Hey there! ^^ This is my first Bulma/Vegeta "fic", so please don't be too harsh on me. It's a two-shot and I'm working on the second part, but until I finish it, enjoy the first part! Hope you like it! :3


Pairing: Bulma/Vegeta

Setting: Somewhere during the end of DBZ-DBGT (Sorry. Since it's not a multi-chap story, I didn't wrack my brain too much with that...)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used here; Akira Toriyama does.

It was simply ridiculous.

There was no way in HEffL that he, the Prince of all Saiyans, was ever going to reduce himself to play some stupid earthling game. It wasn't even physical, it required 'brain power' to win.

"It's fun, Vegeta!" Capsule Corp.'s President had said. "It'll be over before you know it!"

"Then why should I even part-take in this obnoxious gathering called 'Family Game Night'?" he retorted with distaste.

"Because, dad," started his sixteen year-old son who was currently siting cross-legged in the enormous fur rug, grasping a tiny pink tea-cup (filled with apple juice) in between his index finger and thumb, pinky finger raised. "If I have to play tea party with Bra, so do you."

This one, balled her cute little hands in tiny fists and glared at her purple-haired brother. "You said you liked playing tea-party!"

Trunks almost choked on his apple juice while he blushed. Breath gasping, he glared back at the chibi carbon copy of his mother. "I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did NOT!"


"SILENCE!" Vegeta yelled, his ki rising a bit as the vein on his forehead throbbed continuously.

Everybody stood quiet. Bulma sipped her coffee quietly as she looked in interest at her family. Slowly, Bra stepped up in front of her father with huge puppy-dog eyes.


He sighed. "Yes, Princess?"

"Can you stay and play with us? You don't have to play tea party. Just don't go, please?" she batted her eyelashes sweetly.

The prideful Saiyan knew he shouldn't look, he knew he was going to cave when he saw those big, beautiful cerulean eyes.

'My God, man!' he thought. 'You're a warrior, a KING, even! You aren't going to do these absurd earth customs. Be strong. You're tough, you're proud, you're...'

"Alright, Princess."

'...a no-good, stinkin' pussy!'

Vegeta groaned. After that, they had been stuck (in his point of view)- he looked at the clock, proudly hanging on the light yellow wall- 40 minutes! Fourty god-forsaken MINUTES! Precious time that, Kami knew, could be better spent training and getting stronger than that blasted idiot, Kakkarot.

He smirked as he pictured himself beating the crap out of that low-class moron.

He cast a longing glance at the Gravity Room and huffed. The Onna had disabled the training robots, having planned ahead of time for his misery.

'Speaking about the Onna...' he glanced from the corner of his eye. At the small table, he could clearly see Bulma and Trunks in deep concentration, playing some sort of game.

He saw his son, sweat sliding from the side of his face as he reached for something in front of him. His four year-old daughter waiting expectantly for the next move. Finally, the woman. Her short blue hair hanging down to just below her ears, as usual, one of her eyebrows raised, her eyes-those amazing cerulean orbs- looking almost tauntingly at their oldest brat, her red, ruby lips, pursed in concentraion and interest.

Suddenly, she looked up and caught his stare. She smiled and winked playfully, bringing that wretched sensation of the 'butterflies' into his stomach and a slight red hue to his face.

Grumbling something about 'Bewitching wenches', Vegeta faced the television and tried to drown out the sound of his family by turning the volume of his program up. What was it called anyway?

From the tv came: "I'll be back."

Ah, who cares. There was enough violence. Of course, it wasn't so realistic to him and he could point all sors of flaws, but anything to get him out of the stupid gathering.

"Hey, Vegeta, wanna play a game?"

The Saiyan looked at his mate. "What?"

Sighing, Bulma said. "A game. You know, one of the things we do on family game nights?" she smirked. "C'mon, I promise I won't let you win on purpose."

"Hmph. How are you so sure you'll win, Onna?" he growled, annoyed.

"So... Is that a yes?"

Vegeta sat down on the chair that was formerly occupied by Trunks. The demi-saiyan was swearing under his breath, having just been hilariously beaten by his mother at the table game.

Vegeta looked at the small, actually more than small, briefcase-like container in front of him. "What in the world is this crap?"

"Daddy, what's 'crap'?" Bra asked.

"Bra, don't repeat that." Bulma said sternly.

"Why?" the little girl asked and looked at her father for an answer.

"Um..." he muttered. "It's something your mother will talk to you about when you grow up."

"Oh. Is it something bad?"


"Like what?"

"Sex." Trunks said, not even paying attention. When he saw his mother's glare, his little sister's confused face, and his father's 'You are DEAD' look, he got nervous, then blushed, then white as a sheet. "D-Did I say that out loud?"

Bra looked in between her parents and her brother. "What's that?"

"Nothing, sweetie." Bulma recovered quickly. "Your brother's just in trouble."

"A lot." Vegeta added.

Trunks regained some of the color in his face and with a nervous chuckle, said. "S-So, what about the-the game, eh?"

Bulma faced Vegeta and smirked. Remembering his previous question, she responded. "This game is called Battleship," well, that intrigued him. "As you can see when you open this little case, you have five ships, as do I. You and I will place the ships wherever we want to and neither you or I will know where the other's ships are located. The object of the game is to sink each other's ships by guessing and clueing the coordinates of where the opponent's ships are. First one to sink the other's five ships, wins. Easy, right?"

"Sounds simple enough."

"For your brain to handle..." she mumbled, hiding a smirk behind her coffee mug, bringing the bittersweet liquid to her lips.

While Bulma drank, Vegeta growled. "What was that?"

"Nothing. Now, let's play!" she smiled.

Of course she knew he had heard her, he was sure of it. Her sneaky smile was more than enough proof of that. No matter, he'd win and pummel her in her own game. 'Just you wait, Onna...' he thought as he smirked.




Sigh. "...Hit."


Vegeta covered his ears as his mate jumped about, his Saiyan hearing was too acute.

"I win, Vegeta! I just deliberately BEAT you! Haha!" Bulma did all but gloat, getting on the nerves of a certain Saiyan No-Ouji.

"That's sad, Dad. To think I lasted more than you..."

"Better luck next time, Daddy."

He couldn't believe it. His kids, no-BRATS! Were pitying him? Not in this universe, they're not.

"Rematch, now."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Vegeta, it's late. Maybe some other time."

"No. Now."

The blue-haired woman glared at him. "Bra has school tomorrow, she has to get up early! C'mon, Bra, up to bed."

"Aw, mommy..."

"I think I'll turn in now, too, mom. Gotta get to work even earlier tomorrow." Trunks groaned.

"That's right. You better haul your butt up to the office tomorrow and be on time! I don't want you to miss that meeting."

"Oh! The meeting's tomorrow? See, I can't go because-"

Bulma glared.

Trunks gulped. "I'll be there." with that, the two demi-saiyans went up the stairs and into their rooms.

Bulma sighed and turned around. Her husband was still in the chair, glaring and tapping his foot at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I told you: I want a rematch."

The President put her hands on her hips and glared back. "Well, you can't always get what you want! I'm going to bed. Goodnight." she turned around and proceeded to stomp her way up to their room.

Vegeta stood still for a moment. Then, he smirked. "Alright then, Onna. Of course... This means war."

And that's the firts part... What do you think? Good? Bad? Constructive criticism is welcomed! :)