The night rolled on and the party showed no signs of disbanding. Master Roshi had wheeled out the karaoke machine while Hana was talking to Piccolo, and now Puar and Oolong were singing sappy duets, belting out notes together into the lone microphone. Drinks were downed quicker than new ones could be mixed up, though Hana still had not indulged. By ten-thirty, Chi-Chi was itching to leave and told Gohan to say his goodbyes.

"But mom…"

"No, Gohan, we've already stayed much longer than I planned. And it's your bedtime now. So come on, get ready to go."

The boy groaned and kicked the sand. "Fine." He found Piccolo sitting beneath one of the palm trees and got a farewell pat on the top of his head.

Hana watched them from far-off, wishing she could listen in on their conversation. She always wondered what those two spoke about when no one else could hear.

The boy dragged his feet as he took his place at his mother's side. Chi-Chi hugged Bulma and said goodbye to Master Roshi. "It was so nice to see all of you," she said. "Thank you for thinking of me and Gohan. We appreciate the kindness."

Master Roshi held her hand in his and squeezed. "Like always, Chi-Chi, if you and your son need anything, just let us know. It can't be easy not having Goku around to help."

"It's been all right," she said. "I have Hana to help Gohan with his studies. She even helps me cook and do chores in the evenings. And Piccolo…well, he's always around."

"That has to be strange," said Bulma, acting out a little shiver. "He still kinda gives me the creeps sometimes."

Chi-Chi puffed out a weary breath. "I guess I've gotten used to him. He's more of a nuisance than anything, really. But I suppose if anything were ever to happen—if someone should attack the house, Kami forbid—it's good that he's close by."

That was the highest praise Hana had ever heard Chi-Chi give to Piccolo. And even then, it wasn't much.

Chi-Chi turned to her. "Are you coming with us, dear? Or were you planning to stay?"

"Um…"

"Mr. Piccolo can take her home if she wants to stay," said Gohan.

"I-I guess maybe he can, yeah," Hana replied. "I should go ask him if that's all right." But as she turned to find him, she nearly bumped right into his stomach. How long had he been waiting there for her?

"It's fine," he told her. "Just tell me when you want to go." And he went back to the palm trees and sat down to meditate, though not before stifling another sneeze. Hana's eyes lingered sympathetically on him for a moment longer. He didn't have to stick around. Gohan was leaving and he could've left too. Getting a ride home from Krillin or Bulma would've been easy enough for her. But no, Piccolo was opting to stay.

Chi-Chi got Hana's things out from the air-car and helped Gohan with his seatbelt ("I can do it myself, mom!"). When they were ready, the two of them waved goodbye for the last time and sped off towards home.

Master Roshi returned to the karaoke machine, but Bulma sidled up to Hana. "Hey, how old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-six."

Bulma's face brightened. "Just what I was hoping to hear. Wanna split a bottle of wine?"

"That…sounds really great, actually."

.

.

The two girls retreated into the house and found a quiet spot at the kitchen table. Yamcha had insisted on showing off a new sparring technique, but Bulma wasn't interested. Outside the window they could still hear the stereo and Krillin and Chiaotzu talking excitedly to each other. Hana thought it polite to invite Maron to join her and Bulma, but Bulma quickly hushed her up. "I've had to listen to that pipsqueak talk all afternoon," she said. "I will seriously lose it if I have to hear about her dream wedding dress one more time."

Though it felt a bit rude, Hana agreed.

Bulma popped a bottle of chardonnay and they got to talking. She wanted to know how the Sons were dealing with Goku's absence, how Gohan was doing, even what Piccolo had been up to. And Hana asked everything she could about Goku, the dragon balls, and what happened on Namek. The more Bulma drank the more animated her stories became. It was like watching a one-woman play. Her anecdotes had everything—intrigue, humor, tragedy, drama, romance, handsome aliens—and she even tried to do voices, though not very well.

When her Namek story was over, she poured herself a third glass. "Are you slowing down already?" she asked. Hana had barely touched her second, but she already felt lightheaded.

"My ex always used to say I was a cheap date."

Bulma made a face. "Ex-boyfriend, eh? What's the story there? Who broke up with who?"

"I broke up with him."

"Atta girl."

Hana laughed and took a sip. "It wasn't anything dramatic. We just weren't right together."

"Ah, bedroom troubles," Bulma said with a wink.

"No, nothing like that! I just—I wanted more from the relationship than he was willing to give. I guess in the end I kinda had enough and let him off the hook. It's been about a year now, I think."

Bulma lifted her glass. "A toast to kicking little boys to the curb." They clinked and drank.

"But anyway, what about you and Yamcha?" Hana asked. "You guys are dating, right? I mean, you seem pretty close, so I just assumed."

"Yeah, I guess we're dating. I can never tell with him. Don't get me wrong, I love the stupid idiot, and I'm happy he was wished back. I just have this weird feeling like something's changed between us and I can't put my finger on what it might be." Bulma shrugged and swirled her glass around. "Eh, it bores me just to think about it. What about you? Is there someone new you've got your eye on?"

"Hardly." Hana felt her cheeks getting red, as if they weren't already red from the wine. "When I'm not tutoring, I'm grading or sleeping. I don't really have much opportunity to meet new guys."

Bulma pondered this for a moment and then said, slyly, "You met a new guy tonight."

Hana already knew what she was getting at. "Tien? I dunno, he seems sweet enough, but—"

"Do you think he's cute?"

For the second time that week, Hana was getting high school déjà vu. "Well, sure, but Bulma—"

"Then it's perfect, right? C'mon, I'll tell him you think he's cute, and then you can ask him to dance, and then I just know you guys will—"

"No!" Hana yelped, grabbing Bulma's wrist. "No, no, please. There is someone I've got my eye on, all right? But I feel dumb enough about it already, and I don't want anyone to know. Just please promise me you'll keep it to yourself. Chi-Chi probably wouldn't be very happy with me if she knew."

Bulma's eyes widened and her red lips pulled up in an excited grin. "Oh my god. You like Piccolo."

"Yes." Hana buried her face in her hands.

"This is the greatest thing I've ever heard in my entire life. Does he know?"

"No. And he never will because I'm never going to tell him."

"What?! Why?"

"Because there's no way on earth he likes me back. I mean, yeah, he said I was his friend, but I don't think for a minute that he could—"

"Woah, woah, woah." Bulma put up her hands, a look of absolute shock on her face. "He said you were his friend? His friend? He actually said that to you?"

Hana nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Girl, he might as well have just proposed to you. Do you have any idea how he operates? He has one friend. One. Gohan. He treats the kid like his own son. He's laid down his life for him. So for Piccolo to call you his friend…" Bulma heaved an awesome sigh. "Wow."

Hana chugged the rest of her wine and stared miserably at the table. "It sure doesn't feel that way. I still get this impression that he barely tolerates me."

"Have a little more confidence in yourself. Here, I'll help." Bulma emptied the bottle into Hana's glass.

"Thanks."

"C'mon, enough with the glum face. Drink that up and let's go dance or something."

Hana managed a grin. "Okay."

.

.

Yamcha shifted his weight in the sand. "Your left foot should be further out," he said to Krillin, who was mirroring his pose across from him. "And then you swing your other foot over like this." He demonstrated.

"Like this?"

"Yeah, yeah, you got it. But your shoulders should be facing this way…"

Master Roshi noticed Hana and Bulma rejoining the group and lowered his sunglasses at them. "Up to no good, eh, ladies?"

"Looks like drinking and gossiping to me," said Yamcha, earning himself a swift kick in the shin.

"So what if it was?" Bulma spat.

Hana sat at the picnic table and helped herself to a slice of watermelon, watching the couple argue.

"Are you having a good night?" came a voice from beside her. It was Tien, taking a seat. In the lights from the trees and the flames of the tiki torches, his three eyes glowed so strangely.

"I am, actually, yeah."

Puar and Oolong finally hung up their microphones and bowed to spattered applause. Had they really been singing karaoke for that long? Oolong flipped the stereo back on and changed it to something mellow. Tien rubbed his arms and Hana felt his weight shift on the bench. He really did have quite the handsome profile, with his square jaw and pointed nose. And his biceps were out-of-this-world ridiculous…

Chiaotzu popped up in between them and tugged their sleeves. "Neither of you have danced yet," he scolded. "Don't you think it's about time?"

Hana and Tien looked at each other.

Chiaotzu yanked them off the bench with surprising strength and pushed them towards the music. "Well go on, go on!"

Tien had gone completely red-faced. "I-I don't—Chiaotzu—"

"Hey, no worries," Hana said, taking his hand. "It's a party, isn't it? So why not? Just follow my lead."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

For being a martial artist, and a damn good one at that, Tien sure couldn't dance to save his life. He kept stepping on her toes and fumbling the footing, and they weren't even dancing anything complicated. Master Roshi and the others gathered round, watching the two of them plodding through the song. Hana just laughed, which probably only hindered his concentration, but she couldn't help it. He was an absolute trainwreck on the dance floor.

When he ground his heel into the top of her foot, she stopped laughing and started wailing. "Owww ow ow!"

"Oh—shit! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—I-I'm sorry!"

Hana held onto his shoulders and bounced on her good foot. "Not your fault! Oww ow."

"Nice goin', Tien!" said Yamcha through cupped hands. "Instead of fighting Nappa, you should've just asked him to dance."

Tien bristled. "Remind me again how you died?"

"How dare you."

An angry baritone cut in. "What are you children bickering about now?" Piccolo descended on the scene with a dramatic billow of his cape. He surveyed the situation and settled his attention on Hana. "Are you all right?"

She realized she was still clinging to Tien and let go, balancing gingerly on one foot. "Oh sure. Just a bruise."

Piccolo frowned. "You're bleeding, actually."

"Am I?" Indeed, she was. Tien must have tore the skin with the heel of his shoe.

"I'm really very sorry," said Tien. "Here, let me help—"

Piccolo shoved him aside and swept Hana up in his arms. "I'd sooner trust you with a houseplant," he sneered, and he turned from everyone and carried her into the house.

"Really now," said Hana, "you're making an awfully big fuss. It's not that bad." Piccolo sat her down on the window seat and left to fetch a few things from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, he knelt down in front of her, slipped off her shoe, and began to tend to her injured foot.

He said nothing as he worked, cleaning the blood from her skin.

The rubbing alcohol stung and Hana flinched. "Mmn." But as she watched, Piccolo parted his lips and blew on the wound just as she had done for him. She wanted to say something clever but no words would come.

He tore a length of gauze bandaging and wrapped it carefully around her foot. His hands were slow as he tended to her, his movements practiced, patient. Kind.

"My feet actually look small in your hands," she said, amused by the sight.

"Your feet are small," he replied. "Your everything is small."

She wasn't sure if he meant that as a compliment, but that was certainly how she was going to take it. At the moment she felt anything but small. Sitting the way she was, the dress pinched into her sides and stomach, and she had to press her thighs together to keep from flashing him. Why on earth did Chi-Chi even own this dress? It was nothing but a nuisance.

Piccolo tied off the bandages and Hana wiggled her toes. "You really didn't have to do this, y'know," she said. He lifted his eyes to hers, and she greeted his gaze with a smile. "But…it's nice that you did. Thank you."

"Only returning the favor."

Hana got up and tried to put weight on the foot but it was still too sore to support her. "W-woah." She forced her hands down on Piccolo's caped shoulders to keep herself upright. "Sorry, just gimme a sec."

"Take your time." His voice was oddly quiet and comforting.

The pale light from outside rested on his stoic face. Those three glasses of wine coursing through Hana's bloodstream were giving her awful ideas. How simple it would've been to just lean forward and press her lips to his…

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Hana tested her foot again. She was ready this time and leaned most of her weight on the other leg. "There we go. That's better."

Piccolo rose from his knees, watching her hobble experimentally around the room. "Would you like for me to take you home now?"

She glanced at the clock hanging over the kitchen counter—it was nearly midnight. "That's probably a good ide—oof!" She tripped on her backpack left by the sofa and fell ass over teakettle onto the carpet. The walls spun for a second and then she was fine. Her dress, however, was not. She'd managed to tear the skirt seam all the way up her thigh to her hip. "Oh no!"

Piccolo went to her and kept her from trying to stand just yet. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah, just my pride," she said. She held the rip closed around her thigh, mortified beyond belief. "And maybe my dignity a little. Man, look at this dress, though. Chi-Chi's gonna be so upset."

"Well at least now you have an excuse to change into something else." The weird relief in his tone made Hana raise an eyebrow at him. His ears went purple. "Err, I didn't mean—you don't look—"

"No, that's okay," she said with a tired laugh. "I'm well aware that I look like twelve hams in a trash bag."

"It's not…that bad." He scratched at the back of his head, staring the dress down. "But how about this?" Before she had a chance to ask him to finish his thought, he pressed two sturdy fingers to her breastbone. Light exploded from his fingertips and engulfed her in warmth, tingling and bright. She knew that light. And when it faded, she stopped squinting and immediately checked the dress, expecting to see the tear repaired. What she saw instead was quite different.

"Oh my goodness…"

The dress was pale green and soft and covered her shoulders and arms and knees. Around her middle was a pastel pink sash which matched the small patterns of flowers that bloomed along the skirt. She had never worn anything so lovely in all her life. She traced the blossoms and felt along the decadent lace sleeves, her vision misting over.

"Is this one acceptable?" Piccolo asked.

All she could manage was a reverent whisper. "It's beautiful."

"Then it suits you perfectly."

Her eyes went to his face. This time there was no mistaking the compliment. "Thank you, Piccolo. I…needed that tonight." She smiled softly, giving his knee an affectionate pat.

He gulped. His ears were blushing again. "Hana—"

The front door opened and both of them yelped. Hana pulled her hand from Piccolo's knee just as Krillin and Maron came inside. Krillin had both his arms wrapped around Maron's waist and the two of them were giggling like high school sweethearts. "How's it going in here?" he asked. "What're you guys, uh…doing?"

"Ooo, looks private," Maron said coyly.

Piccolo hurried to his feet and shoved through the two lovebirds to get outside.

"H-hey!" Hana called after him. She stood with some effort and went to the door, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Had he already left so fast?

Krillin huffed. "Well what the heck was his problem?"

The moon and stars were all Hana could see in the sky. She looked from one to the other, hoping to catch a glimpse of his white cape in the moonlight in spite of her mounting despair. He didn't seem to be returning any time soon. "He's a jerk," she said, shoulders sagging. "That's his problem."

Krillin chuckled under his breath. "That's not exactly news to me."

Hana kicked a seashell by her foot. "Me neither." She kept a lookout for another moment or so before turning back to Krillin and Maron with a sad, embarrassed grin. "And unfortunately, that jerk was my ride home."

.

.

The air-car touched down at the curb in front of the little blue house on the coast. The streetlamps cut through the late-night fog. Bulma set the parking brake and peered into the back seat at her passenger. "Home sweet home," she said. "Pretty cute place you got here."

"Thanks," said Hana, and as Yamcha got out to open the car door for her she gave her thanks a second time. "I appreciate the lift. It was really nice to meet you guys tonight. I had a lot of fun."

Yamcha gave her a too-rough pat on the back. "Us, too. Hey, if we ever all get together again sometime, consider yourself invited. Give Tien a chance to redeem himself on the dance floor." He laughed and it echoed across the empty cul-de-sac.

"Deal," said Hana. She fished her keys from her purse. "Thanks again, you two, truly. Sorry you had to go so far out of your way. Let me run inside real quick and I'll grab you some gas money."

"No, no!" said Bulma. "Wouldn't dream of it. If anyone should be paying for anything, it's Piccolo. It's not your fault he bailed."

"I guess…"

"And hey," Bulma continued, fixing her with a meaningful stare, "try not to get too discouraged, okay?"

Hana felt hot pinpricks at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled and willed them away. "I'll try. Thanks, Bulma."

Yamcha looked between the two girls and scratched at the nape of his neck. "Am I missing something? Are you speaking in code?"

Bulma let out an exasperated groan. "Don't worry your pretty head, Yamcha, just get your fine ass back in the car."

Hana waved goodbye to them and went to unlock the door. When she made it inside, the house was black and soundless. She stepped out of her shoes and left her purse and backpack in the hall. Her feet carried her to the sliding glass door past the living room and out onto the wooden deck.

She leaned on the railing. It was good to be home. Resting her chin on her palm, she gazed out at the wide expanse of dark ocean beyond the shoreline.

Even after taking Bulma's words to heart, she couldn't help but think she was partially to blame. Maybe she'd been too forward with Piccolo, got under his skin a little too much. She probably would've driven him off regardless of whether or not they were interrupted.

Piccolo was big and stern and imposing, but get too close and he was gone—like approaching a stag in the wild.

For a long time, she watched the water and felt sorry for herself.

"Just another guy you're gonna chase away in the end," she said, letting the distant crash of the waves swallow her voice. "Can't ever pick the easy ones, can you."

The sound of shifting tile came from the roof. Hana craned her neck to see, but it was too dark to make out anything. She chalked it up to sea gulls or the strong winds moving in from the south. She shivered, rubbing her arms, and went back inside to get ready for bed.

.

.

Piccolo stood with shoulders flush against the chimney. She'd nearly spotted him.

He let go of a held breath, fists forming at his sides. "Coward. Just go say something to her." But he couldn't bring himself to move, nor could he stand to leave. He felt pinned, frozen in place, out of control. His discipline was slipping. "What the hell's the matter with me…"

.

.

THANK YOU for reading! Apologies for updating much later than my projection. I was battling writer's block and tonsillitis at the same time. My job has me working closely with children, so unfortunately I do tend to catch the odd germ or two from them. I'm mostly recovered now and am writing fine again. I hope the next chapter will be finished by Sunday - wish me luck!