A/N: Hello peoples! Just a simple little one-shot for Christmas; from me to you. Set after the Majin Buu saga.

Merry Christmas.

Presents, Cookies, and Christmas.

"Don't be such a jerk, Vegeta!"

"I'm not being a 'jerk', Woman! I just don't see the point of this stupid holiday."

"Ugh! How many times must I explain this? You show your love and gratitude for a person by giving them gifts! Not that you'd understand that at all."

Bulma Briefs suddenly found herself pressed against the wall, her Saiyan mate's face a mere two inches from hers.

"Do you really need something as trivial as that to show I really care about you?" he asks softly.

Bulma's mouth fell open a little. "N-no," she said. "Of course not. But it's a nice gesture, just the same."

"Hmph," was all he said. His black lashes brushed her cheeks as he kissed her, gently at first before gradually becoming rougher.

"Uh…Mom? Dad? What are you doing?"

They broke apart almost instantly, much to the relief of a certain 8 year old, lavender haired child.

Bulma bit back a giggle as Vegeta blushed furiously. "What do you want, boy? Can't you see Daddy's busy?"

Trunks smirked, his lips curling upwards the same way his father's often did. "Yeah, I see that. Goten's on the phone. He wants to know if I can come over."

"Go ahead, Trunks," Bulma said.

"Don't come back too soon," Vegeta muttered. He'd meant to say it quietly, but Trunks, being half Saiyan, heard him anyway, and the poor boy ran screaming out of the room.

Bulma chuckled. "You don't have to scare him so much, Veggie."

"I do if I want to get one minute of peace with my mate."

"Hmph. Like I don't shower you with attention."

He smirked.

"I'm going to bake Christmas cookies," she said, wiggling out from under his arm. "Do you want to help me?"

Vegeta scoffed. "And why in Kami's name would I want to do that?"

"Because, if you don't, I'm taking your present back. And I have to say, it's a pretty awesome present."

His curiosity was instantly piqued, but he would never say so. "Fine."

Bulma grinned triumphantly and took his muscular arm, dragging him to the kitchen.

Bulma had decided to make them the old fashioned way; from scratch.

Chocolate chip had somehow slithered its way into the Saiyans' favorites lists, so that's what she made. She set the oven to a low preheat and began making the batter.

Halfway through, Vegeta's already naturally hot body temperature started rising from the heat the oven was giving off. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, only to leave a mark of flour behind.

Bulma giggled. "Um…Vegeta?"


"There's flour on your face."

He growled, taking a clean towel and wiping at his forehead. He turned away from her as he placed it on the counter next to them, only to feel a powdery substance fall onto his back.

"Woman," he warned, glancing behind him.

Bulma cracked up. "And now it's on your back," she laughed.

He took a huge scoop of powder in his large hands and blew, covering her face and hair. "Ha!" he smirked.

Bulma glared at him. "Vegeta Ouji, you will pay for that. You will pay for that dearly."

She grabbed another handful of flour and prepared to through it at him, only to have the Prince disappear from sight.

"Try to catch me, Woman," he taunted, suddenly on the ceiling.

"Vegeta, that's cheating! I can't climb on ceilings!" she threw it at him anyway, grinning when the tips of his hair suddenly turned white.

She squealed and took off running as he lunged at her.

Two hours later, they were lying in a heap on the living room floor, the flour completely gone and the house covered in handprints and white smudges that resembled feet.

"Happy now, Woman?" Vegeta whispered in her ear. "Now we'll never get the cookies done, and I really wanted to eat some."

She chuckled as he tucked his nose into the crook of her neck. "Too bad. We'll either have to go get some more or just wait till tomorrow."

He smiled against her ivory skin, tickling her. "Well if we're going into town…we should probably go take a shower first…if you're up for it."

"Is that a challenge, Vegeta Ouji?"

"Damn straight."

"You're on."

Two days later…

"I'm getting Trunks a science kit," Bulma said.

"For that absurd holiday? I thought you were supposed to show him affection through the gift," Vegeta snorted.

Bulma scowled. "I'll have you know, Trunks is very smart, when he's not getting into trouble. You should see his grades; the boy's a genius! He'll like a little inventor's kit to build things with."

"Of course he's smart! I'm his father, aren't I? But he's still a boy. He'll like something to play with."

"He can build something to play with! It's fun and educational at the same time."

"For Kami's sake, Woman!" Vegeta cried, throwing his arms in the air. "Not everything has to deal with science!"

"And not everything has to deal with training, either!" she shot back, storming towards her bedroom.

"Let me hear you say that again next time an enemy comes around," he sneered.

"Oh, shut it!" she screeched, her fists clenched girlishly. She stalked back to him, poking his chest accusingly. "You're already the strongest person in the damn universe! Like anyone could beat you. Please. Even Goku's chances are slim. He couldn't beat you just by strength; not with your wit."

His mouth fell open slightly. Bulma had never been one to feed his ego, so for her to pay him a compliment…especially one of that magnitude…

"I…" he paused, searching for the right words in his endless vocabulary system. "Thank you, Bulma."

Bulma looked stunned herself for a moment, then she smiled at her Prince. "You're welcome, Vegeta. I'm going to take a nap, okay. Wake me up when it's dinnertime."

He nodded, and Bulma stepped into their room, shutting the door.

About two hours later, she awoke, but not to Vegeta yelling that he was hungry.

She awoke to the strangeness of….a silent house.

Bulma stood up, subconsciously smoothing her hair as she went downstairs. Her parents had gone out, so there was that.

She'd heard Trunks flying off to Goten's an hour or so ago….

Where the hell was that Saiyan and what was he up to?

She searched the whole house and found nothing. Bulma sighed, sitting on the staircase. Christmas Eve, and her entire family was gone?

Wait…she thought suddenly. There's one more place I didn't check…

Bulma headed outside, pulling her silk robe tighter around her body. It was late, and the stars were already starting to peak out from behind the last shimmers of light from the sinking sun.

She walked up to the gravity room slowly, surprise written on her face when she realized the door was ajar.

Vegeta was inside…but he wasn't training.

Suddenly, she heard him growl savagely. "Stupid Earth traditions!" he hissed.

She peaked inside to find him sitting on the floor, surrounded by…

Wrapping paper.

Bulma stepped inside, curiosity getting the better of her. "Vegeta?"

He jumped, much to her surprise. "What, Woman?" he glared at her. "I'm busy."

She giggled. "I didn't think it was possible to sneak up on a Saiyan, much less you. You must have been concentrating really hard. What are you doing?"

His cheeks turned slightly pink as he avoided her eyes. She glanced past his shoulder and saw a toy helicopter, the box covered in mutilated wrapping paper. "Vegeta?" she asked. "Is that…."

"Trunks….he said he wanted a helicopter," Vegeta muttered.

Well, the lavender haired child had said nothing about a helicopter to her, and it hadn't even crossed her mind. He had so many remote control toys already, so she hadn't even thought about it….

"You went out and bought him a helicopter? For Christmas?"

"No," he said sarcastically. "I stole it from Santa's elves. Where do you think I got it?"

He felt tiny arms enveloping him suddenly. A surprised breath of air escaped his lips as she hugged him tightly.

"That," she said, "Is possibly the sweetest, cutest, more adorable thing you've ever done in your life."

"I am not 'cute' Woman," he mumbled.

"I know. Do you want some help wrapping it?"

"I can do it on my own," he snapped.

She stared at him skeptically. "Vegeta, have you ever wrapped a present before?"

"No," he muttered.

"Well then, you can't possibly know how to. I'll just show you once, and knowing you, you'll be wrapping presents like a professional in the next two minutes." Bulma moved in front of him, took the present, and sat it between them.

"Okay, now give me some tape…"

"SWEET!" Trunks yelled.

The helicopter was the very one he'd admired in the store; bright orange with racing stripes and lightning bolts. It was the fastest remote control vehicle he'd ever owned, and it was amazing.

And it was from his father.

The 8 year old looked at the Saiyan Prince adoringly. Vegeta's lips curled into a scowl, and he looked away.

Or tried to, anyway. Before he could, Trunks was suddenly in his lap, wrapping his arms around his father's neck.

"Thanks, Dad. It's awesome. And look! It's got a claw and everything! I can drop water balloons on Goten!"

Vegeta couldn't help it; he smiled. "Well, since you're using it to take advantage of Kakarot's offspring, I can't say I regret giving it to you."

"Thanks, Dad! Oh man, this is so cool!"

He went off to play with it immediately, not even bothering to open the rest of his many presents. Trunks hadn't opened Vegeta's gift first…nonetheless, all previous gifts had been forgotten. The mere fact that it was from his father and his father alone made it all the more special.

Bulma smiled at her son's vanishing form, knowing full well what the boy was thinking. "You know, he probably loves it more than all the others, just because it's from you."


"Here, silly. Open your present."

She handed him a small box, smiling at his curious face. Vegeta opened it cautiously, like it might be a ticking bomb, his thick eyebrows lifting when he saw what it was.

It was a watch.

"Woman, why do I need a watch when I can tell what the time is by the sun?"

She chuckled at his blunt response. "Oh, it's not just a watch, silly." Bulma looked thoughtful then. "Vegeta, what's the lowest accelerated gravity you can feel?"

"About 120 G's before I feel anything, I suppose," he said.

She marveled for a minute at his strength, but then, he was the Saiyan Prince. Then she smiled. "Okay, gimme the watch."

He handed it to her, and she snapped it on his wrist. "Now," she said, "You push this button," she pushed and held a red button on the side, "Now, say, 'Increase gravity to 120G's' and see what happens."

His eyes widened, and he grinned. "Increase gravity to 120 G's," he said.

Instantly, he felt heavier, if only slightly. Bulma grinned triumphantly as he grunted softly, though his body didn't bend at all.

"That's incredible, Woman," he said.

Huh. A compliment. "You're welcome, Vegeta. See? Now you can train with Goku and NOT blow up the house, because you can fly off somewhere completely uninhabited."

He smirked. "Woman, for that spar we would need an entire planet for our playing field."

"I know. You two are such klutzes."

He growled, kissing her softly. "Do you want to see your present now, Woman?" he asked.

She smiled. "You got me a present?"

"You're my mate, aren't you?"

She blushed. "Yes."

"Alright then. Come here."

He stood up, taking her hand as he pulled her to her feet with him.

Bulma felt tears rising in her eyes as he pulled a black box from his pocket, and got down on one knee in front of her.

"Bulma Briefs," he said solemnly, "I can't give you material things. I can't give you money, though God knows you have enough as it is, I can't give you pretty clothes, and…" he paused. "I can't give you all the affection you deserve. Saiyans don't have those kinds of showy sentiments." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"But," he said, "I can give you Royalty. I can give you my heritage, my strength, my honor, and my pride. That's all I have, and I'm offering it to you as a present for this trivial holiday that I still can see no point in."

She was crying now. He didn't understand what he'd done wrong, but it was too late to stop now and ask her what was the matter. He opened the black box then, revealing an exquisite diamond ring that fit her spitfire personality perfectly.

"Bulma," he said, "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She choked on a giddy laugh, leaping into his muscular arms.

"Yes. A thousand times, yes."

A/N: Marry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. :)