Hey all! So, this chapter will be the second to last chapter of this story! Chapter 20 will be my final instalment. I have enjoyed writing it so much, and have loved reading all of your comments and reviews. I hope you'll all check out (and follow?) my new multiple chapter submission (Domesticate You), and be on the lookout for my next work, which will take us to Veggie and Bra during the teen years ;) Thanks again for your support and reads. It means the world 3
Disclaimer: You know the drill
XIX.
Just Like You
Click, click, click…Bulma edged up the volume on the baby monitor, then further settled into the comfort of the plush, king-sized bed. She exhaled deeply, allowing the stress of the day to flow from her exhausted body. She looked over at her husband, who she truly believed was the only being in the universe that could appear un-relaxed 24-7, as he stiffly sat, face pensive. "What's up?" she prodded, sensing there was more than just his usual uptight attitude at work inside the thick Saiyan-skull.
"I do not know why you use that machine. I can hear the child stir without such a device," Vegeta stated indignantly.
The scientist rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe you can, but I can't. Unless that was you offering to check on her every time she fusses for the rest of her childhood?"
"Hn."
"Yeah, I didn't think so. Now, tell me what you're actually being Mr. Moody about." Bulma rolled over, propping her head on her elbow, full attention now on the Saiyan Prince. She had always thought he would master, or at least improve, his deflection skills, as he spent so often doing it. But, after many years of marriage, it had become clear this was not the case.
The Saiyan shifted slightly, forever discomforted at the ease with which is mate could read him. If she knew anything about combat, and humans weren't so pathetically weak, she could have been an extremely formidable opponent on the battlefield; she would predict her adversary's every move. "I was thinking about the future," he replied with a sigh, looking down at his crossed arms. "I am concerned."
"About Bra, you mean?" The scientist had caught him lingering over their daughter's crib earlier in the evening, and suspected this behavior was connected to his current temperament.
Vegeta nodded. "I am concerned that…she will be like you."
Bulma blinked. "Well, she could turn out a lot worse!" she snapped, brows furrowing. "Explain, please."
The Saiyan gritted his teeth and shook his head. "I will if you calm down and give me the chance," he growled. The woman was so insufferably hard to please; she was angry when he did not "communicate," yet would become equally angry when he tried to. "This is a fine example—I am the Prince of All Saiyans, the greatest warrior race, and I could decimate you with a single finger. I should for the way you speak to me."
"Ok, not following your logic at all," the beautiful scientist replied, crossing her arms. "You're afraid our daughter will grow up and be rude to you? Hello, Vegeta, have you met you? Of course she will. I mean, Kami, that's what teenagers do to their parents—even parents that aren't as difficult as you-"
"No, that is not what I mean," Vegeta interrupted, eye twitching uncontrollably. "I mean, you have no sense! You are a weak human, yet you constantly, knowingly put yourself in harm's way. Even our union was forged after you stupidly allowed me to reside in your home, when I could have easily killed you. I could have," he paused and made a fist, "I could have done whatever I wanted to you because you were foolish enough to trust me. You are always so trusting. She cannot be like that. She will get hurt." The Saiyan imagined his now wife, young and helpless, cavorting about Old Namek while he and numerous other powerful beings decimated the innocents who lived there. One different circumstance and she could have been killed. Hell, it could have been he who killed her. He then imagined his sweet infant daughter, the same beautiful blue hair and eyes, innocently wandering in a universe full of so much evil; he swallowed, hard.
"Hey," Bulma leaned forward, tone suddenly sympathetic, and put a hand on her husband's cheek. "Trusting you is the smartest thing I ever did. And I'm pre-tty smart," she said, running the hand up his cheek, past his ear and into his hair. "She will probably get hurt. Boys will break her heart, and the world won't always be fair. Maybe she'll be adventurous like me, and maybe she'll run off, searching for dragon balls on far away planets. But she won't just be like me. She'll be like you, too—super strong, proud, and never down for the count. Give her the chance to prove herself before you start spending every night freaking out." She winked, slinking her leg over his and positioning herself in his lap, arms resting around his neck.
The Saiyan slid his hands around her waist, despite the irritated look on his face. "When are you going to stop accusing me of that?" he queried, gazing intently at his mate.
"When you stop doing it," the genius replied, leaning in and softly kissing his nose. "We're a while away from worrying about any of that just yet," she assured the prince. "But, someday, I do hope she trusts someone like you." She kissed him a second time, and he began to unbutton (with great irritation and little patience) her nightgown.
