Fire burned, dancing and writhing against the darkness of the night. Blue eyes reflected the hot glow of the flames with vague disinterest. The scent of cooking flesh filled the night air, and the sound of low growling resounded as several large figures drew ever closer to a beautiful young woman. The young beauty screamed as one of the looming figures leapt into the air, sinking sharp teeth into heated flesh with brutal savagery, tearing it away from… a stick.

"Trunks Briefs, I'm going to kill you! That was my hotdog." Whined a very dissatisfied Bra, shaking her now hotdog-less stick at him in mock threat.

Shoving the hotdog into his mouth with his index finger, he smirked triumphantly before giving Bra a very pathetic attempt to look apologetic. "I couldn't help myself. I was so hungry, and no one cooks a hotdog nearly as well as you do."

Bra's ire faded into vague pride at her brother's compliments regarding her culinary skills. She knew he said it mostly to appease her anger, but she had Saiyan pride and Bulma's blood. A compliment about being best at something would undoubtedly please her greatly. Sighing with loving frustration, she reached to the cooler beside her and harpooned another hotdog to roast above the small bonfire. Although, she now had to compete for space to cook considering everyone else had since seated themselves around the fire.

It had been Bulma's idea to make a sort of camp-out in the Capsule Corp backyard. Everyone was invited, though some didn't show. Krillen had wanted longingly to come, but had fatherly duties to fulfill, and afterward, a few husbandly duties as well. Piccolo had opted not to come, deciding that his time was better spent elsewhere. The entire Son family showed, much to Vegeta's irritation, right down to little Pan. He would have been one to skip on the little get-together if it weren't for two nagging problems. First, he lived at Capsule Corp. and wouldn't be forced from his own home by 'that damn Kakkorot'. Second, Bulma would scream in his ear until he was deaf if he didn't come. He really wasn't given much of a choice, especially when Bulma recruited Bra's help in sweet talking him into it. His daughter could almost convince him to dress up in a pink tutu, ribbons and all, if she set her mind to it. Key word: almost.

The gathered circle of family and friends collectively roasted their respective hotdogs or marshmallows over the licking flames. Talk was excited, friendly, but quiet due to the increasingly late hour. Most everyone had a stick with one or two points. Goku, on the other hand, had apparently ripped an entire branch off a tree, unabashedly toasting uncountable edibles. Most everyone had a hearty chuckle when he had insisted on using that particular 'stick' rather than the one Bulma offered. The look of repressed insult on her face had caused even Vegeta a fleeting, mirthful grin.

With regards to Vegeta, even he was roasting a marshmallow over the fire, though he looked quite forced. He sat stiffly, holding the white puff over the licking flames until it burned away to naught but a lump of carbon. One that understood him well enough knew he did it only to keep Bulma from lecturing him on not participating in family matters. An exasperated sign gained his attention as Bra gave him a loving look of disapproval.

"Daddy, you burned your marshmallow!" She said, gnawing on her roasted hotdog as she scooted closer to her father. "Don't you know how to cook them properly? They're supposed to be golden brown." Snatching the stick from his hand, she shoved a new mallow on the end, and pressed it against the palm of his left hand.

Through all of this, Vegeta hadn't enough time to reprimand her for degrading him by implying he should know how to cook a fluffy puff of sugar, and that there was something wrong with him for not doing it properly. He was the prince of a once-living planet, not some marshmallow cooking imbecile. Yet, he couldn't find himself having the will to reprimand her, either- not when she looked so much like her mother. As much as that woman tried on his patience, he honestly couldn't see himself doing anything but love her. Although, he had trouble admitting that to himself, let alone anyone else. Bra had an even stronger hold on his heart. The way she loved him bordered unconditional. She always looked at him with unwavering love and adoration shining in her eyes. That's all it took to disarm him against anything remotely harsh he may ever say to her. She was a daddy's girl, and he liked it that way.

With a slight grin, he watched his little girl as she took his hands and helped him properly cook the mallow. What could he say... this planet was making him soft. Bulma cooed with delight as Bra pulled the mallow from the fire, perfectly golden brown.

"Ooh, Vegeta. That would make a wonderful s'more!" She beamed, giving him a look. It was the look that said she wanted something. With a rueful smirk, he pulled the tiny treat from the tip of the stick and waved it temptingly in front of his wife's face.

"What would you give me for such a perfectly cooked little marshmallow, woman?" He asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. Bulma simply gave him a different sort of look.

Ooooh… he recognized that look! The look she currently gave was the one that meant he'd be doing more in their bed than sleeping. Extremely satisfied about his payment for the little delectable, he handed it over to an enthralled Bulma. With an amused shake of his head, he watched as she made a sugary sandwich type of treat with no small amount of anticipation. By Kami, that woman was insatiable when it came to sweets foods, and himself, of course. Perhaps a blending of the two would be in order.

Bra resisted the urge to giggle as she saw her mother give her father the 'me love you long time' look, as she so humorously dubbed it. Trunks just looked somewhat sickened. He shook his head as he swore to himself people of that age just shouldn't be doing that. Repressing a shudder he returned to his previous conversation with Gohan. It wasn't often he got the chance to have a relaxed conversation with Gohan since Gohan always seemed to be working. Not that he was a slouch when it came to work, either, but Trunks didn't have a family to tend to like Gohan did. Hell, he didn't even have a girlfriend to distract him. Not that he minded. He could certainly do without another woman fawning over him, drooling over him, and most likely stalking him. Being strong, handsome, and rich really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Turning his attention, he watched as Goten tried to appease Chi-Chi's demands to know about his most recent love interest. Trunks found himself especially happy for his bachelor status.

Gohan also pitied his younger brother's pitiable position. He remembered the way his mother wheedled and pried him about Videl. Oh, he could have died of sheer embarrassment with some of the things his mother pulled! He would have cursed her and her irrefutable desire to hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet, but he couldn't think of a single curse against his mother's meddling whenever he looked at his wife and child. They were the greatest gift a man could receive. Following the swell of pride he felt as he watched Videl teach Pan the best way to cook over a campfire, he slid his arm around her waist to give her a loving squeeze. Responding by laying her head on his shoulder, they both watched as Pan's near perfect mallow combusted into flames, much to Pan's noisy displeasure.

Laughing gently, Videl slid another mallow onto Pan's stick and advised her to try again. The night was perfect. The weather was pleasingly cool against the heat of the firelight, the sky was cloudless, the stars shone brightly, and everyone was in a contented mood. Nothing short of a miracle or natural disaster could ruin this perfect night. Unfortunately, a little of both were about to occur.

"Oh look!" Pan exclaimed, pointing to the sky. "A shooting star! See it?" She asked, gesturing to her parents to follow the point of her finger.

"So it is…" Videl laughed gently. "Hurry and make a wish before someone else does and takes all the magic." She joked.

Looking around to the group around her, she made up her mind about her wish. "I wish for-"

"You're not supposed to tell anyone, Pan." Videl explained. "It ruins the wish."

Pan made an expression of sudden understanding before closing her eyes in an excited squint. After a moment passed, she opened her eyes and beamed. "I'm done."

Laughing across the fire, Bra offered a charming, but lopsided grin. "Did you wish for a new pair of shoes for me, Panny?" She teased.

"Nope. I can't tell." Pan said, looking quite pleased with herself.

"Oh look, another one." Bulma said, pointing to the same area in the sky.

Sure enough, there was another shooting star. With laughter in her eyes and voice, Bra chirped up again. "Quick, mom! Wish for a new pair of shoes for me!"

A few amused chuckles were heard as Vegeta's mouth quirked. "I think you'd have better luck wishing on your mother for a new pair of shoes than any star."

The amused chuckles increased as Bra giggled. "Oh, daddy, where's the fun in that?"

"There's another." "And another." Voices chirped up as all eyes turned skyward.

"Must be a meteor shower." Bulma declared as increasing numbers of meteors lit the sky in streaking light.

Several 'ooh's and 'aah's could be heard throughout the group as they watched the shower increase in intensity until the sky was awash with blazing light. For all observers, the sight was rare and beautiful one- all observer but one. That observer could sense a thought pattern within the rain of space debris, and that person was none other than the guardian of Earth, Dende.

"Piccolo, I hate to bother you, but have you noticed the meteor shower just now?"Asked Dende's mature, soft telepathic voice.

"Yes." Piccolo's responded, sounding someone irritated. "What of it?"

"I sensed a thought pattern from somewhere within it. I couldn't sense any ki, though. Do you think I should alert the others?"

Piccolo knew that was Dende's polite way of asking him to looking into it. He paused for a moment before responding."I'll check it out."

"Let me know if you find anything." Dende responded with gentle worry.

Though Piccolo gave him no answer, he knew Piccolo would alert him if anything was out of place. Despite Piccolo's somber, harsh demeanor, he was always reliable. Dende sincerely hoped he had been mistaken or overreacting to the situation. Earth was so peaceful since the death of Cell, and he intended to help keep it that way. Piccolo shared that sentiment.

With a grunt, Piccolo unfolded himself from his meditation. Facing the residual glow in the sky, he acknowledged the slowing meteor shower Dende had spoken of. Diminishing his ki greatly and squaring his shoulders, he prepared himself for anything as he took to the sky.

ʚ ʚ*ɞ ɞ