Chapter Text
It was a tranquil day in West City, the sun was shining, birds were chirping and everything seemed to be peaceful… for now.
Vegeta leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, staring off into the distance with a cigarette hanging from his mouth and taking a few puffs.
It was a peculiar habit he never expected himself to develop, but after hanging out with Bulma and her family, the cigarette smell often lingered under his nostrils, the temptation simply got the best of him, and so, while Bulma's father was distracted with one of his many projects, Vegeta managed to sneakily grab one of his cigarettes and lighter, hiding them under his armour as he strolled out the door unnoticed.
But, of course, this wonderful tranquil moment would not last long; if it wasn't Kakarot popping out of nowhere and asking him to train, it was his 8-year-old son, who seemed to have endless questions that would lead even the most patient of people to have an aneurysm.
Trunks appeared from the opposite end of the field, giving him that judging stare that was eerily similar to Bulma's previous look when he had left the toilet seat up this morning. He held a red balloon in his hand while staring at his dad.
"Dad!" Trunks yelled, marching up to him with balloon in hand, "You know how bad smoking is for you. Mom says it's bad for your lungs and can make you forgetful, like Grandpa."
Vegeta didn't blink; he just gazed at his son as he slowly took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled dramatically, causing Trunks to scrunch his face at him. "And talking to strangers is bad for you," he replied coolly.
Trunks stared in perplexity at his father's comment. "Uh.. you are my dad?"
Vegeta gave a half-shrug and smirked, "I'm just a mysterious warrior with a violent history and questionable parenting skills. That sounds like a stranger to me."
Then with deadly Saiyan precision, Vegeta flicked the blazing tip of his cigarette forward – right into Trunks' balloon.
POP!
The balloon exploded as though it owed Vegeta money.
Trunks only stared at the shredded rubber parts flopping to the ground before slowly lifting his stare at his father.
"You popped my balloon!"
"You popped my patience," Vegeta remarked smugly, turning away as if he had just finished a monologue.
Trunks stared at his father, and he shouted the next words that he knew would instill terror in his father: "I'm telling Mom!" he exclaimed, sprinting towards their home.
Vegeta froze, his eyes widening in fear as he watched his son dash towards their home. "…Crap."