christmas lights and buildings lightly dusted in snow would make a decent postcard. But if one more pedestrian bumped into him, Vegeta was going to make it a crime scene.

It was even worse that he was being accompanied by that giant idiot, but when Kakarot had suggested the two of them pair up to find a job, he hadn't been able to refuse. They had beaten Majin Buu together. Finding employment should not have been difficult.

"This is kind of fun," said Goku. "It smells like chocolate out here."

"Shut up," ordered Vegeta.

This was far from fun and now he was hungry.

"Wait a minute," Goku said, stopping in place and causing someone to run into the back of him. "They're hiring!"

Vegeta followed Kakarot's gaze to a brick building with a large glass window.

"Glamor Grooming," the latter read slowly. "Hmm. What do you think? Should we go in?"

Perhaps he could go back even further in time and stop his father from procreating at all. No mercy killing necessary.

"I'll lead the way!" exclaimed Son Goku, taking off in the direction of the store's front door.

His feet woefully followed behind and Vegeta began to wonder just how much of his pride he was willing to sacrifice in order to prove a point. He should have planted the glasses in his son's room.

A silver bell tinkled when the two men entered the building and warm air blasted in their face. A portly woman with curly red hair waved to them from behind a large, oak counter. She greeted them but Vegeta was too busy trying to discover why he heard barking.

This is obviously some sort of pet store, he surmised, glancing around at the aisles of pet supplies, but where are the animals?

Turning back toward Kakarot and the worker, Vegeta heard only the end of their conversation.

"Well you two obviously aren't from around here!" the woman said with a smile. "We don't need applications. We just do the interviews right here in the store! My husband Igor and I are the sole owners of the property!"

Vegeta noticed Kakarot trying to catch his eye and he frowned, shaking his head.

"Sure! We'll do the interview now if that's okay with you, Mrs. Katon," Goku said with a grin. "We're free!"

"Well," Mrs. Katon said with a look at the two of them, "what are your names?"

"Goku!"

His jaw trembling with a mighty effort, the prince forced out, "Vegeta."

"Okay, interview's over! Both of you can start tomorrow morning at seven!"

The store owner clapped her hands excitedly. "Pay's not too bad either."

"What exactly does that-," Vegeta began, but he was interrupted.

"-We'll take it," said Kakarot, shaking her hand. "Thank you very much."

Once the two had left the store, Goku turned to Vegeta.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, huh?"

Vegeta didn't answer. Instead he powered up and took off into the air, not caring that he had done so in sight of hundreds of onlookers. He should have been satisfied that he had been hired, but he wasn't.

He wasn't sure how and he damn sure wasn't sure when, but he was going to win. And that blasted woman was going to pay.

A/N: So the first chapter is a little short, but only because I want to get some feedback. If you've been following 'Eligible Marchioness' [my B/V baby as of now] then what I really want I guess, is for you to get used to a different Vegeta. Having been a fan of GT (haters be hatin'), it was really evident that he had undergone a huge transformation in character that allowed him to have/want relationships with his "friends". Don't worry, there's a lot of old Vegeta in here. If any of these guys start to sound a little OOC, don't be afraid to let me know. I appreciate your thoughts. Next chapter up REALLY soon because I finished this a long time ago and I'm just editing! Thanks!