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First time writing a little Goku!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, of course.
XVIII.
A Day in the Life
Barely able to follow the blurs and grunts zooming across the main yard, Trunks gave a long and dejected sigh. He hated when Goku came over to train sans Goten; it would always start on the hopeful we'll-take-turns note, but inevitably devolve into the two full Saiyans heatedly sparring at a level of power, skill, and competition so great, Trunks could not even humor the idea of joining. It was beyond annoying.
"Those two at it again, huh?" Bulma mused, bouncing the hybrid infant in her arms.
"As usual," Trunks groaned, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.
Bulma winced at how Vegeta-esque the motion was. "Sorry kiddo, I know that's no fun for you. Where's Goten?"
"Helping his mom around the house," the lilac-haired boy replied, his words dragged out as if the idea of household chores was the most ridiculous concept he had ever encountered. "It's so unfair. We're warriors, not maids. Cleaning is for girls." He made a fist, envisioning all of the potential fun they could be having, if not for Chi-Chi's irrational demands.
The scientist snorted at her son. "Ok, one more word and I'm going to have to run some tests on you, just to rule out the possibility that you are actually transforming into your father," she teased, shifting the weight of her baby to one arm and ruffling Trunk's hair with her free hand. "Just because he does nothing around the house doesn't mean the entire male-Saiyan-population shouldn't. Really, as fast as you boys all move, it should take you half the time of us human women to do a load of dishes and fold some laundry." She paused, stroking her chin. "You know, I bet if you flew over to Goten's house and helped him out, he'd be done with all those chores in no time! Then you two would have all afternoon to punch each other and share a body or whatever you do."
Trunks furrowed his brow, contemplating the suggestion, then shrugged and nodded. "I guess it's better than sitting around doing nothing," he agreed. "Is it cool if I fly over by myself?"
"Sure. Just don't—well, I don't know, blow anything up, I guess," Bulma replied with a smirk. She wondered what it would be like to be a normal mom, one who warned her children against strangers and oncoming traffic and the sort. Truthfully, if anything ever posed a threat to Trunks, it would be less of a stranger-danger issue, and much more of an apocalypse situation…which, of course, would not be the first her family had encountered and survived (technically).
The half-Saiyan gave his mother a thumbs up before shooting into the air and disappearing in a flash of light. Giving a smile to the lingering gleam in the sky, Bulma turned and entered the house. "Shoulda made him help me with our laundry, first," she muttered to herself, staring with detest at the basket of fresh-from-the-line spandex shorts and other assorted active-wear. Before she could begin folding, however, the babe in her arms began to sob loudly. "Woah, hey, what's wrong?" the scientist cooed, holding the child up and examining her. As a mother, Bulma could easily recognize Bra's usual fits and tears: "hungry," "tired," and "need to be changed," all had very distinct and identifiable sounds. This, however, was alien. "Bra sweety, what is it?"
As she fruitlessly questioned the infant, Bulma heard the front door slam, accompanied by a mixture of gruff and good-hearted chatter. "Now what," she said to herself, rolling her eyes; she knew the pair only ever stopped training before dark if there was a situation. With a to-do list the size of Shenron and a screaming baby, the scientist did not have time for a Saiyan situation. Continuing to rock and whisper soothing words to Bra, she reluctantly went towards the voices.
"Oh, hey Bulma! Sorry to bother you, but—aw, look at her! She's already grown since the last time I saw her! They grow up so fast. What's wrong, little one?" Goku chimed, bending down to eye-level with the blue-haired infant, whose cries only intensified at the sight of the friendly Saiyan.
Bulma, however, completely ignored Goku's comments, her attention occupied by the bloody mess all over her floor and husband. "GOKU what did you DO?" She demanded, rounding on her old friend, teeth clenched and face an angry crimson.
"Wha—oh, yeah! Sorry, it was an accident, we were sparring and I guess my boot got him," Goku replied with a nervous smile, rubbing the back of his head.
"Yeah, I'll say, he's bleeding all over my house," the scientist huffed, eyes transitioning seamlessly from anger to sympathy as they moved to the injured Saiyan, who held a firm hand over the large gash on his opposite forearm. "Are you ok? Come on, I'll walk you to the infirmary." Although projected over the volume of their bawling child, Bulma's tone rang tender and compassionate.
Vegeta glared at his sparring partner, his expression registering only annoyance and not an ounce of pain. "I do not require anything from the infirmary, only something to cover this annoying wound so that we may continue," he spat, gaze moving to his mate.
"Fine, it's your blood—which you will be cleaning up, by the way," the heiress said stiffly, tone and posture losing any essence of sympathy it previously held. "Here, take her, I'll get a bandage." She handed the howling Bra to Goku, who took her clumsily, and prompted yet again an increase in the babe's hysterics.
Paling, as he often did when it came to the questionable safety of his daughter, Vegeta snarled. "Do not allow my offspring to be held by this clown!" He released his gushing laceration, wiped his hand on his shorts, and snatched the infant from Goku's arms, all in one quick and svelte motion. Sniveling, Bra's crying slowly lessened, then stopped.
"VEGETA you're going to get blood all over her, would you cut it-" Bulma stopped short, bandage in hand, noticing the absence of sobs. "Huh, she stopped crying," she stated, carefully wrapping her husband's arm.
His cheeks and ears immediately flushing, the Saiyan Prince scowled. "She probably did not want to be handled by Kakarot, I'm sure," he said stiffly.
"No, she was crying before you guys came in," the scientist replied. She then grinned, slowly putting the pieces together. "I don't think it's that she didn't want to be held by Goku, Vegeta. I think she wanted to be held by you!"
Goku, too, grinned. "Aw, she wanted her daddy!" he exclaimed innocently, poking the shorter Saiyan in the ribs.
"SHUT UP, that—that is preposterous!" Vegeta insisted, eye twitching and entire face now a deep shade of red.
At the sound of her father's voice, Bra laughed wildly, prompting both Bulma and Goku to do the same. The Prince of All Saiyans briskly returned the babe to its mother and stormed off.
