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To Protect Us

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“Mother, why aren’t you angry with him?” Her adult son asked, a troubled look on the face that looked so much like Vegeta.

“At who?” She replied, looking up from where she was gently placing baby Trunks in his crib.

Her hands move to her hips and a fierce expression takes over her face, “Your father? I’m more angry at my closest friends not jumping in to do anything!”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair, then gesturing Trunks to follow her into the living room. Bulma sits down on one of the plush couches and pats the spot next to her.

Once he sat, she began the attempt to explain the complex being that was Vegeta.

“Trunks, your father is.... complicated. Him not jumping in to save us, in his mind, was the best action he could have taken.”

“What?” Trunks cried with disbelief. “That makes no sense!”

“Vegeta was basically raised in slavery; under Frieza’s thumb. He was taught that if you showed any sign of weakness, it was used against you. So he learned to protect what little he had. As hard as it is, I understand his actions. He loves us, no matter how he might act in front of others,I promise you that.”

Bulma placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Do you understand?”

“You’re trying to tell me that he cares so much about us, that he did nothing? From what I understand about him, Mother, I think you are trying to find good in him when there is none.”

Suddenly, a growl emanated from the back of the room, making both the Briefs jump slightly, as Vegeta stalked fully into view. He was tired of waiting for this inane discussion to be over.

“Leave, boy!” His father barked.

Trunks shot his mother a look as he stood and quickly left the room.

——————————

As soon as their son had gone far enough away that Vegeta knew his half-Saiyan senses couldn’t hear the happenings of room, he made his way to his mate. He quickly pulled her up, and gently inspected her body.

“You are unhurt?”

She nodded.

“And the boy?”

Another nod.

At this, he pulled her into an embrace, burying his face into Bulma’s hair— something her would never let anyone, not even his son, see.

He loved his woman, and their child, with all of his being. But that fact terrified him more than anything he had ever experienced before.

Bulma smiled into his embrace, feeling safe once again.