Chapter
"Match"
Gohan felt slightly guilty as he sat at the counter, wrapping up an order of flowers. He was tying the ribbon up around the stems, with the crinkly paper beneath it. He deposited it into the basket at his feet, where several other bouquets were already laying. Nail soon came by and grasped the handle of the basket, and swung it up. His gaze landed squarely on Gohan, clearly accusatory as he shifted to Dende.
"I'll run these orders out."
"Be safe!" Dende encouraged, waving his hand as Nail took his leave. Gohan sighed, and slumped down in his seat. The tiny Namekian noticed, and slowly approached, robes brushing against the few stray leaves on the shop floor.
Gohan glanced up as Dende placed a soft hand onto his shoulder.
"Is everything all right, Gohan?"
Gohan sucked in his bottom lip, and slowly nodded. "I just… I'm having a lot of fun here, even though Mr. Junior's not running the shop anymore…" It had been weighing heavy on him that he was enjoying his time without his friend here. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Mr. Junior's company—really, it wasn't! But it was nice to talk to the customers, and Dende had lots of common interests with him.
Dende gave a sympathetic nod. "You're feeling bad about that? Well, you shouldn't. I'm sure you and ah—Mr. Junior can enjoy plenty of time together, even if it's not at this shop."
Gohan heaved a sigh, his shoulders hunching forward as he thrummed his fingers against the table.
"I guess… but I don't really know that much about Mr. Junior! What if… what if he doesn't like me as much now that we're not at the shop together?" His voice rose in pitch as he felt a marginal sense of panic.
Dende gave a thoughtful hum, before snapping his fingers. "Will you watch the store for just one moment?" he requested, turning the slightest bit. "I just need you to run things for about ten minutes."
"Ok," Gohan agreed slowly, and watched Dende disappear upstairs. He sat, listening to the strange music that Dende had pouring out of the speakers. It was some strange Namekian chanting that was surprisingly soothing, and Gohan kept meaning to ask Dende more about it. The younger Namekian had already offered him language lessons, and Gohan had eagerly accepted. He already knew basic Japanese, and he was always looking to broaden his horizons.
Dende finally returned, with a large box in his arms that he quickly brought to Gohan's work table. He plopped it down, a puff of dust rising up from the dilapidated cardboard. Stuff spilled over the tops, and Dende began pulling things out. A book came first, which Dende peeled open, the spine of it crackling as he spread out the pages.
Gohan blinked, and stared down at the plastic slips before him.
"I thought you might enjoy this," Dende grinned. "Granted, when I grabbed it, I didn't realize it would serve this purpose. While we were staying with Piccolo Senior, I found it while cleaning, and wanted to bring it back…"
"Is that… Mr. Junior?" Gohan peered forward, staring at the yellowing pictures. A tiny Namekian was in the picture, short and chubby with a giant robe on. He was in the arms of a ridiculously large Namek, who was in matching garb. They both had smirks pasted on their faces, one cherubic in an odd way.
Dende giggled. "Yes. This is Junior and his father, before I was even hatched! Piccolo used to attend events in the village, back when he was a big name. From what Kami said, he liked to gloat."
Gohan stared at the pages in awe. There was a picture of a baby Junior sitting amidst a shattering of egg shells, with a haggard looking Piccolo sprawled next to him, throat swollen and distended in what was almost macabre.
"Apparently Kami took most of these pictures," Dende informed, tapping at them. "He insisted on being a part of Junior's life when he was younger. When he got older…" Dende trailed off. "Well. Between Junior and Piccolo both butting heads, Kami just finally cut his losses."
Gohan's eyes couldn't leave the fractured egg.
But he was my father
He felt an odd feeling in his stomach, and flipped the page. The next pages were of Junior and Nail, both looking particularly frustrated as they were posed next to one another. The Namekian called Kami appeared in a few of them. There was Nail and Junior begrudgingly doing garden work, there was the two sitting in the back of a truck, there they were laying in a flower bed.
Gohan felt weird, looking at a Junior that was his age. Dende rattled off stories that he knew, while Gohan just felt more and more mystified. This was supposed to help him feel closer to Junior—but all he felt was a vast sea of age and experience between them. An entire life spanning between them that Gohan didn't know.
He tightened his hands in his lap.
"Ah!" Dende clapped his hands together. "Here we go! Here's where he started to go by Ma Junior. He started doing fights." Gohan glanced down, and finally saw something familiar. There was Junior, face set in a moody cast as he glared at everything. "Now, this is where we got really close. I thought Junior was really cool." Dende sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what was wrong with me."
Gohan stared at the pictures, and certainly, there was Dende, his long gowns still present as they took pictures that seemed to be in the Namekian colony. There were solar ports everywhere, and an overflow of vegetation everywhere. It looked foreign and beautiful, and Gohan wondered what it would be like to have been there.
"Junior got in a lot of trouble," Dende remarked, pointing at the picture, "for that leather jacket exactly. He kept finding ways to sneak it in." The photo in question involved Junior leaned up against a pole, a piece of celery shoved in his mouth as he posed in front of an arcade, hands in his jacket. It looked like Junior wanted desperately to be bad and cool, but was failing miserably.
Gohan finally found it in himself to giggle. He could see some of the modern Junior in there. Sure, teenage Junior wasn't as bulky or as impressive, but the soft interior was present.
"Speaking of…" Dende reached into the box, and drew out a dingy, grey mess. It was tattered, but still recognizable as the leather jacket in the pictures. Dende was smiling, and fanned it out, before plopping it down on a surprised Gohan's shoulders.
Dende leaned back, humming thoughtfully before giving him a thumbs up.
"It doesn't quite fit you, but it's a nice look." Dende grinned, and Gohan stared in awe at the leather now hanging from his frame. It was obviously not big enough to fit Junior as an adult, but it was still significantly too large for Gohan's diminutive size. He gripped at the zipper teeth, and stared at it, not knowing what to say.
Chi Chi felt odd as she stood in the kitchen, giving Junior bizarre looks over her shoulder as she cooked. After she had been informed—rather suddenly—about this stupid match between Vegeta and Junior, the Saiyan had quickly taken his leave, muttering about training. Then, instead of following suit, Junior had opted to stay, almost as if he dreaded returning to the shop. An hour had passed, when the Namekian had approached her, offering to wash dishes to as to keep him busy.
She'd agreed, albeit with some amount of worry. Help was help, though, and during the dinner rush she was rather grateful for it. He kept them caught up, and she and Bulma were able to focus on food and service solely. Post dinner, things settled down, and so now she had time to dawdle.
Her eyes scanned his back, eyes sweeping across the broad expanse of fabric. His head had been bent determinedly this entire time, only offering sparse conversation to her and Bulma as he worked.
"So," Chi Chi prompted, stirring her food, "are you going to train like Vegeta is?"
Junior snorted, but he did turn slightly, grin cocky as it spread across his features. Chi Chi quickly shot her gaze back to the food.
"I'm fine, Milk," he replied, "but thanks for your concern."
Chi Chi scoffed, shaking her bangs back from her forehead. "Oh whatever. I'm merely worried that you're not quite up to snuff."
"Ha. Ha." Junior deadpanned, and she could hear him using the sprayer. "I'll be fine. Veggie is going to have to learn his place. I don't know why he's pushing so hard for this thing anyways."
Chi Chi shrugged, pinching the corner of her mouth up. "I don't know. It is odd. Poor Bulma had to cancel her date and…" she stopped. Dropping her spoon, she rushed over to Junior's side, and smacked his bicep. He snarled at her as she swung him around to look at her.
"What the hell, Milk—,"
"Vegeta doesn't want her on that date!" Chi Chi hissed, voice a whisper as she glanced towards the door. Junior gave a stupefied blink, and dropped the pot he'd been working on back into the suds.
"Excuse me?" he demanded, but thankfully he'd dropped the volume of his voice as well. Ever so slightly he inclined himself towards her, his neck bowed as he regarded her. She matched gazes with him.
"I'm telling you—Vegeta is doing this to keep her off of her date."
"But… why?" Junior asked, looking stupefied.
Chi Chi groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Because," she said, fists resting on her hips, "he likes her."
Junior just sat there. "Okay? But why challenge me to a stupid fight?"
She rolled her eyes. "You don't keep up, do you? He doesn't want her to go on the date, so he started this stupid thing with you—and this is the only way he knows how to impress her. Physical strength."
"That's stupid."
Chi Chi grinned. "Well, you're not wrong there. I'm not saying he's a smart man, I'm just letting you know what's happening."
"Then shouldn't we tell Bulma?" Junior pointed to the door. "It'd make this a lot easier."
"Are you nuts?!" Chi Chi gasped. Junior pinned his ears back at her exclamation. "No we can't tell her! It'll embarrass Vegeta!"
"I think he should be embarrassed in general."
"Not the point," Chi Chi snipped.
Junior shrugged and turned back to the dishes. Chi Chi huffed, and crossed her arms.
"Just keep quiet about it, will you?"
"I never even would have noticed if you hadn't said anything," he quipped.
Chi Chi pursed her lips, and huffily stomped back to her food.
It came time for the restaurant to close, and Junior was waiting for Chi Chi at the door. She was rather surprised to see him standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweat pants as he did his best to look surly.
"I figured I might as well walk with you," Junior grumbled as Chi Chi approached. She gave him a sly smile.
"I didn't say anything," Chi Chi said, laughing at his surly attitude. Grumbling, he pushed open the door, allowing her to exit before him. Once she hit sidewalk, Junior spoke again.
"I do have a question, though."
"Shoot," Chi Chi replied, slowing her steps.
"Why are you so invested Vegeta's secret?" he asked, one antennae twitching.
Chi Chi sighed. "Well. I don't really like him at all—but…" She pursed her lips, and crossed her arms. "I suppose I still don't believe that he should be embarrassed. And I know that Bulma likes him, too, but they're both being stupid."
Junior rubbed at the back of his skull, and shrugged his shoulders. "It all sounds stupid to me."
Chi Chi smiled. "From your stories, you don't sound very versed in romance, so I'm not surprised."
Junior gave a lop-sided smirk. "Really? I thought I came across as very practiced."
"I had my doubts," she chuckled, pausing outside of Porunga's Post. He stilled as well, hesitating as they regarded one another. "I guess… good night." Chi Chi pushed her hands into the pocket of her apron, and peered up at him. "Would you… send Gohan out?"
"Sure," Junior replied, clearing his throat. "I'll get the kid for you." He stepped in, the bell dinging up above his head. She watched through the glass as he entered, and she tightened her fingers around one another in a twist. Soon Gohan appeared through the doorway, a soft smile on his face as he looked up to his mother.
"Hi, baby," Chi Chi greeted. "Let's head on home."
Bulma strapped her iPod to her armband, and headed down the hall to the gym. She wasn't surprised to see Vegeta sitting on a bench, curling weights. He barely glanced at her as she entered, and she immediately went to the elliptical. As she clambered on, there was a dismissive snort behind her.
Turning around, she saw Vegeta staring at her with a disdainful look.
"Yes?" Bulma demanded.
"Nothing—just that your cardio is wasteful."
"Excuse you!" Bulma huffed. "How do you think I reached this age and stayed so drop dead gorgeous?" She demonstratively ran a hand down her figure, causing Vegeta to grow flustered. He almost dropped his weight as he angrily twisted his head away from her.
"Whatever. You have the potential to be stronger. Why squander it on running?"
Bulma blinked. "Potential?"
Vegeta sighed, and set his weight down. He pointed abruptly at her. "Your arms are lean, but there's slight muscle there from what minimal work you do with them. You stomach is flat, however it could be easily transformed to have abs. And your thighs are already a tad bit larger than the average woman—they could definitely develop a large amount of muscle and still fall into the category of what you women prefer to have."
Bulma's mouth dropped open, and she glanced down at herself. "I… okay… you really pay attention, don't you?"
Vegeta grunted. "I'm a trained fighter, woman, the best of all the dogs." His face became a bit gaunter as he shifted. "It is my nature to regard anyone and everyone as a feasible opponent. I want to know their limitations, and what exactly their treat level is to me."
Bulma frowned, and stepped completely away from the elliptical, instead opting to come closer to him.
"You know that I'm not an enemy, right?" Bulma asked, her voice soft as she approached him. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, so she halted in her footsteps. She remembered everything she'd read about aggressive animals, and slowly crouched, her knees almost touching the ground as she squatted in front of him.
He seemed to relax.
"I'm aware," Vegeta muttered, shrugging his shoulders.
"All right…" Bulma paused for a moment, then bit her lip. "So, why are you facing off against Junior? Not that I'm going to complain—hey, you're hot, he's hot, I'm all for it, but why?"
Vegeta crossed his arms. "It seemed fun. I've always wanted to fight Ma Junior, and since now I can't—I'll take this as something similar." He threw his gaze downwards, and wouldn't look at her, his tail swirling behind him.
"All right… well, since you're training anyways, do you think you'd be willing to help me?"
Vegeta blinked in surprise, regarding Bulma.
"What?" he sounded stupefied, and she gave him a big grin.
"You said I could pack on more muscle, right?" Bulma tilted her head to the side. "Why not help me, big boy? I'd personally love to be able to kick some ass—like Chi Chi!" She pumped one hand into a fist, and watched as Vegeta actually smiled. It almost looked out of place on his rugged face, but she liked it.
"I suppose I could. But don't expect me to go easy on you, woman. I doubt you'll reach Son Chi Chi's level, but we can make you a little less pathetic."
"Yeah, yeah, assert your Napoleon complex somewhere else." Bulma stood, then, and Vegeta rose as well. "Let's get this going."
Chapter
"Jacket"
"I'm sorry, sir," Zarbon knelt before him, green hair falling over his shoulder, brushing the ground. Freeza took in the pitiful sight, and thought vaguely of just killing the moron right then and there. He was exceptionally tired of failure and faltering plans. Cooler, his father, and now Zarbon—they were all completely and utterly detouring him from his goal of getting Vegeta back.
He couldn't take direct actions against the Briefs—no, the law would be involved, his father would be thoroughly pissed, and to be honest they profited greatly off of their mutual affiliation far too much.
But Freeza wanted his puppy back, and he didn't understand why the universe was conspiring against him.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, he drew his glass to his mouth, sipping at his wine as he coolly regarded Zarbon. The green man remained kneeling, his face set to be out of Freeza's sight. The very picture of perfect acquiescence.
It appeased him, but only slightly. He did enjoy having Zarbon, but the fact was that the man wasn't quite the same as having Vegeta. Zarbon didn't offer him angry snarls, or surly looks, and it just didn't feel as good to snap a collar around his neck.
His grip tightened around the glass, but he didn't fancy the thought of having to move while someone cleaned the mess.
"I'll let it slide this time," Freeza remarked, his tail tip twitching as he regarded his minion. "However you were assigned to this mission for a reason, and if you are incapable of properly preforming this action than I believe I have no use for you." Freeza's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are replaceable, need I remind you?"
"Of course not, sir," Zarbon replied. "I know my place beneath you. However, I do feel the need to add, that I am in favor. It was simply that something came up."
"Pathetic," Freeza contemptuously replied, flicking his wrist in Zarbon's direction. "I'll have none of it. Now—bring me Nappa, will you?" Zarbon stood, bowed, and then hurriedly exited. Freeza sighed, tail thumping against his chair as he drew another sip from his glass. Glancing at the monitor beside him, he read several notifications. A few from his father about attempted negotiations with 18, and then a few eloquently typed taunts from his brother.
Freeza wanted to smash the screen.
Aggravated, he glanced at the huge, burly Saiyan that appeared before him. Freeza glanced at bald man, taking note of the tail wrapped firmly around his waist. Good. That was one thing that Vegeta had never taken to. The diminutive Saiyan always had an issue with his temperament, and Freeza found it increasingly embarrassing the way his tail would misbehave while they were in public.
"Greetings," Freeza acknowledged the man, and watched as Nappa respectfully dropped to one knee. "Report over your section."
"There's been dissent," Nappa informed, eyes latched firmly on Freeza's feet. "A few of the younger Saiyans disagree with the issue over Vegeta. The others aren't happy about going up against Cooler's men."
Freeza snorted. "A dog's lot in life isn't to be happy, it's merely to exist," he replied airily. "But, if any of these naysayers become too radical, be sure to inform a member of the Ginyu. It is… who, Burter? that oversees your division?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. He will handle punishment for them. And the breeding stock?"
"At a low, sir."
Freeza hummed, and narrowed his eyes. "Any reason why?"
"Many of the women are dying in the birthing process."
Freeza sighed, and shifted in his seat. "All right. Perhaps I can get daddy to send me some of his bitches. That will be all, Nappa, dismiss yourself."
Nappa rose slowly, and headed towards the door. He did pause, though, drawing Freeza's attention. The large Saiyan hesitated, before he finally spoke.
"Sir. May I ask. Is the Prin—is Vegeta all right?"
"I heard that slip of the tongue," Freeza hissed, and Nappa stepped back uncertainly. "A prince of mongrels is nothing but a mongrel himself, remember that, Nappa."
"Of course, sir." Nappa attempted to appear smaller, his hand reaching uncertainly for the door.
"But yes." Freeza gritted his teeth. "He is fine. And as soon as my family ceases it's meddling and distracting me, we'll have him back."
"Of course, sir. I would never doubt you."
Vegeta stood on the lawn, stretching his arms as Junior stood to the side, hands firmly placed in his pockets. The Saiyan sported spandex shorts, and a black tank top, while the Namekian wore his normal clothes, sweatpants firmly in place as he glared at the grass.
"Come now, Namekian! Warm up. I'd hate to win by forfeit," Vegeta taunted, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Junior merely glanced at him, before pointedly yawning, canines showing sharp and white.
"Maybe you should warm up," Chi Chi prompted, her khakis a little hot now underneath the sun. She placed her hands on her hips, as she glanced at the house. "I think whenever Bulma gets out here, she wants to start this thing."
The heiress had instructed everyone to wait out on the lawn while she got changed out of her work clothes. She'd been at the lab all day and had insisted on it. Vegeta seemed rather excited for the event to begin, and was now bouncing on the tips of his toes, shooting Junior glances from the corner of his eye.
"It'll be fine," Junior replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"You haven't trained for this at all, though," Chi Chi replied. "I know you used to be this amazing fighter, but everyone gets rusty."
"We're not fighting," Junior argued. "This is simply brute strength."
"Whatever," Chi Chi sighed, shaking her head. Her ponytail was up high, but she could already feel a few strands clinging to her neck as sweat pooled there. She didn't understand how Junior wasn't burning up in this heat—but he looked perfectly cool.
"What are you looking at?" he griped, noticing her gaze.
"Just… you're not hot."
"Neither are you."
"No—temperature, you ass!" Chi Chi huffed, crossing her arms. "I was wondering why you don't look bothered."
"Easy," Vegeta chimed in, turning his nose up in the air. "Namekians do some weird photosynthesizing thing, so they just absorb all of this. They're bodies are naturally cold, too. Really, woman, do you know nothing of aliens?"
"Can't say I do," Chi Chi responded dryly, before glancing to Junior, who nodded. He shifted his arm closer to her, and she was startled. Slowly, she moved her hand forward, fingers touching his skin. Indeed, it was cool to the touch, and had a strange texture—not slimy, but certainly not like skin. It almost felt waxy, like the stem of a flower. "Wow," she breathed out.
She'd had contact with him before, and she'd noticed that it was weird, but now she could really focus on it. She pressed her palm flat against his skin, and ran her hand down his forearm, all the way to the pink ridges. When she touched those, she noticed that they were different.
"Chi Chi, please don't molest the participants." Bulma's voice caught her off guard, and Chi Chi quickly jerked her hand back, just now noticing her friend's approach and Junior's violet colored face.
"Sorry," she muttered, to which Junior grunted in response. Sheepishly, she looked at Bulma, who gave her a thumbs up. The woman was in cut off shorts, and her Vegeta themed t-shirt firmly in place.
Vegeta was staring at it, tail languidly spinning circles behind him.
"All right!" Bulma clapped her hands together, and pointed at Junior. "You—I was promised a shirtless Namek."
Junior grimaced, but Vegeta shot him a rather angry glare.
"Do as the woman says," the Saiyan commanded, which earned him a snap of fangs from Junior. The Namekian did however glance up at the sky, before shrugging.
"It'll feel nice," Junior mumbled, and snagged the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his frame. He tossed it to the side, as Bulma squealed and slapped Chi Chi's arm. She gave her friend a disparagingly look, but she had to admit that the sight was… well, it wasn't bad.
"Ok, so, the first event will be," Bulma dragged out the vowel sound, giving herself a drumroll on her own thighs, "a bench press competition!" She threw her arms out into a jazz hands position, looking quite pleased with herself.
"Then why do you have us out here in this field, woman?" Vegeta demanded. "We could have gone inside to the gym."
Bulma shoved her tongue out at him, and Vegeta drew back, very offended. "The catch, though, is that Chi Chi and I will be your weights."
"Easy," Junior replied. "Too easy."
"This is just a warm up," Bulma replied, smile stretching across her features. "Now, I'll go with Junior, Vegeta, you can lift Chi Chi."
Chi Chi quickly elbowed Junior, and gave a very meaningful look to the surly looking Saiyan, who was glaring at Chi Chi like she'd knocked his teeth in. Junior looked confused for a moment, before Chi Chi sharply hit him once more, and he finally caught on.
"Actually," he grunted, rubbing at his ribs while he sneered at Chi Chi, "I'd like to lift Milk."
Bulma pouted. "Should I be offended?" But she looked to Chi Chi, and started grinning—and oh, god, no Bulma had the wrong idea now. Stifling her mortification, she at least took a little bit of pleasure in the fact that Vegeta had brightened just a bit, and he and Junior were soon getting into position.
They lay down on the grass, while the women approached them from the sides.
"Don't touch anywhere weird, all right?" Chi Chi demanded, tipping to the side slightly.
Junior snorted. "Don't worry," he replied, but he did hesitate as he was looking at her, obviously deciding where to grab. "Uh…" He lay back completely, and just held his hands up, palm first. "Why don't you just… uh… lay across."
Chi Chi bit her lip, and leaned forward, sucking in her breath as she felt Junior's large hands spanning her abdomen. He slid one down, grazing across her hip as he stationed it upon her thigh.
"Sorry," he grumbled, and she glanced down at his purple face.
"It's fine," she answered, voice barely audible as she sat there, hair hanging down. She didn't want to admit it, but his cold hands felt good on her warm skin. The chill was there, even through the fabric of her clothes, and she could feel goosebumps rising where he was holding.
Junior glanced to the right. "Ready whenever you are." Chi Chi angled her head downwards, where she could see an upside down Bulma glaring at a very flustered Vegeta.
"I don't—there's too much to touch!" he snapped, while Bulma groaned and rolled her eyes.
"Oh my god, Vegeta!" Bulma glared at him. "Junior didn't touch Chi Chi anywhere weird, just do what he did!"
Vegeta spat off a few more half-baked complaints, before slowly lifting his hands into tabletop. Bulma huffed, and went to position herself over him, while the Saiyan turned his head away, obviously not wanting to look at what was happening.
"Idiot," Bulma griped. "Junior, I'm glad you're mature. And hot. And shirtless."
"Woman!" Vegeta snapped. "Shut your mouth and start this already!"
"Fine! Begin! First one to drop loses."
Junior sighed, and slowly lowered Chi Chi down, before pushing her back up. The motion startled Chi Chi at first, but after the fifth press, she became accustomed to it. She glanced at Junior, who was looking particularly bored.
"Gohan told me he's been having fun with Dende," Chi Chi commented, growing bored and uncomfortable with the prolonged silence.
"Yes, well," Junior lowered her back down, and she was given a perfect view of grass blades, "I already guessed that those two nerds would get along."
"Was that a spot of bitterness?"
Junior remained silent for a moment.
"It's just…" he sighed. "I guess I got used to always having the kid around."
"You still can."
Junior grunted.
"Next movie night, why don't you two make plans?"
"Fine," Junior muttered.
"Speaking of, what did you want to watch?"
"Really? I thought I was permanently banned from picking movies?" he grinned at her—or, in her direction, considering her constant shifting.
"I decided to rescind my punishment," she sniffed, though she was soon smiling, too. "Just, if you have any movies that are inappropriate again, maybe don't bring them over while Gohan's present."
Junior lifted her up, and paused. Chi Chi almost felt sick at the loss of movement, and gave him a curious look.
"Junior?"
"Sorry," he lowered her once more, and he seemed to be in thought. "Maybe every once in a while… you and I could have a movie night?" His voice sounded rough and gravely, and he was looking up at a cloud, somewhere far away from Chi Chi's face. Which was probably for the best as she flushed.
"Oh. Well—yes, that's fine," she muttered, taking her lip between her teeth. "You know… there are a lot of horror movies that I haven't seen," she said slowly, watching as Junior's grin slowly returned, creeping across his face.
"I definitely have some more we can watch."
Chi Chi felt—oh God, was that jitters? —as she looked down at his face. What the hell was wrong with her?
"So… the count right now is Junior 4, Vegeta 0." Bulma had her workers bring out a gingham blanket, which all four were currently sitting on, everyone eating aside from Junior, who was sipping peacefully at his water bottle. Vegeta angrily gripped his sandwich, taking savage bites from it.
Chi Chi glanced at Junior, watching the bob of his throat as he drank his water. He'd done so well, that Chi Chi was legitimately blown away. Sure, he was big, but that didn't mean everything. Vegeta had enough muscle to match a horse—and he'd been doing horribly. Though, a lot of it wasn't his fault.
The bench-pressing had been going well, until Bulma had shifted, leading to Vegeta touching an area he hadn't been comfortable with. He'd immediately had a meltdown, and tossed Bulma to the side, losing. Then, it had come to pull-ups, which he'd lost fair and square. Thirdly had been an obstacle course, in which Vegeta had been too short to vault the final wall, and had subsequently had a violent melt down where he'd destroyed it. Lastly had been a push-up test, with the girls seated on top. Nobody was quite sure what happened with that one, but Vegeta had just suddenly gotten up and left—angrily sitting by a tree for about ten minutes before he'd rejoined the group to eat.
Bulma sighed. "It's not fair. Hot, muscular, and a winner—some people just get it all."
Junior flushed, while Vegeta started eating with an even greater vengeance.
"I want to pick the final match," Vegeta suddenly spoke up, drawing the attention of the other three.
Bulma tilted her head. "Um… I guess it depends."
Vegeta gripped his sandwich. "Fire show."
Bulma stopped, and furrowed her brow. "Excuse me?"
"A fire show," he snapped, matching gazes with her. "You're rich, woman, you can get the stuff, right?"
"What—hell, no," Junior argued, tossing his water bottle to the side. "This is supposed to be physical challenges, not a talent show."
"And it is entirely physical," Vegeta retorted.
"You're just sore about losing a match you started," Junior snapped, narrowing his gaze.
"Lot of talk from a man who can't fight."
"What the fuck was—,"
"Junior," Chi Chi interjected, settling her hand on his forearm. He glanced back at her, and she pressed her palm against the cool skin. "Vegeta, do you actually know how to do that?" She had her skepticism, and it was clear that he was itching to actually spar with Junior. It was better to deflect this early on.
"Yes, I can," he snapped, while Bulma sat to the side, looking contemplative.
"Hm…. I'll allow it," Bulma agreed, nodding her head.
"You're kidding?" Junior dead-panned, to which Bulma shrugged.
"I think it sounds cool," she replied.
"I can't do any of that," Junior grumbled, crossing his arms.
Chi Chi hesitated, before snapping her fingers. "Okay! Do you have any talents?"
"He is a Namek, perhaps he can give us a pretty flower?" Vegeta snidely commented. Junior tensed up, but Chi Chi held him in place.
"I have something…"
"Then!" Bulma hopped up, looking quite excited. She cheered as she regarded the men. "You both get a week. Put together a lil' somethin' somethin', and then you'll perform it at Chi Chi's restaurant!"
"Excuse me?" Chi Chi balked.
"It's good for business!" Bulma was grinning, already doing some strange calculations in her mind. "I can get us a little stage set up in there by moving tables four and five… it'll cut down on space. Oh! I'll print out some flyers and everything, that'll get people hyped up for it!" She started rambling to herself, and slowly walked away from the group.
Vegeta stood suddenly, and glared at Junior. "I'll prove myself, you gargantuan mess." Then he was gone as well, and both Chi Chi and Junior were left sitting there, with the former's jaw hanging open as she stared after her friend.
"I can't—ugh! I didn't even get a choice in this…" Chi Chi glanced at Junior. "What's your talent?" she asked, tilting her head.
Junior gritted his teeth. "It's a surprise," he muttered.
She sighed. "Just… whatever it is, please don't involve fire. I already don't trust Vegeta with flames in my restaurant." She let out a defeated moan. "If he ruins anything—jeez! I can't afford that kind of mess! Roshi doesn't exactly pay Goku like he should, daddy's hospital bills, and then Gohan's college fund…" She dropped her face into her hands.
"Don't worry," Junior grunted. "I'm not using fire… and if anything does happen, I'd pay for it."
Chi Chi huffed. "You shouldn't throw money around like that!" she chastised. "You should save up!"
Junior rolled his eyes. "Milk, I have more money then I even know what to do with. I'd… rather it goes to you and the kid then to sit in a bank somewhere."
Chi Chi felt her cheeks grow hot. "Oh… Thank-you…?"
Junior looked uncomfortable as he shifted his shoulders, staring at the blanket they sat on. "My father… he's like that. Just sits with his money. Doing nothing. What the hell is the point? He's got that stupid ass mansion, everything he could ever want… but he sits there alone."
Chi Chi moved a bit closer, and extended one arm, wrapping it as best she could from her awkward angle. He jerked in surprise, but as her cheek pressed against his arm, she lay there. He'd put back on his shirt for their little lunch, and the cloth protected her face from the frigid skin beneath.
"I'm glad that… Gohan has someone in his life like you." Chi Chi said it, staring at her bangs as they splayed across the purple fabric of his shirt. She gulped, and wished that she could properly hug Junior. "Goku's… not the most present father. Not really a present husband, for that matter… but I'm glad that you take an interest in Gohan. That you're always here for us." Slowly, she lifted her head, eyes matching black that peered down at her. "Thank you."
She saw Junior visibly swallow, and something lurched in her gut. The way he was looking at her—his eyes softer than they'd ever been, and his mouth turned down, but not in a grimace for once. He looked approachable, he looked… handsome.
They both separated, then, seemingly of one accord. One of them coughed, but Chi Chi couldn't remember who. Maybe they both had? But now there was a continent of space between them as they awkwardly rose to their feet, brushing off clothes as they took great interest in the ground.
"I guess we should head back."
"Yeah, I'm sure Gohan's waiting."
Junior had enlisted Gohan's help for his talent issue—because if he were being honest, he didn't really have anything. Namekians weren't creative, and outside of religious ceremonies, they weren't particularly fond of performances. Junior had been an enigma to them with his consumption of media, but really, it was only because of outside influence.
Even so, he'd never really had a knack for anything. He'd tried singing, and oh God was he awful. He'd tried every rock n' roll instrument he could think of (hell, one time he'd even tried a flute out of desperation, which he wasn't willing to ever admit again), but that had gone to shit. Dancing didn't catch his eye, sports were of no interest, and art—hell no. The only thing he'd ever been good at was fighting, and now that was gone.
Now he and Gohan were out in town, Junior mutinously shoving his hands into his pockets as he glared at anyone who dared approach him or the boy. Gohan had dragged him to a bookstore, claiming that maybe one of the books could possibly stand out in the Hobbies section.
"No matter what we pick, I doubt I'll be able to master it within a week," Junior grumbled. He knew he wasn't being particularly helpful, but to be honest he hated this whole thing. Technically, he'd won he and Vegeta's little matches, and yet he now had to partake in this stupid thing just to assuage the small man's ego.
Milk kept harassing him about 'Vegeta's feelings' but honestly he could not possibly, ever, in all of time and space, give less of a shit. The Saiyan was a moron, and if Milk wasn't so persistent in her stance, then he would've put this show to an end way earlier.
As it stood, though, he didn't really want to fight with Milk. She'd been… less awful, as of late, and he thought that the least he could do was go along with some of her wishes. But then that brought about another issue. This little challenge was going to take place at Milk's restaurant, in front of her.
The last thing he wanted to do was make a complete embarrassment of himself.
"Oh!" Gohan grabbed a book off the shelf, and flashed it at Junior. "What about this? Mom really likes tricks like this—and it's pretty easy to learn."
Junior stared at the cover, before giving a curt nod. "All right, kid. But I'm going to need your help." It was the least objectionable thing that they had found—and it already had a high percent chance of obtaining Milk's approval. Gohan began chattering amicably, talking about how he'd learned a few tricks himself, and that Junior would definitely be able to pull of something simple. With his mouth set in a harsh line, Junior bit out that he sure hoped so.
He bought the book (Gohan expressly told him not to put it back and use the internet instead), and the two headed out, plastic bag swinging from his wrist as he went. As they walked, Gohan pointed as several more stores. Junior recognized what he was doing—pushing for as much time as possible. It brought a soft smile to his face, and he happily ruffled the boy's hair.
They passed by a shop window, and Gohan paused, staring in the glass.
"What is it, kid?" Junior prompted, pausing to regard the little boy.
"Oh it's just…" Gohan pointed at the leather jacket displayed in the window. "Dende let me try on one of your old ones… It was pretty cool."
Junior blinked. "The hell…? Where did he get it from?"
"Apparently your um… your dad's place," Gohan replied, eyes still latched on the jacket. "He let me where it while he showed me old pictures. You had a lot of patches on yours." Gohan finally turned, eyes large and brown—he was reminded of Milk in that instant, always imploring.
Junior scratched at the back of his head, and shrugged. "Yeah. I bought a patch of everything that looked cool. Looking back now, it was a big mess—none of it went together."
"I thought it was neat," the boy said, turning to look wistfully at the jacket once more. "It was like wearing your past."
Junior grimaced. "I've tried so hard to get away from that, kid, so I guess I can't share the sentiment."
Gohan made a small noise. "I guess that makes sense…"
Junior could practically feel the kid's disappointment—hell, it hit him like a sack of bricks in the gut. The downcast eyes, the slanted eyebrows, the puckered lips, and the lilt in his tiny insignificant voice. By the stars, it was a mess.
"Why don't you get one?" Junior prompted, shifting on his feet. "You know… one of your own? Something to make memories of."
Gohan blinked. "O-oh… well, I couldn't ask mom for that… aren't leather jackets expensive?"
"Then I'll pay for it," he continued. He didn't know what the big deal about money was. But he supposed that came from being born into it. Of all the struggles Junior had throughout his life, money had certainly never been an issue.
Gohan flushed to the roots of his hair. "I can't ask that of you!" he argued, shaking his hands in front of his face. "I-I'm really sorry I brought it up!"
Junior rolled his eyes. "Kid, I've got plenty of money. It's no yolk."
Gohan wrinkled up his nose. "U-Um? I don't know that phrase… but…" He bit nervously at his lip, before jerking his head with even more emphasis. "No! It doesn't matter! I still can't do it. It would be… amoral."
Junior sighed, and glanced in the window. He paused for a moment, thinking. "… I've been thinking that I need a new one," Junior spoke slowly, "so I need to go in there anyways. Since I'll already be in there, you might as well look, too."
The little boy stopped, twisting his fingers nervously around one another. He lifted his gaze upwards, staring at Junior. "Okay… but… we're just looking for you, right?"
"Of course."
Chi Chi was cleaning a table, while Bulma avidly spoke to several workers. They had been bringing in wood, moving chairs aside. She had to admit—albeit begrudgingly—that there had been a boom in business for the day, with plenty of customers demanding what was happening, and what even they were holding. The fact that a giant Capsule Corp truck was outside certainly helped that.
She'd had her hands full, and had enjoyed her lunch hour when she'd sat with Dende for a moment. He hadn't eaten anything, instead taking a water, but they'd exchanged pleasantries about Gohan. Her son was out for the day with Junior, helping him pick a talent, and she'd filled Dende in on all of the details.
Dende had sighed, dropping his chin into his hand. "I really do wish he'd share more with Nail and me! We all used to be so close…" He'd sipped at his water, then, and his mood had grown slightly more melancholic after that. Shortly thereafter, he'd left her quite a generous tip, and had then taken his leave.
She felt bad that she hadn't had any food to offer him—after all, there was nothing really alien-friendly on her menu. Well, unless that alien was a Saiyan, like the one that had just sat at the table she'd been so vigorously cleaning.
Chi Chi frowned at her new visitor.
"Vegeta." She stated. The diminutive man gave her a passing glance, before looking to where Bulma was pointing a group of men around. "You know we're closing up, right? I'm not cooking you anything."
Vegeta sneered. "I've given up on your food being my key to fighting Son Goku." He crossed his arms, leaning back in the booth. "Anyways, Bunny is making spaghetti tonight"
Chi Chi wrinkled her nose up. "Bunny?"
"It's Bulma's mother…" he mumbled, face flushed as he looked pointedly away.
"Then why are you here?" Chi Chi asked, her interest piqued. She was certain she knew why. Honestly, her best friend having such a childish suitor was almost like a movie—or even like one of her romance novels. It was kind of fun to have a part in it. That, and she knew for a fact that Bulma had a thing for the short man.
"To walk Bulma home."
"Doesn't she drive home?"
"No, today her friend drove her here."
"And he's not picking her up?"
"He said he was busy."
"Well, she has bodyguards that could help her—,"
"Shut it, you nosy woman!" Vegeta snapped, slamming his fist on the table. Bulma heard the noise and turned, giving the two a strange look. The Saiyan immediately calmed himself, which earned him a tiny, finger wriggling wave from Bulma. Still looking a little red around the neck, Vegeta nodded his head very sternly at her.
"So…" Chi Chi drawled, flicking bangs out of her eyes. "Am I to understand that you're doing this because you enjoy spending time with Bulma?" Her grin spread wide across her face, while Vegeta's tail bushed out behind him, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"That is none of your business woman, and I'll have you kn—hey! Don't walk away from me!" Vegeta's indignant voice fell on deaf ears as Chi Chi saw Junior's car pull in. Happily, she rose up from her seat, hurrying towards the front door to greet her handsome men—.
Chi Chi froze, and mentally vomited on herself. It was what she'd always said whenever Goku came home… it must just be from habit. She lightly smacked her cheeks, and righted herself from whatever that little slip up had been.
She pushed outside, just as Junior's driver door swung open. The two came out, but what they were wearing made Chi Chi's jaw drop.
Junior was in his usual stupid attire—purple sweatpants, purple shirt—but now he had a leather jacket stretched taut across his massive frame. Gohan got out, sunglasses perched on the edge of his tiny nose, and he also had his own leather jacket on.
Chi Chi came slowly closer, toes dragging with each step as she was unable to take in what exactly she was looking at. She saw a shopping bag hanging from Junior's hands, and she wondered what was inside… but she kept getting distracted by leather.
"Hi, boys…" she greeted, voice obviously carrying a question.
"Kid wanted a leather jacket," Junior rumbled, scratching at the back of his head. "The glasses completed the look."
Gohan enthusiastically jumped forward, pushing the sunglasses up higher. He slid, just a bit, and splayed his fingers out. "Hey, pretty mama."
"Oh… w-o-o-o-o-o-o-w." Chi Chi's eyes darted back and forth between the two, while she had to press her lips inwards together, hiding a smile. Junior groaned, and rubbed at the base of his antennae.
"Isn't Mr. Junior the best?" Gohan crowed, practically bouncing as he threw his arms around the Namekian's thighs. He was glowing as Chi Chi looked on, hand already in her pocket as she withdrew her phone, shaking it as the embarrassed looking Junior.
"You know I want a picture of this, right?"
Junior groaned, and hung his head, while Gohan only hugged Junior tighter. Chi Chi snapped the picture, and Gohan released the Namekian in favor of chattering happily to his mother, fists pumping as he rattled on about his day.
Chi Chi listened, occasionally looking to Junior with her repressed smirk. As Gohan talked, she saw him cracking up as well, watching as his fang pressed against his lip. He looked nice—the black leather certainly suiting him. It fit him perfectly… while Gohan… well, he looked adorable.
As her son wound down, he snapped his fingers, catching her by surprise.
"Oh! I forgot the best part!" Gohan jumped back to Junior, tugging on the Namekian. "On the count of three, turn around Mr. Junior," he stage whispered, earning a grunt from up above. "One… two… three…" Both of them spun around, albeit Gohan with a bit more flourish.
Chi Chi clasped her hands over her mouth, releasing the highest pitched "awwwww" she'd ever made. On the back, their names were engraved into the back—with two dragon patches pressed onto the back of the jacket.
"You two are adorable!" she crowed. Junior attempted to look aggravated, but she noticed that his head ducked down, and purple flared across it.
"Isn't it the best?" Gohan cheered.
"Of course!" Chi Chi patted him on the head, and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Why don't you go inside and show Bulma?"
"Okay!" he took off, and Chi Chi smiled at Junior.
"Thanks… again… I know how expensive that stuff is…"
"Oh, stuff it," Junior said, waving a hand at her, "I've heard it all from the kid. Hey…" He was violet once more. "Could you send me that picture?"
"Sure," Chi Chi smiled, and sent the picture. "For the record, you actually look pretty handsome." She could feel a blush creeping up her neck, and heard Junior's noise of surprise.
"Thanks," he muttered, hand rising up to rub at the back of his head—and oh, wasn't that familiar?
Her nervous laughter bubbled over, "No problem! Just… calling it like I see it… Oh. Is that bag for your um, for your talent?" She pointed at it, and Junior jerked in response, glancing down at it.
He hid it behind his back. "Yes. Gohan promised me that he could teach me how to do it."
Chi Chi arched her brow. "No hope in you showing me what it is, huh?"
He grinned. "Not a chance."
"Fine, fine, I'm heading on home. But… after this whole mess is over…" Chi Chi pushed her hands into her apron pockets, "would you like to set aside a day for a movie night? There's a store within walking distance that has a bunch of old classics." She felt so nervous, and couldn't decide why. Was it rejection?
"Yeah, sounds like a plan," Junior said, lopsided grin in place, and she felt the flurry in her stomach increase.
Sorry for the delay, I had medical/personal issues going on. Shoutout to the Sinbin for moral support, and I'm sure you guys'll recognize some of this
Please leave a review, and let me know what you think.