Things are getting busy as the holidays approach, so this might be my last update of 2017. Have a great Christmas!

She'd shut the TV off half an hour ago. Bulma was sitting at the dining room table, the room growing lighter as the sun steadily rose in the sky. A cup of coffee was sitting in front of her, and she stared at the wall straight ahead. Her mouth was shut, the room silent. All she could do was process what she'd listened to that had been reported about her. Rustling could be heard upstairs, and the Bluehead knew she wouldn't be alone for much longer. Still she stayed seated, bitterly letting her face fall into her hands for the hundredth time.

Suddenly a loud blaring noise filled the room, and it was enough to make her jump. Her heart pounding, the Bluehead blurted out an enraged curse. "Fucking ringtones!" She hissed, pulling her phone from her pocket. She was already on edge. She didn't need a sickeningly cheerful robotic tune to make things worse. But when she looked at the phone and saw Mrs. Brief's name on the screen she felt her spirit lifting slightly, and she clicked to accept the call.

"Bulma, darling, I just wanted to give ya a head's up!"

"Don't worry, mom. I know."

A sharp intake of breath could be heard on the other line. "Oh, deeear! You do? You want me to come over, baby? You know that mama and dad know the truth! We don't believe any of it for a second!"

Bulma was tapping her fingers on the table as Mrs. Briefs went into a long motherly spiel about keeping spirits up and not letting other peoples' opinions affect her. She listened to everything her mother had to say, but the words did little to sooth her mood. Her mind was elsewhere, even as Mrs. Briefs offered a cheerful message of encouragement. It was simply that the Bluehead was still too upset. All she could really focus on in that moment was the impending conversation she'd have to have with her Saiyan prince. Bulma couldn't find much comfort in anything until that task got crossed off her mental 'To-Do List'. When she found the opportunity to get a word in edgewise, Bulma chimed in. "Look, mom. Maybe you can come by later. But right now isn't a good time. I still haven't told Vegeta-"

"Told me what?"

She jumped. She'd been aware that Vegeta had been awake, but she hadn't heard him come downstairs. The Bluehead glanced at him over her shoulder. "Oh, would you look at that! Vegeta's here now! Gotta go!"

And before her mother had a chance to say anything else, Bulma clicked off the phone. She tossed it on the table, watching as it slid a few centimeters across the surface.

"What is it that you need to tell me?" The Saiyan asked. He walked deeper into the dining room and stood so that he could face Bulma without her having to turn around. He looked more serious than she'd grown used to in recent days, and she sighed.

"Maybe you should have a seat."

The Saiyan growled. "Don't dawdle, woman. What do you need to tell me?" Nevertheless, he took a seat across from her. Vegeta hated when secrets were being kept from him, and he was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. His mind was racing. It had gone to one place, and to one place only. They'd been doing it a lot lately. He knew what could happen when two mammals mated. There was proof of that sleeping in a crib upstairs…

Bulma sighed. "Normally, in situations like this, we usually would ask the other person to promise that they won't get upset. But I know that's a large thing to ask – impossible to ask from you."

The Saiyan clenched his jaw. He knew where this was going. He'd thought it strange that she hadn't gone into work like she'd vowed to do. The grim look on her face was pale and made her almost appear to be ill. The way she was speaking now confirmed it all. And he didn't appreciate this sugarcoating. He was going to get straight to the point.

"This next one shall not be coddled as much, I'll say that right now." He growled, tapping his index finger on the table as if to emphasize his words. "It's going into the gravity room as soon as it takes its first breath. And the tail is going to stay."

Bulma raised her eyebrows. "What?"

The Saiyan's teeth were still grinding together, but his voice lost some of its confidence when he heard her perplexed tone. "What."

The kitchen clock could be heard clicking as the two watched each other for a few moments. Finally and slowly, Bulma opened her mouth once more. "What… did you just say?"

It was obvious now that Vegeta had been wrong to make such an assumption. He furrowed his eyebrows and broke eye contact. "Nothing. Tell me what you needed to."

"No, wait. What in the hell did you just say?!" Bulma didn't like it when she was asking for an answer and wasn't getting one. She pointed a finger at the man in front of her. This twist of conversation was certainly making her forget about what she'd been upset about just moments earlier. Now the only thing on her mind was to get Vegeta to repeat himself, and to elaborate on what he'd been thinking. She had a feeling that she knew what he'd meant, but she wanted to hear it come out of his own mouth. "Tell me!"

"Damnit, woman! You're the one with the secret! You tell me!" Vegeta hated this. He hated it when his woman had the upper hand. How had he suddenly found himself in a position where he had to admit he'd miscalculated a judgement? He'd come downstairs to eat before he started his daily training session, and already there was a load of inevitable bullshit that was being dropped on him. How else could he feel besides irritated?

Bulma zeroed in on the brash tone of his voice and forced herself to forget about his slip of tongue. She shook her head and sat back in her seat, clearing her throat. "You know how last night I told you not to destroy anyone?" She began.

"And I did not make any promises." He reminded.

The Bluehead grinned. "Remember how nice our night was after that conversation? Didn't we have fun? Maybe we can have a second go before Trunks wakes up this morning!" Perhaps making him think of how often they'd been indulging in each others' skin would lessen the blow for him…

"The more you idle your way through our talk, the more evident it is that I'm going to get pissed. Now tell me. What in Kami's hell is going on!?"

Bulma sighed. "You know how we have tabloids here?" She bit her lip, unsure of exactly how to say it. She hadn't even been the one to do anything wrong, but somehow she was having to reap the hard end of it all. Why couldn't she just get a break?

The Saiyan nodded. "Those laughable books that you and your mother are always flipping through."

"Yes – though I wouldn't exactly call them books…" If Bulma still had long hair she'd been twisting it around her finger right now, a habit she'd developed long ago for when she was nervous. "Well, you know that we have tabloids and news stations… and they run stories about many things, which includes stories about celebrities – or, other well-known civilians…"

Vegeta nodded. "Although your planet has the lowest possible standards for their elites, I know. What does any of this have to do with me? Why would I care?"

"Well, it turns out that today they're talking about me!" Bulma said, trying to force cheer into her voice. If reminding Vegeta of sex wouldn't lessen the blow, perhaps she could play it off to be less severe than it really was.

"What do you mean? Why would they care to talk about you?"

"My family is pretty well known!" She couldn't help but to feel defensive. The Bluehead crossed her arms and sent an indignant "hmph!" in his direction, but her gesture didn't seem to have much affect on the man sitting in front of her.

"Right. Your ancestors are the most worthy of the elitists that I have encountered." The Saiyan was speaking matter-of-factly now, though he still seemed irritated about it all. "But what would they have to say about you in those books? Those stupid books you read seem to only concern themselves over how the elitists choose to dress their puny bodies."

"Vegeta – they're called celebrities here! Idols! Calling them elitists sounds kind of creepy." She slammed her hands down on the table. "And anyway, they aren't books! They're magazines! And none of that is the point! They were talking about me today, and they were also talking about you! And none of was they're saying is good!"

Vegeta scowled at Bulma's tone and slammed his own hands on the table. "Don't condescend me, woman! If you would have just spit it out when I asked you to then I'd know what the hell is going on!"

Bulma stood now, exasperated. "There's pictures of my face being broadcasted, and they're saying that you did it to me! Everyone's talking about me as if I'm being held prisoner and you're giving me daily beatings!" Her voice was trembling. Somehow it felt much worse to say it out loud, despite the fact that she'd been processing it for an hour now. She crossed her arms and turned her back to him. "There, I said it! Is that what you wanted!?"

"What?" She heard the chair being thrown back into the wall as the Saiyan stood. "What is it with you Earthlings and this fascination with mate abuse?!"

Bulma reared around, feeling as if her face was going to explode. Somehow it seemed that everything he said was making her feel worse – even more on edge. Her hands balled into fists. "We don't approve of that, okay? It happens, we can't stop it, but we don't like it! The fact that everyone thinks this is going on is a terrible thing!"

The Saiyan snarled and marched from the room. "The idea that this is something that occurs at all on your planet is proof enough that you all are an inferior race!" He barked, his voice dripping with repulsion. He stomped into the kitchen and she heard as he clicked on the TV. The reporter's voice erupted through the room, repeating the story that she'd already listened to several times that morning. She walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame, watching as paparazzi pictures of Bulma's bruised and swollen face flashed across the screen. They must have been taken several days earlier, when her skin had still been worse for wear. By now it'd been healed enough that she could easily cover any remaining discoloration with makeup. The images on the screen, however…

"Our sources tell us that the daughter of Capsule Corp Mogul gave birth to her son last year. After getting married during a private ceremony, she moved in with the father of her child, and has been living reclusively since then. Our sources tell us that, while no apparent harm has come to the baby, she herself lives each moment in fear. Note the gashes on her right cheek, which an unidentified individual has provided us images of."

Pictures of Bulma hanging laundry in her backyard were floating across the screen. It was obvious that someone had trespassed onto their property and took the images without being discovered. To make things worse, they had obviously been altered to exaggerate her bruising.

"Now," The anchor on the TV continued, "We've reached out for a comment from Mrs. Briefs, but we've yet to hear back. I don't know about you, but no comment is just as good as a confirmation. May we all hope that she is able to find help for herself. This is a developing story, and more information is to come as we receive it."

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. Watching the news reports had been the first she'd heard of any such allegation. There were so many inaccuracies in their report, and on top of it all when had anyone attempted to address contact her about this?

Vegeta was biting his lip, feeling as a vein began to throb in his forehead. He wasn't stupid. There was no way someone could have taken those images of his woman without him sensing their ki! The only way could have happened was if the photos had been taken while Vegeta had been away from home, training in the wilderness. They must have been weak enough to not raise any alarm. Once again his absence had resulted in avoidable conflict for his kin, and it was pissing him off.

He'd known that the beta male wasn't to be trusted! He'd known that nothing good would come from such a coward! Vegeta turned on his heel to send Bulma an enraged look. "I told you to let me kill that Beta Male, and now look what he's done!"

Bulma pushed herself from the doorframe, her arms behind her back. She was torn between lashing out and apologizing. It was Vegeta's right to be upset – he was being accused of a very terrible thing. And yet she resented the fact that she was suddenly being put on the defense. "I didn't know he was going to run off to the news and tell them this!" She'd given the boy the benefit of the doubt. She thought that made her a nice person – not a bad one. She shouldn't have to be defending that!

The Saiyan growled under his breath. He would have much preferred if the woman had simply told him that she was with child again. This was both so enraging and ridiculous that he didn't know how to handle it. His biceps trembled as he clenched his fists. He was superior to every single person on this planet, and yet they were speaking of him in such a ridiculing light. More than ever he wanted to just fly into the sky and wreak some serious vengeance on those smug little rodents. It would only take him to raise his hands and power up, and the clouds would be raining his revenge. They would all deserve it for the bullshit he'd been through!

And yet, he couldn't. He knew he couldn't go through with something like that, even before the thought had fully processed in his mind. It wasn't an option. Something about the thought of destruction showering upon the land that he'd spent the several years living in didn't sit right with him. He'd fought to protect this world - not tear it away. He enjoyed the mountains, the feel of the wind, the color of the sky when the sun was rising. There were many good things about this world. The creatures on this Earth just didn't deserve their own planet. They weren't fitting.

Vegeta didn't know what to do. On his home planet he had grown up with society groveling at his feet. His name was respected and admired, and nothing his family did could ever come into question. Never in a million lightyears would he have expected to be standing where he was now, on a relatively unknown rock, being scrutinized and degraded by a species that weren't worthy of licking the dirt from his toes.

How the fuck had the Prince of all Saiyans gotten here?

He felt a hand resting softly on his shoulder, and Vegeta looked up.

How long had he been lost in his thoughts?

Blue eyes were peering into his own, and it was enough to sober him from the agonizing rage that had been sweeping through his core. The homesickness he'd been experiencing suddenly washed away, and for a moment he'd nearly forgotten why he was so pissed in the first place.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you." Her voice came out soft, but he could tell that Bulma was fighting to keep her own self calm. "I never wanted this for either of us."

He sighed and placed a hand over her own, keeping it to his shoulder as he gazed into her eyes. He'd been mentally searching for a reason – a reason that he'd had gone through so much in his life. Why did the pestering never seem to end? He wanted a reason for why he had subconsciously shaped his way of thinking, a reason that he had been ripped from his home land at a young age, had lived as a glorified slave. A reason for going so far, going through so many changes, and for ending up where he had. And just when he thought he couldn't search anymore, she'd been there to give it to him. It was her.

"I'm sorry this is going on." She was saying now.

Vegeta sighed and let go of her hand. He brought his palm up to her face, cupping her cheek. His thumb massaged into her skin, and he gave her a smirk that almost seemed sarcastic when it came from him. "I'm glad that your wounds have nearly healed."

Bulma smiled back and nodded, closing her eyes and nuzzling into his hand.

His thumb still rubbing into her cheek, skin still against skin, she felt that there was nothing wrong. She knew things were going to be alright, but there would be quite a bit of messy waters to tumble through in the meantime. It had been awhile, but this wouldn't be the first time that some type of scandal had befallen her family. Those types of things just happened when your last name was well known. But, Vegeta, he wasn't used to the chaotic prying of Earth tabloids. He didn't particularly know what was coming! She felt for him, she really did.

And so she stepped away from his touch and opened her eyes, giving him another smile. "There's breakfast on the stove. Want some?"

The Saiyan chuckled. "Eating? At a time like this? I have other things on my mind."

And with that he turned to leave the room. Bulma watched him go with silent approval. It went without saying that he was going to be spending the next several hours in the Gravity Room. She would have gone for another tumble in the sheets if he'd suggested it. But if attacking some training robots was how he wanted to blow off his steam, she was okay with it.

Finding herself alone for the second time that morning, the Bluehead ran a hand through her hair. She poured herself another glass of coffee and walked back to the table. It went without saying that this was going to be a long day.