A/N: This story is the third and final installment to my Bulma/Vegeta canon series, and it follows after "You'll Be the Death of Me" (3 year fic) and "Change of Heart" (post Cell fic). Though I might make some references to those fics, it's not necessary to have read them beforehand. This story's meant to follow canon, so it can stand alone. I hope. :P
I don't own DBZ. Hope you guys like. :)
He'd sacrificed his life to destroy Buu. He'd swallowed his pride for once in his life, and fused with his archrival, not caring that the fusion was meant to be permanent. He'd then worked with that same archrival, risking everything he had left to buy Goku the precious time he needed to prepare the Spirit Bomb to finish off Buu. Hell – it was his idea to use the damn Spirit Bomb in the first place.
Yes, suffice to say that without the Saiyan prince, Earth would have been doomed. He was a hero. A bonafide good guy, officially declared so by Shenron. He should have been proud of himself.
But he wasn't. Truthfully, he was just tired.
Vegeta was sitting down on the sofa, his head reclining in his hand, his elbow resting on the arm rest. His other arm was on the back of the sofa, allowing Trunks to subtly lean into his side as they both watched TV in silence. His son hadn't left his side since they got back home, and Vegeta had yet to breathe a word of complaint about it. Being near each other was enough for both of them after their ordeal.
For now, anyways. Vegeta knew that Trunks had things to say about what happened, and that sooner or later, they would talk about it. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it.
"Hey, Vegeta?" Bulma called to him.
The prince glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. It was the first time she had addressed him since telling him hours ago in her hoverjet about the small get-together she was throwing that night. He was opposed to it, of course. All he wanted to do was sleep. But both Bulma and Trunks seemed to want it, and so he kept his objections to himself for once.
"I need your help taking some of this stuff outside. Can you come over here, please?"
They both knew that she was lying. After all, Bulma had her bots to do anything and everything regarding heavy lifting, and when she did require Saiyan help, it was usually her son that she ordered to help her. What she really wanted was to talk to Vegeta in private before her friends started arriving. She had left him and Trunks alone as long as she could, but now she wanted to talk.
Vegeta hesitated a second. Finally, he nudged Trunks, making the boy sit up straight. The prince then got up and walked over to her. Bulma turned around and headed into the kitchen, with Vegeta following close behind her. His wife stopped and gestured at the three large plastic bags of ice in their large freezer.
"Just these three?" Vegeta asked, pulling one twenty pound bag out and slinging it over his shoulder. He felt her watching him, but he was just focused on the ice.
"For now. Don't want the sodas to get warm," Bulma distantly said, clearly not caring about sodas at that moment.
"Hn," he grunted, balancing the second bag easily with the first, and then lifting the third in his hand. He turned around without looking at her and walked out into their backyard, with Bulma following him. Ice, sodas, get-togethers. It was like everything was back to normal. At least, until she finally got right down to it.
"So, are we going to talk about it?" Bulma asked once she was sure Trunks couldn't easily overhear them. Vegeta frowned, dropping the bags of ice into different plastic tubs filled with drinks for the get-together.
"Nothing to talk about," he grumbled, squatting down in front of one of the tubs.
Her eyes narrowed. "You died, Vegeta-"
"I'm here now," Vegeta cut her off, ripping open the bag of ice harder than he needed to.
"I know that you're here now," she said, her voice softening. Bulma couldn't resist the urge to touch his back when he stood up. Vegeta turned to face her, and she hugged him as soon as he did. She had restrained from embracing him when the others had been there, but no one was watching them now, and she so badly needed to feel him. Vegeta settled his hands on her hips, holding her against him.
"You died too," he commented quietly.
"Yeah, but…" her voice trailed off. She knew that their experiences hadn't been the same. Bulma drew away and looked him carefully in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay? You know, with the whole Majin thing, having that creep Babidi in your head…" He broke their eye contact as she rubbed his shoulders. "I can't even imagine, what that must've been like-"
"Bulma, I let it happen," Vegeta bluntly interrupted. Bulma stopped rubbing his shoulders, visibly confused. He continued before she could get a word in, "I could have stopped him, if I truly wanted to, but I didn't. I knew what he could offer me, and so I let him take control and turn me Majin. Not that it matters now, but I thought you should know," he finished with a careless shrug.
"Wait…what?" Bulma finally asked, her blue eyes sharpening as she recalled the look on her husband's face at the tournament while he goaded Goku into a fight, and the horrible feeling that she had lost him. "You mean that you killed those people at the tournament and you could have stopped it?"
"I just wanted to fight Kakarot. Those humans weren't my concern."
"Do you know how close you came to killing me-"
"You weren't my concern either." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and the hurt that flashed over her face was immediate. Vegeta looked away, ran a hand up through his hair, and sighed. "Woman, it doesn't matter-"
"Bull-shit, it doesn't matter! What the hell did he offer you that was SO good, huh?" Bulma hissed, her hurt quickly giving way to the anger rising inside her. "Well? What was it?"
"Nothing you could understand-"
"Try me," she challenged.
"Fine," Vegeta snarled as his patience snapped. "He gave me power that I couldn't achieve on my own, and he took away my attachments to you and Trunks. It was what I wanted, to feel like I did before I ever met you, and Babidi gave me that. I was finally able to match up with Kakarot – or so I thought. I did what I had to do. Don't fucking look at me like that, woman," he growled in warning. "You asked the question, I gave you the answer. Not my fault if you can't handle it."
Bulma turned away from him, and restlessly paced a bit, trying to bring herself under control lest she rip him a new one. She lasted all of five seconds before she whirled back around to face him, looking at him in a mixture of hurt, disbelief, and growing rage. "Six years. We've been married six goddamned years, Vegeta, and how long did it take you to let Babidi throw that away? A minute? Two min-"
"It doesn't MATTER!" Vegeta yelled in frustration. "You're alive, Trunks is alive, I'm alive, your precious planet is intact, everything turned out picture perfect, so what the fuck does it matter what happened with Babidi!"
"It matters to ME, Vegeta!" Bulma fearlessly yelled back at him. "I need to know that if tomorrow, you get the choice for power, immortality, or whatever the fuck comes your way, that you won't turn your back on us in a second to take it! I need to know-"
"You don't need to know ANYTHING!" he practically screamed in her face. "I've given up everything for you and that boy, ever since Cell was defeated. Everything I've done has been for either you or him! I had the chance to regain honor in battle against Kakarot, and I did it because that's what I needed at the time. It wasn't about YOU, it was about ME-"
"Yes, of course it was about you," Bulma bitterly sneered. "How stupid of me to think that all these years we've spent together, that they're worth more than one last, glorious shot at Goku in a fight-"
He growled low in his throat, "That is not what I meant-"
"Umm…'scuse me..." Trunks awkwardly cut in, getting his parents' attention as he stood at the back door. The boy had seen his hot-tempered parents arguing and bantering with each other millions of times, but this was different. Their tones were meaner, nastier than he'd ever heard them before. He didn't like it one bit. Visibly uncomfortable as he stared down at his feet, Trunks muttered, "Krillin's here with Android 18 and Marron. Just thought you guys should know."
He turned around and quickly headed back inside. Bulma and Vegeta made eye contact, both of them studying each other. Finally, she sighed deeply.
"Okay. You did what you did. You had your reasons. Fine. But what I want – what I need from you, is a promise that you won't let it happen again. I mean, goddamnit, Vegeta, do you even regret tossing us aside like that?" All she got back was a neutral, emotionless stare. "Do you even care?" she asked him in exasperation.
Suddenly, Vegeta decided that he was too tired and irritated to deal with this right now. He turned around, walking away and leaving Bulma alone in the backyard with angry, unshed tears. Best he walk away before he say something that he would truly regret- especially regarding her questions. Of course he regretted his decision. Of course he cared about her and Trunks. The fact that she even had to ask offended him. She had always read him with such pinpoint accuracy, understood how he felt without him needing to articulate it, sparing him the awkwardness of trying. He didn't understand why she couldn't do that now.
Bulma took a moment to get it together, but she couldn't deny her hurt over his silence. She tried to tell herself that her husband was right. It didn't matter anymore, because everything had come out "picture perfect". He had more than made up for his decision. Earth was intact, and though all of her friends would look towards Goku first as the reason why, she would always look towards Vegeta first. But was it so much to ask him for reassurance that it wouldn't happen again? Was he unwilling to give that reassurance out of pride, or because he would be lying if he did? She only had his retreating back as her answer.
A minute later, Bulma finally went back inside. More of her friends had arrived, and they were all being amused by Trunks, Marron, and Goten all playing the Wii on the large screen TV in the living room. Trunks caught her eye when she came in, and his eyebrows drew together as he scowled while he scrutinized her. She greeted Goku, Krillin, Android 18, and Yamcha, with warmth and kindness, even though she was distracted. The only one who truly noticed was Trunks, glancing her with a perception that was beyond his years, even while he played his game. When she looked back at him and motioned for him to step into the next room with her, Trunks instantly tossed his controller over to a startled Krillin, and then obediently went over to his mother.
"Hey kiddo, haven't had a chance to talk to you. You doing okay?" Bulma asked him when they were alone.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Trunks responded with a shrug, before raising an eyebrow. "Are you?"
"Of course. Your father and I-" Bulma started, before hesitating to choose her words. She finally settled on, "We're just having a little disagreement. It's nothing."
"It didn't sound like it was nothing," he muttered, unconvinced.
"It is," she insisted. "I'm sorry you had to hear some of that."
Trunks frowned. His mother had never apologized to him before for any argument she had with his father. Instead of being reassured, he was starting to realize that things weren't quite right between his parents. He shrugged carelessly, looking indifferent, making Bulma sigh as he reminded her of Vegeta. She couldn't resist, and pulled him into a hug.
"Ugh, Mom," Trunks groaned, looking around and making sure no one else could see. But when he was certain that he was in the clear, he gently returned her embrace.
"Go play your game, hon. The food should be here soon. Then we can all eat. I know you must be hungry."
"Yeah," Trunks agreed, before pulling away and looking up at her. "Dad's gonna eat too, right?"
"Of course he is," Bulma reassured him with a strained smile. "And if he doesn't want to eat with everyone else, maybe you can join him upstairs, and you guys can eat together."
Trunks brightened at that, and gave an eager nod. "Yeah, that'd be cool."
Thirty minutes later, Trunks was heading upstairs to do just that, easily juggling two enormous brown paper bags on each of his shoulders filled with the city's best Chinese food. He followed his father's ki signature, though it was unusually low for Vegeta. Frowning in concern, the boy picked up his pace a little bit, and then his concern worsened when he sensed that Vegeta was in his room. The only times his father went into his room was when Trunks was in big trouble. The boy gulped a bit, hoping that wasn't the case now.
Trunks nudged the door to his room open to find Vegeta sitting down at the edge of his bed, looking deep in thought. The prince had his head down, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, but he immediately looked up when Trunks entered.
"Hey Dad. I brought us food. Just for me and you."
"What are you doing in here?"
"Nothing," Vegeta grumbled, keeping to himself the fact that he knew Bulma would never look for him there. Then again, she didn't seem to be looking for him at the moment, so it didn't seem to matter. "What kind of food?"
"Chinese. Mom snuck us all the egg rolls."
"Get that shit off your desk and bring it over here so we can eat."
Trunks did as he was told, and several minutes later, father and son were sitting next to each other again on the boy's bed, using Trunks' desk in front of them as a makeshift dinner table. Trunks was inhaling his food; his mother had been right, he was starving. But Vegeta was eating at such a normal, human pace, that Trunks couldn't help but speak out in concern.
"Dad, are you sick or something?"
"No," Vegeta answered, frowning a bit. "Why?"
"You're barely eating, and I dunno." Trunks shrugged. "Your ki feels kinda weird to me."
"Hn. Probably just from being wished back to life," Vegeta grumbled, even though he knew that his emotions were starting to affect his ki. He hadn't even noticed, but now that Trunks had mentioned it, he forced himself to steady his ki back to its normal levels.
Trunks suddenly began eating slower at the reminder of his father dying, scowling as he poked at some of his food with his chopsticks. It brought back a mix of emotions that he couldn't pin down, but he knew that one of them was anger. Try as he could to ignore it, he found that he couldn't stop it from bubbling up now.
"You shouldn't have knocked me out, you know," Trunks blurted out, immediately getting Vegeta's full attention. But the boy was bitterly glaring down at his plate. It was always easier to address his father when there was no eye contact. "You should have let me fight. I'm strong enough to fight, and if you had let me and Goten help, you probably wouldn't have…you know. Died or whatever."
Vegeta inwardly sighed, putting his chopsticks down. He had suddenly lost his appetite.
"I'm not a little kid," Trunks insisted. "I can fight too, just like everyone else. Goten and I can fuse, and we can even go Super Saiyan 3!"
"But you couldn't do that at the time," Vegeta calmly pointed out.
Trunks growled a little bit, before spitting out, "So! So what? You still should've- you didn't- you didn't have to lie to me-" his voice broke, and so he promptly closed his mouth as his face flushed red in embarrassment.
"Lie to you?" Vegeta blinked a bit in astonishment. He tried replaying everything he'd said lately to his son, but was drawing a blank on anything that was a lie that would upset the boy. "What the hell are you talking about? When did I-"
"When you told me that you were proud of me. You just said that to get me off guard, didn't you?" Trunks accused, rendering his father completely speechless. "So I wouldn't see the hit coming. You lied to me, and then you…then you died -"
"Wait a minute," Vegeta interrupted, shaking his head. "You think what I told you was a lie?"
"Well, yeah! You've never said anything like that to me before! You're the one that always told me that you say anything and do anything to win a fight, and—well, I could've blocked your hit if I had been paying attention!" Trunks yelled, unable to bottle his emotion up. When he was met with complete silence, he snorted, and pushed the desk back as he got back up to his feet. "Whatever! I'm just going back downstairs-"
Vegeta's hand shot out and grabbed Trunks by the arm, and Trunks had barely registered the movement before he was whirled back around and roughly pulled over so he was standing in front of his father. The boy swallowed a bit, suddenly reconsidering whether or not he could have avoided a knockout blow from Vegeta on the battlefield, even if he had been prepared for it.
Vegeta glared at his son for a moment, and then relaxed his grip on his arm. Finally, he let go altogether, and sighed. He knew how Trunks felt. Had he been put into a similar situation at eight years old, he would've felt exactly the same way.
"Listen, boy. I know that you're an excellent fighter, but I don't regret taking you and Goten out of that fight. It wasn't your fight, and I couldn't risk it. I know that you don't understand, and I don't expect you to understand until you have children of your own one day. But what I did was for the best. It's my job to protect you, and one day, perhaps you'll see that."
Trunks shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes. "Fine, I guess," he conceded quietly, before scowling. "But still! You didn't have to-"
"I didn't lie to you. Look at me, son," Vegeta ordered, waiting until Trunks did. The boy was wearing the same look in his eyes that Bulma had earlier, and it brought a wave of guilt over him. It hadn't been easy seeing Bulma look at him that way, but seeing it from Trunks was unbearable. "I didn't tell you that because I was trying to distract you from the blow that was coming. I told you that because I didn't want to die before I could tell you the truth."
Trunks considered his words for a moment, and hesitantly asked, "You meant it then?"
"Of course I did. I'm very proud of you."
Trunks looked back down, trying to remain indifferent, but he couldn't help the small smile tugging on his lips. "Thanks, Dad."
"You have to trust people, Trunks, when they tell you things like that. I don't…" Vegeta paused, searching for the right words, before settling on, "I don't want you to be like me. Not trusting anyone wears on you, kid. Believe me," he distantly added. Trunks frowned, not quite understanding what his father meant by that, but Vegeta nodded towards the desk of food behind him. "Now I don't know about you, but I don't care for cold food."
"Oh, right." Trunks turned back to the food behind him.
He quickly sat down next to Vegeta again, pulling the table back to them. They both went back to their meal, eating quietly even as the sound of laughter from downstairs reached them, but Vegeta's mind was elsewhere. Between his son and his wife, he certainly had his hands full. Not that he was surprised. The woman had a temper that could match his own, and they had both passed their fire down to their son. Still, he wished they had let him get some sleep before engaging him in these exhausting conversations.
Trunks looked up when Bulma opened the door. She looked them both over, and addressed her son directly.
"Hey Trunks, just wanted to tell you that everyone's starting a Wii tournament downstairs, if you want to come down and play when you're done."
"Oh yeah! Definitely," Trunks eagerly agreed with a grin. Bulma shifted her gaze to her husband, but he kept his eyes on his food. He had yet to even acknowledge her presence. She pursed her lips angrily, and then walked back out, closing the door behind her and barely resisting the urge to slam it. Trunks looked at the door for a bit, and then looked over at Vegeta. "She's mad at you, huh?" he knowingly asked. His father shrugged with indifference, but Trunks was undeterred. "Is it about what you guys were arguing about?"
"The discussions I have with your mother are none of your business."
"I know, but, well…you should tell her you're sorry, otherwise she'll kick you out of your room again."
Vegeta glared at him. "Your mother's never kicked me out. I sometimes choose to sleep elsewhere."
"Oh, okay," Trunks easily agreed, keeping to himself the fact that he heard Bulma loudly telling Vegeta to get out of their room every few months or so. It was clockwork; they would fight, she would kick him out, and by the next night, the prince was back in their bedroom, and the couple would do their "private training" together that always made his father's ki fluctuate so rhythmically (though Trunks didn't understand why he was never invited to those training sessions).
"Well, you should talk to her anyways," Trunks continued. "Maybe if you guys tried not yelling, it wouldn't be so bad."
"You think so?"
"Yeah, cause both of you suck at listening when you're yelling."
"Watch your mouth, boy," Vegeta warned.
"Alriiiight, I'm just saying."
"Eat more, say less."
Meanwhile, Bulma was downstairs with everyone else, and was currently in a boxing fight with Gohan on the Wii. And she was losing. Growling, she exclaimed, "Ugh, this isn't fair! I need to play a human I match up with…Yamcha, get up here and fight me."
"I don't know if I should be flattered or offended," Yamcha joked while everyone laughed.
"Oooh, I want to play against Gohan!" Goten eagerly shouted, raising his hand up like he was in school. "Can I play, please, please-"
"Sure thing! Good luck," Bulma said, laughing as she tossed Goten the remote.
"I play winner!" Trunks announced as he charged down the stairs. He leapt over the rail and ran over to see better. Coming down behind him was Vegeta, though the prince's pace was leisurely compared to his son's. Bulma was genuinely surprised at the sight of him. She thought for sure that he would keep to himself, but was pleased that he was there, even if she was still mad at him.
"Hey, Vegeta," Goku jokingly called out to the prince, drawing Vegeta's attention. "Is this boxing game your training secret?"
"Figured me out, Kakarot," Vegeta deadpanned. He scanned everyone over, and then settled his gaze on Bulma. He subtly motioned for her to follow him, and then walked over to the front door, leaving the compound altogether. He waited outside by himself for a while, but finally, Bulma came out of the door too.
"I don't want to fight with you right now, Vegeta," she bluntly told him. "So if that's all you wanted-"
"I don't want to fight with you either," the prince admitted, and for the first time, she heard how tired he was. "I've had enough battles to last me a long time."
Bulma nodded slowly, and they fell into an awkward silence. They were only a few feet apart, but it certainly didn't feel like that.
"You want to get out of here?" Vegeta suddenly asked. Bulma looked at him in surprise, clearly not expecting that, but then she shook her head.
"No, we have company."
"They'll get along fine without us for a while. Some of those fools have good hearing and are too nosy for their own good anyways."
He then extended his hand towards her, and waited. Bulma hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder towards the compound. She turned back to her husband, and then reached out to take his hand. Vegeta grasped her hand, gently pulling her closer to him until they were right against each other, her chest against his. Bulma put her arms around his neck to grab on, and he put one arm securely around her. He bent his knees a little, and then they both shot up into the air.
When Vegeta's speed finally settled down, and she was certain that she was standing on firm ground, Bulma looked around, her hands lowering to his shoulders. When she saw where they were, she instantly grabbed two tight fistfuls of Vegeta's shirt, pulling herself as close to him as possible.
"Holy crap, Vegeta!" she breathed, worriedly looking down. They were on a ledge of rock on an enormous mountain, and less than a yard away from her was a dropoff that meant certain death. "We're so high up!"
"I usually go up higher. But this is a comfortable height for you. It's safe," Vegeta assured her, though the sensation of her being so close to him wasn't unwelcomed in the least. He frowned as she disengaged from him, her fear giving way to curiosity. When she finally stopped analyzing just how high they were and looked up, her breath caught in her throat.
"Wow," Bulma whispered, taking in the scenery of the mountain range they were in, illuminated by the sunset. "It's gorgeous here."
"It's better when you're higher," Vegeta quietly said, glancing up towards the top of the mountain and remembering the first time he'd visited this mountain, before Trunks was born. How long he had agonized over leaving Earth for good and letting the androids wreck the planet. If he would've had the ability back then to glimpse the future…
He had visited this exact place frequently after Cell's defeat. It calmed him, helped him clear his mind. He hoped that would be the case again tonight. Looking back at her profile, Vegeta waited for her to say something, or to look at him. She was either thoroughly enjoying the view, or ignoring him. Maybe a little of both. His son had been right. Letting her dwell inside her own thoughts would have been his worst course of action. It was best they clear the air now, with no yelling. Hopefully.
"You're still angry with me."
Bulma looked back at him, and he saw the hurt in her clear blue eyes again, plain as day. He fought the urge to look away. "I know everything worked out in the end, but…"
"I know." Vegeta swallowed, as though swallowing down his pride. "I did…what I thought I needed to do. But I was wrong. I should have never… It will never happen again. I'm sorry."
It was his first time genuinely saying those words to her, and it instantly soothed away that sting of betrayal and hurt she felt. That was what she needed to know the most; that he regretted his choice. That their years together mattered to him. Bulma studied his eyes for a bit, and then reached for his hand. Vegeta stepped up and took it, looking relieved.
"I'm sorry too," she conceded, interlacing their fingers together. "I shouldn't have come at you like that either."
He shrugged. "It's fine."
"I've just been a little, I don't know. Not fully rational when it comes to you lately, I guess. I…felt when you died," Bulma admitted with difficulty, earning a surprised look from him.
"What do you mean?" Vegeta asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Felt it? How?"
"I don't know. I can't explain it," Bulma sighed, struggling to describe that moment. "Just this feeling I had. I knew it was you, and I knew it was bad. But I ignored it, you know…but then I found out from Goku, and…" Bulma's voice wavered, but it quickly steadied when she suddenly punched him square in the chest with her free hand, as hard as she could possibly manage. Vegeta didn't move a millimeter, but his eyes widened in surprise. "You can't do that to me ever again! You're going to die a little, wrinkled old man, you hear me?"
"I'm not the one here that's in danger of getting wrinkles, female. Look, I already see some here," Vegeta teased, brushing his thumb under her eye before her tears could fall. "Perhaps there was some kind of bond formed between us after all, that I wasn't aware of…though there's no reason to shed tears over it. I certainly didn't cry when I found out you died."
"Oh, shut up," Bulma sniffed, shaking her throbbing hand. "It's just my damn hand that hurts. It's like you're carved out of stone, holy crap."
"Your own damn fault. No one told you to punch me," he scoffed.
"Always such a caring husband," she sighed, though that hurt was gone now from her eyes. She even offered him a small smile, but Vegeta was scowling as he contemplated her words. He knew that she was joking, but she surely hadn't been joking earlier when she asked if he cared. That question probably wouldn't have bothered him before all this went down with Buu, but it had earlier. And thinking about it now bothered him too. He watched her while she studied her knuckles for bruises.
"It was for you, just so you know," he finally confessed, his expression serious when Bulma looked back up at him in surprise.
"Using that self-destruct technique against Buu. It didn't work, since the freak still lived. But I did it for you and Trunks, and I would do it again if I had to. Isn't that proof enough for you, of how much I care…of how much I…" His voice failed him.
"I know. I love you, too," she whispered, before leaning in to kiss him.
Vegeta eagerly responded by pulling her up against him, enjoying the feel of her hands, the sweetness of her kiss, the softness of her body. His hellish ordeal finally seemed worth it, not because Earth was intact and saved; but rather, because Bulma was alive and with him, and so was Trunks. They were worth dying for a thousand times if need be.
Bulma grabbed onto his shoulders tightly as his hand slowly crept up her inner thigh, brushing her dress up, feeling like it was leaving fire behind. He broke their kiss and moved down to her jaw, then her neck. All the while, his words repeated themselves over and over again in her mind. She had thought his self-destruction was only a battle strategy, the best thing he could come up with to take down Buu, and that his family had been the furthest thing from his mind at the time. But to know that he was willing to literally go to hell and back for her and their son…the same man who had once rejected Trunks, rejected her…there were no words for it. Fortunately, they didn't need words.
"Vegeta," she groaned a little when her husband bit down on her ear while his hand teased her. "The get-together…" she breathed, even though her fingers were already unbuttoning his shirt.
"The party's moved to Kakarot's residence, it seems," Vegeta growled in her ear as she spread his shirt open, her hands running over his hot skin. "They're all heading that way, Trunks too. We'll get the boy afterwards."
"Well, in that case…maybe we can get a little private training in," Bulma teased.
Vegeta smirked a little and then lifted her up against him, hiking up her red dress while he did so she could wrap her legs around him. He turned them around and pressed her up against a wall of rock, undoing his pants at the same time. Moments later, and they were making love where only the stars could see.
Being alive again didn't get much better than this.