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A Losing Battle	By : BlazeEBlake_TD Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 2121 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z nor do I own any of the characters. I make no money whatsoever by writing this story.

Chapter List
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Vegeta leaned against the wall beside the sole window in his son’s room, watching dubiously as Bulma fussed with the child’s hair and clothing. That morning, after completing his meal, he had come to collect the boy for his daily instruction, only to find him already in the woman's clutches. When he attempted to take possession of the half-Saiyan she had refused to relinquish him, citing some ludicrous plan involving Kakarot’s months-old brat.
“I can not see the purpose of this,” he stated, not for the first time that day, “I thought we had dispensed with any dates for the foreseeable future. And what use the boy could possibly have for one is beyond me.”
“It’s a play-date, not a date-date,” the woman explained, pulling yet another shirt over the boy’s head, “It’s for children, so they can make friends.”
“It sounds like nonsense. He should be training.”
“I figured you’d say that. But he’s still just a little boy and he needs friends. I think Goten and Trunks will be a great fit for each other.”
“Goten. What a stupid name. And I will not have my son going over to that infernal hovel Kakarot once called home for this senseless baby matchmaking.”
“Ok.”
“What?”
“I said, O.K. Trunks won’t go over to Goku’s house for the playdate.”
“I am no fool woman. What is your game?”
“Game? No game. We won’t go over there, end of story.” Vegeta eyed her skeptically, brow furrowed. With a satisfied nod, she picked up Trunks and headed out of the room, winking at him before stepping out into the hallway. Vegeta gave an irritated sigh and followed her to the stairs.
“He is fully capable of walking,” he grumbled after her, “I’ve seen to that.”
“You know,” she replied, making her way down the steps, “For a guy who’s finally been able to get a decent night’s sleep in our wonderful new room, thanks to my brilliant mind, you sure are cranky today.”
“The ideas spewing from that brain of yours are the source of every headache I have had since choosing to remain on this planet. Now don’t change the subject, reveal your schemings at once!” By now they had reached the living room and any chance of further conversation was cut off by a series of knocks. Bulma turned from him and opened the front door, revealing a smiling Gohan and ChiChi, the tiny, spiky haired Goten gently cradled in her arms.
“Hey guys!” Bulma beamed, “Mom has lunch all ready on the back patio! Follow me!” Vegeta glared at the group as they filed through the sitting room and toward the house’s back exit, taking no notice of him whatsoever. Once again alone, he considered returning to the gravity chamber for a few hours more, if only to see to it that his entire day wasn’t wasted on her shenanigans. But the notion of allowing her defiance to go unchecked, along with the disruption of his son’s own training troubled him far too much for him to retreat so hastily. Shaking his head, he stalked over to the back door and out on to the terrace. The two women were seated at a small metal table, chatting animatedly over plates of sandwiches while the children had gathered some distance away, the elder of the three watching as the youngest two stared one another down from either end of a large blanket. Vegeta observed silently as his son made the first move, confidently marching over and kneeling before the infant, who lay on his belly, eyeing his would-be playmate curiously. For a moment, the boys were nearly nose to nose, silently appraising each other. Suddenly, Kakarot’s child reached up, stuck a tiny finger up Trunks’ left nostril and began to giggle. At first perplexed, a wide smile began to spread across the toddler’s face, and he joined in the laughter whole heartedly. Vegeta began to look away in disgust when the baby brought up his other hand and weakly smacked Trunks in the face. Eyebrow raised, the prince refocused his gaze on the exchange expectantly.
“Hey Goten,” Gohan cautioned, “play nice.” Paying his brother no mind, Goten raised his hand to strike out again, only to have Trunks take hold of both of his tiny wrist and twist the boy onto his back.”
“Twain!” He cried delightedly, raising his arms into the air in triumph. Goten blinked up at the sky for a few beats before bursting into tears.
“Trunks!” Bulma shouted, practically jumping out of her chair. Trunks turned to look at her, eyes widened innocently, leaving himself open for a frenzied attack from the child at his feet, now in the throes of a tantrum. When one of the infant’s wild swings caught Trunks in the leg, he wobbled off balance and began to fall backward. Gohan started toward the tumbling boy but stopped short when the child caught himself mid air, hovering inches above the ground. Goten ceased crying abruptly as he marveled at the floating child along with the rest of the group. For his part, Trunks wriggled about for a few seconds before lowering back to the blanket, landing on his backside with a soft thud.
“Yay!” He crowed, breaking the silence and eliciting a new round of giggles from baby beside him.
“Humph,” Vegeta said, finally stepping out from the doorway, “it appears that this meeting has served a purpose after all. The next generation has squared off and as expected, Kakarot’s latest offspring has proven to be inferior to my own progeny.”
“Are you crazy?” Bulma shot back, “You’re son just tried to fight a baby!”
“Aw don't worry Bulma,” Gohan reassured, “I think they were just playing. Goten’s fine.”
“Of course he's fine,” Vegeta continued, “Saiyans were built for battle. A minor skirmish should be no cause for concern, even for these halflings.” The woman shook her head irritably and turned to ChiChi anxiously.
“I'm so sorry,” she said, “Vegeta's been training him and I guess he got carried away. I won't let it happen again, I promise.”
“You know what? It's fine,” ChiChi said thoughtfully, “If he's as much like his father as he looks, then he's got the hard head to match. Really, Trunks is probably the only kid he can play with without holding back. And anyway, my boys have to be tough with the world we live in, even if they are going to grow up to be genius businessmen.”
“Your absurd future aspirations aside, we agree on one thing,” Vegeta added, “These are no normal children. It is almost a certainty that you are looking at what will be two of the strongest fighters this planet has to offer, besides Gohan and myself, obviously.” The blue-haired woman turned away from her friend and sat back down slowly, a concerned frown on her face. Doing his best to ignore this latest peculiarity, Vegeta continued to watch his son and Kakarot’s infant, a tight-lipped smile crossing his face as he felt a new swelling of pride for the purple haired boy before him.

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Bulma leaned against the railing of her balcony, wistfully gazing up at the stars. The rest of the playdate had gone off without a hitch. Following their minor scuffle boys had fallen into more peaceful interactions and Vegeta, satisfied with Trunks’s show of force, had quickly departed to return to his training. When the children had begun to show signs of fatigue, Gohan and ChiChi collected a drowsy Goten, thanked her profusely for lunch, and headed home in the Ox King’s car. The entire time, Bulma had kept a placid smile on her face and done all she could to act as though nothing about the earlier events had fazed her in the slightest. But what Vegeta said had in fact troubled her. Though she had known for some time that the boy from the future and her son were one in the same, there had always been enough of a disconnect to keep her from imagining the child she had given birth to as a warrior. Right now, he was just her sweet little boy, and picturing him as that hardened young man who could be killed by some alien or monster on any given day terrified her. True, she and Goku had been young during their early travels, but it was different now that she had to watch from the sidelines. The last thing she wanted was for her son to face anyone or anything like villains her friends had tackled in their adolescence.
“What is the point of a shared bedroom if you plan on spending an entire night outside?” She heard Vegeta gruffly muse behind her. She didn't answer, instead choosing to sigh and continue examining the faintly glowing night sky. Now that he had made his presence known, Bulma could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickling under his gaze.
“I've never thought of him that way,” She said finally, “our Trunks I mean. He's gonna get big and start fighting like you guys. He might even get hurt… Or worse.”
“Should he encounter a worthy opponent then injury is practically unavoidable,” Vegeta replied, coming to stand beside her, “Such is the life of a warrior. Death is also-”
“You really know what to say to cheer a girl up.”
“You can not possibly have been so foolish as to not realize all of this by now. You yourself became acquainted with a future version of the boy.”
“I know. But since our Trunks was only a baby at the time, I guess I just always thought of them as two different people. I didn't think about it long or hard enough to let it sink in that one day the little guy would turn into the big one. But now he's walking, talking, and even flying, not to mention trying to fight. Before I know it he's going to be just like the teenager from the future.”
“Our son will likely be nothing like that boy at all.”
Bulma looked up at him, eyes full of confusion.
“That boy from the future,” Vegeta explained, “he grew up in a time of desolation and with hardly any chance of survival. He did not have his father and all that he would have learned from him. That boy was molded by his circumstances, just as ours will be. I imagine he will be even stronger under my tutelage.” Bulma sighed again and rested her chin in her hand, looking away and pouting in disappointment.
“That said,” he continued, “there is no telling when this infernal peace will end, if ever. And it will be all I can do to keep him from softening among your planet’s multitude of useless diversions, or the time wasting children's social engagements you've no doubt planned against my wishes. I dare say I would be surprised to find our son identical to that young man in any way beyond looks once he is grown.” Bulma smiled slowly as she realized the truth in his statement. The androids had been defeated and things would indeed be vastly changed from what they were once destined to be, and that included her son and the man he would one day grow into. Though she would be lying to herself if she thought she could stop even a half-Saiyan from fighting, perhaps the chances of such instances would be slimmer now that the Z fighters and Vegeta had emerged victorious. It could even be that his confrontations would remain limited to mostly playful dustups with Goten, and it gave her no small amount of comfort to know that, when her son finally did find himself matched against an opponent, he will have been trained by the best.
Turning back towards him, Bulma snaked her arms around Vegeta’s bicep and rested her head against his shoulder.
“Thanks,” she said softly. He snorted incredulously.
“Your concerns are ponderously trivial,” he replied, “I half expect you begin sobbing at the slightest threat of rain or the discovery of a missing garment.”
“Oh, I'm the sensitive one am I?” Before he knew what she was doing, Bulma released one of her arms from his and lowered her hand beneath the top of his shorts, lightly grazing the tender spot where his tail had once grown. She bit back a wicked laugh as she heard his breath first catch and then release raggedly.
“You find that humorous?” He asked through gritted teeth. Her stifled giggling morphed into a muffled shriek as he swiftly tackled her to the ground, rendering her helplessly trapped beneath him but otherwise unharmed.
“Just what do you think you're doing?” She asked breathily, “We’re outside! Someone could hear us!”
“Why the sudden concern?” He responded menacingly, “After all, by your estimation I am the sensitive one, correct? Nothing I can do should elicit that much of a reaction at all.” As he lowered his mouth to her neck, Bulma felt his hand slowly ease off of one of her pinned wrists and creep down toward the waistband of her pants. She braced herself for a what she knew would come next, uncertain of how long she could keep quiet but determined not to give in without a fight.

Sorry I ran a bit late guys! I’ll do my best to post again at the usual time next week, perhaps with a bit of a time-skip. Thanks as always for reading!
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A Losing Battle