Bulma smiled happily as she turned sideways to gaze at herself in the mirror, one hand covering her stomach. She was noticeably showing, and much sooner than she had with Trunks. At times like these she wished there was someone in the medical field properly equipped to help her give birth to a human-Saiyan hybrid child. As it stood, she only had her pregnancy with Trunks, and Chi-Chi's births for guidance. She was well aware that her best friend's pregnancy with Goten had gone much faster than Gohan's, with the baby coming to full term in seven months. She wondered if her own second pregnancy would follow the same pattern as well.
"Naming you after your daddy wouldn't be so bad I suppose, if you're a boy," she whispered, turning the other way to check her profile. "We could call you VJ for short. If you're a girl, would you like Bra as your name? I think that would be cute. You'll be a cute baby either way, won't you? Yes you will-"
"Talking to yourself again, female?" her husband's gruff voice interrupted as Vegeta walked into their bedroom, his morning training session complete. Bulma didn't look away from the mirror, resting her hands on her lower back.
"I was trying some names out loud," Bulma informed him. The prince grunted and went over to one of the loveseats in their spacious bedroom, sitting down heavily into it. This time, he earned his wife's full attention as she scowled at his sweaty frame. "Hey buddy, you're going to get sweat all over that leather," she chastised. "Go take a shower. You need to get ready to come with me to my doctor's appointment anyway."
Vegeta rolled his eyes, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a towel, before using it on his bare chest as he watched his wife turn her attention back to the mirror. "What the hell do you need the doctor for?" he demanded irritably. He had agreed on accompanying her more out of curiosity, but he had his doubts as to how helpful it would be. "The child is months away from being born. They won't be able to help you anyway since it's a Saiyan child you are carrying."
"Well, I am not Saiyan, I'm human, so it can't hurt. Besides. We may find out the baby's sex today. Everyone says it's too early, but I'm already bigger than I was at this time with Trunks." She frowned in thought, looking back over at her husband. "Would you happen to know how long Saiyan women carried their pregnancies?"
Vegeta grunted and shook his head. "Wasn't Kakarot's second spawn born earlier than expected?"
"He was, and so was Pan. They weren't preemies though. They were born a normal size and weight…well, by our human standards."
"I'm sure it will be fine."
"I was thinking if it's a boy, we can call him VJ."
"VJ?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Vegeta Junior."
Vegeta's eye twitched. "No," he spat, no argument in his voice.
"Well, we need something to differentiate him from you," she argued, before smiling and turning back to gaze at her reflection. "But then again, it may be a girl. If so, I really like the name Bra."
Vegeta's eye twitched again. He already suspected that she was carrying a girl, but he wasn't entirely sure. As soon as he had felt Goten for the first time, when Chi-Chi was roughly as far along as Bulma was, he had known the child was male. For Videl, however, he hadn't been able to tell until the child was further along, and then came to find it was a female. It wasn't much of a sample size, but it currently only pointed in one direction.
He grunted and stood up, wiping his face again with his towel as his dark eyes swept over his wife's frame. He could see the effects of the pregnancy, and thus far, he was all in favor of them. Seeing the visible growth in her stomach, knowing she was carrying his growing child, filled it him with a deeper pride than he'd ever known. And the growth in her breasts was definitely not something he was going to complain about anytime soon.
He was contemplating ravishing her – gently, since she was pregnant – when she killed his mood by demanding, "Did you read the pamphlets I gave you on the Daddy Boot Camp in East City?"
His upper lip curled in disgust as he spat out, "Pregnancy must be making you insane, woman, to think that I would lower myself to attend such a stupid thing."
"Ohhhhh, well I'm sorry, your highness," Bulma sarcastically replied, turning back to face him directly, her hands on her waist. "I didn't realize I was married to the freakin' baby whisperer! You could learn a thing or two there, you know."
"I told you I wasn't going. That was the end of the discussion."
"I asked you to at least look at the pamphlets 18 got me. Krillin and Gohan both went, and they said it was helpful. They both said they would recom—Vegeta!" Bulma cried when he turned away and started walking over to their private bathroom. The prince inwardly groaned when he felt her on her heels. The woman was relentless, always had been, but this was an insane idea, even for her.
"You humans always complicate everything," he sneered, feeling her right on his heels. "It does not take special training to learn how to hold and care for a child. I remember how it was with Trunks and Goten, and I see how it is now with Pan. I will be fine."
"Seeing isn't the same as doing," Bulma told him, grabbing onto his arm just as he was about to step into the bathroom. Vegeta sighed, looking down as she came to stand in front of him. "Just look at the pamphlets, will you? That's all I want. Please, hon? Will you do that for me?" she asked him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Please?" she sweetly asked again, kissing him by the nose and making him close his eyes. "I want you," she kissed him by his left eye, "-to help me-" she kissed him by his right eye, "-with our baby-"
He grunted and put his arm around her waist, pulling her close against him, ending her game and making her laugh. "You cannot coerce me into doing your bidding, foolish woman," he growled, his eyes lowering to her lips.
"I'm not trying to coerce you into going. I'm trying to coerce you into thinking about going, stubborn Saiyan," she whispered, smirking against his lips. His lip twitched, and he fought back his smile, an easy feat when she kissed him on the mouth this time. He opened his mouth and deepened their kiss, exhaling through his nose as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He kept one hand on the small of her back, his other moving up her side and exploring her curves.
Bulma finally broke their kiss, breathless as she leaned her forehead against his. "Does that mean you'll think about it?"
The prince grunted, before frowning as he closed his eyes. He couldn't deny her like this. He had never been able to, and he was dismayed to realize he likely never would. Not when she was in his arms, not when he could feel her warmth and the warmth and ki of their child inside her, not when her scent washed away his rational thought.
He didn't respond, but he sighed in defeat, his grip on her tightening a little as he held her closer. Bulma smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.
"We have a little time before the doctor's appointment, you know, if you want some company in the shower," she flirtatiously teased, moving one nail down his firm chest, gently following a scar down his sternum. "Unless you think three is a crowd?"
The prince's frown deepened as he finally pulled back, his eyes lowering to her stomach while he asked the same question he always asked those days. "And you're sure I won't hurt the child?"
"You kidding me? My kids are both tough half-Saiyans," she smugly informed him, and he snorted, stifling his laughter but unable to keep the light of pride out of his dark eyes.
"Goddamn right, woman. And don't you ever forget it."
Wrapping one arm around her waist and hooking one hand under her thigh, he easily hoisted her up against him as she wrapped her legs around him. She laughed as he carried her into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
An hour later, Vegeta was feeling more alien on the planet than he had in a long time as he accompanied Bulma through the hallway of West City Hospital. Trunks had been sick the first time Bulma had gone to visit the doctor to confirm their pregnancy, so he had stayed home to keep an eye on the boy and make sure his first-born didn't keel over. Their thirteen-year-old son was spending the day fishing with Goten and Goku that morning now that his grounding was up, so the prince was officially out of excuses.
Although if he was being fully honest with himself, he wasn't trying too hard to find excuses to back out of accompanying Bulma to this. He was curious about the ultrasound she was going to have done, and he wanted the chance to scope out the equipment and facilities where his second child would be born. In addition, the prince was making it a point to be around Bulma as much as he could be, to keep an eye on her and make sure she and their unborn child were safe. It was a trait Bulma found both endearing and irritating (especially when she was trying to work and he would constantly drop by unannounced to check on her, embarrassing her in meetings without giving a damn), but if it meant he put up little fuss about accompanying her to her medical appointments, she would endure.
Bulma reached out for her husband's hand, only to have him give her a look of disapproval before he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. She sighed, rolling her eyes.
"We are in the maternity wing and I'm finally showing. Doesn't take a genius to figure out you're the father. You can be a gentleman and hold your wife's hand in public, you jerk. You won't melt."
"Whatever, woman," he gruffly replied as they kept walking down the hallway. What they did behind closed doors in the privacy of their own home was one thing. He had never warmed to public displays of affection, and he doubted he ever would. The prince's scowl deepened as he surveyed the doors. "Let's just get on with it."
"Here we are," she announced, before entering a specific door, her husband close behind her.
The prince stood by his wife while she signed in at a reception desk, his dark eyes scanning the waiting room. In the corner there was a children section, with toys and books and building blocks. There were currently two toddlers playing there, and they were screeching like pterodactyls every so often out of excitement while their parents sat nearby reading newspapers. There was one older child who looked to be around 4 years old, who was bawling and screaming unintelligibly as his father tried to calm him down to no success. Vegeta sneered in disgust at the display, recalling Trunks as a rambunctious toddler and a mischievous little boy to watch over. Now he is an annoying, rebellious adolescent. He eyed Bulma from the side, frowning as his gaze dropped to her stomach. He only hoped his second child would be calmer than his first.
"Alright, let's go," Bulma told him, and he followed after her into the doctor's office, surveying the walls and reading some of the posters. Some of them shocked him with the detail of the birthing process; Bulma had given him reading material, but it never failed to surprise him how detailed it was. The prince poked his head in to some of the rooms, and scowled.
"Woman, this shit is archaic," he informed Bulma, who looked over her shoulder at him in exasperation. "We should go off planet, to have more advanced-"
"Hello, Bulma!" a perky female doctor with large framed glasses greeted them as they walked into her office. "Ah, you must be the father-to-be, Mr…?"
Vegeta's arms tightened across his chest, and he looked away, prompting Bulma to cut in, "This is my husband, Vegeta."
"Ah, welcome, Vegeta! I am Dr. Robinson. Please, come in, have a seat. We'll get some information for starters, and then we can go into the next room and do an ultrasound…"
Vegeta tuned out as the two women conversed, remaining standing and instead focusing on the plaques and framed degrees on the wall in the office. He read over the educational institutions, memorizing them so he could look them up online later. If they were not ranked top tier in the world, he would have Bulma go somewhere else. He hadn't been entirely joking either when he suggested going off-planet. Aside from the things that came from Capsule Corp that his family invented, he had never been impressed with Earth's technology. They could easily find better technology off-planet, with more advanced care from aliens who were used to hybrid species being born.
He glanced back at his wife out of the corner of his eye when she laughed over something. Then again…he looked forward again to one of the framed degrees and frowned. Letting others know that he had a woman who was carrying his second child was far too risky. Unfortunately, it looked like he would have to deal. He sighed, and then looked back over when Bulma called to him.
He followed his wife and the doctor into another room, and then took a seat as Bulma laid down.
"It's a bit odd. The dates all seem to suggest that you're three months pregnant, but you look to be about five months pregnant…"
"It is going fast," Bulma chuckled. Vegeta stood up when the doctor pushed his wife's blouse up to expose her stomach and another technician came into the room, coming over to his wife's side.
"Perhaps the dates are wrong."
"I doubt it. My husband's…blood…is a little different," she forced a laugh.
"Ah," the doctor nodded. Bulma was a famous woman, and there were quite a few rumors about the man who was her husband. She pushed no further on the issue. "Well, we'll have a better look here soon."
"What the hell are you putting on my wife? What is that?" Vegeta threateningly demanded, as the technician started putting a gel on Bulma's skin over her abdomen. The technician and the doctor both gawked at him, with the technician gulping as Bulma just laughed.
"It's fine, hon. It doesn't hurt. They need to do this to do the ultrasound."
"Hn. Fine," Vegeta relented, crossing his arms and glaring at the suddenly-nervous technician who went back to work. His eye twitched when the technician brought out a small device he didn't recognize. He growled, "What is that? Now what are you doing?"
"Vegeta," Bulma sighed. "It's fine."
"It doesn't hurt. And look at that. Now we have a picture," Dr. Robinson happily informed them.
Vegeta's attention was immediately diverted to the monitor next to the bed. His anxiety over the unfamiliar technique and over Earth's technology both died when he saw their second child for the first time. It was one thing feeling the child; it was another actually seeing them.
That's my kid, he marveled, easily making out the child curled up in the fetal position. Unbelievable.
Bulma was transfixed as well, smiling at the black and white ultrasound. She looked back at her husband, and he broke his stare to match her gaze. This time when Bulma reached for his hand, he gave it to her almost absentmindedly without complaint, letting her interlace their fingers together as he looked back at the monitor.
"He does look a little further along than just a few months," the doctor noted. "We will move the due date up a tad-"
"Wait wait, did you say he?" Bulma cut in excitedly. "It's a boy?"
"It looks like it."
"Oh, thank the gods," Vegeta whispered, wiping at his brow with his forearm and making Bulma roll her eyes.
"Oh, wait," the doctor added, frowning as she peered at the monitor. She motioned for the gadget from the technician, and moved it over Bulma's stomach to get a different angle. "It's not a boy, it's a girl."
"What?" Bulma and Vegeta both exclaimed. They shot each other confused looks. "We're having a girl then?" Bulma eagerly tried clarifying.
"Are you certain?" Vegeta asked, brow furrowing as he looked back at the monitor. He wiped at his brow again with his forearm, suddenly sweating.
"Yes…that's not a penis…" the doctor muttered in confusion. "That's…that's…"
"A tail," Vegeta confirmed, smirking. It was small, but it was visible. Just more confirmation that it was definitely his kid.
"Oh wow, our baby girl has a tail," Bulma marveled. "Trunks didn't have one. This will definitely be different."
"A tail…" the doctor repeated, thunderstruck. Neither one of the expectant parents were prepared, and both looked shocked when the doctor passed out and collapsed to the floor, effectively ending the ultrasound exam and sending the rest of the appointment into chaos.
Half an hour later, Vegeta was waiting for his wife outside the lobby door. He was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, arms crossed as he frowned in concentration. The prince was pleased that his offspring had a tail, but that certainly hadn't crossed his mind in some time. He would have to show the child how to control the transformation, but the child would have to be indoors whenever the full moon was out until she was old enough to handle it.
She. A girl. A daughter. I'm going to have a daughter. He opened his eyes, blinking, still stunned by the news. He had suspected as much that it was a girl, but now wasn't sure what to think. How many times had he mocked Krillin when he had dressed up to play along with his little girl? Now that would be him. He swallowed, his thoughts racing as he rubbed the back of his neck.
What does a warrior do with his daughter? Besides teach her to fight, of course. Which he would. That much was a given. No one would ever harm a hair on his little girl's head, not as long as he breathed. She would be a fighter, like him. Like the brave female Saiyans that he had heard so many legends about from Nappa and Raditz. She would be the best of them.
But aside from teaching her to fight…? He swallowed again.
It took another few minutes before Bulma emerged. Her eyes settled on him, and he looked over, frowning as he did. They stared at each other for a few moments in silence, before Bulma suddenly launched herself into his arms. Vegeta instinctively steadied her as she hugged him tightly.
"Don't throw yourself like that, woman," he growled. "You are pregnant, or have you forgotten?"
"Oh Vegeta, we're having a little girl!" she exclaimed happily.
"So it seems," Vegeta grumbled and settled his hands on her waist as he leaned back against the wall. He looked around, but saw no one watching them. Bulma pulled back and rested her hands on his chest, drawing his attention again. The prince watched as she studied his face intently, the smile slowly vanishing from her face.
"You're not happy," she concluded, studying his eyes and misreading his doubts. The prince's frown deepened, and he hesitated a second too long to respond for Bulma's liking. Just as fast as she'd been in his arms, she pulled away from him completely, giving him a look that would have put him six feet under if looks could kill. "You're a real asshole sometimes, Vegeta," she informed him, genuine anger in her voice.
He blinked. "I didn't even say anything-"
"You didn't have to. And I will have you know, there is nothing wrong with us having a girl!" she snapped at him.
"I didn't say there was, woman. And don't put fucking put words in my mouth, you know that I hate that," he snapped back.
"Oh? So that wasn't you I heard saying 'thank the gods' when you thought it was a boy, huh? Alright, fine then. Look at me and tell me that you're happy. As happy as you'd be if we were having another boy." Bulma crossed her arms, looked pointedly at him, and waited.
Vegeta hesitated again, uncomfortable with being put on the spot, but also failing to find the words to explain how he felt. Deep down, he didn't think much of himself as a father to Trunks, and the years had only marginally softened his opinion on his parenting ability. But raising a girl? Raising his son was hard enough. He was unequipped to describe the anxiety it all made him feel. After all, he could barely help Trunks navigate through adolescence in his son's human world. He could be hard on Trunks; the boy was strong enough to handle it. Did he have it in him to treat his daughter the same way? And if he couldn't rein her in the same way he could Trunks…what then?
His silence lasted one second too long for Bulma's taste. She turned on her heel, fuming as she walked away. "You can fly home. I don't want to see you right now."
"Bulma…" he started, taking a step after her.
"I mean it. Don't try me."
Vegeta knew that tone, so he didn't. He stood there, watching her walk away, until she went down a stairwell and vanished from his sight. It was only then that he looked away, his eye twitching. He hated that she wasn't able to tell how he was feeling, like she usually could. Sighing, he ran one hand through his hair, before heading in the opposite direction. At the first window he saw, he opened it and climbed out, easily leaping up to the rooftop of the hospital.
Wind whipping through his hair and rustling his shirt, the prince leaned over the edge, his dark eyes scanning the parking lot below. He watched as his wife emerged from the building, went over to her favorite sportscar and got in. He maintained his vigilance the whole time, intent on giving her the distance she demanded, while still ensuring she made it home safely.
When he was certain she was safe at home, and when he felt Trunks there too, he finally relaxed. The prince briefly contemplated going after her, but decided cooler heads would prevail. Besides, he needed time to gather his own thoughts, since Bulma appeared to have no patience for anything less that day.
He glanced back over in the direction of Capsule Corp once more, then he turned and gave it his back. Tightening his fists, his bright blue ki ignited around him. A second later and he was gone.
In retrospect, perhaps supplying an overflow of alcohol for his friends when his wife was already angry with him was a bad idea – especially when that wife was Android 18.
The evening had started innocently enough. He had invited Yamcha, Tien, and Roshi over for drinks and to play cards, something that had already been planned for a week. It would not have been so bad, had he not completely forgotten to tell his wife they were coming over (he could have sworn he had told her). That was strike 1. Strike 2 came along quickly afterwards when he realized that 18 had planned a romantic dinner for them as a surprise, even going so far as to arrange for a babysitter for Marron, and now had to cancel the reservation. But those sins were not as grievous as the one that was revealed when Yamcha and Roshi got drunk, and let it slip that Marron was also the name of one of Krillin's ex-girlfriends.
Strike 3: game over.
Krillin sighed as he stepped into a bar later that night in West City. He himself hadn't had much to drink, which he wanted to rectify. His friends had apologized to him, and likely would have tagged along had he allowed it. But 18 wanted to be alone, too angry with him to speak to him, and he wasn't up for company anymore either.
He was practically sulking when he sat on a barstool, miserably ordering a vodka before propping his chin up with his hand, his elbow on the table. He was wondering how long he'd be sleeping on the sofa when he perked up a little, sensing someone familiar nearby. He frowned, focusing, and then blinked in surprise. That energy signal was as unmistakable as it was unexpected. And it was right-
"You should pay better attention, baldy. I could have easily killed you just now."
-next to him. Krillin looked over at Vegeta who sat down next to him. The prince signaled for a beer as Krillin raised an eyebrow.
"Were you following me or something?"
Vegeta grunted, taking the cold bottle he was offered. He had indeed sought out the smaller man at his home, only to find that they were having some kind of get-together. The prince had zero interest in making his presence known to that many of the Earthling crew, but he had been curious when he heard yelling. When he had tracked Krillin leaving shortly afterwards, he figured the smaller warrior was onto something when he walked into the bar. Alcohol would be good, for all parties involved.
He ripped off the top of the bottle with his teeth, taking a good chug. "I was nearby," he gruffly informed Krillin. "What about you? What compels you to drink tonight, baldy?"
"You know that I have hair now, right?"
"You know that I don't give a shit, right?" the prince sneered. "Answer the question."
Krillin sighed, looking away as he raised his glass. "I'm in the doghouse," he mumbled.
Vegeta raised an eyebrow. He glanced around, frowning as he did, before peering closer at his beer bottle to make sure it wasn't spiked with something bad. "Doghouse?" he finally ventured, forcing his voice to sound indifferent and not as confused as he felt.
"Eh, 18 is mad at me," Krillin miserably admitted, before raising his glass and taking a drink.
"Hn," Vegeta grunted with indifference. He couldn't have cared less.
"What about you? I can't imagine you're only here to hear about my marriage."
The prince frowned, before raising his bottle and chugging the rest of it in one shot. He signaled for another, before looking up at the television mounted above them, not bothering to address his companion.
Krillin waited, but when minutes passed in silence, he figured the Saiyan was not going to share whatever had brought about his unusual behavior. Far from it being awkward, though, he found Vegeta's presence that evening to be oddly soothing. The prince was a quiet man, who didn't need to fill every second with awkward conversation, like he and his friends were prone to doing. They kept the silence, both of them watching the television above them with only minimal interest as the drinks continued until both men were comfortably buzzed.
"What's it like, having a daughter?" Vegeta finally asked aloud, nearly thirty minutes later. Krillin nearly choked on his drink. Of all the questions he would have written up that the Saiyan prince might have asked, that would've never made the list. He glanced over at Vegeta, but the prince kept his eyes on the television. His face was guarded, except for the muscle that flexed near his jaw as he carefully added, "I am…curious."
"What, is Bulma pregnant again or something?" Krillin laughed.
"And just what is so funny about that?" Vegeta heatedly demanded, turning to glare at him.
Krillin was unfazed though, much to the prince's dismay. His eyes widened as he exclaimed, "Whoa, seriously? Bulma's pregnant?! Holy crap!"
"Keep it down, idiot! I didn't come to advertise the news."
"Well, regardless, congratulations are in order. That's really great news! It's a girl, I'm guessing?"
"Yes, the child is female," Vegeta sighed. He signaled for another drink.
"That's great, really. Daughters are awesome. They're a blessing."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, definitely," Krillin stated, pride in his voice. "You'll see. There's nothing like a daughter adoring you and looking up to you. You set the example too, you know. You're the first adult male she will really get to know, and you'll set the tone for what she expects a good guy to be."
He of all people, setting an example for the type of man his daughter should expect in her life? He would rather set himself on fire. But he supposed it wasn't too much worse than setting the example for the type of man Trunks should be…although he was fairly certain the boy was not following in his footsteps. That was for the best. He hoped the girl would follow her brother's example. The prince looked visibly uncomfortable, frowning before he asked, "How do you discipline your daughter?"
"I usually let 18 handle that. It's easier."
Vegeta nodded. That would indeed be the best approach. His words were coming easier now as he asked, "Does your daughter know how to fight?"
"A little, but not much. She doesn't really have an interest in fighting," Krillin said with a shrug. Vegeta scowled in disappointment; if his daughter didn't want to fight, then he was really going to be at a loss. "She's outgrowing playing with dolls, but we used to have tea parties, and I let her do my hair a couple times," Krillin added, taking far more pleasure than he should have from the look of shock and disgust on Vegeta's face.
"I will not do that. Ever," he vehemently swore. "The girl can play with Gohan's brat if that's what she wants."
"Uh huh. That's what I said. We'll see what you say when you have a little girl wanting to play," Krillin chuckled. Vegeta closed his eyes and chugged down another bottle while Krillin watched. The smaller man pondered for a moment, before he brightened. "Hey, you know what may help you get ready for having a girl? Before Marron was born, I took this Daddy Boot Camp-"
Vegeta choked, coughing and sputtering as he hit his chest with a fist. Krillin instantly started patting him on the back, his face sheepish. "Sorry! Didn't mean to make ya choke, Vegeta. But if you get the chance to check it out, you should. It was a lifesaver for me."
"Fuck you, baldy. I'm going home," a red-faced Vegeta rasped. He tossed several bills on the counter before getting up and heading to the door, coughing a couple more times.
"Congratulations again!" Krillin called out, but he was ignored.
The prince stepped out into the cool night air, looking up at the sky as he regained his breath. He scanned the stars for a few seconds, before shifting his attention towards the direction of Capsule Corp. He had gotten some insight from another male, but now he had to have a talk with his wife.
Meanwhile, Bulma was lying in bed, under the covers and reading a book on pregnancy. After all, it had been a while since Trunks was born, not to mention that she was older now. She was determined to do it better to hopefully have an easier time. Glancing next to her, she looked at the picture of her ultrasound, picking it up for a closer look and smiling a little as she did. She was unfazed by the small tail in the image as well, although it made her smile strained at the visible reminder of her husband.
As if on cue, she heard a rustling before the door slid open to their bedroom balcony. Bulma turned around, lying on her side and purposely giving him her back. More than angry, she was hurt by his reaction to their baby being a girl. She was happy, and she wanted him to be too; it was just that simple.
"Where is Trunks?" Vegeta gruffly demanded when he couldn't sense the boy in his room.
"There is some new superhero movie premiering tonight. He wanted to go see it with some friends, so I said that was fine, so long as he's home by midnight."
"Hn."
There was silence after that, with the exception of the quiet sounds of Vegeta getting undressed. When he finally got in bed with her, Bulma reached out to the nightstand and put the picture down, before reaching up and turning off the lamp. Darkness swept the room, along with a suffocating silence.
It felt like it stretched for ages before she felt his muscular arm wrap around her from behind, his hand settling protectively over her stomach. Bulma exhaled slowly when she felt Vegeta's chest press up against her back.
"Are you still angry with me?" he asked. Bulma let the question wash over her, before she scowled and looked over her shoulder.
"Have you been drinking?" she asked, her nose crinkling.
He rolled his eyes. He was a smidge buzzed, but flying through the cold air had helped clear his head, combined with a higher tolerance overall. Still, he had had enough to drink that he was calmer and more relaxed than he usually was, and he couldn't hide that from his wife. "Is that a yes?" he pressed.
"I don't know. Are you still unhappy?" she asked in a tone he couldn't read. But he figured the fact that she wasn't drawing away from his touch was a good sign.
He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in her scent as he settled himself more comfortably against her. "I'm not displeased, woman," he whispered in her ear.
"Could have fooled me," she mumbled. "You're a jerk sometimes, you know that?"
"I just…it's just…" he started, before words failed him.
"Just what?" Bulma prodded, her anger lessening, especially when she felt his unusually gentle touch as his fingers caressed the skin over her stomach. She covered his hand lightly with her own.
It took Vegeta long minutes before he answered, minutes that felt like an eternity to Bulma. When he finally spoke though, his voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear him, even as close as they were.
"I was never around girls growing up. The ones I did see were slaves. Work slaves, sex slaves…women weren't valued in Frieza's Galactic Army except for how long they could last as slaves. Girls were especially useless and were killed usually on sight…it was different, with Saiyans. I know many legends of Saiyan female warriors…but I have no memory of any except for my mother. Aside from you, that was the last time I spent any significant, meaningful time with any female that I can remember."
Bulma stayed quiet for a long time, thinking over his words. Vegeta frowned when she turned over, lying down on her side and facing him now. They stared at each other for some long moments. He was masked with shadows, the light from the balcony bathing him from behind, but the light was illuminating her perfectly, and he couldn't look away if he tried.
"You think you can't do this," she finally realized, reading him like a book. His frown deepened, and he finally broke their eye contact, his eyes drifting down until they settled on her stomach.
"You don't?"
"I don't."
His lip twitched. The woman before him was maddening sometimes. "What have I ever done to make you believe I know the first thing about raising a girl?"
"You think you're the only man who's felt like this about his new daughter? You're not." Vegeta rolled his eyes, even as Bulma pulled up closer to him. "You're a good dad. You'll be fine. Our kid is gonna love you, just like our other kid."
He hesitated, keeping his gaze lowered. "Someone said…that I will set the example. For how a man should be. She will learn that from me."
"Is that so much different from what you do now with Trunks? You're setting the example for him now."
"Trunks is different. He is…better. He is good."
"Just like you."
"Tch."
"We'll figure it out. We always do."
Vegeta's frown softened a small amount at her words. Before she could say anything else, he leaned into her and kissed her, a more gentle kiss than she was used to getting from him as he wordlessly thanked her. Bulma sighed into it, bringing one hand up to his face as he pulled her tighter against him. He sighed into their kiss right as she pulled away.
"Oh yeah, someone's been drinking," she laughed, trailing one finger along his lips. He grunted, closing his eyes.
"I have decided…I will look into attending the father's camp," he admitted in defeat.
"Whoa, are you drunk?" Bulma blinked. "Are you hot? You're not going to throw up on me, are you?" she asked, reaching her hand up to put it against his forehead as he rolled his eyes.
"Whatever. I am only going for one day to see what it's like," he growled.
"Who are you, and what have you done with my crab ass husband?"
"I should have killed you on Namek, goddamn female," he sneered.
"Aw, there you are, sweetheart," she teased, laughing at the angry look he gave her. "That's great though. I'm proud of you. When Bra is born, her daddy will be prepared."
"Bra," he repeated, his scowl worsening. She hadn't let that name go, as unfortunate as that was for him. He didn't fight it nearly as much this time though, blaming the alcohol for making him tired.
"You really don't like it?"
"Hn."
Vegeta exhaled and rolled onto his back, mulling over the name for the first time without committing to it. Bulma followed his motion and curled up against him, resting her head on his bare chest. He said nothing else as he thought about the name, listening to Bulma's breathing as she fell asleep. He imagined an innocent little girl following him around the house, wanting his attention. The universe was a strange thing to give him of all people such an opportunity. He recognized how fortunate he was, and vowed to do his best by the girl, for better or worse. He would learn, just like he had learned with Trunks.
He watched the clock, staying awake as he waited for his son. When he sensed the boy coming home fifteen minutes before the deadline Bulma had given him, Vegeta finally relaxed. The boy was backing up his words, and proving more responsible, slowly but surely.
Trunks and Bra. Two Earthling names for his two Saiyan children. A prince and a princess in their own rights.
He could get used to that.