Author's Notes: Just a little one-shot based on a story my mom loves to tell about me when I was a little kid. My mom thinks Vegeta is like my dad(short, temperamental, not exactly warm-and-cuddly, sarcastic, ect. Ect.) and so I figured I'd convert a story of my life to a story of the Brief family. Don't judge me. I get inspiration from whatever. I'm just glad I got an idea for once in my sad little life that wasn't sparked by school literature.
"Oh, no," Bulma stared out the window of the Son's house with a frown at the blizzard commencing outside. She had thought for sure they'd have an hour before the snow began to fall, let alone pile down on top of them. "There's no way we can stay any longer. We better get going, guys."
"Damn," Vegeta said at her side in a sarcastic 'well, darn' fashion even though he was already packing up all of their things. Bulma and Trunks began saying farewell to the Sons with hugs and ending conversations while Vegeta made sure they could just pick up their things and leave as soon as humanly(and Saiyanly) possible.
Little five year old Bra walked over to her father and lifted her arms up. "Carry me!" she pleaded.
The prince stared down at his daughter with a scowl, "You have two very capable legs. You can walk."
"Noooo, not in these shoes!" Bra exclaimed.
Vegeta's brow furrowed and his eyes lowered to look at his daughter's outfit. She was wearing white faux-fur coat that covered a little pink dress that flowed out in a poof that was reminiscent of all the princesses in Bra's earthly fairytale books. The dress was normal, not the problem at all for now. He looked down at her little white stockings and then took in the sight of two pairs of shiny dress shoes. They were the generic little girl black strapped-in shoes. Generic. Which meant easily replaceable. So, Bra should have been quite able to walk outside in these shoes, right? Not quite.
"What's wrong with your shoes? Are they broken? Are they the wrong size? Explain."
Bra puffed her little chest out in a manner that reminded any onlookers of her father, "They're formal!"
"Do you even know what the word 'formal' means?" Vegeta rolled his eyes.
"It means 'Not for walking outside in the snow'," Bra retorted in her prideful little voice.
The Saiyan prince stared at her, "Go outside," he pointed at the door.
"No," Bra stuck her tongue out at him.
"Bra, now you listen to me right now," by now, the rest of the Brief family and the Son family had turned to watch the bickering between the five year old and the adult with whom she shared a stubborn mentality with, "You are to go outside, regardless of your type of shoes, and walk the very short distance from the door to the car." Vegeta's voice was firm and he was bent down slightly to maintain eye contact with his stubborn daughter.
"It'll ruin their shiiiine!" Bra whimpered.
"How do you even know? You're barely old enough to talk!" Vegeta exasperated, standing up to his full height as he threw his hands in the air. Bra didn't move from her spot though so Vegeta picked her up by the back of her dress to force her outside.
The little girl began shrieking so Vegeta set her down. She immediately quieted and looked up at him with an expression that read 'We need to make a compromise'.
Bulma crossed her arms at Trunks's side and she leaned against the wall in the hallway as she decided to see if Vegeta would be able to handle the little girl.
Vegeta let his body weight rest on one leg while pulling the other leg up so his knee was against the wall to create a makeshift table. He stayed gracefully balanced and stable as he set the bag(containing all of Bra's things inside) on his leg and started digging through it. His lips were moving as he cursed under his breath and he finally pulled out another tiny pair of shoes. They were yellow tennis shoes so they would do just fine for getting Bra outside and through the very short distance of, not-even, thirty feet.
Bra stared at him like he had to be kidding, cocked out her tiny hip and scowled, "Groooooss!"
"How so!" Vegeta exclaimed angrily.
"They don't match my dress," Bra curtseyed as though Vegeta wasn't already aware of her outfit.
"Oh, you have to be kidding," Vegeta stared at the little girl.
"She seems pretty serious to me, Vegeta," Goku said unnecessarily, giggling at the only fight that Vegeta couldn't seem to overcome, or even gain an advantage in, for even a second.
"The shoes are yellow. Yellow matches pink," the prince began to argue with Bra, ignoring Goku thoroughly in a manner that only came to him because he had been doing it to the younger full-blooded Saiyan for years.
"Nuhuh," was Bra's simple response.
"I would like some basis for that argument," Vegeta ordered.
"Nuhuh."
"Excuse me?"
She walked up to him, stepping on top of his feet before staring up at him. Her tiny hands grasped his pants in tight fists and she said again, "Nuh-uh."
"That's hardly a good reason," Vegeta scowled at her.
"Those shoes hardly match my dress," Bra AH-HA'd back at him.
The prince stared down at her for a long time. The only thing filling the silence were the giggles of the on-lookers.
"I hate to break up this fight, because I'd love to see who's going to win, but we need to go before the storm gets us stuck here," Trunks said with a smile on his lips.
Bra and Vegeta didn't move their eyes away from the others. It was a stare-down for the ages. Princess against her should-have-been King.
"Yellow matches your dress," Vegeta repeated to Bra firmly.
"Nuhuh!" Bra cried out finally before starting to whack furiously at her father's legs, "No, it doesn't! Nuhuh nuhuh nuhuuuuuuh!" and she began to cry.
"Oh, forget it," Vegeta grumbled and he picked her up, "I'll carry you."
Bra's cries stopped immediately and she cuddled into her father's chest, "Okay!"
"Come on," Vegeta snapped over his shoulder at the rest of his family and he walked out of the Son's house with his daughter and her things in tow.
Bulma grinned and looked at Chi-Chi one last time, "And I thought I had him snowed," she giggled before following Trunks outside into the snow.