pBra sat at the large dinner table, kicking her short legs to and fro as she dangled her tongue out of her mouth. She pressed a crayon to her chin and hummed, trying to figure out exactly what to draw.

"Mama," she called to Bulma, who was busy seasoning meat for their dinner, "What kind of picture would Papa like for a present?"

The older blue haired woman turned around, smoothing out her apron. "Well, sweetie, your dad isn't exactly…. conventional…" Bulma chuckled and ran her fingers under the sink water, watching the seasoned slime drip from her fingers, "So I'm sure whatever you give him will be fine."

"Hmnnnn, you're no help, Mama," Bra pouted, resting her chin in her hand, "I want it to be perfect."

Bulma sighed and walked over to the table, dropping down to Bra's height. She glanced at that blank paper, and then over to her upset daughter. "Why don't you say some nice things to your Papa? Anything that comes from an honest heart can never go wrong."

Bra's little face perked up as she flashed Bulma a dazzling smile, her large blue eyes swimming with glee. "Oh, wow Mama! Big brother is right! You are super smart!" Bulma chuckled as Bra grabbed the paper and slid it in front of her, gliding her red crayon across the sheet.

Bulma ran her fingers through the toddler's ponytail, trying to get a sneak peek into what she was writing. Bra glanced up at her with accusing eyes and covered the paper with her tiny arms, throwing her head on top. "No, Mama! This is for Papa's eyes only! No peeking!"

Bulma threw her hands up in defeat and smiled, walking back over to the stove. "Say no more kiddo! Mama won't interfere with your sacred letter!"

Bra glared at her until she was at a safe distance, only continuing her writing when her mother's back was fully turned. She licked her lips and took Bulma's advice, letting heart do the writing instead of her brain. "Dear Papa…." she whispered.

OooOooo

Vegeta turned off the gravity simulator and felt his muscles relax, wiping his brow. Today had been an intense training, and he had pretty much tried to make sure he stayed away all day. Bulma hadn't come to knock, Trunks hadn't bothered to give him some sort of present, and Bra did not crawl over him while nagging about his age. The small things in life, he had learned to be grateful for.

Birthday. Bulma had found it strange that Saiyans did not feel the need to celebrate the annual year of their birth, and even after explaining that a Saiyans birth date was only ceremonial during certain parts of their life, she still tried to make it a big deal. "Well, Goku celebrates it!" was her excuse, but Vegeta knew it was just an excuse for the third class to have cake. Goku probably couldn't even accurately tell anyone his age, let alone throw a party about it. And if Bulma was anything like Chi Chi, then a small part of him could understand why Goku had a hard time saying no.

But that didn't mean his own wife wasn't full of treachery. While he appreciated the cake, the idea of an entire day circulating around him and involving songs and questions and silly streamers was so beneath him. He had no qualms about his children celebrating—he had even persuaded Bulma to make Trunks traditional Saiyan armor in his royal birthright one year— there was no need for him to participate in his own affairs. So he appreciated this quiet day, spent best as he saw fit. After all, in typical Earthling fashion, wasn't he allowed to do whatever he desired on a day that rose and fell on him?

That part, he could agree with.

He opened the door to the gravity room and was instantly met with a white envelope, riddled with stickers. He removed the paper from the top of his hair and eyed it curiously.

"Vegeta! " Bulma walked down the corridor, holding a cupcake in her hand. "Happy Birthday hun! So happy you finally came out of your training! And just in time for your birthday dinner!"

"Hmph," he remarked, looking at the chocolate confection greedily, "I'm starving. And what is this?" He placed the envelope in front of her nose, grabbing the cupcake with his other hand and scarfing it down.

"Rude! " Bulma frowned,"But I think this comes from Bra. You know she loves to help her Papa celebrate!" She winked at him, knowing the reminder would aggravate him as much as entice him.

"I thought I told you to tell the kids not to do anything this year! "

" Sure, you really expect me to tell the offspring of Vegeta and Bulma that they can't do something. Because that always works out so perfectly." She folded her arms and pursed her lips. "So…?"

He glanced up at her from the letter. "So what?"

"So what does it say? I'm interested! "

Vegeta read the front of the envelope and growled. "Have you no couth, woman!? It says for my eyes only! I will not betray her trust!"

"Oh my Dende," Bulma rolled her eyes, "You Saiyans are so dramatic, no matter how watered down the gene is. Well whatever, Im going to start serving plates, so you better hurry before Trunks eats your food! Teenage Saiyans are nothing to play around about."

Vegeta snarled. "You tell that boy that if he even glances at my steak for too long, I will make him train with me everyday for a month."

"Sure, sure," Bulma waved him off, turning around, "I'll see you soon, your highness."

Vegeta waited until she was no longer in his presence before opening the letter, being careful not to rip it. He was proud to see she had been practicing her letters, even if a few words were misspelled. He began to read:

"Dear Papa,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

You're a whole 'nother year older huh? What are you, like a bajillion years old? I'm surprised you're still so strong!

Papa, every other kid in Bra's class has dads that give them ice cream, or take them to the store, or make them lunches with cute notes. But none of them have Papa's that will beat up cars for them when they get too close! Or yell at other people when they make Bra cry, and make them cry instead! When I told the kids that, they said they wish they had a Papa like you too! But you only belong to Bra!

Trunks doesn't count because he's a cunt. (I heard Goten say that the other day, and that means he's bad right?)

Mama told me to be honest, so I'll tell you why I like you so much Papa. You're really strong, like REALLY strong. You sit with me when I'm scared at night, (which isn't a lot because Saiyan Princesses aren't scared of anything, right Papa?) and you make Bra laugh when you get really mad. 'Member when you blew up that bench at the park because that big kid said Trunks had stupid hair? I laughed so hard I peed, Papa (don't tell Mama please. I cleaned up I promise!)

Pam always says that HER Papa is best because he's really smart, but I told her that my Papa used to beat up her Papa (Trunks told me! He told me not to tell… Oops… Well you won't tell, will you?) maybe you should talk with Pan and uncle Gohan and set them straight like Mama has to do with you. It always works, that's what she says anyways.

Thank you for being the best daddy ever. One day I will be a super Saiyan just like you so I can make the dark not so scary when you get scared.

Bra loves you very much Papa!

P.s. I'm sorry again for getting you gummy worms last year. I didn't mean to make you cry. This time I got you gummy bears. They're just as yummy! "

The bottom of the paper was scribbled with a black and blue outline of them punching stick figures, and Vegeta felt his pride swell up.

There was no way he was getting emotional over a four year old's letter. Absolutely no way. He was just….

… Oh fuck it. He loved this little letter, and as he stuck it back in the envelope, he knew he would keep it in a safe spot where his nose wife and troublesome son would never find it.

Pride used to be a detrimental flaw in Vegeta's life, but these days it took on a new connotation. His daughter was the third most fulfilling result of his life on Earth, and for her, and ONLY her, he would enjoy the rest of this day in some sort of traditional celebration.

But first he would have a little talk with his son and Goten for even daring to taint his precious princess with obscene words.