The Perfect Date
By Elektra
Disclaimer: This story was written for fun and there is no intention of making a profit off of the properties of Toriyama, Funimation, DB/Z/GT, etc. Baby Hancha is a creation of a very wonderful writer, Kinomi.
Rated PG-13
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Chapter 1
Early on in the summer dusk becomes the best time of the day in Satan City. The aroma of mature flora scents the air as the sun makes its hasty exit. The sky darkens from azure to indigo, taking on the look of a fine watercolor painting as the stars light up one at a time. City lights mimic the burgeoning celestial show, causing the large metropolis to take on an otherworldly, whimsical quality. Lovers stir with anticipation as thoughts turn to the romantic evening that awaits them. All is well. The city is magical. The evening is perfect.
Unless that is, you are Marron Chestnut-Wolf.
Then your evening is about to suck.
Big time.
WAHHHH!
"Shhh! Oh please baby! Don't cry! Shhh. I promise you can cry all night long if you just let me finish what I'm doing right now."
Marron stared pleadingly at the infant in her arms. Hancha stopped crying momentarily and gave his young mother a slightly unfocused look. He seemed to seriously consider her request.
Then he let out another ear piercing wail.
WAHHHH!
Now Marron felt like crying too. She sat on the edge of her bed and felt tears welling up in her eyes.
"What am I doing wrong?" She wailed out loud in frustration. "His diaper is dry and if I nurse him any longer my nipples will fall off! He doesn't want to eat anyway."
Over the sound of her upset child she heard a sharp knocking. "Marron, you're going to be late and Yamcha's been waiting for a while now. I think you better hurry up."
That was it. The sound of her mother's monotone voice caused the normally upbeat blonde to lose it. Now her sobs were mixed in with the baby's. Her son cried even harder in answer to his mother's frustration and now they were both spinning out of control.
The door quietly opened and Eighteen looked in on the pair. "You need to calm down," she helpfully suggested. "He's only responding to your anxiety and as long as you're upset, he'll be upset."
"W-well thank you Dr. Phil," she replied petulantly.
The android let the comment slide as she closed the bedroom door behind her and sat next to her daughter. Then she took her unhappy grandson from his mother's arms and gently rocked him back and forth. The baby miraculously stopped crying. A blissful peace suffused the room, occasionally interrupted by a sniffle or hiccup. And then Eighteen had to go and ruin it.
"Are you going to wear that?"
"Huh? (Sniff) Well yeah. It's all I have Momma . . ." Marron looked down at herself. She was wearing a black, loose fitting cotton dress. "What's wrong with it? S-should I change my shoes?"
"No, honey, you should change the dress. It's unattractive and inappropriate for the restaurant you're dining at tonight. Too casual."
Eighteen immediately regretted her remark when she saw her daughter's bottom lip tremble. In all the years that she lived among humans, she still hadn't got the hang of sensitivity and tact. She scrolled through a list of pre-recorded responses in her head, but found none appropriate to the situation. She decided to wing it instead.
"Look," Eighteen advised, more gently. "Try the blue suit."
"Mom, I-I can't! (Sniff) I'm too fat (Sniff) and it's too tight. (Sniff, sniff) I don't want Y-Yamcha to see me like that."
The android stared at Marron, convinced her daughters brains and good sense had somehow leaked out of her head.
Stroking the girl's hair she replied, "You aren't fat, you're just not toned right now. The pantsuit is tailored to flatter your figure and will complement your skin color and eyes. And you know what? Yamcha already knows what you look like so don't let it bother you."
Unwilling to give in Marron hiccuped, "M-my h-hair's a mess,"
"Clean up your face and comb your hair. You'll look fine. I promise."
Marron started to relax a bit. She observed her mother's handling of her son and asked, "How do you do that?"
Eighteen raised an eyebrow.
"Y-you know, get him to quiet down?" (Sniff)
Eighteen switched Hancha to her other arm then took Marron's hand with her free hand. Marron gasped when she felt a gentle vibration course through her arm.
"Oh! That's amazing! I didn't know you could do that."
Eighteen shrugged and said, "It's good to be an android."
"It feels nice. It's all tingly and stuff," Marron commented with a giggle.
"Your father says that too." She offered dryly.
"Eww," She exclaimed as a large drop of sweat appeared on her forehead. "I didn't want to know that." With that she got up, grabbed the suit out of the closet and headed for the bathroom.
Eighteen watched her daughter close the door behind her. With a small sigh she then held the baby up for inspection. Her eyes glazed over as her brain sifted through data and performed computations. As her eyes scanned her grandson from head to toe, her brain took the information and created a 3-dimensional holographic model. Sifting through stored data, she came up with an another model, that of a small male. After running a comparison analysis of the two, the result came back a 4 percent match. She ran a few more comparisons with different models. The result for a tall female read 1 percent and a smaller female was 5 percent. The last though, was a tall male and it was a 90 percent match.
This time she expelled a longer sigh as her eyes refocused. Speaking out loud she remarked, "You're going to look just like that desert rat, aren't you?"
As if responding to her query, Hancha kicked his legs happily and gurgled. In an unusual display of sentimentality, Eighteen kissed her grandson on the forehead and forgave his minor betrayal.
To pass the time she began analyzing the décor of the couple's room. At least he has good taste,' she noted with approval.
She could tell the interior design was her son-in-law's idea, from the clean lines of the furniture to the subtle pallet of blues and grays. If it were up to Marron, things would be a bit more—pink. She idly wondered how the boys were doing.
The cybernetic grandmother wouldn't be surprised to hear that they were talking about as usual—air cars. Okay, so they had been talking about tournaments and fighters before then, but then it moved on to cars.
"Did you the see new Capsule Car 580z? Those things are sweet!" Krillen got a wistful look in his eye for a second.
"Are you talking turbo or the V64 hydrogen model?"
"Virtual 64 all the way man. In a metallic silver."
"Dude, I don't know," replied Yamcha. "My 500 turbo has more power than that. And it doesn't have all that crappy red appliqué on the rear end."
"Yamcha, my man, you are too picky about design."
"I look at it this way. The 580 has the front end of a Solaron and the back end of a 320 Pulsar. If I wanted that look, I'd just as soon buy the Solaron and save a couple thousand zeni."
"I guess you're right," said Krillen, giving into the point. "Speaking of 500's how's yours?"
"Heh. It's in the shop. It got dinged so I'm having a little body work done."
"Don't tell me you're going in Marron's car?"
"Yeah, well, the station wagon's not too bad."
"Uh uh." Krillen reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a capsule case. He examined the capsules for a moment before pulling out a red one and handing it over to Yamcha.
"Take the Merc."
"Oh, no way Krillen! That thing's too cherry. I can't drive it around."
"Take it." He insisted. "You can't go to Damiano's in the family car."
Yamcha graciously accepted his best friend and father-in-law's offer. In truth, the candy apple red vintage convertible was "sweet".
Marron and Eighteen entered the room just then. "Sorry I took so long Sweetpotato," she whispered in his ear.
Yamcha eyed his wife appreciatively. "No problem, Shortcake. I like that outfit on you."
Marron blushed happily as her mom gave her an I-told-you so look. The two of them said their good-byes and were off to a night of dinner and dancing.
--
45 minutes later, the happy grandparents had put the tiniest Chestnut to bed. They sat down in front of the couch after lowering the lights and putting on jazzy tunes.
"I hope Yamcha remembers to put the car in neutral when idling. The Merc has a timing issue. I'll have him look at it later. Shouldn't be a problem." Krillen then asked, "Do you think they're having fun yet?"
"Maybe, if Marron calms down."
"You weren't that way when you were pregnant."
Eighteen shot her husband an exasperated look. "Of course not. I'm an android. I'm not prone to hormonal imbalances. I wasn't built that way."
"Heh. Okay." Krillen paused a moment before continuing. "I don't suppose you could give an old man a back rub?"
"It depends on how much shopping the old man is willing to do tomorrow."
"You cruel, cruel woman. You drive a hard bargain, but it's a deal. Anywhere you want baby!"
Eighteen crooked her finger at her husband, silently signaling him to scoot over. Krillen eagerly complied.
"Yeah. I'm sure those two are having the time of their lives Eighteen. No need to worry about them." He decided out loud. "Oh, that feels nice. It's all tingly and stuff"
--
Meanwhile, at Damiano's
"Why yes sir, we do have a table for you. One of our reservations was a no show. We'll seat you right away!" Offered the Maitre'd.
Not that the Maitre'd would have cared to know, but the no show reservation was fifteen city blocks away, arms covered in engine grease and apologizing profusely to his disappointed wife.
"I'm sorry baby girl. The car has a timing issue. Maybe we should call it night and try some other time."
Maybe,' thought Marron miserably, it sucks to be me.'
Marron handed Yamcha a baby wipe so that he could clean himself up. He took note of how disappointed his wife was and tried to think of a way to save the evening. As he inspected his hands, he knew that he was no longer presentable for a date. 'At least not for the date we had planned,' he decided as his thoughts coalesced into a new plan.
Yamcha encapsulated the car and put the capsule in a carrying case. Marron glanced at him, questioningly. Yamcha shrugged on his jacket, wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted the two of them through the air.
"Where are we going, Sweetpotato?"
Yamcha gave a small, secretive smile then replied, "You'll see."
Marron wrapped her arms a little tighter around him as they flew toward their secret destination.
TBC
A/N: Where is Yamcha taking Marron? Will her evening get better, or will it blow as well as suck? Are Krillen and Eighteen going to get it on? Stay tuned next chapter when Krillen asks Eighteen,
"Are you ready for another baby?"