Four chapters total, updated gradually.

Bulma blamed Chi Chi for the now-routine baked treats she received when their husbands were off training for longer periods or galivanting to other planets in search of god knows what. Bulma wouldn't trade her family life for anything, given how hard she and her friends fought to preserve peace on Earth for all. Still, the brainy scientist, mother of two, wife and all-around warrior needed occasional furloughs from heroism too. Though Vegeta would win "best actor" for crabbiness, over the past few months, Bulma had been quickly racking up points toward earning that label. Yet, amid all that, Vegeta remained attentive and open to sharing his curiosity and life observations, strengthening their family's bond.

Meanwhile, his wife felt rundown. At age nineteen, their son Trunks was wedged between "I still need mom and dad today, or over the next five days. But… maybe I won't need them next week or the rest of the month." Vegeta took their son's exploration of early adulthood more in stride. Bulma not so much.

Worse, she felt guilty about her testiness. Vegeta's harsh and mostly coerced introduction to adulthood began before he could barely walk erect as a child, but the circumstances were extremely knotty because of Saiyan culture and, later, Frieza's despicable authority. Despite a few close calls amid life-threatening events, Trunks mostly got to be a fun-loving boy. Yet both parents had well-armed their son with mature, indispensable skills that Trunks took seriously and could execute when duty called.

Bulla, their five-year-old daughter, was genius-level. But unlike her mother, the girl's adventurous side was more subdued. Bulma already knew how to fly a plane and work on spaceships at that age. Bulla wasn't as interested and leaned more toward higher introversion, which proved less relatable to Bulma than she thought it would – another source of parental guilt. Before that, Bulma believed herself to be an open-minded mom and undoubtedly didn't consider introversion a piteous disease. Practically her entire family - father, older sister and husband – fit into this category across a broad scale.

Despite being a party aficionada, expressive extravert and hairstyle performance artist - Bulma also prickled at being stereotyped. No one could question her general's stripes, given her nearly unparalleled talents. Her labor and drive equaled those of her husband, if not more.

She didn't mind that Bulla gravitated more toward Vegeta's doting. She expected that would happen shortly after giving birth. Starlight beamed from the child's eyes as her flexing hands fondled daddy's bristly chin. The stern, scrutinizing crook on the side of Vegeta's mouth elevated into the relaxed smile of an overjoyed father. He saved it like a photo, showing it when his princess nudged him for a hug or shared something new with him.

Lately, what left Bulma feeling hurt and baffled was that Bulla didn't appear to like her as much. The little girl wasn't disrespectful – though she could be stubborn – but she seemed to prefer everyone but mommy to meet more of her emotional and social desires, which her mother felt more acutely. With everyone out of the house a few days, Bulma drowned her sorrows in a bowl of tangled ramen heaped with meat and veggies, griping on the phone with Chi Chi.

"You have no idea how much all this fucking sucks, Chi Chi. Bulla isn't even a teenager yet. I can't... imagine how difficult things might be, considering how she's behaving now."

"Why haven't you brought this up with Vegeta? He might help you think through this more."

"Because I don't want to."

"Because you don't want to?" Chi Chi hammered her phone's receiver on her trinket-covered kitchen table. She got one more bang in, and then took a breath. "What kind of bullshit answer is that?"

Bulma screeched, dropping her chopsticks. "What the hell?! Don't screw around with my hearing like that! How would you like it if I fractured your cooking hands?!"

"Sorry not sorry," Chi Chi replied, tickled by the reaction. "You really shouldn't be embarrassed, Bulma. Remember how jealous I got at times when I could barely pry my youngest kid off his dad? It's just a phase."

"It's not jealousy, though." Bulma's fingers inched back to her fallen chopsticks. "I'm just spoiled because of Trunks. He equally liked being around me and his father. Still does – when he's not running around town chasing pretty girls."

Chi Chi got up, tightening a shiny emerald-green ribbon tied around a black box. "Yeah, I feel your pain. He's a fantastic young man, though. You've done well. So let's change the subject briefly. My special delivery should be arriving at your door later today. Use them wisely."

"Use them?" Bulma's frown eased. Chi Chi's gifts never disappointed, and this sounded like a particularly interesting one. "I've never heard you describe food as a 'them' before. Is that what's rustling in the background? What freshly caught creature will I be forced to cook? Crabs? Snails? Oysters?"

"You can buy lots of those yourself," Chi Chi clucked. "Be patient. When is Vegeta leaving? Don't worry about Bulla either. She's in great hands with my son and granddaughter on Mount Paozu. It's beautiful and tranquil around my father's house this time of year. Gohan has always been a natural with children, especially the quieter ones."

"I'm glad she's found a friend in Pan, just like our boys did when they were younger. Anyway, Trunks is collecting Vegeta for their father-son road trip in about ninety minutes. I expect my hubby to lumber into the kitchen right about - "

"I don't lumber, Bulma," Vegeta muttered, drying his hair vigorously with both hands. He lifted the curtain-size bath towel, revealing his face. "Elephants lumber. Saiyans stalk."

"Right about now, Chi Chi," Bulma sighed, plopping her arms on the table. "Right about now."

"That's my cue!" Chi Chi chirped. "Bye, dear!"

With all the noodles, meat and vegetables devoured, Bulma stared plaintively into her lukewarm bowl of broth. After ransacking the fridge for energy shakes, Vegeta observed his very quiet wife with curious interest. Bulma usually made a beeline to kiss and playfully badger him before most of his away-from-home journeys.

Eying her more closely, he put his glass down. "You feeling OK?"

Bulma opened a hand mirror, dabbing balm onto her lips. "Yep. All good over here, hon. Where's your travel bag?"

"It's been capsulized and now resides my pocket, as usual."

"Excellent," Bulma said, hoping to mosey past without much trouble. She also wanted to resist the sweet, sweet temptation of her mother's homemade daifuku inside the fridge. "I'll sweep through the bedroom to make sure you haven't forgotten anything."

"Whatever I may have forgotten is probably unnecessary for a weeklong trip," Vegeta replied dryly. "Are you sure you're OK, Bulma?"

"Yes, Vegeta. I expect you and Trunks to have a wonderful time."

"Consider me shocked that my wife wishes me well!"

To get him off her back, Bulma tried another distraction – a delicious kiss. She aggressively seized his enticingly snug T-shirt. Vegeta's nostrils flared as their eyes reunited.

"Your lip gloss smells good," he said as her tongue glided over his lips. "Stick with that one."

"Stay out of fistfights," Bulma said, diving into a deeper kiss. "I'm going to the office instead. No one is expecting me, so it will be fun to shake things up."

"Uh huh, I'm sure everyone will appreciate having their one peaceful day disturbed by you," Vegeta replied, unbuttoning the top of her blouse. "Though I fully endorse this novel employee torture plan."

"Hold on now, tiger." Ungluing her thirsty eyes and ignited libido from Vegeta's cocky smile, Bulma dragged his arms down. "Those kisses are all you get today."

"It's rude to start something and not finish." Vegeta's head sloped forward, winning his last smooch like a pro. "Your loss, nevertheless. So now that your distraction attempt has failed, may I have the truth?"

"OK," Bulma replied, moving away from him. "I'm sorry about my minor dishonesty, honey. The truth is I'm not ready to talk about it, and it could be that way for a while longer. There's no emerging catastrophe involved, so put your battle armor away. I'm just sorting things out in my mind."

Vegeta's arms crossed behind his back, a reflex habit acquired from Bulma's father. When his daughters felt troubled, Dr. Brief usually gave low-key "I'm keeping my eye on you" reminders. Bulma considered teasing her husband about his "cuteness," but more banter likely would have led to petting naked body parts, and she didn't want to be held responsible for delaying his departure.

"Fair is fair," he said. "I'm not one to complain about needing solo time to reflect. Make good use of it."

Bulma didn't stick around long to watch her boys drive off. Trunks had worked attentively to find outfits his father would tolerate – and mostly for his own benefit. Both were decked in matching sunglasses and too-cool-for-school early summer attire. If girls his age came around to flirt, Trunks didn't want his dad wrecking their "total presentation," though he also took great care not to be upstaged. Having an attractive and incredibly fit parent – the ideal "dad I'd love to fuck" - had drawbacks. Usually, Vegeta was oblivious when women sought out his attention. The highly assertive ladies got shut down swiftly with a broad display of his platinum wedding wing, constricted eyes and waspish frown. No dialogue needed.

Bulma always found it hilarious when Vegeta self-consciously "confessed" after some poor, ignorant woman made the titanic mistake of approaching him. Though infidelity ranked zero on Bulma's pyramid of concerns, she was more than happy to reward Vegeta's regard for her with kissing instead of joking.

"If only those women knew," she lightheartedly gloated to her mother. "They would be in over their heads with him - unlike me."

Working at the office kept her gloominess at bay. There, she couldn't brood about the impracticality of wanting another "last chance" kid with Vegeta. It would have been nice. She didn't have to worry about her parents, who had all the technology in their hands to keep themselves relatively safe, yet neither took complex precautions as they crisscrossed Earth and planet hopped while they still could. Wholly at ease with their choices, Dr. Brief and Panchy refused to fret about much, especially death. The doctor's health was failing because of an extremely rare condition, which the family still hoped could be cured.

One day, after he couldn't endure another angsty squabble between Bulma and her parents, Vegeta scooped her up and took off flying. His fuming wife turned her back when they finally alighted in a park on West City's eastern border – far enough to prevent Bulma's wrath from charbroiling innocent bystanders.

"This stops right now," he demanded. "There's no logical reason for making everyone, including yourself, this miserable. Your parents are a team, just like us. Imagine how you'd feel if our children tried to impose arbitrary commands when we're old but still in our right minds. I'd probably have to restrain you from cutting off their legs with a laser gun."

Bulma began to cry, admitting her anxiety. They all were getting older, and she felt vulnerable. They'd cheated death so many times together, and now her parents were ready to pass the rod of family leadership completely to her. Her humble father, one of the sharpest engineers of his generation, constantly had a steady hand and kind words for everyone. He challenged Bulma to be relentless with her intellect, pushing her to new heights of accomplishment. They were kindred spirits in every way.

Her sleek executive chair swiveled, facing a diamond-shaped wall display of family pictures. One showed her jumping into her dad's arms after receiving a new motorbike. She was sixteen and full of gusto.

Kindred spirits. Yep, that's dad and me, just like my Bulla and Vegeta.

Bulma left her office door open as an invitation. Her executive secretary had been asked to assemble a small group of everyday employees who didn't interact often with Capsule Corporation's top executives, let alone the daughter of the company's founder. Through the afternoon the workers had her undivided attention, leaving inspired and delighted by how much she cared about their interests and concerns.

That evening, she hopped on one foot into the house from the rear garage, dropping one shoe into an overflowing basket of women's footwear. A mechanical support leapt from the wall, catching the other shoe after she kicked it into the air.

She clapped her hands. "Mission accomplished. Well done."

A woman's likeness appeared just above the shoe basket. From her attire, anyone could have mistaken her for a fossilized boarding-school principal: big horn-rimmed glasses, stiffly pinned hair bun and a pleated blouse buttoned up to her chin. The perfect computerized assistant.

"You'll hurt yourself doing that one day, ma'am."

Bulma laughed, brushing her hair vigorously. "Not if I have you to catch me, Belle. You're the next best alternative to Vegeta."

"Remember, Dr. Brief, that you almost tumbled down a steep flight of stairs while you were seven-months pregnant and already having trouble walking. If Vegeta had not caught you –"

"Yes, my memory of what happened is unspoiled, Belle. I shouldn't have lugged that laundry carrier in my condition while daydreaming, but Vegeta forgave me. At least he folded everything. Life happens."

"That's easy for you to say!" Belle countered. "He blamed me. It's always 'condemn the machine' when the real culprits are human error and arrogance. You disabled my sensors in that location – and for the life of me, why didn't you program the auto-helper to manage the laundry that week anyway?"

Bulma exploded, flailing her hairbrush. "Because I was working on the circuits around there! Now if you keep haranguing me like this, I may shut off everything until everyone gets home!"

"Oh?" Belle pulled off her glasses, squinting. "Is that so? Then you'll be buying yourself a one-way ticket to an unhappy husband's instantaneous return. It will be impossible to blame me for that then."

While the assistant observed, a battalion of mechanical doodads sprang from all sides, taking Bulma's jacket and shoulder bag, handing her a towering glass of mint and lemon water and offering warmed slippers to soothe her bare feet. Belle's voice trailed her programmer's march to the master bedroom, reading the top lines of emails flagged on Bulma's phone for further consideration.

A beautifully decorated black box and card had been placed near the foot of the bed. Bulma yelped, excited to see what Chi Chi sent. It had to be a brand-new sweets recipe!

She hugged the unopened card to her chest, spinning to look at Belle. "Thanks for having this brought in here."

Belle's likeness shrank into a tiny red dot and faded. "As requested, you'll hear nothing else from me tonight while on standby. All other house services and tools are at your disposal and calibrated for peak performance. Enjoy your privacy and delicacies."

Everything about the gift's presentation intrigued Bulma. The greeting card, however, blew her away. A big foil-stamp cutout of a green leaf decorated the front and back.

"Dear Bulma, so, our family keeps a little secret that Hercule and I want to share because we love you…"

Bulma convulsed with laughter. "Pot brownies!" She fell back on the bed, kicking her legs up. "They sent me edibles?! Oh my god! They're out of their ever-loving minds!"

The slab of fudge brownies had been precision cut into square bite-size chunks. Bulma picked one, nibbling as she continued reading the card.

"…Each piece contains an exact dose of THC, which is low enough not to make you see invisible insects but leaves you buzzed enough to try eating roasted crickets later. Thank Hercule's dispensary. They keep preparations safe for human consumption."

Bulma took a larger bite, debating whether to call Chi Chi. "Hell, I hope they would keep it safe. Never would have guessed those two were living the high life. Well, I guess it does make sense in some ways. Hercule has been less twitchy for a while now."

"…I know you're smart and all, dear, but please pace yourself. Wait two hours between every four pieces. However, as a smaller woman, I don't think you'll need more than that. I never do. Oh, and do be careful with hungry Saiyans. Goku found my stash and, of course, didn't ask me what it was before gobbling. He was stoned out of his gourd but very, very sweet all the way through. Sex was phenomenal too."

Gasping through her laughter, Bulma took the plunge and dialed. "Yeah, I doubt she tried that hard to hide her goodies from him."

"Why hello, stranger!" Chi Chi answered with great cheer. "I guess this means you like my present. Sounds like you're chewing."

"They're delicious," Bulma mumbled, licking her fingers. "I'll stick with your instructions, but my god, trying not to devour them is hard! Do your children know you've gone organic?"

"Yes, my kids know about me and Hercule. Gohan and Videl say as long as we're happy, while Goten is quietly embarrassed. Both are good enough for me."

"Hmm." Bulma touched her chin. "I guess that's why Trunks hasn't said anything."

"Aren't you curious about why Goku hasn't tattled to anyone?"

"Stop being dramatic and spill the tea, Chi Chi!"

Chi Chi's mind lingered on the thought. "He doesn't want Vegeta to know."

"Vegeta wouldn't care," Bulma said. "In fact, I guarantee that my husband would shove his fingers into his ears and run away."

"It's… not just about the sex, Bulma. I think Goku is somewhat jealous of how happy your marriage seems now."

"Goku?" Bulma rose, removing her shirt and earrings. "Jealous? You're his wife, so I guess I'll take your word for it, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"He wouldn't tell me to stop eating them, but he feels guilty – as if I'm burying my troubles with a plate of fudge every two or three weeks solely because of him. I've explained that I'm feeling good, living my life, enjoy being a grandma - and I'm pleased to be less fussy about everything because I'm learning more about myself. Doesn't mean I love Goku any less, but neither he nor our kids are the center of my life anymore."

"Vegeta isn't the center of my world either."

"What I'm saying is, Bulma, on the surface, you don't fit the type."

"And what type is that?"

"We're both strong-willed, and though I care about our friends, they always will consider me more high-strung and judgmental – and may think I'll never have as much of a right to be. I mean, who the hell am I to stand in the way of multigenerational fighting greatness? I'm just a country-princess daddy's girl."

Bulma disagreed. "Yeah - a princess who also kicked ass in a fighting ring and kept her family together during hard times."

"I'm fine, Bulma," Chi Chi said softly. "You don't have to build me up. I do fit the type an unfulfilled, boring woman who should demand less. You have work, lots more money and crackerjack intelligence. Vegeta has many flaws, but there's no question that he deeply loves and is unarguably attracted to you. He may be quiet when you're around everyone, but it's written all over him. I guess... maybe Goku and I are both a bit jealous."

After a brief silence, Bulma exhaled. "Let's just dial it back here, hon. Even with all that, I'm at a crossroads too, and you just did a favor out of love for me because you understand what I'm going through. You, me, Goku, Vegeta – we've all been through a lot together. As their wives, we're equally challenged."

Chi Chi put her smiling face on video, hoping to reassure her friend. "And I told you that I am fine, Bulma. Keep communication lines open with Vegeta about your feelings, and, after he finds out, don't let him get away with thinking that what you're going through is all about him. If he gets huffy, you're also welcome to send him to me for education. Sleep well tonight, Ms. Brief."

Bulma dug out a new brownie, giving Chi Chi the peace sign. "Live long and prosper." Two hours later, she was lying across her fluffy king-size bed, one-hundred-percent naked… and baked.

This is my bed, damn it. My house. My world. Dr. Bulma Brief is here to stay, baby. Come and get me.

Hello - Whether you're new or a longtime follower, thanks for coming. I am pleased to share this story with you. Being perpetually intrigued by the inner lives of Women Married to Saiyans, my main head canon is Bulma and Chi Chi have to rely a lot more on each other emotionally than it appears. Thoughts?