Chapter

"Cat Stance"

Junior felt as if his stomach had been completely and utterly turned inside out. This tiny woman—who usually looked completely insignificant in her capris and apron—was now standing in a perfect cat stance, eyes alight with a fire that he'd never seen before.

A grin split his features as he lunged forward, watching her as she dipped back, and swung low. His fist came fast, but he pulled the punch, just barely touching her shoulder. Chi Chi made a disgusted noise, before ramming her heel into his jaw.

Blinking, Junior stumbled back, opening his mouth as he attempted to work feeling back into it.

"If you're not going to take this seriously," Chi Chi huffed, eyebrows contracting over her furious gaze, "then there's no point."

Junior stared at her, setting his hurt jaw. "Fine," he snarled, but inside he was thoroughly impressed. "Let's do this." He rolled his shoulders, hearing the pop. Fuck this—and fuck her perfect stances, shapely legs attracting his attention.

He jumped to the right, drawing her attention before sliding to his knees. On the ground he pivoted forward, grasping her ankle as he dragged her down. Chi Chi yelped, leading with her elbow, which he allowed to crash down on his skull.

His teeth rattled, but he jerked, her feet coming flying up from beneath her.

Junior was aggravated when he saw her hands touch the mat, before she cocked her leg back and sent him reeling back with a kick. Her waist twisted, and she somersaulted backwards, landing on her feet. Junior glared up at her.

"I told you—take this seriously." Chi Chi grinned as he sat on the mat. Right now, she was so confident. She hadn't even broken into a sweat, but all of her muscles stood out from the tension she held. Junior didn't know what that warm feeling creeping up through him was—all he knew was that this woman standing above him made him feel things that he wasn't going to be able to peruse anytime soon.

"Fine," he grunted, and rose to his feet. His shoulders rolled, and Junior kicked out, landing a soft tap against Chi Chi's stomach. It more startled her than anything, causing her to jump back. Using her shock to his advantage, Junior shifted quickly, moving behind her. He heard her shout, but he had already grasped both of her arms, jammed his knee into the back of hers, and shoved down to the ground.

Chi Chi put up a fight, rocking her head back to smash against his nose. Junior snarled, worried that he was going to bleed, and bore all of his weight down on the woman. There was a small noise of protest, but she couldn't uphold him.

Her face hit the mat, and he pressed, hips against her backside. Underneath him, Chi Chi was squirming, back arching as she griped.

"You big oaf! You're supposed to spar, not crush me!" Chi Chi glared at him over her shoulder, and Junior felt a thrill rush through him. His hold on her arms weakened, and she finally bucked up enough to slam her head against his jaw—again.

With a triumphant laugh, Chi Chi bowled him over, straddling his stomach. Her hands pressed down against his forearms, panting above him.

"See—anybody can pin," she smirked, and Junior panicked. Not that she had him pinned down, or beaten—no, he wasn't some infallible fighter. Of course he'd been beaten before. But he'd never been beaten by a tiny (attractive) woman that proceeded to straddle him and smile like that.

Teenage fantasies swam to his mind as he tried desperately not to think too much about this.

It was Milk!

Gohan's mom!

He did call you daddy—what's one more step closer to that? Junior decided that his mind was a traitorous piece of shit.

Chi Chi—no, Milk, was giving him an odd look now.

From her perspective, he was just sitting there, practically comatose while she gloated. He wondered if his face had purpled yet. It was an eternal curse that it happened to him at all. Namekians had green skin, and they still couldn't manage to get rid of blushing.

"It's nothing," he finally grunted, and sat up, sending Chi Chi sliding down to rest on his lap. His face came uncomfortably close to hers, and he could feel her breath against his face. Junior watched her lick her lips, and he mimicked the motion on himself.

"Okay…" Chi Chi shifted—and oh God please do not notice— "Thank-you," she finally blurted. He blinked. "For sparring with me. You… you didn't have to."

"Maybe I just wanted to hit you?" Junior suggested, forcing his normal dry tone.

Chi Chi rolled her eyes. "Sure thing, tough guy." She poked his chest, and maybe it was his imagination but she seemed to linger against his bare skin. "I'm sure that's why you gave me that butterfly kick before pinning me."

Junior flushed worse, grumbling to himself. His hands curled into fists on top of the mat, flexing his arms. "I'm sure you're extremely strong," he grunted, "but—,"

"I know," she rolled her eyes. "Big buff Namekian might hurt me, I got it." It seemed like she was moving closer, if possible, and Junior was painfully aware of the fact that her sports bra revealed quite a bit of cleavage. "But one day, why not fight me seriously, hm?"

"I'll consider it," Junior huffed, desperate to get her off of him, yet wanting to keep her there. Unfortunately sweat pants were not the best at hiding issue, and her yoga pants were outlining things that Junior really shouldn't be seeing on a married woman that he shouldn't be looking at because fuck this was Milk!

"Bulma! Your friends are fucking on the gym floor! It's disgusting!" Vegeta's obnoxious voice rang out, and Chi Chi leaped from Junior's lap. He turned to stare at the pointy haired Saiyan, who was giving Junior a look that made him pretty uncomfortable.

"Vegeta!" Bulma's had just appeared, clad only in a tank-top and panties. Junior squawked and covered his eyes. Vegeta made a similar noise, waving his hands at Bulma's exposed body.

"Why the hell—what are you—do you have any decency?!" Vegeta demanded, attention drawn away from Junior and Chi Chi. The blue haired heiress was rolling her eyes.

"You moron; you're the one that called me!" Bulma sighed, and glanced into her gym. The moment she saw Junior, her eyes glossed over. Junior groaned, realizing the error that he'd just made. Vegeta was in the middle of a rant when Bulma by-passed him entirely in favor of coming to reside next to Junior, her bare shoulder touching his elbow.

He immediately tried to shimmy away, trying to ignore the offended Saiyan in the background.

"I think you know what I want," Bulma grinned, slipping her hand over Junior's. He yelped, withdrawing it, his ears pinning back against his head. Beside them, he could see Milk's face crumpled up in confusion.

"I don't care what you want," Junior muttered.

Bulma gave a soft laugh, before withdrawing her phone from—what the fuck how had she fit that in there? Junior buried his face in his hands. She was drawing closer to him, and the moment a breast touched him he was leaping away again. He was on his feet in an instant, desperately scanning the floor for where he'd thrown his shirt.

"Please, Mister Junior?" Bulma was on her knees, staring up at him with wide blue eyes. Junior grimaced, lips peeling up.

"That is for Gohan only," he ground out, but Bulma was ignoring him.

"It's just that—I want a picture. Of you. Like this." She was grinning widely. Junior looked helplessly to Chi Chi, who was grinning at him, still looking a little flushed from their match against one another.

"What harm can a picture do?" Milk prompted—and he wished he'd slammed her down just a bit harder now.

His shoulders slumped as he realized he was out numbered.

"Fine," he grunted. Bulma squealed and shot forward, grabbing Chi Chi's hand as she went. Junior bit the inside of his mouth as he felt a woman on each side, both pressing against his skin. He was hyper-aware of Chi Chi's cheek touching his waist, and Bulma's hand which he had to smack away from going anywhere inappropriate.

"Vegeta! Come take the picture!" Bulma commanded, but Vegeta flipped her off.

"You don't just ignore me and then make demands, woman!" the Saiyan turned his head, jaw jutting out as he ignored Bulma.

"Ugh, fine." Bulma tried to lift the phone up, the front camera showing an uncomfortable Chi Chi, a beaming heiress, and Junior's torso. Bulma was popping up and down on her toes, grumbling as she attempted to get a better angle.

Sighing, Junior grabbed the device, lifted it up, and snapped the picture.

Bulma squealed, jumped, and took her phone back, eyes roaming hungrily across the picture.

Chi Chi left his side, but returned with his shirt. He gave her a long look, before taking it from her hands.

"Thanks," he grunted, and slipped it back on.

"No problem. It was a distraction," Chi Chi muttered. "To Bulma." That last part got tacked on, like a definite punctuation. Junior nodded. "I'm going to go get dressed, then we can head home."

"Good," Junior said, staring reproachfully at Bulma and Vegeta, who were now arguing animatedly while the Saiyan began doing warm-up exercises. "The sooner the better."

Gohan and Videl sat on the floor, a monstrous bowl of popcorn between them. They were shoveling it back, Videl playing some of her favorite matches on the TV. A few had been of his father—Son Goku was rather famous, really. He'd been in countless fights, though he hadn't seen very many of them.

"Oh! Oh!" Videl cheered excitedly, almost over-turning the bowl as she clapped her hands. "The next tape is of the Piccolo family!" The girl was squealing. "You'll get to see the Demon King, and Ma Junior!"

Gohan rolled his eyes, idly munching at his popcorn. His friend loved 'the Piccolos'; she viewed them as the best fighters. The whole night they'd been progressively working their way towards them. Gohan had offered to just watch them first, but Videl had insisted that the best be saved for last.

Videl shoved the VHS tape in, rocking back onto her bottom. The look on her face was of pure glee, fast-forwarding to the fight.

Gohan watched, bored. The only thing that was interesting was that the man was a Namekian like Mr. Junior—which he found odd enough. Namekians fighting seemed odd to him. Mr. Junior was the (not so) friendly flower shop owner who sang with Gohan and quarreled with his mom.

The Namekian—the Demon King Piccolo—was humongous though. His stats sheet popped up onto the screen, the announcers rambling on about his undefeated record. Gohan had already read about that, though. The only thing that bore any interest to him was the fact that this was supposedly the man that had fought his father. He assumed that it was like any fight, though, and he already knew his dad had won.

Where was the suspense?

Other than that, it was just the eight-foot-tall man beating his opponents down. Gohan was rather proud of his father, though, as he watched Piccolo fight. The Namekian was brutal—far worse than any fighter that Gohan had seen thus far. He could see why Videl liked him. Noses were crushed, limbs were broken—it was awful.

"Here comes the fight with your dad!" Videl cheered, nudging Gohan. He paid a little more attention now, though he felt his stomach churn at the sight of his young father standing there. He didn't know how old Goku actually was at that time—but he had to have been teens or early twenties.

"And here comes Son Goku! He's just emerging from the underground, making his way into the big Martial Arts Tournament! They say this up and comer has a surprising amount of skill! He doesn't look like much, though, especially next to the fearsome Demon King!"

Piccolo stood on the other side of the arena, cocky smirk spread across his green face. It looked like his nose was broken in a couple of places, and one of his antennae hung a bit crooked. He was twirling his arms around in big looping circles, stretching himself out as he slowly approached the middle.

Goku followed course, messy black hair falling against his young face. He was wearing his traditional orange gi, feet shuffling as he bounced and shook his fists. The referee drew him close, touching his shoulder, while placing a hand upon the Demon King's elbow.

He announced the start of the match.

Gohan yawned. It was getting late—and he was sure that once he'd seen his father fight, he'd seen them all. Goku was using his typical motions, darting around at first, before analyzing the opponent, and then striking from there. Videl was eating it up, though, popcorn bulging in her cheeks as she screamed at the TV.

He rolled his eyes, and glanced back at the screen.

He froze.

"Oh! And the Demon King just broke Son Goku's nose! That's gotta hurt!"

Goku stumbled, face a bloody mess as he knelt down, clutching at the flowing stream. Piccolo knotted up a hand into Goku's hair, jerking him back. He swatted away the hand trying to stem the flow.

Piccolo grinned, and smashed his forehead into the bloody mess. Goku screamed and flailed, kicks launching into the Demon King's stomach as he continued to hold him there. The Saiyan jerked and managed to free himself, though the audience yelled in surprise at the bloody mess of hair that remained in Piccolo's claws.

"Come on, Son Goku! Aren't you supposed to be unbeatable?" Piccolo struck out, the heel of his foot crashing into Goku's jaw. Goku sprawled out on the mat, chest heaving as he fought to breathe. Demon King kept advancing, kneeling directly over the man.

He struck down, claws scoring long, jagged lines across Goku's stomach.

"Violation!" the referee shouted, and Piccolo gave him a disgusted look. "Weapons are not permitted."

"These aren't weapons," Piccolo snapped back, rising once again to his full height. The referee cowered beneath Piccolo's fiery gaze. "They are a part of my body." Then he turned back to Goku, who had managed to scrabble up to his knees. "Oh, no you don't." Piccolo clasped both of his hands together, and smashed them down onto Goku's spine.

Another scream. Goku thumped against the mat, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the blood that barred him. It looked as if the referee planned to step in once more, but Piccolo kept him at bay with another glance.

"Get up." Piccolo commanded, kicking Goku's ribs. "I said get up!"

Goku pushed, and he began to slowly wobble up to his feet. He spat, and lunged at Piccolo. The Namekian smirked, and pretended to yawn, as Goku's fist landed straight into his gut.

Piccolo's eyes widened in surprise as he doubled over, the punch catching him off guard with the force of it. Goku gave a savage yell, and swung around to kick Piccolo's ribs, sending the Namekian spinning to the ground. The Demon King yelped in surprise as Goku bore down on him again, slamming repeatedly into the Namekian.

There was a scrabble, where Piccolo manage to rip and tear more thoroughly at Goku, before the Saiyan reared back. Piccolo followed, both fighters swinging punches out. The Demon King managed to knock one of Goku's teeth out, just as the Saiyan's fist made contact with Piccolo's jaw.

There was a loud crack! and Piccolo saw teeth fly from his mouth, blood pooling up.

Gohan stared in horror at the bloodshed. Videl, however, was still screaming, cheering on the Demon King. But he couldn't—wouldn't—cheer for either. His throat was frogged up as he stared in absolute horror at the havoc they had brought upon one another. There was so much blood… his father looked dead… and Piccolo…

His whole entire jaw hung sideways, teeth littering the mat next to his unconscious form. The announcer was buzzing about the disgraceful defeat—with particular replays back to Piccolo grinning and laughing at his opponent instead of fighting…

But Gohan was disappointed in his father. This was disgusting… and awful.

"Your dad beat him up good," Videl finally calmed down enough to speak to him, seeming to take no notice of her friend's soured mood. She was impatiently fast-forwarding once more. "That fight's famous! It ruined the Demon King's career, y'know? Kinda gave your dad one, though, so I guess lucky you!"

Gohan felt the opposite of lucky.

"Anyways, I like the Demon King—but Ma is my favorite! He fights your dad, too! But they took that match off TV, too."

"Why?" Gohan managed to get out.

Videl tilted her head. "Duh. Way too violent! It's supposed to be the biggest bloodbath in the tournament's history. They want families to tune in and see could fighting moves, not that. Personally, I think it's cooler that way!" She finally played the tape again, and Gohan stared at the TV, feeling sick.

The fighter was a big bald man named Tien. Then the screen panned over.

"Ma Junior—the delinquent carrying on the family name! Who would have thought it! —oh, better be careful! If he hears me I might not make it out of this alive!"

The camera zoomed in on a Namekian, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a leather jacket. His face was twisted into a sneer, eyebrows drawn down over dead eyes. Piercings covered every inch of his face, dangling from his antennae as he slowly came forward. His pants were a tight leather, tucked deep into high-topped Converse. There was some obscure band tee underneath, stretched across his large frame as he began circling the edge of the mat.

Tien approached, third eye unblinking as he situated his gi.

"You're going to fight in that?" Tien's eyes narrowed as he regarded his opponent. Ma didn't even bother to respond. The referee announced the beginning of the match, and Junior had already shot forward, slamming the heel of his palm into Tien's nose.

The man howled in pain, while Junior kicked him straight in the gut. Tien tried to recover, swinging out, just to have Junior catch the punch.

A smirk split across Junior's face, casting him in a maniacal light. He tightened his grip on Tien's hand, twisted, and then ripped.

Gohan stared, horrified, at the screen. Some inhuman scream bubbled up into his throat, something that he couldn't even bother to get out. Muttering something to Videl, he shot from the room, hot bile pouring into the back of his mouth.

Tien was one of his father's friends—he'd met the man! He'd smiled, and if his arm was a little wonky then Gohan had never questioned it. That man had brought Gohan a book he'd wanted for his birthday one time, back before his father's travels had started taking longer and longer.

That man—

And there was no mistaking that the Namekian had been—

Gohan didn't make it to the toilet, and vomited on Mr. Satan's nice white carpets.

"Goku and I trained together. I told you my father and his sensei knew one another? Well, that's why. Master Roshi would work with both of us, and my dad wasn't exactly a pushover either." Chi Chi sat on the trunk of Junior's car, with the man leaning against the bumper beside her. When they'd arrived back at their homes, Chi Chi had been struck by the reminder that she'd be returning home alone.

She'd managed to get Junior talking, and was now basically stalling.

"Still not sure how that idiot Son even figured out what marriage was," Junior replied, hand stuffed in his pockets as he tilted his head to look up at her. She was eternally grateful that they were both fully clothed again, though she now had an unhealthy appreciation for the way the dim street lights flickered across his skin.

Chi Chi sighed. "Yes, well. Our guardians pushed it," she replied, glancing up to the night sky. She missed laying underneath the stars out in the mountains. "Goku agreed because—because, well, he didn't hate me." She pursed her lips, and rubbed at her arms.

Junior shifted.

"I know—I know that Goku loves me and Gohan. He's just… It's not really a him thing, to, y'know, show it." Her explanation sounded lame, but Junior made a noncommittal noise as he nodded to what she said.

"But does that make you happy—or Gohan?"

Chi Chi gave him an incredulous look. "I—," she trailed off, and her shoulders slumped. "No."

Junior hummed.

She gave him a suspicious glance. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he replied. Junior pushed off of the car, and gave her a wide grin. "But—I know that next time you want to spar; I'll take you up on the offer. Son Goku's a dumbass, but he picked a good partner."

Chi Chi flushed. "Yeah, well… he loved sparring with me more than sex."

Junior's cheeks turned purple as his eyes opened wider. "Wha—?"

"Oh, don't be like that. You're a big boy, you know how it goes." Chi Chi sighed, flipping a hand as she spoke. She stared at Junior, though, and recognized a panicked look. "The old story? Sex gets old, you know?"

Junior looked even more flabbergasted.

"Well, to be fair, with Goku it never had a chance to be new. He never was a fan. Gohan's a miracle and—why do you keep looking at me like that?" Chi Chi snapped, embarrassment rising the longer he stared at her. "You're acting like you've never done…it…"

She blinked.

Junior shifted, a mutinous look creeping up over him. "I swear to the gods Milk, if you try to make fun I—,"

Chi Chi held up her hands. "I'm not… I won't make fun!" She was more shocked than amused, if she were being honest. The Namek was almost thirty and yet… "Have you ever had a girlfriend?" she prompted. She'd asked him that before and he'd shut her down, but…

"No."

His teeth were gritted.

"Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Casual date?"

"No," he snarled, growing more and more disgruntled as the conversation carried on.

Chi Chi was floored.

"Granted, I've only ever been with Goku but—well, no one?"

"Who the hell would I have been with?" Junior snapped. She wondered if she'd touched a nerve. "Green bean, slug, snail, lettuce, snot, green giant—those aren't exactly affectionate nicknames, you ill-mannered dunce."

Chi Chi opened her mouth, but Junior interrupted.

"And don't even shell out any of that empty shit you humans thrive on. I know what the hell I look like—and I know what people say about me." His shoulders set as he crossed his arms, looking away from her when he finished.

When Chi Chi spoke, her voice was soft and quiet. "You forgot Pickle."

Junior stared, open mouthed, before collapsing into laughter.

Chapter

"Monster"

Bulma had already hooked her phone up, printed, and laminated a poster sized version of she and Chi Chi crammed against possibly the most muscular man she'd ever seen—not to mention one of her favorite fighters. His brutal nature was wonderful, and Bulma could appreciate that to the fullest.

Especially when he looked like that.

She taped up the poster on her already crowded walls, before rocking back on her heels in accomplishment.

"You're pathetic."

Vegeta's drawl sounded a bit more agitated than usual, and when Bulma turned to give him her usual attitude, she saw that he was glaring with a great intensity at the walls. His eyes roamed over her posters—which was really quite offensive to the half-naked Bulma.

"Says you," she retorted. Not her greatest, but she was still kind of riding the high of having Ma Junior touch her. "What's your deal, anyways?"

"I don't see why you idolize that idiotic Namek!" Vegeta spat out, kicking at Bulma's doorframe. She turned, hip jutting out as she gave him a curious look.

"Because—he's totally hot, and a fantastic fighter!" She rolled her eyes, leaning forward, talking to him as if he were particularly stupid. She didn't know what his problem was, but he was peeling his lip up into a sneer.

"He's a giant green man with smoke blown up his ass." Vegeta crossed his arms, pointedly glaring at one of the posters. "And he's wasting his time with that stupid human woman! Imagine—a Namekian with feelings." His laugh was harsh and cruel.

Bulma simply beamed, though, and bounded forward. She grasped Vegeta's biceps, causing the Saiyan to lurch back in surprise. His eyes were wide, making him look mildly panicked as his tail fluffed out behind him.

"So—you think Junior has the hots for Chi Chi, too? See, I was totally guessing, but—wow!" Bulma sounded a bit breathless as she shook Vegeta, missing his eyes darting downwards. "I mean, sure, I wanted to sleep with him, but a friend doing it is like second best!" She paused, twisting her mouth into a frown. "Damn… Chi Chi's not for juicy details, though… How can I live vicariously through her?" Bulma stared directly into Vegeta's bewildered stare.

"You're fucking nuts," he yelped, finally withdrawing from her. Vegeta rubbed nervously at his arms where Bulma had been holding, staring furiously at her. "You do realize you're pining over a green thing—one who may not even have—," his voice broke off as he flushed. "A thing."

Bulma arched her brow. "I don't necessarily need a 'thing'. I'm very versatile." She winked and waggled her eyebrows, shooting him a finger gun. Vegeta's face collapsed into comical disgust as he shook his head.

"You baffle me, woman."

"Yeah, well. You're a prude."

"It's how I was brought up," Vegeta responded primly, nose pushing up into the air.

"By the Colds…?" Bulma prompted.

Vegeta glared at her. "Did you not learn your lesson the first time? Don't meddle with me—or the Colds."

She groaned, rolling her eyes. Her hands flew up in the air in defeat.

"Ugh, fine—whatever. I just wanted to get to know my roomie better." Bulma huffed, matching Vegeta's aggravated glance.

"Nosy woman," he spat, turning and taking his leave. "Though one day, you should watch me fight." His grin was cocky as he threw it over his shoulder. "I promise I'm better than any man you've seen before."

Bulma blinked, before returning his smirk. "Sure thing, little man."

"Thank-you for driving me back," Chi Chi sighed. She'd just received a call from Mr. Satan that Gohan had been sick. Junior had immediately offered to take her back, since the two had been merely passing time out in front of his shop.

"It's not a problem," he grunted, shrugging his shoulders. He was quiet for just a moment, before adding quietly, "You know I'd do anything for the kid."

"I know," Chi Chi replied, giving Junior a soft smile.

Junior tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "You—I'll protect you as well." His voice was raspy, and Chi Chi stared forward, almost questioning what he'd said. She stared at the passing streetlights, mouth open as she processed that.

"That's… very sweet of you, Junior," her voice was sticking in her throat.

"It's because you're his mom," Junior spat out hurriedly, shoulders hunching up as he drove forward. "So don't go feeling special or anything!"

Chi Chi scoffed, crossing her arms. Of course. One sweet moment, and Junior had to trash it all. Every time she started to consider him as a friend of hers, he stomped it flat. She glared out the window, maintaining a steady stream of silence as he drove.

She thought of Gohan—her poor baby. She'd been so nervous about being alone, that she hadn't really considered that he would get sick! Maimed, hurt, or any other variation, sure. But sick… he'd been fine when they'd left the house. She wondered what had happened.

They pulled up to the mansion, and when she got out, Junior joined her. He muttered something about wanting to make sure Gohan was okay, and Chi Chi kept pace with him. Walking up the mountainous front steps, Chi Chi rang. Mr. Satan appeared at the door, looking a bit nervous.

Then he saw Junior.

Hercule was immediately a blubbering mess; Chi Chi sat there, confused. She didn't understand why he was acting like that. It was like Chi Chi didn't exist as the generally pompous man was spouting out nonsense and praises to Junior.

Junior looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"Mr. Satan—my son?" Chi Chi interrupted, getting antsy the longer this went on. If Gohan was seriously sick, then she needed to get him to a hospital. There was no way a doctor's office was open this late.

Hercule nodded, "Course, course—let me just go grab the lil' feller." The man disappeared back into the mansion, and Junior scuffed his shoe uncomfortably against the concrete.

"You okay?" Chi Chi asked, tilting her head. "That was incredibly weird… is it because your father?" She huffed as Junior simply shrugged, not making eye contact. "I mean, I get that you would probably be known, but jeez."

Hercule finally came back out, his large hairy hand resting atop Gohan's head. The boy looked a little pale in the face, his eyes squinted up. It was clear that he'd been crying, and Chi Chi's heart ached at the thought. She delved forward, sweeping him up into a hug. His face was buried against her shoulder, and she gave him a consoling pat.

"It's okay, baby… me and Mr. Junior are here now…" Chi Chi spoke soothingly, but her words had the opposite effect. Gohan stiffened, jerking out of her grasp as he stared wide-eyed up at Junior's frame. The Namekian looked confused, but attempted to reach out a hand to pat Gohan.

The little boy leapt back, staring in fear at Junior's extended hand.

"Gohan…?" Junior questioned, antennae twitching as he stared at the little boy.

"I-I don't want to work at the flower shop anymore," Gohan's voice was barely above a whisper, but he kept his stutter to a minimum. Chi Chi rocked back on her heels, watching as large tears appeared at the corner of Gohan's eyes, dropping down his cheeks as a hiccupping sob broke free from him.

"Kid, I don't make you do much work as it is, rea—," Junior was cut off as Gohan's sobs grew fiercer, his whole body shaking.

"Y-you f-fought m-my daddy and his fr-friends and you d-didn't te-tell m-me."

The stutter was in full swing, and Chi Chi tried to reign Gohan in. He swatted away her arms, fists clenched at his side.

"You're a m-monster! Y-you broke T-Tien's arm! A-And Yam-Yamcha's ribs! Kr-Krillin was blee-bleeding a lot and … and my dad you… my d-d-daddy you…" Gohan's whole entire face was screwed up, and he dropped to his knees, chest heaving with the effort. "Y-y-you tr-tried to k-kill hi-him!"

Gohan dissolved completely then, flinging himself into Chi Chi's astonished embrace. Her mind was complete and utter static as she held him, fingers tight against his shoulders. His cries were so loud that she couldn't hear, and sat there, stunned.

Above her, she could see Junior's stricken face, his hand still extended. He wasn't looking at mother or son, instead transfixed on some other distant point.

Hercule stood amidst the commotion.

"I don' understand. Don't you n' yer lil boy know all 'bout Ma Junior?"

"No," Chi Chi mumbled, staring up at the Namekian. "I don't know him at all."

Reviews are loved, as always!