Chapter 36

I still couldn't believe what was going on. I look to Trunks and I walk to him. I grab his shirt and drag him away from the fridge.

"Hey! I wanted to get—"

I glared at him, "Not now!" I replied dragging him to the other room. I moved past Bulma and brushed past Vegeta, who had a smirk of amusement on his face. Oh yeah, if I were a bystander of this occurrence, I would probably find it funny that a grown man powerful enough to dominate the world physically and economically was being pushed around by his very pregnant wife.

"Pan," my husband almost pleaded while trying to catch his footing, "Could you please hold on a second? I don't think—"

I turned around to face him, and I glared. He visibly gulped. I brought out my pointer finger and started jabbing it into his chest. "You better tell me what that was Mister!"

Trunks blinked, "What's what?"

"That flash thingy! Well, it wasn't so much flash, but more like I'm in one room one moment and across the world in a totally different building in another! I don't know who to explain it! It was like... BOOM! And WOW! And SHEEN, and then WHAAA!!" I brought Trunks down to my level and held him in place, "Don't you dare try backing out of an explanation. Tell me what you just did, where it came from, and anything else that you know concerning that thing you did!"

Trunks only blinked, "Pan?"

I was breathing heavily as my shoulders began heaving up and down. "WHAT?!"

Trunks gave me a sheepish smile as he pointed to where I gripped his shirt. "Could you release me first?"

I blinked then released my hold on him. "I guess I don't know my own strength."

I didn't, but I knew I would probably be stronger than Trunks as long as he didn't turn super saiyan on me. I made sure to cross my fingers as I thought that.

He gave me a wary smile before rubbing any wrinkles out of the shirt. 'Do you think we should go to a more private room?' he silently asked me. His eyes were pleading for me to comply with his request. I had no clue as to why he would want for us to move. We were in the adjacent living room from the kitchen his parents were in...

'Is it because halls have ears?' I asked him back.

He nodded his head.

I wanted to slap my forehead. 'We could talk mentally about this.'

'And my mother would catch on and then harass us on how "cute" we look as we mentally converse.'

I grimaced. Yeah. Scary thought.

Trunks rubbed the back of his head as he reached for my hand. I graciously took it as he started leading me through the house.

'Trunks?"

He gave me a side glance as we rounded a corner.

'Could you like... flash us to where you want us to go?'

He looked over to me as a small smile displayed on his lips, 'You mean you want me to Instant Transmission us to my room?'

'Yeah, that,' I replied.

'If someone was in my room, yes, I could use Instant Transmission. But there are no energies located close to the area,' replied my husband as he chuckled. 'Eager are we?' he asked me.

I gave him a crooked glare. 'I want to know what this Instant Transmission thing is. Who did you learn it from?'

'Your grandfather.'

My face paled. 'You mean the sixty-year-old who looks to be no older than thirty who has a son, named Goten, which is an exact clone of him and has the hots for your sister?'

Trunks nodded his head, 'That's the one.'

My face scrunched up, 'Sick.' I tried shaking that image out of my head. 'Do you think my grandpa will teach me that technique?'

Trunks stopped in mid step and looked down to me. His ice blue eyes stared into mine as the grip of his hands became stronger. 'Your grandfather might be dense, but I seriously doubt he will teach this technique to you. I didn't learn this until I turned thirty.'

'And your age is now?'

Trunks glanced to the floor sheepishly. 'Thirty.'

I laughed. 'You just learned that freakishly awesome technique?!'

Trunks tugged me along, 'You're grandfather wanted to make sure Goten and I grew up and matured some before he passed the technique on to us.'

'And why did he wait so long?' I questioned.

Trunks looked away from me with bright red cheeks. 'Because your uncle and I were trouble makers...'

I raised an eyebrow. 'And he waited to teach this technique to you until now? I find that explanation fishy.'

And before we walked up a set of stairs, I gasped. "Stop Trunks," I stated.

He turned to me as I kept myself firmly planted on the ground. He tried tugging me to follow him, but I wouldn't budge. Trunks raised an eyebrow and waited.

I give him a stare that was so intense my eyes might have popped out... well, not that drastic but it was a very intense stare. I breathed in confidently and tried standing on my tippy toes to reach Trunks in height... and then I said, "The baby's hungry, and he wants food."

Trunks almost sighed in relief before patting my stomach, "And what is it that the baby wants?"

I knew he was preparing his mental checklist.

His mental checklist was not going to cut it.

"The baby wants lemon chicken."

Trunks nodded, "Anything else?"

I had to keep from smirking. "He also wants three chicken burgers, ten kosher beef hotdogs, a jar of pickles, a turkey-cucumber and mayonnaise sandwich, a pork chop with country gravy on the side, some liver cooked in chicken broth and asparagus, blueberry pancakes, a tomato, a grapefruit, ten tacos-- bean and cheese, chow mien, cabbage soup, a supreme signature pizza from the restaurant that is down the street from the apartment, a block of cheddar cheese—hard cheddar, a box of lucky charms, pork friend rice, and a glass of unsweetened green tea."

It was so hard to keep my face strait as Trunks' eyes became wider and wider as I added to the list. I could tell it was hard for him to process everything in his genius mind.

"A-anything else?" he asked me. Oh, I could smell the fear when he asked me that question.

I nodded my head. "I would like a watermelon, raspberry, passion tea smoothie."

Trunks nodded his head as he removed his hand from my stomach. He took one glance at me tilting his head, "Are you sure the baby wants all of that?"

The sad part is that was only a smidgen of what I was craving. The rest of the food would have to wait or until the craving died down... which might take a couple of days.

I nodded my head.

Trunks released a small breath. "Okay. I will be back soon," he replied.

He gave me a small kiss on the forehead, and I smiled. "Thank you Trunks." He stood back and placed two fingers on his forehead, a smile on his face.

My eyes widened, "Oh! One more thing!"

I could also smell the dread from him when I stated that sentence.

"Could you make sure to bring all of that food at one time? Once I start eating, I can't stop until it's all gone."

Trunks raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you don't want me to bring back one thing at a time?"

I shook my head displaying horror on my face. "The last time one of the saiyan guardians did that, I almost ate the couch when the small portion of food was gone." I patted my stomach, "The baby is really, really hungry."

My husband's face paled as he quickly vanished from the room.

When I could tell Trunks was gone from the premise of the home, I smiled. I turned around and rubbed my hands together as I headed back for the kitchen.

If Vegeta was still there then maybe I could train with him for a little while in that wonderful Gravity Simulator...

--

I did find Vegeta on my way to the kitchen, but my jaw dropped and my rage started feeding off of my hormone imbalance. "Why not?!"

"Trunks would kill me."

"Well, don't you want a good workout? I'm sure Trunks would give it to you if he found out I was training to become stronger," I pointed out to my father-in-law... oh, that's just a scary thought. Vegeta, my father-in-law?

I quiver.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his excessively built chest. "I would take you up on your offer if Trunks was still moping his ass around."

"Still?" I asked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

The saiyan king scoffed, "Your mate searched three straight months for you. When your father and I drug him home, he looked like a pitiful excuse for a saiyan."

My eyes widened. Three months?

"Don't give me that surprised shit. He was a warrior torn away from his mate. Any saiyan, even the strongest of warriors, would have broken down like he did," replied Vegeta as he turned away.

I reached my hand out and grabbed his shoulder. I did catch the slightest signs of surprise when I kept the saiyan king in place with my grip. "But wouldn't all those months make Trunks stronger?"

Vegeta shook off my hand and gave me one of his usual scowls. "Not if you don't eat and sleep all those months."

I blinked. Wow...

"And after you brought him back?" I questioned.

Vegeta scowled at the memory, "He moped like a long lost puppy trying to find its owner a week after."

"And then?"

Vegeta smirked, "I convinced him to become stronger."

Oh... so that's why Trunks seemed more toned...

"If anything" started my father-in-law, "I should be thanking you."

I blinked, "Why?"

Vegeta chuckled as he turned around. "I now have a good sparring partner. It would be unnecessary for me bring you to the training simulator." And he walked away.

I stood there as I watched Vegeta leave. My shoulders start to drop as my frustration starts to flare. "Sensei Vegeta! I want to train!"

I run in the direction the martial artist went, but I could tell he was already gone as I looked around in any possible direction he might have escaped to.

I release a sigh and cross my arms over my stomach.

My son started kicking in my tummy. I glared down at the stretched flesh covered in a comfortable cotton shirt, "What? Now you decide to mock me?"

I wince when he gives me one good kick that hits a very, very tender spot.

"Ow..."

I grab onto a nearby wall as I rub my tummy.

I pout. It's not fair. I want to train too...

And because I was so close to the kitchen, my nose picks up the faint aroma of... "Pizza." I lick my lips and start heading towards the kitchen. My eyes light up as Bulma pulls out a freshly cooked homemade pizza. That is something I know that cannot come from a box. Now, I've heard warnings from everyone not to eat Bulma's cooking, but it smells really, really good.

As I walk up behind Bulma I lightly tap her shoulder.

She turns her head and smiles when she sees me. My hands are behind my back. I try to look like an innocent person who would love a slice of that pizza. As a matter of fact, I would love to eat the whole thing...

"Would you like a slice?" asked Bulma as she pulled down another plate.

My smile grew wider.

Would I...

"Yes ma'am."

--

It's been three hours since I ate half of that pizza.

Oh shit—

I heave and empty all the contents from my stomach in an open toilet bowl. My stomach purged itself about thirty minutes ago, and I'm still hanging my head over the toilet.

Ugh...

I rub my forehead. A headache formed minutes ago, and it's really bothering me now.

I really shouldn't have eaten that pizza.

I flush the toilet and try to spit out any remaining traces of bile.

Man, I hate these cravings. The baby rejected what I fed it, and now it's hungry, really hungry. I HATE that sensation. I don't want to be hungry and nauseous at the same time. Baby, please calm down, please...

I was so drained. I felt like falling asleep right here and now... I could barely move. I crossed my arms over the toilet bowl and rested my head on my arms. I tried breathing as calmly as possible. Maybe this will be the last time I heaved...

My nose picked up a wonderful aroma of sweets, meats, and other good things to eat. I tried to keep my stomach settled. With the sudden smell of all these delectables, I felt my husband's energy.

Wonderful.

"Pan?"

"Hey," I replied weakly. "Could you put all that stuff in the other room?"

"Sure," he replied momentarily stepping out of the large bathroom.

I started closing my eyes. I was so tired.

I felt him walk back into the room. "What are you doing with your head hanging over a toilet?" he asked me.

"I ate some pizza."

He sat beside me and began rubbing my back, "Pizza? I was out getting some for you."

I spit out more saliva that tasted like bile into the toilet. "I smelt a wonderful aroma of pizza."

"And you ate it?"

I nodded.

"Where was the pizza from?" he asked me still rubbing my back.

I glanced at him as my head rose, "It was homemade."

Trunks face paled. "Homemade?"

I nodded.

"Who made it?" he asked. I could sense the fear in his voice. And I'm sure he already knows the answer.

"Your mother made it...?"

Trunks face became as white as a sheet. "What?!"

"It smelt really good," I reasoned.

"Pan," stated my husband seriously, "NEVER EVER, EVER eat anything my mother makes. Didn't I tell you that some months ago?! Her mind can't decipher things from the lab and the kitchen. She might create a delicious smelling form of rat poison for all we know!"

I winced, "Yes, but I was hungry, and that smelled really, really good!"

"What were you trying to do? Kill our baby?!" questioned Trunks placing his hand on my stomach. He closed his eyes, no doubt to check and see how our child was doing. He released a sigh of relief. "You need to stay away from my mother's cooking."

"Even if the food smells appetizing?" I asked softly.

Trunks nodded his features completely stoic. "Even if it smells edible, NEVER eat my mother's cooking." He gave me a hug and soothingly rubbed my stomach. I could feel his hand giving our son energy. "Do you still feel like eating?"

"Yes."

He released me and looked into my eyes, "Should I find some crackers to settle your stomach?"

I shook my head. "I want you to stay here."

His features softened at my request.

I smiled back... until I felt my stomach clench once more.

I turned my head back to the toilet and heaved.

Even with my head unattractively shoved down the toilet, Trunks still sat there and rubbed my back.

--