Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unlikely Bond ❯ Agreement ( Chapter 63 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters! If I did, the anime would never end and GT would have never happened!

Story notes: This takes place ten years after the Buu saga. The only differences I can think of is that the whole thing with the world tournament in the last episode never happened and Goku didn't leave to train Uub. I wouldn't count on anything from the movies being part of this story's time line either, 'cause I haven't seen them all and they usually don't fit into the show's time line anyway. Especially that Broly crap. Vegeta cried through, like, that whole movie! That certainly didn't happen in this story....but, that's a different rant altogether. Hope you enjoy!

PLEASE heed warning in story description!! If you missed it, this story is not for children! It is also not for people who do not like stories that contain elements of violence, strong language, adult situations, references to sex and sexual activity between men and women, and men and other men. Oh, and fictional alien men having babies...'cause that's a'happen' here folks...

To my wonderful, wonderful beta-reader, Rowina: Thank you, thank you....thank you... ^-^


“Where are the boys?” Vegeta asked Goku when the younger Saiyan showed up for their sparring match.

“Taking a nap. Bulma and Chi Chi just got back from my hou- er - my old house and they’re watching them.” He fell into step beside the prince as they walked toward the center of the clearing they used for their fights. “We haven’t been out here in forever, it seems!” he spoke wistfully. “It’s like... coming home.... Breakfast was great, by the way, with all of us together like a family.”

“If it is acceptable to you, I suppose,” Vegeta replied.

Goku frowned.

“Do you not want us there?” he asked, concerned.

“If I didn’t,” the shorter man spoke seriously, stopping in the center of the field, “you wouldn’t be there.”

Goku’s smile returned.

“I sure hope you got enough sleep last night!” he said, crouching down into a fighting stance.

“I wouldn’t worry about me,” Vegeta returned. The truth, though, was that he'd had more sleep last night than the combined total of every night since the twins were born.

“No holding back,” Goku stated, but Vegeta understood that it was a request. The prince gave a sharp nod of agreement before launching into an attack. He was impressed that Kakkarot’s speed and reaction time had improved greatly since their last battle. He matched Vegeta punch for punch, and the prince held nothing back.

Goku was exhilarated by the battle. He could feel his muscles reacting on instinct to the motions, flexing and stretching with each move. His body was coming back to itself, as if waking from a deep sleep. It felt great to fight again... using his body for what it was intended.

The two Saiyans’ battled well past a third hour, never ascending, but pushing their limits of pure strength against strength. It was then that Goku’s mind began to wander, as fatigue and tenderness seeped into his muscles. Would he ever be the man he was before?

Vegeta threw a punch and Goku ducked, tucking his shoulder and rolling out of the prince’s range. When he jumped up, he held out a hand, causing Vegeta to halt abruptly.

“Time out!” Goku stated.

“Time out?” Vegeta repeated with an expression of annoyance. “You can surrender and you can admit defeat -- but you can not call ‘time out’.”

Goku grimaced, pinching the hem of his shirt and fanning the fabric to evaporate the sweat rolling down his chest.

“Then I lose this one, okay?” he retorted. “Gimme a second, will ya?”

Vegeta continued to scowl, watching the taller man with curiosity. He was enjoying the fight too damn much for the buffoon to ruin it now. He loved his children, but they were piss poor opponents for a Saiyan elite.

“What’s your problem?” he asked. Goku sighed heavily, giving a shake of his head.

“Let’s just head for home, okay?”

Vegeta crossed his arms and remained rooted where he stood.

“You’ve been bitching for months to spar, and now you're just going to walk away from the first fight we have that starts to be decent?!”

“Vegeta, it’s not important...” the younger man told him distractedly. “Maybe I just need to work back up to it. I haven’t gotten to do a lot of training --”

“You are a Saiyan, Kakkarot!” Vegeta interrupted. “You can last longer than three hours without training.”

“Maybe I just got less sleep than I thought --”

“I can personally attest to the fact that Saiyans can go for weeks without sleep,” the prince retorted.

Goku frowned, a tiny spark of irritation making his mouth twitch as he looked down at the shorter man. Vegeta was comparing his own experience with what Goku was currently experiencing.

“Maybe I’m just not in the mood to spar anymore,” he said indignantly, turning from the field.

“That excuse is even worse than the last two!” Vegeta scoffed, stalking after him. “What is your problem, Kakkarot?!”

“I need to feed our sons!” Goku snapped, whirling on Vegeta and causing him to flinch. “My chest hurts! It’s been hours! How do Saiyans usually deal with that, HMM?!”

Vegeta stared at him, aghast.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” he asked, moving past the third class. “That, I understand.”

Goku groaned, following behind the prince.

“How can you say that? I swear, I will never get used to being a...a... food source.” Vegeta didn’t respond. “You can’t understand....”

“You think I can’t empathize?” Vegeta asked.

“No, I don’t,” Goku replied matter-of-factly. “You all act like I’m weird for feeling like this is strange. Like: ‘Gee, Kakkarot, even though you had no idea, this is normal for your body, so get over it!’.”

Vegeta stopped in his tracks and turned to look up at his companion.

“That is not what I said!” he snapped. “I’ve never said anything of the sort!”

“You gave me a hard time for feeling weird about this whole thing!” Goku informed him. “But I am almost one hundred percent sure that you wouldn’t have such an easy time giving up your manhood.”

“You’ve given up nothing,” Vegeta replied dismissively.

“I gave birth,” Goku exclaimed. “Twice.”

“And you died twice, too,” Vegeta retorted. “Now that is giving something up.”

Goku absently rubbed a sore spot on his chest, frowning down at the other man.

“Dying never required me to pee sitting down. Being ten months pregnant did.”

“So can a well placed knuckle punch to the groin,” the prince stated. “Don’t be a baby.”

“I had a baby! How many times do we have to go over this? Why can’t you admit that it is weird?!”

Vegeta gave a dismissive toss of his head.

“It’s one of the least weird things about you,” he said casually. “If anyone can handle something as common as a child --”

“Common!” Goku laughed, but was clearly exasperated. “How can you say that? Why are you so hell bent on pretending like you don’t find this weird --”

The prince’s countenance changed in a flash.

“Because if you feel weird about this then --” he roared, before snapping his mouth shut. Goku’s eyes widened in shock.

“Then what?” he demanded. Vegeta brow creased and he pressed his lips together before the pressure caused him to shout.

“Because if you feel weird, I feel bad! Yes, Kakkarot, it is all about me! If you have issues being our sons’ mother, then -- dear God! Tell me you are just perspiring that horribly!”

Goku blushed crimson, again fanning his shirt front as he moved past the prince.

“This is your fault for not letting me go home when I called ‘time out’,” he stated.

“No,” Vegeta insisted, stalking after him, “this is your fault for insisting on sparring at a time when you knew you needed to ... you know --”

“Nurse babies?” Goku asked, whirling on him. “Trouble saying that? ‘Cause I thought that was natural!” That said, Goku blasted off into the sky, Vegeta quickly pursuing.

The two could not take one step into the house without noticing the wails.

“Where have you been!?” Bulma asked. “They are both inconsolable!”

“I have to take a shower,” Goku said, breezing past her. “Let their father console them.”

Vegeta scowled, but he took the blonde twin from Bulma’s arms. The child was quiet for the fraction of a second it took him to recognize which parent he was being held by before he put his lungs back to work.

Chi Chi came into the room, carrying the whimpering, ki-spiking, dark-haired baby.

“What happened to Goku?’ she inquired, her eyes scanning Vegeta’s disheveled, recently-sparred appearance. “Is he okay?”

“He’s an enigma,” Vegeta grumbled sourly, gently petting the hair of the child in his arms.

Bulma and Chi Chi were quiet, both feeling it best to stay out of this situation at the present moment. It seemed like an eternity that they sat in awkward silence with Vegeta and his sons, but it was just a few minutes before Goku came back into the room.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, taking Ninji from his wife. Chi Chi gave him a comforting pat on the back, smiling.

“No problem. I’m going to make a pot of tea, if anyone would like some. Bulma, care to join me?”

Bulma nodded and followed the younger woman from the room, leaving the two Saiyans glaring at each other.

Goku turned from the room and headed into the nursery that Bulma had prepared for the twins. The speed and efficiency with which she converted rooms was awe-inspiring.

“Kakkarot,” Vegeta began, following the third class, “listen --”

“I can’t listen to anything when they are crying,” Goku informed him curtly, settling into a chair. “You’ll just have to wait.” Vegeta frowned, but complied, sitting across from him. Vejita continued to squirm and whine.

“Can’t the woman think of something to help you with this?” Vegeta asked. Goku sighed.

“She said by the time that she perfected an artificial supplement of the appropriate nutrient/vitamin make-up, it would be a moot point.”

“Oh.”

There was silence between them until after Goku exchanged Ninji for his brother. With both twins now silent, however, Vegeta spoke.

“Now, Kakkarot,” he began, cradling the sleeping infant in his arm, “what is your problem?”

Goku stared at the Saiyan prince across from him, watching him expectantly as he held their child. What was Vegeta’s problem?

“My problem is: I want to feel normal again. Just when I think I do, I don’t. And I just want someone, anyone, to validate my feelings... I guess...” he sighed. “You probably just don’t understand.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow as he stared back at the other Saiyan.

“That is where you are wrong, Kakkarot,” the prince told him, but focused his attention down on the beautiful child in his arms. “For I think that I can understand that better than anyone.” Goku frowned.

“Then why do you keep telling me that it’s okay? That I’m okay?... ‘Cause I’m not.”

Vegeta continued to look down at his son as he answered quietly.

“I tell you those things first, because they are true.” Goku rolled his eyes and groaned. “And secondly... It is because I... I find your discomfort...” His voice lowered slightly as he finished. “...Unsettling.”

Goku’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What?” he asked, observing the prince shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Why?”

Vegeta shook his head resignedly, but still appeared disgusted with himself for speaking.

“It reminds me of my failure to protect you and the children... when the revenge was upon no one but me... and, I suppose, I have come to learn that the event and the consequences can be unrelated...”

“What do you mean?” Goku asked quietly, hugging his baby to him. Vegeta looked up, giving him a wry smirk.

“Because of my enslavement to Frieza, I came to Earth in search of the Dragonballs, thus meeting Bulma. Even though, at times, I endure terribly unSaiyan humiliations at her hand... I do not thank Frieza for the opportunity! But I am pleased with the outcome, none the less... unSaiyan humiliations and all...”

Goku considered that as he watched his nursing child.

“So... if I love the boys... I shouldn’t mind... what goes along with it?”

“You can mind it,” Vegeta replied. “But you should accept it. Believe me... it’s better than looking back and... and regretting how you reacted.” Goku looked back up at his friend. The prince’s expression was neutral. “I have a lot of respect for what you have done here,” Vegeta admitted quietly. “You have once again proven you are a better man than I.”

“I don’t think I have been tested as extensively as you have to confirm what I am in relation to you, Vegeta,” he replied sincerely. “But I appreciate your words... I just want us to understand each other.”

Another moment of silence passed between them before Vegeta spoke again.

“Do you... since you are having difficulties... do you regret your choice now?”

“Of course not!” Goku insisted quickly. “I would do it all over again --” Both men blushed slightly, eyes turning away from the other's. “...You know what I mean...” Vegeta cleared his throat.

“Yes.”

“Vegeta,” Goku spoke with hesitation, “you don’t...you don’t think that my complaining means that I’m not happy with this outcome, do you?” Vegeta looked back at him, but didn’t reply. “Please don’t, if you do. I really wouldn’t change this -- and not in a creepy way, I mean.” His statement nearly caused a smile from the older Saiyan. “I suppose... I suppose it could be worse... I mean, I am nearly back in shape, and the babies won’t need me for too much longer --”

“And you will probably cry about that when it happens,” Vegeta interjected. Goku chuckled.

“I doubt it,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I feel like every physical pleasure has been put on hold while I’m these little ones’ food supply.”

Vegeta’s skin took on a bluish tinge and he stood, frowning.

“By the Gods, Kakkarot,” he grumbled, standing and walking from the room. “Don’t be vulgar.”

Goku’s brow furrowed in confusion before Vegeta’s meaning dawned on him. He didn’t laugh long over the prince’s discomfort, however, since his statement was unfortunately true as his friend had understood it.

It didn’t occur to Trunks until he was dressing for his evening out that he was preparing to take his best friend of nineteen years on a date. As he checked his reflection in the mirror, he adjusted the tie at his throat. Goten said to take him somewhere he normally took dates, and he hoped the younger boy liked what he had planned for the evening.

He stepped out of the bathroom just as a knock sounded on his door.

“Come in,” he called, expecting Goten.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Bulma smiled widely at her son, crossing to him. “Well, don’t you look especially handsome. You and Goten meeting some special ladies tonight?” she asked.

“Um... something like that,” he replied. He felt bad about lying, but he felt less bad about concealing the truth. Bulma gave him a knowing smirk.

“If you use the Briefs name to get into any over twenty-one clubs, make sure your father doesn’t find out -- or Goten’s mother.”

“Mom,” Trunks responded, amazed with her cavalier attitude.

“I’m just being realistic,” she told him. “I know you’re a good boy.”

Trunks ran a hand over his hair. The lavender strands fell naturally back over his brow.

“Did you need something?” he asked. Bulma smiled.

“I need to see my baby before he goes out carousing for women,” she said, laughing at his look of disbelief. “Actually, I came to ask you if IAN was ready to be shipped to testing. Marketing is drooling all over themselves waiting for an opportunity to put it before a market research panel.”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Trunks told her, pouring a small amount of cologne into his palm. “I have to put in a security safeguard to limit access to the Saiyan portion of the database now that Daikkon has uploaded his information. I also want to run through a few more tests before releasing it for a test panel.” Bulma watched him as he patted the cologne on his throat before drawing his hand through his hair again. She smiled.

“You’ve done great work, Trunks,” she assured him. “I’m ready to give this project the green light when you are.”

Trunks returned the smile, proud of her confidence in him.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said.

Bulma’s smiled slowly faded as she looked upon her son.

“You’ve been working really hard, sweetie. I’d like to see you have more chances to go out like this,” she told him seriously. “You’re so young... maybe you should take it easier at the lab.”

“Mom --”

“It’s just that you’ve taken so many classes... Do you know how much excitement I had when I was your age?! And I still had plenty of time to get my degrees.”

“Mom,” Trunks said, taking her hands, “I’m fine.”

“You ready to go, man?” Goten interrupted, sauntering into the room. “Hey, Aunt B.”

“Look at you,” she grinned as the teen held out his arms to be admired. “I don’t know if I can let you out of the house looking that cute.”

“Aw,” Goten replied. “It’s no different than any other day.”

Trunks rolled his eyes.

“We better get going,” he said. “Mom, I’ll let you know my timetable for IAN tomorrow.”

“No pressure, sweetie,” she replied, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You two have a great time. Don’t break too many hearts.”

“I can’t guarantee,” Goten told her with a grin. Bulma gave a shake of her head as she left the two alone in Trunks’ room. Goten turned and gave his friend a thorough once-over.

“Damn... You’re wearing a tie. Should I wear one?” He ran a hand down the buttoned front of his navy dress shirt. “I don’t know if I own one.... well, maybe one.”

“You look fine,” Trunks assured him. “You ready?”

“Yep.”

The teens left the house and got into Trunks’ capsule car.

“I would have gotten you flowers,” Trunks told him with a smirk, “but it would have looked a little suspicious if they came home with me, too.”

“Suspicious, or pathetic?” Goten chuckled. “So... where are we going?”

“First: The Crystal Gardens restaurant,” the older teen replied, his eyes intent on the skyway.

Goten grimaced, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

“Wow. I should have worn a tie... That place costs some serious bank,” he stated.

“Well,” Trunks shrugged, “I just so happen to have ‘serious bank’ on me”

Goten shook his head.

“I said let’s go to a place you normally take people,” he pointed out. “How many first dates have you had there?”

“... No first dates,” he admitted with a slight blush. “Just a couple important ones.”

“Aw...” Goten gushed, poking his friend in the ribs. “Ain’t you sweet!” He shook his finger admonishingly. “But don’t think this means I’m puttin’ out. I don’t care how much the meal costs”

Trunks shook his head, but smiled.

“I can guarantee you I’ve never expected anything in return for a meal.”

“You’ve never dated a Saiyan,” Goten remarked. “I eat a lot. And I can guarantee you that I won’t be one of those annoying dates that only has water and a piece of lettuce.”

“Good,” Trunks returned, a smile coming to his lips at Goten’s admission that this was a ‘date’... that they were ‘dating’...

Trunks pulled his car to a stop in front of the impressive building that was the Crystal Gardens restaurant. The tall, elegant silver and glass structure glimmered from the reflections caused by the cascading fountains that flanked the path to the doors. Goten stared up at the building as he exited the vehicle.

“Hot damn,” he commented, looking up at the impressive facade. “I just might feel guilty about not giving it up...”

Trunks capsulized his car and placed it in the security case, joining his friend on the marble staircase in front of the restaurant.

“Don’t be an ass,” he whispered in good humor. “Come on. Don’t make me take your hand.”

“What?” Goten laughed, following the older boy inside. “You’re not going to let me hang on your arm? Can I at least play footsie with you under the table?”

Trunks smiled.

“Maybe,” he said, before stopping at the hostess’ podium.

“Good evening, Mr. Briefs,” the woman greeted him with a warm smile. “We’re honored to have you with us this evening.”

“Thank you,” Trunks responded, ignoring Goten’s snarky smirk. “I have a reservation for two on the western terrace.”

“Of course, Mr. Briefs,” the hostess said, motioning a young waiter toward them. “Please escort these gentlemen to the west terrace, Yoji.”

“Of course,” the waiter replied, addressing the teens with a short bow. “Good evening, Mr. Briefs. Right this way.”

The Saiyans were escorted up a long, spiraling staircase and out onto a large balcony on the west side of the building. In the center was a lone table, draped in a white linens and two chairs. Once they were seated, the waiter handed them the menu’s and waited for them to order their meal.

“Yoji,” Trunks spoke to the young man, smiling, “my friend and I have a lot to discuss tonight, so we will need very little attention this evening.”

“Understood, sir,” he replied. “I will be right back with your drinks.”

Goten turned to his friend once they were alone.

“No influence, my ass,” he smirked. “Should I call you ‘Mr. Briefs’?” Trunks raised an eyebrow.

“That’s pretty kinky.”

Goten laughed heartily at the response.

“So... this is where you bring your special dates, huh?” he asked, looking back up at the building. “A secluded balcony?”

Trunks shook his head.

“No, actually. Never this table.” He gave a small smile and shrugged. “This table is usually on constant reserve for my parents, so I don’t bother.” He pointed out at the skyline.

Goten turned to look out at the setting sun on the western horizon. The light and clouds created a beautiful backdrop of reds and purples across the sky, framing the large orange sun as it slowly sank.

“Awww,” Goten breathed. “I am dating a girl...”

“Jerk,” Trunks remarked, giving his friend a kick under the table.

“And footsie!” the younger Saiyan exclaimed. “Hot damn, what a date!” Both chuckled, amused by the comment and the fact that they were on a date.

Goten grinned at his friend. As glib as he was about it, the romantic gesture Trunks had made was not wasted on him. He truly appreciated that Trunks made such an effort to include romantic love to the deep loving friendship that they already shared. It actually didn’t make Goten feel weird or embarrassed, but valued... and happy.


Bulma was frowning when she entered the dining room, taking her seat beside Vegeta.

“Well, this is just ridiculous!” she stated hotly.

Goku gave her a concerned look.

“What’s the matter, Bulma?”

His friend turned her angry eyes toward her husband before she spoke.

“Daikkon is declining to eat with us... again.” Goku frowned.

“That’s too bad.”

Vegeta gave a snort of contempt.

“Forget it. Let’s eat.”

“Vegeta, how can you be so uncharitable?” Bulma asked in disbelief. “How can you be so cruel?”

Chi Chi thought to herself that Bulma just asked a stupid question for a genius, but she didn’t speak as much.

“How can you be so quick to invite that Saiyan to your table, Bulma?” she asked. “With your family? How can you be so confident that he can be trusted?”

Bulma’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Because! Call it woman’s intuition, but I don’t think he’s bad.”

Chi Chi clasped her hands in her lap, and replied calmly.

“My woman’s intuition tells me to be more cautious in light of certain events.” Bulma continued to frown.

“I think he’s a nice guy who was just in the wrong places at the wrong times.”

“I agree,” Goku added. “You two are quick to forget all he did to help us, just because he made some mistakes.”

“No,” Vegeta snapped. “We’re just weighing the size of the errors against that of the so-called ‘help’.”

“Are you saying that Mr. Daikkon is bad?”

All four adults looked at the princess in surprise. Everyone had clearly forgotten she was there.

“No, sweetie!” Bulma insisted. “Your papa is just... hard to please...”

Bulla looked to her father, a questioning expression on her face.

“Mr. Daikkon was nice to me and Goten,” she told him. “He couldn’t have been one of the bad guys, could he?”

“No,” Goku answered for him, earning a reprimanding shush from his wife.

Vegeta remained calm, and replied coolly to his child.

“Evil and idiocy are two different things.”

Bulla smiled.

“Oh. So you feel about Mr. Daikkon how you used to feel about Uncle Goku,” she giggled as her father frowned. “I’d just like to point out that Uncle Goku is at the table.”

“We’ll have no more talk of this,” Vegeta announced.

“Well, I think Daikkon should eat with us,” Goku stated. Bulma nodded in agreement.

“Yes. He is part of this household.”

“I don’t think we should force him,” Chi Chi reasoned. “If he doesn’t want to eat with us, we should leave him be.”

“Exactly,” Vegeta agreed. Bulma leveled her eyes on her husband before speaking in a casual manner.

“This household has always welcomed everyone to its table. Regardless of how well they were liked.”

Vegeta felt his jaw clench in irritation. Damn woman.

The prince stood from his chair, dropping his napkin next to his plate and striding out of the room.

Goku looked forlornly from the warm, delicious meal on the table to the two women.

“So we wait for him?” he asked. Chi Chi and Bulma looked to one another. Bulma shrugged.

“Yes,” Chi Chi told her husband decidedly. “We should give him time to return.”

“If he’s gonna return,” Bulla smirked, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair.

Vegeta stormed out of the house, taking the front walk to the adjoining commercial building. It was empty within, save the lone ki signature in Bulma’s lab.

Vegeta pushed open the door with such force that it slammed against the wall. The loud thud it created caused the younger Saiyan within to turn with a start.

“Your highness --” he began before Vegeta’s words shut him up.

“My wife wants you to come to dinner,” he growled. “You will do as she wants.”

“Yes, sire,” Daikkon agreed without protest.

Vegeta stared at the younger man, anger and bitterness still hardening his heart, even though the other Saiyan had a non-threatening appearance.

“I don’t trust you,” the prince spoke suddenly, stopping Daikkon in his tracks.

“The blame for that rests solely on my shoulders, sire,” he replied humbly. “You do what you must to protect your family.”

Vegeta scowled.

“I don’t buy your devoted servitude act either,” he snapped. “I tolerate your presence on this planet because, and only because, it pleases the woman. You give me just one more shred of evidence to support my mistrust, and I will obliterate you from existence. Do you understand?”

Daikkon nodded.

“Yes, sire. My life is yours to command.”

“Enough!” he retorted, turning on his heel and stalking back toward the house. He was surprised to see everyone still patiently waiting for his return. He grimaced, slightly embarrassed, and returned to his seat.

Bulma smiled widely seeing Daikkon following behind her husband.

“Here, Daikkon,” she said to him. “We have a place for you right here.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Bulma turned, sharing her pleased smile with Goku. Next to them, their spouses were also exchanging an expression that showed their like-minded thinking -- neither of them was pleased to have the Saiyan at their table. And neither was ready to relent in their feelings.


After dinner, Bulma retreated to the den, taking Daikkon with her.

“You are making me claustrophobic, shutting yourself up in the lab or in your room. Do you ever get out and spend the money I pay you?” Daikkon gave an amused smile, but declined to answer. Bulma settled into a chair behind her desk. “You do want to stay on Earth, don’t you?” she asked.

“Of course, majesty,” he replied. “There is no greater goal than to serve the Saiyan royal house.”

“And we appreciate it,” she told him, “believe it or not. But I still want you to have a life. Explore the city -- hell, the planet. Meet a girl, settle down. Live, Daikkon.”

He nodded.

“It is not as if I do not have plans,” he told her. “I just... I just feel I must take things in stride.”

He turned from her, giving his attention to the built-in bookshelves and their numerous volumes. There was a vast number anda variety of genres.

“You like to read?” Daikkon looked down to where the princess stood. The young girl continued. “For fun?”

“I enjoy reading, yes,” he told her.

“What about fighting?” she asked again. “You like that?”

He smiled at the child.

“What Saiyan doesn’t? I enjoy contests of strength and hunting, same as any Saiyan. How do you like it?”

“Oh, I love it!” she stated. “I like to hit people when they don’t expect it. I like to figure out which attacks will defeat my opponent as quickly as possible.”

“Just like her father,” Bulma chuckled.

“I have a question for you, Mr. Daikkon,” Bulla spoke, abruptly changing the subject. Daikkon looked to Bulma for approval, knowing full well Vegeta probably didn’t want him speaking to the princess at all. Bulma merely smiled.

“Yes, princess?” Daikkon prompted.

“Those Saiyans,” she began, crossing her arms and settling her weight on one hip. “Were they all bad? Were you the only good one?”

Daikkon was taken aback by the question, his eyes darting back to Bulma. Her expression was less genial, but she seemed rather interested in the answer as well.

“I cannot say... for sure,” he replied hesitantly. “The general in command of this ship greatly deceived me... yet, I have no knowledge of what he may have told the others. There were a few whom I must say that I am surprised they continued to follow under his rule.”

“Hm,” Bulla remarked. “Do you think there are other Saiyans who weren’t on that ship?”

He took a breath before replying.

“I cannot say for certain that there are not.”

The preteen grimaced.

“You’re not sure of much,” she told him.

“Bulla!” Bulma admonished. “That wasn’t nice.” Daikkon chuckled, good-naturedly.

“No, my lady. She is correct. While I may have amassed quite a bit of knowledge from books, I know little of the universe first hand. Especially how many Saiyans might have escaped Freiza’s destruction.”

“Which is why you need to get out,” Bulma stated.

“You can take me to the mall,” Bulla offered with a grin.

“I am sorry, princess,” the Saiyan replied. “But I am one hundred percent certain that the king will not allow that.”

“You are one hundred percent right,” Vegeta stated, drawing the trio's attention as he entered the room. Daikkon gave a small bow to the prince.

“Well, maybe he can spar with us, Papa?” Bulla suggested. “He’s always inside and he never gets to fight.”

“I don’t know if that is a good idea,” Bulma said, watching Vegeta stare holes into the younger man.

“I think it sounds like a good idea,” Vegeta told her. ‘He needs a real reason to fear me,’ he added to himself. ‘Not this ridiculous genuflecting he's always playing at.’

“I would be honored to train with you and your children, sire,” the younger Saiyan told him.

“Then I would get some sleep if I were you,” Vegeta warned.

“Of course, sire.” He bowed again, before turning back to Bulma. “Good night, your majesty.”

“Good night, Daikkon,” she replied, her eyes following him as he left the room. “Same for you, too, Bulla,” she spoke to her daughter.

“How come Trunks gets to stay out late and I have to go to bed?” she asked with a frown, but knowing full well that it was pointless to argue.

“Trunks is an adult,” Vegeta told her, “but I guarantee that tomorrow he will regret his decision to waste the night when you dominate him on the sparring field.” Bulla grinned.

“Right. Good night, Papa. Good night, Mom.” Quickly, the young girl dashed from the room, embracing her father briefly on the way past. Bulma gave Vegeta a slightly amused smirk.

“I’m not so sure it's healthy to pit them against each other,” she mused, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s healthy competition,” Vegeta replied, with a shrug. “Besides, it is important for them to learn the ways of effective combat. Someday, when Kakkarot and I are no longer around, they may need it.”

Bulma moved to stand in front of her husband, slipping her arms around his neck.

“That won’t be for a long, long time... not that I don’t agree. Just don’t be too hard on them or Daikkon. I don’t want you beating him up just for the fun of it.”

“You’d think I’d lower myself to that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Vegeta gave an indignant snort, but didn’t attempt to refute her claim. Bulma’s expression softened and she leaned up, gently brushing her lips against his.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and spend some quality time together?” she whispered.

“It would not be of adequate quality, as Kakkarot will soon put the infants down.”

Bulma was disappointed, but she tried not to let it show. Even now that everyone was in the same house, she seemed to still be seeing less of Vegeta. She smiled, bringing her hands up to his face.

“You are a good father,” she told him. “The babies are lucky to have you.”

“They are lucky they have the rest of their family, because I am about at the end of my patience with infants,” he replied dryly.

“Of course,” Bulma laughed. “Because the alternative is, you are becoming soft in your middle age...”

“I’m not,” he stated resolutely.

“Vegeta,” Goku announced, interrupting the prince and his wife, “you want to take him now?”

Bulma and Vegeta turned to where the tall Saiyan stood in the doorway, holding his pajamaed blonde son wrapped in a blanket. The baby squealed in delight upon seeing his father. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Of course not,” Bulma assured him. “I was just going up to read a bit before bed.” She gave Vegeta a kiss on the cheek. “You boys have fun. Don’t stay up all night... Bulla will be more than happy to exploit any weaknesses tomorrow.”

“Good night, Bulma,” Goku told her as she stopped to kiss the baby. She gave him a pat on the arm before leaving.

“Good night, sweetie.”

Goku approached Vegeta and held out their son to him.

“Here ya go!” he stated.

Vegeta took the bundled baby, whose tail immediately snaked out of the blanket and clung to the nearest piece of his father.

“We have to put an end to this, Kakkarot,” Vegeta told him seriously, looking down at the child. Goku frowned, partly confused and partly concerned.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean this child,” the prince replied. “He is spoiled. I didn’t allow this behavior with my older children, and I cannot allow it now. He will learn to sleep on his own.” He kept his eyes averted from the taller Saiyan’s troubled expression as he continued. “It might be difficult at first, but he will have to learn that life is not about being pampered or catered to.”

There was a tense moment of quiet, the only sound coming from the cooing infant as he reached for his father’s face. Goku felt a pressure building in his chest.

“What would you have him learn that life is?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t twist my words,” the shorter man snapped. “He is a prince, Kakkarot, but I will not pamper this child to a disadvantage. He must learn to be independent.”

“He’s two weeks old!” Goku exclaimed. Vegeta frowned.

“You know what I mean. If he is held constantly, he will expect to be held constantly.”

The heaviness in Goku’s heart didn’t wane as he looked at his son and Vegeta.

“Wh-what did you have in mind?”

“I’m going to send him to live in the woods.” Goku’s eyes widened but before he could speak, Vegeta continued. “Don’t be an idiot, Kakkarot! Even I wouldn’t send an infant into the wild. Especially my own. So quit acting like that is what my decision would be like.” Goku sighed and flushed with embarrassment.

“I didn’t think you really would,” he said lamely. “But what do you really have in mind?”

“I want my son to grow into a confident child. A child who knows that our protection of him is not limited to being in my arms.” He looked down at the fair-haired child, whose dark eyes stared evenly back at him. “He should be content at all times in this house. Tomorrow he will be put down with his brother... and he will remain there.”

Goku’s brow creased.

“What if he cries?” he asked. “You not just gonna let him... cry, are you?”

Vegeta was scowling now. The infant prince in his arms gave a small, sad mew. Vegeta’s expression faded into one of resigned acceptance.

“Ten years ago, I might have let him cry,” he admitted, a near smile turning his lips as he was now receiving warm, happy coos from his son. It suddenly dawned on him that he was still in Kakkarot’s presence, so he turned, his expression fading back into neutrality. “I will not distress him, I assure you.”

Goku nodded.

“Vegeta.” he said quietly, noticing how the prince’s tail tightened at his waist. “I know you love them... I trust you.”

“You're damn right you should trust me,” he replied. “Now go to bed, Kakkarot.”

“Fine. Good night... both of you.”

Vegeta watched the third class travel to the other side of the house before turning back down to the happily gurgling baby.

“Brat,” he said, but gently and without conviction. The prince’s tail slowly uncoiled from his waist and smoothed softly over the baby’s brow. “Now sleep, child.”

Why was it the harder he tried to be a better man, the more guilty he felt because of it? He wanted to love his children to a fault, but how could he when he had treated his oldest children with indifference?

Frustration made him want to growl, but he didn’t want to startle or scare the infant now dozing in his arms, so he settled back on the sofa, cradling his youngest son in his arms and willing himself to clear his mind. The infant did need to learn to sleep through the night on his own, but the sooner that he did learn, the sooner they could all stop playing this silly game of ‘one big happy family’ and get on with their lives.

A/N: Sorry this update took so long. I sure hope you enjoyed it though. Thanks for all of the feedback! Hopefully, I will have the next chapter up a little quicker. I'm trying!! *hugs* -- B.