It was just going to be one of those days.
Piccolo had an annoying little 'Gohan-sense' that went off whenever the demi-saiyan was in the slightest of troubles. It had been one of those peculiar open secrets for a long time, and to be honest, he'd never done anything to discourage it. On more than one occasion he'd stupidly blown up a tiny section of city (hardly worth the flack he got for it) because Gohan was panicking about something as trivial as, say, not having the perfect word count on an essay, or saying the wrong thing to a friend from class. More often than not, however, the fact that Piccolo had this stupid sense had kept the boy from getting squashed flat into the dirt of some planet off in the middle of god-knew-where.
And that was fine. He could live with people being even more wary of him than they already were, he could live with being told never to enter the city unsupervised again. But he couldn't live—and it was a pathetic, stupid thing to say—without Gohan.
And here it was again, urging him to go to the boy's aid.
"This better not be you one day," he snarled at the egg, which was bundled up in his lap as per usual. It shivered in turn—it had been doing that a lot lately, whenever he spoke to it in fact. He bundled it up in a sling that he tied around his shoulder and, though he knew he was physically ready for anything that might come his way, he levitated there and prepared himself emotionally for the lesser half of an hour. When his Gohan-sense became even more incessant, he looked at the sky. "No rest for the wicked," he muttered.
And it was true too.
The Kais no doubt kept the many grand bastards of the world on their toes.
Speaking of which, he hadn't heard from the royal-pain-in-the-ass for a little while either. Which would have been lovely, if it didn't have an awful, foreboding feeling to it. As though someone was…plotting.
He was not surprised when the sense drew him into the city, and was relieved for it. He was not in the mood to exit the thermosphere today, nor was he in the mood to be laughed off the planet when he arrived, cape billowing, body silhouetted by the sun, dust clearing from the explosion, with an egg slung over his shoulder. He was not emotionally stable enough to take that right now.
He narrowed his eyes, becoming increasingly uncomfortable when he realized he was heading in the direction of Capsule Corp. That had trouble written all over it for all sorts of reasons.
"Please, let it be past there," he breathed as he drew ever closer to the Briefs' residence, hoping against hope that wherever he was going was in the same direction as the corporation, but that was all. He prayed and prayed and prayed, but in the end, it was hopeless, and he stopped before the massive white building with his shoulders slumped. Oh Lord. This was going to be the end.
He looked at the shut door, and decided against a dramatic entrance this time. That door had suffered enough. He went carefully to the side of the building, feeling for Gohan's chi, and then it abruptly spiked. That didn't usually happen. He decided to nix the lackadaisical walk and fly around the rest of the building. It turned out the back door was hanging wide open, and he took no time to ponder his good fortune. He merely took advantage of it.
"Gohan," he hissed when his old student's chi spiked further. What was going on? They were in the middle of Capsule Corp. for heaven's sake. What could possibly have been there to distress him?
"No!" He finally heard the demi-saiyan yell at the top of his lungs from a closed door just to his right. "Stop it, I-"
"You're nothing!" Vegeta spat in turn, his voice a gravelly, angry mess. "You have no choice, boy! None!"
"I can't! I can't…!"
Piccolo loved subtlety, he was all about it. But sometimes nothing quite said 'get the hell off of him' like a ki blast in one's general direction. There was a shriek of dismay from within the cloud of smoke that was still billowing off the fallen door, and an unsettling snapping sound that would probably have to be dealt with later. Piccolo stepped in, hand still raised to take care of whoever was putting his old student in distress, and then stopped dead.
He hadn't been expecting this.
It was a bit of an understatement, true enough, but it was a fact.
In the usual circumstance, he would have assumed the worst and beat the daylights right out of Vegeta's ever-loving head. But not this time. He supposed it was that expression he got from Gohan, wide-eyed and guilt-laden, whilst he was standing in the doorway, but whatever it was, it made his brain crash. Seeing Gohan, pinned beneath Vegeta on the floor, wearing a half-undone suit would do that to a person.
They all stayed in absolute silence for a time, searching for excuses and things to say, but really there was nothing. Piccolo turned away, grimacing with chagrin and disgust.
"…I didn't mean to intrude…"
"It's not what it looks like!" Gohan yelled, forcing the prince off of him with a violent punch to the stomach and scrambling to his feet.
These words made Piccolo pause-he felt as though he'd experienced this whole sequence of events before—but he decided it was merely the sheer level of bile rising up into his throat beginning to leak upwards and start melting the contents of his skull.
"Gohan, go back to what you were doing," he said weakly, suddenly exhausted. "I'm going home."
"No, you don't understand. Let me explain!"
Piccolo turned around slowly. Gohan was standing right behind him, holding his fists at his side, and Vegeta was on the floor, body curled up in pain. Gohan was strong enough to crush the saiyan prince if he so desired, and had probably broken something by accident. The namekian looked quietly at the demi-saiyan's expression, the sheer, crimson-cheeked mortification there, and against his better judgment, was amused.
"You're blushing."
"I'm blushing."
"You're blushing."
"I know I'm blushing!" Gohan cried, covering his face with his hands. "Don't look at me!"
Piccolo sighed. Gohan would never change. However, he was now quite a bit more curious about the situation at hand.
"Well?" he said, holding out his palms. "You said this isn't what it looks like." He cocked his head to the side, raising the ridge of his brow. "So what it is exactly, Gohan?"
Piccolo rolled his eyes when instead of looking up from his palms the tips of Gohan's ears went crimson. He needed to get out of this place while he was still sane, lest all this idiocy began to rub off on him, as it had Gohan. Which was a terrible shame, since Gohan was (usually) not an idiotic boy, but today he didn't have the patience to ponder the human inclination to be stupid.
"Stupid Green Bean," Vegeta coughed, making the two others turn to him. Piccolo couldn't help but smile when he found even Gohan hadn't bothered to check if he hadn't accidently killed the prince. It was probably just instinct at this point, though. Vegeta was nearly as prone to dying as Goku was.
"Why don't you mind your own business?" the saiyan grumbled as he pulled himself onto his feet, apparently trying to pretend he hadn't just gotten the stuffing knocked out of him by a man half his age. Needless to say, he wasn't very good at it. "Can't you tell when you're interrupting something?"
"Forgive me for interrupting you molesting my student."
"I wasn't!" Vegeta shrieked, and it was his turn for his face to turn beet red in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Seeing him made Piccolo contemplate what it would be like if his blood was red instead of purple—he imagined blushing would make him look something like a traffic light.
"Stop poking your nose in things, Namekian! I'll crush you!"
"Like Gohan just crushed you?"
Gohan stepped in front of Piccolo just as Vegeta made a wild lunge for Piccolo's neck, hands in front of him and moments from persuading the saiyan prince to relax. When Vegeta rammed into his chest, he let out a cry, and before Piccolo could tell the two of them to knock it off, the demi-saiyan snatched his cape and sent him crashing face first into the floor. Not five seconds later, his nose was gushing blood. Needless to say, Piccolo was not impressed.
"Oh god, Piccolo, I'm so sorry!" Gohan shrieked as Vegeta laughed his heart out. "Let me get you a bandaid!"
"Don' touch me," Piccolo grunted, bringing his arm up as blood still poured rather liberally out of his face. He looked at the egg to make sure that it too wasn't leaking any dubious fluids, and when he was satisfied, he decided to set the proverbial glare beam on the two saiyans, focusing most of the energy on the one that was currently rolling about on the floor in such a fit that Piccolo hoped he was stroking.
"Shuddup," he told the so-called prince while he pulled off his cape so he could use it like a tissue.
"You should have—you should have seen-" Piccolo wrinkled his nose at Vegeta when he let out another peal of laughter. "Who knew Namekians were so spectacularly poised?"
"Vegeta!" someone shrieked from the level above them, shocking the saiyan out of his mirth. "Quiet down, would you! I only said you could help Gohan if you promised you wouldn't try anything on him!"
"Shut up, woman, that never happened!" Vegeta roared towards the ceiling, every inch of him turning such a spectacular shade of scarlet that you could see it through his shirt.
Piccolo smiled faintly. He loved listening to Bulma talk. It was like a radio tabloid that only featured Vegeta. And it was fabulous.
"Maybe we should all calm down," Gohan suggested with a deep sigh. Piccolo had only been there for a few minutes, and it seemed that all the excitement that had brought was already enough to exhaust the young demi-saiyan.
"Agreed," said Piccolo. He removed his cape from his face to find the noseblood had thankfully stopped, and wiped away any excess purple from his features before setting his turban on the floor with his cape, just because he couldn't very well put one back on without the other without looking like he had some very special needs. He crossed his legs and put his hands on his ankles, gazing at the two before him quizzically.
"So?" he asked finally. "What precisely is going on?"
The saiyan prince and the demisaiyan exchanged glances, and when the former just shrugged unhelpfully Gohan found that he had to do the explaining on his own.
"Actually, I was going to tell you soon but…" said Gohan, only for Piccolo to roll his eyes.
"I find that bit of information irrelevant. Please, surprise me with something useful."
The demi-saiyan gave Piccolo a nervous glance from beneath his eyelashes.
"Well, okay, so," he set his hands in front of him, as though announcing to the world it was time to explain, "the thing is…there was this thing, right? And then, you know, Bulma was…and then mom found out and…this, this skillet just, it hit me and…I dunno, I guess she thought that was why we, I mean, Videl and me, you know…and I do visit you a lot, but it wasn't my fault, because I'm a good boy, and I would never…but Goten and Trunks didn't say anything so we were all, like, 'cool,'…but, you know, kids, right? And then there was this bowtie, just, just strangling me and…a lot of blood, I guess…." He looked at his feet and nodded. "And then we were here."
Piccolo stared at his ex-student for a time, waiting for the unabridged version of that…dubious explanation, but upon receiving none, he gave Gohan his best possible incredulous look.
"Are you quite sure you want to be a teacher when you graduate, Gohan?"
"What?" said the demi-saiyan, both inexplicably surprised and, disconcertingly, relieved. "You didn't understand?"
"I was supposed to understand that?" He shook his head. "You're giving me credit for mental faculties that I don't have."
"If he let a little thing like that stop him, he'd never be able to talk to you," muttered Vegeta, which earned him a sharp look from Piccolo.
"Perhaps you would like to try again, Gohan?"
"Um…" the demisaiyan swallowed, collecting his thoughts, and then with a deep breath of air, he just threw it out on the table for everyone to see. "They found out about the egg."
Piccolo didn't react to this news immediately. He just stared at Gohan perplexedly, blinking at the necessary moments, trying to decipher all the individual words so he could figure out what that sentence meant, only to find he still didn't understand it at all.
"What do you mean?"
"They found out."
"Who's 'they?'"
"Everyone."
"Everyone."
"Er, yeah…"
They fell into silence as Piccolo contemplated this, eyes empty and expression blank.
"Gohan?"
"Yes?"
The earsplitting shriek that Piccolo let loose upon the world gave Gohan the cue to get on his feet and make a wild dash towards the window, crying out desperately as the Namekian grabbed at his heels, making his body slap against the floor as he fell over himself, and then was lifted upside down in the air as Piccolo considered whether or not he wished to keep him alive. Usually he would have felt a little more conflicted about his decision to gut him, but today was special.
"What did you do?" Piccolo roared, making Gohan wrap his arms around his head as he swung wildly back and forth to protect himself from an assault that was sure to make him wish he'd stayed inside that devil-woman's womb.
"It wasn't me, I swear!" the demi-saiyan cried. "It was Goten and Trunks! I promise I had nothing to do with it! I just want—I want to live!"
"Do you know what I'll have to deal with because of you?" Piccolo went on. "Do you know the sort of madness you've thrust upon me! Do you think life is an option here? You'll wish Cell was still alive by the time I'm done with you!"
"I'm so sorry!"
"I should rip your spine out your chest cavity, you little-,"
"Alright, that's enough," said Vegeta, apparently deciding not to be useless just long enough to be an active intrusion. "If you're going to kill him, at least do it outside. It'll just smell if you do it here."
"I'll do whatever I damn well please," the Namekian snapped, prompting Vegeta to defy physics by having his hair bristle even more than usual.
"How dare you-,"
"If you want Gohan to leave, then take him from me," Piccolo dared. Gohan yelped when his mentor lifted him so high above his head that his fingertips couldn't even touch the ground anymore. Maybe because all of this nonsense Piccolo's mind was slowly degenerating into a nigh-juvenile state, but even though he was perfectly aware that he'd never done anything so childish, he went through with it anyway if for no other reason than to see the expression on the saiyan's stupid face. "Assuming you can even reach that high."
Just as he'd predicted, Vegeta's face was priceless.
His reaction, on the other hand, was not.
Piccolo dropped Gohan on the floor in a hurry, caring little for the yelp of pain the boy let out as his head cracked against the floor. His eyes stayed riveted on the saiyan in front of him, hands half reaching out and eyeballs all too close to bursting out of his skull. Vegeta held the egg in both hands, arms raised above him, a smirk playing on his nasty little lips.
"You wouldn't," Piccolo said breathlessly, taking a tentative step towards the saiyan. When Vegeta replied by moving further out of the way and weakening his grasp on the egg, the namekian knew he was really barking up the wrong tree.
"Something you want to say, green bean?" the saiyan snarled.
"Vegeta," said Gohan, which only invited a sharp glare from the prince.
"Shut up, boy," Vegeta snapped. He loosened his grip even further, the egg slipping through his meager grasp, and Piccolo let out an incomprehensible squeak.
"If you drop that-"
"You'll do what?"
"I swear, Vegeta."
"Then apologize," the saiyan demanded. "Say you're sorry, you son of a-"
Vegeta let out a roar when Gohan knocked him headlong in the gut and he went toppling backwards, the egg flying out of his grasp. Piccolo lunged into the air, made a grab for it and very nearly missed when a chi blast nicked him on the shoulder and blew away a decent sized chunk in the ceiling. He landed on his back, mouth open in a relieved gasp, and mentally prepared himself for the task of wringing the life right out of the little princeling. But not before he was interrupted by a resounding shriek and the door being kicked open with such force that he almost thought a new enemy had arrived on earth with the intent of challenging them. No such luck.
"Vegeta!" Bulma cried, brandishing a wrench formidably in one hand as she did, hair messy and eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness. Her eyes darted around the room like an animals, utterly unforgiving and ready to devour whoever was dumb enough to move first. Piccolo made the mistake of blinking and her head snapped to him instantly, lips curled in a snarl. "How many times do I have to tell you-" It took her a little while to realize the person she was looking at was not her husband. It took a little while after that to realize that said husband was in the corner, trying to wrestle away a seething half-saiyan with all his Napoleonic might. She blinked a few times at the Namekian, who was trying and failing to avoid her gaze, and then her eyes dropped to the egg. "Is that…?" She glanced around once more, and just like that, as though playing connect the dots, she realized exactly what had just happened. No sooner had she done that did she throw herself at Piccolo with all her insane strength, and he let out a useless hiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck as though she meant to choke him. "You're such a good mother!"
"Why am I the mother?" Piccolo bit out as he shoved her off of him, face flushed with the indignity of it, which was enough to get Gohan and Vegeta to stop trying to kill each other long enough to turn around.
On her knees at the Namekian's side, Bulma put her hands in her lap and blinked. Whether she meant to or not, her eyes flicked to Gohan. She caught herself and looked at the ground, shaking her head embarrassedly, but it wasn't fast enough. The damage had already been done. Both student and teacher realized what she was thinking at identical times, and there were undoubtedly no words in this or any universe for the sounds that were streaming through both their heads and out of their mouths.
"I would never-"
"Piccolo's not-"
"Do I seem like some sort of—"
"My mom would-"
"I'd never hear the end of-"
"I'm such a good boy!" Gohan cried, throwing up his arms and looking rather piteously like he was about to burst into tears. "I wouldn't let Piccolo become a single mom!"
"I know," Bulma laughed, waving her hands in front of her face. "I should have realized that to begin with-"
"That should not be the reason you realize Gohan and I aren't…!" Piccolo drew in a thick breath between his teeth, gripping the egg as tight as it would allow.
"So then who is the father?" asked Bulma. She recoiled just in time to avoid Piccolo's face knocking straight into hers. Vegeta still managing to snicker despite the fact his mouth was bloody from Gohan's fist just infuriated the namekian all the more.
"I am!"
"So then who-"
"Me! I'm the only who was involved in this process, alright? Me and me alone!"
She blinked a few times more. "Fascinating." She smiled at Piccolo from beneath her eyelashes, which made him deeply dubious about the intentions of her next words. "Well, that makes my job that much easier, doesn't it?"
…...
Ironically, even though I'm the one who's writing this, I happen to dislike this style of fic—it's more suited to a script than a story. And yet….people still keep giving me encouragement to finish. Ours is a strange and marvelous world huh?
Well, whatever, here's this decidedly useless chapter, put forth after a decidedly unproductive number of months. I stopped and started this chapter so often that i don't even know if its internally consistent. And I haven't even gone through this for typos. Because I suck. I'm so sorry T_T. Hopefully something will actually happen in the next chapter. Thanks for putting up with me, everyone.