Once again, I do not own DBZ, and frankly, I never asked to use it. Sorry, but don't sue me.
Butterfly
Megs woke slowly, stretching with the sheer relief that comes from a good night's
sleep. Eyes still closed, face burrowed in her pillow, she sighed, hugging the fluffy duvet
to her chest. Warm, and comforting.
And it didn't smell right. Her room had always smelt like baby powder, but this
room smelled...rugged. Manly. Nice, granted, but not like her room. Her eyes blinked
open, to find herself staring into a deep white pillow. Not purple like hers. She shrugged,
and closed her eyes again. Ah, well. Her mother must have replaced the pillow cover.
That must be why it smelled different too.
Burrowing back under the covers, she buried her head under layers of feather-
filled duvets, wriggling in the delight of being warm and cozy. The sweet smell of bacon
and eggs wafted into the room, and she smiled. Mom was cooking her breakfast. How
nice. Drifting in and out of a comfortable sleep, Megs had to wonder why her alarm
clock hadn't gone off yet. It couldn't possibly be that early anymore, and yet the loud and
incredibly annoying contraption hadn't disturbed her peace. *It's not Saturday*, she
thought, frowning despite her resolve just to enjoy it. *Why hasn't mom woke me up yet,
or something?*
Rolling onto her side, Megs pushed off the blankets, sat up, and opened her eyes.
They widened considerably.
"What in the *world*...?!"
This was certainly *not* her room. It was a pleasant room - all done in shades of
blue and white, but it wasn't *hers*. Darting to the door, she flung it open, to find herself
staring out at an apartment that was certainly not her home. And standing at the stove,
flipping the bacon, was a man that was certainly *not* her father. He was taller, for one
thing, and a good deal more muscled, with long purple hair slung back in a low ponytail.
Her angel, she realized with surprise.
He heard the sound of her closing the door, and turned to look at her. He had
gentle blue eyes, and he smiled slightly. "Good morning. Sleep well?"
Megs stared at him, agape.
He smiled a little more. "I won't bite."
"I thought you were a dream," Megs confessed, heading into the room slowly. She
was suddenly very aware of the fact that she wore a rumpled pair of jeans, his wrinkled
tanktop, and that her red hair was a royal mess. She was also painfully aware of the fact
that Trunks looked absolutely perfect, from his smooth violet hair to his carefully pressed
pants. He was a good looking guy, wasn't he?
She ducked her head to hide her blush, and sat quickly at the table, letting the
golden morning light pour over her, trying to smooth her hair.
"I thought you were too," Trunks laughed, bringing two plates over to the table.
"Hungry?"
"Thanks," Megs grinned, and picked up a fork. A black cat curled around her feet,
and she leaned under the table to stroke it's sleek fur. "What's your cat's name?"
"Vegeta," Trunks said, setting down his knife. "Named him after my father."
Megs smiled, and began eating. "Soo....you rescued me out of a flaming bus, and
take me back to your apartment. You do this kind of thing often?"
He laughed. "No. And I *would* have brought you home, but you fell asleep
before I could ask you were home was. So I just brought you here. I hope you don't mind
too much."
"So long as *you* slept in a different bed, no problem." She stabbed her fried egg.
"I guess I should probably be going home, though."
Trunks looked disappointed. "You sure? I mean, I thought, maybe, you'd like to
see my mother, or something. She works at Capsule Corp."
Megs tapped her lip with the end of her fork. "I've heard of that. Might actually be
interesting. What's your mom's name?"
"Bulma. Bulma Briefs."
Meg's eyebrows shot skyward. "Bulma and Trunks *Briefs*?"
"Yeah," he nodded, oblivious to her expression. "And you can meet my sister,
Bra."
"*Bra*?!" Megs exploded in laughter. She quickly grabbed her glass of orange
juice, hiding her mirth behind her glass. "Sorry," She grinned, not looking sorry at all.
"But, *Bra*...."
Trunks grinned, leaned across the table, and patted her hand. "Don't worry. Wait'll
you meet my father. You'll just *love* him."