Author: Gold Cherries

Rating: M

Arc: Trunks

A/N: Special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review, it really boosts me to write. I've always wrote for enjoyment and knowing others appreciate and enjoy my writing means a lot to me.

oOoOo

"Mm Vegeta you're quiet tonight." Bulma's words tantalising against his ear.

Vegeta rolled in the small bunk to pull the beautiful women close to him, his tail wrapped softly around her small waist, the back of his hand caressed her cheek.

Beautiful, there was no other. He thought in the back of his mind, seeing her soft lips pull into a smile as she giggled. But that action reminded him precisely of the problem.

"Our son."

"Wha! What about him? Has something happened to Trunks?" The female fighting to get up.

"No." Vegeta groaned, stupid woman, "Our son is fine."

Big blue eyes were narrowed, his mate sat up now from where they'd been cuddling, "Buuut?"

His nose crinkled, "I feel there is a problem."

"Has he been complaining? I thought you were spending a lot of time with him?"

"I am, as much as possible around royal duties and the war issues."

A pale hand rubbed up his bare arm, "Tell me more Vegeta,"

"When the brat came, he'd smile and blush and carry on like your emotional race do, he'd yell at me-"

"Just because Trunksie isn't yelling it isn't a bad thing. My baby rarely ever would yell back home."

"Yes but now the brat doesn't even smile, he doesn't ask questions, the past three days I don't think he's even looked at me."

"Oooh." Bulma's lips were tilted down, "That doesn't sound right, but how can he not look at you? Aren't you right there? He tends to not talk when he's upset or angry. I'd say it's a teen thing, but he's done it since little."

"I'm not being harsh, I help him train, I think he enjoys it as he tries hard. He goes and studies saiyan heritage, he eats, sleeps. He's doing what most first class saiyan children would do."

Bulma smiled, "Have you asked him what's wrong?"

"Tch there's no point, everything shall be wrong, he's saiyan, you're not there…the list is endless. I don't want to argue with him more than I must."

"No no no, earthlings need to talk about their problems. I complain to you don't I?"

"Ugh too much."

"Well Trunks needs to talk about things on his mind, at least half as much as I."

"Half? The child doesn't speak at all!"

"You know when Trunks was too hard to deal with as he was worrying or dwelling or something and wouldn't just tell me. I'd just walk up and hold him. Crush him real tight and tell him he can talk to me."

Vegeta stared, "What is that ridiculousness meant to do, if I ask and he doesn't tell, a hug won't solve anything. He's bothered by affection. Panicked, as humorous as I find it, it does not seem in his nature to be tactile like the saiyans with family."

"You'll see." His mate winked, "It's the magic trick. Just make sure to listen to whatever he says, it'll be exactly what's on his mind."

"Hmph at this point any option is to be considered. He will not be a good prince if he stops interacting."

Bulma leant down kissing him, the pliable soft lips had him smirk, "So weak." Vegeta said with a chuckle.

"Mm, Bra is missing you honey. How long till the war ends?"

She always had to bring up this topic, it'd be years. Bra would be an older child like his son Trunks.

The moonlight skinned women, slid back down in bed beside him, snuggling up. "It'll be ok Vegeta, I'll win and everything can be at peace, you'll have Bra and me back. I'll help you deal with Trunks. Everything that you want, I'm not sure how well our son will cope when learning he's the heir to the throne."

"Poorly from what I understand of his temperament."

"He might decide to care about his saiyan blood then. It will be hard to ignore knowing an entire planet is looking up to you."

"Hn. He also might freak out and run away, no I'll tell him in time woman."

Bulma sighed, "Just be careful…Trunks is more intelligent than you realise. Don't let him work it out himself."

"One thing at a time woman." Vegeta said, she had to lecture him constantly it was the worst trait of earthlings.

oOoOo

The ceiling.

He was growing too familiar with the carved symbols spread out over his bed, his eyes half-mast. Trunks lips parted in a soft exhale, being a saiyan wasn't close to his opinion a month ago.

What could he describe being saiyan like?

A saiyan child anyway…

Adored was one word. Parents loved their children, he understood that now, it felt uncomfortable to put monster and affectionate parent into the same race description.

Controlled was the next word, every second of his life was organised in a regime with military precision to optimise his wellbeing. He had no time to be just himself.

Warrior would be the next, saiyans drilled into their young how to fight and how to get better and better. He groaned rolling to his side to stare at the white bands locked around his wrists, eyes trailing down the bloody gorges from today's training. He'd advanced in his fighting style faster here than with any other teacher he'd been with. His dad and Goku were fighting geniuses.

This life…it was painfully repetitive, day after day, exactly the same, rise, eat, train, bath, eat, nap, eat, learn, eat and bed. Over…and over and fucking over again. The training would be so harsh he'd be shattered and collapse in bed and he found to his dismay he'd sleep with no effort at all, his father would let him sleep into his education time, getting him up two hours before the awful 1730hrs bedtime so he'd eat before having him go back to bed and then…he'd stare at the ceiling for hours. The two times he'd tried to get out of bed to do things in the room, he'd seriously regretted. Getting a flogging from a saiyan parent was not cool.

He flipped back onto his back, huffing. "I hate you ceiling," Trunks muttered out loud to himself.

He wished he could tell the time, if he was able to get up yet or not from his nap? Or was it too early. Which he wasn't risking, so instead he stared at the door, waiting for his Father to check on him. So he could eat and then go listen to something Turles considered important, right now he'd been learning about all the first class families in the saiyan lines. Big wigging and connections he supposed.

He heard a sound and he jerked up in bed. "Dad?"

"Brat you're awake."

Ugh yeah, he'd been so for like…forever. He thought in his mind, eyes having narrowed a little, but he nodded crawling to the edge to stand up, stretching feeling the light filling the entire room as the blackout curtains were pulled open by his powerful father.

Goku entered balancing an array of dishes to sit out on the table. "Morning Master Trunks, you look er…well not well rested." He saiyan tapped his chin, beaming, "But you look ready to finish the day."

Trunk's shoulder's sagged, "Yeah." He agreed. "Thanks." He paused letting his father fuss with his hair, blowing some strands out of his eyes, before escaping the affection to drop before the food before him. The smell made his belly clench, it would taste good, like always.

Goku just as quick as he came disappeared and Trunks started to shove the food in his mouth, having done this for so many weeks, he didn't even think about it.

"Trunks."

"Yes." He answered around his mouthful of meat, eyes not glancing his Dad's way.

"Is there something wrong?"

He paused from taking another scoop, focusing on the colourful meal. "Mm." He thought about all the answers he could give, but his Father's demand that he fulfil his duties as a saiyan son, had him sigh. "No. I'm ok." Going back to eating.

"Brat concentrate!"

His brow crinkled, huh? "Ow! Fuck dad don't." He clutched at the hand now crushing his face forcing him to look into the onyx black gaze of his father.

"What's wrong with you!" The deep words had a primal edge and he flinched half dragged over the table his father now crouched close by his side, their faces far too close for his own comfort.

"W-Wrong? I haven't done anything wrong have I?" He squirmed, hissing when the saiyan let go, nursing his jaw, glowering at the alien.

"You don't talk at all, you don't even get emotional and shit. What happened?"

He grimaced, looking away.

"Look at me." The whisper dark and he hurriedly glanced back.

"You don't like me being lame, I'm trying to be good."

"There's good and miserable brat. What is so poor that you act like a rock."

He spluttered, "R-rock?" He shot to his feet snarling, "I'm not an idiot." He tapped on his fingers, "I eat, sleep, bath and train…oh and learn." He gave a sardonic smile, holding his hand out with his five fingers. "That's my life, you told me I have to do it, so I do it. Now you're pissed at me?" His eyes itched, tears threatening to rise up.

"Every other saiyan brat completes those basic tasks, you did it back with your mother and here you're sullen, can't even look me in the face."

With his mum what a joke. "Tell me what else you want me to do. I'll fucking do it, talk, look, act emotional whatever. You were right Dad, I've learnt more fighting skills here on Vegeta-sei than any other place, I'm glad. I keep getting better, I can feel it."

"I want the problem, not statements."

Trunks folded his arms.

"Tch, I'm following your mother's idiocy."

"Mum?" There a yelp and Trunks found himself crushed inside the warm arms of the saiyan. His skin immediately growing hot. "D-Don't, leggo. Dad" He squirmed, feeling the saiyan's nose in the hair above his ear.

"When you tell me your issue then, I'll let you go, foolish child."

He gritted his teeth, trying to claw his way free, forced to give up when his Father just embraced him tighter, he felt so stupid. Vegeta didn't let go, fifteen minutes later he just stood there in the embrace his forehead resting on his dad's shoulder.

"You going to tell me now?"

He could feel the tears dripping down his cheeks, "I-I" He was hiccupping now….awesome. Just fucking great. How pathetic could he look to his warrior dad? He couldn't rub his eyes, arms pinned to his sides, his shoulders shook in his stifled tears. "I'm just…so bored." The words breaking in the silence of the room. The arms loosened around his body and his heart raced, lifting his face up, hands grabbing the front of his Father's armour. "It's ok! It's nothing see, so why I didn't say anything. Don't be pissed with me." His words ran into each other. Flinching when his father grasped the side of his face, dark eyes slanted.

"What is so different brat?" Vegeta's voice was low, he didn't know if he was angry, it was impossible to tell.

He couldn't even see properly with the amount of tears clouding his vision and Trunks bit at his lower lip, gaze having fallen to his father's chin, not able to withstand the intensity of the saiyans dark eyes. "Everything. I know…mum said she did things, b-but I've never had a bedtime in my life, naps…eating at certain times never. It's so weird, all of it. I can do it though, you said all saiyans my age do so. I don't want you to be just…" He trailed off not wanting to say disappointed. "If I'm g-good you said I can speak to Prince Vegeta and maybe he'd think about not attacking the weak nations. Didn't mean to act weird Dad. I like the training it's not boring."

Arms curved back tight around him, Vegeta chuckled, rubbing his back. "Stupid brat." He pushed him back abruptly, Trunks stumbled, a hand caught his shoulder and Vegeta rubbed the tears from his face, ignoring the fact they were replaced straight away. Trunks dragged back to the table. "Sit."

He dropped in the seat, scrubbing at his face, not able to even bare to look to his father.

Vegeta leant forward, his chin in his palm studying him, "Tell me what you miss of your normal day."

"Um…inventing." He sniffed attempting to look more presentable, pushing hair back from his nose and damp cheeks. "Talking to people, I helped heaps with the war, course I couldn't now but I only see you, Goku and Turles. The rest of my life is this room and sleeping. I think humans need less sleep than saiyans, cause I lay awake too much."

"Less sleep, less food, earthlings are considerably efficient if not being such weaklings.

"Sorry Dad. I'll be better and not complain."

"I can't have my brat bored," Vegeta muttered.

"Huh?" He looked to his father who'd drawn back, arms folded, a smirk hinted at Vegeta's lips.

"Do not think that having a cry shall make me change what is best for you."

Trunks wished he could disappear, 'have a cry', how embarrassing. If he didn't go and hug him to death he wouldn't get so bleh. Trunks scowled,

"Your mother and I need to have a serious chat about her trait for lying. You have been brought up with no routine to speak of, if what you say is true.

Trunks winced, "Yeah…but it worked ok."

"Tch, I shall make changes to your day, your bed time shall be 1830hrs, you may invent in this time. You will need to make a list of what things you require, if I find you are making anything for the war. This will be revoked. I will arrange child matches and you will meet and eat with different people. This will be good for you. Your naps, eating, training and education will remain. If you are growing too tired, I will bring back the sleep your missing and alter something else so you can still fuss with those strange gadgets."

A smile spread across his lips, "Really?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, "I don't make false statements."

"Yes! Thank you Dad." He could invent again, it'd been so long, he laughed picking up his spoon to eat. The regime was there, but his Saiyan father had edited it just for him, the more he knew about his Dad the harder it was not to think he was awesome. "Since I'm not gonna run away or nothing, can you tell me more about yourself Dad? Mum kept it such a big secret, even your race, you don't say much either."

Vegeta smirked, "That is because you hate the saiyans, why discuss matters of such hereditary with you?"

"Hey…I don't hate you. You're different."

"Naïve child." Vegeta eating his own meal, "You are aware you're an elite aristocrat, aristocrats help the royals, how does that make you feel."

Trunks nose crinkled, "I'm never helping them, they're psychopaths."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, "Until you're mature, I refuse to speak of adult responsibilities with you."

"I'm a genius Dad, if they didn't kill people maybe I'd help the royals, I'm smart you can talk about any of your responsibilities."

There was a chuckle and nothing else.

Trunks huffed, the happiness of his new routine stopped his annoyance and he grinned. "So how did you fall for mum? Saiyans don't mate aliens right? Bet you were in shit."

"Your mother bewitched me, a dream ended up a reality, no saiyan would dare lecture me on my mate preferences."

Trunks laughed, "So mum was just way hot. Not so bad reason, she'll be back here soon huh."

"When one side of the war wins."

Trunks sighed, "Sucks." He thought about all the strategies he'd implemented, how much was left of the Cold Empire. "Wish I could see mum like you do each night, it's not fair."

"Hn…life isn't brat. Just be patient."

He groaned, but didn't disagree, least he had his dad with him.

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Next time: Social Match Making for Trunks