She looked around, upstairs and down, but he wasn't inside. The only other logical place where he could be was the gravity machine. Stomping out to the door, she found a cell phone, blinking with three new messages. She pounded on the door until he opened it.
"What do you want," he barked.
She held up the cell phone, "You're supposed to keep this with you at all times! I got it so I could contact you in case of an emergency, you know, we do have a little baby at home."
"But how am I supposed to train with that blasted thing interrupting me every five minutes," he asked, crossing his arms.
"Do you want me to put an intercom in here? And it's not only when you're training, what if you're off doing something and I need to contact you immediately? Hmm?" she retorted, "Anyway, dinner is ready, so come in."
Without saying another word, she left. "Damn woman never lets me get the last word. Who's the Saiyan prince here anyway? I shouldn't have to listen to such talk from some low level female."
He looked at the cell phone, when he got a brilliant idea. "Maybe I can trick her into getting rid of that thing by playing a little game… Heh heh, if anything, she better take it away before it's 'too late'," he felt his stomach growl a little, "Let the games begin. Uh, after dinner, that is."
Chapter 2 – Let the Games Begin!
Bulma woke up, expecting Bra to be crying for breakfast, as usual. Next to her, was the empty space where Vegeta slept, as usual. She listened for the soft hum of the gravity machine, as usual… there was no soft hum. And Bra was not crying… and she smelled something cooking.
Trunks? Oh no! He'll burn the house down!
She ran down the stairs in her pajamas, not even bothering to grab her robe. She screeched to a halt at the dining room. Trunks was at the table chewing on an almost burnt piece of toast. He pointed to the kitchen, not saying a word, then materialized behind his mother as she fainted. There was Vegeta, holding Bra on his hip, a ruffled pink apron tied around his neck over his red flannel pajamas, with a spatula in hand, flipping pancakes. He flipped a pancake up, and in the blink of an eye, caught the spinning cake on a plate. Bra laughed and clapped.
"Here Trunks, your pancake is ready. Do you want butter and syrup, or powdered sugar?"
"I 'anna pa'ke Da," Bra exclaimed.
"I'll make you a little pancake, okay sweetie?" He tweaked her ear, and she laughed.
Behind him, Trunks tiptoed up to him, and sneaked the plate away from the counter, but Vegeta turned to him.
"I put the condiments on the table for you to use. If you want another one, let me know, okay," he said, ruffling Trunks' hair.
The very confused boy slowly backed from his father and sat at the table, where he rolled up the pancake and ate it whole, "Hey uh… Dad? I gotta go to school now, okay?"
"Do you want me to take you to school son? I can fly you there if you want," he offered as Bra grabbed his hair.
"Uh, no, that's okay Dad, I can fly. See ya," he ran out the door.
Left to himself, Bra, and an unconscious Bulma, Vegeta blinked a few times and put another pancake on.
"Mine," Bra announced with authority.
"Yeah yeah," he muttered to his daughter. Heh heh, Vegeta one, Bulma zero. Look at her, she's still out cold. Looks like my little housewife routine is working. Maybe next I'll organize her lab so she won't know where anything is…
That's all I have so far. How do you like it? I really don't know how I came up
with this one… Must be something in my water.