Drabbles and short stories about Vegeta, Bulma and their family. Just because I can never commit myself to writing something multi-chaptered. May consider something AU in the future, but who knows. And yes, I apologize for the lame pun in the title name, hur hur hur. Let me know if you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Do we still have to do disclaimers?
When Bulma came home from the salon that afternoon, glowing in happiness because of her new hair-do, Vegeta felt completely indifferent about it. After all, it was just hair.
"It is not just hair!" She objected in exasperation. "It's style! Plus, it'll be great for the hot weather coming up, and it'll be way easier to get work done around the lab and garage!"
Vegeta watched his wife admire herself in the foyer mirror. She was humming an annoying tune whilst combing through her new short locks with her fingertips. As she gave her own reflection a few flirty winks and haughty compliments about how fabulous she was, he thought to himself again: it was just hair. She then went on about how she didn't need his opinion anyway since she had apparently "rocked the do" back in the day and was just as hot as she was ten years ago, and a bunch of other nonsense that might as well have been a foreign language to him considering how much he was paying attention.
Frankly, it reminded him slightly of the ridiculous bowl-cut that Kakarot's spawn had during their time on Namek, so he left for the gravity room before she could bitch about his lack of response.
But later that night, as he traced the delicious curve of her spine with his nose and mouth, he marveled at the ease of access to her neck and jaw. He loved that he could kiss her easier from behind, and she that could turn her neck to meet his lips without having to swipe her hair out of the way. She couldn't use her locks to muffle her moans as he pleasured her, nor could she veil her expressions of utter ecstasy under long bangs. He couldn't help but think that it wasn't just hair, but it was marvelous and sexy and beautiful, just like the rest of his wife.
And if she wanted to call it style, he wasn't going to argue.