#two-part

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- Part 1 (You are here!) -

- Part 2 -

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“ I’ll be alright Astro, promise. “ 

It had been a particularly stressful run that evening. The main run didn't go as planned, and even the common toons who tagged along were hurt, which weighed heavily on Sprout's conscience. 

Every time he blinked he swore he could see the events of the day replaying over and over. Rudie, covered in ichor diving for Boxten with no time for him to escape before he was impaled in the arm. 

It wasn’t Boxtens' fault entirely, No. He just didn't see Pebble rounding the corner in time to move off the machine. 

As the group of main toons returned to their rooms for the evening Astro stuck beside Sprout. He made an effort to make sure he made it to his room safely without passing out, and the bags under his eyes were especially prominent today. 

His many hands fidgeted under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders anxiously as he looked up at the taller toon. 

“Are you sure… You don’t seem alright... I can swing by your room and make you some tea, Teagan always says it helps.. ” 

Sprout felt his eye twitch as he reached and rubbed at his face. Trying to wake himself up a bit more, he didn't want to sleep. If he slept he would see Ichor. The substance that kept them alive always came back to haunt him in his dreams most nights. 

…He never told Astro of course. He already spread himself much too thin helping others, and even still a few slipped through the cracks no matter how hard Astro tried. 

No. He didn’t want to be a bother. 

Instead of telling his partner his woes he pulled his hand away from his face and gave a meek smile as they neared his room. Stopping just short of it as he turned to face Astro directly. 

“Astro, M’fine.. I just need to get a bit of sleep and I'll be okay for the next run tomorrow. “ 

Dandy never really allowed the toons breaks from Ichor runs, especially the mains, but Astro would be damned if he wasn’t tempted to ask for one for Sprout right this instant. 

Now that he was looking at Sprout dead on he could see just how prominent his eyebrows pinched together. A clear indicator he wasn’t really okay. He was used to picking up on the little things the other toons did. 

He was supposed to help the others, and to help he needed to know when things were wrong. 

Astro felt his worry spike as he continued to pick apart the little details Sprout tried so hard to hide from the others. Astro always noticed. He noticed how his leaves slightly frayed out of the usual style he used, how he bounced on his feet more, and especially the eye bags. 

…But he wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t in his nature at the end of the day, no matter how worried he grew for Sprout. 

Instead, he spared a glance down the hall, making sure the others were squared away in their rooms before slipping his blanket down just a tad. Letting his two hands reach up and cradle the side of his face. 

Neither of them made an effort to hide their feelings towards each other, but still, Astro never liked showing his hands. It always drew questions. 

Sprout practically melted into the other cool touch, his artificial warmth seeping into Astros' naturally cold hands. 

“...Please tell me if anything is bothering you… I can help..” 

He was made to help, but he didn't say that of course. 

Sprout just carefully reached for his second set of hands still buried under his blanket and softly squeezed them. Trying his best to reassure his partner as he felt his eyes slip shut momentarily against his will. 

He quickly regained his balance and sat up slightly, pulling his face out of Astro's hands. 

“ I promise Astro… Go rest my Nova.. “ 

Astros' hands meekly went back to holding his blanket corners as Sprout still held his bottom two. Giving a weary smile as he tried to read Sprout's expression. How he wished he could know what was going on in his mind. 

“ You as well… I'm right across the hall if you change your mind on that tea…” 

Astro knew he wasn’t going to rest anytime soon, and if his assumption was correct neither was Sprout. Hopefully, he would see reason and just come to get him if he needed anything. 

Sprout let out a soft and airy chuckle as he gave Astros hands a final squeeze before turning to go to his room. 

“ Of course, sweet dreams Astro,” 

He then turned and went into his bedroom. His door softly clicked shut behind him, leaving Astro in the hall for a few moments before the moon went to his bedroom. His mind filled with anxiety for his partner. 

…He would have to be sure to keep an eye out for his dream tonight. He hadn’t been seeing any from Sprout for a while now. 

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Sprout didn’t sleep for a good long while that night, not that he really wanted to anyway. His knees ached as he lay in his all too stiff and creaky bed. You’d think Sprout being a main toon would atleast get him a better bed, but nope. Dandy was stingy as ever. 

He flopped on his back and stared up at the ceiling. If he zoned out hard enough it almost made him feel relaxed. 

…But it always crept back. The Ichor. 

A constant force in his everyday life no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. No one knew how it started infecting them, not even Rodger of all Toons could pinpoint anything. 

He sighed and let his eyes fall shut for only a few seconds. Feeling his body relax ever so slightly into his mattress before feeling something cold and slimy drip onto his cheek.

Slimy and cold. 

He sat up with a start as he felt his heart hammering in his chest, he couldn’t breathe as he swiped it off of his cheek. Scrambling for his bedside lamp. 

His hands were slick with either sweat or Ichor, he couldn’t tell anymore. His skin prickled with artificial goosebumps as he felt around on his table. 

…Only to feel a cold and damp jello-like surface give way under his palm. His body reeled back as he tried fruitlessly to push himself back onto his bed. 

His front half of his body fell forward, almost as if gravity didn't exist anymore as he felt his chest heave in a blind panic. A terrible sense of vertigo took hold of his mind. 

His hands pulled away from the surface he thought was his nightstand so he could hold them in front of his body. Bracing for everything and anything. 

He screamed, or at least he thought he did, he couldn’t hear himself over his ears that began to ring. 

He fell face-first into the darkness surrounding his bed as it all encompassed his being. 

His face felt uncomfortably warm and wet at first as he fell into the Ichor that surrounded his bed. His torso and legs followed soon after. His arms flailed to gather some semblance of gravity as his conscience reeled to grasp the situation. 

A pipe must have burst filling his room with Ichor. He hadn’t been paying attention. He shouldn’t have tried to sleep, he shouldn’t have even laid down. 

He was supposed to support everyone. Why did he always fail? 

Sprouts' hands eventually breached the surface of the Ichor. His legs kicking to tread and keep himself afloat desperately. His mouth momentarily opened to gasp in the air he craved, only to get a mouthful of the dark substance. 

It burned the back of his throat as he tried to breathe. The dark liquid was heavy in his mouth as he tried not to taste the liquid that hurt so many of his friends. The bitter tang settled on his tongue as he hacked and heaved. 

He was going to die here. He was going to die and it was his fault, he should have been watching his friends' backs. He should have been up and making sure none of the Ichor got onto the main floors they lived on. 

He spat out what he could as he tried to keep afloat. His heart desperately clattered in his ribs as he felt his chest was about to burst. His legs ached from how hard he had to tread to keep afloat. 

His lungs burned and all he could think about was his friends. He would never get to bake with Cosmo again. He would never get to bake cookies for Pebbles or hear Vee’s snarky remarks. 

He didn’t like Rodger very much because he tended to pry but he would never get to tell the detective off again. He would never hear Rodger complain about Glisten. He would never hear Teagan and Tisha idly chattering in the kitchen while he baked. 

His heart panged as he remembered the most important one, someone who meant more to Sprout than just a friend. Astro.

His Supernova. His star. The center of his heart, his Sun.

The Ichor soaked his scarf and it held heavy around his neck. He pulled at his once beloved scarf now wanting nothing more than to yank it off. 

He thought of yelling out. To scream. To thrash and fight to live. 

…But if all the Ichor was in his room right now his friends would be none the better. He just hoped the others weren’t awake for it. 

He stopped fighting against the Ichor and felt his hands fall away from his scarf. Letting the heavy and waterlogged fabric tug him down into the neverending sea of darkness. 

‘I’m sorry everyone. I’m sorry Astro.’ 

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“...Oh my dear..” 

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.✮。• *₊°。 ☆°。

I wrote this for funsies because of the impeccable art drawn by @/Strolling.Star over on Tiktok, do go show them some love! Their style is truly something that I believe all can enjoy no matter what you ship. Speaking of ships, please do not go into the comments of my work, or anyone else's for that matter, talking about Fruitcake. I MIGHT write it in the future, but if greeted with "Where's Cosmo??" Comments I'm gonna just delete them. Let people ship what they want as long as it's not harmful! I do hope you all enjoyed! Until the next update!!

“You can NOT be serious!”

“Have you ever known me not to be?”

My arms are crossed tightly over my chest, and have been for so long I’m starting to sweat just a little. Part of me knew that this day was going to come, even though I’d liked to live in the little dream that maybe it wouldn’t and Gohan would make friends with other children his age, and we could set up playdates and… Goku used to tell me I worried about him too much. He was always met with a swift swat to the ear and a semi-playful remark about him not worrying enough. What I wouldn’t give to have that over this right now!

“ChiChi, look…” He has no right to go dragging his hand down his face like that! Like I was wearing him out or something—we’ve only been talking (read: arguing) about this for a measly two hours. This was nothing in my book, I am the queen of stubbornness and the reigning champion of the household decisions!

“Piccolo, I ain’t gonna budge on this one! I know you know him well, you trained Gohan yourself—without my consent I might add—and while I appreciate you comin’ to me about this first, my answer is still absolutely not.” My jaw is set firmly but to seal the deal I hit him with one of my “Mama Said No” looks; yeah, that’ll show him.

It gives me a real pain in the neck to look him in the eyes when he stands all straight and immovable like that, and I know he knows that, too. He was doing it on purpose! Prick… “Trust me, Dragon Breath, I heard you the first four hundred times you no, but if you could pipe down for approximately 30 seconds and let me explain myself, it would benefit both of us.”

“Your son has a heart of gold and the brat is in love with that damned beast.” It’s not fair for him to look at me like that. I just know he’s been practicing the art of mother persuasion with Gohan, no way Demon Brains here would be capable of that on his own! “I’ve done my research. Even if I hated every minute of it—which I did—I talked to a few humans about this; pets are apparently a staple of childhood in multiple human cultures.”

I was starting to feel the faint throbbing of a budding headache, but I relented only enough to pinch the bridge of my nose. Piccolo was not allowed to make good points like this, he just wasn’t! It was always so off-putting to argue with him; Goku certainly never put up as much of a fight, but that’s because he knew I was right! Well, that, and he usually left most of the important decisions up to me.

Here I am, starting to get the distinct feeling that… I may not be… entirely right this time.

“Well, maybe you gotta point, but a DRAGON is nowhere near the kinda pet I want my son havin’! Why cain’t he have a puppy instead? Y’know, something normal and easily house-trainable?”

It takes me a long moment to look up at him, but I don’t have to strain as hard this time. He was slumped, back resting against the doorway to the kitchen. So what if I didn’t hide my smirk—he tried to look so nonchalant hunched over like that, but I knew it was because he was so damned tall. I wondered if he knew that his antennae twitched when he thought too hard. Maybe one day I would have the heart to tell him.

When he sighed though, that’s when I knew that that day would not be today. It was one of those “I’m Piccolo the surly ex-Demon and I shouldn’t be forced to try and compromise with dumb earth women” sighs. It belongs at the top of the list of things that grated my nerves. “If he wanted a puppy, don’t you think he would have brought one home by now? And anyway, if trainability is what you’re worried about, don’t. That dragon was circus-bred, trained from birth. So, there. No more qualms, yes?”

“Woah, hey, I never said that was my only pr—“

“Gohan knows how to hunt, and you taught him how to make a schedule. Icarus will never go hungry.”

“… Icarus? You mean you know that beast’s name?”

My smirk minutely wider at the peculiar shade of violet that was tinging my Namekian houseguest’s ears. Now wasn’t that just so darn adorable? Sometimes I forget just how easy it is to get him all flustered.

“Gohan only mentioned it to me 37 times in one day. How could I forget?” I watch him carefully as he meticulously studied a very specific spot on the ceiling, and then my hardwood floors, followed by gazing at something very interesting out the window.

“Of course, how silly of me to ask!... But I know you secretly enjoy seein’ him happy. I can see it plain as day no matter how gruff your little mask is.” My smirk is definitely a full-blown smile now, turns out that Green Bean was a full body blusher. I could see the heat creeping down what little expanse of throat he showed.

“Well, from the way you’re talking, it’s almost as if you don’t.” Perhaps Piccolo was too flustered to understand the magnitude of that sentence, but it doesn’t matter. It was my turn to blush now, but it sure as hell wasn’t from embarrassment. I’m completely livid now, and I know it’s apparent, from the way my jaw is clenching to the flames that practically erupt from my eyes.

“Now just who in the hell do you think you are? I love my son, and I have always done what was best for him, no matter what!” I can tell he wants to interject so I throw up a hand to stop him, Mama’s on a roll now. “You wanna insult me like that? Fine, see if I care. But this is your responsibility now. If that dragon even thinks about grazin’ my garden,” I tick up one finger on the shushing hand that had morphed into a vengeful fist, “or ruinin’ my clothes line,” followed by a second finger, “or reckons its fine to destroy my firewood reserves,” and a third finger to boot, “or, I dunno, MAIMS my SON—” My fingers curl into a fist at this moment, quivering with affront and anger, before a single finger points at him ever so daintily. “Then it’s your hide I’m after. And don’t think for a second that I’m gonna to take it easy on you, either!”

That—that—how rude can a person get? And to say that to my face in my own home? I give him my back as I try to find some composure; the embarrassment part is starting to shine through, and I can’t help but start second-guessing myself. Who is he to talk about what’s important for a childhood? Gohan’s already lost so much of it, no thanks to Piccolo himself. But then… here he is trying to make amends. Am I hurting my baby boy by stopping him…? Gohan has handled worse but, wild animals like that are dangerous!

Mild throat clearing behind me derails my train of thought, and I have to take a few heavy breaths before I can turn to face him. Huh. Sheepish is a new expression to grace his features, usually its standoffish or peeved. It doesn’t matter, I am a woman of standards and respect and I deserve to be shown some!

“ChiChi I… that was out of line.” I thought seeing him meek like this would make me feel better, but it just makes me sad. His Adam’s apple bobs under his scarf, I can tell by the way it shifts; he must be nervous. He should be.

“Piccolo, I really don’t wanna hear it. I’ve said my piece and you’ve said yours. By all means, go relay the news to my son. Let him know I need him home by sundown, we have some ground rules to cover.”

He gives me a wide birth when I sweep past him into the kitchen, stubbornly pushing down the ache of sadness and lingering sting of insult. The tell-tale swish of his cape dragging on the floor tells him that he is thinking about leaving, and part of me wishes he would. But of course, the other part wishes he would stay, and give me some damned reassurance that I wasn’t failing as a mother like he seemingly thought.

Sometimes you just don’t get what you want.

You would think that with a house as quaint and tidy as ours, filled with books, memories, and good food, it wouldn’t feel so empty. The windows are still open, letting early fall air purge any ill feelings that might remain. It doesn’t quite reach me, although I can feel its whispers tugging at the edge of my gown. Dredges of loneliness settle at the bottom of my heart, and images of Goku flicker through my mind. Laughing, smiling, wolfing down the huge meals I would make him. I’m thankful that his son doesn’t eat nearly as much, although some nagging feeling told me this was just the beginning; my arms ache at the thought even though the pot I’m stirring would have been an appetizer for my husband.

The stew is simmering in no time, so I figure why not take a moment of rest for the day. I deserve it after wading through that malarkey all afternoon. Jolly Green Jackass is such an enigma to me. First, he steals my kid; I trace his dumb pointy ears on the solid oak of the kitchen table. Trains him, protects him, manages to make sure he gets home to us safe; my hand flops over my minds image of his snaggle toothed face imprinted on the tabletop. He lingers around my house while Goku is away training, he’s even… my face ends up meeting the table where my doodle had been, and my breath fogs the polished wood when I sigh in defeat. Piccolo cares about Gohan, that much is for sure. I know I should trust him, and I do, of course I do! But it’s just not what I had envisioned for Gohan…

That shouldn’t matter; Piccolo is his closest friend, the man—alien? —he looks up to. He’ll keep my little boy safe. With a newfound determination, I sit ramrod straight; but that doesn’t mean he’ll be traipsing through my house anytime soon without a heartfelt apology! Papa didn’t raise himself no doormat, I am a woman to be contended with.