Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Decoding the Saiyan ❯ Family Dinner ( Chapter 22 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: This chapter was written using the prompt `family dinner' from the Earth Customs Challenge on the Blue & Black LJ community. As far as I can tell, there are only four more chapters left after this one. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers :)

Family Dinner

“Oh Vegeta, you're just in time for dinner!” her mother called, and Bulma looked up in surprise, almost dropping the bowl of peas she was carrying to the table. Her eyes met his, and she flushed, noticing the humour that danced in his black eyes. He was laughing at her.

The baby, already strapped into his high chair, shrieked in sudden delight- most likely because of all the food that was being piled onto the table- and drew Vegeta's attention. Bulma set the bowl of peas down, glancing under her lashes at Vegeta as she did so. He hadn't seen much of their younger son, and it was interesting to watch them together.

“Oooo!” the baby cried suddenly, pointing a chubby finger at Vegeta. “Ooo!” Bulma laughed as Vegeta's eyes widened in surprise at being addressed in such a manner, and bent down towards her baby, smiling.

“That's Daddy,” she grinned. “Can you say Da-da?”

“Bleh!” Trunks cried, kicking his chubby legs.

“Da-da, say Da-da,” she continued, pointing at Vegeta. Trunks giggled, showing off his gummy smile, and blew a raspberry.

“Oh, you silly baby!” she cooed, tickling him. “Are you hungry?” she asked, kissing his head. “I bet you are! I bet you are, my little Saiyan man!” she continued, her voice rising and falling in a sing-song of baby talk as Trunks grinned up at her. “Yes you are! Here you go!” she added, handing the baby a hunk of peeled, boiled potato. “You eat that while Mama gets her food.”

She straightened up, and was surprised to find that Vegeta was still watching her, an indecipherable expression on his face. She smiled back at him, noticing the clean clothes he wore and his damp hair- he'd obviously just finished showering. “I was beginning to think we wouldn't see you again before the big battle,” she blurted.

“I need to use the gravity machine,” he replied, taking a seat at the table as her mother brought over a plateful of roast chicken. Before she could reply, her mother interrupted.

“Bulma, be a dear and call your father and that handsome boy for me, the food is growing cold!”

“Kay,” she replied, already halfway to the intercom on the wall. She pressed the button for the lab- her father had gone to show Trunks their progress on Sixteen half an hour before- and yelled “Hey! Vegeta's eating all the Dinner!”

She heard Vegeta snort behind her, and laughed.

For a moment, she could almost forget that there was only four days left until the Cell Games.

. . .

She was full, and sat back in her chair, watching in amazement as Vegeta and the older Trunks continued to eat. She met her dad's eye over the table and grinned, seeing that he was thinking the same thing.

“Like father like son,” she murmured, and both men paused to stare at her, identical expressions of surprise etched on their faces, forks hovering halfway to their mouths. She laughed as they each noticed the other's expression, grunted, and continued eating in unison.

It struck her suddenly that as unorthodox as they all were, they were a family. Her heart twisted at the thought that Vegeta was unlikely to admit to such a thing, and she chewed on her lip as she stood to lift her dozing baby from his high chair, contemplating.

. . .

“Dinner was nice,” she commented, stepping out into the cool air. Vegeta grunted in reply, his eyes trained on the darkening skyline.

They were alone on the balcony, and Bulma closed the ranch slider door behind her for added privacy, despite the fact that the living room was currently empty.

She took a deep breath of the fresh air and watched as a flock of starlings flew across the city, thinking This is the calm before the storm. There was a sense of peace in the air, and she loathed to disturb it, but at the same time she knew that this was possibly her last chance to really speak to Vegeta before the Cell Games. Tomorrow he would be back into heavy training, and she would be working on the Android again. And so, she braced herself for the plunge.

“If we all survive, what will you do once the Cell Games are over?” she asked him, her voice calm.

He didn't look at her, but she saw the muscle in his jaw jump. “Defeat Kakarot,” he answered quietly, his eyes still watching the horizon.

She pursed her lips, disliking the idea, but pushed all thoughts of a battle between Goku and Vegeta aside. “And then what?”

“What would you like me to say?” he shot back snidely, suddenly rounding on her. “That I'll stay here on this mud-ball, backwater planet?”

She lifted her chin, staring him in the eye. “You know damn well that this is a nice place. I know I haven't been to many other planets -”

“No, you haven't; you don't have any idea -”

“But,” she continued, glaring at him in a bid to make him listen, “you could belong here. You could have a home. This can be your home.”

He sneered, his upper lip curling back over his teeth. “You are presumptuous, Bulma. You have no idea what I want.”

She sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “I think you're getting so uppity because you don't even know what you want any more.” He shot her a dark glare, opening his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

“You need to choose, Vegeta. I want you. You can live here, with me, and this can be your home.” She swallowed, feeling a lump forming in her throat, and willed for the tears to stay away. “I love you,” she continued, staring into his eyes. She saw something flicker in them for an instant, and it gave her hope. “I will love you, and give you everything I can. But you need to choose to accept it, because I can't keep giving when there is this uncertainty about whether you'll even return at the end of each day. I need to know, so you need to make a choice to either stay or...”

She looked away, blinking, and wiped quickly at the tears that had blurred her vision. “Just… think about it, okay?” she asked, looking at him once more. The light was fading quickly, and she couldn't make out much of his features, but could tell he'd slipped his impassive mask back into place.

She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and kissed him chastely on the lips, imprinting the smell and taste of him to memory, just in case- in case they died, in case he never came back. “I know you've been alone for so long,” she whispered in his ear, her hands brushing his shoulders, “but you don't have to be any more. If you stay here with me, I promise you, you'll never be alone again.”

She planted a final kiss on his cheek, and stepped back, heading for the door. With one foot over the threshold, she paused, and looked back over her shoulder. Vegeta was nothing but a black silhouette against the skyline.

“If you decide that you'd rather leave, don't come to my bedroom again. You can keep the ship.”