Author's Notes: This is my first Dragonball Z fic. I would like to start by saying I watched the series a long time ago and have been picking it back up as of recently. However, my time line might be a bit off. By that, I think Trunks and Bra's ages may be off in relation to each others. That should be the only thing affecting this story. This is set whenever the two Brief children may be that age. It really doesn't have a specific placing among the DBZ timeline.

I would also like to say, I don't own Dragonball Z and I in no way profit from this story.


Training. That's how this morning was beginning. Just as it had started countless mornings since before that day. Throughout his entire life living in the Capsule Corporation. Wake up-- Train. Eat-- Train. Eat-- Train. Shower-- Go to sleep. The process would most likely repeat the very next morning.

It was a wonderful sort of consistency that Vegeta prided himself on.

He kicked the air, testing his agility under the harsh gravity. It was getting easier, which meant he'd have to have Bulma go in later and work on the GR for him. Make it even more rigorous-

A loud buzzer beeped in the room. Somebody wanted inside.

Vegeta regained proud posture and he waited.

"Dad?" It was Trunks.

"What?" Vegeta smirked. Perhaps dating was no longer going to envelop the teenagers mind. Maybe he was here to join his father in a training session-

"Dad, Mom's sick."

Vegeta's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. He was no doctor, and he had never been one known for wonderful bedside manner. Why would Trunks go to him?

Scowling, he approached the door and shut off the gravity, opening the seal to look at his son. "And?" he demanded.

Trunks made a face and Bra looked at her father at his side. He hadn't even sensed the little girl's energy. She was quite weak and Trunks's energy signature just overwhelmed hers.

"Go help her!" Bra demanded of her father pushily.

"Yeah, Grandma and Grandpa are on that vacation at that place-"

"Oh, the details," Vegeta interrupted his son sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he stepped out completely from his GR and into the outside with his children.

"Well, they're not here is the point I was trying to make," Trunks replied, his tone as huffy as the little girl standing at his side had been moments earlier.

"Go help her!" Bra repeated, starting to tug on Vegeta's pants.

He glanced down at her and sighed. It was no wonder that he hadn't noticed Bulma being ill. He had trained so intensely the night before that he had dozed off in the shower. He had awoken in bed, somebody had moved him and he assumed it to be Bulma. She hadn't been in the immediate area though. So he shrugged it off and resumed training. That had been at about 4 that morning when he walked back into the GR.

"I have to go to class," Trunks was explaining now, "and, despite your reasoning that Bra is a female, she's just a girl and she doesn't have the ability to look after Mom right." He looked down at his father now, hoping that he wouldn't have to go into it further.

"Whatever. Go learn or whatever it is you claim to do in that schooling facility. I'll see to your mother," Vegeta scowled, his hand on Bra's absent mindedly.

"Really?!" Trunks exclaimed, obviously expecting his father to bail on looking after Bulma.

"If I were to let her rot wherever she is with whatever disability she's obtained due to her human weaknesses I'd never hear the end of it when she recovered," Vegeta rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Cool! Thanks, Dad!" and in a flash, Trunks was gone.

Vegeta sneered, apparently he kept his agility at top notch to avoid being in the same room as his father for more than was required.

"Daddy. Go fix Mommy."

He blinked and looked down at Bra, having forgotten she was even there. He lifted her up into his arms, "I'll see what I can do for her. I can't guarantee she'll be fixed. She's only human," he jeered his wife's race.

"But you're not. You're special, Daddy. You can fix her, I know it," Bra told him. She was beaming with Saiyan pride. Vegeta looked down and saw a look of honor and unmovable self-confidence reminiscent of his own. This was his little Saiyan Princess and she loved him with all of her heart.

He smiled ever so lightly, "I'll see what I can do," he repeated.


"Woman?" Vegeta walked into the room Bra had guided him into. It was the bedroom. He had been so tired the night before he hadn't even noticed the room he'd been placed in hadn't been his own. Bulma had shoved him off in some guest bedroom so she didn't have to deal with her ghost of a husband.

"… Bulma?" he repeated, seeing the lump under the covers not move. He slowly set Bra down on the ground, motioning with his hands for her to stay put as he walked over to his wife. "Trunks informed me that you're ill," he tried to stir a reaction out of her. Bulma didn't budge and Vegeta pursed his lips.

"You must be ill. You've shut up for once in your life," Vegeta bantered as he leaned over the bed and removed the blanket from his wife. Her beautiful face was pallid with the exception of her cheeks which were a bright red. She looked like a child who had gotten into her mother's makeup and only knew what to do with the blush. Her hair was a mess around her head and her eyes opened groggily to look up at her prince gazing down at her. She didn't say anything. She just watched him through squinted foggy eyes.

"Daddy, fix heeeeer," Bra whimpered, taking a step forward and Vegeta glanced over at his daughter.

"Stay put. You can catch this, child," Vegeta ordered and Bra saluted him before resuming her previous position.

Vegeta's eyes went back to Bulma. "How are you feeling?" he inquired.

Bulma chuckled softly, "How do you think?" she hoarsely retorted.

"Well, you're not dying if you can still be hateful," Vegeta decided and he took off his glove, wiping his palms on his training towel.

"If you think you're putting that sweaty hand on my head without washing it, you better think twice," Bulma interrupted Vegeta's actions.

"You're already sick," Vegeta said curtly.

"Don't care. Go wash your hands."

"Daddyyyyy, just listen to her. Mommy's smart," chimed Bra.

"You've brainwashed her," Vegeta snorted and he left the side of the bed to go the bathroom to wash up.

"So have you!" Bulma hollered roughly from the bed before starting to cough.

Vegeta's jaw clenched at the sound of her coughs. Those damn cigarettes didn't help her out any in the healthy lung department. He began to wash his hands but decided half-way through he might as well just shower.

It only took about a minute to shower, he just needed to wash the sweat off. He patted down and changed into sweat pants and a tight black t-shirt with Bulma's branding on it. Capsule Corporation. 'Yeah, we know the name already. It's plastered on just about every single piece of technical equipment on this side of the galaxy,' Vegeta thought inwardly as he walked back over to the bed. Bra had plopped on the closest chair to her mother and Vegeta sighed.

"I told you to stay put," but his heart wasn't in the order. His eyes were on Bulma again.

"Mommy got quiet. I wanted to make sure her heart was still thump-dumping," Bra told him.

Vegeta smiled despite himself. "Pumping," he corrected.

"No! Thump-dump!" Bra firmly insisted.

"Well, her heart is still thump-dumping. I assure you that much," Vegeta pressed his hand to Bulma's forehead and his face fell.

Her eyes flickered open from dozing off moments before and made a face of disapproval of her prince's expression. "What?"

"You're very hot."

"I know. I don't even need makeup to look good-"

"Stop that. You're feverish," Vegeta cut her off, not seeming like he was in the mood to quip with her.

"I have a cold, it comes with the territory. I'll be okay, 'Geta," Bulma frowned at his worry.

"I'll get you a cloth," Vegeta decided and he left the room before returning with a cold damp rag. He placed it with a not-exactly gentle plop on her forehead and she gasped in surprise.

"C-cold!"

"To bring down the fever," he nodded at her confidently.

"You son of a bitch, you could have slid it on a bit more tenderly," Bulma adjusted it on her forehead and glared at him.

"Since when have you known me to be tender, woman?" Vegeta smiled warmly down at her though and Bulma smiled back.

They knew when. When they were 'mating' as Vegeta liked to call it.

"Daddy is nice to me!" Bra chirped in the background.

The prince sighed, "You've trained her to make peanut gallery comments constantly. I can't say I entirely approve of this new development."

"You never talk. I have to get your offspring to say something to me. If they acted like you, nobody would have known I was sick," Bulma said softly up to him. She watched as a flash of guilt came across Vegeta's golden features and he seemed to shake it off physically before resuming his stoic facial expression.

"They'd be strong and able to protect you if they were like me. Your son is too busy trying to learn the ways of Earth to have the abilities to protect it," Vegeta countered. He took the bottle of medicine from the night-stand and examined the directions as though they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"What about Bra?" Bulma inquired.

There was a long minute of silence as the girls awaited his reply. "She's too fragile," Vegeta settled on the phrasing.

"Too human, you mean," Bulma watched him, waiting for him to look up and say something.

"Yes. I suppose being human accounts for a great amount of that weakness," was all he said as he began to pour the medicine into a spoon.

"I'm not weak! I'm strong!" Bra huffed in the corner.

"Hmm," Vegeta hummed simply as he motioned for Bulma to sit up.

The blue-haired beauty struggled weakly on the bed and Vegeta sighed. He put the handle of the spoon in his mouth and bit down on it so the medicine didn't spill out. His jaw clenched with the tightness of a dedicated pit-bull, he leaned over and helped her sit up slowly. Bulma was watching the spoon, waiting for the medicine to spill everywhere. If it had been any other person in the galaxy with that spoon handle in between their teeth it probably would have spilt. But it didn't.

Bulma was sitting up against the many pillows Vegeta had piled up and he removed his hands from her body. She watched with cerulean eyes as he removed the spoon from his teeth without spilling a drop. "What are you staring at, Mommy?" Bra inquired curiously in the background.

"… Just your daddy, hun," Bulma replied, "He's just awfully handsome is all."

"Like Trunks!" Bra chimed.

Vegeta smiled lightly but said nothing. He held the spoon in front of her lips. "Open."

Bulma did as she was told, watching Vegeta now as she swallowed down the thick liquid. She thought she'd done pretty well but her body seemed to disagreed because she was soon in a coughing fit on the bed.

Vegeta's hand slid up to her shoulder and she felt it subconsciously, gently rubbing her skin to soothe her. When she had stopped coughing she looked up, her eyes in tired slits, at Vegeta. His lips were pursed and he opened them to ask, "Did you get it all down?"

Bulma nodded weakly and Vegeta sighed, "Then it would be best for you to lie back down, now." He softly pushed her body down on the bed so she was back in her previous position.

"You need to rest. I'll come back with water and sustenance so you will be able to regain strength faster," Vegeta informed her. He stood up and left the room, Bra popping to her feet and running out after him.

"Daddy, what's sustenance?" she asked.

"Soup."

"Oh. Is it gonna be made with love like Nanny Bunny makes it?!" Bra inquired peppily.

"… Yes."

"Good. Then it's gonna be super good cause you love Mommy this much," and she opened her arms big and wide to illustrate the love-measurement to the Saiyan prince.

Vegeta looked down and smiled. "It will definitely be better than your mother's soup, Bra."