A/N: I've been writing too many serious fic lately, so I thought I'll write something different. Fair warning, there will be OOCness in this fic. And please do not take this fic seriously.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ...

The Perfect Husband


Vegeta counted in his head as he dipped toward the floor, one finger supporting the entire weight of his body. Seven hundred times Earth's gravity, the most he had ever attempted. He pushed from the floor, the effort constricting his muscles into a tight band. He switched to the other arm and finger.


"Can you belieeve him?" Bulma slurred as she raised the glass for another drink. When she sipped, the red liquid missed her mouth and splashed on her face. "Opps!" she giggled. As the hand approached her face, it multiplied into three, maybe even four. How did this fiend enter her house! Especially when there was an even bigger monster protecting this place!

Someone beside her was laughing, but all she heard was buzzing sounds. She shook her head. Oh, bad move...her brain crashed against her skull and the world around her shook violently.

"Buulma!" a voice screamed. Her eardrums could not take it. "Whaat d giive me?" Chi Chi stammered, followed by a hiccup, a giggle ,and a laugh. She couldn't understand a word spewing from her mouth.

"Wheere's Goooju?"

Oh ywah. Their husbands. Those losers who did nothing but train, train, train. She'd show them. She'd show them. "Chi Chi! Let's go to the basement!" Bulma screamed, forgetting her friend was next to her. Her five-headed red face friend cringed, covering her ear. Bulma popped up to a standing position. Ohhh...the floor was moving. There was an earthquake! Oh no! To the basement! Wait...why did she want to go to the basement again?

"Bulma, der's five of you."

Bulma couldn't even see Chi Chi anymore, so she followed the voice. Yes! Follow the voice! She fumbled for her friend's hand. It was there, she swore it was there. She tried again. Finally, she grabbed something solid.

"To the basement, Chi Chi!" Bulma exclaimed, waving one hand in the air as if ready for battle while the other one dragged Chi Chi along.

They wobbled and giggled throughout her house, walking into walls and stumbled into closets. They made it at last. There were treasures in here. Treasures she had kept for days such as this.

"Bulma? Wat awr you dwing?" her blurred friend asked.

Pressing her finger against her lips, she hushed her friend. "We're-" Bulma sneaked a peek here and there, making sure there were no monsters. "making a wish..." she finished her sentence in a low whisper.


"For a perfect husband," Bulma cackled.

"Oh..." Chi Chi joined in and chuckled.



Shrenlon! Please grant me your wish!


We wish to have the perfect husband!


His body slammed to the floor. What's the meaning of this! His body pushed itself off the floor and stood up. His legs moved toward the exit. He was definitely not controlling it because he didn't tell it to leave this goddamn room. "Bulma?" he heard himself say in a gentle voice. Him, the prince of all Saiyans, should not sound like a wuss! What's the matter with him?

He stepped out and looked down the hall. One part of him wanted to run to his woman and tell her how much he adored her. Adored? Such word does not exist in the prince's vocabulary. No way in hell was he going to tell that woman such thing!

He strolled down the hall and exited into the front lawn where he saw two women, one of them his wife and the other the crazy mate of Kakarott, holding hands and spinning around the lawn. He smelled alcohol. The damn woman was drunk! He growled. Wait. He didn't physically growled. Instead, he moved across the lawn to where the women was still spinning.

The two women let go of each other's hands. Not a good move, woman. He sneered. Of course, outwardly, he did no such thing. Because of the momentum of the swing, the two women flew across the lawn on opposite side, one ready to crash an oversized tree and the other into devil knows where. He sped toward Bulma and caught her in midair, wrapping his arm around her waist before turning to that damn idiot's mate to save her the embarrassment of landing into the tree. He gently let go of the harpy. Gently?

"Oh, Vegeta!" His drunk wife cried out as she swung her arms around his neck. He swooped her off the floor and said, "Careful, Bulma."

"See, Bulma? Veta is nice."

If only he could roll his eyes.


Was that concern in his voice? What was happening to him? Why was he acting so strange? Better yet, why the hell was his body not doing as he commanded. "It's time for bed," he said in a soft voice. Obviously, whoever was in command of his body did not care when he disgustingly displayed affections in front of others.


Kill that harpy now!

"I'll put you to bed and I'll take her home," he said instead.

The world just ended.

Bulma felt like hell. The drilling noise in her head refused to stop. She couldn't even move without getting hit by waves and waves of nausea. Oh Dende, just kill me!

Someone brushed her hair aside and flattened a damp cloth against her forehead.

"You okay, Bulma?"

It must be noon. Vegeta had never left that gravity room before noon. She groaned, wishing the world stopped spinning even behind closed eyes. This was the price she had to pay for a night of fun. She swallowed. "Ugh." The evidences of puke clogged her mouth.

"Water..." she croaked, cringing her face as she tasted the bitter grape residue.

A hand supported her back and gently lifted her to a sitting position. A glass touched her lips and water dripped into her mouth. All this time, she did not open her eyes. Wait a minute here...She forgot something really important.

With the water hydrating her body, the pounding eased. The hand gently lowered her onto the bed and replaced the damp cloth on her forehead.

"Rest. I'll make sure Bra gets ready for school."

That was definitely Vegeta's voice. Did he volunteer to get Bra ready for school? Despite her spinning world, Bulma's eyes popped open. Standing in front of the door was Vegeta, dressed in his normal attire, a pair of light gym pants and a fitted tank top. He left the room before she could call him.

At first, she thought she was dreaming, but the loud relentless drumming in her head told her she was very much awake. Vegeta would never volunteer for anything that had nothing to do with training. Did he finally feel sorry for her, seeing her in this pitiful state? No. She had hangover before and he had never given a damn.

"Dad! That's gross! You can't do my hair! That's mom's job!"

What the hell was Vegeta doing? Why was he acting so strange? Did something happen last night? Bulma tried hard to remember every details. Her memories were fuzzy. She remembered laughing. Nothing new. She did it all the time when she had a little too much to drink. She remembered sneaking around the house looking for something. Scowling, she dragged her body off the bed and headed to her twelve-years-old daughter's room.

"If you don't get ready, you'll be late for school. Now give me the comb, Bra. I can brush it as well as your mother," the voice that sounded like Vegeta said. That was not her husband. Someone took over her husband's body! She needed to call Goku. He'd know what to do. Wait, she got the dragon balls in the basement, which was saved in the room in case of emergency.

Dragon balls...oh my Dende!

Bulma slapped her head and groaned. She found her missing memory. What did they wish for? Chi Chi had been whining about Goku, how he never came home after training with Uub while she had been cursing at Vegeta for always training in the gravity room. He lived under the same roof and yet, she only saw him during the dark hours of the night. Both women were married with living husbands, but they might as well be widows. Even now, her blood boiled thinking about it. No wonder she drank so much last night.

What did they wish for?

Her eyes widened and shock appeared on her face. Perfect husband! Did her wish come true? It must have. Vegeta would not have behaved as he did on his own accord.

"But Daaad! This is just too weird! You never did this before and even Pan's dad will not help her with this!"

Peeping in the room, she saw Bra in her school uniform with her long, waist length, blue hair still uncombed. Normally, she loved to tie her daughter's hair in different styles, braided, pony-tailed, and any styles she could think of. It was not like Bra couldn't do it herself. It was just some mother and daughter's bonding time. To see Vegeta actually wanted to comb their daughter's hair had left her speechless.

What had she done?

This was too much for her poor head to comprehend. Vegeta? Trying to style Bra's hair? Suddenly, she had an urge to laugh.


"Bulma, what are you doing out of bed? Rest some more, I can take care of this," Vegeta said as he backed away from their fearful daughter and walked toward her. Once he reached her, he placed a hand on her shoulder and looked in her eyes. Frowning, he said, "You don't look too well. Let me get you cleaned up before getting Bra ready for school." There was genuine concern in his voice.

Dumbfounded, she did not know how to respond, allowing him to lead her down the hall.

"I don't need Dad to get me ready!"

This was her perfect husband? Grinning, she began to think of all the things she had dreamt of making Vegeta do but couldn't because the stubborn prince was too proud. This is going to be fun!

Blasphemy! Was this someone's idea of a joke? To twist the Saiyan's prince into some mindless doll, a slave to the despicable human woman and half Saiyan brat?


It was his woman again, calling him every damn second to get her this and that.

"I need a pedicure, Vegeta!"

Oh, hell no! Those things they called pedicure was the world's most idiotic obsession these female beings had. No way he, the Saiyan's prince, would stoop so low as to wash, clip, paint anyone's feet, even if that person was his wife.

"Bulma, I don't mind giving you a pedicure, but don't we have a dinner reservation in half an hour?"

Yes, you do mind! You mindless son of a...!

"You're so right, Vegeta! But you can fly us there, right? So we have time for a quick pedicure," she pouted as she wiggled her damn ugly toes. "After, we can go have a nice dinner by the harbor, right, Vegeta?"

This was not good. His reputation was on the line and if he was seen in public in this sad state, he would not be able to live this down for the rest of his life.

The phone rang, saving him from giving that wretched woman the pedicure she wanted.


I'm going to kill her. Once I know how to get out of this mess, she'll regret ever making a fool out of me!

"I'll get it, Bulma. Just a second," he said, his body heading to the side table where the phone was located.

Do not say something stupid!

"Hi, this is Brief's residence, who's this?" This must stop. "Oh hi, Chi Chi," he said in an unusual calm voice. He called that crazy woman by the name and greeted her civilly. This was not good. His reputation was incinerated into unsalvageable ashes.

"Bulma, this is for you," he said as he handed her the phone. The woman sat on her behind with her legs crossed, enjoying the show. Damn that wretched, evil woman!

She took the phone, giggling and whispering to that crazy harpy. Oh, she thought his hollow body without a mind and soul did not understand her, but he did.

"Goku, too? He came back? Awww...Chi Chi, our wish finally came true," she said, her fingers twirling her dyed blue hair. "Vegeta is a sweetheart," she paused and nodded. "Yeah, we're going out to dinner. Can you believe it? When was the last time we ever went out for dinner? Never!" she said as she peeked at him and then turned her body around when she found him watching her. Not glaring, though he wished he had the ability to. In a low whisper that she thought his keen's hearing could not pick up, she said, "Gotta give it to that Shenron. This is the perfect wish."

So they made a wish? Stupid, crazy women with nothing better to do then to turn their husbands into some mindless slave. So they think it's funny to mess with Saiyans? Well, he'll show them!

Suddenly an idea popped in his head. If she wants a perfect husband, then she shall have one!


"What now, Bra?" Bulma groaned. For the past two weeks, life had been everything but good. She had thought having Vegeta at her disposal, listening to her every whim, be with her when she needed him, was life made in heaven. She was having doubts, serious doubts.

"Daddy cleaned my room! AGAIN!" shouted Bra as she stomped down the stairs, into the living room. She stood beside the sofa with one hand on her hip and her cheeks puffed.

Bulma hid her face in her palm and sighed. It was Sunday and it should be peaceful and quiet, time for relaxing, read a book. She pushed herself off the sofa again. "Where's your father?"

"Cleaning Trunks' room," Bra growled, looking like her father, well, her father before this incident.

Bulma groaned again. It seemed like she had been groaning a lot lately. Trunks was dorming at the university, studying for his graduates' degree. He hadn't been home so knew nothing about his father's conversion. Bulma was not looking forward to see her son's face when he returned, especially when she had an idea what Vegeta was currently doing to their son's room.

"I'll take care of this," Bulma said as she treaded to the staircase.

"Mom! I want my father back!" shouted Bra from behind.

So do I.

When she reached the top step, she took a left, passing Bra's room. She peeped inside and sure enough, it was empty. This was Vegeta's definition of cleaning.

Sighing, she took small strides toward Trunks' room, not particularly thrilled to confront Vegeta. She didn't really want to see him now. She had thought that after she gave him a task to keep him busy, he wouldn't stick around her every seconds of the day. A perfect husband indeed. Perfect to the extreme! She heard banging and pounding and then a loud crashing and crushing noise escaped Trunks' room.

Finally there. She looked inside. Vegeta was in the middle of disassembling Trunks' king-size bed. He ripped the headboard apart and threw it out the window. Every movement he made showcased all the lovely muscles on his bare upper body, looking damn sexy. She growled at herself. This was not the time to admire Vegeta's sexy body. Puffing in a breath of air, she entered the room.

"Vegeta, what do you think you're doing?"

"Bulma! Are you done with your reading?" Vegeta asked excitingly as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"No!" Bulma quickly responded.

All of Vegeta's alluring physical attractiveness gone as he opened his damn mouth. She missed his gruff and low voice. She missed his arrogant and 'I don't give a shit' attitude. She even missed his trademark grunt. Sure, she had her fun the first two days, making him do all the things he would have refused to do, like cleaned her feet, brought her shopping, kissing and cuddling in public, but those got old pretty fast.

"Too bad. I thought we can spend some quality time together," he said, shrugging and then returned to his work on destroying Trunks' room.

"Vegeta, can you stop destroying our kids' room? We have a very angry daughter ready to blow up the house." Bulma walked in with her arms folded across her chest, watching Vegeta closely.

"I'm not destroying. I'm cleaning," Vegeta said as he turned to her. His eyebrows stitched in confusion.

Bulma could not tell if he was genuinely confused or playing with her. Sometime she wondered if Vegeta was acting stupid.

"I thought you told me to find something productive to do."

"Yeah, like training!"

"Oh, Bulma, you know I quitted weeks ago. My family is my number one priority now," Vegeta smiled and winked, sending an icy chill down her spine, causing every fine hair to shoot upward.

Gosh! She wanted to strangle him. More than ever, she missed his smirk. She needed her Vegeta back! Vegeta was man among man! Saiyan among Saiyan! He was the prince. To see him smiled like Goku and winked at her? This was the last straw. Bra was right! This Vegeta had to go!

Stupid, human woman! No one dared mess with the Saiyan's prince and live to tell the tale!

Vegeta cackled as his wife's face twisted in anger. He was doing what all perfect husbands should do! Home improvement!

Sure, he hated his new persona, disgusted at the wuss he had become. He was not enjoying that he could not swear, growl or even argue back. He hated those beyond mushy words he had been spouting lately. Once they turned him back to normal, he'd make her pay dearly! And he guaranteed they'd be begging that scaly brainless dragon after he was done with them.

His soulless body picked up a hammer and pounded on the rooftop, making a sizable hole, causing dusts and debris to crumble into the house. He wished he could blow it up, but of course, he was restricted from using violence.

Cursing inwardly, he continued to 'fix' the hole on the roof.

"Will you stop that, Vegeta!" his very annoyed woman shouted from below. Her hands shielding the sun from bothering her eyes. Like hell he will!

He learned quick, always did. As long as it did not break the rules of being the perfect husband, he could will his body to act however he wanted. If the woman wanted a perfect husband, then he would make her wish come true and more. There were more ways than one that could make her life a living hell. He smirked inside.

"You wanted this roof fixed for a long time, Bulma. Now that I have the time, I thought I should fix it for you," he said innocently. Inside, he cringed.. No matter how many times, every times he opened his mouth, stupid words flew out.

"I told you I can hire someone, now get down here!"

He placed the hammer on the roof, levitated and landed on the ground. "I was trying to help."

"Vegeta, I swear. I swear you know exactly what you're doing!"

He flapped his eyes and tilted his head to the side, eyebrows stitched in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Forget it!"

His soulless body brightened and so did he. "Now that we have time, do you want a pedicure?"


He smirked inside. Of course she didn't! Not after he burned her with hot water and scraped off her skins until it turned raw.

"How about I cook you a nice lunch?"


He thought so. Not after he destroyed her kitchen when he threw a frozen bird into a burning deep fryer.

"How abou-"

"Ve-ge-ta," she said through gritted teeth. Bulma's eyes twitched uncontrollably. She threw her hand to the house and pointed at the door. "Go inside, take a left, sit on the sofa, read a book and do not move!"

Hmph. His body followed her order. But she couldn't keep an eye on him twenty-four hours a day. Soon, he would find something else to annoy her.

She followed him inside and went straight to the phone. A few seconds later, she released all her anger on the recipient, "Trunks! Get your butt back home! I give you an hour!" she ordered and slammed the phone. She whipped her head to him. He was doing as she said, sitting on the sofa, reading a book, whistling as if there was not a care in the world.

She glared at him. "I'm getting my Vegeta back!"

He smirked. Victory.

"Bulma! How could you? Goku went back to train with that kid!" Chi Chi screamed over the phone.

"I'm sorry, Chi Chi. I already told you. We made the wish together so we have to reverse it together," Bulma explained and sighed. Chi Chi had the better end of the bargain with her original wish. She didn't mind that Goku was with her day in and day out.

"But, Goku..."

Bulma strolled by the gravity room, stopping momentarily. The door opened and out came Vegeta. "Chi Chi, I'll talk to you later. I'll make it up to you, I promise." She hung up without hearing what her friend had to say.

She stared at Vegeta with a towel around his neck. He narrowed his eyes and returned her stare. "What are you looking at, woman!"

"Vegeta, kiss me!"

"Like hell I will!" He growled, pushing by her. "You must be crazy to think I will do such thing."

She threw her arms around his back, wrapping them around his body. "Welcome back, Vegeta!"

Welcome back indeed, he smirked. I'll get my revenge when you least expected it, woman!

A/N: I know, it's stupid, but who cares! ^_^

The End