C'mon guys, I'm not that mean, I wouldn't leave ya with a cliff-hanger for too long ;) R&R if you please!
Disclaimer: #dontown
XI.
Absolutely No More Dying
It looked more painful than any torture Vegeta had ever experienced at the hands of Frieza. It dragged on longer than the infinite "one minute" Kakarot had needed to recharge before facing Majin Buu. It was, without a doubt, even more disgusting than worms. And it was happening to his woman. Every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to exit the room and return only after gouging out his eyes and/or his eardrums. However, every time his gaze would drift to the door, his mate would scream or bleed or go limp or any other of the horrible things he had witnessed thus far, and he knew he could not leave, not even for a moment. She had been right. He hated this. This was not his element. This was not it at all.
"Almost there!" the decidedly worthless human doctor assured the room.
"You said that an hour ago! What does that even mean at this point!?" the Saiyan demanded, making a fist at the middle aged Earthling. Vegeta would have rounded on him and resorted to a more intense physical intimidation, but was prevented by 1) his wife's clenched fist, gripping the neckline of his t-shirt and 2) his immense desire to be absolutely as far away from the proverbial battlefield as possible.
"Don't yell at him! This is your fault REMEMBER!?" the laboring Bulma shouted, her arm twisting and dragging the Prince closer to her still.
"SHUT UP you are wasting your energy you insufferable woman!" Vegeta snapped back, eye twitching. However, he closed a firm hand around her wrist, signifying that he was still with her.
"No, really, this is the end!" the doctor interjected with a nervous laugh. He had been warned about the alien father's temper; in fact, it was a large portion of the non-disclosure agreement he had been forced to sign before being hired as the heiress's private physician.
Vegeta growled, bloodlust at full-force. "Do not say this-is-the-end when referring to my woman, you miserable earthling!"
Panting, Bulma looked at her husband, eyes serious and gaze intense. She grabbed his face with her free hand, turning it towards her to make sure that he was paying attention. "Hey buddy, listen up," she began, "If something happens,"
"Shut up, for once in your life just listen to my instructions and stop your blabbering," the Saiyan interjected, feeling the immense amount of energy it was taking her to verbalize. But, as per usual, Bulma would not be silenced.
"No you listen to me," she growled, parroting his tone almost exactly, whether or not it was intentional. "If something happens, you're it. You're all they've got. You have to stick around and teach them how to fight and how to think and you gotta be there. No more flying off and facing mortal danger to save the universe. Are you taking this in? And absolutely—ABSOLUTELY no more dying. I want to be clear about that. AND you have to love them—you don't have to say it—but you have to do it. Got it? GOT IT?" Tears began to fill the brim of her large blue eyes.
"No way, don't you die on me woman! I will not tolerate any more such talk! I cannot-" The Saiyan paused. Her requests were reasonable, he had to admit. Of course he would do those things. At least he would attempt to, to the best of his admittedly limited skill-set as a father, anyway. He then made a fist, looked at her with determination, and nodded in agreement. "Now, don't give up, you're no quitter." He winced. If it weren't for his harsh and commanding tone, he would have sounded like Kakarot offering a pep-talk. How annoying.
The scientist in turn nodded and made her own agreement, then screamed in such a manner that Vegeta was quite sure took care of the eardrum gouging he had contemplated earlier. The room then fell silent for a further deafening moment, but became alive again with the sound of infant cries.
"Actually, I think I'll be fine," Bulma breathed in hindsight, collapsing onto her pillow, chest heaving. "Wow,that got dramatic! Let me see her!"
Vegeta blinked. "You're fine? You're FINE? Are you kidding!? After all of that? Unacceptable!" he growled, throwing his hands in the air then crossing his arms. Although beyond embarrassed by the sentimental, now pointless display, he was, however, deeply relieved. Especially when the doctor handed up the screeching babe, still covered in blood and Kame knew what else, and he could step out of the way and let his mate take it.
"Ohhh, look at how beautiful!" the new mother cooed, holding the child against her chest, which seemed to silence the cries and lull the infant to sleep. "Little baby Bra."
The Saiyan gave a grimace at the utterance, but said nothing. After the past twelve hours, he decided it was, admittedly, appropriate that the woman name the brat whatever she wanted.
As the doctor stitched and bandaged the exhausted Bulma (Vegeta careful to avoid any and all visuals of this,) the Brief trio sat in silent contemplation. Once he had gone, Bulma opened an eye, returning to her study of the proud alien warrior whose second child she now cradled. "Hey, Vegeta," she said softly, eyes returning to their full close.
"Hn?"
"Pretty freaked out at the end there, huh?" she gave a mischievous grin then dozed off, joining her daughter in slumber.
Vegeta rolled his eyes, but noted, with an emotion he had not yet identified, that the child shared its mother's hair color, and sported a fine tail.
