Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and related characters are copyrighted by Bird Studios/Shueisha, Toei Animation. Licensed by FUNimation Productions, Inc. In other words, I do not own any of it, nor am I making any money off of this fanfic.

Time Period: Shortly after the Cell Saga, probably when Trunks is three or four years old.

Reluctant Husband

Vegeta, feeling satisfied from the nine-course meal he had for lunch, walked down the hall toward the gravity room to continue his daily training routine. Just as he was about to open the door, his sensitive ears picked up a muffled whimpering sound. He stepped back, trying to pinpoint the noise. It sounded like it originated from Bulma's lab.

What's going on there? Vegeta thought as he began to head toward the lab. It would be so easy to ignore this, but if it's something serious, then I'll regret my apathy later. He sighed. I'm becoming soft.

Vegeta reached the lab, whose door was open partway. Looking in, he could see Bulma fixing an air motorcycle but not doing too well with the job because she was crying too hard. She tried to fit a wrench over a nut, slipped, and dropped the wrench. This small failure was enough to prompt even more tears. She leaned against the motorcycle, apparently giving up on the repair job.

Vegeta stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. He had never seen Bulma this upset before over anything, and he was not even sure why she was upset. Well, maybe he could just go in and ad-lib the situation. What did his instincts say?

Weakling human female would not last four seconds on Planet Vegeta.

Okay, so he could not use his instincts on this one. What about . . . oh yes! Males were usually confronted with upset females in the numerous movies Bulma had forced him to watch with her. What did they usually do about it? If he recalled correctly, they usually held the female against them and told her all sorts of statements—most of which were lies—that comforted her. Vegeta thought about this. Holding Bulma was not much of a problem, but speaking like a sappy psychiatrist was a little more difficult. Vegeta considered just turning around and leaving the scene, but the part of him that cared for Bulma smacked him upside the head and forced him to enter the lab. He walked up behind Bulma and took his usual stance: arms folded across his chest and mouth set in a scowl.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded.

Bulma jumped in surprise and began to cry harder. Vegeta started becoming impatient.

"Well?" he said. "Are you going to answer me or what?"

Bulma, still sobbing, began rubbing clumsily at her face, trying to wipe away her tears without getting motor oil in her eyes. She seemed embarrassed to be caught like this. "I . . ." She was inadvertently smearing oil all over her face and quickly losing the battle to regain her composure. "I . . ."

Vegeta inwardly sighed in exasperation but also felt a pang of sympathy for her. My poor human mate . . . I suppose I should hold her now.

Vegeta wrapped his arms around Bulma and pulled her against him. She kept trying to wipe her eyes and still kept smearing motor oil all over her face, so Vegeta gently took her wrist and lowered her hand to her side. She sucked in some air and broke into more sobs. Vegeta sighed and let Bulma put her head over his shoulder and her arms around his torso. He tried not to think about all the motor oil she was getting on his clothes or how much louder she was now that she was right next to his ears. Instead, he tried to focus on letting her get all her grief out. Once she was lucid enough to talk, then maybe he could attempt to help her . . . and then finally get back to his training.

Much to Vegeta's relief, Bulma began to quiet down after a minute or so. She still made some whimpering sounds but nothing compared to the open-throated bawling she had been doing a few minutes ago.

"What's wrong?" Vegeta asked, trying to sound as concerned as possible.

Bulma whimpered and sniffled a bit before replying. "I can't do anything right," she moaned. "Everything's been falling apart. Everything mechanical is breaking down today, Dad and Mom are off on vacation, so I have to handle everything for them, Trunks keeps getting into trouble, there's no food left—"

Vegeta glanced away and cleared his throat, guilty on that charge.

"—the living quarters are a wreck, I haven't done the laundry in a week—"

Vegeta thought again about the motor oil that Bulma was getting on his clothes. Did motor oil even wash out?

"—and to top it off, it's my time of the month!"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow in confusion. He was clueless as to what that one meant.

"There's just too much going on!" Bulma cried, sobbing again. "I can't handle it all!"

Vegeta hugged Bulma as tightly as he could without hurting her. He knew what he had to do next, and it took everything he had to work himself up to the task.

"Just calm down," he said in vaguely soothing voice. "Everything's going to be all right." Ugh! he thought, shuddering in disgust. What am I saying?

Bulma pulled away from him and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. Some of her hair stuck to the oil on her face, which was flushed and puffy. Vegeta decided she looked a lot more attractive when she was happy.

"Really?" Bulma asked. "But how? There's so much I have to do . . . and there's not enough time . . ."

Vegeta knew he was going to hate himself in the morning for this. "I'll . . . help you," he said reluctantly.

Bulma stared at him for a second. A hopeful smile pulled the corners of her mouth up. "Really, Vegeta?" She sniffed back her remaining tears. "You would do that for me?"

Vegeta sighed, resigning himself to the doubtlessly numerous tasks to come. "Yes."

"Oh thank you!" Bulma cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him. "You're the greatest!"

I'd rather be the strongest fighter in the universe, he thought, but smiled anyway. Inside, he actually felt rather good for helping Bulma. Hmpf. At this rate, I'll be apologizing to Kakarot for kicking him into the next country and then I'll be rescuing old ladies from the paths of speeding trucks. I'm pathetic.

"This is wonderful!" Bulma said. "Let's see . . . first, you can mop the kitchen floor, then take out the garbage and vacuum the living room . . . the garden needs weeding too . . . oh, and the bathroom's a complete mess—"

Vegeta could see he would not be getting back to his training anytime soon.