Okay...I know I'm INSANE for starting another FIC...but I'm actually getting far enough with the others that I thought, what the hell? Why not.

This is an oldie that has been revamped HEAVILY because the four chapter thing that it was is and still IS horrible in its raw form, as I explain in a moment.

Before you get all apeshit nuts and say "NEW FIC!" guess what? It's AU. No, I AU.

There is NOTHING DBZ related in this fic except in references to the past. The Goku and Vegeta you know and love, are...well, you'll see in the beginning of the fic, now won't you?

Same warnings as within my other stories: MPREG, SLASH, ANGST, and a new one "PREJUDICE". Saiyans are not the most welcome people on earth in this AU...and their origins will be explained later on. Yes, it has something to do with DBZ in reference to the past and a wish but...yeah, you'll see all that later.

Until then, read on and hopefully this won't bore you to death. :)

Joys of life


Omg, I had a realization.

Shit you remember in your mind is much different than what's documented on paper. Seriously, if you're a writer and you have this urge to go back and read some of your old shit, it's just that. SHIT.

When I read this story, the first thing I thought was, I remember this….

The second thing I thought was, "Wow, I thought I was hot shit back then."

And then the realization sets in. "Jesus Christ absolve me of this sin I call mine because this writing is something only my ass could produce and smear on paper and call it a story," Because…seriously, It is BAD.

The good thing about this is that it does form a base; a nice base to really kick off from and shift into a story that is worth reading.

The bad thing is picking through this like lint on a sweater and forcing yourself to save the one thing in your closet you will NOT part with. You love it, you want to reinvent it, you will do something to save it and so help me god if someone tries to interfere with your master plan!

So, I'm rewriting this story…and I'm slapping my teenage self for thinking that she was such a good writer then.

Bad me. BAD.

Chapter 1: Anything but ordinary.

The darkening of the skies had been ominous if not telling. The sudden storm of dark clouds and lightening wasn't new to some, but they weren't concerned with what they couldn't see. He'd done this out of their sights and out of their minds, walking off without saying a word to anyone about what would befall him short moments after he'd gathered the last one.

The Dragon was looking down upon him; its teeth open and bore as if to snap him in half. It had never been so close before; never close enough for him to feel its chilling breath upon his skin. He always thought that the breath of a dragon would be warm like the fire it breathed, but this was no dragon from the folklore of this planet. This dragon was special and one of a kind. It was the only one that could do what he desired and the only one that probably would feel sorrow.

The Dragon pushed its nose gently against his shivering hands. Its energies were from the newest god probably warning someone about this. He didn't care. The questioning gaze of the dragon was like peering into the glass orbs glowing red, unreadable and yet understanding. He'd never asked anything of this dragon before, not even when he'd first thought to pursue it. He'd always been thwarted, turned onto other pursuits, yet now…

Are you sure?

Now was his time. Now was the time to find some peace of mind when he could not find it in the darkness of his sleep. He was so tired…so tired of holding his heart as if it would fall out of his chest each time he dared to move another day. Smiling, pretending to be something that he wasn't…wanting something that didn't want him…

He was scared. It hurt to admit it but that hurt was soothed with the promise of his wishes being granted. He didn't have to speak aloud his desires for the dragon to know, but the one behind him…the one that had come rushing out of the storm to stop him under the false belief of his younger desires…he had to know.

Speak…so I may grant your wishes…

"Vegeta, don't!"

Vegeta lifted his head and turned to the one calling his name. He smiled a sad terrible smile, one that was stained with tears and memories and his deepest emotions surfacing in one real moment that had them paralyzed. He turned around and shook his head, sitting down so hard that the ground shook and made the one sent to stop him weak in the knees.

"…I don't want that," Vegeta said so quietly that even the Dragon had to strain to hear. "Why…why would I want to hold this for eternity?"

"I don't…I don't understand…I thought…"

He looked away. He felt the wind biting at the back of his neck and the dragon pushing at his shoulder softly. It was too much…him standing there like this…it was too much for the saiyan prince.

"You thought wrong, as usual Kakorrot. I don't want to live for eternity," he cried softly. His soft admission robbed Goku of the breath he'd taken and he lurched forward to grab Vegeta when he said, "I want to die…and I don't want to remember…I don't want to remember anything!"

Goku was kept from Vegeta with a force even the likes of he could not fathom. He tried his best to move past that barrier, to break it down with his fists and his will, but this power was more than what he could take on alone. He didn't relent. He kept pushing past the impossible, and would probably continue to do so even when it was all over. It was the one thing about him that Vegeta hated and loved so much that he was willing to cause him this pain.

Open your eyes, Son Goku…see what you could not.

The Dragon's voice stopped him from punching that invisible wall. He wasn't done. He was going to keep fighting. He wanted to say as much but the frail body looking at him with such sadness, such remorse and such love—he felt that heat he'd ignored for so long flare that it was enough to breech the barrier without him having to throw one more punch. He fell to his knees, but it was too late.

"No…no, no, NO! You can't do this!" he screamed. "Please…please don't do this!"

But it had been done. The wish had been spoken and received and there was nothing anyone could do to change it. Goku screamed, his soul torn in half over the falling body willingly giving into the gentle kiss of death lain upon his heart. He pushed himself forward, gathering that body into his arms and willing him to live just a moment longer than he wanted to.

"Another time…" Goku cried frantically, his fingers turning that face to stare at him and see all that would be. Vegeta felt the pull, but remained just long enough to hear that unsaid promise. "Never again…never…"

The Dragon roared into the skies, weaving those wishes into the fabric of time. It would be done, but much needed to happen. The beast of yet a million wishes and more quietly disappeared into the earth's shadow once more. Perhaps, when this world ended, things such as this wouldn't be such a burden to the cold modeled warriors of war.

"Another time…" Goku whispered into the dissipating storms. He felt everything quaking, and the tears fell long after he'd felt Vegeta leave him. "Another time…"

"After that day, the warrior known as Son Goku stayed in that spot, crying over his lost friend and unknown love for many days and many nights. He would not move from his spot and remained until he died from heartache. So moved by the devotion of his loyalty, the god Dende decided that it was best they remained together and had them buried in the spot where a sapling grew into a mighty tree. That tree would stand the tests of time and would be hidden from all…only to be found by those who withstand the test of their love."

She wiped her eyes a little, not unused to the overflow of emotion that came with reading this myth. She closed the book, the class staring at her a little in the expectation that she would burst into tears. She disappointed them with a sniff and the composure of her face, smoothing out her dress and walking back to her desk to face them in that instructor finesse.

"Now, are there any questions?"

One hand shot up eagerly. "Ma'am, what do you think he meant when he kept saying another time?"

"Good question…and its part of your homework. I want everyone to write a paragraph entailing the supposed meaning of what he was saying at the end of the tale," she instructed. "And I want everyone to start reading the next story on the Dragon Balls. They'll be part of a project coming up later on in the term."

The bell chimed for the class to end. The students rose with the enthusiasm of teens looking to get out of class for a few moments and cleared out rather quickly. She sat down at her desk, content to eye the book she'd read aloud moments ago until the familiar shadow of a student she knew quite well loomed at her desk.

She smiled at him, a little thrilled to see a small smile given back to her. "Is there something I can do for you?"

He was clearly embarrassed, but he didn't let it show but so much. "I…I was wondering if…that opening for the recital was still open…"

"You've changed your mind?"


"Well, it's still open. And you're welcome to have it."

He smiled gently and bowed showing her the respect she deserved. "Arigato Briefs-san..."

She wrinkled her nose at her last name and shooed him off with her hand. "Don't mention it. Now hurry along or you'll be late for your next class." He didn't need to be told twice. He was gone quicker than he'd ever been for he was a stickler for being on time and getting things done in a proper manner. Students like him were rare to come by, especially ones that looked a lot like characters from a book.

She giggled a little at the absurdity of that and stared at the cover of her book again. It was a well known book that had been published time and time again and told of myths that couldn't have been any truer than those of the Greeks and Romans. However, there was a little truth behind all stories, so it wasn't quite that impossible.

"Even if it was true," she murmured to herself, "I'd doubt they'd actually do it…"

Her musings were cut off by another teacher poking their head into the door. "Hey Lin, you've got a message from your son," he said. "He's cutting out after school and headed over to his friend's house."

Lin grumbled under her breath and tried not to smile. "Friend my ass," she said loud enough to get a laugh out of the other teacher. "I wish that boy would just admit that he and Goten were dating and just be done with it. It's not like I'm going to be like his great-grandma…shit, the things kids think today."

"Well, you did let your grandma name him after one of your ancestors."

"Yes and why I ever thought Trunks was a good name was only because I wasn't off of the pain killers…but, I suppose it's not important now…" She slid from her chair and started wiping the board clean. "What's important is the test I'm going to torture these kids with because no one has an eye for reading anymore."

"Lin, you're one tough cookie."

"I have blue hair. I have to be."

"Pass it this way!"

He could hear the remarks of the boys screaming at one another for someone to pass a ball along the way. It wasn't unusual to hear around now, seeing that lunch periods varied for different grades. It was lunch time for some, and while he would have loved to tuck into his packed lunch, he still had an hour to go. He sped by the commotion to hurry for his next class, ignoring the calls of those boys and the one voice he purposely pushed out of his head when he heard him grunt.

"Yo! Watch out!"

That call was directed at him. He looked up in time to see the spinning ball of black and white headed right for his forehead.

Normal people would have ducked. Some would have gone flying backward with the force of that ball connecting with their skulls.

He did the one thing people never thought he'd do and sent that ball flying back with a leaping kick that had some envious of his precision and the rest shocked that he could and kept doing such a thing. It was a weekly phenomenon, one that irked him a little more every time it happened. The first time it had been a true accident and purely instinct on his part to recoil the ball like a pro would. He owed that to his life at home and his parents adamantly insisting that he learn self defense.

Unfortunately, much like now, his kicks earned him attention he didn't want. It earned him several shouts of astonishment and one loud cheer that was a likely bet gone right. He didn't pay attention to them. He grabbed the bag he'd dropped and tried to run, but it was of no avail.

He hadn't taken a step when he realized that the owner of the one voice he didn't want to hear was in front of him, eying the ball in his hands before staring at him.

"…you have got to join the team."

He'd been told that the first time he'd kicked that ball back. The same person said it every time and it was no less frightening to hear him suggest that. The tall lean frame of the boy he only knew by his given name towered over him, not threatening but questioning and curious as to why he would not. Usually it would end when he'd shake his head and run with his heart in his throat, but today wasn't meant for normal tendencies.

"You know I'm going to keep asking until you say you'll join," he grinned. "You have a pretty mean kick, Vegeta."

That boy was weird. Vegeta decided it then and there because no one who'd been smacked in the forehead with a return kick would say that to the one who'd done so on the first day of school. "So you say." He refused to say or think otherwise, not sure about what to think when he laughed and tossed the ball back at the waiting group behind them. "I have to go…I'm late for class."

"All right then. See you next week, Vegeta."

He was going to kick the ball at him again. Vegeta groaned and shoved past the laughing boy he'd come to know as Kakorrot and ran for the building where his next class resided. He resisted looking back, already aware that he was watching him flee with his tail swaying aimlessly behind him.

It was a weird ritual that had become sort of a habit over the school year. Vegeta had only recently transferred to this school, after his parents decided that a move was in order. A quieter lifestyle was the explanation, but he wasn't as naïve as he let them believe him to be. His first day here was filled with trepidation and dread, and immense fear when he'd slammed his foot into that soccer ball in an attempt to be civil. He was only passing it back to that boy…he hadn't meant to kick it quite that hard or that well.

All Vegeta remembered after that moment was Kakorrot screaming for him to come back. He'd run until he couldn't run anymore, afraid that he'd made a mess of things before having really settled in. Being different, he learned early on, was often the subject of contention amongst those who didn't understand. Coming here was supposed to take away that anxiety. He thought for sure that he'd messed up his chance to start over and alienated himself without fail just for trying to be somewhat friendly and forgetting that he wasn't exactly normal.

But Kakorrot, the boy he hadn't known the name of at the time, hadn't come looking for him. He didn't come running, screaming with teachers in tow about how he'd purposely slammed him in the face with a ball. Vegeta had been hiding somewhere remote on the school grounds when Kakorrot had popped up out of nowhere, all grins and giggles and holding the same ball that had given him a nice bruise on the cheek. Vegeta had begun to apologize, but Kakorrot shut him up with that same declaration that had Vegeta convinced that he was not right in the head.

"You have to join the soccer team."

He thought it was absurd. Him? Join a sport? He couldn't very well tell him that doing such a thing was asking for someone to get hurt or killed. Instead he'd shaken his head, and again baffled when Kakorrot had laughed at him.

Perhaps it was then…but Vegeta remembered wondering just why he'd laughed until he noticed it.

Kakorrot had a tail like him.

"Settle down class! We will begin shortly," the teacher called. "I want you to put your books away. This will be an oral lesson. Ah! Mr. you finally decide to join us..."

His feet had taken him straight to his next class and all thoughts about that boy when flying out the window. He took his seat quickly, missing the slightly concerned look of the teacher but not the irritated grunt coming from the girl aside him. She looked like she was having a bad day. He didn't ask and shoved his backpack aside him, glad that he wouldn't have to string the straps around his foot this time.

"Don't think I haven't forgotten you."

He cringed and looked back at the bald brute grinning nastily at him. He licked the side of his growing mustache, laughing silently at the disgust evident on Vegeta's face. It was evident on some other students, as well as the cohort that tended to let the bald bastard do what he wanted. This time was a little different, as he reached over and neatly punched Nappa in the shoulder, telling him in no uncertain terms to cut it out.

"Ow! Whatcha do that for, Radditz?"

"Because you're creeping me out…and I told you about messing with him," he hissed.

Vegeta pretended not to hear that. It was no secret that those two in the back of the class were not the nicest people on the planet. They were sometimes partners in crime, although that's what most people said about them. Vegeta hadn't really had much dealing with Radditz. He knew that the teen was rather large and had some of the wildest hair one could imagine, but he really didn't know much more than what people told him.

Nappa on the other hand was someone he was familiar with, only because he'd taken it upon himself to irritate him at every turn. It started immediately after the incident with the soccer ball, with Nappa shoving him onto the ground and threatening to stomp his face in. He'd gotten it in his head that he'd slammed that ball into Kakorrot's face on purpose and sought retribution when clearly that wasn't the case. For a moment Vegeta thought that Kakorrot had been messing with him and sent Nappa to teach him a lesson, but that proved incorrect when another soccer ball came flying at the back of Nappa's skull and knocked him senseless.

Radditz had shown up and dragged Nappa away without saying anything to him. Vegeta was confused, until he saw Kakorrot in the distance waving as he put his foot back down. He saw the flash of a tail, and then he was off to do whatever it is he did.

Nappa backed off for the most part, but he did tend to torture his temper now and again. Vegeta did his best to ignore him and his strange tendencies, and the obvious nature to do something vile in the dark if he was willing. The thought alone made him sick to his stomach, as did what the teacher decided would be the subject matter of the class.

"Now class...who can tell me the function of this organ? And one foul remark from you, Nappa, and it's straight to detention!"

Nappa smirked nastily at her. "Hey, when do we get to the female reproductive system? That's a lot more interesting than what we already have in our pants!"

"Hey, grow the hell up, will you!"

The teacher didn't have to say it. The blonde girl with the severe face had turned around in her seat, fist raised and ready to smack some sense into Nappa without a care for the consequences. Nappa blew her a kiss and she tossed a book at his head. The teacher, already used to this nonsense, ignored them.

It was always like this. The girl that didn't have an issue with showing Nappa what for was called Eighteen, and Vegeta, for the life of him, could not understand why she was called that. There were rumors that she'd come from a large family, and for lack of a proper name she was labeled Eighteen. He didn't know much about her either except that she was relatively strong and the only female willing to wrestle any male in gym class. She won just about every match against the males. The females…well, there was one chick called Chi-chi he knew about, but she was more into martial arts than anything else.

Chi-chi wasn't in this class thankfully. She and Eighteen looked like they didn't get along. The girl aside him that was having a bad day though…she rolled her eyes at him and ignored the whole class room, engrossed in her own pet project sitting on her desk. She was related to his previous teacher in some manner, though Vegeta wasn't sure how. Her name though…he couldn't be sure if it was Bulla or Bulma.

"Bulma, save the projects for outside of my class room," the teacher scolded. "Nappa, Eighteen, if you two don't stop this nonsense, you're going right to Principal Yama's office!"

They stopped immediately and sat back down. The mention of that man's name had everyone shivering, even the teacher who turned back to the board and began again. Vegeta couldn't quite figure out this school, these people, or the workings of the social network that was part of the student body. He knew of people, but didn't know them. He understood his lot in life, but people seemed to have different opinions of that lot. Everyone was weird in their own way, and the dramatics of the day hadn't even truly begun.

He'd only been here a couple of months, but he strangely thought it somewhat familiar.

Déjà vu was a bizarre happening. At least he thought so when moments later Nappa was kicking his chair on the way out the door with the teacher's blessing.

If Vegeta cracked the edge of his desk, no one said much about it aloud.

The day passed in the similar fashion it tended to on weekdays. The end of the school day was the beginning of Drama outside of the school, which meant the gossiping would start and the speculations would ensue. Vegeta hurried to his locker and grabbed what he needed, running right out of the building before anyone could catch him. Lingering for him meant people asking questions and he didn't want to subject himself to his little known phobia of dealing directly with people he didn't know.

His father said that he was shy. Vegeta didn't think it was him being shy anymore than him being cautious. Trusting people was important and giving that trust was something he hadn't learned to do again just yet. Trusting people had gotten him into a world of hurt once before and he wasn't going to do that to himself again. Their moving here wasn't anything more than to spare him the pain of facing the familiar faces that would look at him in a new foreboding light; a light that had no love for him or his inability to explain about the situation.

He really hadn't meant to hurt that boy…

"Brooding again, I see."

The familiar voice waiting for him at the gates belonged to none other than his father. Well, one of them. If he wanted to get technical, this was his mother leaning over his sullen face to greet him with a soft butt of their heads. He wasn't that much taller than him, slender but built and capable of doing massive amounts of damage with the same hands that hugged him close. Vegeta let him, inhaling the familiar scent of someone who didn't judge, who understood, and laughed when Vegeta groaned at the sounds of obvious bickering coming from the student body escaping their high school prison.

He was right to assume that Eighteen and Chi-chi didn't get along. They were in the middle of the courtyard arguing loudly with one another and Bulma rolling her eyes between the two of them.

"Come on..." Vegeta went with the soft tug for him to follow and stuck close to his mom's side even after they'd gotten into the car. Once he was safely buckled in, his mom peeled off, cutting off the several other cars before he could get stuck in the spot behind the oncoming bus.

"You drive like a lunatic," he muttered, ignoring the light laughter. "Seriously mom, you're going to give someone a heart attack with that one day."

"Maybe…but hopefully it'll be someone we don't like," his mom joked. "How was school?"


"Sounds about right. You have a lot of homework?"


"Great! Then you won't mind running an errand for me when we get back home."

"What about dad?"

"Hmm? Oh, he's actually cooking tonight, and you know I don't trust him in the kitchen alone."

That was a given. The last time he'd tried to cook something he'd scratched the bottom of a pan his mother adored more than anything and anyone. His father couldn't apologize enough, and he'd never seen a grown man pout as hard when he was banished to the couch for his inconsideration. That's what his mother would tell people. Vegeta knew that the pan was on its last legs and the only reason his mom adored it so much was that it was a wedding gift from when they were a newlywed couple. As a struggling single income family at the time, it had gotten them through some pretty tough times. It seemed to cook anything that was put into it with perfection and was the go to pan when someone wanted something quick done right.

Since that pan went in the trash, his mom had been obsessed with not losing anything else that was about as old or as used. Vegeta wanted to attribute it to a possible conception they were waiting to tell him about. The instinctive hand on his mom's stomach from time to time was a dead giveaway, as was the glow upon his face when he thought no one was looking. His father was just as bad, but his hovering and suddenly doing things that he hadn't before were the contributing clues.

Vegeta hoped this one took. He remembered the last time…and while he'd been rather young, he did remember the sadness that had drifted throughout the house.

He didn't want to feel such sadness…it hurt thinking about it.

His mom gently caressed the back of his head as if picking up his thoughts. They drove home in silence, comforted by one another and the sight of their home twenty minutes later.

"What took you? You usually drive faster than that!"

His mom rolled his eyes and climbed out of the car with Vegeta close behind. It was a little more than obvious now, with the way his father came jogging from the door to greet his mate the proper way any mate should be treated. Vegeta couldn't recall a moment when they weren't draped over one another or him, love the predominant nature of their personalities rather than the off putting air of sure danger people reacted to without knowing what they were looking at. He half expected the old woman trotting by their house to hurry herself along at the sight of them.

She waved at him instead, chuckling at his befuddled face when he realized that she had a tail as well.

"There aren't too many humans around here, son," his father assured. "You don't have to worry."

Maybe, but that wouldn't keep him from being a little more cautious. Vegeta slipped past them into the house, headed up the stairs to change his clothing and to let free his own tail he naturally kept tucked around his waist.

"He still does that?"

"I'm afraid so…I hope he snaps out of that soon…"

"He will…just give it a little time, Vaughn."

Vegeta came back down moments later, his tail free and his father waiting at the edge of the stairs with warm hands squeezing his shoulders when they were close enough. Vegeta readily soaked in that warmth. His father's hands were like small radiators. They were always warm and reassuring; what little stress that remained in him fled without fight and allowed Vegeta to cling like the overgrown child he felt like when he got home. He was far from being a child.

However, he wasn't going to turn away the gentle laughter and hug from his father no matter how old he was.

"School's okay?"

"Yeah…and I changed my mind about the recital," Vegeta admitted.

"That's good! See, one step at a time my boy…and before you know it, things will look much brighter. You'll see."

It was rather hard to believe that, and to believe that his father was that type of man with his rugged looks speaking before his demeanor. He was taller, stronger, and built a little better than the family he claimed his own, but no less ashamed of them for who they were than he was for himself. He playfully lamented that it was his one true regret that his son didn't look like him from time to time, and enjoyed the lie as much as people's reactions when he voiced it aloud.

Anyone who knew him was aware that he silently relished the fact that Vegeta looked a lot like his mate. Vegeta's looks were strictly his mother, from the hair down to the height issue, as well as the slender build and the slightly feminine features that made them softer looking to most. It was a good method of deception and a good way to get his father in someone's face if they were looked at the wrong way. It was also a sign of Vegeta's status, even if he didn't openly broadcast it.

"My boy, you need to be proud of who you are," his father said softly. "No matter what anyone says, you're not a freak. You're a saiyan, and I've been around long enough to know that talking animals are a lot fucking stranger than people with tails."

That didn't keep Vegeta from wishing that he looked somewhat like his father. At least people left him alone until they realized he was a teddy bear under that masculinity. He was strong, with a deep voice and a bunch of scars to add to the drama of manliness. The one scar over his right bicep always fascinated Vegeta, as did the one just under his ear and trailing down the side of his neck. Vegeta always wondered about them, and though he was free to ask, he didn't question their origin. If anything one would expect his father to be some overbearing brute that demanded reign of the household.

"Valin, I thought I told you not to start the dishes just yet!"

"Sorry, Vaughn!"

His mom did that. Vaughn had absolute reign of the house and how everything was done since his mate wouldn't let him work these days. After moving, Valin had the final word about who was working and who wasn't, and Vaughn didn't argue. Instead he took hold of his new domain and Valin could do nothing but surrender. It was his decision after all.

Vaughn came marching out of the kitchen, not with the intent to smack Valin in his arm like his mate suspected. He put his attention into placing the cake he brought with him into Vegeta's hands. Then he knocked Valin in the arm. "Ow!"

"What's the cake for and why am I holding it?" Vegeta asked.

"I got a request to make this for a neighbor a few houses down," Vaughn explained. "Mr. Burdock."

"And he is…who?"

"He's the nice man that helped us move in. You remember him."

Why did moms always say that when obviously their children didn't remember? He wouldn't have asked if he did! His name did sound familiar though. "Okay…and I'm delivering it?"

"Yes. And, he's looking for someone to do some errands for him. He's got his hands full…and I might have volunteered you to help him out a bit this afternoon."


"What? It's only a few errands. He's willing to pay you and its good for you to get out of the house…you know we worry you're becoming a hermit."

He knew that, but that didn't mean he wanted to fix it. Still, there was no arguing when his mom got like this, so he resigned himself to his fate, rolling his eyes upward and letting his mom kiss his forehead in apology. "Be back before seven. You know how your dad gets about you eating later than that."

Valin rolled his eyes this time and avoided the swipe his mate took at him. "Yes mom."

"Oh, and mind your temper Vegeta. His boys…well, they're a little spirited. They mean well."

Meaning that they were probably obnoxious and/or possibly human. Vegeta sighed to himself and walked off with a wave as soon as he was given the address. His parents watched him go, a little worried, a little excited, and conversing about a hot topic that drifted from his social life to the little unannounced issue that would be with them soon.

He wondered just how things would change with a new set of feet in the house.

He also wondered who was going to be tasked with diaper duty, because it was not going to be him.

That's the end of chapter 1!

Chapter 2 will be up soon enough if you liked it. Give us a holler!

Oh, and I'm working on the other fics. Be patient with me! -_-;;