Turning Tide
*****
Summary: On vacation to the south, Trunks never thought he'd end up bunking with a child hood friend. He finds, though, that Marron's not the little girl who he had given piggy back rides. He'd always felt like a brother to her. But, now, he's feeling things no brother should be feeling.
*****
Disclaimer: I don't think I've heard of anything else like this, and to tell you the truth, I'm proud of that. I doubt this in the first place, but no one still my idea, got that? I want to be original in some ways, and this is one. I also will have a separate copy of this on media minor, and a remix at fiction post, so if you see anything remotely the same, it's just me. Oh! And, no I don't own dbz/gt.
*****
A/N: Isn't it lovely? I'm putting all this nonsense of boating into something useful!! Oh no!!! I just scared you all away!! Come back!! Please??? I was practically born with a mast line in my hand. Gawd knows I hated the damn thing, but if it will get me something, it would be well worth it! And I don't care what any of ya' land lovers say, I LOVE Jimmie Buffet!! Oh don't give me that, you know you like him!! His' lyrics are so funny!!! However… I can't spell worth shit, so bare with me, kay? Thanks!!!! I appreciate all the reviews I can get, but this is the only time I'll ask.
*****
Chapter 1
*****
The day was absolutely beautiful, balmy and cerulean. Weather was strong, the sun was ripe and flourishing in the mid day sky. White-caps speckled the bay, waves rising to high tide. Gulls swooped down, picking small fish and crustacean from pools near the shore. A school of fish passing by the surface plucked by a clan of passing pelicans.
White, sandy beaches, all but disserted, with the exception of the few walking dogs, frisbeeing them into the waters wake with miscellaneous floaty toys; or in solitude. As soon as the sun hit the horizon, it would be littered with couples; holding hands and kissing. It was a great escape- from reality, and from the ordinary. Minds could blank, and fill again with the sounds around them. Walking bare foot, and enjoying their surroundings.
Waves crashed fully on moss-covered rocks, jutting out from the coast. Lazy seals lounged in the wake, on slowly sinking boulders. A group of tourist gathered on a nearby cliff on the point off of the light house to feed soaring sea birds. Cars bustled by on sea side roads, bikers used paths curving through brushes of Ice Plant in full bloom.
Proud sails wafted through tight breezes. It was an average day for sailing- being about three knots it almost made it feel like skimming- but what a relief to get away from the office. And this, this was what he needed. Cool and relaxing. It was the beginning of spring, fresh from winter chaos. Now, every thing was new and waiting for someone to snatch it up. With this, he planned to pocket all the booty for himself.
Tacking to the right, Trunks past a hand over the little nub of lilac fur he had caught in a thin leather strap at the hitch of his neck. He was anxious to get as far away from main land as humanly possible.
Six damn months, wasted away in the hopeless prison of a building. He took a glance over the starboard side as a pod of dolphins clashed against the surf, quiet being forgotten with the wind. He smiled, it was well worth it.
He had an island, farther south; that he had plans to pitch at. There, the trees were lush, the seas ranging from dark to light. Mainly natives harbored the little get-away. This was the one and only resort, with no more than twenty rooms. It was meant as a lovers' paradise, or a tranquil hid in for those alone. And no matter where from, the women were always scarcely clothed, and very well built.
Having been more times than once, Trunks could recite every detail from the traveler's broacher he was forced to purchase every visitation; a ploy to get more costumers in subtle advertisement. And he reluctantly ignored it. To him, it was his island, and his island alone. And that's how he wanted it to stay.
Clouds backed themselves in the far corner of the balmy blue sky. Weather could change with a flick of a finger, he figured. It's kinda like the mountains. Sneering at his bad luck, he tacked again. He needed to get farther out to sea before the storm hit. He gauged striking point would be before nightfall. Then, seas would be rough, and sky dark. The over looming obscurations were of the lighting type, and would cause him nothing but trouble.
But, for now, he had other things to worry about. For one, he hadn't eaten since he'd packed that morning. Switching to auto-pilot, he headed down to cabin space. Working wasn't always bad; it had bought him this rig after all, hadn't it?
Cherry cabinets lined the walls, and Italian marble the counters. Plush silk pillows cushioned the lounging area in sparks of cobalt and splashes of navy. A mini stainless steal refrigerator housed his desire. Trunks stuck in a large, muscular arm, pulling out goods to make a prime sandwich.
Taking his treasure abroad, when complete, he fleshed himself out on white plaster deck, mast to back. In one hand remote, the other food, and the tone of Jimmie Buffet's Cheese Burger is Paradise mingling with the breeze.
He sigh, taking a bite, nothing was more reechoes than this. Wind in my sails, sun and the surf. It couldn't get any better than this.
On his perch, he looked like a kindred pirate. He was bare from the waste up, with grungy, worn and torn khakis from bottom down. His skin, naturally copper, glistened with sea mist. Broad, worker hands, those not meant for offices, rested behind a lavender topped head, giving the feel of pure bliss. Closed lids obscured his eyes, but, when on alert, were as deep as the ocean depths.
Sighing again, he filled his mouth and began to hum along to the melody of the old sailor. Wistful as he was, he knew that would be where he'd end when the song switched to another of an older man, contemplating his life and searching for his lost 'sugar and salt'.
But, for now, he was content just where he was laying; singing along with the old fool.
*****
Wind was howling, trees were sent fluttering in gales of blustering air. Waves crash on rocks, destroying every thing that got in its way. Animals, alive or dead, washed to shore to suffer alone. Clouds darkened the sky giving the presents of night.
Trunks tied off as fast he could, water blistered his hands and face. If he hadn't gotten here by now- he didn't want to even think of the results. The marina was stuffed with boats. Masts hit together, hulls pounded the dock, all in chorus with the storm.
He started off towards the cabins, hopping to god that the rope would hold. The tide was just relentless, and restless. Panels creaked with his weight while swaying in sync with the sea. Hair freed from his ponytail and whipped around his face. Sea salt stung his eyes, forcing them to slit. His mere wind blocker cackled and pulled from him.
There was no use going to the main lobby, he'd paged them on his way in to bay. The room was ready and he was exhausted. He just prayed for a nice warm bed, he was dieing for sleep.
The walk would have been beautiful any other time. Darkness cloaked and shadows loamed over plant growth that sprung up like mountains around the stone walk way. Flowers would have brightened his day, but it was to dark for any summer joys.
His room was a small cottage off the northern tip; it was the farthest cabin away from the main rooms. He preferred to be alone on his vacations. He got enough of human life on his workdays; this was for relaxing, swimming, and maybe even a little fishing. Storms would pass, they always did, and when it did, he'd be the first to make use of it.
Reaching his door, he pulled it back. The entrance flowed to both rooms; consisting of sleeping area and kitchen. He could already see the king sized mattress and let a lazy smile slid into place. It smelled like citrus and lilac.
To tired to worry about anything else, Trunks trudged bedside, dropped his pants and climbed in. To his surprise, and pleasure, he found them soft and warm. His stuff muscles relaxed and he pulled the sheets up to his chin to settle into a deep, dreamless sleep.
*****
Marron drifted in to consciousness on a wave of pure ecstasy. Sun shined through blind less windows, lighting the table at the base. This had been a wonderful idea; she couldn't even remember why she fought against it. The people were so kind to her, if not a bit confusing with their strong Jamaican accents.
Her cheeks were still flushed from sleep; hair tousled in a crown of gold adorned her head. Cornflower eyes hazed in half aware slits. She snuggled down a little farther, reaching for more warmth. Strong arms embraced her, pulled her to it.
Strong, muscular arms, she found it to feel so safe in large arms. She swept one finger over it. Copper, she thought dazed, soft copper skin.
All at once, her eyes flung open. Arms? There were arms around her? She looked down again. She hadn't even noticed. They lay protective like around her waist, hold her where she was. Panic was the first to flash across her face, then anger. How dare some one sneak into her cabin, her bed, in the middle of the night and think they could sleep with her.
As much force as she could muster, she aimed an elbow at her attackers chest. It felt like stone, she realized. But it did the trick, the arms loosened. She practically whooped when she got free, there was just one problem; it was still in her bed.
Looking to the nightstand, she grabbed a porcelain flower vase and heaved it at where she figured its head would be. A muffled 'oof' granted her a demonic smirk as the vase shattered. The covers were thrown back as her attacker showed himself.
A gasp forced its way through her gapping mouth. He was lovely. And almost naked. His hand rubbed at his drooping eyes, then scratched at the rats nest of violet hair. She almost felt sorry when she caught sight of a drip of blood running from his temple. She straightened herself, this was no time to be granting anything, especially kindness, she decided. And in the clearest voice she could produce she began her brayed of questions.
"Who the hell are you?" He looked up at her with pure, innocent true blue eyes. She had to stop herself before she sighed.
"Wha?" He scratched at his eye again, trying to focus.
"Who are you, and what the hell do you think you're doing in my room?"
He scanned his eyes a crossed tables and decorations, shook his head. "This is my room."
She made herself glare. He was either lost or brave. Or maybe he was just really stupid. "Get out," She pointed a finger to the door. "Now."
This time he growled, pulling himself from the plush. He didn't know how she got in here, but she was obviously not healthy. "Look, I don't know how you are, or why you're in here, but this is my room, and you're the one that needs to leave."
If she hadn't been so furious at him, she would have noticed he had moved so close their faces where only a few inches away. "I don't know what you mean, this is my room. A friend of mine gave me the tickets for this trip. If you want to see the receipt, I'd be happy to show it to you." Her eyes narrowed another fraction. "Or would you prefer me just to call security?"
He let out a cold chuckle. "I don't care about receipts, or some friends booking you on a summer get away." He turned back toward the bed, planning to slip back in. "Call security if you want to."
"You better believe I will." She huffed, picking up the receiver. "No body speaks to a Chestnut like that."
Trunks paused. Chestnut? The Chestnuts? He turned back to her. "Marron?"
Shocked was the word she would have placed his expression. "Yah, Marron Chestnut, you a fan? Good for you." She focused back on the call. "Yes, could you send someone down to room 142? I've got a, hold on, what's you're name?" She asked Trunks.
He couldn't help himself to a loud below. She actually didn't remember him. "Hi Marron, It's good to see you again." He said it on an edge of a chuckle. Then gave her a classic grin.
She pulled the phone away from her head. "Trunks?" She felt a shiver run down her spine when he nodded. A smile bloomed on her face, dropped the receiver back in the cradle, and launched herself at him. "Trunks Briefs, you bastard! I can't believe it's you."
He swung her around as if she weight nothing. Setting her back down, he kissed the top of her head. "You look nothing like you used to, no wonder I couldn't figure it out it was you." She gripped tighter, then let go. "You even grew your hair out." He held up her waist length locks.
"I have one thing I feel you need." She said, raised her hand and swiped it across his face. "That's what you get for sneaking into bed with be." She walk to the other side of the bed. "And put these on while you're at it." She held up his pants, then flung them at him.
"Marron, I was serious though, this is my room. I book it every year around this time."
She lifted a brow. "And you think I wasn't? Trunks, your mother gave me the pass."
*****
Summary: On vacation to the south, Trunks never thought he'd end up bunking with a child hood friend. He finds, though, that Marron's not the little girl who he had given piggy back rides. He'd always felt like a brother to her. But, now, he's feeling things no brother should be feeling.
*****
Disclaimer: I don't think I've heard of anything else like this, and to tell you the truth, I'm proud of that. I doubt this in the first place, but no one still my idea, got that? I want to be original in some ways, and this is one. I also will have a separate copy of this on media minor, and a remix at fiction post, so if you see anything remotely the same, it's just me. Oh! And, no I don't own dbz/gt.
*****
A/N: Isn't it lovely? I'm putting all this nonsense of boating into something useful!! Oh no!!! I just scared you all away!! Come back!! Please??? I was practically born with a mast line in my hand. Gawd knows I hated the damn thing, but if it will get me something, it would be well worth it! And I don't care what any of ya' land lovers say, I LOVE Jimmie Buffet!! Oh don't give me that, you know you like him!! His' lyrics are so funny!!! However… I can't spell worth shit, so bare with me, kay? Thanks!!!! I appreciate all the reviews I can get, but this is the only time I'll ask.
*****
Chapter 1
*****
The day was absolutely beautiful, balmy and cerulean. Weather was strong, the sun was ripe and flourishing in the mid day sky. White-caps speckled the bay, waves rising to high tide. Gulls swooped down, picking small fish and crustacean from pools near the shore. A school of fish passing by the surface plucked by a clan of passing pelicans.
White, sandy beaches, all but disserted, with the exception of the few walking dogs, frisbeeing them into the waters wake with miscellaneous floaty toys; or in solitude. As soon as the sun hit the horizon, it would be littered with couples; holding hands and kissing. It was a great escape- from reality, and from the ordinary. Minds could blank, and fill again with the sounds around them. Walking bare foot, and enjoying their surroundings.
Waves crashed fully on moss-covered rocks, jutting out from the coast. Lazy seals lounged in the wake, on slowly sinking boulders. A group of tourist gathered on a nearby cliff on the point off of the light house to feed soaring sea birds. Cars bustled by on sea side roads, bikers used paths curving through brushes of Ice Plant in full bloom.
Proud sails wafted through tight breezes. It was an average day for sailing- being about three knots it almost made it feel like skimming- but what a relief to get away from the office. And this, this was what he needed. Cool and relaxing. It was the beginning of spring, fresh from winter chaos. Now, every thing was new and waiting for someone to snatch it up. With this, he planned to pocket all the booty for himself.
Tacking to the right, Trunks past a hand over the little nub of lilac fur he had caught in a thin leather strap at the hitch of his neck. He was anxious to get as far away from main land as humanly possible.
Six damn months, wasted away in the hopeless prison of a building. He took a glance over the starboard side as a pod of dolphins clashed against the surf, quiet being forgotten with the wind. He smiled, it was well worth it.
He had an island, farther south; that he had plans to pitch at. There, the trees were lush, the seas ranging from dark to light. Mainly natives harbored the little get-away. This was the one and only resort, with no more than twenty rooms. It was meant as a lovers' paradise, or a tranquil hid in for those alone. And no matter where from, the women were always scarcely clothed, and very well built.
Having been more times than once, Trunks could recite every detail from the traveler's broacher he was forced to purchase every visitation; a ploy to get more costumers in subtle advertisement. And he reluctantly ignored it. To him, it was his island, and his island alone. And that's how he wanted it to stay.
Clouds backed themselves in the far corner of the balmy blue sky. Weather could change with a flick of a finger, he figured. It's kinda like the mountains. Sneering at his bad luck, he tacked again. He needed to get farther out to sea before the storm hit. He gauged striking point would be before nightfall. Then, seas would be rough, and sky dark. The over looming obscurations were of the lighting type, and would cause him nothing but trouble.
But, for now, he had other things to worry about. For one, he hadn't eaten since he'd packed that morning. Switching to auto-pilot, he headed down to cabin space. Working wasn't always bad; it had bought him this rig after all, hadn't it?
Cherry cabinets lined the walls, and Italian marble the counters. Plush silk pillows cushioned the lounging area in sparks of cobalt and splashes of navy. A mini stainless steal refrigerator housed his desire. Trunks stuck in a large, muscular arm, pulling out goods to make a prime sandwich.
Taking his treasure abroad, when complete, he fleshed himself out on white plaster deck, mast to back. In one hand remote, the other food, and the tone of Jimmie Buffet's Cheese Burger is Paradise mingling with the breeze.
He sigh, taking a bite, nothing was more reechoes than this. Wind in my sails, sun and the surf. It couldn't get any better than this.
On his perch, he looked like a kindred pirate. He was bare from the waste up, with grungy, worn and torn khakis from bottom down. His skin, naturally copper, glistened with sea mist. Broad, worker hands, those not meant for offices, rested behind a lavender topped head, giving the feel of pure bliss. Closed lids obscured his eyes, but, when on alert, were as deep as the ocean depths.
Sighing again, he filled his mouth and began to hum along to the melody of the old sailor. Wistful as he was, he knew that would be where he'd end when the song switched to another of an older man, contemplating his life and searching for his lost 'sugar and salt'.
But, for now, he was content just where he was laying; singing along with the old fool.
*****
Wind was howling, trees were sent fluttering in gales of blustering air. Waves crash on rocks, destroying every thing that got in its way. Animals, alive or dead, washed to shore to suffer alone. Clouds darkened the sky giving the presents of night.
Trunks tied off as fast he could, water blistered his hands and face. If he hadn't gotten here by now- he didn't want to even think of the results. The marina was stuffed with boats. Masts hit together, hulls pounded the dock, all in chorus with the storm.
He started off towards the cabins, hopping to god that the rope would hold. The tide was just relentless, and restless. Panels creaked with his weight while swaying in sync with the sea. Hair freed from his ponytail and whipped around his face. Sea salt stung his eyes, forcing them to slit. His mere wind blocker cackled and pulled from him.
There was no use going to the main lobby, he'd paged them on his way in to bay. The room was ready and he was exhausted. He just prayed for a nice warm bed, he was dieing for sleep.
The walk would have been beautiful any other time. Darkness cloaked and shadows loamed over plant growth that sprung up like mountains around the stone walk way. Flowers would have brightened his day, but it was to dark for any summer joys.
His room was a small cottage off the northern tip; it was the farthest cabin away from the main rooms. He preferred to be alone on his vacations. He got enough of human life on his workdays; this was for relaxing, swimming, and maybe even a little fishing. Storms would pass, they always did, and when it did, he'd be the first to make use of it.
Reaching his door, he pulled it back. The entrance flowed to both rooms; consisting of sleeping area and kitchen. He could already see the king sized mattress and let a lazy smile slid into place. It smelled like citrus and lilac.
To tired to worry about anything else, Trunks trudged bedside, dropped his pants and climbed in. To his surprise, and pleasure, he found them soft and warm. His stuff muscles relaxed and he pulled the sheets up to his chin to settle into a deep, dreamless sleep.
*****
Marron drifted in to consciousness on a wave of pure ecstasy. Sun shined through blind less windows, lighting the table at the base. This had been a wonderful idea; she couldn't even remember why she fought against it. The people were so kind to her, if not a bit confusing with their strong Jamaican accents.
Her cheeks were still flushed from sleep; hair tousled in a crown of gold adorned her head. Cornflower eyes hazed in half aware slits. She snuggled down a little farther, reaching for more warmth. Strong arms embraced her, pulled her to it.
Strong, muscular arms, she found it to feel so safe in large arms. She swept one finger over it. Copper, she thought dazed, soft copper skin.
All at once, her eyes flung open. Arms? There were arms around her? She looked down again. She hadn't even noticed. They lay protective like around her waist, hold her where she was. Panic was the first to flash across her face, then anger. How dare some one sneak into her cabin, her bed, in the middle of the night and think they could sleep with her.
As much force as she could muster, she aimed an elbow at her attackers chest. It felt like stone, she realized. But it did the trick, the arms loosened. She practically whooped when she got free, there was just one problem; it was still in her bed.
Looking to the nightstand, she grabbed a porcelain flower vase and heaved it at where she figured its head would be. A muffled 'oof' granted her a demonic smirk as the vase shattered. The covers were thrown back as her attacker showed himself.
A gasp forced its way through her gapping mouth. He was lovely. And almost naked. His hand rubbed at his drooping eyes, then scratched at the rats nest of violet hair. She almost felt sorry when she caught sight of a drip of blood running from his temple. She straightened herself, this was no time to be granting anything, especially kindness, she decided. And in the clearest voice she could produce she began her brayed of questions.
"Who the hell are you?" He looked up at her with pure, innocent true blue eyes. She had to stop herself before she sighed.
"Wha?" He scratched at his eye again, trying to focus.
"Who are you, and what the hell do you think you're doing in my room?"
He scanned his eyes a crossed tables and decorations, shook his head. "This is my room."
She made herself glare. He was either lost or brave. Or maybe he was just really stupid. "Get out," She pointed a finger to the door. "Now."
This time he growled, pulling himself from the plush. He didn't know how she got in here, but she was obviously not healthy. "Look, I don't know how you are, or why you're in here, but this is my room, and you're the one that needs to leave."
If she hadn't been so furious at him, she would have noticed he had moved so close their faces where only a few inches away. "I don't know what you mean, this is my room. A friend of mine gave me the tickets for this trip. If you want to see the receipt, I'd be happy to show it to you." Her eyes narrowed another fraction. "Or would you prefer me just to call security?"
He let out a cold chuckle. "I don't care about receipts, or some friends booking you on a summer get away." He turned back toward the bed, planning to slip back in. "Call security if you want to."
"You better believe I will." She huffed, picking up the receiver. "No body speaks to a Chestnut like that."
Trunks paused. Chestnut? The Chestnuts? He turned back to her. "Marron?"
Shocked was the word she would have placed his expression. "Yah, Marron Chestnut, you a fan? Good for you." She focused back on the call. "Yes, could you send someone down to room 142? I've got a, hold on, what's you're name?" She asked Trunks.
He couldn't help himself to a loud below. She actually didn't remember him. "Hi Marron, It's good to see you again." He said it on an edge of a chuckle. Then gave her a classic grin.
She pulled the phone away from her head. "Trunks?" She felt a shiver run down her spine when he nodded. A smile bloomed on her face, dropped the receiver back in the cradle, and launched herself at him. "Trunks Briefs, you bastard! I can't believe it's you."
He swung her around as if she weight nothing. Setting her back down, he kissed the top of her head. "You look nothing like you used to, no wonder I couldn't figure it out it was you." She gripped tighter, then let go. "You even grew your hair out." He held up her waist length locks.
"I have one thing I feel you need." She said, raised her hand and swiped it across his face. "That's what you get for sneaking into bed with be." She walk to the other side of the bed. "And put these on while you're at it." She held up his pants, then flung them at him.
"Marron, I was serious though, this is my room. I book it every year around this time."
She lifted a brow. "And you think I wasn't? Trunks, your mother gave me the pass."