Kapitel: An Interesting Evening At Dinner

Und wieder was auf englisch !!!! Naja...ich arbeite dran^^ also viel Spaß !!

“God damn you, Vegeta!!” she screamed out into the delivery room. She lashed out with a fist and caught an unlucky doctor in the eye. Sweat ran
down her red face and she yelled out in pain once again. “God damn you!!” she screamed again, and more doctors rushed to restrain her.

“Please, Bulma, calm down,” one of the doctors pleaded. “You have to concentrate on pushing the baby out!”

“Screw you!” she screamed, and lashed out. “I’m in PAIN!”

“I know, ma’am, but you have to calm down, for the sake of the baby...” another doctor said, and immediately received Bulma’s heel with his jaw. He
crumpled to the floor and the other doctors rushed in.

“Wow, she’s a lot stronger than I thought,” Goku said with a low whistle. ChiChi laughed beside him. “Your delivery wasn’t this bad,” he added to
his wife.

“How do you know?” she asked sharply. “You were hardly even conscious! You almost passed out when my water broke!”

Vegeta snickered. Goku’s head whipped around to face the other man. “ChiChi,” he muttered, cheeks red, “you didn’t have to say that...”

Vegeta looked at him out of the corner of his eye but didn’t say anything. He was actually having a more difficult time than he imagined watching the
birth. Seeing her stretched out like that and all the different fluids was turning his stomach over. He was glad to know that Goku had failed to tolerate it
more severely than himself. He tensed when he heard Bulma’s screaming stop and she just started to cry. His stomach tightened as he realized just how
much pain she was in. His face betrayed no emotion, however, which earned him another of Goku’s low whistles. Vegeta shot him another look and
was glad the delivery table was situated so they couldn’t really see any of Bulma’ anatomy. He didn’t want any one unnecessarily looking at his mate.

Her cries escalated and the doctors squealed in unison. Cries of “the head, the head” echoed through the room. Bulma yelled in a final effort, and the
doctor nearest to her held up the baby in triumph. Vegeta blanched as he looked at the infant. He had had no idea that they came out so...gooey.

The doctor smiled at him through the glass, then looked at the child and almost dropped it as he saw the tail. Bulma made a weak noise, causing the
other doctors to hover over her, wiping her brow. The doctor touched the tail tentatively, which sent the infant into a fit of screaming. Vegeta frowned
and walked towards the door to the room.

He burst through the door and snatched the baby away from the doctor, getting baby juice all over his bodysuit and gloves. The baby stopped crying
and blinked at him. Vegeta looked down at it with his customary mocking smile and ran a few fingers over the long brown tail. He looked up at the
doctor. “He’s mine,” he said arrogantly. “He got the tail from me.”

The doctor laughed nervously. “Y-yes, sir. Would you, um, like to cut the cord?” he stammered, offering Vegeta a pair of scissors. Vegeta nodded but
ignored the scissors, instead leaning over and biting the cord in two. He heard a thump outside the room and looked up in time to see Goku’s feet still
sticking up in the air. Vegeta chuckled a little, then held up his index finger. The doctor looked at him first in confusion, then in shock as the index
finger began to glow. Vegeta pressed his finger to the end of the cord, cauterizing it. He began to move, and the doctor backed away, the other doctors
imitating their colleague as Vegeta moved to his mate’s head.

Bulma looked up at him wearily. “Trunks?” she murmured. He nodded and placed the infant on her chest. She cooed and cradled him. “He’s
perfect,” she whispered, looking up at Vegeta, eyes filling with tears of joy. He smiled at her and laid a hand on her head.

“Ooooh...he can be sweet!” ChiChi cried from outside the room, ignoring the groans of her husband. “I’m so glad he called us!” she chirped,
clasping her hands to her bosom.

Vegeta frowned first at the twittering ChiChi, then at the doctors who were taking the child away. Bulma looked at him with a mixture of nervousness
and uncertainty. “Are you sure?” she murmured.

He nodded. “Remove the tail,” he directed the doctor holding the baby. The doctor consented and left the room. Bulma looked up and noticed how
tight Vegeta’s jaw was. Those words hadn’t been easy for him to say. She reached out and touched his forearm. He looked down at her. “Saves us
some trouble with diapers,” he muttered and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. She laughed out loud,never expecting to hear something so
domestic come out of his mouth.

“The prince’s son is the prince’s son, whether he has a tail or not,” she laughed, then fell silent in exhaustion. The doctors dashed over and began to
wheel her away. Vegeta rushed over and stopped them, staring each and every one of them down until they backed off. Picking Bulma up off of the
gurney, he motioned for the doctors to lead the way. Bulma nestled into his arms, grateful to be in his warm embrace. She finally felt justified in letting
him back into her life.

After a few weeks, however, she began to wonder about him again. He never stayed in the house; he was always off training or doing god only knew
what. She found herself saddled almost entirely with taking care of the baby. The only thing that had changed was he came home and stayed home
every evening after dinner and he would sometimes come stand with her in the nursery if Trunks cried in the night. He hadn’t touched Trunks since the
birth, and seemed totally disinterested in her as well.
She decided to approach him about it at dinner.

“Vegeta, why don’t you ever help with Trunks?” she blurted out halfway through the meal.

He looked at her with disdain. “That’s your job.”

“What? Um, you helped make him, you know, and so I think you can help raise him as well.”

“No,” he stated simply, and continued eating.

She started to get angry and tightened her grip on her knife. “What?” she hissed. “I had to spend so many terrible hours throwing up, being sore, and
not to mention labor, and you won’t even change his diaper?”

Vegeta looked at her levelly. “No.”

“Augh! You terrible man! I could understand if maybe you were BUSY or something, but you don’t do anything but train! I’m the one that works to
feed us, and then I have to take care of Trunks all by myself?” she said as she slammed her knife down on the table.

His dark eyes looked at her without emotion. “You can do it, you’re the strongest woman I know,” he muttered.

She was shocked, both because of his refusal to help and his unexpected compliment. She sighed, anger wavering. “It’s not a question of whether I
can do it or not. I guess I really just want to know why you won’t help.”

“I’m the prince,” he said, looking at her again with those fathomless eyes.

She growled. “So you think you’re above taking care of your own children, do you? Well, I’ll show you where to go,” she spat and began to roll up
her sleeves.

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “You misunderstand me,” he said sharply. “I was the only Saiyajin child who wasn’t shipped off world
almost immediately after birth. But I also had the Saiyajin king for a father. That’s what I meant when I said that I was the prince.”

She sat back in her chair, confused. She had forgotten that Saiyajin children were shipped off so young. Vegeta was the least tender, although the most
passionate, person she knew. He was raised to be without emotion. Then she understood; he had rarely seen his father, and since his own father was a
parent only by blood and name, he had no idea how to be a father to his own children. “Oh,” she murmured. Shifting in her chair uncomfortably, she
looked at him, perplexed. “Well,” she breathed, “I’m sure you can figure everything out. Despite what I usually tell you, I really do think you’re a
smart man. I guess that’s part of why I let you into my life; if I just wanted strong and not smarts, I would’ve chased after Goku a long time ago.” She
laughed a little at her own joke, then settled down when she saw he wasn’t amused. “What I mean is just watch me, and I’m sure you’ll learn very
quickly.”

“Fine. If that’s what you want,” he said, voice low.

She rose from her chair and walked around the table to stand by him. “It’s everything to me,” she murmured and kissed him on the cheek. His face
reddened and he stood up hastily, striding out of the room. She laughed after him and began to pick up the dinner dishes.

As Bulma cleaned he wandered quietly up the stairs. He floated an inch or two above the floor so he didn’t make any noise and entered the nursery.
Trunks lay sleeping in his crib. Vegeta went over to him and peered down at the tiny body. Leaning against the crib rail, he removed a glove and reached
down to touch the feathery lavender hair that graced the boy’s head. The baby stirred and Vegeta pulled his hand away like the boy was a venomous
snake. A phone rang somewhere in the distance and he slowly replaced his glove. The boy smelled like a Saiyajin, with just a hint of Bulma. He smiled,
nodding in approval, and left the room.

He was in the bedroom staring at the ceiling as Bulma crawled into bed. He didn’t glance at her as she turned on her side to look at him. Her eyes
traveled down his sharp profile and muscular chest. His hands were clasped behind that head with the terrible spiky tower of hair. She reached out and
gently touched that crazy hair, causing him to glance over at her in annoyance. She pulled her hand away and propped herself up on one elbow. “I need
you to take Trunks tomorrow,” she