There was originally going to be more, but it's probably not happening, haha. Thank you to Flaming Reaper for alerting me to upload problem.

"Um," Gohan glanced at the clock. "I mean, I can take a break. I'm finished with physics anyway and that's the most complicated thing I have to worry about today."

Piccolo grunted and jerked his head towards the living room.

"Well, if you've got a minute..." He trailed off, pursing his lips. Gohan tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. Piccolo's ears flicked; the boy looked confused, even a little concerned. Great. That was the last thing he needed... The namekian turned and lead Gohan out of the kitchen.

"Piccolo, your ki is blitzing all over the place, what's going on?" The worry was evident, easy to hear. Piccolo wondered, yet again, how the boys would react. Gohan, surely, would be fine... Goten was used to being the baby, even though he was almost six. And yet... Gohan had known how it felt to have his biological parents married and... He swallowed.

There were two ways this could go… Either Gohan would be thrilled, recognizing this child as a culmination of years of love and stability, or… Or some part of him that had perhaps clung to his parents' relationship would be hurt by the finality. "Piccolo?" Gohan's voice was hesitant.

The namekian raised a hand to his forehead, kneading the skin above his nose. This was... Harder than he thought it would be...

"Sit," he muttered, gesturing vaguely to the couch. He heard the cushions creak under Gohan's weight. Piccolo sighed gingerly lowered himself onto the couch next to Gohan.

His best friend.

His son.

Even if their relationship had begun with a ...rocky... start, even though there was only the blood they had spilled together shared between them, even though Gohan had grown up knowing a different father, unlike Goten...

Gohan was his son. Hell, the boy had called him "dad" a few times. He didn't give a damn that they were on accident... It felt more natural when it slipped out from between the teenager's lips.

Piccolo turned to face Gohan, hands fidgeting in his lap. He must have been the picture of anxiety, he thought as Gohan's arms wrapped around him in an awkward hug.

"Piccolo," Gohan withdrew, face scrunched with brow drawn concern, "are things alright? With you and Mom? I mean, she seems fine, and if things weren't fine she'd..." He trailed off, and Piccolo nudged the boy's knee with his own.

"Things are fine, Kid. Just..." the namekian paused, unsure if he should just drop the bomb or ease into it. "But things around here - the house, life in general - are..." Another break, "things are going to change. Soon." Gohan looked alarmed, and Piccolo kicked himself for not practicing the art of communication more frequently. "For the better, I hope."

Silence hung between them for a moment; Piccolo could almost see Gohan's amazing brain jumping to thousands of different thoughts. Gohan's eyes then widened, and he brought a hand to his mouth.

"D-do you mean?" The teen's voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

"I'm... I'm pregnant. Yeah."

"O-oh my gosh, Piccolo!" Gohan choked, arms shooting out to embrace him, only to jerk back before reaching him. "I'm afraid I'll crush you in excitement, gimme a minute," he laughed, flapping his hands around his head and standing up. Piccolo felt relief seep over him like the warmth from a hot bath as he watched Gohan dance across the floor for a solid three minutes before being composed enough to give a non-lethal hug. "A baby! A real baby! I'm gonna be a brother! Again!"

Lips twitching into a smile, caught up in Gohan's infectious excitement, Piccolo relaxed. "Did you just find out today?" Gohan asked, giving him one more gentle squeeze. The namekian inclined his head as he straightened. "Wow," the teenager shook his head, "oh gosh, Piccolo, you must be so excited!" The namekian closed his eyes, nodding slowly.

"Nervous, but… yes, I am excited."

He felt Gohan's hands on his shoulders, and he opened his eyes, meeting the sparkling gaze of his dearest friend.

"You're gonna be a great dad, Piccolo." Gohan's eyes softened, "you already are."

"So," Goten cocked his head to the side, dark hair flopping over with the movement. He needed a haircut, Piccolo thought, even if the longer locks accentuated the side of him that was so reminiscent of Chichi. "I'm gonna be a big brother now? Like Gohan?"

Piccolo, sitting cross-legged on the floor with the boy in his lap, nodded.

"Just like Gohan," he confirmed, smiling softly. Goten chewed his lip for a moment before looking quizzically at his mother, who leaned gently on Piccolo's shoulder.

"But Mommy's not the one who's gonna have the baby?"

Chichi shook her head, her hair making a soft sound as it slipped around her shoulders.

"Nope, Papa's having the baby."

Goten looked contemplative for a moment, little lips pursed so thin they were almost invisible. Just like his mother.

"I think I'm the only kid in school whose Papa's having a baby. I'm pretty sure."

Piccolo snorted, and Chichi reached out a hand to smooth Goten's bangs out of his eyes.

"Probably, Little One. Although you never know," she murmured with a smile audible in her voice. "How do you feel about being a big brother?"

Goten beamed up at them before scrambling forward and doing his best to embrace Piccolo, little arms only getting to the edges of the namekian's broad chest. Piccolo smiled and scooped him up closer to his face. Goten planted a kiss on his cheek.

"It's gonna be awesome!" he giggled, hugging Piccolo's neck. "And it means I'm not the baby anymore!"

"For another four months you are!" Chichi chided, and Piccolo shook his head and set Goten back down. The five year old scrunched his face.

"No, the baby is the baby now!"

Chichi was still in the bathroom when he crawled into their bed, utterly exhausted. At least being pregnant explained his increased fatigue. He had been attributing it how damn cold it had been.

The timeline of a namekian pregnancy, according to Dende, lasted about four months. That meant his baby would come in late March. Tentatively, he touched his chest, right over where he knew his womb was located. It was...unnerving...to not have any idea how his child felt...where was their lifeforce? Their ki? Piccolo lay on his side, back to the bathroom, facing the window, hand on his chest.

When would be able to feel it? His baby's ki? The namekian closed his eyes, rolling onto his back and inhaling deeply through his nose. He focused on breathing, feeling his belly rise until his lungs were full, the hand on his chest relatively still. Exhale through his mouth, body deflating. Repeat.

"You okay, Piccolo?"

The mattress creaked and sank as Chichi joined him. She had the good sense to climb under the covers, he could tell from the tug of the sheets under him.

"Just thinking."

"You and your meditation," his wife murmured, flicking off the lamp on the bedside table. Piccolo grunted, but she only laughed and wrapped her arms around his elbow, resting her cheek on his bicep. "Are you gonna look at me or are you off in La La Land?"
"It's not 'La La Land, Chich," he replied in retort, cracking open an eye and smirking down at her. "It's my inner peaceful zone."

"That's Picklish for 'La La Land,' and you know it." Piccolo snorted but did not deny it. Rather, he freed his arm from her grasp and pulled her close to his chest as he shifted to face her. "Pic - God, I was almost comfortable."

"This is better."

"Is it?" But she was smiling, hair pulled back in a loose braid, and looking up at him. She was so small, especially compared to him.

Would the baby be small like her? He hoped that the baby would have her eyes. He hoped that their baby would be more like her than like him. She was sweet where he was bitter, tried to believe that emotions were not a sign of weakness, and so full of love it spilled over in a warm, deep burgundy wave.

Piccolo sighed into her hair, closing his eyes…

The following morning was hell.

Chichi was crouched behind him, rubbing his back and murmuring encouragement as he yet again turned his stomach inside out. How long was this going to last? Surely not the whole four months? Vaguely, he recalled Chichi's pregnancy with Goten as he gagged over the toilet bowl. She had been sick nearly the whole damn time! And he had attributed it to the stress of losing her husband. Honestly, it was no wonder Goten had decided that thirty-three weeks was was enough time to hang out in her womb before clawing his way out…

"Sucks, don't it?" Chichi's fingers rubbed at knots in his trapezius. "At least you only ate a little oatmeal."

"And I'll never eat it again," Piccolo replied, wiping his mouth with toilet paper and spitting several times. He flushed the unfortunate remains of his would-be breakfast down the drain and leaned back against her. "I'll stick to those herbs and mint tea and water for the remainder of this ordeal."

"That's a strong word," his wife mused, continuing to massage the musculature of his neck and upper back. "I know it's awful, but this is - supposedly - a good sign of hormone balances." Piccolo grunted, and Chichi continued. "But it's...well, you get a baby at the end of it."

"You mean we, right?" he smirked, looking up at her with slightly bloodshot, tired eyes. She smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Brush your teeth and get dressed, we're going into town to buy baby things."

He made a noise of protest, but knew it was fruitless.

"Fine," the namekian muttered. "But I'm not cleaning up if I get sick while we're out."

"Lucky for you I ain't afraid of a bit of a mess." His wife helped pull him to his feet, inspecting his shirt. "Toss that in the hamper, will ya?"