There was a frown on the face of the four year old girl as she watched her weekend cartoons. Something was definitely amiss, and Bra could not quite figure it out. They all kept talking about the same thing, but it was something she was completely unfamiliar with. How could something show up in every single one of her cartoons if she had never heard of it before?

With great frustration, she watched as yet another commercial came on. There! Even the commercials seemed to know what it was! How did the entire world know about this situation? Angrily she grabbed the remote, turned off the television, and jumped off the couch. That was it. She needed answers, and she needed them immediately.

Normally she liked to start with her daddy when she did not understand something. He always gave short, clear answers. They were not always nice answers, but they always answered her questions. Her mommy could answer her questions, but her answers took longer and usually left the little girl wondering about more than she had been originally concerned about. Her grandparents knew a lot of things, but they only seemed to know them about machines or cooking. And then there was her brother, who liked to pretend he knew everything, but had been caught more than once just making stuff up off of the top of his head.

Unfortunately for the adorable little girl, her parents were both busy. It was a weekend, but Bulma worked whatever hours or days suited her immediate needs. Weekends were no different than weekdays to her. Vegeta was doing what Bra had long since interpreted as his job: training for many, many hours a day to make sure if a bad guy ever came, it would not stand a chance. Her question involved neither robots nor recipes, so she went with her only available option: her brother.

Trunks was in the game room, trying to work his way through yet another dungeon in his video game. "Come on, come on," he grumbled, pushing buttons furiously. "Oh, would you just die already you stupid son of a…"

"Doggie."

The young teenager yelped. Somehow he had missed his sister's entrance entirely. "You have got to stop doing that to me!"

"Daddy says I need to be good at sneaking around," she confidently pointed out. "He says it's a good skill to have."

"Yeah, Dad says a lot of stuff," Trunks mumbled. "What are you doing here, brat? Aren't there ponies and princesses all in pink and purple for you to be watching right now?"

With a smirk, she hopped onto the couch beside her brother. "I am happy with a purple prince."

"Touche," he brother muttered. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I have a question."

Trunks groaned. He hated it when his sister had questions. She always asked about the most random stuff, and it was usually on topics he had little to no knowledge on. Once upon a time he had been honest in those circumstances and just told her that he did not know, but that usually led to her asking about why he knew nothing, when he was going to start learning it, and how long it would take him to master. After a while, he had decided that it was just easier to make stuff up and hope for the best. Though that one could get ugly if he got caught. "What?" he begrudgingly asked.

"What is Valentine's Day?"

It took Trunks a few seconds to respond with, "What?"

"Valentine's Day," the little girl said again. "What is it?"

There was a headache starting to form in the prince's temple already. Why him? Why could she have not asked their mother or grandmother? "It's a holiday."

"What kind of holiday?" she asked.

The headache got slightly worse. Trunks could already tell where the conversation was going to end up. "It's just about all that mushy, lovey-dovey stuff."

Nodding, Bra asked, "What do we do for Valentine's Day?"

"Nothing," Trunks honestly answered.

"But isn't that wrong?" Bra asked. "All of my cartoons showed flowers and chocolate and presents. I like all of those things. Why don't we get any of them?"

The throbbing intensified. "If I promise that on February fourteenth I'll get you some flowers and chocolate and a present, can we stop talking about this?"

Bra considered the proposition for a moment before answering with, "No. I want to keep talking." Her little feet, covered in frilly white socks, kicked out in front of her. "Why don't we do anything for Valentine's Day?"

"Because we don't!" Trunks answered. "It's just not a big thing around here!"

"Then why are all my cartoons talking about it?" the princess asked.

"Because they want to see what it looks like for a teenage boy to have a stroke," he angrily pouted, crossing his arms. "Bra, listen to me. Valentine's Day is not a big deal. It's really just a way for companies to sell more stuff. That's why they like to have a lot of stuff on TV that talks about it. To sell stuff. That's it."

Bra frowned. "You said it was about lovey-dovey stuff."

Trunks shrugged. "Yeah, kind of. Maybe a little. But seriously, it's about selling stuff."

"Is it supposed to be about selling stuff?" the bright young girl asked. "Or is it supposed to be about the lovey-dovey stuff?"

"Well, technically I guess it's supposed to be about the lovey-dovey stuff," Trunks relented.

"Then why don't we do anything for it?" Bra pressed on. "We love each other."

Trunks grimaced. "Bra, it's not that kind of love. It's, like, boyfriend and girlfriend kind of love."

"Like with Mommy and Daddy?"

Yes, the conversation had ended up right where Trunks had been dreading. He kept hoping that he was going to have a brain hemorrhage and get out of the talk, but it seemed as though he was not that lucky. "Sort of."

Bra's frown deepened. "What do you mean 'sort of'?" she asked.

"Look," Trunks quickly tried to explain, "Mom and Dad are, well, different. They don't do stuff the way other couples do. They kind of do things the way they want to."

"Don't they want to do something for Valentine's Day?" Bra questioned.

Trunks shook his head. "Not really. I've never seen them do anything for it before."

Considering her options, Bra crossed her arms and her legs. "Hmm…"

A pit formed in Trunks' stomach. He hated it when his sister got that look on her face. It was the same one their mother got right before she came up with something that was usually a very, well, unique idea.

Then Bra brought up an interesting point. "Does Daddy even know about Valentine's Day?"

Stunned, all Trunks could do was shrug. He had never actually given that any thought before. All his life he had been aware of the fact that Vegeta had only been on Earth a couple years longer than the teenager, but somehow he kept forgetting that the man was not necessarily familiar with all Earthly customs.

An almost wicked smirk came across Bra's face. "We should tell him about it!"

"What? No!" Trunks quickly intervened. "Bra, that's a terrible idea!"

"But why?" she asked. "Doesn't he need to know?"

"No, no he doesn't," Trunks argued. "Listen to me, Bra, Mom and Dad don't do lovey-dovey. Like, at all. Ever. That's just not what they do. Do you really think Dad needs to know that there's a day all about the lovey-dovey stuff he doesn't want to do?"

The frown returned. "What's wrong with him knowing?"

"Nothing," Trunks sighed. "There is nothing wrong with him knowing. I'm just saying he doesn't have to know, so why would we make a big deal out of this?"

"Well, does Mommy want to do anything for Valentine's Day?"

"I've never asked!" Trunks yelled. "Bra, promise me you will let this go!"

"No." Her tone made it very clear there was going to be no argument. Her legs uncrossed and she jumped down from the couch. "Excuse me, I have to go talk to Daddy."

"Now?" Trunks gawked. "You're going to talk to him now?"

Bra nodded firmly. "The TV said that Valentine's Day is only a few days away," she sternly pointed out. "That doesn't give us much time, does it?"

Already regretting both the question and the answer, Trunks asked, "Time for what?"

"Oh, you'll see." With that she took off down the hallway.

Trunks dropped his controller, his game completely forgotten as he chased his sister down the hallway. "No, I will not see," he called out, running after her. "What are you planning?"

Her laughter was almost maniacal as she raced down the hallway. Oh, she was getting an idea forming, and like all other members of her family, once an idea got in her head it was next to impossible to get it out. Unfortunately for her, she lacked her brother's speed and found herself grabbed and lifted off the ground before she reached her destination. "Quit it!" she yelled.

"Not until you tell me what you're planning!" her brother grunted, trying to make certain he neither dropped her nor crushed her. "Now spill!"

Thrashing in his arms, she shrieked, "Put me down!"

"No!" he retaliated.

"Yes!" she demanded.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"N…"

"What the hell is going on out here?"

Both siblings froze as their father bellowed at them. Bra was the first to recover, calling out, "I have an idea!"

"No, she doesn't," Trunks insisted, shoring up his grip. "She isn't going to bother you, we are going to disappear right now, and we can all go about our lives as though none of this ever happened."

Bra squirmed, still trying to escape her brother. "He's lying!" she called out. "I do to have an idea!"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at his two children. Though he had a sinking feeling about it, that morbidly curious part of his brain compelled him to ask, "What are the two of you talking about?"

Bra grinned. "Valentine's Day!"

Their father went rigid for a second before recovering. "Apparently the boy was right."

"Hey!" Bra yelled. "That's not fair! Now make him put me down and let me talk!"

Trunks huffed. "You really need to learn who's in charge here."

"And you really seem to want your fingernails painted pink while you sleep!" the little girl retaliated.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. Their threats were always the same. Trunks would threaten to behead her dolls. Bra would threaten to shave her brother's head. Trunks would say he would set her dresses on fire. Bra would say she would put makeup on him in his sleep and take pictures. They really needed to find new ways to extort each other. "Trunks, drop her but stick around. Bra, you have exactly one minute to explain whatever ludicrous idea you have."

Bra turned slightly to her brother as he lowered her. "Ludicrous?" she asked.

"Really dumb idea," her brother explained. "Talk fast and let us go."

Pouting, Bra brushed out her skirt. "You know what Valentine's Day is, don't you?"

The same headache that had plagued his son minutes earlier struck Vegeta full force. "I am aware of its existence, yes."

"And you don't do anything for Mommy for Valentine's Day?" the little girl accused.

"Neither of us does anything for that absurd day," he rationalized. "It would be ridiculous to."

Bra frowned. "Why is that?"

Seeing the vein sticking out on their father's forehead, Trunks decided to jump in. "It's because celebrating the relationship on that one day means on all the other days, it isn't special."

Crossing her arms, Bra glared at her brother. "I'm not talking to you."

"Maybe not," Trunks countered, "but I am talking to you!"

"Are we done here?" Vegeta demanded.

"No!" Bra insisted. "Daddy, Valentine's Day is a special day if you love someone, right?"

Vegeta glared at his younger child. "It is a human custom, not mine."

Calmly, she returned the glare. "Answer the question, please."

"Insofar as I am aware," he grit out, "yes."

"And you love Mommy, don't you?" she asked.

Vegeta looked as though he was going to have a stroke right there on the spot. "Bra…"

"You already know the answer to that one," Trunks intervened. He had been around long enough to know that his parents cared for each other, they just chose not to vocalize it all that often. "Keep going."

"So then," she surmised, "you should do something for her on Valentine's Day." With a cocky look on her face, she uncrossed her arms and lifted on hand, index finger extended as she imitated her mother's pose. "Don't worry about anything, Daddy, I'll go make a list of ideas and you can just pick your favorite." Calm as could be she turned on her heel and marched away, already scheming.

Warily Vegeta looked over at his son. "How bad is this going to be?"

Trunks put his hands on his hips and drew a slow breath. "Your four year old daughter is planning a romantic day for you to use to surprise Mom, who is almost as anti-Valentine's Day as you are, for said holiday. Oh, and all of her knowledge about this holiday comes from cartoons and jewelry commercials." He nodded slightly and gave his father a sympathetic pat on the back. "Sorry, you're doomed."

The older prince groaned and dismissed his son. As he turned back in the direction of his training, he swore to never let his daughter watch television again.

/

Bulma sighed as she shuffled through the stack of papers on her desk. Sometimes she desperately missed the days when she could get away with locking herself in her private lab for days at a time, just dreaming of and building whatever she wanted to. One more sigh came out as she heard the telltale sound of her office window sliding open. "Vegeta," she said, not bothering to turn around, "I know we talked about sneaking in a quickie this afternoon, but my schedule got full so we're going to have to make it…"

"Please stop!"

The scientist jumped to her feet and whirled around. "Trunks!" she hollered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Swearing to text you before I come in for the rest of time," he answered with a shudder. "And begging please, oh please, make sure it's Dad if you're going to talk like that!"

"Deal," Bulma agreed, also well embarrassed. "So why are you taking your father's approach of going through windows instead of doors?"

Trunks stepped all the way inside and closed the window behind him. "It's faster."

"Ah, true enough," she agreed. "So what brings you here, oh somewhat delinquent son of mine?"

"Your daughter is trying to kill your husband."

Groaning, Bulma sat on the corner of her desk. "What did who do that is going to end up with a death in the family?"

"Bra's writing up a Valentine's Day plan she wants Dad to follow," her son explained, "and she keeps asking him questions about your relationship."

Bulma felt her heart rate jump up. "Oh lord…" Bra still did not quite grasp how her parents differed from most traditional couples, and almost everything they swayed from fell well into the category of things Vegeta did not like to talk about.

"I've been jumping in when I can," Trunks went on, "but she just keeps going back to him. Last time I had to get Grandma to start making cookies and say she needed help because Bra was badgering Dad about, and I quote, 'How did you fall in love?'"

"Oh crap!" Bulma cried. Even Trunks did not know the full story on that one. Actually, only Vegeta and Bulma knew that full story. They both made damn sure no one else did. Trunks knew enough to know that it had been a rocky start, and that he had already been alive when his parents had gotten married. Bra, though? She knew none of it.

"Yeah," Trunks agreed. "So I am really here to beg for Dad's life on this one, because I can't distract Bra forever and if she keeps asking him questions at this rate, I think you'll be widowed by sunset."

Bulma quickly reached over to her intercom system and called her assistant. "Listen, I need you to clear my schedule for the next hour," she ordered. "I am taking no meetings, no calls. Make it happen." She turned to her son. "Take me to the girl."

Trunks wasted no time in grabbing his mother and sneaking her out the window, ignoring the pleas from the assistant who was begging not to have to do the impossible.

/

Bulma followed the scent of freshly baked cookies to her daughter. "Hey, Bra," she greeted.

Bra sat up a little. "Mommy?" she asked. "I thought you were going to be at work all day."

"Well, I got a break and I wanted to come see how you were doing," she said with a smile. She took a seat on the couch beside her daughter, helping herself to one of the cookies. In front of them, the television was playing another heart filled Valentine's Day episode of a cartoon. "So tell me, baby girl, what are you up to today?"

"Oh, nothing," the four year old said. "I'm just watching cartoons."

"Is that so?" her mother replied, leaning back and taking a bite.

"Yep."

"Hn." They sat in peace for a few minutes, simply enjoying cookies and watching the show. Every once in a while Bra would reach over to her far side, and while she tried to be sneaky about it, her mother could easily tell that she was scribbling something down. After the fifth time, Bulma leaned over. "Whatcha' doing over there?"

Bra dropped her pencil. "Nothing," she quickly answered.

"Uh-huh," her mother replied, clearly not buying it. Another little bit passed, and Bulma tried another tactic. "I never did like watching TV this time of the year."

Already reaching for her pencil, Bra looked over at her mom. "Really?" she asked. "Why?"

"Oh, it's all of this Valentine's Day stuff," Bulma dramatically sighed. "It's all so fake, and it's the same thing every year."

Bra frowned. "Really?"

Bulma nodded. "Really. On TV, all they ever do is buy girls jewelry or flowers or chocolate. It's like girls aren't allowed to like anything else. And they always show the boys having to do stuff for the girls. Why don't they ever let the girls do stuff for the boys?"

"Girls can do that?" Bra asked.

"Absolutely," Bulma answered. "Besides, I never liked how people are expected to do all these things for Valentine's Day, even if they have nothing to do with the couple. I mean really, why would you go out to a fancy dinner if you and your boyfriend love getting pizza? And why get two dozen roses if someone doesn't really like flowers?"

"Oh." Bra glanced down at the pad of paper beside her. "I didn't think of that."

"Yeah," Bulma casually pointed out. "That's why I've never really done the Valentine's Day thing. It always seemed kind of lame to me."

Bra looked at her frilly little socks. "Um, would you be mad if someone did Valentine's Day with you?"

With a smirk, Bulma reached for another cookie. "That is one of the best things about your Dad," she told her daughter. "I never have to worry about him wanting to do stuff like this. I mean, he's not big into most human traditions anyway." She took a big bite. "Actually, he doesn't do any Earth holidays unless we make him. I won't make him do it, so I don't have to worry about him doing it."

"Uh-oh."

Pretending she had no idea what was going on, Bulma asked, "What is it, sweetie?"

"Um, nothing," the little girl quickly said. She slid off the couch. On her way she grabbed her note pad and slid it under the couch cushion, a move her mother clearly saw. "Um, Mommy?" she asked. "Do you have time for me to pick out a pretty dress for next weekend?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "What's next weekend?"

"A good time to wear a new dress?" Bra feebly attempted.

"Right," Bulma sighed. "Well, I don't have a lot of time, but I suppose I can help you for a little bit." As they ascended the staircase, Bulma wondered if she had actually managed to talk Bra out of Valentine's Day. It had started to sound like it was working, but Valentine's Day was near the weekend, and they were still picking out dresses. If she was lucky, she would be able to get more clues before the day happened.

/

Bulma was dreading her return to her office. She had already known that leaving in the middle of a busy day was only going to make the rest of the week borderline unbearable. Not only had she fallen behind, but she was going to have less than two minutes to grab everything she needed and make it to what promised to be a very long and intense meeting with some very boring people. She was nearly jogging as she went through the main entrance toward her own office. She really wished that Vegeta or Trunks had been available to fly her back up, but according to her mother the pair had taken off for the afternoon to train together.

"Oh, ma'am," her secretary quickly said, jumping up and intercepting her, "just a moment, please."

Bulma huffed and faced the other woman head on. "Look," she firmly stated, "I know damn well that you had to rearrange a bunch of crap, and that the phone has probably been ringing off the hook with people demanding explanations. I'm sorry I sprung that on you. And I know that you probably have a million messages that you need to get me to read right away. I will get to them. But right now I can't have any interruptions because I need to get to the Mason meeting right now…"

"Actually, ma'am," the secretary delicately interrupted, "that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The Mason meeting has been postponed until tomorrow."

Tilting her head to the side, Bulma asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The Mason meeting," the secretary said again. "It had to be rescheduled. Apparently there was a transportation issue, and several key members will not be able to make it until late tonight. It was agreed that instead of holding it late tonight, they would do it at ten tomorrow morning."

"It's been put off?" Bulma demanded.

The secretary smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

"Huh." As she thanked her secretary and began to move for her office again, she found herself being stopped.

"Actually," the young woman said, "since you have a minute, I have a few things that should get to you quickly."

"Very well," the scientist replied through grit teeth. "You can give them to me in my office."

"Oh, and R and D called," the secretary went on, moving so that she was blocking her superior's office entrance. "Some guy named Scott, I think he's a temp, called up and said that they had some preliminary ideas that needed to be looked at by you as soon as possible."

Bulma could feel her stress level spiking again. "Fine!" she yelled. "Just move and…"

"I think I have a draft of that report you wanted here," the secretary kept going, looking through a folder full of papers that she was carrying. "If you just give me a second, ma'am, I can pull it out for you and…"

"MOVE!" Bulma finally bellowed. "I command you to get out of my way immediately!"

With a quick squeak the young woman did as ordered, muttering an apology as she did so. Furiously Bulma stormed by, clearly even more agitated than she had been upon her arrival. In her mind, she was swearing to every deity she had ever heard of. If one more thing went wrong that day, she was going to kill someone. She did not care who. Someone had to die. Beyond livid, she threw her office door open. There was a lot of work she still needed to get done, even if her meeting had been delayed. As she sat in her chair, she grabbed at the stack of papers that she had been busy with before her son had interrupted her. A green folder slipped to the floor, and she cursed furiously as she bent down to get it.

Then she froze. She had not noticed it when she sat down, but there was a small gift down by her feet. "What the hell?" she muttered, picking it up. She studied it carefully, unsure what to make of it. There was no card attached, nor was there a label saying who it was from. Bulma was a little wary about opening an unidentifiable package that was mysteriously left in her office, but she decided to go ahead and open it.

It was a USB drive. Curiously, Bulma plugged it in to her computer. She was surprised to see her son's image appear. "Hey Mom," the video greeted. "This is a part of a crazy idea your daughter had. If you like it, I helped her. If you don't, I had nothing to do with it."

Bulma laughed at her son's disclaimer.

"Anyway," the image went on, "Bra asked me to set up this video and give an introduction, which I have now done." He looked down to his side. "You're up, squirt." Trunks stepped aside, and Bra floated up and waved at the camera.

"Hi Mommy!" the little girl cheered. "So, I really wanted to help Daddy make this a special Valentine's Day for you, 'cause I thought Valentine's Day sounded like fun. Then Trunks told me that you two don't do Valentine's Day. That seems silly to me, since you and Daddy love each other. So I asked Daddy about what kinds of things you liked." That little pad of paper showed up, and Bra read her notes carefully. "I told Daddy that he should get you roses, but he said you don't like them, you like lilac and they aren't growing right now. So I told him he should take you out to a nice dinner, but he said that you don't really like going out to dinner because people keep taking your picture and they don't give you privacy and that you like pizza better, anyway." She turned a page. "I said he should buy you jewelry, but he said you pretty much have all of it already, and that you'd probably rather have your old tools than a new necklace."

Bulma smiled. So far, her husband had been right on all accounts.

"Then I said that he should get you chocolate, and he said that you already have a stash of milk chocolate with nuts in your office desk drawer, dark chocolate with nuts in your nightstand, and a few other stashes around the house."

Guess the secret's out on where I hide the good stuff, Bulma thought with a smirk.

"I tried to think of what other Valentine's Day stuff he could do for you," she went on with a frown, "but I don't have an answer yet. I'm going to go do more research, but I want you to know that I'm working on it. Love you, Mommy!"

Bulma smiled as the video blinked out, admitting that it was cute that her daughter was trying so hard. And damn, apparently Vegeta really did pay attention when she talked about little stuff she enjoyed. And where she hid food. As she reached to turn the drive off, the video blinked to life again.

"I'm back," Trunks greeted. "Okay, here's the deal: Bra is not letting this Valentine thing go, and Dad and I want to make her happy." He hesitated before admitting, "Okay, Dad wants her happy. I want her to shut up. Either way, we're working for her now. So here's the update. Bra had been ordered to distract you. I am going to go pick you up and drop you off with her, and she's going to keep you busy for a while."

Mission accomplished, Bulma thought with a sigh. Girl kept me going for the full hour.

"Now, I know that you have a busy day today," her firstborn explained, "but don't worry, I've already made sure that your afternoon schedule is clear. Trust me, your secretary is good at rearranging and, well, there's no way in hell those guys for the Mason meeting are going to be cleared for take off any time soon."

"Son of a bitch!" Bulma said, smiling at her son.

"Don't worry!" her son quickly assured. "I didn't do anything illegal. Well, sort of illegal. Okay, I took the engine apart into teeny tiny, but still functional, pieces. In any event, it's not going anywhere and they're going to have to find a new plane and they ain't getting here today. So yeah, day off."

Bulma chuckled. Though she rarely admitted such things to her friends, she usually found her son's antics hilarious.

"Okay, I'm up. See you soon." And with that, Trunks signed off. Bulma waited patiently for a few seconds, and sure enough Bra showed up on the screen again.

"You know, Mommy," Bra scolded, "you are not easy to keep busy. You think too fast. It was hard to get you to stay with me!"

Laughing, Bulma nodded. She had been trying to hurry their excursion along, and damn if Bra had not stayed in blow for blow and made sure that full hour got used.

"Anyway," the little girl went on, "I tried to get Daddy to tell me how you two fell in love, but, well…"

"Her annoying big brother kept interrupting," Trunks said, appearing in the background. "Keep it going, Bra."

The four year old pouted. "Anyway," she went on, "I said that if none of my Valentine's Day ideas were going to work, then what he really needs to do is whatever he did when you two first fell in love. And so we're doing the last part of our job right now."

Trunks leaned forward over his floating sister's shoulder. "He said we needed to buy him some time," he said, a cocky smile on his face. "By the way, that conversation took place about five minutes after Bra first brought up the idea."

"And we've been keeping you busy ever since!" Bra chimed in.

"Right down to the video," her son said. "See, we decided to throw this together to buy a little more time. Oh, and go easy on your secretary."

"Yeah," Bra agreed. "She's the one that's got to keep you distracted from your office long enough for Trunks to get this inside."

Slowly, Bulma glanced at her closed office door. It suddenly seemed so obvious.

"But here's the thing," Trunks went on. "Dad said that he couldn't pull off the first thing, whatever that was, because, well, he didn't tell us why."

"Yeah, I want to know," the little girl said to her brother, forgetting the camera momentarily. Thinking back, Bulma quickly figured out why. The first time they had started to look at each other differently, at least a little, Vegeta had damn near killed himself in one of her earliest gravity room models. Clearly there would be no deliberate repeat performances of that.

Trunks shook his head. "I don't. Anyway, we've just got one more thing to say." They leaned in to the camera and both said, "Happy Early It's-Not-Really-Any-More-Special-But-We're-Doing-Something-Anyway Day!" And the screen went black.

Before Bulma could figure anything else out, she watched an arm snake out from behind her and drop a half mutilated piece of machinery on her desk. "Your machines are broken again."

Bulma looked over her shoulder and smirked at her husband. "This really was one of the most common ways we used to interact, isn't it?" she giggled. Slowly she turned all the way to face him. "Thank you for a special early whatever that long name our kids called it day." As she began to lean in for a kiss, she found herself pausing. "Wait a minute." She whipped around again and grabbed the component on her desk. "This is from my original model."

"The second one," her husband specified. "I was indisposed when the first one was cleaned off the back lawn."

She lifted it up, carefully looking at it. "This piece is almost twenty years old."

Vegeta shrugged. "The girl insisted I get you something from the beginning."

"How do you even have this?" she asked, still marveling at her old work.

"You can have the girl help you figure it out next year," he replied with a smirk. "I'm holding you to that line you told her about the girls having to do stuff for the boys."

Bulma turned to him again, a shocked look on her face. "Next year?"

"So long as the brats insist," Vegeta told her. "Those brats just do not know when to let something go."

"Which is a total genetic fluke, I'm sure," his wife laughed. "After all, you and I get over stuff so easily." Leaning up, she kissed his cheek. "Well, I for one am glad right now that our kids don't know how to let stuff go."

Vegeta smirked. "As am I."