A/N: I don't own DBZ, but I wish I did. If I did, it would have soooooo
much more cherry stuff in it... Um. Anyhow. Hope you like it - I thought
the idea was kawaii. And just a friendly reminder... this is my first fic.
No flames, but I would reeeeeeeally appreciate some constructive criticism!
*hint hint*
Caught!
It was a typical, late-spring morning at Capsule Corp. The sun peeked out periodically from behind fluffy white clouds. Birds chirped happily, chasing each other through the sky. Grass rippled and flowers waved lazily to and fro, bending to the light wind that rushed through the treetops. The faint sound of children down the street laughing at their play could be heard above the low hum of automobiles that the good working people of the city drove to their occupations at the hour of 8:30 in the morning.
It was this peaceful and serene environment that the almighty Saiyajin no Ouji stepped into, followed by his not-quite-two-year-old son.
Playing babysitter was not, by any means, HIS idea. Was it his fault that his hot-tempered, blue-haired wife insisted he watch the chibi play outside while she finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes? Was it? Kami, no!
Speaking of the woman...
Head down in concentration and hands submerged in soapy water, she stood at the sink. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a bright pink T-shirt; she had promised to take Trunks to the park that day. Her brow creased in frustration as she accidentally splashed little droplets of water on her outfit, then relaxed and rose skyward in a hopeless way. Bulma smiled wryly. If she thought a little water was bad, she had another thing coming when she finally took her son, the ruler of all things messy, to the park, the one place in the world that seemed eternally covered in mud puddles.
She rubbed her hands with a towel after the last plate had been washed and dried, and pushed her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her wrist. She hung the towel on its hook and went to get her keys..
... only to dart back to the window at a high-pitched squeal from her son. The instincts only a mother knows kicked in, and, hands pressed against the glass of the window above the sink, her gaze homed in on her only baby.
However, Trunks wasn't being kidnapped. Or being bitten by a poisonous snake. Or being attacked by a rabid dog. Or any of the other disastrous things that run through a mother's mind upon hearing her child scream. On the contrary, he was standing quite still in the middle of the yard, gaze fixed on something in the grass, more puzzled than afraid. Bulma was about to walk out the door and see what Trunks' fuss was about when Vegeta strode up to the boy and folded his arms.
The child turned his head and looked up at his father, squinting against the sun and pointing to the spot on the ground. Vegeta did not move. So, determination set on his face, Trunks bent down carefully on unsteady legs and picked up something that, through the window, looked like a frog.
Now interested but no longer concerned for her child's well-being, Bulma crossed her arms and leaned on the counter, placing one ankle behind the other, and watched the scene unfold.
Trunks held the animal firmly in both hands so as not to let it slip away, and slowly rose again. He held it out and upward, blue eyes meeting the black ones of his father, big and wide, as if searching for approval. For what seemed like an age, neither moved. Then swiftly, and simultaneously as though they had planned it, Vegeta got down on his knees and his son deposited the frog into his gloved hands for inspection. The Saiyajin no Ouji looked at the creature that started kicking under his steady gaze, no emotion, not even the slightest amusement, apparent on his face. Then he grinned ever-so-slightly and held it out to Trunks, who squealed again and laughed, taking a shaky step backwards. Vegeta advanced, causing the same reaction from his son. He kept at it, his small, mischevious grin spreading just a little each time Trunks hopped unsteadily away.
The boy finally jumped too far back and fell flat on his behind. But instead of bursting into tears, his eyes widened. His father, still on his knees, shuffled closer and closer, holding the slimy creature out to him, secretly enjoying their little game. Trunks tried to scoot away, but he had given up crawling for walking too long ago and would not be fast enough to escape....
All at once, Vegeta gave a yell, jumped to his feet as fast as lighting, and dropped the frog. Trunks scrambled to get up, and chased after the animal that was hopping away as fast as it could, shrieking wildly as only a toddler can. He paid no attention to his father, who uttered a curse under his breath, ripped the glove off his right hand, and hurled it across the yard.
Amidst the confusion of noises - Trunks' shrill little voice happily screaming as he waddled on baby legs around the yard, and the poor frog's panicked croaks - Vegeta's sensitive Saiyajin ears picked up another sound. He spun on his heel towards the house.
... and his stare met with Bulma's red face. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners and had tears leaking out of them, and her mouth was turned upwards in a large, open smile. She seemed to be shaking.
Any fool could see that she was laughing harder than she had in years.
The almighty Saiyajin no Ouji drew himself up to his full height, replaced the deer-in-headlights expression on his face with his usual scowl, and stomped into the gravity room.
~*~Owari~*~
A/N: I confess. I wrote it purely for laughs. Did it at least make you smile?
Caught!
It was a typical, late-spring morning at Capsule Corp. The sun peeked out periodically from behind fluffy white clouds. Birds chirped happily, chasing each other through the sky. Grass rippled and flowers waved lazily to and fro, bending to the light wind that rushed through the treetops. The faint sound of children down the street laughing at their play could be heard above the low hum of automobiles that the good working people of the city drove to their occupations at the hour of 8:30 in the morning.
It was this peaceful and serene environment that the almighty Saiyajin no Ouji stepped into, followed by his not-quite-two-year-old son.
Playing babysitter was not, by any means, HIS idea. Was it his fault that his hot-tempered, blue-haired wife insisted he watch the chibi play outside while she finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes? Was it? Kami, no!
Speaking of the woman...
Head down in concentration and hands submerged in soapy water, she stood at the sink. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a bright pink T-shirt; she had promised to take Trunks to the park that day. Her brow creased in frustration as she accidentally splashed little droplets of water on her outfit, then relaxed and rose skyward in a hopeless way. Bulma smiled wryly. If she thought a little water was bad, she had another thing coming when she finally took her son, the ruler of all things messy, to the park, the one place in the world that seemed eternally covered in mud puddles.
She rubbed her hands with a towel after the last plate had been washed and dried, and pushed her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her wrist. She hung the towel on its hook and went to get her keys..
... only to dart back to the window at a high-pitched squeal from her son. The instincts only a mother knows kicked in, and, hands pressed against the glass of the window above the sink, her gaze homed in on her only baby.
However, Trunks wasn't being kidnapped. Or being bitten by a poisonous snake. Or being attacked by a rabid dog. Or any of the other disastrous things that run through a mother's mind upon hearing her child scream. On the contrary, he was standing quite still in the middle of the yard, gaze fixed on something in the grass, more puzzled than afraid. Bulma was about to walk out the door and see what Trunks' fuss was about when Vegeta strode up to the boy and folded his arms.
The child turned his head and looked up at his father, squinting against the sun and pointing to the spot on the ground. Vegeta did not move. So, determination set on his face, Trunks bent down carefully on unsteady legs and picked up something that, through the window, looked like a frog.
Now interested but no longer concerned for her child's well-being, Bulma crossed her arms and leaned on the counter, placing one ankle behind the other, and watched the scene unfold.
Trunks held the animal firmly in both hands so as not to let it slip away, and slowly rose again. He held it out and upward, blue eyes meeting the black ones of his father, big and wide, as if searching for approval. For what seemed like an age, neither moved. Then swiftly, and simultaneously as though they had planned it, Vegeta got down on his knees and his son deposited the frog into his gloved hands for inspection. The Saiyajin no Ouji looked at the creature that started kicking under his steady gaze, no emotion, not even the slightest amusement, apparent on his face. Then he grinned ever-so-slightly and held it out to Trunks, who squealed again and laughed, taking a shaky step backwards. Vegeta advanced, causing the same reaction from his son. He kept at it, his small, mischevious grin spreading just a little each time Trunks hopped unsteadily away.
The boy finally jumped too far back and fell flat on his behind. But instead of bursting into tears, his eyes widened. His father, still on his knees, shuffled closer and closer, holding the slimy creature out to him, secretly enjoying their little game. Trunks tried to scoot away, but he had given up crawling for walking too long ago and would not be fast enough to escape....
All at once, Vegeta gave a yell, jumped to his feet as fast as lighting, and dropped the frog. Trunks scrambled to get up, and chased after the animal that was hopping away as fast as it could, shrieking wildly as only a toddler can. He paid no attention to his father, who uttered a curse under his breath, ripped the glove off his right hand, and hurled it across the yard.
Amidst the confusion of noises - Trunks' shrill little voice happily screaming as he waddled on baby legs around the yard, and the poor frog's panicked croaks - Vegeta's sensitive Saiyajin ears picked up another sound. He spun on his heel towards the house.
... and his stare met with Bulma's red face. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners and had tears leaking out of them, and her mouth was turned upwards in a large, open smile. She seemed to be shaking.
Any fool could see that she was laughing harder than she had in years.
The almighty Saiyajin no Ouji drew himself up to his full height, replaced the deer-in-headlights expression on his face with his usual scowl, and stomped into the gravity room.
~*~Owari~*~
A/N: I confess. I wrote it purely for laughs. Did it at least make you smile?