Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and related characters are copyrighted by Bird Studios/Shueisha, Toei Animation. Licensed by FUNimation Productions, Inc. Do I really have to say this every time? Legal Guys: "Yes, you do."

Author's Lame Excuse: I know it's been eons since I posted last, but my homework's been horrendously time-consuming. I also have another fic that I thought I had finished, but I cannot get the last scene to work correctly so it's been sitting in a drawer—otherwise I probably would have posted that one a while ago. I'll try to get it up as soon as I can fix it. Now, enough with the excuses, on with the fanfiction!

Time Period: Before the Buu Saga. Trunks is 5 years old, Goten is 4, and Gohan is 13.

Author's Note: I don't know when and if the Earth's moon is ever restored, but for the sake of my story, please pretend it's there. J

Stubborn Love

"I have defeated the evil giant, Your Highness," Goten reported, kneeling at Trunks' feet.

"Wonderful!" Trunks exclaimed. "The kingdom is peaceful again. I knight you 'Sir Kakarot.'" He took a branch he had found and tapped Goten on the shoulder with it.

"Kakarot?" Goten asked in confusion. "Where did you get that name?"

Trunks shrugged. "My otousan says it all the time while he's training. I think it's someone very powerful. Otousan always says he wants to become stronger than it."

"Oh." Goten smiled. "I'm a really powerful knight! Sugoi!"

"Okay, Sir Kakarot," Trunks said gravely, going back into character. "A messenger just told me there is a flying demon that's attacking the villagers. You must stop it!"

Before Goten could accept his "mission," the two half-Saiyans suddenly felt an incoming ki and saw Gohan descend on the Flying Nimbus.

"Oniichan!" Goten cried happily. "Come play with us! We're playing 'King and Knight'!"

"Sorry," Gohan said, stopping the Nimbus a few feet about the ground. "Okaasan says you have to come home for dinner now."

"But 'Niichan . . ." Goten whined.

"Come on," Gohan said firmly. "If we don't get home soon, 'Kaasan will get angry."

Goten's mind was filled with the vision of the frightening demon his mother transformed into when she was angry. No one, not even "Sir Kakarot," could defeat that. "O-kay . . ." he said reluctantly.

"Besides," Gohan said, looking over at Trunks, "I'm sure Trunks has to go in for dinner too. Right?"

Trunks opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly felt a huge ki nearby. A glance at Gohan and Goten showed that they felt it too. The ki was massive but violently erratic; its owner was obviously going through an emotional upheaval, specifically one of rage.

"Whoa," Goten said in amazement, "is that your otousan?"

"Hai," Trunks replied reluctantly. There was an extremely vicious edge to the ki-in-question that bothered him. "I think he's fighting with Okaasan again."

Gohan noticed the worried look on Trunks' face. "Hey, don't worry. Our parents used to fight all the time, and I'm sure that they still would if our otousan was still alive. But that didn't mean that they didn't love each other because no matter how bad Otousan would screw up, Okaasan would always forgive him—"

"—and they'd kiss and make up!" Goten finished happily. He did not know this from first-hand experience, but Gohan had told him stories about what life had been like before Goku had sacrificed himself during the Cell Games.

"Kiss?" Trunks said doubtfully. He had never seen his parents kiss each other. "After they fight, Otousan usually sleeps on the couch or sometimes in the gravity room for a couple days."

Gohan inwardly sighed, but his cheerful expression did not change. "Still, don't worry. Your parents are good people, and I'm sure they love each other a lot. Remember that." The Flying Nimbus rose into the air. "Ja na!" the Son brothers said, waving. Trunks waved back, and they sped away. Trunks turned around and started walking back towards Capsule Corp's main building. As he got closer, he could hear his parents' shouting voices through the walls and winced. He forced himself to think about what Gohan had said and felt a little better. His parents were just arguing, that was all. Gohan had not sounded concerned about it—why should Trunks worry? His parents were just arguing—even Gohan's parents had done that—they were just arguing, they were good people, they loved each other a l—

Suddenly, Vegeta shouted something at the top of his lungs and his ki exploded to Super Saiyan level. The explosive sound of glass shattering immediately followed. Trunks froze, eyes wide in fear. A sickening feeling of nausea rose up inside him. The next moment, the back door slammed open and Vegeta, Super Saiyan and literally blazing with fury, stormed out and flew away. Trunks watched his father's flaming aura disappear in the distance, then ran into Capsule Corp. Trunks knew they had been fighting in the kitchen, but Bulma was not there. The broken remains of drinking glasses lay on the ground by the wall. A few pictures on the walls were askew, and a dishrag lay on the floor. He looked around and heard his mother's angry muttering coming from her laboratory. He peeked in the doorway and saw her aggressively repairing a robot. Cautiously, he entered.

"Okaasan?" he asked.

Bulma stopped her vigorous treatment of the robot and looked over her shoulder at him. "Oh, hi honey." She smiled somewhat cheerfully. "Did you have fun playing with Goten?"

Trunks looked uncomfortable. "Uh, hai." He paused a bit. "Were you and Otousan fighting again?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed at the memory and she returned to fixing the robot. "Hai. That stupid baka can't get it through his thick skull that being the prince of a destroyed world means squat on Earth." She looked back at Trunks, her expression hard. "I have some advice for you: never marry royalty that's in name only. They're even more pompous than regular royalty because they don't have anything to rule, and you're just asking to get looked down at." She put her wrench down hard and picked up a screwdriver. "And the only reason he's the strongest fighter in the universe is because Goku's dead. I don't know about you, but that's no big accomplishment in my book."

Trunks listened to his mother's ranting with worry. He thought back to Vegeta turning Super Saiyan and the sound of glass shattering, then seeing the glass on the floor in the kitchen afterwards. Vegeta had been angry enough to kill; Trunks had felt it in his ki and saw it in his eyes. Bulma seemed fine, but . . .

"Did Otousan hurt you?" Trunks asked.

Bulma froze in shock and looked at Trunks. The half-Saiyan stared at her, his large blue eyes sad and worried. Bulma felt a flood of guilt wash over her. She wanted to ask him where in the world he had gotten that idea, but she knew. Trunks had been on the property; he had undoubtedly felt her and Vegeta's kis fluctuating. He had probably overheard them all the times in the past too when they had argued. They never cared where they were or who might be around when they started fighting—if they got fired up, nothing could stop them. Hell, they had even argued while Bulma had held Trunks as a baby. Granted, at the time everyone had been stressed because of the android threat, but it was still another example of Trunks' continuing exposure to their disputes. Now, at the innocent age of five, Trunks already lived with the fear of their arguments getting out of hand and becoming physically violent.

"No, Trunks-chan, he would never hurt me," Bulma said, putting the screwdriver back down. "I was waving my arms around and I accidentally knocked those glasses on the floor. Is that what you were worried about?"

"Hai," Trunks replied, sniffling. Bulma took him in her arms and held him against her as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said, hugging him tightly. "Your otousan and I love each other very much, it's just that we don't like what we do sometimes. So we argue."

Trunks pulled away and rubbed his eyes with a chubby fist. "But why do you have to argue? Why can't you just forgive each other and kiss and make up?"

Bulma felt a stab of pain. If it was only that simple! "Well, your otousan is very . . . your otousan and I," she corrected, "are both very stubborn, and stubborn people can't work things out that way all the time."

Trunks seemed to understand and looked disheartened. Finally, he said, "But what made you so angry? Why were you arguing?"

Bulma started to reply but closed her mouth in confusion. Thinking back, she could remember her and Vegeta's spitting insults at each other, Vegeta's rambling about being the Prince of Saiyans, and then her shouting at him that they were on Earth and he was the prince of nothing because Vegetasei was gone, but she could not remember what they had originally been arguing about before they started calling names. Her jaw dropped in surprise at this. "You know what?" she said, looking baffled. "I honestly don't remember."

* * *

That night the silver moon sat bright in the sky and shined down on Capsule Corp. In Vegeta's and Bulma's bedroom, Bulma lie awake in bed, thinking deeply. Trunks was already fast asleep in his room, dreaming what Bulma hoped were pleasant dreams. She had apologized again to him before bed and made sure to put extra reassurance into her goodnight hug and kiss. The exhausted little half-Saiyan had fallen asleep almost immediately, and now Bulma was alone, brooding over what should be done to remedy things in the long run.

The partly open window in the room suddenly slid open the rest of the way, and Vegeta slid into the bedroom, looking tired and beat. His spandex training outfit was torn, burnt, and bloody and his gravity-defying hair ragged. It was not too hard to guess that he had gone out somewhere remote and trained himself to exhaustion to get his frustrations out. Though he had seen the bedroom light on through the window, he still looked surprised to see Bulma awake at this late an hour.

"You're still awake," he said. "Waiting for me?"

Bulma thought of some vicious retorts she could give him, but held back. "No, I was thinking."

Vegeta pulled his dirty gloves off and threw them on the floor. "Hmpf. Far be it that you would actually worry about me."

"Please Vegeta, let's not start," Bulma begged. "I was just thinking about our arguing. You know, Trunks heard our fight this evening."

Vegeta threw his boots down to join the gloves. "I thought I felt his ki when I left. What did the little brat want?"

"He came in and talked to me. He was really afraid of what happened during our fight." She paused. "He was afraid that you had hurt me."

Vegeta gave no visual sign that he had heard Bulma, but he was silent for a while. Finally, he said, "People argue all the time; he has to accept that. As far as hurting you, surely he knows that I have not been so depraved as to strike my own mate."

Bulma sighed. "I'm not sure that he does know. Think about it. If your parents argued all the time, and one time it got so bad that you could hear your parents' voices from outside the house and your dad went Super Saiyan, I think you'd be worried too."

Vegeta stripped off his bodysuit, decided it was not worth saving, and threw it in the garbage can. "Are you speaking from the viewpoint of a human or a Saiyan?"

Bulma sighed again. "Nevermind. But do you at least have an idea of what I'm getting at?"

"Hai."

"I think that both of us need to be better parents," Bulma said as Vegeta pulled his pajamas out of a drawer and began putting them on. "I mean, we argue over the stupidest things. Do you even remember what we were yelling about today?"

Vegeta stopped dressing and began to think hard. The only things he could recall were that Bulma had insulted his royal status and he had told her exactly what he thought of her at the moment, but none of that had been what started the fight. His eyebrows drew down in frustration.

"See, you can't even remember; I don't remember either. We're arguing over things so trivial that we forget what they were."

Vegeta resumed dressing but did not say anything.

"Listen," Bulma said, "I already apologized to Trunks. Do you think you could do the same?"

"What if I don't feel like it?" Vegeta countered.

"Please?" Bulma begged. "It would mean a lot to him. And me. Trunks looks up to you. You're his hero."

"All right, all right. Don't guilt-trip me, woman." Muttering, Vegeta walked down the hall to Trunks' room and pushed the door open. The moon shone brightly through the window, illuminating the bedroom with silvery light. Trunks' ki was low and even while he slept, and his small face relaxed. Crossing his arms and leaning back against the windowsill, Vegeta waited.

Trunks sensed Vegeta's ki in his sleep and woke up. He looked over and saw a very familiar silhouette in front of his bedroom window. "Otousan?"

"Of course," Vegeta replied.

"Why are you here?"

"I don't need a reason, do I?" Vegeta challenged.

Trunks felt a little hurt by that remark. "Uh, no." There was an uncomfortable silence, then he asked, "Are you and Okaasan still fighting?"

"No."

Trunks felt a little relieved by that, but it was evident that Vegeta seemed frustrated by something. Trunks sat uneasily in the silence and watched his father cautiously. Finally, Vegeta spoke.

"First of all, I want you to know that I would never attack your okaasan—a Saiyan has much more honor than that." He eyed Trunks somewhat haughtily. "And second, I . . ." Vegeta started having visible difficulty speaking. He shifted his arms uncomfortably on his chest. "I'm . . . sorry for arguing with her." He looked almost ashamed by what he had just said. "I . . . suppose . . . I don't . . . always think things through before I get angry."

Trunks was amazed by what Vegeta had just said. Never before had he heard his father admit fault for anything. Trunks was happy, but he could also see how much it had hurt Vegeta's pride to say all that. "I understand," he sympathized. "It's real easy to get mad."

Vegeta looked away, eyes downcast. "It is."

Trunks got out of bed, went up to Vegeta, and hugged his leg. Vegeta looked down at him in surprise. The little half-Saiyan was so small that he did not even come up to his father's waist. Vegeta's initial reaction was to shake him off, but he resisted the urge.

Trunks looked up at him with his large blue eyes. "I love you, Otousan."

Vegeta was so surprised by the comment that he let his arms uncross. He did not understand where that had come from or why, and that bothered him. He blinked in confusion, his features moving almost spastically as he tried to sort out his feelings. Part of him was disgusted that his half-Saiyan son was displaying such pitiful human emotions, but another part of him felt, well, happy that Trunks actually liked him. He opened his mouth to reply but he had no clue what to say. His mouth moved almost fish-like as he made several attempts to speak but kept stopping.

"Don't worry," Trunks said. "I understand."

Vegeta stopped trying to talk. Did Trunks really understand? A look at Trunks' face showed that perhaps he did. After all, Trunks was half Saiyan blood, but at age five could he really understand concepts of pride and its role in admitting feelings? Trunks knew, though; he now knew that although his parents were both stubborn people, they still loved each other. For Vegeta, with all his pride, to admit fault and apologize was wonderful, and Trunks loved him for that. And Vegeta did not have to do say anymore than that because that act in itself told Trunks that he loved him and Bulma back.

Vegeta relaxed and smiled slightly down at Trunks, who smiled back up at him. After a moment, Trunks let go of his leg and returned to bed. As Vegeta walked towards the door, Trunks said, "Goodnight, Otousan."

Vegeta paused with his hand on the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. That genuine smile, however slight, was still on his face. "Goodnight, Trunks."