~Birthday~

The morning sun shone brightly against the white marble countertops in Capsule Corp.'s kitchen. Vegeta, however, had better things to do than marvel at the beauty of the day. He needed to fuel-up before training. Now that Kakarot was back from the dead, a fire was lit under him. Super Saiyan 3 his ass. What a ridiculous form. Wasteful. He would find a new form, a better one, then Kakarot would be the one needing to play catch-up for once.

Vegeta was on his third bowl of breakfast when something at waist-height spoke up in a tentative voice. "Papa?"

Pausing mid-bite, he looked down to where his son was. The small boy's face was set in determination, hands fisted, his cheeks puffed in an attempt to bolster his nerves. Vegeta had seen the same expression on the boy during their training sessions. Trunks was trying to put on a brave front.

"I need help."

Vegeta's brow hitched up. It was rare for Trunks to ask him for help. The boy knew his father favored a rather brutal hands-on approach to learning. Sink or swim. Fight or die. No one came to Vegeta for help unless they were really, truly desperate.

This ought to be good.

When Trunks saw that his request wasn't instantly refused, he pulled something out from behind his back. A magazine, folded open to a shiny picture of a strawberry cake, was cautiously pushed across the kitchen counter for his inspection.

"I want to make this," he explained. "But I don't really know how."

A cake? The boy was pestering him about dessert? Vegeta pushed the picture back. "Ask your mother." She was, after all, far better at cooking than he was.

"I can't. It's for Mom."

Wait… Vegeta glanced at the calendar on the fridge door and grimaced. Tomorrow's date was circled in thick red marker: August 18th. Bulma's birthday.

Damnit. He had spent enough years on Earth to know that celebrating one's birth was something of a big deal, especially to Bulma. So far he had managed to avoid most events, scraping by with the bare minimum of effort. But now that he was married, he got the feeling that his usual recalcitrance wouldn't be so well tolerated.

"We have to do something," Trunks pleaded, eyes the same as Bulma's looking hopefully up at him.

That woman… She had housed him. Kept him well provided for, far better than the Frieza Force ever had. Took care of him, gave him company even when he didn't want it. Especially when he didn't want it. She had… loved him. Bore his son. And somehow found it within herself to forgive him after the world tournament.

If there was one person he would suffer for, one person he would endure some overly sentimental display of affection for, it was her. He still woke up some nights, sweating and shaking with nightmares of her being eaten alive.

Her birthday deserved to be celebrated.

He sighed, pushing his breakfast away. So much for surpassing Kakarot today. "Read me the goddamn ingredients."

~xox~

Vegeta and Trunks (who stood on a step-stool next to him) stared at the horrible mush in the bowl they had been laboring over. Somewhere they had gone horribly awry but Vegeta wasn't ready to take the blame on this one.

Unfortunately, Trunks had inherited his parents' bluntness. "I think you did it wrong."

Vegeta's jaw clenched, shooting the boy a withering side-eye, but he had to agree. The crushed flower petals drifting sadly in the oily-yolky water looked nothing like Earth food he was familiar with. Two and a half cups of 'flower'; Vegeta had been skeptical, but Trunks confirmed that's what the recipe called for. So out they went to the garden and picked some of Bulma's favorite roses to make the cake.

Trunks continued to stir the ingredients, but his shoulders were slumped in sad defeat. The poor kid. He had only wanted to surprise his mother for her birthday. It wasn't his fault he was lumped with a father whose nearest home-making ability was how to cook one's goose. Vegeta made a mental note to learn a few more domestic skills from here on out.

The red circled 18th loomed over them from the fridge door. Like hell he was giving up this easily. "We'll adapt."

Trunks looked up at him, brow creasing in confusion. "Adapt?"

"Yes. We're Saiyan Elite. You think one cake can beat us? Besides, we know your mother better than a magazine, don't we?"

Trunks's eyes light up at his father's words, a smile forming on his face. "Of course we do!"

"Exactly. So, what's the most important ingredient?"

"Strawberries."

Vegeta nodded. He rested his hand on Trunks' soft head and leaned in, his eyes shining with the light of a predator sighting its prey. "Then bring me every strawberry-flavored thing in this house."

The glint in Trunks' gaze reflected Vegeta's. "Yes, Sir!"

~xox~

"Mom?"

Bulma blinked open her eyes, grey pre-dawn light filtering in through the window. The soft glow haloed the lilac hair of her boy who stood next to her bed. Bulma smiled and half sat up, blinking open sleepy-eyes.

"Trunks, honey? What is it?"

Her son hefted something up, offering a bowl to her proudly. "Happy Birthday!"

"Oh, Trunks, it's… lovely," Bulma struggled to think of a complimentary adjective as she took the dish from her son.

What was it? If she didn't know better, it looked like something had been murdered, scooped into a dish, and gelatined. Then decorated with one unlit candle, stabbed haphazardly in the middle. The whole thing smelt cloyingly sweet, reeking of artificial strawberries like some teenage girl's body wash.

"Papa and I made it for you," Trunks announced as he climbed onto the bed, sitting on her legs and watching her with anticipation.

Bulma put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Your father helped you?"

"Yep! It was supposed to be a cake but we adapted the recipe. We're Saiyan elite, you know. Mom, you like pudding, don't you?"

Bulma stared at the cooking disaster, wishing she could have seen her husband and son in the kitchen together. Something remarkably like a soggy flower-petal peeked out from the reddish-brown sludge. "Oh, of course. What uh… How did you adapt the recipe exactly?"

Trunks looked up as he tried to remember. "Okay, so, there are strawberries, and strawberry jell-o, and strawberry syrup, and um—"

Okay, so far it didn't sound too bad.

"And strawberry mints, and strawberry jam, and strawberry yogurt, and coffee, and—"

"Coffee?"

"You like coffee too, right?"

"Right. Of course."

Trunks beamed and continued to list off more strawberry products while Bulma lifted the spoon to get a better look at her 'pudding'. It dribbled back into the bowl the way blood-colored snot might.

Kami, save her.

"Okay, Trunks, I uh, think I get the picture," she put an end to him listing off all the ingredients. Maybe it was best she didn't know what it was made of.

Trunk watched her playing with it. "Aren't you going to try some?"

Bulma hoped her dismay didn't show through her smile. Trunks had clearly worked hard to make it for her. It was the least she could do to sample some. Perhaps this was divine punishment for not having given either her son or husband cooking lessons. She picked up the spoon and wondered if the dragon balls could wish her back from food poisoning.

"Oi. The candle," Vegeta barked from the doorway.

Oh thank fuck, she was saved.

Trunks turned around. "Oh right! Can't you light it?"

"You want me to break your mother's rule on her birthday?"

No ki in the house. Less things got broken that way.

"But—"

"No buts. Get the lighter from the kitchen."

Trunks hurried off the bed to comply. "Okay, okay. Mom, don't eat any until I get back. I wanna watch your reaction!"

Oh boy, he really didn't have to worry about that.

Her husband waited until Trunks was out of earshot before he approached her on the bed. From behind his back he pulled out another bowl, this one filled with a much more pleasing pink pudding. "We owe your mother one," he explained, not quite meeting her eyes. Aw, he was embarrassed! Bulma's heart tightened. Vegeta wasn't big on sentimentality, or cooking, or asking for help, and especially on admitting when he had messed-up, yet he had done all the above for her. To think that angry little space man from years ago would become her husband, that he would die to save the same planet he had once tried to destroy, and was now offering her strawberry pudding in bed. Life really was amazing.

Vegeta put the candle into Panchy's strawberry pudding and shoved the horrific one under the bed before their son returned.

Bulma wrapped her arms around his strong neck. "My hero," she whispered warmly into his ear.

He hesitated, still getting used to this affection business, but soon enough put his arms on her lower back in a hug.

"Ewwww, gross." Trunks announced obnoxiously loud from the doorway, shielding his eyes behind his hand. "I'm right here you two."

"I could end that problem real quick, boy," Vegeta growled.

Trunks gulped and approached the bed, offering the lighter to his father. Vegeta took it and lit the candle as Trunks settled on the other side of his mother. "Make a wish, Mom."

Bulma looked between her son and her husband, their handsome faces glowing in the light of the candle, waiting on her expectantly. Her precious boys. A warm pain squeezed her chest, her heart filled to the brim with a happiness she didn't know was possible. She let out a little laugh, trying to expel some of the feeling before she began to cry.

"I can't think of anything to wish for. I already have everything I could ever want."

"Oh… Can I have your wish then?" Trunks asked.

Vegeta promptly slapped him upside the head.

"Ow!"

Bulma laughed, grabbing both of them and kissing each one on the cheek. "I love you both so much. Thank you."

"Ew, Mom, GROSS!"

Vegeta blushed, but his arm wrapped tight about her back, holding her close.

"Happy birthday, Bulma."

~xo0xo~

AN: For Kathryn who requested: Bulma's birthday! Trunks does something cute and Vegeta does a secret cute thing because he doesn't give a sh*t but he knows she would be so happy about it.

Thanks to Stupidoomdoodles for helping me come up with some cute ideas.

And yes, I may have timed this to coincide with August 18, haha XD Happy Birthday, Queen B!