Trunks was sitting in his crib, glaring at the bars surrounding him as he waited for someone to set him free. It seemed that he had cried and yelled for days after waking from his nap, but his mommy never came to rescue him from this claustrophobic cage. In fact, Trunks was pretty certain that he could hear his mother downstairs, in what sounded like a lot of animated conversation with a handful of voices that he couldn't recognize.

He'd long ago given up on yelling his protests. It was clear that his mom couldn't even hear his screams. Had she forgotten about him? Feeling dejected, the lavender toddler fell back in his crib and scowled at the bars in front of him. He crossed his little arms, the way his Dad always did, and he stuck his bottom lip out in a grumpy pout.

After what felt like days, Trunks realized that he could hear heavy footsteps trailing down the hall. The sound was growing louder as the feet were approaching his door, and the toddler could tell by the confidence in that stride that it was his Dad. He couldn't comprehend how it was that he assumed such a thing, but something inside just told him that he knew, and he didn't second guess it.

But his door was closed! Trunks quickly became worried that his Daddy would walk right past his room, and not even know he was waiting inside. Hit with a sudden urgency, the toddler jumped from his sitting position and grabbed the bars in front of him, giving them a firm shake as he screamed "DAAA!"

The next thing Trunks registered was an enormous crackling sound that rattled under his own fingers, growing louder as the seconds went by. Suddenly the bars collapsed under his grip, and the groggy child went tumbling head-first into the ground. Trunks lay with wide eyes, his body covered in wooden debris from his destroyed crib, and he considered what had just happened to him.

He was free! He was no longer confined to the walls of that infernal cage!

... But then, what had just happened? It had been so rude of that crib so just throw him like that! He was laying on the floor after having just dropped from so high, and it wasn't by his own doing – it was that crib's fault!

That crib was MEAN!

"WAHHHHH!" Trunks crowed, grabbing one of the wooden bars off his leg and snapping it in half before tossing it.

The bedroom door immediately flew open, and there stood Vegeta, looking as if a fire had just erupted. Ready to divert a disaster, the on-edge father scanned the room before he spotted his crying son on the floor below the crib. The saiyan's lungs exhaled a deep sigh as his alert concern dissipated into tolerant irritation. He stepped up to the howling toddler and looked down at him, Trunks breaking another one of the wooden bars as he screamed. "Son, that is enough."

"Bad! BAD!" Trunks lectured, kicking at the pile of wooden shreds he had created in his tantrum.

"I said, that is enough." Vegeta repeated, this time with more warning in his tone. It was then that Trunks seemed to realize his father was there for the first time, and he looked up at him with determination in his eyes. He glared at his Dad, as if to say 'can't you see I'm pissed off, here?!'

"You have broken your infantile bed." Vegeta said. "We shall replace it with a more fitting piece of furniture. Now, stop making an even bigger mess, and cease with your screaming."

"It hurt me!" Trunks' screams had faded into sniffles, and he scowled as he pointed a pudgy finger at the remnants of his crib.

"It did not hurt you. You have the blood of saiyan royalty in you." Vegeta said.

"It tried to hurt me!" Trunks rephrased.

"No, it did not. Son, you are speaking of a bed. It has no conscious thought. Now stop it." Vegeta began to raise his ki, by way of subtly warning the boy that he was being serious. "Had you been born in another dimension, you would have been prince of an entire species. No prince that I heir will lose grip over inanimate objects. Now stop crying and stand up."

Trunks, his chin wrinkled with indignance, wiped the remaining tears from his eyes. He pulled himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as he caught his balance. With one last look at the tattered crib, he gave one of the loose pieces of wood a kick. The bar popped into a cloud of splinters, silently settling over the carpet.

Above him Vegeta let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Your mother doesn't need to be cleaning up your messes right now, son."

But Trunks didn't care. He let out a delighted sigh, as if kicking the remnants of his crib had been exactly what he'd needed in that moment.

Vegeta groaned again. All the saiyan had wanted to do was take a quick shower before leaving with Yamcha, while Bulma was still too distracted to notice. He could see that wasn't going to happen now - Trunks had made sure of that. 'Oh well.' He thought bitterly, nudging his son in the back. Trunks' temper tantrum had been enough of a distraction to take the saiyan prince's mind off his own dirty thoughts, and he no longer needed an icy shower to cool down, anyway. "Come, son." Vegeta said, prodding the child in the back again. "Let's go downstairs and find your mother."

Down on the first level, Bulma was standing in Chi-Chi's room with the majority of her guests. Yamcha stood out in the den, listening to the chatter going on in the other room and wishing that Vegeta would just hurry up, already. It wasn't that the Z-Fighter had a particular issue with children, but they just made him uncomfortable. He had nothing in common with a newborn baby, and he had nothing more to say about them other than they were cute. Giggling over a small child was swell for a few minutes, but then what? This just wasn't his scene, and he had learned that quickly enough when Trunks had been born. Speaking of Trunks, Yamcha, who now stood with his back reclined against the wall, looked up to see Vegeta ushering the tot downstairs.

"Come on son, your mother is down here." Vegeta said once the two reached the landing.

Trunks had cheered up somewhat during the last few minutes, but there was still enough residual grogginess in his system to leave him feeling moody. Why hadn't his Mommy been the one to fetch him after he woke up? She always came in to pull him out of his crib after he announced the end of his nap! But where was she now?

The next thing the toddler knew, his father was opening the door to a bedroom and guiding him inside. This was the same room that loud woman - Gohan's mother - had been staying in. This was the same room that so much commotion had occurred in the day before...

"Oh! Trunks!" A familiar voice said. The lavender haired boy looked up to see a flash of blue approaching, and despite his foul demeanor he couldn't keep the smile from his plump cheeks. "Mommy!"

.

Now that he'd officially escorted his son to his Woman, Vegeta retreated back into the hall without a sound. Bulma hadn't even glanced his way when he'd opened the door to the room - her attention had been locked on the boy.

Strolling into the den, Vegeta and Yamcha eyes' locked immediately upon him entering the room. Without even speaking to one another they both nodded, and wordlessly they began to head for the front door. This didn't go without Vegeta walking past the couch, though. And as he did he looked down to see an injured looking old man who was hunched over.

Master Roshi was sitting, bending over his knees, as he muttered indistinguishable words to himself. He looked worse for wear in that moment, and Vegeta couldn't help but think this would have been a good time to have a regeneration tank handy. The old man certainly could have used one. "What's wrong with you?" He grunted.

Master Roshi looked up from his lap to reveal a swollen left eye and a bruised lip. "Oh? Heh-heh, nothing's wrong! Just another day in the park for me!"

"You look like death came to your doorstep for a visit, and you lost the fight." The saiyan bluntly replied.

"What? No, no! Of course not!" Master Roshi laughed nervously. "I just had a little conversation with Bulma, that's all..."

"Bulma?" Vegeta gulped, looking up towards Yamcha and raising an eyebrow.

The Z-Fighter had been standing in the entryway of the room, and he was now shaking his head. "You tried to grab her again, didn't you?"

Grab?

The saiyan whipped back around to eye the elderly man that was currently reclining on his own couch. Sure enough, Master Roshi's expression conveyed all the guilt that he wouldn't utter. "You?!" Vegeta hissed.

"Now now, let's not get too upset!" Master Roshi replied, laughing with feigned innocence as he held a wrinkly hand in the air. "I just... I just wanted to compliment her, that's all. I was only admiring her-"

"Shut up!" Vegeta snapped. He looked furious, grinding his teeth together as he glared at the man in front of him. He was examining the bruises, and Master Roshi's pained face. It almost appeared that the old man wouldn't even be able to stand for awhile, with how pathetically injured he seemed to be. What a confident pervert this guy was - he must have committed the attempted groping in the bedroom! Probably while Bulma was distracted with the Kakarot's infant son.

Imagine the gall to do such a thing - and in front of everyone, too! These wounds looked rather fresh - it was clear that Vegeta had just narrowly missed it! If he had only been a few moments earlier in arriving with Trunks, he surely would have walked in on the offending assault…

"Good God!" The saiyan finally barked, making both Yamcha and Roshi jump. "Is everyone going to get to see her kick some ass, except me?!"

Yamcha had started rushing to the men in case he needed to defend Master Roshi from the saiyan's wrath, but hearing Vegeta's rant made him stop in his tracks. "What?"

"Nothing!" Vegeta snapped, turning away to hide his face. Bulma had taken care of Master Roshi, herself. There was no point in pounding him now. He decided to let it go, but that didn't help with the trembling sensation of lost-opportunity that was welling in his gut as having missed Bulma's show of hands. "Come on, scarry. Let's jut get out of here."

"Scarry?"

"Scar-face... Bigmouth. Dim-wit. Scarry? Well, any nickname will do, really. Take your pick."

"Just... call me Yamcha." The Z-Fighter shook his head as they resumed their journey for the front door. "You sure know how to get on someone's good side, don't you?"

"Whatever." Vegeta sighed, the door clicking shut behind them as they stepped into the daylight.

"My, my…" Master Roshi muttered from where he sat on the couch. He had to cringe as he spoke. He'd accidentally bitten the inside of his cheek when Bulma had slapped him, and now it throbbed each time he moved his lips. "I wonder what those two are off to do..."

.

It must have been about 5 in the afternoon when the two rivals stepped outside the Vegeta household. The disgruntled saiyan looked up at the sky, thinking that it would still be a couple more hours before nightfall.

"So." Yancha smacked his lips when he broke the silence, trying to cut through the consequential awkwardness that came after Vegeta's show of emotion in the den. "What's the plan, then?"

"First, we will get away from this house before the Woman has the chance to find us and ask what we are up to." Vegeta replied bluntly. "Second, you will take me to a refutable source of food."

"Food?!" Yamcha nearly fell back, grumbling as he fought to keep his balance and avoid causing a commotion by slamming into the front door. "First you make me wait while you shower, and now you want food?! What the hell, man!"

"Keep your voice down, fool!" Vegeta hissed. "We must wait until night before we strike the beta male. I was having a sufficient meal for the first time in days, when it was rudely interrupted by you and your companions' arrival!"

"You and Goku really were from the same planet." Yamcha muttered, shaking his head. Fine, I'll take you to my favorite place. Follow me."

And, with that, the two men took off into the sky and made for a direct path towards the city centre.

.

"How'd you get all the way down here, big guy?" Bulma cooed to her son, who was now comfortably nestled in her loving arms.

"Daddy got me." Trunks replied. "My bed hit me, and Daddy got me."

His father hadn't seemed to care at all about that traitorous crib, but the toddler had expected that. His Daddy was always telling him to calm down, no matter how rude something had been to him. Likewise, Trunks had known that his Mom would be far more sympathetic to his grievances, and he'd looked forward to receiving a wet kiss on the cheek followed by a cheerful word of encouragement. It came to his surprise, then, when his story about the evil crib seemed to fall upon deaf ears.

As it turned out, his Mommy didn't acknowledge his hardship at all. "Oh? Daddy brought you down here?" She smiled. "My poor boy! I meant to go get you myself, but I guess I must have forgotten to!"

…Forgot?

FORGOT?

Mommy never forgot!

Trunks' mouth fell open as his whole world seemed to come tumbling down at that very moment. Things had been so strange lately. First, his mother had first started spending entire days away from home, leaving in the early hours of the day and not returning until late at night. Then, when that finally ended and she was back to staying at the house, she was so busy taking care of other people that she hardly seemed to notice little Trunks at all!

The toddler felt a lump of self-pity welling in his throat.

He'd heard so much hearsay about Gohan's mom - that blackhaired woman that screamed a lot. There had been so many discussions of her, and from everyone else, about a baby. About how the infant – the baby - was making her sick, about how the baby meant that Trunks' own Mom had to spend all her time paying attention to other people instead of himself. It had been a nice trade-off, for in Bulma's absence Gohan had started to come for visits and train. But now he had even lost Gohan. His best friend would be spending less time with him from now on, and all because he needed to tend to the baby.

Baby, baby, baby!

Trunks wasn't even completely sure what a baby was, but all he did know was that it was slowly taking his loved ones away from him. Why, his own mother had forgotten to pick him up from his crib! She never did that!

"Oh, the baby's awake." Bulma said now, bouncing her own son in her arms without any knowledge of the current turmoil going on in his mind. "Would you like to meet him, Trunksie?"

Trunks wrinkled his face and groaned, an act that he thought would surely scream 'NO!', but once again it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Because, instead of realizing just how upset he was in that moment, Bulma simply cooed and began to carry him towards Gohan's mom.

"Get a look, Trunks..." She was saying now, her voice softening as a smile laced her lips. This was a moment that the Bluehead hadn't even realized she'd been waiting for - when her very own bundle of joy was going to come face-to-face with that of her best friend's. These two children - so close in age, and the second generation of one of the strongest friendships that Bulma had ever known - were now going to meet for the very first time... She could only imagine how beautiful this would be.

'Oh,' The Bluehead thought, feeling surprisingly emotional as she leaned over Chi-Chi and lowered the toddler in her arms so he could get a better view. Chi-Chi, who looked as if she were experiencing similar thoughts, stifled a sob as she pulled the blanket back from her infant's face.

Bulma could almost feel as her son's eyes fell on the baby's, and without realizing it she was holding her breath in anticipation for what he might say.

… But no words came from his mouth.

After a few moments of silence, during which is seemed that everyone in the room was waiting in anticipation, Bulma finally spoke. "Well, Trunks? Here he is..."

Trunks squeezed his mother's arm, squinting his blue eyes as he studied the object in front of him. This? This? This was the cause of everyone's absence? This was what had made Gohan stop training with him, what had made the loud houseguest so unruly, had caused so much worry and chaos, and what had made his own mother forgot to retrieve him after his nap?

THIS?!

"... Baby?" Trunks asked, trying to confirm his observation. Why, this was what everyone had been making such a fuss about? This baby looked like another person! Sure - a small, wrinkly, discolored person. But it was still a person, nevertheless. Why had everyone been referring to it as the baby?

"Yes, Trunks... This is the baby..." Bulma breathed, smiling as she gave her son a squeeze. "So? What do you think, sweetie?"

What did he think? She had the nerve to even ask?! Trunks' face soured, his eyelids starting to droop. He was starting to wonder if this baby had cast some type of spell on everybody in the house, because he didn't understand any other way that all of these adults could be so blind!

"I think..." Trunks trailed, wishing his father was in the room with him. Daddy seemed to be the only person that hadn't been caught by this baby's spell. His father hadn't started acting differently in the least, and had even left the room as soon as he'd gotten the chance. "I think... I think… I think I don't like baby!"

"What?" Bulma breathed.

Someone else gasped.

Another person grunted.

And, in the back of the room and tucked in a corner, Krillin had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep his laugh from bursting out loud.

"What – What did you just say?" Bulma asked.

"I don't like baby!" Trunks repeated, feeling even more sour that he was actually having to repeat himself. This baby may have enchanted everyone else in this house, but Trunks was not going to fall for it. Not today! Not any time soon!

"Why, that's not very nice!" Bulma replied, too surprised to quite yet decide how to handle the situation.

"No! I don't like it!" Trunks concluded. It was then that he began to squirm against his mother's grip, trying to get away from her clutches so he could go find some toys to play with instead of staying in this room for a moment longer.

"Hey, Trunks!" Bulma called, but the lavender haired tot was already scurrying out the door. The Bluehead watched him go, blinking silently as she considered what had just happened. "Well... I..."

It was then that a loud whistle came from the corner of the room, and all eyes immediately went to Krillin. Still leaning against the wall, the hairless man pushed himself up right and nodded, his cheeks crinkled as if he were still trying to keep from laughing. "Man, would you get a look at that kid's temper." He said. "Bulma, he takes after you!"

"Really stubborn, yup!" Chi-Chi nodded, and then she put a hand on her friend's arm. "But that's okay, he's just a boy. He'll come around."

"Me?!" Bulma said. "Really? You think he gets that behavior from me? I was just thinking that he's an exact mold of Vegeta..."

.

"I've never had that type of food before." Vegeta was commenting as the two men stepped back onto the busy street in West City. His stomach was heavy and full, which was usually ideal after a meal, but this time he wasn't so sure if the sensation was pleasant or not. The saiyan had his share of different types of cuisine in his past, from all different stretches of the galaxy, but never had he had something quite like what he'd just eaten. This food had dripped with so much condensation, and it had spread over his face as he ate.

Now, in the afterglow of his feast, Vegeta's cheeks felt incredibly greasy and wet. He had a particularly strong urge in that moment to go home and take a shower – and this time, for real.

"No way - you've never had burgers before?" Yamcha licked his lips happily. "Well, I can't say I'm too surprised. Bulma's the one who's been feeding you, right? She never was a huge fan of burgers… or hot dogs."

"Understandable." Vegeta replied, wrinkling his eyebrows as he considered how droopy and weighed down his stomach felt in that moment. The saiyan wasn't sure what exactly a burger was made out of, but apparently eating forty-five of them wasn't the most agreeable with his digestive organs. He felt like he wouldn't be able to eat again for days!

"You liked them, though?" Yamcha asked - as if Vegeta's opinion actually mattered to him.

"The food was adequate in taste." The saiyan replied, unable to lie. "But the consistency was... interesting."

"Yeah, that's what everyone says their first time." The Z-Fighter grinned. "That'll happen after a lifetime of eating rice and dumplings, and that weird stew Bulma's mom always makes. Burgers are different from all that, but listen to me now. They're a godsend, mark my words. You'll be dreaming about them before long. You'll wish that you'll never have to stop eating them – ever."

The saiyan prince cocked an eyebrow, and rather than respond to his rival's disturbing love confession of a food, Vegeta opted to look up at the sky instead. "The sun is finally starting to retreat, but we still must wait." He announced. Sure enough, it was sunset. They had spent longer than he'd realized in that restaurant. But, then again, overwhelming a kitchen with forty-five orders at once could do that. "We can commence with our plan, but let's take our time. The darker it is outside, the more of a scare that Beta male will get once we strike."

"Hm, okay." Yamcha nodded. "Where does he live, anyway?"

"Not far." Vegeta grinned. The beta male's ki was weak, and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the residents on this puny planet. But he could recognize that filthy aura anywhere…

"Hey there," A silky voice suddenly said, causing Vegeta to grimace. He suddenly felt a nail raking across his forearm, and the saiyan looked up to see a red-headed woman grinning at his face. "Are you from around here?" She breathed, dragging her finger further down his arm.

"Don't touch me!" He instantly barked, pulling his arm back and glaring at the woman with fire. He didn't know who she was, or what made her think to be so bold, but how dare she lay a finger on him! The only woman entitled to such a gesture was Bulma, and she sure as hell looked way better than this girl did – by far!

"Hey, take it easy…" Yamcha muttered in the saiyan's direction before clearing his throat. "Hey, cutie…"

The red-head was looking at Vegeta with hurt eyes, her hand placed against her chest as she fought to keep her ego from denting. It had been a long time since she'd been rejected by someone she'd flirted with – and never had it happened to harshly. But when Yamcha spoke she looked up, and the smile rose back to her face. "Oh, you're handsome, too…" She grinned.

The saiyan rolled his eyes as the Z-Fighter responded with some well-rehearsed pickup line that sounded as if he'd used it hundreds of times already. Oh, for Kami's sake... Vegeta furrowed his eyebrows as the red-head giggled, pretending to be modest as she hid her mouth behind her hand. What an insulting joke!

The next thing Vegeta knew, Yamcha and the red-head were standing rather close to one another, and he was palming a few strands of hair out of her face while she squealed. It seemed that they'd decided to engage in some type of battle of kiss-assing, each blabbering mindless words of flatter to one another as their faces grew increasingly doofy by the second.

"Yamcha." The saiyan growled, glaring at the side of the woman's head. He'd never forgive her for touching him without consent.

The two continued flirting, despite Vegeta's obvious temper. "Yamcha…" He repeated, a vein starting to throb in his forehead.

Again, the two ignored him. Now the woman was writing something down on a piece of paper, and she handed it to Yamcha with another shrill giggle.

"HEY!" Vegeta finally snarled. The woman jumped, looking at him in shock. All cheer dropped from her face, and without another word she quickly marched away. "That's right!" The saiyan snapped after her. "Get out of here!"

"I'll call you later!" The Z-Fighter was shouting, grinning smugly as he watched her go. It was then that he turned back to Vegeta, his eyes hardening as he did so. "Hey, man… Easy on the attitude. You were pretty rude to her back there."

"Rude?!" Vegeta snapped. "That woman touched me! Without my permission! She should be grateful I didn't dismember her in honor of my mate!"

"Hey, hey. Calm down! We all know you're with Bulma. I get it." Yamcha was now stuffing the piece of paper that the girl had given him into his pocket. "But there's nothing wrong with being nice to the ladies, you know? Having Bulma doesn't mean you need to be so blunt. You made that girl feel bad."

"Are you mental?" Vegeta growled. What was this man suggesting? That he be kind to other women, simply because his own wasn't around to witness it?

"Whatever." Yamcha rolled his eyes. Clearly this was some kind of cultural thing. "You just aren't accustomed, man. That's how we do things on Earth. There's nothing wrong with being friendly when a babe wants to chat."

"You really are an idiot!" The saiyan spat. "Remind me to bash your head in once we've completed our current mission!"