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Saturdays were meant for sleeping in, and yet Trunks was worriedly shaking her arm long before noon.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she yawned.
“Dad is acting weird.”
Bulma groaned. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “What has he done now?
Trunks frowned, eyes nervously flicking toward the door. “Uh.”
This couldn’t be good. He better not have blown anything up. Or killed anyone. She rolled out of bed.
“I’ll be there in a minute. Tell him not to do anything stupid, would you?”
He nodded and dashed from the room. Somewhere in there, there was a joke about a grade schooler doing damage control, but she was too tired to put it together. She dug out a robe and threw it on.
When she got to the kitchen, Trunks intercepted her. “Dad says you can’t come outside yet!”
“…why not?”
“Dunno. Something about a surprise.”
Now that was out of character. A surprise. She wasn’t sure what that meant when it came to Vegeta.
“Well,” she sighed, “Then mommy is going to make some coffee.”
And pray he wasn’t making a mess of something.
After twenty minutes of brewing coffee, stirring it aimlessly, and going back for another cup, she got fed up with waiting. Ignoring Trunk’s harried protests, she all but kicked the front door down.
“Holy hell.”
There where half a dozen broken, bloody, enormous bodies of… some vicious looking monster that she’d never seen before. They were laid out in a neat row on the grass, staining it dark, and she hoped to god they were dead. Though that begged the question as to why there where deceased creatures being used as lawn decorations. Vegeta was dragging another one into place.
“Is this the surprise?” she asked dubiously.
“You were supposed to wait inside,” he scowled, “And yes.”
“Ah. Dead things. My favorite.”
“I’m not done yet,” he huffed as he threw the last corpse into place. She eyed him, covered in blood and gore, and probably other things she didn’t want to know about. He was at least seven showers away from their bed.
“Are you done now?”
“Yes,” Arms crossed, face unreadable, “These are for you.”
She was going to need a caffeine IV to get through this trial. Vegeta had lost it, completely and utterly.
“How charming,” she deadpanned, making to chug the rest of her coffee, “Is this some sort of saiyan mating ritual?”
“Yes.”
She choked. She sputtered. She had been joking, and she pretty sure he wasn’t. Trunks wanted to know if she was going to be okay; she honestly couldn’t answer that one.
“You’re… you’re serious.”
“Yes,” he sounded annoyed, “I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble if I wasn’t.”
She looked at the bodies. She looked back at him. She stayed silent for longer than any of them would have liked.
“You don’t have to accept,” He glowered, “Traditionally, I’d have to go back out at least three more times to win your hand—“
She dropped her cup. Trunks caught it, bless him and his half-alien reflexes.
“Are you telling me this is your way of proposing?”
“For the last time, yes,” he was flustered and desperately trying to hide it. It was kinda cute. “Haven’t you been listening—“
Bulma started giggling. And she couldn’t stop, even when he started sulking and their child began voicing concerns over the situation. As long as she had lived, as long as she had lived with him, she’d never expected this. Hoped, maybe. Fantasized on a rainy day. But never did she think it would actually happen.
She’d never pushed the subject. She’d understood, deep down, that he cared, and that was enough for her. She didn’t need a ring or a ceremony to know that. But this was just too much.
“I’m glad you find it so amusing—“
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she tried to catch her breath, “I just need a minute.”
Vegeta was sulking. She was giddy, but managed to pull her composure together.
“I love you too, you moron,” As if she was one to talk, grinning like an idiot, “Now get this shit off my lawn.”