Author's Note: Gosh, it's been a long while since i've posted anything. My account must feel so lonely, haha. But I've been in the process of writing some large-scale projects, so look out for those one day. Meanwhile, I have some DBZ fanfiction ideas in mind that don't seem to want to go away. Thus, this fic was born. It's my first time writing a DBZ fanfic, so forgive me if anyone seems OOC. The intention was just for giggles, anyway, so I think even if someone's OOC, it's for the best? I don't know, I'll let you be the judge. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Dragon Ball world. D: But I do thank Toriyama-sama for allowing us to play with his toys...Especially Vegeta.

Pretty in Pink

Vegeta wasn't entirely sure how he ended up in this exact predicament. The cause seemed to be drowned out by the foreign emotions now coursing through him, emotions he wasn't often aware he had. But he had them, just as every other being in the universe. And it left him stiff like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

Saiyans should never falter.

Yet he did.

The moment she walked through that door, the gate of his demise, he could feel the great Saiyan pride he kept locked inside of him being crushed under the weight of sheer horror, leaving him breathless. The look she gave him, the one that turned from confusion to shock to pure amusement, hit him harder than any punch possible could, even by Kakarrot.

He glared, trying to maintain some sense of masculinity in his current state.

Somehow, this didn't faze the woman.

"Why, Vegeta," Bulma gushed in sweet voice much like her mother's, "I love what you did to your hair."

The prince growled, "Keep quiet, woman."

"No, no, really. I think the pink bows compliment the lace headpiece quite nicely." The blue-haired beauty sauntered towards her mate and reached out to touch one of the many bows tousled in his hair.

Vegeta swatted her arm away, perhaps a bit harder than needed. "Don't touch me," he hissed darkly, the unwilling blush on his face growing brighter with his embarrassment.

"Oh?" she questioned, a smile still on her face. "I guess there's only room for one hairdresser in your life. How tragic!"

Vegeta snarled at his mate, who placed a hand over her heart in mock hurt. He wasn't in the mood to play her games...

"Don't be like that, Vegeta," Bumla pouted. "It's only me. And I promise not to tell a soul!"

"Humph, for your sake, you'd better not, Woman."

"Yeah, yeah," she sung, flicking her wrist in a dismissive manner. It was then he knew she wouldn't be keeping this secret. Suddenly, she stopped to blink. "Your shawl…isn't that mine?"

"...Yes..." the words tasted bitter on his tongue, enough to almost make him gag.

"How'd she get you into that?"

Vegeta grew silent.

How did he wind up dressed in this ridiculously hideous thing? It was a good question; maybe too good for the Prince to answer. He could only remember looking into those eyes, so big, blue, and full of innocence. At that moment he, the great Saiyan Prince, proud fighter, was utterly at the mercy of a single girl, barely the age of five. She had him under her spell with no intention of letting him go.

And because of that, he now sat in a small chair, surrounded by stuffed animals, a fake tea set, and pink walls.

It was all by request, her request.

And it made him sick that he had succumbed.

Bulma watched her mate's form shake with emotion as each moment passed and sighed. "You could have said no, you know…" she spoke softly.

Vegeta motioned to retaliate just as a small voice rang in the air.

"Mommy!" Bra dashed in to the room, immediately snuggling into the crook of her mother's neck the moment the woman lifted her into her arms. Giggling, she smiled. "Did you see Daddy's hair? Did you? Isn't he pretty?" she exclaimed with childish glee.

Bulma grinned and nodded. "It's beautiful, baby. In fact, I think he should wear it more often." The wink she sent her mate was only rewarded with a more intense glare. "Where were you anyway?"

"I went to get something!"

Bulma blinked. "Oh? What's that? More tea?"

"Nope!"

"Cookies?"

Bra shook her head. "Nu-uh!"

"…Uh…more pretty bows for Daddy's hair?" She grinned at her mate.

"No," the child giggled.

"Then what?"

"Brother, come look at Daddy!"

A twitch then his heart stopped. The prince's stomach churned like spoiled milk as he watched Trunks enter into the room, annoyed and huffing, another victim of the girl's pleading gaze. His blue eyes drew forward, and the moment he saw his father, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Vegeta could see it, the undeniable amusement just below the look of shock on his son's face. No words came from Trunks' mouth. The boy was silenced by his fearful respect for his father. And yet somehow, the stillness in the room weighed more heavily on Vegeta than the mocking laugh he knew his son was having within himself. Surely this would a day he would never live down.

He really should learn to tell Bra no…

Author's Note: I'm sure something similar has already been done, but I still couldn't help myself. Poor Veggie, haha. Bra really does influence him a lot, though. D: It's cute. x3
I have more in store, around three more fanfics to work on, so look out for those next! Reviews are loved! Thank you for taking your time to read this. :D