You're What?!-Chapter 3: There's a Bun in the Oven

Bulma finished brushing her hair and looked herself over in the mirror. Noticing that she still looked a little pale, the blue-haired scientist sat down at her vanity and started applying a light coat of make-up to hide the parlor of her skin. This was day four of the pesky flu that she just couldn't seem to shake. She always felt the worst about mid-morning, and then the nausea would lessen considerably to the point where she almost felt as good as new by the end of the day. However, she'd wake up the next morning and the cycle began anew.

After finishing up with her make-up, Bulma looked herself over again and nodded, pleased with her appearance. She looked perfectly healthy. She needed to act healthy this morning, or at least on her way to a full recovery. Vegeta was not happy that she was still sick and was beginning to suggest that she visit her doctor. Bulma hated going to the doctor unless it was absolutely necessary, and this was one case where she did not think it was necessary, yet. Here was what would happen: she'd go and sit in the waiting room for about an hour just to be led back to an examining room to wait for another half and hour to an hour, and then finally she would see the doctor for a total of five minutes just to be told she had the flu. It was ridiculous.

Despite herself, Bulma smiled. Vegeta was just trying to take care of her. He didn't really know how to act around a person when they were sick, and Bulma, for the most part, was a fairly healthy person, so he didn't have to take on the role of care-provider very often. His concern was endearing though. Vegeta and her held the same opinion of doctors and bed rest, especially bed rest. If Vegeta wasn't one breath away from dying then there was no way you were going to get him anywhere near a medical facility. Therefore, he must be pretty concerned about Bulma's health if he was even suggesting a trip to the doctor.

Well, today was the day that she was going to start to make herself feel better. Sometimes in order to feel better you had to force yourself to do things that you truly did not feel up to doing. With that in mind, Bulma left the master bedroom and headed on downstairs. Her legs were a little wobbly from lack of sustenance. True, she had eaten during the last couple of days, but not anything too filling. Even when she was feeling better during the day, Bulma was leery to try and eat a full course meal, just in case her stomach decided to act up again. That had to stop though. She needed to force herself to eat. She would never regain her strength if she didn't eat, and so today Bulma would rejoin her family for breakfast. Bulma slowly walked into the kitchen and smiled at the scene that she saw.

Trunks stood on stepstool, with an apron tied around his waist. He was concentrating very hard at measuring out the right amount of milk for whatever was being made, making sure not to spill a drop. Her mother was bustling around the kitchen gathering ingredients. The radio was on in the background, playing some of her mother's favorite tunes softly.

"Now Trunks, dear. When you are finished putting in the milk, we need to put the eggs in but remember, only the egg whites. You remember how to do that, right sweetie?" Mrs. Briefs asked as she finished putting the last of the baking products on the countertop of the island. Trunks poured the two cups of milk he had measured into the huge bowl in front of him and started pouring out some more.

"Yes Grandma, I remember," Trunks replied without looking up from his task. "But why can't we just use the whole egg? I don't get it. It seems like such a waste to me." Trunks almost whined. He did not like having to separate the yolks from the whites, it took up too much time in his opinion.

"Because it is healthier," Bulma jumped into the conversation, making her presence known. "Besides, we don't need all that extra cholesterol anyway." Trunks head spun around at the sound of his mother's voice a grin plastered on his face.

"Mom! You're coming down for breakfast? That's great! Are you feeling better?" Her young son asked hurriedly, his excitement causing him to talk faster. Bulma walked over to her baby boy and gave him a hug and a kiss on his forehead, marveling at having him standing eye to eye with her and thinking about what she was going to do when he did finally reach her height and eventually surpassed it. No one ever told her how difficult it was watching your child grow up. It was depressing to know that soon he wouldn't need her at all, if he truly needed her now. Bulma kissed her son again, making him squirm in embarrassment, and pushed such sad thoughts from her head. She would just enjoy the time she had with Trunks now. She flashed a brilliant smile to the boy in front of her.

"I'm feeling better sweetie. Not a hundred percent better, but definitely well enough to have breakfast with my family. What are you two making?" Bulma asked, looking at the contents of the bowl. It gave her no clue as to what was being made.

"Grandma and me are making…" Trunks began before being cut off by his mother.

"Grandma and I," she corrected gently. Trunks let out a small sort of annoyance. Bulma shook her head and hid a smile. That boy acted more and more like his father everyday.

"Grandma and I," Trunks stressed the correction, "are making cinnamon buns."

"Really?" Bulma asked rhetorically, feeling like a kid again. She loved her mother's cinnamon buns; they had always been a favorite of hers. "I love cinnamon buns. I could definitely eat a few of those, sick or not!" She said with a light laugh.

"I know dear. Trunks and Vegeta love them too. Although Vegeta tries to deny it." Mrs. Briefs added with a laugh of her own.

"Please tell me you aren't cooking again boy." Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Vegeta walked into the room with a towel around his neck and looked over at Trunks. His eyes then fell on Bulma. She smiled and gave him a playful wave. He would deal with her later, at the moment his attention was more focused on his son and the atrocity her saw. "What are you wearing? What are you doing to him woman?" He addressed Bulma's mother. "He is a warrior, not a Suzie-homemaker."

"Oh Vegeta," Mrs. Briefs began in a slightly exasperated voice, "it's just an apron. It's so he doesn't get his clothes dirty. Besides, he was just being nice and volunteering his help to his grandmother. It is no big deal."

"No big deal?" Vegeta exclaimed as though the world was ending. "The damn thing is purple!"

"I think it is more of a lavender," Bulma chirped in with a giggle.

"Yeah, it does kind of match my hair, Dad,"

"Stay out of this boy. You aren't helping matters." Vegeta growled in agitation. His son was already being pulled over to their side. He didn't like being outnumbered. A woman by herself was quite a force to reckon with; however, when they got together in groups their power seemed to grow even more. Females were a manipulative bunch, of that he was sure.

"Dear, it is just an apron. He won't be wearing it out in public or anything." Mrs. Briefs tried to reason, only to have a cold glare sent her way. Years around Vegeta though let her know that the man wasn't truly as mad as he appeared. Arguing was just his way of holding a conversation.

"It is the principle of the thing. Royalty does not wear articles of clothing that are lavender." Vegeta expressed, noticing that his son had not taken off the apron yet. He looked a little confused as to what he should do. Vegeta smirked; time to go in for the killing blow. "That color is for girls. No true man would wear it."

"What?" Trunks screeched as he quickly pulled the apron off as though it had suddenly caught on fire. "I am not a girl! Yuck."

Bulma watched the proceedings with amusement. Only her family would spend the morning arguing over a stupid apron. Scratch that, only Vegeta would be arguing about a stupid apron. Trunks was looking at the apron that now lay on the kitchen floor almost as though it was infected with some vile disease. Poor boy. Vegeta had such a skewed view on what was acceptable for a man to wear or do. Anything that might be construed as "woman's work" was strictly off limits to himself and Trunks. They were tough, macho warriors, not dainty flowers. That sparked a memory: I am a warrior, not a variety of flower!

"Don't worry my very masculine young man," Bulma spoke to Trunks. "There was nothing wrong with wearing that apron, it was just for protection, not fashion. Besides, your father is not one to talk. He's worn pink before." Vegeta, who had gone over to the sink to grab a glass of water and was now drinking, spit out the water at his mate's words and turned around to glare at Bulma. Trunks eyes widened in shock as he looked at his father, his eyebrows then furrowing in concentration as he tried to imagine his Dad wearing pink. The first image that popped into his head was his father wearing a short pink dress that his mother wore every once in awhile. Trunks, despite his best effort to stop it, burst out laughing at the thought.

"You've worn pink?" The half Saiyan said in between giggles. "Wow! Dad, that is the most girly color of all!"

"Shut up boy, it wasn't my fault." He said, his eyes still shooting daggers at his wife. "Some air-headed bimbo stole my clothes and then only offered me some hideous pink shirt to wear." He saw Bulma grinning despite the insult he had just hurled at her. When would he learn just to keep his mouth shut? If he hadn't brought up the stupid apron then his embarrassment at having worn a pink shirt would have never been exposed to his son. Better to walk away now before things got any more ugly. "I'm going to go and take a shower. I'll be back down when it is time to eat." And with that, Vegeta turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, reminding Bulma of a small boy going off to sulk.

"So, who made dad wear pink?" Trunks asked innocently once his father was gone. Bulma smiled and started to tell her son the story of how Vegeta had returned to Earth after looking for Goku all those years ago.

Vegeta came back down about forty-five minutes later to find a banquet of food laid out on the table. He smirked, now this was more like it. Everything smelled so good, he couldn't wait to sit down and eat. He was quite hungry, not that he wasn't always hungry when he came down for breakfast. Mrs. Briefs was still finishing up a few things around the kitchen, grabbing more food, picking things up, and getting beverages. Trunks sat at the table, looking like he was about to pounce on the food before him. Bulma was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Bulma?" Vegeta asked as he fully walked into the room and took a seat next to his son; eyeing what food he wanted to take first.

"I'm right here," he heard her shaky reply as she walked into the kitchen from the other entrance. Vegeta watched her warily for she looked a little sluggish. "I just had to go to the bathroom." She explained with a slight smile before sitting down across from her mate.

"Are you ok, Mom? You don't look as good as you did when you first came down this morning." Trunks said in concern. Vegeta continued looking over at Bulma and soon found himself agreeing with the boy. His mate, despite her best efforts, did not look good. This illness was lasting far too long for Vegeta's liking.

"I'm ok. I'm just still a little nervous about eating, that's all." She glanced at the two men in her life before turning her eyes downcast. Reaching out for the glass of water at her place setting, Bulma sipped at it. Mrs. Briefs finally came and sat down.

"Well, the last batch of cinnamon buns still has a few minutes left, so there is no reason why we can't start eating now. I'll just go and get them when the timer goes off." She then giggled to herself. "I guess you could say I truly have a bun in the oven, huh?" Bulma's head whipped over to stare at her mother, her sad attempt at a joke echoing in her head. Bulma stood up quickly, surprising everyone at the table as her chair knocked over. She quickly mumbled an excuse and practically ran from the room with her hand covering her mouth. Quickly rushing into the bathroom down the hall, Bulma locked the door behind her and then promptly threw up. Once her body was done heaving, Bulma stood up on shaky legs and rinsed out her mouth and then ran cold water over her face. Bulma glanced up at her reflection and noticed that her façade had fallen apart and she now looked awful.

Bulma slid to the floor, numb with shock. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of the possibility sooner, but it wasn't until she had heard her mom's joke that it finally clicked that maybe she didn't have the flu. Maybe she had morning sickness. Dende knew, she had experienced horrible morning sickness when she was pregnant with Trunks. Could she really be pregnant? No. She couldn't be. Could she? Bulma held her head in her hands. This was just too confusing.

"Woman," Vegeta's muffled voice came from behind the door, "are you ok?" She heard him try the door and growl in frustration to find it locked.

"I'm fine Vegeta," Bulma answered warily.

"Like hell you are." Vegeta said angrily. "Let me in Bulma."

Bulma looked up at the door from her place on the floor and sighed. She didn't feel like moving; however, she knew if she didn't open the door Vegeta would just push his way in and she didn't really feel like have a new door installed. The disheveled woman scooted on over to the door control and reached up from her place on the floor to unlock the door. It immediately slid back to show Vegeta standing there, his face stony. He looked down at his wife and noticed how haggard she looked. Kneeling down he brushed her hair away from her face and then cupped her face in his hand.

"Bulma, this has gone on long enough." Vegeta said simply. To his surprise, Bulma nodded with no sign of resistance. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, tears escaping the confines of her lashes and falling down her cheeks. Unbeknownst to Bulma, Vegeta looked at his mate, at a loss of what to do. His woman was not one that resorted to tears very often and it bothered him greatly to see her cry. Tilting her head towards his face, Vegeta gently brushed away her tears. "Woman, what is troubling you? Is this strictly about the sickness? Is there something you are not telling me?"

Bulma opened her eyes and gazed into the ebony eyes of her husband. Should she tell him of her suspicion that she may be pregnant? No. She didn't even know for sure and she didn't need Vegeta flipping out over something that may not even be true. That thought stopped her cold. What would she do if she were pregnant? Vegeta was not exactly pleased when he had found out about Trunks, and that April Fool's joke she had played on him two years ago had shown that he still was not very receptive of the idea of having another child. Bulma let out a choked sob. This could not be happening. Bulma noticed Vegeta's rare look of concern at the sound of her sob and the blue-haired scientist pushed the doubts out of her head. No need getting ahead of things and worrying herself sick. There was only one thing that could clear this all up.

"Vegeta," Bulma stated once she had regained her composure, "I'm going to the doctor."

And the chapters keep on coming! Let me know what you think. I love all the reviews I have gotten so far…they definitely keep me writing (hint, hint). Hopefully, the next chapter will be out soon.

Until Next Time…