Note: This fic was originally created solely for the purpose of character development, but I think I've gone crazy on my baby, don't you agree? If you chose not to read the summary, this is a romance about Goten and Bra - not immediately, mind you. However, it's not only about them - it's mostly about how their family members cope with their budding romance. Don't expect Goten and Bra to have much 'alone time'! Please note that I may refer to this story later on, in my other fics, so you can further be acquainted with things that happen later on in the plot.
Please R&R, by the way! It would be really nice to get some reviews, as this is my first fic! If you're going to give constructive criticism, please do it politely! I'm always open to new ideas, as well!
June 20, 2009: Having not updated this fic in almost three years, I decided to reread it to see where I left off. Of course, having written this when I was a younger teenager, I discovered several blaringly obvious inaccuracies… What you are now reading, dear reader, is an edited version of the 2004 (I say 2004 because I wrote this that year; I posted it on this site in 2005) story. This particular chapter just has some grammatical corrections; however, others may have some changes in characterization and plot. Please enjoy, regardless! It's still nearly the same fic.
The Strangest Thing
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.
Chapter 1: Pregnant? Again?
It was late one morning that Bulma Briefs, esteemed president of Capsule Corporation, woke up from a rather sound sleep. Mumbling drowsily to herself, she opened one reddened eye to gaze over at the digital clock sitting on her nightstand. The blaring red characters only evoked several groans from the woman, however; this was the third week she'd woken up at around 10:45, she noted. Stifling a drowsy yawn, she stretched, and limply rose out of her empty bed.
Vegeta, her husband and proclaimed Prince of the nearly extinct Saiyan race, was undoubtedly in the gravity room downstairs. Bulma wiped her eyes a bit and murmured a few incomprehensible words before slowly ambling towards her bathroom.
The first thing she did while there was to stare at her reflection in the mirror; however, it was a very unappealing, weary woman that she saw. She frowned. The droopy eyes, the reddened eyes, the pale visage… this was the face of someone ill, and not with any ordinary sickness.
Stripping from her pink pajamas and lacy underwear, she stepped into her shower, where an inviting, cold jet of water awaited her. She spent the necessary amount of time bathing herself; when she was done, she wrapped her pink towel around her body and returned to her bedroom, where she opened her chest of drawers and selected some clean pink underwear to wear.
She then went to her walk-in closet, where she promptly clutched a sleeveless pink dress in her arms. She hesitated before doing anything else, though, eyes roaming the satiny material. 'What's with all the pink?' It wasn't as if it were her favorite color, after all. But as a woman who was well aware of colors and the interpretations they sometimes gave off, she knew she wanted to feel just as happy, girly, and perky as the pale red color often meant.
Vegeta hated the color, though. And as much as she desired to be one with her clothes, she was not in the mood to get into a conflict this morning; she selected a sleeveless red dress to wear, instead. Vegeta would have to win this battle, though she was well aware that coming across more trouble was going to be inevitable.
She sat at her vanity table and opted for another alternative: wearing bold and perky makeup. She slowly dragged a powder brush across her face before picking up a tube of mascara and her reddest and boldest lipstick. Once that was done, she slipped into her favorite three-inch heels, took her purse, and left the room.
Before she went downstairs, however, she crept into her only child's room. She shook her head knowingly at the sight before her: as expected, the five-year-old was still asleep, snoring peacefully. Trunks would have to sleep at his normal bedtime, next time, and she would have to show him that she meant business, too. Gently tucking some of his bright lavender hair behind his left ear, she kissed him on the cheek before leaving for the elevator, closing the door quietly behind her.
One of her employees was already in the elevator when she boarded it. "Why, good morning, Ms. Briefs!" he chirped lightly, clearly unaware of the woman's slightly grouchy attitude.
Bulma glanced over at him and forced a tight smile in acknowledgement. 'Why the heck did I have to take the elevator?' She knew her scientists; once they started with their "Good morning"s, they would likely continue with other small, unnecessary talk. Normally she didn't mind it, but today, she only wished she had enough strength to make it through the fourteen flights of stairs to the main floor.
As if on cue (or as if he'd read her mind), the scientist continued with the one-sided conversation. "And how's the boy? Healthy and strong, I presume..." his voice trailed off upon reaching the realization that his boss wasn't talking very much. A very uncomfortable silence ensued.
Unfortunately for the blue-haired woman, the elevator opened two floors down, and another scientist entered. Grinning widely, he reached over and gave a pat on the back to his co-worker. "Hey, James," he said merrily. "Hope you're doing well!"
Bulma frowned. 'Why is this elevator so goddamn slow? I'll have to remember to improve it the next time I'm free…'
As expected, the second scientist turned to her almost immediately. "Why, good morning, Ms. Briefs!" He grinned widely, taking a long, careful look at her. "What a wonderful dress you're wearing— Whoa!"
Bulma was taken aback by his sudden exclamation. 'This isn't the same repetitive conversation they always carry out… I wonder what's up?' "What?"
In the next second, she regretted her thoughts.
The engineer chuckled, and, forgetting all formalities, lightly touched a startled Bulma's stomach. "Whoa, what have you been eating, porky? You look a bit thick around the edges!"
She visibly twitched. "…What did you just say?"
For a second, it looked as though the first scientist was the only other genius there besides the irked president. "Uh… he said you looked a bit thick?"
Nah. She was wrong. She was the only intellect here, it seemed – or maybe she was about to be the only one here.
"I don't care about the dweeb saying I looked a bit thick," she said slowly, advancing upon the now terrified employees (who were now cowering in the corner as she prepared to scream). "Did he just call me 'porky'?"
Anyone who was currently near the elevator on the lobby floor heard the shrieks. "You insolent little pigs!" They also heard a loud noise – something that sounded eerily like a punch to the head -- and the anguished scream that promptly accompanied it.
The elevator door finally opened (it seemed like forever to two of the riders present), and the two engineers, the second holding his head and sobbing heartily, ran out. Bulma stormed out as well, positively seething.
"Why, gwood worning, Ms. Briefs! Why, gwood worning, Ms. Briefs!" she mocked, throwing her hands up in the air in well-deserved exasperation. In the corner of her eye, she caught a nearby secretary observing the scene noisily. "Oh, lay off," she snarled at her; fortunately, the startled woman backed off almost immediately.
But then she remembered something. "Wait! Is my husband in the gravity room?" the sullen woman asked before the secretary could make her retreat complete. This morning was already proving to be a rather stressful one, and she did not want to have to search for Vegeta at all, especially when it wasn't necessary.
"Y-Yeah, Mr. Vegeta is there. I seen 'im go there myself," the blonde secretary stuttered in her husky, Southern accent. Her feet remained rooted to the spot, as though she were afraid to even budge.
"Good." Bulma brushed past the daunted woman and went in the direction of the GR room. When she arrived, she knocked three times. And waited.
Five minutes later, and still no response. She was unaware as to just how impatient she was quickly getting. "Vegeta! Open up, right now! I know you're in there!"
"Calm down, woman. I'm right behind you," his voice said calmly from behind.
She whirled around and stared at her husband, who had his usual triumphant smirk plastered on his face. In his hand, he held a bottle of mineral water. "Well, what did you want?" he demanded, taking a swig of water from the bottle.
Bulma was so unusually taken aback by the slight turn of events that she didn't know what to snap back with. After a few seconds, she finally recollected her voice. "Uh, just to say that I'm going to pay a visit to my doctor. I haven't been feeling well. Something might be up."
He snorted derisively. "That's all? And since when do you have to tell me where you want to go?"
Normally, she would shoot back with an onslaught of insults as to how rude and uncaring he was. But right now, Bulma found her eyes uncharacteristically welling up with tears. "Well, I just thought you would want to hear," she said softly, avoiding eye contact with him. She glanced up at the ceiling, instead, willing her tears to retreat back into her eyes.
Vegeta's frown deepened considerably at the sight; nevertheless, he felt obligated to cheer up his wife. "If all you want to do is go, then go," he said a little more gently (for him, anyway).
She shot him a quick glance of gratitude before wiping her eyes and turning to head towards Capsule Corp's entrance; Vegeta followed, perhaps to make sure she was safe (though he would likely never admit it). "Make sure that when Trunks gets up, he eats breakfast and takes a shower, okay? And make sure he eats something healthy. It's about time you learn how to cook things for him. I'm not going to be here all the time, you know. And maybe he should meet up with his tutor and start his lessons up again. If Chi-Chi makes her son do schoolwork every day, why can't mine? And make sure that after he finishes training with you, he drinks some water and takes another shower, okay? I don't want him being dehydrated-"
"Just go, Bulma," Vegeta sighed wearily. He pushed her gently out of the doorway, and when she was safely heading towards the street, he headed back to the GR to continue his strenuous training. He decided he would just wait for Trunks to wake up. After all, Bulma would likely burst an artery if she found out that he disturbed her 'precious' son's sleep.
He grunted and prepared to do his daily thousand push-ups. "Women." The Saiyan Prince knew exactly where this was going, having been through the experience before.
He just wasn't certain if he was ready to handle his suspicions being confirmed yet.
Bulma presently sat in the waiting room of her mother's old OB-GYN office. For the sixth time in fifteen minutes, she stared at the medical history paper that the receptionist had wanted her to fill out. Fatigue? She'd checked that one off as soon as she'd seen it. No tolerance? Check. Weight gain/Weight loss? She hesitated before putting a check under 'Weight Gain,' uncomfortably recalling her employees' comments. Uncharacteristic impatience? 'Same thing as no tolerance,' she noted haughtily, but checked it all the same, remembering how she'd blown up at the GR door after just five minutes (usually, it took her at least seven minutes). Moodiness? That one deserved the biggest check of all.
Finally setting her pen down, she glanced at the other patients briefly. There were only two other women situated in the office. One sat directly across from her, trying to read a magazine as her little daughter tugged impatiently on her shirt. The other woman was seated right next to her, watching the wide-screen television that was set up in the waiting room. Bulma noted how every now and then, she would pat her bulging belly gently.
The Capsule Corp president smiled at the woman. "How far are you?" she asked, indicating the woman's pregnancy.
Aforementioned woman matched Bulma's pleasant smile. "Well, about six months. And after three months, I finally get to see my little darling." She turned briefly to coo at her stomach. "I don't know what the sex is, though. I already have a daughter, so I'm kind of hoping for a boy."
Bulma smiled again, but before she could say anything, the receptionist yelled out, "Ms. Briefs? The doctor would like to see you now."
"Wish me luck," she whispered jokingly to the woman as she got up and walked past the doctor's door. "I have a pretty good feeling how this is going to end, but somehow, I can't shake these butterflies!"
The woman smiled, once again touching her rotund belly. "Don't worry. It'll all be well."
An hour or so later…
A very relieved Bulma now headed home, tunes from her favorite radio station blasting in her car. Things had gone as expected at the OB-GYN's; the only thing she regretted was not bringing Vegeta along to hear the news firsthand. 'He probably already knows, though,' she mused, expertly retrieving her cell phone from her purse while simultaneously keeping both eyes on the road. She speed-dialed her house's telephone number and waited patiently for someone to pick up.
"Hello?" a boy's voice asked.
Bulma grinned. Trunks was going to be so happy when he heard the news! "Trunks? It's Mom. Did you eat breakfast?"
"Yeah, some receptionist lady made me something. But she didn't make a lot, and I'm still hungry," he complained.
Bulma frowned. She'd specifically told Vegeta to make the food himself, as the workers at Capsule Corp didn't exactly understand Saiyan appetites. It was exactly like that jerk to get someone else to do the dirty work. She made a mental note to berate him when she got back. "Where's that father of yours? Is he still training?"
"No, we stopped a while ago. He's looking in the fridge for something to eat."
"Can you give him the phone, dear?" She waited for a bit as Trunks obeyed her request.
"You can't even say hello anymore?!" she snapped.
"Well, what do you want?" he asked impatiently, opening a bottle of spoilt milk and sniffing it. "I'm hungry."
"I'm coming home now. And I understand that you got some stranger to cook Trunks his breakfast... Why, pray tell?" She didn't wait for his petty excuses – nor did she decide to question the sound of something plastic colliding into the wall in the background. "We'll talk about that later. Right now, I need you to call all of our friends. I want to have a little party tonight, because I have something very important to tell everybody. Inform the entire Capsule Corp. And call Goku and his family; Videl, too... Well, I'm pretty sure Gohan will want to take her anyway. Invite Krillin, Eighteen, and Marron; Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, and even..." Bulma paused, making a face, "Master Roshi. And if he says anything, please don't hurt him. He's just a crazy old man."
"If he's just a 'crazy old man,' why do you want to invite him?" Vegeta wondered. He frowned deeply, recalling several of the perverted man's previous antics.
"Because it wouldn't be nice if I didn't!"
"I can't recall a time when you were ever kind to that geezer, woman. And why is it even necessary to have a celebration for something like this?"
"Because I said so! Jeez, this isn't 21 Questions!" she snapped, and then paused as his last question finally sunk in. "So you know."
"Of course I do, woman," Vegeta replied. "The crabbiness, the incessant complaints about fatigue… You've even gotten a bit thicker. What else would cause all that?" He threw a quick glance at Trunks, who was presently trying to tip-toe through the chunks of rotten milk on the tiled floor. "Remember that we've gone through this before."
She bristled at the word 'thick,' but didn't say anything. "Just do what I asked, please."
"I'll call Kakarot and the rest of them," Vegeta gave in (but not really, as he was really planning for Trunks to do all the calling; where did that woman get off on commanding him to do her work? Did she forget who he was?). "Just make sure this thing you're planning doesn't get too out of hand. As it is, I'm already behind on my training. No thanks to you, of course."
Bulma sighed, resisting the urge to massage her temples as she drove. "It won't get messy, I promise."
"Good," Vegeta replied, hanging up the phone.
Bulma was left to sit in her car and wonder how her friends and family would receive the news. She only hoped the majority of them (namely her little boy) would take it well.
June 20, 2009: You have just read the first revised chapter of TST. Now, you may be wondering: Bra isn't even born yet, so how is this a Goten/Bra fic? Well, this chapter and the next few were created to compare how things were before Bra was born to how they became after she was born and grew up. And besides, what can I say? I rather enjoy writing about the Briefs. I love the relationship they have with one another! And I love the relationship they have with the Sons, which, of course, is another integral part of this story (obviously, as one Son falls for one Briefs, and vice versa!). Please continue to read!