Chapter

"Medicine"

"Why hasn't Son Goku finalized the fight?" Piccolo grumbled, crossing his arms as he reclined in his large bed. His drooping antennae hung low into his eyes, and every time he looked up he was reminded of the similarities he held to his brother now. Disgusting.

The young Saiyan beside him shifted on her feet. "I'm sorry, sir, but we haven't heard back from him. Apparently his manager hasn't been accepting any calls, and simply doesn't seem to be all that interested."

Piccolo snarled, and slammed his large hand into his bedside table. His aggravation peaked, just as a young girl came flying in, long black hair streaming behind her.

"Excuse me, you have to leave," the girl demanded, shooing the Saiyan away. Piccolo roared his disapproval—how dare she make his informant leave. Who the hell did she think she was? "It's time for King Piccolo's medicine." Well, that placated him a bit. She seemed to know who he was, and held the proper respect.

Grumbling in aggravation to himself, Piccolo settled back down into his pillows, arms crossing as he regarded the girl. She seemed familiar…? He furrowed his brow, head pounding as he stared at her.

"Yes, King Piccolo?" the girl queried, pulling a bottle out of her tunic's pockets. She shook pills out into her hand, and barked an order out to the hallway. Soon a little man came trundling in, his green ears pinned back by a ridiculous hat, as he was led along by a dog.

"I'm coming, Mai, shut up. I brought the water bottle," the tiny thing was mumbling. He was smaller than any Namekian Piccolo had seen—be that a mystic member or otherwise. It was pathetic, in his own opinion, but he watched the girl—Mai—take the water from him, before proffering it up to Piccolo.

He jutted his chin out.

"I'm not taking anything from you," Piccolo snarled. "How the hell do I know you're not poisoning me? Where are Freeza's guards?! They were to be stationed! Guards! Guards!" He could feel himself rising into a frenzy, as the dog whimpered and hid, while Mai and the green thing both cowered before him, eyes darting nervously between one another.

At the doorway, a familiar face appeared.

"Freeza," Piccolo settled down immediately, watching as the lizard like creature strode in, his long tail slithering against the carpet.

"King Piccolo," Freeza purred, lips curling into a sinister smile. "I'm terribly sorry, but these… people?" Freeza snorted, shaking his head. "No, rather, things—they work here for you. They're attempting to give you your medicine. You have to be well whenever you go and see your son, don't you?"

Piccolo pressed his lips into a thin line, and settled back down with an agitated noise. His son—he was to fight Goku. His nemesis… thank everything for his spawn. While difficult, he was sure the young boy would make a worthy opponent for that moronic Goku. Sure, these were the rebellious years, but he was sure his teen son would surely deliver once the battle began.

"I should send him a present…" Piccolo muttered to himself, fangs piercing skin as he stared at Freeza, then to Mai's hand where she was pushing the pills towards him once more. "Do you think I should…?"

Freeza gave a sympathetic nod, pursing his lips into a pout. "Of course, of course… after all, a father must show his support. Now, you've taken your medicine, yes?"

Piccolo's reply was rather incoherent as the pills went down his throat. Touching the soft skin, he recalled what it was like to have Junior there. The swelling, the anticipation… Freeza was talking again, but he could hardly hear it. His gaze slid upwards, to the mirror panels. Yes—he remembered! —wasn't that what Junior had always wanted? It was a….

Freeza sneered his lip up at the Namekian as he dropped off, drool dangling from his mouth as the three other occupants of the room remained silent. Mai turned, slowly, and shifted on her feet.

"Sir—,"

"Lord," Freeza corrected, thunderous temper rising as he stared at the trio. All three huddled close together, looking quite terrified, and really, wasn't that just the ego boost he needed right now? He had to stand here in this shit-show of a mansion, that smelled like decaying plant matter, he at least wanted to have himself regaled.

"Lord… Freeza," Mai coughed, and glanced nervously at Piccolo's prone form. "I'm not certain about continuing to mix this sleeping medication with his doses, I mean, we don't know long term effects, or—,"

The girl was silenced as Freeza's tail snapped out, slashing her across her cheek, and sending her tumbling to the ground. She cried out, pressing a shaking hand to where a huge gash now trickled blood in between her fingers. Her lips sucked in as she stared resolutely at the floor, ignoring Pilaf's hands pressing at her shoulders, and the whining dog that pressed itself against her back.

"Listen. You morons decided to be bought off, and now your insignificant little lives are doing just fine, aren't they? Turn your back on me, and I will not hesitate to contact police over a… misguided alien youth." He looked at Pilaf meaningfully, and saw the small man pause in his ministrations and tremble, mouth hitching downwards. "Now. You will continue to dope this imbecile up until I see fit. I'm tired of him harassing me left and right. I need to focus on other things right now. I have far too much going on to continue to pander to him."

"What if he wakes up?" Pilaf's voice was so aggravating, that Freeza thought of ending him just for having it. He restrained himself, nostrils flaring as he gave him a piercing stare.

"We'll say he's allowed an hour of cognizant time a day, how about that? That will account for bathroom breaks, and I suppose sunning the moron. Other than that, he is to remain asleep for as much as possible. The old fool should be so far gone now that he probably can't even think straight, so I don't worry that you'll have too many problems." Freeza's mouth quirked out, and his laugh echoed around the room as he delicately covered his lips with his fingers—ohohohoho. He spun, then, and barked a command to those Saiyans waiting in the hallway.

His spit out his orders, demanding all of his Saiyans to meet him in the driveway, so they could depart. He only paused momentarily, to level an icy gaze with Mai and Pilaf. His eyes narrowed, and his tail swirled threateningly behind him.

"If you mess this up for me in anyway, I'll see that you," he motioned sharply at Pilaf, "are detained for the rest of your natural life, and you," he shifted to Mai, "will watch me gut your little dog in front of you, before I place you to be a sparring partner for my pets. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," the three murmured, Pilaf delivering a salute, while Mai remained hunkered down on the floor. Freeza watched with satisfaction as her fingers wound tightly into the pooch's bristled fur.

"Well, then, ta-ta!" Freeza called, turning on his heel as he gave them a cheery wave. He was in quite the good mood, now. Unfortunately, it was soon to be dashed, considering he had a "family dinner" to attend.

"I don't like women."

"Perhaps you should have this conversation with someone else?" Junior regarded Vegeta with a calm look as he sipped from the drink Chi Chi had made for him. He wasn't sure why, but the diminutive Saiyan had just plopped himself down at Junior's booth, with no hello, instead assuming that this statement was a completely normal salutation.

Vegeta flushed. "Shut up, Namek, who else am I supposed to talk to? My ex employer?"

"How about your roommate?"

Vegeta fell silent, and gave an aggravated shrug. "She's on her lunch break with her boyfriend, and besides, she's the problem."

"Then the rest of that statement wasn't necessary?"

"I believe I'm at the point now where I don't like you either," Vegeta snarled, dropping his chin into his hand as he gave a pointed glare to the calm Namekian. Junior merely shrugged in response. His feelings for Vegeta were like a blank check—null and void on all counts. He didn't care or dislike the yappy Saiyan. "Regardless, I'm talking to you because you're currently around an Earth woman quite a bit."

Junior arched a brow in inquiry. "I wouldn't say that," he responded, glancing over to where he could see Chi Chi bending over to talk to a child, jotting the girl's order down with practiced ease. His eyes traveled along the wisps of hair that stuck to the sweat on her neck, and he stared at the very obvious stains that mucked up her clothes. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

"I would," Vegeta snorted, hiking his nose up in the air. "Regardless…. Your Earth woman—,"

"She's not my Earth woman."

"—does she randomly touch you for inane reasons?"

Junior paused. "Explain?"

"Bulma has an odd tendency to…" Vegeta crinkled up his nose, "touch me a lot."

"Now I want to throw up my drink—thanks, Vegeta."

"No!" Vegeta's hair practically quivered with indignation. "I just mean—hugging, or leaning on you, and such?" He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I am royalty. While I may be under the clutches of Freeza, I am still to be respected." He huffed, slamming his fist onto the table. "Yet she teases me, and touches me, and interrupts me when I speak!"

"Sounds like she thinks you're annoying," Junior offered, tilting his head. "As for the hugging thing… hm. I think humans just like it. I don't know, Gohan does it all the time. Milk doesn't hug me." He left out the few times that she had, or their movie night on the roof when she'd collapsed in his arms because… well, he couldn't say if there was an actual reason for it but, he didn't want to tell Vegeta about that.

Because there was something very intimate about holding the woman while she cried, and the fact that he'd been the one to initiate their contact in that scenario. He couldn't really ascribe it to human activities.

Vegeta peered at Junior. "So. My Earth Woman and I are closer than you are to yours?"

Junior furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"

The Saiyan cackled, leaning back with a rather haughty expression on his face. "Oh, nothing, Namek, it just seems to me that you proved that I'm far more valuable to my Earth Woman than you are to the Son woman! But, of course. A slug cannot step to a king!"

Junior counted to three, before he picked up his drink, threw it on Vegeta, and headed back to Porunga's Post, where he could see Chi Chi's surprisingly calm look as he went.

"Mom," Gohan sat in his bed, and Chi Chi paused in her tucking him, hands resting at his side as she regarded him. "How did you know you wanted to marry dad?"

Chi Chi jerked, and froze. "Oh… well, I guess I decided that I loved… your dad."

"Okay…" Gohan hummed, and leaned back on his pillows. She gave him an odd look, and tilted her head.

"Was that all, baby…?"

"Well—no." Gohan puckered his lips up. "Okay. So if you love someone, you marry them?"

"Yes, baby."

"So… I should marry Mr. Junior?"

Chi Chi choked. "Huh?"

"I love Mr. Junior, and I want to be with him forever, and I already have a dad, so I should marry him, right?" Gohan smiled up at her, so nonchalant. "Plus, before Videl and I had our fight, she said I should just marry Mr. Junior, since I like him so much."

"Gohan… marriage isn't that simple," Chi Chi replied, shaking her head. "You have to commit to someone, and really love them."

"I do love Mr. Junior!" Gohan argued, nose scrunching up as he huffily pulled his blankets up around his chin. "I want him around forever!"

Chi Chi stared at her son, completely at a loss. She was less worried about his "crush", and more concerned with how to talk him out of it. After all, it was fairly common that little children became attached to adults in their lives, and developed feelings—but it was a bit odd to imagine a kid finding anything remotely appealing about Junior.

"All right… So you want to marry Mr. Junior, huh?" Chi Chi asked, mouth turning up into a smirk. Gohan nodded. "You want to love him forever?" Nod. "You want to hug him?" Nod. "You want to live with him?"

Gohan hesitated. "Do… you get to live with us?"

"Sure, baby, sure. But let me ask the real deal breaker… would you kiss Mr. Junior?" She pressed her own little flurry of smooches to his forehead, earning her giggling protests as he fended her off.

"Ew, no," Gohan spluttered, hiding more of his face from his mother's kisses. "He's all weird and cold. Plus…" He frowned, and lowered his comforter. "I don't think I can reach him?"

"Well, if you want to marry him, you gotta kiss him," Chi Chi proclaimed, poking him in the chest. "Sorry, I don't make the rules."

Gohan huffed, and flopped back down. He glared at the ceiling. "That stinks! If I don't marry Mr. Junior, then he's gonna leave!"

Chi Chi blinked, and gave Gohan an odd look. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know…" Gohan muttered, twisting his fingers up in the blankets. "Just… seems like something that could happen."

Chi Chi sighed, and leaned forward, placing her hand on her son's shoulder. "Honey, I doubt Mr. Junior is going anywhere. He loves you very much."

"You always say dad loves us, and he leaves."

"Mr. Junior and your father are two very different people," she replied. "Your father… he does love you. He's just—in love with fighting as well…" She chewed the inside of her lip. "And as much as I would rather him stay at home with us…"

Gohan sighed, and glanced up at the ceiling. "I guess…" He looked back down at her. "So, I guess marrying Mr. Junior wouldn't even make him stay, would it?"

Chi Chi pressed her lips into a thin line. "No, I'm afraid not."

He nodded, face solemn. "That sucks."

"Gohan!"

Chapter

"Marriage"

"So, um…"

"Silence, brat." Vegeta's expression was haughty as he regarded Gohan, and the little boy frowned down at the table. They were sitting in the Brief's kitchen, both of them seated across from one another. Gohan had been left to his own devices, since his mother had come over to work out, and Mr. Junior hadn't been home. Bulma had given him access to pretty much the entire compound, but he'd quickly grown hungry after delving into the mountain of books that comprised the library. He'd stumbled upon the kitchen by sheer dumb luck, and saw that Vegeta was also sitting in a seat, looking like his usual self.

Gohan still didn't know how to feel about the Saiyan. He wanted to like the man, but everything about him made Gohan nervous. From their initial meeting, to his general attitude. However, it was hard to take him too serious, especially since Gohan had seen Bulma insult the man every which way, just to earn a grumbled complaint.

"How was your day…?" Gohan tried to open conversation, to perhaps enjoy Vegeta's company. He was immediately shut down.

"It was perfectly horrid," Vegeta replied, giving Gohan a very pointed look. "As is everyday I'm forced to spend with the blue haired she-devil your mother calls a friend."

"Ah." They lapsed into silence, then, with Gohan clutching at one of the books he'd brought with him. "Well… um. Could you make me something to eat?" He was really hungry, and just simple snack food wasn't going to cut it. His mom didn't allow him to cook, though—something about how he might be as destructive as his father.

Vegeta scoffed, and gave Gohan an incredulous look. "Me, make you food?! Are you insane?"

"I mean, not particularly…"

"You must be!" Vegeta slammed his fist down on the table. "I am your prince, heir to the king, and you're demanding that I make food for you?!"

Gohan stared in bafflement. "We live in a democracy…"

Vegeta sneered. "Ugh. It must be the human bred into you. If we were on our home planet, I would be your ruler."

"But we're not."

"But if we were."

"But… we're not." Gohan wrinkled up his nose. "You're just the only adult around, so I asked you for food." He pouted, and glared down at his book. "I didn't think you'd be so rude."

The Saiyan shifted, and gave the boy an angry glance. "When did you get a spine? I remember you being a quiet little runt by the Namekian."

Gohan shrugged, and puffed out his cheeks. "Videl's helping me work on my aggression."

Vegeta actually gave him a look of approval, and a quick nod. "As it should be."

They were distracted as a blonde lady entered the room, her curly hair bouncing around her smiling face. She tittered as she entered. "Hello, boys!" she cheered. "I heard you pounding on the table, Prince Vegeta," she cooed. "Are you hungry?"

"Of course, woman," he scoffed, haughty look returning as he practically quivered with the pride that came with his title. Gohan stared at him, completely baffled. On another planet, Vegeta could have been his ruler…?

"And you, little man?" the woman had turned her attention to him, and Gohan flushed.

"O-oh yes, ma'am, I'm hungry…"

"Please, call me Bunny!" she giggled. "Now—I know what our little Prince likes, what about you, honey?"

"I'll eat anything you make," Gohan replied, hoping to be a good guest. "Just… um… no tomatoes, okay?"

"Of course," Bunny responded, turning around. "How about steak. How many do you want dear?"

"At least seven," Gohan enthused. Vegeta gave a derisive snort.

"Weak. I'll take eight."

Gohan arched his brows at the Saiyan. "Wow, you eat a lot less than my dad! I thought it was a Saiyan thing, but I guess not. He usually eats ten or more."

Vegeta's face turned red as he spluttered, and slammed his fist against the table once more. "Change my order, woman! I wish to raise it to eleven!"

"Oh goodness!" Bunny twittered, pressing her hands to her cheeks. She was practically bouncing on her toes as she whirled around. "I do love having you growing young boys here! My darling and Bulma never let me cook this much!" Then she was off, racing to the ice box, as Vegeta and Gohan settled back in their seats.

"Ten steaks… bah! I will surpass him!" Vegeta snarled, though Gohan had a feeling it wasn't directed at him.

Chi Chi started her stretches, arching her back, and pulling her legs up behind her. She was just finishing with her warm up, when she heard a door open and close. Turning, she was startled by Junior standing there, frumpy purple clothes and all.

He blinked, ears twitching as he stared at her. "I didn't realize you were here," Junior mumbled, hands stuffed in his pockets as he approached.

"Well, Bulma apparently started this whole training thing with Vegeta, and she wants to work out together now. Something about seeing how far she's come." Chi Chi tilted her head, feeling the wisps of her ponytail against her neck, as she stretched her arm high. "I'm just doing my warm up before she gets here."

Junior grunted. "Where's the kid?"

"He's in the complex. Bulma assured me that anything that was dangerous was on lock down, and that her mother and father know that he's here, so they're keeping watch." Chi Chi pulled her right leg up, clasping the knee as she held her position. "I'm surprised you're working out, though?"

"Gets me out of the house," he replied, sitting down on the nearest bench.

"I see… oh, you'll get a kick out of this!" Chi Chi released her foot, and shot Junior a sly grin. "Gohan said that he wanted to marry you."

Junior gave her a disturbed look, mouth slightly open as he regarded her. "Excuse me?"

Chi Chi giggled. "It was kind of cute… but don't worry, I talked him out of it. I can't have him marrying a delinquent like you."

"Oh, ha. Ha. Milk, you're a comedic genius." Junior rolled his eyes. "Anyways, you shouldn't be laughing about this. That kid's demented if he wants to marry a Namek."

Chi Chi frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," Junior grunted, setting the weight amount as he slid back in his seat, grasping the bars, "we're big, ugly, green aliens, what other reason do you want?" He snorted, forearms pressing to the metal as he heaved forward, the weights clanking as they lowered.

"I might have thought that at first," she mused, feeling something squirming in her stomach. "But I suppose now… I think Gohan could have picked worse." She winked at him, and watched as his face flushed purple, and the machine snapped his arms back faster than anticipated.

"Thanks," he grumbled, only looking at her once before completely turning his face away. Chi Chi smiled, and left it at that. She really didn't want to admit that what she'd once found ridiculous—with his constant state of embarrassment—she now found… kind of cute.

"Mom, Junior!" Gohan flopped down between the two adults, earning him a disgruntled noise from both. "Videl's having a costume party! She said I could bring guests!" He'd just gotten off the phone with the girl. Technically her father was throwing the party, and Videl had begged to for him to come and keep her company. He'd agreed, on the chance that he got to bring along some company.

"Oh?" Chi Chi smiled down at him, ruffling his hair as she started the movie. "And who were you planning on bringing?"

"Couldn't be all of those friends you have," Junior commented, earning him a pouty look from Gohan. Crossing his arms huffily, Gohan pulled his knees up to his chest, and glared at the TV screen.

"Junior, don't be a jerk," Chi Chi chided, prodding Gohan's shoulder. "Come on, baby, go ahead." Beside them, Junior rolled his eyes.

Gohan turned his nose up. "No, you guys are mean! Maybe I'll go invite Dende!"

"If you invite Dende, then Nail has to come. Do you really want to deal with him?" the Namekian shifted, hitching his mouth up into a grin as Gohan hesitated.

"Well…" he frowned. "I guess not. Fine. You and mom are re-invited."

"You never invited us the first time," Junior supplied.

"Junior," Chi Chi said, voice testy as she glared at him. "Gohan's trying to be nice. I know it's almost impossible for you, but try not to be a complete anus."

"All right, Milk, all right," he subsided, ear tips twitching as he tilted his head down to Gohan. "Regardless, I'm not going." Chi Chi's eyes bored into him. "… thanks, though." That earned him a head nod.

"I'll go to keep an eye on you," Chi Chi said, humming, "but I don't know if I'll dress up… I just want to make sure nothing happens." She and Junior shared a look—every time Gohan went to Satan's house, something bad happened.

Gohan sighed, and stared at his lap. "But if you don't dress up, and Mr. Junior doesn't go… I don't want to go. It just sounded really fun to have you both there…" He loved hanging out with Videl, but he'd really been looking forward to spending the time with the two of them. Part of him felt like… it would feel like he was bringing his mom and dad.

Chi Chi softened, and she could see Junior was wilting as well, the movie rolling in the background as the two adults sat, obviously thinking. Finally, Junior sighed, and tilted his head back. It thumped against the sofa, and Chi Chi stared at the line of his neck.

"Fine," Junior groaned, earning him a beaming grin from Gohan. Chi Chi found herself smiling as well, rather excited at the prospect of actually bringing Junior along. It would keep her occupied, and give her someone to talk to at a party full of strangers.

"Yay!" Gohan cheered, clapping his hands together. He immediately wrapped his tiny arms around both adults—though with Junior it was more of Gohan awkwardly gripping at his back—and cheered.

"I feel like you're getting too good at manipulating me, kid," Junior griped, hitching his mouth at an angle as he glared down at mother and son. Gohan merely giggled, while Chi Chi smirked.

"Oh, you enjoy it," she argued, proffering him a wink. His cheeks tainted purple as he grumbled a 'whatever', and ducked his head away from them. She felt her stomach churn, and she bit her lip lightly.

"And mom, I know you don't want to dress up, but you have to!" Gohan glanced at her, and Chi Chi grimaced. "But! I'll be in charge of your costumes, so don't worry!" He bounced eagerly in place, while Chi Chi and Junior shared another look over the top of the boy's head.

"Gohan, how exactly are you going to make costumes?" Chi Chi prompted, but she was silenced by Gohan once more focusing on the TV—almost as if he just now realized that they were indeed in the middle of a movie night.

Junior shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back, pressing his elbows on top of the back to the couch. Chi Chi leaned back as well, feeling Junior's finger tips just barely brushing against her shoulder. She looked over to him, and made eye contact, but he didn't move. She decided she didn't really mind it all that much, anyways.

The next day, Chi Chi was down in the kitchen, scrubbing at dishes. She heard the doors swing open behind her, and grabbed another plate.

"Hey, Bulma—will you start another pot going?" she called, sudsy hands swiping at her forehead as she pushed hair back.

She heard a deep chuckle behind her, and yelped, whirling around. Her wet hands gripped at the rim of the sink, as she stared, wide-eyed, at Junior. His fangs were showing as he grinned at her, his hip pressed against one of the counters as he crossed his arms, frumpy t-shirt crinkled.

"For a 'martial artist', you sure aren't very aware of your surroundings," he shifted forward, and Chi Chi rolled her eyes.

"Oh, what the hell do you know?" Chi Chi demanded. "I'm perfectly aware." She poked her finger into his chest.

"Are you?" Junior's voice was a low rumble, and he lifted his hand, catching her own. She jerked in surprise, as his other cold palm came to rest on her hip. "You don't seem very aware to me…" He bent forward, face drawing closer to hers as his antennae lightly landed on her forehead.

"Junior—," she gulped, feeling his breath ghosting against her. He was bent nearly double, and she'd never thought of how big he really was, until his huge hand was spanning her waist, thumb residing on her ribcage.

"What is it, Chi Chi?" he murmured, and she could practically feel his voice thrumming through her. It was so deep…

"You… you said my name," it was all she could think of as he was lifting her up, her bottom coming to rest on the wet edge of the sink.

"Of course," he chuckled, cheek touching hers as she could feel his breath ghosting over her ear. She shuddered. "Unless you'd prefer I called you Milk…" She swore she could feel kisses just fluttering against her jawline, and she yelped—

She sat up, wide-eyed, in bed. Desperately, she clutched at her blankets, gasping as she stared into the gloom of her bedroom. Gasping, she shot a look to the alarm clock, where it read 2 am. She shook her head, scrubbing at her eyes. Her heart was racing as she desperately grabbed for her phone on the nightstand. Chi Chi unplugged it so quick the charger came flying out of the wall.

Shakily, she scrolled through her contacts, and pressed the one she was looking for. The dial tone buzzed in her ear, before a sleepy, "hello?" came muzzily through the phone.

"Bulma—I… I just had the freakiest dream!"

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