Disclaimer: I don't own DragonBallZ.
I would like to give my most grateful and appreciative thanks to everyone who has reviewed! You know I always value your opinions! So I want to thank animeprincess1452, Spring Rain of Harusame, Trugeta, and Myshel! You're all just marvelous!
To animeprincess1452: Thank you for the compliment! I'm so glad you enjoyed the chapter! Yes, Bra is left to look after the little one. Only problem is how much pandemonium he might be able to cause! Thank you once again!
To Spring Rain of Harusame: Oh, yeah, babies certainly can be aggravating when they're in one of their little crying moods. But Bra doesn't really know that much about Trainer's personality, so I think she's in for quite an evening! Thank you!
To Trugeta: It was bit of a search, but they did find someone in the end. And I think Bra is in for a bit of a time, for she has very little experience in working around her nephew's schedule, nor does she really know his personality. Thank you!
To Myshel: Thank you for all of the reviews! They really made my day, it was a joy to receive all of them! So glad that you like the story, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Thank you! #waves# Come again!
Chapter now...
After having finally arrived, Trunks led his wife into the restaurant by a warm hand, and then proceeded toward the host's desk to ask about their table while she surveyed the ornate surroundings.
The host, a young man wearing a dark suit, stood to attention and faced Trunks with a polite and professional smile. "Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Cevarelli Restaurant. How may I be of service to you this evening?"
Demi, shawl still wrapped around her shoulders, gazed at the setting within the entrance, taking a subtle interest in the large, elegant rug laid out beneath their feet. Also, sitting against the wall was a dark red antique sofa with curved wooden legs, surrounded by lit pine trees that glowed with an appropriately low light. Evidently when Bulma had long ago told them that this was an upscale restaurant, she had not been exaggerating. But classiness was the least of Demi's concerns, for she was here to judge to food, and judge she would...
"We both have a reservation for seven...my wife and I," Trunks told the host, and shot a brief, backwards glance to said woman.
"Yes, sir," he nodded. "May I ask under what name?" He laid out a thin, black and gold folder and opened it up to search for the awaited name.
"Briefs."
The host paused in his search. "Pardon me, but...was that 'Briefs,' sir?"
"Yeah..." he raised an eyebrow.
'Briefs?' As in 'Briefs,' the family to Bulma Briefs, technological genius and famous scientist? The family that always managed to create pandemonium in not only the kitchen but the entire restaurant? The same family that ate more than a starved army in the middle of a cold and barren winter? He glanced from husband to wife, and suddenly noticed the inelegant manner in which Demi stood, arms folded and leaning on one leg.
"Oh, yes," he quickly regained his composure and looked back at the folder. "Alright. Table sixteen. If you will please follow me..."
Even though he managed to retain a professional poise, the host could not help but mentally panic. Every chef, cook, waiter, and waitress already knew that Trunks Briefs had the ability to eat more than thirty starved guests combined. But now, as if their job was not hectic enough, his wife had accompanied him! If she possessed an appetite anywhere near his, the evening would be traumatic...
He led them to a round table-for-two beside the large windows that opened up to the magnificent vista, a beautiful slope covered with clustered pines and blanketed beneath snow. Immediately the couple took their seats, and browsed at the wine menus before them.
"One of our waiters will be with you shortly," the host said, and turned to head to the kitchen and warn everyone as quickly as possible.
. . . . . .
At the house...
Trainer had, to his aunt's great delight, remained reasonably quiet since his mother and father left for their evening dinner. 'A romantic evening dinner,' Bra thought amusedly, and warily told herself never to let Trunks or Demi hear her saying that out loud.
For now, though, everything was peaceful. At present, Bra was seated within one of the chairs in the living room, holding Trainer in her lap while he happily played with one of his toys. She was slightly impressed (not to mention glad) as to how her nephew was so well-behaved.
However, it was not long before Trainer's notorious and hereditary hunger distracted him from his toy. He stared up at Bra with his baby eyes and whimpered in an almost informing manner.
"Oh, are you hungry?" She gathered him up in her arms and headed to the kitchen.
The first place she decided to look was the refrigerator, hoping to find some milk, when she saw a note taped upon the door that read: 'Bra, be sure to warm milk under hot water before feeding Trainer.'
"Huh. Okay." She opened the refrigerator door, grabbed the milk from the lower shelf, and took it to the sink to warm it as she'd been instructed.
With Trainer leaning over her arm and watching curiously, she placed the bottle in the hot running water, all the while glancing back at aforesaid baby. When he realized that she in fact had milk, though, he started to look very impatient. Those widened, slightly watery eyes were more than just a warning to Bra. 'Oh, please no.'
A few sniffles, and Trainer began whimpering again, causing his anxious aunt to glare at the bottle. 'Come on, hurry it up!'
. . . . . .
Back at the restaurant...
Trunks, after gazing out the window to his left for a while, sighed and gave his wife a fleeting look. She appeared to be somewhat bored, leaning her chin on the back of her hand and avoiding his stare.
Trunks had forgotten just how much of a terrible conversationalist Demi was whenever they went to restaurants. He took a sip from his glass of wine. "You know, you haven't said one word this evening."
She looked up. "Yes I have. I've said 'Yes' a couple times..."
Again, Trunks sighed. Then, after a quiet moment, "So how do you think Bra's doing...?"
"How should I know?"
"I mean, do you think the baby's giving her a hard time?"
"I'm sure she's alive," Demi replied. "Trainer's not that difficult. Anyway, she's got experience, she's been around kids a lot. She took care of your youngest sister."
"True," he nodded. "But still, he is a little demanding."
"All babies are demanding, dear. That description leaves the situation in the dark, it's a little too vague."
"All I mean is that he can get to be..." He tapped his fingers on the table, searching for the right words. "...kind of a pain...?"
"And you would know," she scowled. "I'm the one who stays home with him all day while you're gone to work. Since when do you know just how much of a pain the kid can get to be?"
Trunks put a hand to his forehead. 'Maybe going out to eat wasn't the greatest of ideas. What's taking the food so long, anyway...?'
Little did he realize that the kitchen had already turned into a madhouse. "Hurry up! We've got nine appetizer orders for the calamari and eleven for minestrone! Plus thirty-five main course orders for our recommended chicken, twelve for the marinara pasta shells, twenty for our manicotti, and fifteen for the angel hair pasta! And don't forget to make those fourteen servings for the side of potatoes!"
Chefs and cooks ran back and forth, trying to keep up with each order, mixing the soup, stirring the marinara sauce, frying the chicken...The more experienced chefs especially sympathized with the newer cooks. They had no idea what was truly in store for them...
. . . . . .
At the house again...
Trainer writhed around within his aunt's hold, protesting by delivering little kicks in the air. He had, by now, grown so hungry and impulsive that he'd turned his cries up to top volume, and poor Bra flinched with every scream. "Crying isn't going to make this go any faster, you know!"
She hastily pulled the bottle out from under the water and set a couple of drops on the back of her hand. 'That's it! It's warm! Warm enough!' "Here!" She shoved the tip into Trainer's mouth, and the deafening howls were promptly silenced.
He placed his hands around the bottle, leaving Auntie to sigh in relief. 'Quiet at last.' "Well, I hope you're happy, young man. It would kill you to keep it on the down-low while waiting. What an impatient little thing you can be."
The young baby just looked up innocently at her, clutching his bottle and drinking as if nothing had happened at all.
Bra narrowed one of her eyes at the display, wondering as to whether she could actually trust him. That bout of crying wasn't exactly something one could just shrug off, especially if the person put through it happened to be a Saiyan with sensitive hearing. She'd keep an eye on him though, and see if he could behave well for the rest of the evening...
I finally finished the chapter! And I hope you all enjoyed it. Please let me know with some feedback! Review!