Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Chapter Two

A/N: (Author's Note, incase you didn't already know) Just a note before we start off. The ages in this fic are inaccurate according to the "real" DBZ universe. Goten and Trunks are both about 8, while Gohan is only 11. I just wanted a young Gohan in the fic, instead of the teen one. I don't particularly like Teen-Gohan's character. Eheh. Well that's it, just was giving you a heads up! Enjoy the chapter.
---

Bulma stretched as she advanced from her house into the gerage, toward her car. She loved Sundays. Backing out of the gerage, the sunlight greeted her. She smiled at this, since the weather as of late had been cloudy and wet. She hummed as she started down the street away from her huge three story home, located behind the Capsule Corporation industry and invention buildings. Sundays were the best days to run errands. Sometimes she attended church, but today she was rather busy and didn't feel like trying to drag Vegeta out of bed to go with her, or deal with the fuss of making her 8 year old son, Trunks, get dressed nicely.

She looked about thinking of how beautiful the world appeared to her today. The roads weren't very busy at all, being the "Day of Rest." Most people were home doing just that, sleeping in or enjoying their last day of the weekend. Others were all at church. The list of her "to do" priorities rushed through her head. First she needed to get to the bank.

Bulma turned onto the highway, hardly recognizing it, since it was usually cram-packed with cars by this time. She always took this road on the way to her morning commute. But today it was nearly empty of activity. She didn't see even one person walking. Bulma sped up to the limit heading for the main heart of the city. Bulma blinked seeing a lone figure appear suddenly next to the highway. She recognized him immediately. As she passed his eyes lifted, looking in her direction. As she watched in amazement, his gaze met and followed her own, sending a slight chill down her spine. But soon their eye contact was broken as her car sped past him. She looked forward again feeling oddly frazzled.

But soon Bulma forgot about it, or tried to. She got caught up in a song in the radio, easily and almost willingly. After finishing her buisiness at the bank, she drove to her favorite shopping center, the central mall of the city. Sunday mornings were always nice for shopping since most people weren't out, and today she didn't feel like dealing with the large crowds that usually were there on most days, especially Saturday. Never the less, the green man and all thoughts of him soon disapated from her mind with the distractions of her own life.

A couple of hours later, she was checking out from her last shopping trip in her favorite clothing store, when her cell phone rang, with it's catchy ringtone. She appologized to the clerk who shrugged as they swiped her credit card, and Bulma punched in her pin and signed the receipt habitually, glancing at her cell phone's I.D. before answering it. It was her husband. She flipped it open and rested the phone on her shoulders as she gathered her bags and thanked the clerk, heading toward the exit of the shop.

"Vegeta?" She asked, distractedly, "Thanks again--" she bid the clerk goodbye turning and heading out the shop entrance, "What is it hun?"

"Where are you?" His tone was miffed--which was familiar to Bulma's ears.

"Shopping," she said indifferently. "I'm done, I'm just heading to my car."

"Good, Trunks is driving me insane. He woke me up by jumping onto my stomach...when I walked into the kitchen this morning the place was wrecked. I think he ate a cup of pure sugar for breakfast, literally, because the bag's spilled open on the table and his favorite bowl is half full of it." Bulma could imagine the visible throbbing of the vain in her husband's temple as he spoke with resignated anger. She sighed slightly.

"Don't worry, I'll be home soon. Just try and calm him down." Vegeta snorted at this suggestion and hung up. She mumbled angrily snapping her phone shut and reached her car a moment later, using the beeper button to unlock it. She loaded her bags into the backseat and got in, starting the engine. She soon was back on the highway heading toward Capsule Corp. She turned into the correct exit which bled onto a more residential street, causing her to slow her speed. And that's when she saw him again, for the second time today in a time span of not even three hours. He was bent over a trash can which was emmiting flames, his fingerless-gloved hands held over the warm fire. Bulma slowed as she passed, but he didn't look up at her. She continued on, swallowing slightly...she felt a sudden pang of guilt as she realized their different situations. She was almost to the last street she needed to turn onto which led to her home, when a sudden urge stopped her. Bulma pulled to the side of the road thoughtfully...If only she could do something...

With a sudden inspiration to help out a poor man in need, she backed up and turned around, heading back to where the green man stood huddled over the trashcan. She slowly pulled over. He still didn't look up. She watched him almost in amazement, almost afraid. She needed to get his attention but she was scared to get out of the car. Afterall she was a woman with no weapon. She then unrolled her window and fumbled with her wallet nervously. Bulma unclipped the money pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill, snapping it shut once more. She looked at him hoping he would notice her on his own and come over, but he seemed to be completely oblivious to her nearness.

Finally, she seemed to draw the courage to speak. "Um, Excuse me. Sir?"

Piccolo lifted his eyes directly to her's. He didn't look surprised at her being parked on the side of the street parallel to him. Instead he looked almost as if he had been aware of her being there all along, almost as if he had been wishing she would of left if he had ignored her. Even though Bulma sensed this, she didn't back down.

"Ahem..." she hesitated, wanting to find the politest words. "Please come over here for a moment."

Piccolo stood still for a moment. His eyes sifted over her exposed frame, unable to see all of her, but able to read her face. He stood straight with the air of doing as she asked just to humor her. He walked over wordlessly, his gait easy and completely uneffected by nerves or hesitation. He looked down at her, not bending to look curiously into her luxurious car. He simply stood silently, his hands relaxed in his pockets, waiting for her to complete whatever it was she was planning to do.

"Look," Bulma started again, obviously trying to bolster herself up to be stern, even against his strangely intimidating attitude, "it looks like you could use some help. Now, I'll give you some money if you swear not to go and spend it on things like booze, drugs, or cigarettes...use it to get something good for yourself, something that will last. You understand me?" She held up the hundred dollar bill, just above the open window.

Piccolo bent down to look into the window at her face more closely. He reached up and took the bill lightly from her, looking away from her face for a moment to glance over the money. He then looked back up to her and smirked slightly, an odd smile that sent he same chills that had rushed down Bulma's spine when he had made eyecantact with her on the highway. It wasn't a smile of thanks or gratitude, in face it was a sarcastic grin that seemed to mock her random act of kindness. Suddenly he made a sharp movement that made her jump, and Bulma was shocked as she realized he had thrown the bill back in her face.

"Thanks lady, but I don't want your money. I rather have your respect." He stood straight again and turned his back to her. As Bulma watched him in surprise, the bill lying in her lap where it had fallen, she realized he didn't even look angry. In fact he looked completely unphased; not even annoyed. This is what surprised her the most. And angered her. She twitched, feeling that this was rude, when she felt she was just trying to help. "Well no wonder you're in such a bad situation if you're a jerk to everyone that tries to help you!" She quickly drove forward and turned around, heading back speedily in the direction of her house, fuming. Piccolo didn't even look up from the trash can or retort to her outburst. He really didn't care.

Bulma noticed her grip on her steeringwheel was unusually firm as she drove down the street toward her house. She breathed in a deep breath and sighed it out again to calm herself, loosening her fingers on the wheel. She pulled into the gerage and closed her eyes mumbling to herself. She got out and grabbed her newly purchased treasures and walked into the house, saying under her breath, "What an ass."

She entered the kitchen, her heels seeming to click indignantly on the tiled floor. She blinked as she was hit with the realization that her kitchen was completely wrecked. She looked around, feeling her already stimulated anger escalate to an even higher scale. Sugar was scattered from the bag on the table like sand, half of it on the floor. The fridge was left open and the counters were covered with smashed eggs, the empty carton open on the floor. Chocolate syrup and ice cream were left out on the middle of the floor, both spread liberally on the floor around, and hardly any of it in, a bowl. Sprinkles were scattered inside the mess, making it a colorful sticky arangement to fuel her anger.

Bulma stormed into the livingroom and dropped her shopping bags on the clean carpet, kicking her now sticku-bottomed heels off ahead of time in the kitchen. She was even madder that Vegeta had seen the mess and had made no attempt whatsoever to clean any of it himself. Sunday was the maid's day off, so it meant she had to do it herself. The least he could of done was put up the melting ice cream or something. "VEGETA! TRUNKS!" She yelled looking around in rage. "COME HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Vegeta walked down the stairs looking bored. He dragged a squirming reluctant Trunks behind him by the back of the collar of his shirt. He reached the bottom of the stairs and dropped Trunks infront of the fuming woman. He swallowed and looked up to meet her gaze timidly. Bulma crossed her arms with authority, growling low. "Trunks, you are going to help clean up that mess in the kitchen right now. And furthermore you can't have any friends over or go to a friend's house for a week. You're also grounded from video games and TV for a week. Got it?"

Trunks' face turned from a look of fear to an expression of idignity. "WHAT? But Mom that's not fair at all!" He stood up, looking angry now, "You already said I could go to Goten's house after school tomorrow! And we had plans to go to the beach and everything!"

"Well you're the one who decided to wreck the kitchen for fun, and that's your punishment, so you only have yourself to blame." Bulma said closing her eyes and lifting her chin resiliantly into the air.

Trunks growled, "MOM!" Vegeta smacked his son suddenly across the back of the head, causing the boy to grab his head. "HEY!"

"Listen to your mother, brat." He said. He looked to Bulma, expecting to be met with an approving look. Instead he blinked in surprise as his wife suddenly turned on him.

"And YOU--!" She growled basically pushing past Trunks to jab Vegeta angrily in the chest with her finger. Trunks took this opportunity to flee upstairs to his room, leacing only Vegeta to be yelled at. "You don't do one dman thing about the mess in the kitchen and expect ME to clean the whole thing? Well you're WRONG!"

---

Piccolo sat watching Gohan study vigorously at the small desk shoved into the small livingroom of the apartment. He had said no time and time again, but finally agreed to come to Goku's for dinner. He could hear Chi-Chi busy in the kitchen, and Goku was down at the shop trying to get some last minute paperwork done. He wasn't sure where the smaller son, Goten was. He liked Goten well enough, but the small boy seemed to be somewhat scared and shy around him. He also had had a bad experience with him and his little bratty friend. Piccolo tried to vaguely remember his name, but only could remember that it started with a "T" and was very unusual. Despite what his name was, Piccolo knew one thing for sure, and that was that the kid was a little spoiled brat. He seemed almost the opposite of the innocent Goten, who was always polite and well-behaved...on his own.

But whenever the pair got together it was as if the other kid took over and had enough curiosity and troublemaking skills for the both of them. What had happened was the little brat and Goten had played an "innocent" prank on him. Goten was probably still scared of him from that day, which would explain his absense. Piccolo had fallen asleep on the couch in the livingroom of the Son apartment, one time when he was sick and Goku insisted he stay inside till he got better. Thankfully the Namekian had gotten over the worst of his under the weather feelings, and was merely exhausted from the entire ordeal. Usually he was a very light sleeper, but this particular time he had been completely out of it.

It was as if the little purple-haired bugger had known this, too.

While he was asleep, the boys tied his antennae together. When he awoke, he realized his antennae were hurting vaguely, and as he sat up he noticed his reflection in the glass coffee table infront of the couch. Seeing what had happened he twitched in anger, and immediately began to attempt to untie the knot. This was, needless to say, excruiciatingly painful. By the time he finally disattatched them, he was enraged. Finding the boys snickering under the kitchen table, he promtly pulled them both out from under the tablecloth and yelled at them till they were most likely deaf. After he dropped them to the floor they both ran for their lives to Goten and Gohan's small room.

Piccolo shook his head at the memory. He was glad Goahn was older and more mature. He was surprised at the 11-year-old's maturity. He was a cute kid, and playful enough, but when it came to school and real life situations, he was like a 18-year-old in a child's body. He knew that grades were important for his future, and he even did little odd jobs that he could find to help his family's financial situation. It wasn't that the Son's were in EXTREME poverty, but they were a family that had to work constantly to survive. However their apartment was nice enough, though small. Piccolo himself found it cozy and homey, like Goku's antique store. It was old, but kept neat and tidy and in rather good condition by Chi-Chi.

Piccolo wasn't sure exactly how he felt about Chi-Chi. She was nice most times, but he noticed she had a firey temper, and also seemed to push Gohan very hard in school. Which wasn't neccisarily a bad thing...but Piccolo felt the poor kid's childhood was being wasted away with worries of the future. Chi-Chi didn't seem to exactly like him, as if he was a bad influence to her son, and a distraction from his family and studies. And he knew the thought of her child hanging around a homeless hobo who was a reject from society because of his race's horrible history wasn't exactly a positive factor in her eyes.

Piccolo snapped out of his thoughts as the door swung open and Goku entered, looking tired but happy to be home. Piccolo greeted him and Gohan grinned and got up. "Hey dad!" Goku smiled and nodded to Piccolo and walked to Gohan, ruffling his hair."Hey kiddo, how's your homework going?"

"Good, I just finished." Gohan replied. "Mom said dinner will be ready any minute."

"Good, I'm starved! Hey, where's Goten?"

"Uhm, I think he's in our room."

"Ah, well go and get him and tell him dinner's ready."

"'Kay!" Gohan disappeared down the small hallway to retreive his younger sibling.

Goku turned to Piccolo and shook his hand warmly, "Good to see you, buddy. Glad you came. How are you doing?"

"Good, considering." Piccolo replied, shaking his friends' hand.

"Dinner's ready!" Chi-Chi's voice rang from the little kitchen, somewhat demandingly. Piccolo watched as Gohan emerged from the hall, his little brother, which was his father's little look-alike, tailing closely behind him, seeming to try and half-hide himself from the green man's gaze. They all walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, which wasn't tiny, but rather small, and crowded with food, plates, and silverwear. Piccolo bowed his head respectively as the family said their supper time prayer, feeling awkward and out of place. But after the "amen" was pronounced, he felt himself untense and relax. It was good to have friends, even if they were few.

---

Finally the kitchen was spotless again. Trunks was pouting angrily at his situation, as if he had been forced into child-labor. Vegeta was acting grouchy as well. He felt housework was a woman's job. He tossed the mop and bucket back into the closet and walked out of the room grumbling. Trunks watched his father leave and turned to Bulma, with the most innocent face that it was possible for him to muster.

"Mommy..." Bulma looked down to her son, crossing her arms. "I'm really sorry about messing up the kitchen. Please can I go to Goten's tomorrow?"

"I said no already, Trunks." She mumbled turning away ready to go take a shower. She was filthy with a mixture of dirt and sugar and felt sticky.

"But MOM..." Trunks whined following after her. "I have all my stuff ready and everything! You promised!"

"That was before you got yourself into trouble. Now stop pestering, understand?" She walked up the stairs. Trunks still persisted.

"Mooommy, pleeeease. I'll be good and make up the day, I promise!" He pleaded. He blinked, almost running to her as she stopped abruptly in the upstairs hallway and turned to him, fire in her blue eyes.

"Do you want me to have your father give you a spanking?"

"What!" Trunks blinked and immediately shook his head, frowning. "NO!"

"Then stop asking. You're grounded and that's it." She walked into her and Vegeta's bedroom without another word and shut the door. Trunks growled at being denied what he wanted. Usually his mother gave in when he whined and begged, but this time he must of really pushed her too far. Or something else had made her have a bad day, and this had been the icing on the cake. He let out a frustrated yell and walked to his room slamming to door shut to announce his anger.

Bulma heard this but ignored it. Vegeta was sitting on the bed watching TV. She passed him walking to the bathroom, feeling his eyes follow her. She thought drily, 'If you think you're getting anything today, you can think again.' She shut the bathroom door crisply making sure the sound of the lock turning was easily heard. As she washed away the grime of the kitchen her mind wandered over other things. Oddly enough it turned back to the source of her bad mood. That green guy...She mumbled as she lathered her hair with shampoo and said aloud, "What a jerk. I was just trying to help him..."

Bulma rinsed her hair clean, and as she did so, her anger seemed to rinse away from her mind with the shampoo. "I guess it was disrespectful to accuse him of using it to go buy alcohol or something like that with it..." She mumbled feelingher frustrationflare up a little again. "But still I was trying to help." As she turned this over in her mind it occured to her that maybe she could help in a better way tham give him money. She picked up the soap, thinking of how dirty and grimy he had looked. "I bet it's been ages since he's had a shower or a nice warm bath...probably hasn't even slept in a real bed in months..." Bulma frowned at this thought. She felt so sorry for the guy, even if his race had that history...

She blinked feeling another shock of inspiration. "Hey, what if I let him stay here for a little while...get him cleaned up and maybe help him get a job...Hell I could hire him." She thought this over more deeply. Mabe it wasn't a good idea to let some guy in off the street and stay in your home. Yet Vegeta was there to protect them. He'd be able to deal with him if he started trouble. If she could just get him onto his feet untill he had enough money to rent a place of his own, maybe he'd be able to become a productive and accepted member of society. She grinned at her genius and shut off the water, stepped out and drying off herself briskly with a towel.

She walked out of the bathroom wrapped in the towel, humming happily to herself. Vegeta blinked and lifted a brow at this changed mood. "What made you do a 360 all of the sudden?" He asked, watching her walk to the dresser.

"Nothing, just have a new idea for something." She said shortly, getting dressed. She knew it wuld probably be a bad idea to tell this suggestion to Vegeta...she knew for a fact he didn't like Namekians in general, but if she got him over here and trapped Vegeta in the situation, she knew he'd get over it. He might be even more grouchy than usual for a while, but she knew it would all be for the better in the end. She primped her freshly blow-dried hair in the mirror with a grin.

'I'm a genius.'

---

Well there's chapter 2! Hope you guys liked it. I bet you're all curious about what the Namekain race's "bad history" is. Well I promisfe I'll let you guys know in chapter 3! Thanks for reading!