A/N: Unlike some authors on I plan to use the title "Kami-sama" to replace the word "God," regardless of context, with the exception of "goddamn."
This the winter following the annihilation of Cell, which I will assume took place in the summer.
Disclaimer: DBZ isn't mine, no profit, nothing
"Oh come on, Vegeta!" Bulma put her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me you're gonna train over Christmas."
"I'm going to train over Christmas."
"To what end?" she demanded. "To defeat a practically pacifist twelve-year-old?"
Well, now that she put it that way, it did seem rather foolish.
"What's Christmas, anyway?" Vegeta asked, draping his towel over his left shoulder.
"It's a holiday that's widely celebrated," Bulma answered, smiling. "You thank Kami-sama that we are alive and well and—"
"That's what you called 'Thanksgiving,'" he interrupted irritably, believing that she had tricked him into enduring Kakarotto's weakling friends when they had visited on the said "Thanksgiving" for dinner.
"No, that's—never mind," Bulma said, a little annoyed, too. "Christmas is a lot more 'sold out' than Thanksgiving. Best part is, it's when gifts are exchanged." She hugged him despite his sweat and looked into his eyes. "You going to give me something, Vegeta?"
"You know what, I just might train over Christmas after all," he said as he drew away from her embrace.
"And where do you plan to sleep?" Bulma asked sweetly.
"And even if I let you sleep inside the house, I know you hate the cold," she continued. "And since the GR is out here, you'd have to get out into the snow and ice and cold air in the morning to train."
"Well, it's been pretty warm so far," he said dubiously.
"Forecast for December starting next week: blizzards, ice storms, flurries," Bulma said. "Anyway…if you'd been training all day, at night you'd be all sweaty, and by then the temperatures will have dropped into the sub-zero range, which means your sweat would freeze. Then you'd catch your death of cold—"
"A disease, kill me?" he half-laughed, half-scoffed.
"It nearly got Goku, Vegeta," she reminded him quietly, hugging him again. "And I really don't want to lose someone close to me, especially over the holidays…"
He hugged her back in a rare gesture of affection. Bulma sighed contentedly, knowing he meant yes.
Vegeta collapsed on the sofa. He stared, bored, at the blinking "Christmas tree." Personally he thought it was a waste of space and energy, but Bulma had insisted upon it. However, he had not been able to resist the temptation to tie her up with the "tinsel." He smirked as he recalled her furious screaming. Eventually he had destroyed her bonds, and she had forced him to follow her to buy some more. But still, her dismay had been pretty damn hilarious.
He heard a foreign sound and automatically scanned the room. His gaze fell upon a plate of cookies and milk. He decided he might as well eat the cookies, and ambled over to the end table where the food had been placed, not bothering to fully register the small sprig that hung directly above him.
"Hey Vegeta," Bulma greeted him from behind him.
He only grunted in reply, since his mouth was full.
"I see you found the cookies mama made for Santa," Her voice held more than a little mirth.
"Yeah—fat, jolly, old man who rides a sleigh run by flying reindeer. He delivers presents to little kids who've been good all year.
"Is he any good at fighting?"
"Oh my fucking—is fighting all you think about?" Bulma didn't wait for an answer. "And no, Santa isn't any good at fighting."
"And how would you know?" he shot at her.
"Um…'cause he doesn't exist?" She laughed when she saw his incredulity. "It's just a ruse to get kids to behave, Vegeta."
Vegeta, snarling, turned his back on Bulma and consumed the cookies with evident violence. That was a dirty trick! How could he have known if this "Santa" was real or not?!
Bulma gasped, causing Vegeta to face Bulma, his eyes searching the room for something malign. He realized too late that her gasp had been far from serious.
"Oh, look!" she grinned mischievously, pointing at the small spray of vegetation that dangled from the ceiling. "It's mistletoe!"
"What about it?" Vegeta asked as he took a relatively calm bite out of another cookie.
"Weeeell," Bulma's grin widened considerably. "It's tradition here on Earth to kiss anyone who's under the proverbial mistletoe during the winter holidays…"
"Kiss? What's that?"
Bulma's jaw dropped.
"Y-you don't know?" she gaped. "You HONESTLY don't know?"
"I'm not acquainted with all of your human customs," Vegeta said snappishly. "So what is it?"
"It's a gesture of affection—Kami-sama, you really don't know?"
"Bulma," he growled.
"Then—then how did you Saiyajins express affection?"
"We didn't," Vegeta replied flatly. "It was just approval from both sides, screw, then wait until the child was born."
"So you guys never did it for pleasure?" she asked, awed.
"How would I know?" Vegeta demanded scornfully, his cheeks reddening nevertheless. "I never got old enough to learn anything about courtship, if there was any. I only perceived tradition."
"So you Saiyajins never kissed."
"Goddammit Bulma." Vegeta turned to leave.
"Oh, no you don't," Bulma grabbed his forearm and dragged him back to the spot where he had been standing seconds ago. "Kissing under the mistletoe is a tradition I plan to uphold."
"But you've seen me and Yamucha kiss, right?"
"No! I, unlike the Bastard, was actually training to face the androids!"
"And unlike 'the Bastard' a.k.a. Yamucha, was blowing up GR's!"
"At least I—" he began furiously.
Bulma placed her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.