A/N—Hello All. I know I took a long time to get this chapter out, and to be honest with you, it isn't even a whole chapter. For those of you who read the Author's Notes, you may remember me mentioning that this is a Gift Fic. It was meant to be for my good friend Claire, but she won't get the chance to read it anymore. She lost her battle with Cancer a week before Halloween and because of that I just couldn't write for a while. I did get all of your messages and emails, but I just didn't know what to say. Claire was the huge DBZ fan of the two of us. She loved everything Anime. She loved drawing and the smell of camp fires and pumpkin spice ice cream. The last time we spoke, we talked for about twenty minutes about this fic alone and for weeks I was so angry about that. I felt like I could have chosen something more important to talk about. Something real. But I've finally decided that I can let go of that anger. This fic (as silly as it may sound) was something that she looked forward to. It was something that made her happy. And if I could contribute to that happiness in her last days, then I should be happy too. I'll start Chapter Five tomorrow. It will be up by the weekend. RIP Claire "Ivy" Mason.

CHAPTER FOUR

He could feel her coming from miles away. It was her… no mistaking. One second her ki would be low, contemplative… then it would spike into a barely contained fury before slowly simmering back down to normal. Moments later her ki swelled again, reaching levels so high that he wouldn't be surprised at all if the excess energy expelled from her body, forming a faint glow all around her as it tended to do.

Trunks anticipated that Pan would come barreling into his apartment any minute now, shouting expletives at him and taking a few well-aimed swings. But just as the mental image had formed, her ki vanished.

She's suppressing it, he thought with a smirk and a rush of excitement. He was so sure that he had a good fight coming his way. So sure that her vanishing ki was part of some half-hashed plan to attempt to catch him off guard. As if she could sneak up on me. I'd be shocked if everyone in West City didn't feel those surges of emotion.

He strolled into his bedroom, loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes as he went. Oh yes. Knowing Pan, she would be on a warpath when she came in. There was no doubt in his mind after what she'd just been through at the salon. With quick, proficient fingers, he stripped off his jacket and dress shirt, discarded his slacks and pulled on his training gear. The thrill of the fight laced through his veins. It had been a long time since he and Pan had gotten a good spar in and her anger would only add to the experience.

She'll be here any minute, he thought, and took his position in front of the door.

But any minute turned into an hour, then that hour stretched out into five hours. He was actually starting to get worried about her. Perhaps he misread her ki? Maybe he wasn't sensing anger, but fear? Had someone attacked her? Is that why her ki so suddenly vanished? But who in New York would be able to take on Pan and live to tell the tale? The odds were astronomical. But then, Buu and Baby managed to come out of nowhere. Perhaps some new foe had come along? Perhaps Pan was his first target? Was she okay? Was she alive?

Blinded with panic, he raced to the door and wrenched it open, fully intending to race through the streets to track her down. He'd cover every corner of the city first, and if he hadn't seen, felt, or heard from her before he finished his sweep, he would call in the rest of the gang.

!SLAP!

"A BRAZILLIAN BIKINI WAX!? Have you lost your damn mind!?"

He stumbled back a few steps, cradling his now reddened cheek in his hand. "Pan? Where the fuck have you been?! I've been worried sick!"

"Serves you right!" she shouted and hauled an alarming number of shopping bags through the door. The pile of merchandise was so tall that Pan's small frame was completely buried behind it. There were bags from the salon, bags from Gucci, bags from Victoria's Secret and bags from Coach just to name a few. She tossed them to the ground, forming a heap of designer apparel, then lashed out and plucked a single hair from Trunks' forearm.
"OW!"

"Yeah," she said, her tone a barely audible threat. "Imagine that times a thousand you sick fuck. I've had that done to every part of my body… even the parts that aren't hairy! Arms, legs, armpits and other places that should never have hot wax applied to them."

"Aw c'mon, Pan. Don't be mad at me," he said. Now that he saw she was okay, he was barely able to contain his laughter.

She narrowed her eyes at him, thought about slapping the other side of his face, then pulled his credit card from her back pocket. "Oh. You laugh now, but just wait until you see your bill. You don't think I paid for all of this stuff, do you?"

He eyed the pile at his feet. "Treat yourself to a shopping spree at my expense?"

"You bet your ass I did. And that's not all. You paid my rent for the next four years as well. I'm a struggling college student after all. I can't be stressed out with something as petty as rent."

"Is that all?" he asked, his blue eyes dancing with humor. "What's that add up to? A hundred grand? Two at most? That's chump change. My sister can spend that much in her sleep. I'm not impressed."

"Are you kidding me?" she gaped. "You mean to say I spent the whole day shopping for no reason?"

This time he didn't even bother to try to contain his laughter. It was a well-known fact that Pan despised shopping. For her to have put herself through such a self-inflicted torture only to find her attempts ineffective was hilarious to him. "That's right, but I must say, you are looking very lovely this way. Maybe I should piss you off more often."

And it was true. It appeared that a chunk of his money was spent at the salon itself. She had not only endured the waxing, but she also got her hair cut and her face polished. He wondered if some of the salon bags on the floor contained the makeup that she wore now. It looked very good on her. In fact, this was the first time in his life that he realized her eyes were not black as he had once thought, but a rich brown instead.

"It's no use trying to sweet talk me. I'm still angry."

"I'm not sweet talking. I'm serious." He toed a few of the bags, trying to peer inside. "Are you going to show me what all I bought?"

He had just lifted the top off of a pink and white box and caught a glimpse of something sheer and lacy before Pan's foot came crashing down on top of his. "That's not for you."

"Is that so? It looked a lot like lingerie. If it's not for me, then who else would you be buying it for? You know the rules. No other partners are permitted."

"In case you've forgotten, there is a reason behind this whole ordeal. Eventually, I'll be staying with Leon Starr and I didn't want to go into that unprepared."

"Oh I see," he frowned. "So my hard earned money is being spent to please Leon, is it?" This bothered him more than it should. Trunks didn't even like that guy's music, the last thing he wanted was to spend a small fortune pleasing that no talent man-whore. Of course, a great deal of his animosity towards him rooted from the fact that the man had (unknowingly) altered his relationship with Pan. A twinge of panic spasmed through his chest and he had to fight to suppress it before she noticed.

"So…" Pan began, her voice was small, hesitant, as she interrupted the silence that he'd barely taken note of. "Do we… you know… start our lessons now? Since the safety and maintenance is pretty much covered?"

He waved his hand airily. "You have to wait at least twenty four hours. Waxing opens your pores and we don't want any, um, fluids or anything getting in there. That's how people wind up with gnarly infections."

"Oh." She did recall the lady at the salon mentioning something about that. But at the time it all seemed like static and background noise swirling around in her own personal Hell.

"Don't worry though," he said, crossing to the entertainment center that stretched across the entire length of the west wall. "You're going to have plenty of material to keep you occupied."

"Material?"

He opened the cabinet on the far right, then pulled the back paneling out to reveal a hidden compartment. From there he pulled out a stack of DVDs. "Study material," he said.

Even from where she stood, a good twenty feet away, she could see what type of study material he was referring to. The covers were littered with women in a variety of compromising poses. Some of them were caught in a moment of elation, others wore looks of innocent surprise and then some looked like they were torn between horrendous pain and the peak of pleasure. "Porn? You have hidden porn? Trunks Brief! You little pervert."

"I'm not a pervert. I'm a guy. Any guy who tells you he doesn't watch porn is a liar."

She cocked one of her freshly plucked brows at him. She could think of a number of guys who most likely did not partake in the porn watching, but perhaps she was wrong. Trunks was a guy after all, so he would know much better than her. "And want do you want me to do with… all this? I thought that it was all supposed to be cheesy and unrealistic. You don't expect me to act like these women do you?"

He circled behind her and tucked the DVDs into her book bag. "Skim through it. Take note of the way they move their bodies. Watch what they do with their hands and whatnot."

"Their hands?"

"You'd be surprised at how much of a difference the way someone uses their hands can make. It can morph boring sex into extraordinary sex."

"You're kidding."

"Trust me, I'm dead serious."

"Fine," she grumbled. This was one assignment she was not looked forward to. Especially with nosey Mrs. Shelton on the other side of the wall.

Trunks pressed his lips into a line, trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his amusement. "I'll have Charles send you things over to your place," he said, nudging the bags with the toe of his shoe. "Except this one." He pinned one of the Victoria's Secret boxes under he booted and dragged it towards him. "The way I see it, if I am the one who has to pay for all of this, I deserve a little peek."

She bit her lip, wondering which piece was in that box, hoping against hope that it wasn't one of the scarier ones. If she was being completely honest, she'd have to admit that she bought some of those knowing that she'd never wear them. She'd just wanted to run up his bill a little more.

"I think I should get to decide which one you can see."

"I think not," he laughed. "I like the idea of it being a surprise for both of us. Besides, if I let you choose, you'd probably pick out something ridiculous. Like faded beige granny panties or something."

"I would not!"

He raised his brows at her and she let it drop. He had he caught. That was precisely the type of thing that she would do. "Be back here Monday. Eight o'clock. Oh, and be sure to eat before you get here. It will be the start of week two, the Maiden Voyage. You're going to need the energy."