"You can NOT be serious!"
"Have you ever known me not to be?"
My arms are crossed tightly over my chest, and have been for so long I'm starting to sweat just a little. Part of me knew that this day was going to come, even though I'd liked to live in the little dream that maybe it wouldn't and Gohan would make friends with other children his age, and we could set up playdates and… Goku used to tell me I worried about him too much. He was always met with a swift swat to the ear and a semi-playful remark about him not worrying enough. What I wouldn't give to have that over this right now!
"ChiChi, look…" He has no right to go dragging his hand down his face like that! Like I was wearing him out or something—we've only been talking (read: arguing) about this for a measly two hours. This was nothing in my book, I am the queen of stubbornness and the reigning champion of the household decisions!
"Piccolo, I ain't gonna budge on this one! I know you know him well, you trained Gohan yourself—without my consent I might add—and while I appreciate you comin' to me about this first, my answer is still absolutely not." My jaw is set firmly but to seal the deal I hit him with one of my "Mama Said No" looks; yeah, that'll show him.
It gives me a real pain in the neck to look him in the eyes when he stands all straight and immovable like that, and I know he knows that, too. He was doing it on purpose! Prick… "Trust me, Dragon Breath, I heard you the first four hundred times you no, but if you could pipe down for approximately 30 seconds and let me explain myself, it would benefit both of us."
"Your son has a heart of gold and the brat is in love with that damned beast." It's not fair for him to look at me like that. I just know he's been practicing the art of mother persuasion with Gohan, no way Demon Brains here would be capable of that on his own! "I've done my research. Even if I hated every minute of it—which I did—I talked to a few humans about this; pets are apparently a staple of childhood in multiple human cultures."
I was starting to feel the faint throbbing of a budding headache, but I relented only enough to pinch the bridge of my nose. Piccolo was not allowed to make good points like this, he just wasn't! It was always so off-putting to argue with him; Goku certainly never put up as much of a fight, but that's because he knew I was right! Well, that, and he usually left most of the important decisions up to me.
Here I am, starting to get the distinct feeling that… I may not be… entirely right this time.
"Well, maybe you gotta point, but a DRAGON is nowhere near the kinda pet I want my son havin'! Why cain't he have a puppy instead? Y'know, something normal and easily house-trainable?"
It takes me a long moment to look up at him, but I don't have to strain as hard this time. He was slumped, back resting against the doorway to the kitchen. So what if I didn't hide my smirk—he tried to look so nonchalant hunched over like that, but I knew it was because he was so damned tall. I wondered if he knew that his antennae twitched when he thought too hard. Maybe one day I would have the heart to tell him.
When he sighed though, that's when I knew that that day would not be today. It was one of those "I'm Piccolo the surly ex-Demon and I shouldn't be forced to try and compromise with dumb earth women" sighs. It belongs at the top of the list of things that grated my nerves. "If he wanted a puppy, don't you think he would have brought one home by now? And anyway, if trainability is what you're worried about, don't. That dragon was circus-bred, trained from birth. So, there. No more qualms, yes?"
"Woah, hey, I never said that was my only pr—"
"Gohan knows how to hunt, and you taught him how to make a schedule. Icarus will never go hungry."
"… Icarus? You mean you know that beast's name?"
My smirk minutely wider at the peculiar shade of violet that was tinging my Namekian houseguest's ears. Now wasn't that just so darn adorable? Sometimes I forget just how easy it is to get him all flustered.
"Gohan only mentioned it to me 37 times in one day. How could I forget?" I watch him carefully as he meticulously studied a very specific spot on the ceiling, and then my hardwood floors, followed by gazing at something very interesting out the window.
"Of course, how silly of me to ask!... But I know you secretly enjoy seein' him happy. I can see it plain as day no matter how gruff your little mask is." My smirk is definitely a full-blown smile now, turns out that Green Bean was a full body blusher. I could see the heat creeping down what little expanse of throat he showed.
"Well, from the way you're talking, it's almost as if you don't." Perhaps Piccolo was too flustered to understand the magnitude of that sentence, but it doesn't matter. It was my turn to blush now, but it sure as hell wasn't from embarrassment. I'm completely livid now, and I know it's apparent, from the way my jaw is clenching to the flames that practically erupt from my eyes.
"Now just who in the hell do you think you are? I love my son, and I have always done what was best for him, no matter what!" I can tell he wants to interject so I throw up a hand to stop him, Mama's on a roll now. "You wanna insult me like that? Fine, see if I care. But this is your responsibility now. If that dragon even thinks about grazin' my garden," I tick up one finger on the shushing hand that had morphed into a vengeful fist, "or ruinin' my clothes line," followed by a second finger, "or reckons its fine to destroy my firewood reserves," and a third finger to boot, "or, I dunno, MAIMS my SON—" My fingers curl into a fist at this moment, quivering with affront and anger, before a single finger points at him ever so daintily. "Then it's your hide I'm after. And don't think for a second that I'm gonna to take it easy on you, either!"
That—that—how rude can a person get? And to say that to my face in my own home? I give him my back as I try to find some composure; the embarrassment part is starting to shine through, and I can't help but start second-guessing myself. Who is he to talk about what's important for a childhood? Gohan's already lost so much of it, no thanks to Piccolo himself. But then… here he is trying to make amends. Am I hurting my baby boy by stopping him…? Gohan has handled worse but, wild animals like that are dangerous!
Mild throat clearing behind me derails my train of thought, and I have to take a few heavy breaths before I can turn to face him. Huh. Sheepish is a new expression to grace his features, usually its standoffish or peeved. It doesn't matter, I am a woman of standards and respect and I deserve to be shown some!
"ChiChi I… that was out of line." I thought seeing him meek like this would make me feel better, but it just makes me sad. His Adam's apple bobs under his scarf, I can tell by the way it shifts; he must be nervous. He should be.
"Piccolo, I really don't wanna hear it. I've said my piece and you've said yours. By all means, go relay the news to my son. Let him know I need him home by sundown, we have some ground rules to cover."
He gives me a wide birth when I sweep past him into the kitchen, stubbornly pushing down the ache of sadness and lingering sting of insult. The tell-tale swish of his cape dragging on the floor tells him that he is thinking about leaving, and part of me wishes he would. But of course, the other part wishes he would stay, and give me some damned reassurance that I wasn't failing as a mother like he seemingly thought.
Sometimes you just don't get what you want.
You would think that with a house as quaint and tidy as ours, filled with books, memories, and good food, it wouldn't feel so empty. The windows are still open, letting early fall air purge any ill feelings that might remain. It doesn't quite reach me, although I can feel its whispers tugging at the edge of my gown. Dredges of loneliness settle at the bottom of my heart, and images of Goku flicker through my mind. Laughing, smiling, wolfing down the huge meals I would make him. I'm thankful that his son doesn't eat nearly as much, although some nagging feeling told me this was just the beginning; my arms ache at the thought even though the pot I'm stirring would have been an appetizer for my husband.
The stew is simmering in no time, so I figure why not take a moment of rest for the day. I deserve it after wading through that malarkey all afternoon. Jolly Green Jackass is such an enigma to me. First, he steals my kid; I trace his dumb pointy ears on the solid oak of the kitchen table. Trains him, protects him, manages to make sure he gets home to us safe; my hand flops over my minds image of his snaggle toothed face imprinted on the tabletop. He lingers around my house while Goku is away training, he's even… my face ends up meeting the table where my doodle had been, and my breath fogs the polished wood when I sigh in defeat. Piccolo cares about Gohan, that much is for sure. I know I should trust him, and I do, of course I do! But it's just not what I had envisioned for Gohan…
That shouldn't matter; Piccolo is his closest friend, the man—alien? —he looks up to. He'll keep my little boy safe. With a newfound determination, I sit ramrod straight; but that doesn't mean he'll be traipsing through my house anytime soon without a heartfelt apology! Papa didn't raise himself no doormat, I am a woman to be contended with.
It feels nice to settle back in the chair, and let the crisp breeze finally take me. My arms instinctively curl around myself once more; now it's time to wait. The sun is setting, and I gotta think of a way to explain to a cranky 6-year-old that there will be no dragons sleeping at the foot of anyone's bed tonight.