"Remember," Bulma said. "We are supposed to be calm."

She was sitting with Vegeta in her bright yellow helicoptor, Trunks fastened in the back seat. They were in the garage, and she was gripping the controls before takeoff. She took a deep breath – in and out – and turned to the saiyan sitting beside her. His arms were crossed in his trademark fashion, peering out the windshield straight ahead. "You should consider your own words." He replied, not bothering to look at her as he spoke. "You sound terrified."

The Bluehead forced a smile when he said this. She pressed the ignition, shaking her head as the helicopter powered to life. "I can't say this is the most exciting thing I've ever done." She'd been mentally preparing herself for this moment all day. A million different what-if scenarios had been playing through her head, and the fact that the night was going to be so unpredictable was scaring the hell out of her. "There might be a crowd to greet us when we arrive." She added, as if Vegeta hadn't already made the assumption himself. Letting out an audible gulp, the Bluehead clicked another button on the dashboard, which sent a signal into the garage. A second later, and a loud sound could be heard as the roof above them began to slide back, revealing a light blue sky above their heads. Slowly, the vehicle began to rise up off the concrete. And, a moment later, they were off.

.

"I hate crowds." Bulma sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt and peering out the window. They'd just landed on a helipad outside of Nobun's, the most famous restaurant in all of West City. Just as she'd predicted – and because she'd given an "anonymous" tip in order to ensure that they would be seen – a large mob of paparazzi were anxiously awaiting their arrival. They were shouting things as they gathered around the vehicle, waiting for the family to make their appearance. "There's so many of them…"

Vegeta, who had been considering the amount of people that were closing in on them, could hear the unease in her voice. Feeling on edge himself, he turned to place an assuring hand on her thigh. "I'm here." He replied, giving her a firm squeeze. "If anyone tries to touch you, I'll destroy them."

The feel of his palm alone had done wonders to sooth her anxiety. And when she heard his words, Bulma let out a soft giggle. "Remember – we need to stay calm." She said, pushing his hand away playfully. "The more normal we act, the sooner they'll forget about everything."

"I'm always normal." Vegeta scoffed. He turned, looking back out at the crowd. "It's the rest of these idiots that are… strange. Hell, they're abominations. Look at them all, Woman! They're like rats awaiting breadcrumbs. I didn't know you had this level of power over your people!"

She let out another giggle, and Vegeta couldn't deny that he enjoyed the sound of it. He'd been half-joking with his words, but he was glad that they worked to subdue her blatant stress. After a week of such tension in the air with everything that had been happening as of late, getting out of the house felt – well, good. It was a bit of a relief be doing something so very different.

Even if the two of them did hate crowds…

"But, Vegeta, seriously… Please don't hurt anyone tonight." Bulma continued, not believing for a second that her words would do any good. His actions would be his own decision, and she knew it. "Even if it's justified; if you so much as growl at someone, it'll be all over the news tomorrow. They'll jump on any slip-up you make, and they'll use it as fake evidence to support all the rumors that they've been spouting."

"I hate this planet." The saiyan announced, as if he hadn't already mentioned this countless times before.

Bulma grinned. "I know you do. And I hate crowds! So, tonight we can both be unhappy! We'll have something in common! It'll be great - but please, just don't hurt anyone. Okay?"

"I won't make any promises." Vegeta rolled his eyes. "If I need to destroy someone then I will. But I have enough sense to know how to behave."

"Of course!" Bulma was now managing to somehow nod and shake her head at the same time. The saiyan seemed to be in better spirits than she'd expected. She took a deep breath, grabbing for the handle of the door. "Here goes nothing… man, I hate crowds!"

As soon as she stepped out of the helicopter she heard a rush of camera shutters and racing feet. Blinking back lights that were popping all around her, she turned to pull open the back door so she could unclasp Trunks. She could hear her name being yelled from all directions, and the Bluehead was suddenly feeling very claustrophobic. It was as if stepping outside the helicopter had equated to jumping into a tank of hungry sharks! She'd expected there to be a mob of anxious photographers when she'd given them a tip, but this? This was ridiculous, and it had only been a few seconds!

"Back!" Bulma heard Vegeta's voice from behind. It was when she'd finally retrieved Trunks that she turned, nearly bumping into the saiyan as she went. While she had been working on the carseat, Vegeta had moved to stand directly behind her, his arms outstretched as if to shield her from the descending mob. He glanced at her over his shoulder, a frown plastered across his chiseled jaw. Their eyes locked on one another, the couple silently exchanged in conversation.

'I told you I'd kill them,' His glare hissed.

'I hate crowds,' Her frown replied.

'Ready?' He nodded a gesture towards the restaurant.

Feeling overwhelmed, Bulma nodded back. She clicked a button on her capsule and threw it to the helicopter, and a moment later was tucking the small pod into her purse. With that, the two began to make their way towards the entrance of the restaurant, Vegeta locked by her side as they went.

A man suddenly jumped out at Bulma, a pop of light going off as he clicked a shutter in her face. Stunned and temporarily blinded by the flash, she let out a small yip of breath. 'What the hell?' She thought, blinking back the stars that were now dancing in her eyes. 'This-This…This mother fuc-…' But before the words could fully form in her mind, Vegeta had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his frame protectively. "Back away!" He barked. Still overwhelmed, Bulma hugged Trunks closer still.

"Don't get so close. AWAY!" His fingers protectively held her close, as he lead her through the crowd. Despite the warn that flared in his tone, Vegeta's voice came out relatively muffled in comparison to the yells of the crowd all around them. She could tell that he was mustering all he had in him to keep from lashing out, and she was impressed. She'd pleaded with him to try and keep his calm, but she hadn't expected him to… well, actually do it... Vegeta really was behaving rather mildly, considering everything!

"I told you all to BACK AWAY!" He suddenly barked, his voice breaking into a boom. Bulma's eyes dropped. Perhaps she'd given him credit too soon…

"MY KIN ARE WALKING HERE! MAKE SPACE!"

The angry saiyan only needed to shout his case once. Zeroing in on the thunder of his voice, each photographer jumped back to form a trail for the couple to walk through. Although they had allowed Vegeta and Bulma more space, the hounding didn't stop, as the flashing and shouts continued around them.

Vegeta maintained his hold around his woman as they made their way through this tunnel of gaping a bit more to go, and they'd finally be at the restaurant's entrance. Bulma hugged Trunks closer to her chest as they drew closer to the door. She had to admit that, although she was actively working to ward off an anxiety attack, she did enjoy having Vegeta as her personal body-guard. She couldn't imagine what it would have been liked to crawl through this crowd on her own.

"Bulma! How's your face?" A camera-man yelled as she passed.

Her eyes widened, but she fought to maintain her composure. She stared straight ahead, determined not to react to the prying questions that were being yelled from all directions.

"Did he do it to you?" Another asked.

"If it wasn't this guy, then who was it?!"

"Bulma!"

Not wanting to dignify anybody with a response, the Bluehead opted to drop her head back and nuzzle against Vegeta's. Perhaps this would send the message, as he moved his arm up around her shoulders to pull her in tighter. In all honestly, she was surprised at how open he was with this public-display-of-affection. Vegeta – the man of notoriously few words - had been the one to grab ahold of her first. And he hadn't even flinched when she'd rubbed her cheek against his. He'd just pulled her closer, as if he were trying to send a message to the paparazzi himself, and continued to lead her through the mob. "They're all a bunch of idiots." He growled in her ear, giving her an assuring squeeze. "All of them. Every. Single. One."

It was only a few seconds later that the couple finally made it to the door, though it had felt like an eternity for Bulma. They disappeared into the building, sighs of relief at having escaped the pests outside. Vegeta maintained his hold around her until they had been seated at a table.

Now across from her, the saiyan was still visibly tense. "What the hell was that?" He said, mouth twitching.

Bulma shook her head, her heart still pounding from the commotion. "I told you I hated crowds!"

"Crowd!" Trunks cooed in agreement from his high-chair, slapping his hands down on the table in front of him.

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." Vegeta was so focused on making his point that he didn't notice Trunks' contribution to the conversation. "That was – that was…" He said, his mind beginning to trail. Vegeta realized that he was having difficulty finding a good word to describe the ordeal. What the hell was that out there? What the hell was wrong with this entire damned planet?! That was normal?! When Vegeta had been prince of an entire planet, his name had been known and respected. His people knew how to address him – how to conduct themselves in his presence. If someone had been stupid enough to behave half-as disrespectful as the swarm outside had, they would have been tortured for weeks to make a point! Yet, on Earth, it seemed that everyone was used to behaving so inconsiderately of their elites!

What in the hell was wrong with this place!?

As if to save him from his own bewilderment, a waiter suddenly appeared to ask some rehearsed question that Vegeta didn't care to listen to.

"We'll all have water, please!" Bulma sang.

'What the hell?' The saiyan thought again.

.

A few moments later, and the waiter was back carrying the drinks in tow. But he hadn't simply returned with water - he was also carrying a huge bottle of wine. Vegeta's eyes widened when he saw it. It was amazing that this drink was almost identical in packaging and hue as the alcohol that had been so popular among Frieza's men. He'd begun to assume that most Earthlings didn't consume alcohol at all – the Briefs family certainly didn't keep it in their house! And Vegeta, who never had bothered to immerse himself into the city's culture, hadn't been exposed to the substance since commencing his stay on Earth. And, in all honesty, he really hadn't even put much thought towards it! Vegeta had been so distracted by the many events that had occurred since his pilgrimage, that he hadn't concerned himself even once about desiring a drink. In fact, Vegeta was sure that he hadn't thought even once about the beverage until that very moment, and suddenly he felt that it had been way too long since he'd had a taste.

"May it be our honor to present this gift to you both. We hope it'll help you to enjoy your night out. It's on the house, of course." The waiter was saying.

"Thanks," Bulma replied politely, holding a hand up to turn him away. "But I'm driving tonight."

And, just as the waiter was about to leave, Vegeta chimed in. "She may be driving, but I'm not."

"Of course!" The server immediately popped the bottle open and poured an empty glass to its rim. He handed Vegeta the glass, set the bottle down in the center of the table, and gave a bow. "Please, do enjoy. And let us know if you need any more. I'll give you two a few minutes to look over the menu." With that, he spun on his heels and quickly disappeared back into the kitchen.

Bulma turned to Vegeta then, eyes wide. It wasn't that she cared, necessarily, but he had never once indicated that he liked alcohol. In fact, she'd begun to assume that saiyan culture was so centered around physical perfection, that they wouldn't want to hinder their senses with mind-altering substances. She'd figured he was against such a thing. "You drink?" She asked, her voice curling with surprise.

"Not habitually." Vegeta picked up the glass and downed its contents with one gulp. "But after what you just put me through out there, tonight seems like the perfect night."

Bulma smiled. "You hate crowds too, huh?"

"Indeed."

.

Thirty minutes later, and Bulma was bouncing Trunks on her lap as he colored a piece of paper the staff had given him. The waiter was actively cleaning of their table, taking away their places and commenting on how much they seemed to like the food.

"That's all they've got?" Vegeta grumped when the waiter had disappeared back into the kitchen once again. He'd asked for them to bring out the largest entree they had, and in return they'd only given him a single measly plate. The food had only been sub-par in quality, too!

"Most people only eat one serving during meals," Bulma whispered. "Remember, we need to act normal."

"I am acting normal!" The saiyan shot, his mouth wide with a smile. "It's the rest of this planet you should be worried about!" It wasn't that he was complaining about the circumstance of having such an empty stomach. He was simply offering commentary. In that moment, despite his disappointment, he was only able to see humor in the situation.

Absolute comedy.

The Bluehead gave him a knowing smile. "How was the wine?"

"It sucked! It was much too fruity, hardly burned as it went down at all." Vegeta's grin was twitching now, as if trying not to laugh at his own words. "That's what you mortals call it on this planet? Wine?"

That was it – he was unable to prevent the chuckle that escaped his lips. "What a suiting name! Everyone on this planet is so whiney, aren't they? I'm not surprised at all. Wine… you people call it wine."

"Oh, for goodness sake." Bulma rolled her eyes to keep from cringing.

"Even the drinks here have weak names. Tell me, Woman… Do the people here tend to whine for their wine?" Vegeta winked, his eyes silently laughing. He threw his head back as he downed the rest of his bottle.

"That's the best pun I've ever heard." Bulma said, her words dripping with blatant sarcasm.

"Damned right, it is!" Vegeta said, choosing to ignore the tone in her voice. He let out a husky laugh. "Some of the terminology on this planet is so ludicrous, I could just puke."

"Yes, well... Please don't. And perhaps we should order you another meal after all… You need to sober up. I don't mind you drinking, but I don't think I can handle too many of your 'dad' jokes."

"I'm not drunk – just cynical." Vegeta didn't know what she meant with the term 'dad jokes', but he found he didn't care to ask. The saiyan waved his hand dismissively, leaning back in his chair. It was true – he really wasn't drunk. It would take a lot more than one puny (and fruity) little bottle to intoxicate his hardened veins. He was, on the other hand, feeling a buzz - enough so that he could find humor in his disgust of this planet's backwards society! But he certainly wasn't drunk. Nevertheless, he decided that one bottle would be enough for the night, so he sat back up and pushed the empty glass away. Trying to think of a way to change the subject, the saiyan spoke the first thing that came to his mind.

"You specifically chose this day for us to go out. What was the reasoning behind that?"

Upon hearing this question Bulma's face lit up, as if she'd completely forgotten about it herself. "Well!" She looked down at Trunks and bounced him on her lap with more enthusiasm. "I just thought it would be nice to celebrate our little boy's birthday!"

"Birthday?" Vegeta whipped his head around at this. "You mean to say the boy is only a year old?!"

Bulma shrugged. Her face dropped a little, disappointment starting to well in her eyes. "Well, yes – but no. Trunks is a year old – but it's actually more like 18 months today. His real birthday passed during the Cell Games, so we didn't exactly get to enjoy it then… And with everything else that's been going on - I thought celebrating this half-birthday would feel just as significant."

Vegeta raised his eyebrows, looking at his son now as he turned his head. The boy was apparently approaching his second year of life, already? The saiyan was suddenly struck with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. How odd it was to think that the boy had already accumulated so much time!

Trunks was cooing now, euphorically gnawing on his own fist as he concentrated on the picture he was coloring with his crayon. Vegeta turned his head the other way, studying the lavender-haired tot in front of him. "For someone his age, the boy doesn't have a lot to say. Why doesn't he talk more if he's so old?"

"Ol-d." The child replied, picking his head up to look his father in the eyes. His vocabulary was still quite limited, but he definitely could understand what everyone around him said! Should he really be speaking more? Trunks had never really thought about such a thing as age, and he certainly hadn't worried much about his communication skills. His mommy seemed to have no problems understanding what he wanted! What was wrong with that?

As if sensing his bewilderment, Bulma leaned down to give him an affectionate peck on the forehead. She looked back up at Vegeta then, shooting him the same incredulous look that she always gave when it came to discussing their son's milestones. "I don't know how old you were when you began to talk, but Trunks is developing just fine. In fact, look at what he's doing! What other 18-month old is able to draw and color like this? His attention to detail is magnificent, just look at how careful he is to stay in the lines! Get over it, Vegeta, our boy really is a lot smarter than you want to admit. And you know it."

"I was having full conversations with my comrades when I was half his age." Vegeta replied. He didn't acknowledge what she'd said about Trunks' intelligence, but it certainly added to the growing sensation he felt in his stomach. He didn't think much about this child's capability to create useless pictures with crayons, but apparently this ability was significant enough that it meant the boy was of superior intelligence? Interesting…

"Sometimes I think you just make things up to prove a point." Bulma was nearly laughing now. "According to you, you were born walking. You were born talking. You were born fighting, and you never had to meet any developmental milestones because it was all handed to you on a silver platter. Aren't you just perfect?"

She really was beautiful when she laughed. Vegeta found that her face was so intoxicating that he wasn't insulted by her joke at all. Instead he gave her a wink, sitting back to nod approvingly. "Perfect is an understatement."

"Don't worry, Trunks! Everything Daddy's been saying is just a lie. He's just jealous, because he was probably still wearing diapers by the time he was 5. Wasn't he? Oh-yes, Trunks! I'll bet he was!" Bulma had turned the baby around in her lap so he could face her, and the child was now giggling into his hand as she cooed.

.

Ten minutes later, after Bulma paid the bill and scribbled her name on a check, she pushed her chair back and stood from the table. Vegeta looked her up and down, following suit as he rose to his feet. She was cradling Trunks as she threw the strap of her purse over her shoulder. The saiyan walked around the table to wrap an arm around her waist, whispering a compliment about her appearance in her ear.

"You really are drunk, I knew it!" Bulma joked in response. She wasn't used to him being this openly affectionate, and she was enjoying it.

"I told you I'm fine," Vegeta hissed back, though he wasn't nearly as confident about this as he had been earlier. It seemed that he was feeling more elated with each passing second, and he began to wonder if over four years of abstinence had made an ill-effect on his alcohol tolerance. Oh well, the more time that passed, the less he cared. He ran a hand through her short hair as they began to make their way for the door.

"You smell really good," He growled, pulling her closer as they went. Before she had a chance to respond, he pushed the door open so the couple could step outside. And, instantaneously, the family was once again surrounded by the yells and calls of paparazzi.

It was now dark, night-time having fallen while the family ate. But the slew of flashes that bubbled from the cameras did their part in lighting the path for the family to walk. Something about the popping lights worked to make Vegeta feel nearly dizzy as he walked, only adding to his cynical amusement about the entire ordeal. It'd been a long time since he'd felt his heart pumping like this, and he was starting to really have fun with it.

And what the hell was wrong with this planet, anyway?

"Bulma! How are you feeling?"

"Bulma!"

"What do you have to say? We want answers!"

They were all yelling for her – desperate to get her opinion, her words. They wanted her, and they just couldn't have her. But he could. All Vegeta seemed capable of thinking in that moment was how good it felt to have her walking so close to him, to feel her petite frame sinking into his own, to know that she was his. The imbeciles on this planet could think whatever they wanted, no matter how simple their delicate minds were, but at the end of the day she was evidently powerful to these weak creatures. They groveled at her. And of all people she could have chosen to sire a son with, she had chosen him. She was his mate.

She always would be.

Vegeta was pleasantly surprised when the helicopter suddenly formed in front of them. He hadn't noticed when Bulma threw her capsule. And the distance to the helipad felt much shorter than he'd remembered! This was great!

"How old is your baby?"

"Do you think the stories are all lies?"

"Stop being so rude and say something! We have a right to know!"

The yells were deafening, as Vegeta watched her strap Trunks into his carseat. He stood behind her, trying to block her from the paparazzi's view as she worked. Trying to protect her from their taunts. They were taking an endless amount of pictures, their questions continuing at a rapid pace. The never ending flashes of light, reflecting off the metal of the vehicle, were starting to make Vegeta's mind feel as if it were swirling.

Yes, he was pretty sure his head was starting to spin…

When Bulma stepped away from the helicopter and turned, he was waiting and ready. And he grabbed her then, feeling light headed. And he smiled. "How about we shut them up?"

"Don't hurt anyon-" She began to reply, but he grabbed her and pulled her in. Her eyes wide as she looked into his face, too shocked by his actions to react. "You smell really good," He said, leaning in to brush his lips against her own.

And it worked.

Not another question or insult was yelled, a hush befalling the mob around them. Suddenly the flashes and shutters began to slurry with a quicker pace, like a thundering storm. Vegeta's tongue teasingly brushed across Bulma's lips – though the creatures watching would never know. She was grasping his shirt with pleasant surprise, his hands firmly holding her hips in place against him. Suckling on her lower lip now, reveling in her scent. After what felt like an eternity of bliss, but in reality was only a few seconds of joy, Vegeta pulled back to plant one last assuring peck on her forehead. "Get in the vehicle, Bulma. Let's hurry up and get home."

Vegeta sat in a barstool in his kitchen, downing a glass of water as Bulma worked above the stove in front of him. It was nearly 3 A.M., and the night had seemed to fly by in a blur. The saiyan was now completely sober, and he hated to admit how much the wine really had gotten to him. He hated to admit it had made him quite drunk. When he was younger he'd been known to be able to down endless bottles of nameless drinks during victory celebrations, with the effects on his mind being quite minimal. It was hard to believe that one mediocre sized bottle of fruity alcohol had managed to take over as much as it had.

He eyed Bulma's figure as she slid food onto a plate, turning to click off the stove. "This will help," She said softly, placing the entrée in front of where he sat. A dish that was nearly overflowing with steamed vegetables and grilled meat – and without a thought of hesitation the saiyan downed it all in one bite. She took a seat next to him, letting her hands support her head as she leaned against the counter. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fine," Vegeta muttered, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. His mind was no longer swirling, his inner voice now much more clear. The wine really had gotten to him, and he found it interesting to think back on the events of the night.

He thought back on what had happened after their dinner – how he'd hurried his family back into the house when they'd finally landed in the garage. How he'd proclaimed that it had been one of the most amusing nights he could remember having in a long time. How, at one point, he'd yanked Trunks from Bulma's hold so he could throw the boy into the air, announcing that one day his son would learn to fly, before catching the child in his arms as Trunks gleefully laughed. How he'd relished in his son's joy and threw him back up just to hear him squeal again…

…How, after bidding the child farewell, he'd watched Bulma carry Trunks upstairs to put him to bed. And how impatient he'd been for her to return to him empty handed… How he'd grabbed her, thrown her over his shoulder, and carried her upstairs when she finally appeared in the living room. How he'd thrown her on his bed, planted kisses down her frame, and ravaged her body when they were finally alone…

… How he could feel himself sobering up as they embraced each other, the sweet smell of her skin exhilarating to his senses. And yet, despite his clearing mind, he was in too good of spirits to care about ego anymore. How her warm skin seemed to tickle his own when he sank into her naked form, and how shamelessly he whispered compliments into her ear as he relished in her warmth. How good she felt as she hugged him, gasping sweet nothings to the Saiyan Prince in reaction to his body, calling his name and begging for more as he gave her everything she asked. How fulfilling it was to have her moan as he bucked against her, until she seemed to melt into him like a delightful hot bath, holding onto him as if she needed every fiber in his body for her own.

…And Vegeta remembered, as he reflected on their night, how amazingly urgent it felt when he'd been reaching his own limit with their passion. How it seemed that, no matter how close he was to her body - how deep he was inside, the feeling would never be enough. His thirst for her would always remain insatiable.

Vegeta remembered clearly, as he had gasped through his own climax and slammed into her with such euphoria, the words he'd groaned in her ear.

"I love you…so much."

And now, as he sat staring at his empty plate, Vegeta wondered what she would say. It was a strange sensation to reflect on the behavior he'd taken part in while feeling a lot more than simply buzzed. Things he might have thought in the secret depths of his mind, but would never have allowed himself to actually come to terms with. He instantly knew that he wouldn't care if he never drank alcohol again. He'd enjoyed while he'd been under the influence of it, but in retrospect Vegeta was ashamed to realize how much it had affected him after all. How easily it seemed to take control. Four years of sobriety really could have quite an effect on tolerance…

He felt warmth as her hand placed over his own, and he looked up to see her exhausted Blue eyes smiling at him.

"I like it when you say that," She whispered softly, and he could hear in her voice how tired she really was after such an eventful night.

"When I say what?" Vegeta replied, feeling his cheeks growing hot. Was she going to shove his nose in the declaration he'd made – to demand to hear it again and again? To tease him with it, make fun? What more – if she asked him to repeat himself, would he?

His heart began to beat quicker.

"Bulma," She said, as if she could sense his discomfort and wanted to give him a pass. "I like it when you call me Bulma." She had a knowing look in her eyes. He knew what she was thinking, and he found exhilaration that she wasn't going to actually say it. This woman really was wonderful, wasn't she?

Vegeta grinned. He turned his hand over so he could interwind her fingers with his own. "It seems my Woman has a name, after all." He teased.

"Right." She joked back. "Who would have thought."

And, with that, Vegeta stood from his seat. He gestured to the stairs with his head, grabbing Bulma by the waist to lift her from the chair. "How long do you think we have before the boy wakes?" He asked.

"Knowing him, it could either be thirty minutes, or it could be seven hours."

"I suppose it's a gamble, then. Shall we go to bed?"

She let out a yawn, reaching her arms above her head and indulging in a big stretch. Vegeta grinned, watching as her tank top lifted to reveal the lower part of her stomach. "You look good when you do that."

A smile on her face, Bulma quickly lowered her arms back to her sides. "Okay, you're obviously still drunk, aren't you?"

The completely sober saiyan prince eyed her up and down. He allowed a trademark smirk to spread across his face. "I've told you so many times tonight," He replied. "I'm fine."