hello! sorry this update took a bit longer than usual... i've been working on another fanfiction centered around Bulma and Vegeta. Stay tuned for that one ;) but please enjoy and review if you feel inclined to do so... maybe offer an opinion on how well you think i'm writing from vegeta's pov, since vegeta is vegeta and it's sometimes difficult to get into his head
i don't own these characters or dbz/dbs
Pulling two gallons of water from the refrigerator, I head pass the living room to the the gravity simulator.
"Come on Trunks." I say as I pass my son, who's sitting on the floor. When I don't sense him moving to join me, I pause for a moment. Hm, there's no sound of violence coming from the screen to which the boy is usually glued. Odd.
Glancing around the corner, I see him surrounded by about six books. As I approach, I see he holds a picture in each hand. Leaning in closer, I can see that one is a group photograph of Bulma, holding Trunks, and Bulma's parents. The picture in his right hand is one that Bulma took of me without my knowledge. I'm sitting on the couch, holding Bra, with Bulma's parents hovering behind me. Blasted woman.
My gaze shifts from the pictures to Trunks, whose brow is knit in concentration.
"Why… Why are there no pictures of you with me as a baby, Dad?" Trunks inquires. I gulp. After the Buu fiasco, Bulma and I had partially explained to Trunks about my past, but we did not dive deeply into that cesspool. As Trunks gazes at me with an eyebrow raised, I'm struck by his resemblance to me. I don't know why I didn't see it when that boy from the future came to this time. Just like the Trunks in front of me, Future Trunks possesses my slanted eyes, my nose, and my tanned skin. Bulma has made comments in the past that she knew she saw something familiar in Future Trunk's face that made her attracted to him. I grimace and throw that thought away, wondering for a moment if this mudball planet's gravity affects sanity. All these humans are imbeciles.
Unsure of what to say, I take the photo of Trunks with his mother and grandparent from my son's hand. When this picture was taken, I was still in space, trying to escape any responsibility to this child in front of me. But how do I explain that to him? He is a teenager… By the time I was his age, I had purged countless planets, taken innumerable lives, and was planning revenge against the tyrant who had killed my people and enslaved me. Part of me wants to be cruel and simply tell him the harsh truth. But, a bigger part of me wants to shield Trunks from everything I once knew.
Trunks gets up to leave, and I realize I must have been staring at the photo for a few minutes now. As he walks by, he takes the item from my hand. I stand in stunned silence, still uncertain of what to do.
"It's okay Dad. I'm not sure what happened, but I have a feeling I understand on some level." He mumbles as he walks away, not towards the gravity room but towards his bedroom. I simply watch him walk away, unable to sort out my thoughts. Grunting, I go where I always go when I am uncertain of what to do.
Upon entering Bulma's lab, my sensitive nose is assaulted with the smell of trash. Wrinkling my face, I glare disgustedly at the mess that she calls her workroom. The trash can is overflowing and there are papers cluttered everywhere. At a desk on the other side of the room, I barely can make out my mate's blue hair sticking above a pile of metal. Behind her, a smartboard is filled with complex equations.
Slowly making my way around the crap on the floor, I approach my wife, who's furiously typing on a laptop. Three empty cups of coffee surround her workspace, and a pencil is shoved behind her ear. I lean against the adjacent wall, allowing her to finish whatever she is working on. I've learned the hard way not to interrupt the woman when she is "in the zone", as she calls it.
In about three minutes, she clicks one last button and leans back with a sigh, stretching. She spins around in her chair and stands up to refill one of her coffee cups.
"So, what do you need Vegeta?" She inquires, stirring sugar into her cup. She blows a piece of hair out of her face.
"The boy… He's asked me a question." She stops stirring.
"And what may have that question have been?" She asks, her eyebrow slanting in the same way Trunks's had moments ago.
"He's acquired some photographs… And has made the connection that I was not around during his earlier years." I say gruffly, working out some kinks in my neck. Bulma gazes at the wall, and I can see her concentrating.
"So when he asked you about it, you didn't answer?" She surmises. I grunt in affirmation. She places her cup down and moves to lean against the desk across from me.
"Look, this is something that's between you and him. If you want me to be present for this… conversation, then I will be there. But I think it's about time you talked about this with him. Especially now that he is going to be seeing you interacting with Bra." I nod in agreement. I hesitate a moment before I reveal what I'm truly wondering.
"But what about everything else about…"
"Your past?" She finishes for me. Her hand latches out to grasp mine, and she squeezes my fingers as tightly as she can.
"Trunks absolutely adores you. And he is a bright kid; he already knows that you weren't always on our side. I think a big part of him wants to understand why you were that way. The kid comprehends cause and effect." I absorb her words silently. With a small smile, she moves closer to me, stroking my cheek. My hands instinctively travel to her hips.
"He's still going to look up to you, Vegeta. And in his older years, he may hold even more respect for you as he matures and understands more fully what you went through." She whispers into my ear before nibbling on my earlobe. Bringing her body flush against mine with one hand, I use the other to gently grasp her chin and bring her mouth to my own. Kissing her hard, I silently thank her for her support. Just as always, she somehow understands my way of communicating as she groans and weaves her hands into my hair. Lifting her up to sit on the desk, I move my mouth to kiss her mating mark. She arches her neck, clutching the nape of my neck.
She's about to pull me up to her mouth again, but her phone goes off. I bury my face in her neck and huff as she throws her head back to laugh. Gently pushing me off of her, she answers her machine with a wink. I smirk back at her, before quietly stalking upstairs.
I sense out my son's ki, and it leads me to Eschalot's room. I find my son looming over my daughter's crib, his arms crossed. An exact replica of me. I swallow. Hopefully, he will be nothing like me.
"Trunks." I call, and he turns his head slightly to acknowledge me. I snort at his disrespect, and stalk over to stand with him.
"She sleeps a whole lot." He mutters, eyes fixed on Bra.
"You did too." I say after a few moments.
"How would you know?" Trunks asks, his blazing eyes meeting mine with a challenge.
"Son," I take a deep breath, "you know I was not always who I am today. And when you were born, I still had a lot of… change… to go through." I swallow my pride before continuing.
"I was afraid to be a father. But when I returned to Capsule Corp after the Cell Games, it became… instinctual." There is a second of silence between us.
"I used to watch you sleep like we are watching Bra." I offer, unsure what my son's silence means. With a sigh, Trunks moves to the window to stare at the stars. I cross my arms, feeling uncomfortable. I make up my mind to leave when Trunks speaks up.
"Thanks for being honest with me, Dad. I do really appreciate it. And… I hope you know I don't hold any of your past against you." With a small smile, my son walks out the door of Eschalot's room. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding, and fix my gaze on Bra.
'That went well, didn't it, princess?' I ask my sleeping daughter in my mind.
