HEY so Sphinx wrote another Chiccolo fic in this universe called "Green Dreams" (this one is NSFW, tread lightly)

Again, amazingly written, check it out:

blackshucksighted . tumblr post / 140660233097 / green-dreams

And for those of you that follow my Tumblr - I told you this was coming.

Chapter 15

"Gohan's Winter Recital"

Chi Chi was rushing to get ready. Her flat iron was running while she blow-dryed her hair, the other hand busily brushing her hair while she shouted at Bulma to help Gohan. The heiress had shown up just the slightest bit early, so she had been immediately put to use as getting the "star of the day" ready.

Her hair was only mildly damp now, so she threw down the dryer and began desperately tugging it through the iron. While it tended to straighten out naturally, Chi Chi felt the need to look her best—after all, if some dean or talent scout happened to be in the crowd, she had to be presentable for her son. She would not have another chance taken from him.

"Little guy's all ready," Bulma hollered, and Chi Chi's shoulders released some of the tension she held. Her eyes locked critically on the mirror, focusing entirely upon the task at hand. Today was going to be stressful—she just knew it.

For one, Goku would be present, and she'd yet to see her husband in over a year. There were butterflies in her stomach at the thought of that, making her feel like a young teenager again. She wanted to be calm, but she couldn't help the adrenaline pumping through her. Goku being present also meant she would have to keep an eye on Bulma, who was extremely ecstatic to be seeing her hero.

Then there was Gohan, who was always a bit unpredictable, if she were being honest. Sometimes he was bashful and nervous around Goku, other times he was completely normal. There had been one time where he'd been a bit mad—but he always calmed down within an hour of Goku's presence.

Thirdly—Junior.

That one was a complete and utterly unknown variable. She didn't know how he would react with all of those people around, if Bulma would harass him, or if he would behave like a civilized human being. He was also a rather large man—meaning Goku would harass him about his workout routines and a possible sparring match. Her husband had a one track mind, and she didn't want that to detract from Gohan's performance.

She had, however, had the presence of mind to text Junior about his attire.

Green Bean

Please tell me you won actual clothes?

Have you ever seen me naked?

Thankfully, no. And you know what I mean.

Fine, damn woman. And yes. I

own actual clothes.

Good. Make yourself presentable.

Eat an eggshell.

Ok—see to humans, that is a lame insult.

Stop being human.

She'd had to stop texting then, as the deadline had been weighing heavily on her. She poked her head out of the bathroom door to glance in the living room, where Gohan sat, his shaggy black hair pulled back and brushed.

Chi Chi was impressed—she had to ask Bulma what she'd done with the boy's hair to tame it like that. The Saiyan in him made his hair unruly and ridiculous—though thankfully it wasn't as ridiculous as Goku's.

Bulma had done him up just perfectly in his little outfit—a white sweater with a big blue snowflake glued in the middle, and a nice pair of black slacks. He also had little ear muffs on, a little blue scarf, and mittens on his hands. He looked like the perfect little winter angel, and Chi Chi suppressed her 'aw'.

Bulma herself was standing next to him, wearing a cashmere sweater dress with red boots. Once she saw Chi Chi poking out of the bathroom, she rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulders. Chi Chi had one moment to yell in surprise, before Bulma had her placed squarely on the toilet seat.

"Wha—!" Chi Chi barely got the word out before Bulma turned and dug into Chi Chi's make up. The room filled with the rustling of cosmetics, before the heiress returned to the surface, each finger fitted with a different tool.

"Trust me, I'm super quick." Bulma began dumping foundation onto Chi Chi, followed swiftly by a pencil being jammed particularly close to her eyes. She shifted in fear as Bulma attacked once more with a mascara stick, and Chi Chi felt the uncomfortable tug from her eyelids. There was a quick swipe against her lips—a red tube flashed by—and Bulma leaned back, gripping Chi Chi's chin as she surveyed her work.

Bulma squealed, and pulled Chi Chi to her feet.

"I'm a genius—also, let me give you a pre-you're welcome."

Chi Chi blinked at the mirror, and she had to admit that Bulma had done a wonderful job. Her eyes popped from her face, dark lashes fanning out to her cheek, highlighting the brown gradient on her eyelids. Bulma had went light on her lips and cheeks, keeping them both a soft pale color that framed her face in the perfect way. Her black hair, usually put up, tumbled freely down her back, hitting the small of it in straight waves.

She felt beautiful, and it had been a long time since she had felt that. Between Gohan, the restaurant, and no husband present to benefit from it, she'd simply stopped putting in the time. Sure, she kept up basic care, but nothing to this level.

Hesitantly, she touched the tips of her fingers to her cheeks, and gave Bulma a wide-eyed stare.

"You look gorgeous," Bulma grinned. "Though I wish you'd let me dress you! You look like a mom!" She motioned in an exasperated fashion at Chi Chi's khaki pants and white blouse.

"I am a mom," Chi Chi returned, eyes lingering on her reflection once more. The woman in the mirror looked foreign to her—something that would never be obtained again. "A proud one, at that."

"Yes, and speaking of! We have to get going!" Bulma got a dreamy look in her eyes, and clasped her hands to her chest. "I'm going to get to see with Goku and P—," she broke off, and nervously glanced at her watch. "People."

Chi Chi arched her brow, and opened her mouth to question her friend. She was interrupted, though, by Bulma's insistence that they needed to get going. Spurred into action, she rushed out of the bathroom, and hastily began stuffing things they would need into her purse. She paused only to give and receive compliments with Gohan, before all three were bustling out the door.

They all climbed in to Bulma's sleek red car, Chi Chi ensuring seatbelts were buckled ("Yes! Even you Bulma!"), before she glanced to the right. Junior's car was still stationary, but she could see the light on up in his apartment.

Gohan seemed to sense her gaze, for just as Bulma began backing out, he questioned it.

"Mr. Junior is coming—right?" Gohan's voice had a quaver to it, and Chi Chi could see that his fingers were knotted nervously together in his lap.

"He said he was, baby. I just texted him not that long ago."

"And dad…?"

Chi Chi hesitated. "Last time I spoke to him, it was still a go." She'd learned long ago not to make promises. In the backseat, Gohan settled down, though he was staring out the window with a sincere intensity.

"I'm really excited," Gohan was attempting to cheer himself up, Chi Chi knew. "Mr. Junior's helped me so much with all of my songs! He smiles whenever we sing together, mom." He leaned forward, enthusiastically pawing at her shoulder. She turned and placed a hand over his, giving him a large smile.

"Seeing Mr. Junior smile is pretty rare, huh?" Chi Chi chuckled.

"Mm! But, he's more likely if we're in the shop. I think he might have a beauty complex."

Chi Chi snorted, and exchanged a bewildered glance with Bulma.

"What makes you think that?"

"Okay, well, Videl—," and Chi Chi sighed at that name. She was cropping up in plenty of Gohan's stories as of late. The little girl had apparently decided it was her honor bound duty to protect Gohan, though Chi Chi didn't approve of her methods. "Videl says that societal beauty is bogus, and that her daddy lets her chop off all of her hair and wear superhero stuff because like—," he wrinkled up his nose in thought, "um, something about her defining herself. It's really cool when Videl talks about it. Especially because she just got a new haircut—it's super short, and her dad let her get a red streak in! Our teacher tried to get Videl in trouble, but she said her dad… 'put the pressure on' our teacher."

Chi Chi pressed her fingers to her temple. Why did her baby boy have to befriend so many weird people? She glanced at her phone, then, desperately hoping for a text. There was no new message from Goku or Junior, which meant neither of them had canceled.

Good.

Gohan took up his spot on the stage. He and Videl were the shortest ones in class, so they'd been shoved up front. His glance slid nervously to his friend, where she quickly gave him a thumbs up and gave him a soft punch to the arm. He tried to return the smile, but he was struggling.

Beside him, Videl clicked a button in her sleeve, and suddenly her Christmas sweater was lit up. Gohan had to squint his eyes up at the excessive lights—they were all bright red, flickering around snowflakes and guitars. Videl patted her chest, and smirked.

"Dad had it made special for me!"

"I-I can tell…" Gohan giggled, but their music teacher was at the front of the stage now. She was speaking to all of the parents, introducing the children and their program. He sucked in a deep breath, and cast his gaze across the crowd.

Ah! There was his mother. She was sitting there, a video camera in her hands. Bulma must have given it to her, as the two women were crowded around it, desperately clicking buttons. He looked to the side and…

Neither Junior or Goku were there yet.—Perhaps they were running late? His palms were growing sweaty, and he found it harder to breath. Desperately he tried to calm himself down, but he could already feel tears bunching up at the corners of his eyes.

They started their first song, but Gohan's voice was cracking, so he faded off. Slowly, his lips formed the words, though he didn't even bother to match his voice to it. Part of him worried that someone would notice, and part of him said that nobody cared.

And that was what he listened to.

Chi Chi was a shaking, fiery mess. She didn't know if she'd ever had so much rage and agony burning through her. It had taken everything in her to not breakdown the same way Gohan had done. They hadn't even stayed through the whole performance—during the intermission, when the older kids were set to come on, Gohan hadn't been able to recuperate himself.

Bulma and Chi Chi both wrapped arms around the child and spirited him out to the car, keeping his sobbing red face hidden from his peers. There was no reason for anyone else to know what was happening.

Once in the car, Chi Chi had picked up the camera with shaking fingers, and hit delete on the video. There was no way in hell she was keeping that… that face. The face of a child who'd just been utterly devastated. Everything that he'd been so excited for had fallen down around him, and it had been clear from their seats.

Even Bulma was uncharacteristically silent, fingers tight against the steering wheel as she drove them home. She'd offered to let them come home with her, just to distract them from everything, but Chi Chi had turned her down. The heiress seemed upset as well, and Chi Chi attributed that to realizing that sometimes your heroes weren't perfect.

Two people had learned that lesson today.

By the time they got home, she was shaking. Junior's car was parked there like a big, infected sore. Not a second had ticked by before Gohan was in more hysterics, and Bulma had begun rushing him up the stairs. Chi Chi had half a mind to go tearing up there and rip Junior apart limb from limb—if only because the other perpetrator wasn't present—but right now, her baby needed her.

Bulma helped her calm Gohan down enough to put him into his pajamas, before taking her leave.

"Vegeta keeps texting me," the heiress had grumbled, which earned her a confused look from Chi Chi. "I'll explain another time." Then she'd left, while a sniffling Gohan lay in a pathetic heap in his bed. His blankets were drawn up to his chin, and Chi Chi was patting down to his hair, slowly combing her fingers through it.

This night had been a wreck, but she meant to be strong. There was no way in hell either of those men were getting away with this, unless they were dead. And—if they happened to be out of mortal peril, she'd be glad to put them in it. She was angry, disgusted, and all together—well, there wasn't a strong enough word to describe what she felt in that moment.

"Mommy…" Gohan's voice was cracked, and he'd slipped into his baby-voice. She could literally feel the weight of the world crash onto her shoulders. "Why… why doesn't daddy love us?"

Chi Chi would rather have been stabbed. She felt her own doubts swimming to the surface, but she quelled them all. Now wasn't the time for her own personal feelings. The most important thing, that took precedence over all, was that she was a mother.

"Daddy does love us," she murmured, keeping her voice calm despite the raging torrent of emotion inside. Slowly, she pressed her shaking lips to his forehead, praying he didn't notice. "It's just… he's not always the most… disciplined."

Gohan sat in silence for just a moment longer, before he broke into a new, rougher sob. His throat sounded ripped. "What about… what about Mr. Junior?"

Chi Chi set her jaw. "I don't know why he didn't come. I do intend to find out."

Gohan gave a slow nod, and finally acquiesced to laying down. When she parted from him, she immediately went downstairs. Part of her thought about the stories Goku's grandpa used to tell them about—of fierce aura that surrounds fighters, lending them strength. She imagined that she had that now, fueling her as she stormed over to her neighbor's apartment.

Her hand slammed into the door (doors are always unlocked) and made her way upstairs. She passed all of the sentimental pictures until she came to Junior's bedroom. The door was rammed with all of her might, and she stumbled into the room, righting herself as her gaze locked onto Junior.

His back was to her, but she could still see his large frame bent over his knees. A laptop was placed in front of him, and these scene felt eerily familiar. The only thing different was that the screen was blank, and Junior was in actual black slacks, with a purple dress shirt tucked into them. It looked far too tight and uncomfortable as it stretched across his wide shoulders.

Unconsciously, Chi Chi curled her hand into a fist.

"So you got dressed—but you couldn't actually be bothered to show up?"

Her voice was high and shrill—Goku had dubbed it her "uh-oh!" voice—but she didn't care. She knew that her cheeks would be flushed an ugly red, however Bulma's makeup would be covering that right now. And what a shame, too. She wanted it to be very clear just how pissed she was.

"What the hell is that matter with you?! I hope you're proud of yourself! Gohan has been in absolute hysterics the entire night! He was counting on you, waiting on you, and you let him down again! You always do this and—," her voice cracked, and Junior actually turned to look at her.

"Sure all of that was meant for me?" he rumbled, and Chi Chi sucked in a deep breath. There was something off about his face and voice.

"Don't twist this, you're still a bastard! And Gohan was so excited! Why didn't you just tell him you wouldn't come, why did—,"

"My father called me." Junior twisted his head back around to the blank computer screen. "I was getting ready to leave, when my cousin told me he had to speak to me real quick." She saw his shoulders flex. "I was an idiot and listened."

Chi Chi stilled.

"Trust me, I would rather have watched the kid's show."

"Then why didn't you?" Chi Chi knew she was being a bit unfair. A man's sick father would normally have to come before his neighbor's kid. But—well, this was Gohan. And without Goku present, there was no one else to lash out on.

Junior made a noise akin to a grunt.

"Fine. Don't expect Gohan over at your place anymore. The moment he stops crying I'll make sure he knows." Chi Chi turned, and she heard Junior stand up behind her. The bed springs creaked in defiance, his footsteps heavy as he came up behind her. Something sent off alarms in her head. She turned sharply, just as his looming figure rose above her.

Chi Chi stared defiantly up at him, his face twisted into a grimace. Beyond his shoulder she saw the photo strip from the arcade taped on the wall. It was the only thing there that seemed to belong to him.

"Well, are you going to attempt to explain yourself?"

"He was completely delirious." Junior's voice was entirely too bland, completely and utterly devoid of any emotion. "The old man kept rambling on about how he couldn't wait for me to finish what he'd started. Then he—," the Namekian stopped there, and dug into his pocket. Chi Chi stared in confusion at his hand, until she realized what he pulled out.

"Is that a cigarette?" She demanded, voice rising into new octaves. Junior grimaced at her words, before clicking the lighter he'd dredged out as well. "No! You will do no such thing! Not while I'm present!"

"It calms me down!" Junior snapped, long fingers tightening around the tip of his stick. Chi Chi met his glare, though, and he threw them across the room with a quick curse. "Fine. I don't even need the damn things."

Chi Chi continued to stare at him, mouth set in a thin line.

"He threatened to hurt my cousin if he didn't get to speak to me soon. Kept asking me all these damn questions about when I'd be home—what I'd done recently—if I was any closer to avenging him…" Junior was clearly agitated now, and he'd step away from Chi Chi. He'd begun fidgeting just in the slightest bit, and set up a brisk pace around his room.

She couldn't really understand what the hell he was talking about. Vengeance and threatening a family member?

He finally paused again, and seemed to look directly at the photo strip. She could just barely see the images; each were Gohan's huge beaming face, the only difference was the background, where she and Junior were squabbling.

"The whole thing pissed me off."

"Did it piss you off, or did it hurt you?" Chi Chi bit her lip when she said the words, and regretted them. She was here to yell at him, to cuss him out, to make him feel bad for the tears her baby had shed over him.

But—

"You know, Milk, you just always have to ask questions, don't you?" Junior turned and gave her an odd look, before scratching angrily at his antennae. "It's not important…" His voice trailed off, and he crossed his arms.

Chi Chi fiddled, standing in the doorway to his bedroom as she searched for something to say. Normally she was quick, but right now, nothing that came to mind sounded right. She wanted to be angry, though she knew this wasn't the situation.

"I—you can still see Gohan." She chose instead, turning away quickly when his eyes set on hers. "If he's willing. I can explain the situation to him if you'd like…?"

"I can tell him myself," Junior rumbled, and Chi Chi gave a hesitant nod.

"Only if he wants to see you."

"Only if he wants to see me."

Chi Chi pursed her lips, and rubbed nervously at her arms. "I'm… I'm sorry?"

"Is that a question?" Junior's antennae twitched.

"No," she snapped, feeling her cheeks flame up once more. Her eyes slid downwards, trying not to focus on his face. Instead she stared at his feet. The pants were far too big, and she thought about telling him so. "I'm sorry that I… lashed out on you. Part of that was… My husband he…" Nervously, she pressed the heel of her palm into her mouth.

Junior's lips slanted downwards. "He didn't show, did he?"

Chi Chi couldn't remember if she answered him or not, with how faint she felt.

"So the kid had two jackasses in his life today." Junior groaned, and stormed past Chi Chi, earning a startled noise from her. She shot after him, until they were on the stairs.

"Where the hell are you going?" she demanded, having to move twice as fast to match the Namekian's long strides.

"To your apartment—get your keys out." Junior's voice was brusque, and Chi Chi finally managed to get him to stop right at the front door.

"Hold it—what the hell are you thinking of doing?" she demanded, ignoring the frustrated look he gave her.

"What the hell does it look like?" he snarled. "You said the kid was up there in goddamned hysterics! I'm going up there, now."

Chi Chi stared up at him, and set her jaw. "What happens the next time Gohan has a performance?"

"I'll be there."

"How can you know?"

"Because I do."

Chi Chi sighed, and dug into her pocket, grabbing her keys. She plugged them into the lock. She lead Junior up into the apartment, the man making a beeline for Gohan's bedroom door. Again she was forced to speed up her steps, keeping in pace with him.

He'd jerked open the door, allowing her room to spill in after him. They both stood there, greeted by a wide-eyed Gohan. The little boy had been scrubbing at his eyes, face puffy as he sat in his bed. His eyes shifted nervously between the two, but they remained focused on Junior. The hurt was clear.

Junior looked around the room, before grabbing one of Gohan's little chairs. He positioned it to face the bed, and plunked down on it, body comically folded up on itself. His knees jammed into his chest as his elbows splayed out at a funky angle.

Chi Chi and Gohan both watched him, jaws open at the same angle.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Junior?" Gohan demanded, voice broken off by the sniffles and suppressed sobs.

Junior growled deep in his throat, and Chi Chi saw the purple flush across his features.

"I'm here to watch your recital."

"What?" Both mother and son interjected at the same time, and Gohan scrunched up his nose in confusion.

"I said I'm here to watch your recital."

"Then why didn't you come see me?" Gohan's voice was drenched with accusations as he regarded the Namekian. "You and dad d-didn't…." His eyebrows scrunched together, and more tears poured down his face. Chi Chi hurriedly rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him.

"Baby… Mr. Junior he…" she stopped, looking desperately at Junior to explain.

"No!" Gohan screamed, and Chi Chi looked down in surprise. "No! I'm tired of adults acting like they care when you don't! You don't! You and daddy can both—can both—," his breathing was shuttered, while Junior sat there. Once Gohan's sobs had quieted again, the Namekian spoke.

"My father is dying."

Gohan had buried his face in Chi Chi's chest, but he now hesitated, fingers knotted up in the fabric of her nice blouse. He turned, slowly, to look at Junior. The gulp he gave was audible, and it was clear his attention was devoted now.

"I had to talk to him. He's not entirely there." Junior shifted, still looking completely ridiculous, despite the heavy subject matter. Slowly, Gohan slid away from Chi Chi, and took a few tentative steps towards Junior. She saw the Namekian stiffen.

"You didn't… you didn't miss because… because you don't like me?" Gohan's lip was trembling, and it pained her how much her son was seeking validation. It should already be there in his life!

Junior rested his hand atop Gohan's head, ruffling the hair there.

"Kid, if there was anyone in the world that annoyed me the least—it would be you." Junior's mouth twisted into a smile, and Chi Chi tightened her fingers around the blankets beneath her. Sitting there, in his nice dress shirt, smiling down at Gohan, he almost looked like a father. It was the least ugly she'd ever seen him…

Gohan's slowly beamed a watery grin, before clambering onto Junior's lap. His arms were flung around the Namekain's neck, and she could see trails of tears being left across green skin. Junior mumbled some sort of complaint, but placed a steadying hand on Gohan's back.

The little boy hung there, and mumbled into Junior's neck. "I'm sorry about your dad… are you sad?"

"No," Junior grunted, and shifted. "But that's not important. You're going to put on your show."

"What?" Gohan released Junior, toes touching down on the carpet. "How can I?"

Junior motioned at the carpet in front of him. "There's your stage, kid. I worked too damn hard on helping you practice those songs not to hear 'em in action." Gohan blinked several times, before glancing at his mom.

"M-mom… can I… can I put my sweater and stuff back on?"

Chi Chi smiled, and resisted the urge to cry. It had been really strong today.

"Yeah, honey. They're on the very top of the basket. Go grab them." Chi Chi watched as he rushed out of the room, before grabbing another small chair. She placed it next to Junior's, and looked cautiously at him. "Thank-you," she whispered.

Junior gave her a strange look. There was a moment of silence, while the two listened to Gohan rummaging around in the other room. "I had every intention of going," he finally said, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"I believe you," Chi Chi said, hands folded in her lap. She fidgeted. "This was a good idea… he didn't put on the performance at school. He wasn't actually singing, and we left early…"

Junior grunted.

"I'm serious, though… I really… Gohan means everything to me."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Oh, shut up. Gohan means the world to me, and it means a lot that you're doing this for him." Chi Chi felt some emotion well up in her chest, and she extended her hand out, placing it on Junior's. He did his usual huff and gruff, but she smiled through it, and he finally settled down. When she pulled her hand back, she couldn't help but wonder over the swooping sensation rocketing through her.

Part of her felt guilty—the other giddy.

Gohan came in, then, eyes still puffy. He was doing his best to keep up a bright demeanor, though, and happily stood on his tiptoes at the front of the room. He announced the start of the recital, then launched into song.

Chi Chi couldn't keep the smile off of her face, and when she looked to Junior, she saw the tiniest one there, too.

Chapter

"Outside Looking In"

Goku didn't have the best grasp on a lot of situations. He tended to fall a bit behind when it came to handling people. It wasn't that he didn't care, really! it was just that sometimes he didn't quite connect things the way he ought to. His grandpa had tried real hard to push that—hell, him and Chi Chi getting together had been an extension of that—but Goku still struggled.

However, he did know that when Yamcha held the phone a decided distance away from his ear, and an all too familiar scream was coming from within, that he was in deep, deep shit.

He gulped as his friend handed him the phone, and his eardrums were immediately assaulted. It was hard to make out specifics sometimes, when Chi Chi really got going, but he got the general gist of it. Groaning, he pressed the palm of his hand to his face. Chi Chi quieted on the other end of the line.

"See—Cheech, I kept thinkin' I forgot somethin', y'know? I meant to write it down and—," more screaming, which earned a couple of chortles from his friends. He shot them an agitated look. "—All right, but hear me out Cheech—yeah I know not to call you that when you're mad but—yeah I know not to interrupt and—well, yeah but—,"

He sat and listened, eyes downcast as his wife went on. Chi Chi was terrifying when angry, and he was really glad he didn't have to see her face to face for this particular moment. Goku did feel bad, after all—he hadn't meant to miss Gohan's recital! But some guy had challenged him, and he'd looked really strong, so Goku had made a small detour. He'd won the fight, but unfortunately he'd also had to go to the hospital directly afterwards.

Something told him that wouldn't make Chi Chi any more sympathetic.

"How is the little guy?" Goku finally managed to get in, and Chi Chi said something very rude and un-Chi Chi-like. That wasn't a good sign. "Well, can I talk to him?—Who's Mr. Junior?" He frowned, brow puckering. It was odd that Chi Chi was willingly letting Gohan go to someone else's place. Hell—one time, when they still lived with Chi Chi's dad, he'd let Gohan run down to the creek by himself, and Chi Chi had lost it.

His friends were growing restless, clearly looking to move on to the next city. They'd been in the process of packing up bags now that Goku had been released from the hospital. He needed to be a responsible dad, though!

"Tell him to call me later, okay?" Goku prompted, and Chi Chi finally relented. She was still incredibly pissed, but she seemed ready to be off the phone. He was a little sad. It had been an awful long time since he'd seen Gohan or Chi Chi.

Frowning, he hung up his phone, and pocketed it into his sweatpants. He grabbed a few of the suitcases lying around, and slung them over his shoulder.

"Old ball and chain gettin' you down?" Yamcha snickered, Krillin and Tien joining in. He shot all of them a pointed glare.

"She's not a ball and chain," Goku retorted. "Just upset. So's Gohan."

"You know it's hard to keep up a family with our occupation," Yamcha replied evenly, cat carrier in hand. Puar could be heard inside, rattling against the edges.

"Yeah…" Goku sighed, heading out to the van. "I know."

Bulma yawned, padding down to the kitchen as she scrubbed at her eye. Last night's makeup came off in a big streak across her knuckles, which she regarded lazily. Her hair was a big, poofy rat's nest around her head that she hadn't bothered to fix.

So it was no surprise to her when she entered the room, that Vegeta choked on his toast in a rush to point and laugh at her. His loud guffaws bounced off the ceiling, and she rolled her eyes heavenward as she made her way to the fridge. Her robe was tucked tight around her, and she cinched it more as she bent to look for food.

"A raccoon digging around—wouldn't the trash can be more convenient?" Bulma's biggest regret was getting Vegeta comfortable enough to talk. When he'd first arrived at her home, he'd been morose, sullen, and grumpy. However, she'd slowly been edging him out of his cocoon… to blossom disgustingly into the little dickfly that he was.

She almost missed his aggravated glares and discomfiting silences.

"Yes, yes, good morning to you, too," Bulma yawned, dragging out an old pizza. Sure—she was a beautiful, fantastically rich woman who could have anything she wanted. But something about late nights made her want cold pizza.

She leaned back against the counter, popping open the top of the box. She gladly began shoveling a slice into her mouth. Vegeta was staring at her, so she quickly opened her mouth, flashing him chewed up mush.

"You are disgusting!" he snarled, waving a disgusted hand at her.

"Wow how did you mess up the word 'gorgeous' that badly—I mean, I really feel sorry for someone as stupid as you." Bulma made sure she said all of this with a mouthful of food, watching Vegeta cringe in disgust at her.

He began haughtily eating his own breakfast, which Bulma gave a critical stare.

"How the hell did you get toast, bacon, eggs, and pancakes? There's no way in hell you made all that on your own. Last week you almost burned the goddamned place down making hotdogs." Bulma crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes.

Vegeta sneered at her. "Shows what you know, woman. I am a master of many skills and—,"

"Oh, honey! You're up!" Bunny Briefs entered the room, apron already on as she maintained her cheery expression. "If I'd known you would be up so soon, I would have made extra breakfast for you! I wish you wouldn't eat junk food so early!"

Bulma gave Vegeta a rather dry look. He quickly turned his head away from her, burying himself in his food once more. Bunny began moving around the kitchen, cleaning things even though Bulma and her father were always telling the woman not to. It was like she didn't know what to do if she wasn't caring for her family.

Unfortunately, it also meant that Bulma couldn't harass Vegeta further on the topic she really wanted. His obsession with Son Chi Chi still had yet to be explained—every once in a while, when he caught her leaving for work, he would chase her out to her car, demanding that she bring home leftovers from the restaurant.

She'd done it one time, but when he found out that Bulma had made it, he had thrown it in the trash.

Needless to say, she hadn't been in the "helping mood" since.

At one point, she'd wondered if he was just some creep that wanted to sleep with her boss, but one time she'd casually asked about it, she thought Vegeta would throw up on her.—Harsh, and she'd promptly kicked his chair out from underneath him.

Of course, she wasn't going to wait for his express permission to learn stuff, and had started doing research into the Cold family. Her family had dealt with them, so she'd pulled up old records and went sleuthing from there. All that she'd gotten though, was that in '90, Vegeta had been legally adopted into the Cold's crew.

That was the extent of her research—though she was going to get the rest of it out. Bulma Briefs was many things—really, the list of wondrous things was too long—but a quitter was not one of them. She was seeing this through, she just had to wait for her mother's departure.

Bulma was certain a weird friendship was forming between her and Vegeta, especially with his prolonged stay at her house. The fact that he was staying so long was indicative of that, so far as Bulma was concerned.

She glanced at the clock. Chi Chi would be wanting her in soon, and she wanted to see her friend as it was. After the recital debacle, she'd been all but ready to rip down the numerous posters she had of Goku and Ma Junior from her walls—but a text had stopped her. Chi Chi had been thoughtful enough to reassure Bulma that Gohan was all right, and she'd explain later.

The posters had stayed ("for now," Bulma had told herself) until she heard what her friend had to say. It had been absolutely beautiful and bizarre in one go to hear about 'Junior' attending a private recital. She couldn't quite wrap her head around that…

Bulma bit her lip, and left the kitchen to go get ready.

When she finally got out to her car, she saw that Vegeta was leaning against it, burly arms crossed as he regarded her. He was wearing clothes that looked suspiciously new—she really had to talk to her mother, Vegeta was not a pet to play with and dress up!—and his normal scowl on his face as she approached.

"Vegeta, what the hell do you want?" Bulma already knew the answer, but she figured she'd humor him, just in case.

"I want you to bring home left—,"

"No," Bulma interrupted, voice flat as she spun her keys and headed towards the driver side door. Vegeta jumped, rear end sliding across her hood as he quickly positioned himself between her and her car. Her face became a tempest as she glowered at him.

"Bring home leftovers," Vegeta snapped, hands forming fists as he glared up at her. His diminutive size worked to her advantage whenever they were having tiffs, and she used it to the fullest extent.

"You won't tell me why the hell you want Chi Chi's food so bad!" Bulma huffed. "Why should I help you? You just insult mine!"

Vegeta's cheeks puffed slightly as he attempted to be reigning in his aggravation.

"Dammit, woman, why won't you just work with me!"

"You haven't given me a reason too," Bulma retorted, blue brows descending upon her brow as she bent just the tiniest bit lower. "Tell me why you keep trying to get the stuff, and maybe I'll bring you some."

Vegeta glowered, rising to all of his five foot glory as he shook with suppressed rage. He finally took a calming breath, and muttered something angrily under his breath.

Smirking, Bulma cupped her hand around her ear. "S'cuse me, what was that?"

Vegeta pressed his lips into a thin line. "When Goku defeated me… I asked what made him stronger. He said it was his wife's cooking."

Bulma stared blankly at him.

He crossed his arms angrily, and jutted his jaw out. "What? The hell are you looking at? I'm not saying I need the goddamned food—it's just that… that dumbass Son Goku shouldn't be that strong! So—,"

Bulma held up a hand, and felt a bit of pity well up in her. She knew better than to express it, though, as Vegeta already looked homicidal at having to share this much.

"Are you… sure that's exactly what Goku said?" Bulma tried instead.

Vegeta scoffed. "Of course. That big, dopey idiot just started scratching at his head, prattling on about his wife's cooking and all the good it did!" the man threw his arms angrily in the air. "I'm at a wall, though, dammit! I'm not strong enough, and my training is doing nothing!" He turned his highest level glare on Bulma.

She softened, just the tiniest bit. "I'll bring you some of Son Chi Chi's cooking, okay?"

"None of your shit, right?"

"Why would you be rude—right now—when I'm helping you, you little twerp."

Gohan had his crayons splayed across the desk, and Videl popped up curiously behind him. Her chin rested against his head, buried in all of the black hair as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"Whatcha doin'?" Videl asked, staring at the messy, glittery mess in front of her. If she squinted just right, she was pretty certain that she could pretend it was heart shaped. Maybe. If Gohan asked and he looked really sad.

Gohan shook her off, and she obliged, taking a seat beside him. Their art teacher had assigned them the task of making a present for someone special in their lives. Videl had promptly cut out a picture of her dad, pasted it on a piece of cardboard, and called it quits. She knew her dad would love it—he might even frame it.

Her friend, however, was pouring his heart and soul into whatever he was doing, so it piqued her interest. She propped her cheek up on her fist, eyeballing his work. He made one final stroke on the paper, and grinned at Videl.

"This is for Mr. Junior!" he enthused, lifting up his art work. Videl tried squinting again, but got distracted by all the glitter that cascaded down, some of it landing squarely in her eye. Grumbling, she started rubbing to get it out.

"Who's that?"

"You know—my neighbor! The one that scared the bullies away!"

Videl grimaced. "You mean the flower guy? Ew." She'd heard lots of stories about Mr. Junior, but she chose to ignore them. Any person that looked after flowers their whole lives—as a job no less—was a pansy, and Videl had no interest. Unless Gohan went into the business, then she'd punch anyone who said otherwise. Videl's moral compass was a little broken.

At least, that was what one of her babysitter's had said.

"He's not ew," Gohan huffed. "He's super cool! Even when my dad didn't bother to show up…" his voice trailed off, and Videl hurriedly patted Gohan on the arm.

"Hey, it's fine. I'll punch your dad really good when I see him, okay?" Videl made sure Gohan made direct eye contact, then pulled a face so that he'd giggle. Really, Videl was proud of how good she was at this whole 'best friends' gig.

"I'm fine," Gohan assured her, before continuing. "Anyways, Mr. Junior let me put on my own private recital." He beamed, whole face lighting up. "He said other kids are stupid and annoying—and that I'm the person he hates the least." Gohan said that last bit with emphasis, so that Videl understood that this was the greatest honor that could be bestowed by Mr. Junior.

"Whatever," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "So what did you make him?"

Gohan shook the art once more, and Videl made sure to close her eyes for a safe five seconds. She made sure she counted real slow and everything, so she was a little aggravated at the amount of sparkles that still got into her eye.

"This is Planet Namek!"

"Innit s'posed to be green?"

"Well… Sharpner took all the green construction paper."

"Want me to go get it for you?"

"No—no, it's fine!" Gohan shook his head. "Anyways, it's Namek, and it says 'I LOVE YOU MR. JUNIOR'." He was grinning, so Videl just had to lie and compliment it. Luckily, she was pretty good at that.

The teacher announced that they were to head back to their main class now, and they started clean up. Videl watched as Gohan happily cradled his Planet Namek to his chest, and she resisted the urge to hug him. She'd first met Gohan through his bullying problem, and she'd made it her prerogative since then to make sure nobody ever messed with him again.

Videl liked to think of herself as a superhero against wrong-doing—and that included helping those less fortunate. Sure, Videl had vigilante ways, but she was protecting those that couldn't protect themselves, and she felt like that made it okay.

She and Gohan were headed back to class, and she grabbed his hand.

"Hey, my birthday's next month—it's gonna be a slumber party." Videl grinned, and Gohan gave her his attention. "Don't forget to ask your mom if you can come over. My dad's gonna play some of his old tournament tapes!"

"Wasn't your dad a super good fighter?" Gohan asked, face open as he looked at her.

"Yeah!" Videl grinned. "Though, he never did fight your dad. Which sucks! I want to know who's stronger!" At the mention of his father, Gohan's mood mellowed out, and Videl kicked herself. "Oh! He's also got tapes of other fighter's. My favorite was Ma Junior. He's so cool."

"That name sounds familiar… who is he?" Gohan replied. His knowledge of the tournament fighters only extended to his father and the friends that he kept near him. Videl knew from stories that Chi Chi was rather strict on what Gohan could watch.

She jumped in excitement, gripping his hand tighter. "Well—he's a Namekian like your neighbor, but he's totally not dorky and lame. Instead of flowers, he's sells butt-whoopins, and it's super rad." This was Videl's favorite fighter. He wasn't around for as long as some of the others, but that didn't dampen her enthusiasm.

Gohan gave her an odd look as they entered the main classroom, filing into their seats.

"I dunno, I think Mr. Junior sounds way cooler than him."

"But Gohan!" Videl gasped. "Ma has these really cool tattoos, piercings, and he wears leather jackets and stuff! He's totally awesome!"

Gohan shook his head, glancing happily down at his Planet Namek.

"Nobody's as cool as Mr. Junior."

The kids were interrupted as their teacher drew everyone's attention to the board. Videl tuned her out, until she got to the most exciting bit.

"The parent-child fishing trip is coming up," the teacher said, writing down dates on the board. "Make sure you talk to your guardians about coming, and get these permission slips signed. We're going to be heading to the Dragonwell river, where we'll be accompanied by a local Environmentalist Manager who is going to help us classify fish and learn about them. We'll be using barbless hooks, while the scientist tags them."

The teacher paused, looking from Videl to Sharpner as she spoke. "You will not be personally handling fish. We will leave that to the professionals, so as not to stress them out." Videl pouted—touching the fish was her favorite part. Her father always let her help him whenever they caught them. "This is strictly for learning."

Videl glanced to the side, and saw Gohan's morose look. She sighed. Gohan had told her all about when he was younger, with his father taking him out fishing by his grandpa's creek. She wanted him to stop reminiscing, and being sad.

But Videl just didn't know how.

Gohan got home, and handed Chi Chi the permission slip. He let his backpack drop to the ground, just to hear his mother make a small noise at the back of her throat. He'd just gotten back from Porunga's Post, but he could already feel his mother moving closer.

"Hey, baby, your dad's… he wants to talk to you." Chi Chi handed him the phone, and Gohan felt it press into the palm of his hand. He stared at it, aware of how cool it was as he put it to his ears.

"Hiya, Gohan!" Goku's voice was bright and cheery on the other side of the phone. "Sorry about the recital!" Gohan felt like there was water rushing around his ears. "But what's new with you?"

"There's a field trip coming up…" Gohan mumbled, still feeling that odd sensation building. He could hear Chi Chi rustling the paper around, obviously reading it.

"Oh, wow! What's it for?"

"A fishing trip…"

"Gee, that's cool. Maybe I could come to town for that, just like old time!" Goku sounded too happy, and Gohan felt his grip on the phone tighten. He recognized the feeling now. It was a desperate want to hurt. He wanted Goku to not sound like he didn't care that he was miles away from his family. Wanted Goku to respond negatively to something!

"Actually, dad," Gohan's voice was really loud, artificially nonchalant. He could feel Chi Chi still behind him. "I think I'm going to ask Mr. Junior to go!" He tried to mimic his father's buoyant tone and it hurt. "He's been here a lot for me and mom here lately, y'know. I also made him an art project, to pay him back. We had to make something for someone who was really important to us—isn't that cool?" Gohan faked a lap, but he felt like he was going to cry. Or be sick.

"Gohan!" Chi Chi's voice was astonished behind him, and Gohan dropped the phone. He didn't want to be here right now. Ignoring the sound of his mother behind him, he ran to his room. He dove, face first, into the mound of pillows.

Gohan made sure he didn't cry.

Please let me know what you think - reviews are always loved and are wonderful.