A/N: I just want to say thanks for the great feed back from the first chapter! I only wanted it to be a oneshot but some of you asked for more sooooo... here it is!

(btw, sadly my computer won't open my file with my 130 Days fic in it :( so the next chapter may take longer then expected)

(Oh! And did I mention that I'm over 15,000 hits now? You guys are amazing, I seriously love you all!) Enjoy!

"Mama! Mama! I can't find them!"

Poking her blue head round the door of her daughter's room, Bulma raised an eyebrow at the pair of legs protruding out from under the little girl's bed. "Can't find what, darling?"

"My blue shorts!" thump! "Oww, my head!"

She couldn't help but chuckle as she ambled over. The small pair of legs remained still and silent as she sat down on the bed, sinking into its childhood softness and Bulma eventually came to the conclusion her daughter didn't want to come out. Gently grabbing the girl's ankles and sliding her out, she frowned at the forlorn look upon the child's face, immediately wiping the maternal smile off of her own.

Setting Bra into her lap, the mother ran her fingers through the matching blue locks until she found the tiny bump forming at the back of her head. She kissed it before nuzzling her nose between her pigtails.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

Bra sniffed as she curled her fist into her mama's shirt. "I wanted to wear my blue shorts today because they're more comfortable to train in. Papa said I do better in those."

Bulma grimaced. Yes, her daughter did like to train in those shorts. So much so that she had worn them everyday for the past four days. Last night, she had crept into Bra's room when she was asleep to whisk the filthy things away and wash them before the next day came.

But they weren't dry yet.

"Well, what time did you agree to meet with your father?"

Bra leant backwards to look at the flowery clock on her bedside table; them slammed back to Bulma with a huff. "When the little hand points at eight and the big hand points at twelve."

That gave them six minutes. There was no way to make her shorts dry faster.

"Tell you what," she whispered. "How about you wear your pink shorts today and I'll make sure you have something really special to wear tomorrow?"

Bra's interest was caught momentarily but that didn't last long. "Mama, I can't wear a pretty dress when I go training."

The feminist side came out in Bulma. "And why not? Who says you have to train in shorts or trousers?" she was only teasing though.

"Yeah, but you never see Papa or Trunks wear dresses when they train!"

Bulma was close to losing it; the mental image of her husband and son in pink fairy costumes was hilarious.

"It's not funny, Mama! It's not!"

Bulma's teeth bit down on her lip to stop herself. If somebody tells you it's not funny, then they'll just get angrier if you laugh in their face. Especially a little six-year-old girl. "No, it's not sweetheart." Giving her a kiss, the woman said goodbye and left for work.

Pulling a face, Bra looked back at her pink shorts. Although she liked the colour, it wasn't her favourite. That was defiantly blue or red but neither went with pink. Giving up, she clumsily pulled on a white t-shirt and the shorts, hoping the two went together. At least it was comfy. Papa said comfort and flexibility was key in battle. Whatever flexibility meant.

Father and son were sparing in one of the gravity rooms. So far, Vegeta was winning. Trunks may have surpassed his father in strength and certainly had youth on his side, but in tactics and skill alone, Vegeta came out tops. He had years of experience in pinpointing weaknesses in his enemies and using them to his advantage. And of course he knew his son very well.

After letting go of Trunks in his second chokehold position, Vegeta jumped back and planted his hands on his hips. "Come on, boy. I know you can do much better than that!"

"Aw, Dad! Cut me some slack here, I'm dying!" Trunks whined as he cradled his pounding head.

"Hmph. Where's your fight, your fire?" Vegeta chuckled when the look on his sons face went from pained to annoyance at his father obvious goading. "I bet you've flushed it all away, along with your puke, haven't you?"

The boy's reaction wasn't what he'd hoped for. Trunks turned a nasty shade of green before dashing out of the gravity simulator in a blur of white and purple, nearly knocking over his little sister as she waited patiently by the door.

"Hey! Trunks, watch out!" she screamed in his direction but he probably didn't hear her. "Papa, what's wrong with him?"

As Vegeta leant out of the door, he also looked in the direction the nineteen year old had fled. "He's over estimated his ability to safely consume alcohol. In other words," he added as he stepped out completely, "he's never been so hungover in all his life."

Father and daughter echoed a little "moron" together when Bra heard a loud clank. Spinning round, she saw Vegeta locking the door to the GR. "We're not going to train in there today?"

"No."

"Please?" she grabbed one of his massive hands with both of her small ones. "I've never been in there before!"

"There's a good reason for that. You've only been learning for five days whereas I've been using it for twenty years. You're simply not ready and you will not be permitted to use the machine until you are."

She lowered her head and let go of his hand, tempted to just stomp in the other direction. She stopped when her father heavy hand rested atop her head. Vegeta could see the hurt glistening in her big eyes and reminded himself that, despite her Saiyan genes and royal blood, she was still a six-year-old half human girl.

"If you want to train in there so badly in the future then I suggest you make yourself ready; lesson begins in fifteen seconds." With that, he became a blur as he sped towards the garden with Bra no less than three feet away from him.

When it came to teaching children, most people would choose to start small and work their way up. Vegeta, however, had chosen to start big and work their way even higher. He had done it with Trunks as he was doing so with Bra; but where Trunks had excelled in strength, he was held back by his cocky attitude and lack of concentration. Bra may not have been as naturally strong as her brother but her sheer determination to do her best rivalled that of her parents. Both of them.

And unlike Trunks, Bra had a hobby in people watching. At a glance, she just knew the basic traits of those around her and who was too stupid to even bother getting to know, and when her father mentioned what signs of weakness to seek in an enemy, the girl was all ears. She listened to father's words of wisdom in deciphering other people as if in a trance and absorbed it all like a sponge.

Vegeta already knew would who would make the better tactician out of his children, strength forgotten.

"…Furthermore, if blood flow has been reduced, to your arm as an example, resist the urge to ignore it. As quickly as possible you must restore the flow of blood in order to prevent stiffness and become better prepared to fight." He rotated his shoulder to demonstrate how to do so.

"But won't that show your opponent that you've got a bad arm?"

"You'd have a lot worse than a bad arm if you didn't, trust me," Vegeta countered. "Just be quick about it, and don't make them think it affects you."

"Oh, okay," Bra nodded before copying her father's demonstration. She had fallen out of the habit of playing copy-cat a couple of days ago when she suddenly realised that it wasn't necessary. Besides, her father seemed happier when she didn't.

"In some cases, it may prove useful to do so anyway, whether or not you need to. Mock weakness can lull an opponent into a false sense of security and they will aim for that spot in particular. So when they strike-"

"You'll be ready for it?"

A smug chuckle escaped him. "Fast learner, aren't you?" Bra beamed back.

The two talked tactics for a while longer before running through some basic moves until lunch. But instead of jumping straight back into training, Bulma insisted the girl have a shower. Vegeta groaned when he found out why.

"No. I see no reason why I have to come."

"But Vegeta, Chi-Chi's been so lonely since Goku left!"

He started to leave when she stepped in front of him. "But honey, it's just for one afternoon-"

"No."

"Gohan will be there, you two could always spar, sweetheart-"

"That fool lost his edge long ago." He tried once again to step around her when she wrapped her slender arms around his neck.

"But Veggie, I can make it worth your while…"

He paused his shrug at the look in her blue eyes. He saw the promise glistening within them. If he looked deeper, he could see that she was offering this not only as a bribe, but because she wanted him as well.

But he was not about to be whipped around by her.

"Thanks for the offer," his husky voice replied. He ran his hand up her arm and she assumed he had fallen for the usual trick until his fingers pulled her arms away. "But I'm not falling for it. Unlike you, I'm not desperate." He smiled evilly as he watched her expression changed from lusty to shock to rage. Bulma was just gulping in a mass amount of air when Bra magically popped up next to them.

"Not desperate for what?"

Her parents looked down at her smile with a blank expression. Simultaneously they thought, Why does she always catch the wrong part of the conversation?

When she got no immediately reply, Bra said, "What is mama desperate for, papa?"

Vegeta could only stare blankly at her with his mouth moving silently. His wife smiled to herself and took her chance.

"For your father to come with us this afternoon!" she cried, scooping the little one in her arms. "But you know him, he's just being stubborn, isn't he, Bra? No matter how many time I ask nicely, Mr Grumpy just won't budge."

"Shall I ask him?"

Oh no, he thought, they always gang up on me. Every time they think they can win me over! Well this time they won't! All I have to do is get past the third "no".

Bra squirmed her way to the ground. All young girls are little but Bra was small in comparison to most. When she tries her best to look small she turned practically tiny, particularly as she gazed adoringly at the prince.

"Please?"

Vegeta, although a short one himself, towered over her with his tall hair blocking out the light and gave the same answer as to her mother. "No."

"Please?" she tried again, opening pulling her hands together. "Papa?"

"I said no. Are the both of you deaf? Or just stupid?"

"Ehem," Bulma interrupted. Her usually cool eyes had hardened into icy steel at his insult. "Just who are you calling stupid, mister?"

"The fact that you heard that eliminates the first option."

"Yes, and guess who else heard it?"

His dark eyes fell to Bra who had stood back from him with her shoulders slumped. She wasn't crying- yet, but her shock would soon give way to her sadness and sudden flow of tears.

"Bra honey," Bulma started to rub the top of her daughters head. "I'm sure he didn't mean it. It's okay, we'll be fine, just the two of us, yeah? We'll go and see Pan ourselves," she ended with a death glare aimed right at him.

Vegeta didn't see it. He was trying to look away, to hide behind his severely crumbled walls but it was only half hearted. Bulma's soothing words fell heavy on his ears but had no effect on Bra.

Frowning, Vegeta walked towards the door, which Bulma had been eager to block earlier but had since given up, and paused to glare at her. "If you don't leave now, than you will be late-"

"Fine," she hissed, "we were leaving anyway. Come one, Bra-"

"-But I can still fly faster than your craft. I will catch up with you after I've cleaned myself up."

She stopped suddenly before flashing him a brilliant smile, one that completely erased the past minute. By her side, Bra did the same, mother and daughter looking like a pair of Russian dolls.

It wasn't Bulma's frosty glare. It wasn't Bra's puppy dog eyes, or her pleads, or even the threat of tears. In the end, it was the blank nod of her little head that did it.

"This damn planets making me soft," he grumbled as he got ready for his shower.

Vegeta was right about being faster than Bulma. In fact he arrived about five minutes before she did, much to her chagrin, not that it lasted (in fact her mind was briefly sketching up plans for her fastest vehicle yet). As expected though, he didn't approach anyone, choosing instead to sit in the shade of the emerald trees. The mountains and meadows surrounding the Son's home was always a hit place to meet in the summer but for once the atmosphere was rather melancholy. There was a big void where Goku should have been, sitting besides his wife and the picnic. Everybody tried their best to smile but the briefest mention of the wandering fighter would pull the mood back down. And it seemed that anything could set Chichi off today.

As much as he didn't care about his absent ex-rival, Vegeta had the decency to keep quiet and 'civil', as Bulma called it. It gave him a chance to done of the things he was best at- brooding. Sitting away from the others with no one to keep him company other than his own mind- most of the time that was exactly how he liked it.

It wasn't like there was anything else to do anyway. He had sparred for a while with the Namek, a fight lost its excitement if drawn out for too long. He was eager to spar with Gohan again, but juggling his erratic mother and being with his young daughter left the prince bored with waiting. And the humans- he wasn't even going to bother. Even his own son had scurried off somewhere in the forests in search for a particular lizard, since Goten was still as enthusiastic about them as when he was a boy.

This was one of the few times he actually missed that oaf. As far as everyone was concerned, the sooner he returned the better-

"That's not fair Pan! You're meant to be my friend!"

Vegeta's eyes flew open when Bra whined. Siting away from everyone else with a few toys flung around them, the youngsters were sitting opposite each other, one scowling, and the other in shock. Pan tightened her grasp around the blue pencil she was holding.

"I don't care! I don't want to play, I don't want to have fun, I don't want anybody!" Pan screamed. "I just want my grandpa back!" Turning heel, the girl stormed a short distance away and plonked herself on the grass.

His dark eyes flashed immediately to Bulma who was already halfway to their daughter with Videl and Chi-Chi rushing to Pan. Gohan stopped by Bulma's side as she swept the tot into her arms and comforted her with gentle sways. From his spot by the trees, Vegeta could hear Gohan's apology.

The younger man sighed. "I guess she just doesn't to be cheered up. She really misses him. We saw him every day since she was a baby and suddenly, he's not here anymore." Shaking his head, he bent down to peak at Bra's teary face. "I'm sorry Bra. I'm sorry Bulma. I promise I'll talk to her-"

Pan exploded at her mother, "NO! I don't want to say sorry!"

"When she's in a better mood," he added.

Bulma shook her head. "What else can we expect from her? She has every right to be upset. Not necessarily to shout at my daughter but still… I apologise for persuading Bra to cheer her up. I even suggested bringing her crayons," she said nodding to the blanket beneath them.

As Gohan knelt to pack away the pencils, Bulma glanced to her husband. She hadn't expected him to exactly run over and comfort their five year old, but she was relieved to see the capsule containing their vehicle already in his hand. With a nod of her head, he tossed it aside as stood ready by the craft, waiting for his wife to say her brief goodbyes, Bra still clinging to her.

"Vegeta?"

He turned to see that Gohan had come to him after seeing Bulma. In his hands were a yellow box full of pencils, and a few pieces of paper.

"I thought I'd better give these to you seeing as Bulma's, you know, got her hands full," he ended awkwardly.

The pureblood stared at him, his gaze never leaving Gohan's as he took the from the half breed's hands. "If Bulma's not saying it, then I will. Nobody is to talk to my family like that. See to it that the child apologises. Soon," he added.

Gohan nodded determinately. As much as he would like to stand up to Pan's sake, he knew Vegeta was only doing the same with Bra. "She will."

Finally, the Prince broke his gaze and turned, the pencils rattling he was dumped them in the back seat. A flash of blue and pink however caught his eye. Holding up the papers, he looked at the picture Bra had drawn of herself and their mother. Bother were wearing identical pink gowns and great time had been taken to sketch patterns on the top. They looked very happy as the held hands with each other. The next piece had been a picture of Trunks fighting (and by the looks of it, winning) again Goten, both smiling. Around them, Pan and Maron were waving at the artist.

Vegeta blinked. For a five year old, she was quite good at drawing. The auras around the boys were tinted with several shades of gold and blue and you could see every streak in Maron's blonde pigtails.

He flipped to the last piece, expecting another vibrant picture full of smiles. On the page, she had drawn only him, in a tall and proud pose. Thankfully, he wasn't wearing a giddy grin like the others, but he was smiling none the less. Judging by the faint pencil marks, she had tried her best to give him the perfect Vegeta smile, and she had done so with flying colours. He guess she knew him better than he thought.

But, unlike the others, he wasn't coloured in, apart from half of his shirt in a deep, almost navy, blue. She hadn't finished it yet, obviously. He frowned at the thought of her happy sketching's disrupted by Pan's bratty outburst. He had seen the look on his Bra's little face afterwards- she was really hurt.

She didn't want to sit in the back on the journey home but begged to sit on Bulma's lap as be soothed by her mama's hushed tones whilst her papa took them all home. Soon, her sobs stopped, then her hiccups, and soon she fell into a puffy eyes doze. Over hear head, Vegeta gave his wife a look. A look that said 'I didn't even want to go in the first place.' Bulma returned a look that simply said, 'shut up.'

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