Set sometime after the Tournament of Power. I rarely write in this fandom, so I can't promise this is up to bio-android levels of perfection. Still, I hope you enjoy!
Dragon Ball Super and its characters do not belong to me. All rights go to their respective owners.
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Warning for rabid abuse of parenthesis. Unbeta'd, so apologies for any mistakes.
When Bulma entered the nursery to find her daughter in the arms of the father, he'd expected he'd have to ward off comments.
Vegeta found himself entirely unsurprised to be proven right immediately.
She barged in to rush over and paw all over him and Bulla as though the scene was the cutest she'd ever witnessed, before she pulled back with sudden suspiciousness.
He bore the scrutiny for a whole of three seconds before trying to get her to just say her inevitable piece.
"What is it, woman?"
That did the trick, of course.
"What is it?" Bulma drew herself up tall. "This is my child's room, what sort of reasons do I need to be in here?" She paused, eyebrows drawing together before she tried to hide her smirk from him. "The real question is what you're doing. Do you hide in here often when you think I won't catch you?"
As much as he'd never answer an affirmative to her teasing, she was unfortunately rather correct on that. Vegeta didn't exactly like to make a scene when he set aside a few minutes from his training to look at his new daughter. A part of that was just to avoid Bulma catching him doing so: she'd either make far too big a deal out of it and think it meant he wasn't planning on returning right to training after so she could be clingy, or she'd make far too big a deal out of it from the other end of things and scrutinize his every handling of a tiny creature he really had no idea how to take care of.
At the moment, it was the former. At this rate, he'd have to leave Bulla back here with her (now-seated and by that, he meant squished against him) mother and get out of what was hardly the most comfortable situation. There was only so much teasing about 'softness' he felt like taking. It was bad enough she gave him such attention over being better than Trunks at changing a diaper.
Instead of that chance arising, Bulma ceased the teasing for the moment to instead look down at the infant, going just as quiet as the father. Hopefully, she'd stay that way. He might find it more tolerable to sit here with the infant if she didn't start making a big vocal deal about it.
Shockingly, she didn't start up with that immediately.
It was horrifically asinine, this playing at domesticity. He really should detest it.
Whatever the case, the domestic moment ended when Bulma decided to prod at him for some sort of admittance or something.
Dammit woman, I'm not going to coo at her for your amusement just because you're trying to make me-
The Saiyan's thoughts swerved off that train of thought when Bulma changed subjects.
"What's your mind on, anyways?"
It was thinking about how tiny Bulla was.
It was focusing on wonderings of whether Trunks had been this fragile when he was an infant too.
It was thinking about the silly amount of joy in her eyes (her mother's, he saw, but there was a sharp angle to her face even now that was clearly from him and the tail that Bulma hadn't had time to remove yet most definitely hadn't come from Bulla's mother's side of the family) when the infant looked at her father, as if expecting he'd smile or something in return.
What he said instead was as blunt as it was non-sequitur to the listener:
"Her name."
"What about her name?" Bulma asked with a tone just bordering what could turn into screechy defensiveness. She was always so easily offended.
Nothing was wrong with it. In actuality, he thought it was an...okay name. It just was one Bulma picked and officiated before any word could get put in otherwise and he wanted, with this kid, to be involved enough to pass off a Saiyan name. It wasn't like he could trust Kakarot to pass that heritage off to his offspring, now could he.
This wasn't Trunks; he wanted a part in this rather than planned on leaving Bulma to deal with the infant on her own. Still, after Trunks, why would she assume that of him enough to ask him if he had any input on his child's name before picking one on her own?
Vegeta grunted.
"One of them should have had a Saiyan name. It'd let the royal line continue."
Nothing to say about Bulla be a fine name, nothing to say about planning to do better with this planned one compared to the then-unwanted Trunks. He couldn't just let her ego get too fanned (or he just couldn't say it out loud, couldn't admit any of it, and wouldn't).
"I'm not about to change any names now," Bulma said as she crossed her arms, an undoubtedly unneeded dramatic. "They've got their papers already,-" (an apparently annoying feat for her, as she ranted on multiple occasions over having to fake legal papers for the alien father) "I happen to like the names,-" (she'd better, she'd picked them) "and do you really expect Trunks to just accept and adjust to changing his name at 14 to Vegeta Junior?"
While that would likely have been the name chosen had he had that choice back at the boy's birth, the fact was he'd denied choosing anything involving the infant at all. Not the name, not the responsibility, not the fatherhood. The latter would come, but far too late to be involved in the naming process. It'd come after working with the disaster of a future son (or so he'd thought and treated the boy with at the time and made the effort to be 'better' the recent time the man had time traveled back again) (it was weird to think of that word, that idea of being better; weird to, since such a thing implied a need for improvement and Vegeta never liked to think his character was weak enough to need improving upon) he had and watching that version of Trunks die. It'd come after Kakarot died to Cell and Vegeta had remained on Earth almost purposelessly without enemies, getting roped into human traditions like marriage only then.
Besides, Trunks was no Vegeta; that name's line would've been unfitting with his continuation.
No Vegeta in royal history had ever ascended to the rank of the legend at a measly eight years old. That was purely a Trunks characteristic (like that bad attitude or purple, of all colors, hair) and one his father was proud of (whether he said it vocally or not).
But this new child was a different story than his firstborn. Trunks had begun his life without his father being interested at all in him carrying on the Saiyan line with some human fling. Bulla came years after Trunks; Bulla came after he'd come to accept a place on Earth and at Capsule Corp itself with a human for a mate and Planet Vegeta nothing but a memory. A memory he'd preserve, dammit all, even if he'd not pursued reviving the planet itself. If he was the last of the purely Saiyan royal line, he'd at least have that line's hybrid continuation be recognized as officially as it should be.
He wasn't there for Trunks's birth and hadn't wanted to be. But he'd been here for this one and surely that counted as enough to let him give the kid her Saiyan heritage.
"I wasn't saying to change anything for either of them," he growled. His arms had gone a little tighter around Bulla; it was a tension that Bulma noticed, tilting her head to stare before losing the attitude when she looked back to him. The reason for his tensing- whatever it was, it wasn't like he could say what stupid human emotions played with him- was seemingly transparent to her, even as it wasn't for him.
"Did you have a Saiyan name in mind all this time and never bother to tell me?" she asked.
Why should she care if he did?
"Why would I tell you?" Vegeta shot back. His wife immediately circled through expressions of offense again and she put a hand forward to shove at his shoulder.
It was hilarious, the power difference between a human's strength and his own.
It was more hilarious, though only in irony rather than humor, how his Bulma struck the instinctual chord of holding power regardless of her complete and utter lack of fighting strength. She was fearless and pushy and quick to dish out as much rage as she wanted to verbally as if she had any power to back it up.
The joke of it came in how everyone around her treated this rage as if it did have power backing it up. Himself included, somewhere along the way.
Unsurprising, really. Saiyans went for mates that could go head to head with them and Bulma could, in ways outside her punches and slaps holding any sort of pain.
"You ass," Bulma said after a moment. She'd already stopped shoving at him by now. Probably out of mind for not actually moving the baby around too much. "You're supposed to tell me things. I'm your beautiful wife."
See? He really didn't need to compliment her or apologize for things done to her and Trunks before that made him feel uncomfortable now when her ego was so untouchable as is. It wasn't like he wanted her to do that obnoxious eyelash flickering and wheedling tone when bragging about herself anymore than she already did (right?).
Vegeta grunted again in reply, head turned away as soon as the huffing finished.
Bulma bristled only briefly before he could hear her sighing.
"I meant it," she muttered. "You really could just talk about things instead of being a stubborn jerk that never shares an opinion til after it's already been hurt."
He wasn't hurt. What sort of weakness did she think he had?
There was a hand on his arm, up just inches from where Bulla lay safe in the crook of an elbow. It was startling and stupid and he didn't shrug it off.
"So you wanted to give one of ours a Saiyan name?" Bulma asked from somewhere very close to his shoulder. Vegeta let his head turn slightly towards her if just to indicate he was listening. That alone was pretty good on his part. It was a pointless conversation, considering she'd already named both offspring; that he was willing to sit through it instead of pointing out its pointlessness had to be worth something. It had to be more than he'd done back when it was Trunks that was the age of the child in his arms and he'd have been caught dead bothering to touch, let alone hold, that toddler.
Sometimes he realized he left a very low bar for himself and the feeling stung his pride.
"Heh..."
He could feel, rather than see, Bulma laugh where her mouth met his skin. At least it wasn't her cackling yet. This was a softer laughter.
Maybe she was about to patronize him.
"I didn't- Hm. You know...some human cultures have multiple names. A personal name, a family name, and any number of middle names."
She drifted off around then. Vegeta thought quickly to Kakarot and his insistent Earth name; there were only two, weren't there? Kakarot, of course, didn't represent everything Earth had to offer. Whatever.
"Do you have a point or am I assuming too much of you?" he said. It earned him another punch to the shoulders. The same fists flexed back after as Bulma gently lowered one to brush the tiny sprout of blue hair on their daughter's head.
"We could always add another name for her," she offered.
For her, she said. But Bulla wouldn't know better. Bulla was too young to even know what was happening overhead. This wasn't for her, it was for him and for the names he'd spent time debating over that never got debated over by Bulma herself before a final choice was made.
"There could be any number of names? That seems rather overboard. Not to mention pointless when a single name suffices. How typical of humans," he scoffed, as though that could hide the happiness he got at the idea of his daughter wearing a Saiyan name with pride.
"Well it doesn't have to be a list," Bulma frowned. "Most settle with three or maybe four. It's hardly outlandish to comprehend. Just think of Mr. Satan, he's got three. Nobody finds that weird."
While he did vaguely remember that, Vegeta hadn't bothered to learn either of the blowhard's additional ones. He had no desire to change that fact now.
"You'll make me take back any wish to add a name Saiyan or not if it's going to be compared to that buffoon."
By now, he'd finally shifted him and Bulla back to a more comfortable position rather than continuing to keep his back to the other. If Bulma took that as an opportunity to lean in close, that was clearly her own business.
"So you are willing to try it," she winked before growing serious again. "Alright. Good. If it clearly matters to you-" (Just hurry up and say your piece!) "-then let's go for it. What were you thinking?"
There was no reason to feel self conscious about any of the options (they were superior to human names anyways!), yet Vegeta inexplicably stalled regardless before verbalizing his top choice.
"Echalotte."
"What?" Bulma broke into cackles (honestly, they were such a headache and he'd say it, he would). "That's horrible!"
Vegeta bristled.
"It's a traditional and acceptable Saiyan name!"
She was still laughing.
"You have no taste." Vegeta shook his head.
Predictably, she took that as her cue that it was her turn to bristle. Still, moments later, he'd still not stomped off and they returned to looking at the child being talked over. Bulma's mouth twisted sideways.
"Well, it's a middle name I suppose," she started, "It's not like anyone will have to hear it."
How was that supposed to work? Everyone on this planet seemed to know all of Mr. Satan's names and nicknames, titles and hobbies and quotes and a disgusting amount more.
Still, if this would be 'hidden', at least...At least it'd be there at all. Evidence he was involved this time. Evidence that the Saiyan royalty continued on.
"Why would that be a problem?"
Bulma gave him a Look that clearly implied he should know better. Vegeta shoved down irritation.
"A teenage girl with that name? Please, she'd get so many comments! No teenager wants to feel embarrassed," she said with a casual wave of a hand, as if Saiyan heritage was something to be embarrassed over. He was rather glad he never met the woman when she was a teenager, if this is what she thought they'd be like.
"As if names like Bulla or Trunks won't!" Vegeta shot back.
They were, unsurprisingly, on about that for a good while.
Bulma Briefs was nothing if not efficient in the jobs she took on. It was less than a day before she'd gotten the change no one would likely ever see had been made.
It didn't matter, in the end, if no one else saw it or not. It could stay hidden from attention and still matter enough for what it stood for.
To Vegeta, it stood for proof that Frieza hadn't won; the genocide hadn't gotten rid of the Saiyan lineage. He'd survived and so they survived as well, hybrid or not.
To Bulma, well...She'd always thought he could be a good man. This just stood for an example of that. The Vegeta she'd met at twenty-nine wouldn't have stayed around enough to even catch a look at his child, let alone put effort into recognizing they were his heirs when they shared human blood.
Bulla Echalotte Briefs. It was halfway decent at getting both parental heritages recognized, at least.
Dammit all, but Vegeta was going to be content with that mediocrity, wasn't he.
AN- Thank you for your time!