Disclaimer: If I were 21, I'd be able to own an empty 6-pack. But I'm not. So instead I just get to "pretend" to own "my" truck...the poc on the side of the house whose engine is inside the garage.

A/N: Yep, 2 chapters. Is what happens when ff.net is down when I update.

*********************
Petrified Tears
chapter 53

Pan shivered at his touch, his fingers barely glissing the skin under her chin. His eyes probed into hers, and despite that damned smirk, his eyes belied his confidence. They were timid, scared…she would even use the word "hopeful" if she were to take the time to think about it. But the truth of the matter was, she couldn't think. And wouldn't have been able even grasp the concept of doing so had she been told to.

His eyes were stormy, so many layers of clouds and shields, that it was a wonder she could see the perfect blue that they really were. But she could.

His fingers moved under her chin, sliding along the side of her neck, pulling her closer as he hooked his hand behind her head, settling it over the bottom of her hairline, fingers running through her hair, his thumb stroking the tender skin behind her left ear. His face drew closer, his eyes clearer and yet more tormented all at once.

Pan felt her heartbeat rocket into the danger zone as his nose brushed against hers. Their eyes locked—whereas earlier she could have looked away had she tried, she couldn't now unless she drew away completely. His thumb moved slowly behind her ear, but she barely noticed.

His lips were slightly parted, his breath, oddly shallow, lapping against her own lips as the inch between them wavered in distance.

His eyes demanded that she keep her attention on them. She could almost say he was begging her to finish what he had indirectly started, but at the same time, she could almost say that he was just waiting to be sure she didn't drive her conveniently placed knee into his groin.

Kiss me, she pleaded quietly, and in her mind, she almost sounded like she was whimpering; but in reality, she hadn't said a thing. Please, kiss me.

His thumb twitched, and she could swear to Dende she could hear his voice in her head.

Panny…

She blinked, slowly drawing her lashes down to follow the lazy pace set by her eyelids. Her lashes brushed against his, and she could feel him shiver through the tentative connection they were sharing. She opened her eyes at the same slow pace, and in the heartbeat that the connection between their eyes had been closed, something in his eyes had changed.

They were gentler, kinder…hell, she might even go as far to say that his entire world had been turned upside down and ransacked by the way he was looking at her. His hand flexed in her hair, and with one last glimpse into her soul through her eyes, the distance between them was closed.

Her eyes closed reflexively, and as his lips touched hers, she couldn't repress the silent sigh that slipped out between them. She could feel him smile, his lips curling up as they prodded hers in attempt to get some sort of physical response out of them. His lips seemed to melt into hers, and for an irrational second, she was terrified that if she kissed him back, they'd never separate and would have to explain to everyone what had happened. But as his lips started to draw away, his mouth beginning to frown because it seemed she hadn't wanted this, she leaned towards him, refusing to let him draw away from her.

As the kiss threatened to deepen, Pan's mind screamed into "on" mode, reminding her of who she was kissing. She ignored her mind and the voice of reason, forcing her body to lean against his, her arms to wrap around his neck. She had to fight herself, but she managed alright.

His fingers kneaded the back of her scalp, his lips caressing her own.

They drew away; his hand slid back along her jawline, coming to rest beneath her chin, the ends of two fingers lifting her face to look him in the eye.

Her heart had nearly busted with joy at the look he'd given her.

All shields were gone, all of the torment. They'd reached the eye of the storm.

And without him saying a word, she knew.

He—


With a groan, Pan flopped over and slammed her hand on her alarm clock, accidentally using too much force and rendering the small mechanical menace into something just as useful as a third leg, her hand breaking through the top board of her nightstand.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, unwilling to meet the day.

She'd gotten maybe an hour of sleep after the mini-bout involving Trunks and her father and the 3 hour "chat" she'd then had with her father. Grabbing onto the bar on the top of her headboard, she hauled herself up into a sitting position, looking around the room with tired eyes that were bleary and blurry and that didn't want to focus, wiping the sleep away from her eyes with tired fingers.

"Even college wasn't this bad," she grumbled, stumbling out of bed and to her closet, then down the hall to the bathroom for a long needed and anticipated shower.

*

She yanked the bathroom door open, for a moment forgetting that it wasn't the sticky bathroom door from the frat house back in California. Adorned in spandex shorts that reached mid-thigh and a dark grey tiny-tank, she staggered down the stairs, her white towel draped over her head like the cowl of a monk.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Gohan laughed brightly upon seeing his daughter trudge into the kitchen in such a state. Despite the fact that he had slept less then she had, for some reason, he was more awake.

She grunted in response as she staggered towards the coffee pot, grabbing it from it's hotpad in the Mr. Coffee and drinking it straight from the pot, ignoring the fact that it was straight and as black as it could get, and that her father was probably waiting for another cup.

"Let's just pretend I'm scolding you, Panny," he laughed, watching as she downed the rest of the pot and wiped off the spout she had drank from with the corner of her tank. "But if your grandmother finds out…well, Trunks would have faired better against me last night then you will against her."

Putting the pot back in the Mr. Coffee, she looked back at her father, eyes awake but still confused with sleep.

"Don't kill him, Daddy."

Gohan laughed. "I have no intention of killing him. Now that I know what's going on, I think he himself did far worse then I could have done. Besides, seeing the boy squirm is more then enough to satisfy my need to protect my little girl."

Pan shook her head and walked towards him. She tilted her head back and cocked it, looking up at him with wondering eyes, pulling the towel off with one hand, then straightened her head and leaned forward in a headbutt until her forehead rested on his chest.

"I don' wanna go to work today, Daddy," she mumbled into his chest, eyes closed and nose upturned against his shirt.

He laughed, rubbing her back.

"Want me to call Bulma and tell her you were killed so that you can stay home and sleep?"

Pan laughed in spite of her exhaustion, her mind reaching back to high school mornings much like this one.

"To tell the truth, I fear her more then any other enemy there could ever be."

"Why do you say that, Panny?" Gohan asked, amused and curious.

"She knows where I live."

Gohan started laughing. "Go upstairs and get dressed then. Trunks just pulled up and I want to talk to him before you two leave today."

"I am dressed," she mumbled, setting her hands on her father's stomach and pushing herself upright to look him sternly in the eye.

"Pan?"

"You're just going to talk to him, right Daddy?" she warned, her eyes holding an edge to them that he had learned to respect only a few hours before.

He nodded, reaching up and scratching the dark purple bruise covering the top half of the left side of his head that had resulted in his collision with his lawn a few hours before.

"Just talk," he assured her, his eyes warm behind the black rims that framed his eyes.

Pan nodded contentedly and dropped back against his chest.

He laughed as he heard the knock on the door.

"Go upstairs and get dressed," he ordered as the door opened and Trunks's head popped inside and called out "Hello?"

"I am dressed," she grumbled. "I'm wearing more then I did yesterday."

"We're in here," Gohan called out, then looked back at the small black head that had attached itself to his shirt.

"No you're not, Panny. Now go upstairs and get dressed."

"I'm wearing clothes."

"Panny, you might as well be in your underwear," he told her, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he talked to the back of her head.

"No I'm not. And besides, I never hear you telling Mom to go get dressed when she comes down stairs in shorts and a tank."

"Pan," he said awkwardly, voice cracking slightly, "that's different. She's your mother and never really goes out in public dressed like that…"

"Mom used to go to school dressed like this."

"No she didn't Pan—"

"Don't give me that. I've seen your yearbook," she teased, still talking into his white tee-shirt.

Gohan laughed.

"School was different. Capsule Corps is—"

"Look at him and tell me I'm not dressed accordingly," Pan snapping, lifting her arm and pointing at Trunks who stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Gohan turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the boy who stood there in baggy jeans and an old lime-green tee-shirt with Capsule written across the front in cracking off-cream letters that had probably been white at the start of their existence. A black cloth-like belt held up the pants, the end hanging three or four inches below his belt line. The old sneakers were nothing new, but the rest was in total defiance of Bulma.

Making eye contact with the boy, Gohan understood. He looked back down at his daughter's head.

"He's expecting me to kill him and decided to die comfortably. You have no excuse. Go get dressed."

Pan grumbled inaudibly for a moment, then raised her voice for him to hear. "Yeah? Well, I'm expecting to have to keep you from killing him."

Gohan laughed again and grabbed his daughter's shoulders, pushing her fully upright and lifting her chin to look into her eyes, silently reminding her of his promise.

"Go upstairs and get dressed."

"Fine, but don't say anything when I come back down in comfortable clothes."

"You do that, Sweetheart," he laughed, watching as she trudged out of the room and up the stairs, dragging the wet white towel behind her like a child dragging a blanket. As soon as they heard the click of her door closing, her turned to Trunks, watching happily as the boy tried unsuccessfully not to squirm.

A moment later, Gohan cracked a smile and watched the boy's face grow muddled with confusion. "I hate to disappoint you, Trunks, but I'm not going to kill you." He waited a moment for his words to sink in, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Today."

Trunks just stared at him, watching in utter confusion until Gohan gave him the smile that no one could ever forget. Trunks shifted uncomfortably.

"She told you?"

"More then she wanted to, but yes. She told me."

Trunks smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, then stuffed his hands back into his pockets, letting the hem of the tee-shirt bunch up on his wrists.

"I guess I really owe her for saving my sorry ass."

Gohan laughed. "Something like that." He paused, then smiled at the boy and motioned to the table. Trunks shied away from the offered chair and silently declined. "Although I am rather surprised you were actually willing to fight me a few hours ago."

Trunks shrugged.

"So was I," he confessed a moment later.

Gohan laughed and pulled an extra coffee mug out of the cupboard and lifted the refilled coffeepot. He moved to pour the cup, but then paused and righted the pot, frowning at it.

"You looked as surprised as I felt when she broke in on us."

Trunks gingerly put fingers to the side of his head, feeling the soft and slightly swollen bruise that still made it hard for him to focus, and nodded. "I knew she'd try and stop us, but I wasn't expecting her to try and knock me unconscious," he admitted, looking at Gohan and blushing slightly.

"If I'd yelled, I'd have been ignored. If I stood in the way, I'd have gotten my nose broken, and you deserved a decent whap," came the voice of the girl as she walked from behind him into the kitchen, walking towards her father and taking the coffee pot away from him right as he was about to dunk the mug into the top and pull out a cup. "Thanks, Daddy."

"Pan, don't—no, Pan, don't—" He broke into unpleased growls and snarls as she lifted the pot to her lips and took a long swig. She stopped at the fridge, pouring cream and sugar into the pot, swirling the pot in her hand, and took another drink. "Pan, the first time it was cute and I wasn't going to say anything because I know you didn't sleep last night. But now you're trying my patience."

"Start yourself a pan of water boiling, make coffee, and drink up," she replied, hopping up onto the tabletop, slightly spreading her legs and holding the pot in both hands between her knees as she leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, and smiled with a mischievous spark lighting her eyes.

He looked back at her, noting the old jeans with the hole in the left knee and that she had to roll up twice at the bottom in order for her feet to be seen. He glared disapprovingly at the ratty (once but no longer) white canvas sneakers that she'd had since forever ago that he and Videl and tried to throw out more times then they'd try to make Goten sleep in his room.

"Pan," he started, but she sat up, indicating that she'd tossed a light, white zippered sweatshirt over the tank.

"I'm dressed Daddy. I told you not to start with me."

"I'm talk about the sneakers."

A look of confusion passed over her face, and then the statement registered, bringing on a different expression of confusion. "Yeah, I was meaning to ask why I found them in the garbage this morning."

Gohan dropped his head against his chest, swore silently, then walked over and grabbed the coffee pot out of her hands, taking a drink himself.

"Gohan!"

He opened one eye and turned it towards the door where his mother stood, hands on hips, glaring at him with all the scorn a mother can muster towards her son. He swallowed and lowered the pot, hastily licking his lips.

"Time to go to work!" Pan cried, jumping off the table and dashing between her grandmother and father to grab Trunks, turn him around and steer him towards the door, pausing only to kiss her grandmother on the cheek and throw her father a wink and a thumbs up. "Enjoy your coffee, Daddy!"

Trunks laughed, opening the door and bowing deeply, motioning for her to pass through. Pan shook her head and started through, then paused as she noticed her uncle passed out on the couch, mouth wide open in a snore, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other dragging on the ground; one leg draped over the back of the couch, the other resting with his foot on the floor.

"You'd think he didn't have a room," Pan laughed as Trunks shoved her out the door.

"Or know what a bed is," Trunks laughed, knowing all too well that the dimensions of the Son's couch was not in proportion to the height of a full-grown male saiyan. He closed the door behind him, and watched as she nodded approvingly at the bike parked next to the walk, in the furrow that one of them had left a few hours earlier when Gohan had powered up.

"Nice ride," she allowed, following him down the path to the bike, running her fingers along the orange motorcycle with the blue flames.

Trunks merely shrugged, reaching into the storage compartment on the side. "My sister and mom meant to give it to you last Saturday at the end of the party as a welcome back gift, but," his voice hitched on the rest of the statement. He hesitated, looking back at her nervously, unsure of how much she'd forgiven his father.

"But then Vegeta stepped in and told me to fuck off." She shrugged. "I've been thinking about that," she admitted, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, slouching a little, shoulders rolled back—either from exhaustion or habit he couldn't tell. "I actually think I owe him. He has that way of his of knowing anything and everything that's going on, whether or not he's told, asks, or even studies his 'subjects'. I think he knew I was just as trashed as you that night, and that one conveniently placed word would throw me over."

Trunks nodded. "Yeah, that's him. Hasn't changed in all the years anyone has known him—although he's finally stopped thirsting for world domination." He smirked as he recalled the night of the party. "Although I get the feeling he wasn't expecting you to land a blow and knock him through the wall."

Pan laughed as he pulled her jean jacket out of the bag.

"Here."

She smiled, shrugging into it, pulling the hood of the white sweatshirt out to hang over the back. "How many times have I lost this thing in the past week?"

"More times then your bandana?" he asked innocently.

"Not hardly," she laughed, reaching into the pocket of the jacket and pulling the bandana out of it.

Trunks laughed in turn as he mounted the bike, sitting up and waiting for her, watching as she stuffed the bandana into her back pocket, allowing a corner to hang out. "Anyways, since my car is still sitting in the Capsule Corps parking lot with no windshield, I figured, 'hey, take the bike.' It's yours Friday night. Until then, we're carpooling and I'm driving."

Pan smiled at him as she climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest as he revved the engine and smirked back at her.

"If I didn't know better," she called over the purring roar of the engine, her eyes sparkling, "I'd say you were the same age I am!"

His smirk deepened, and he took off without warning, leaning into the wind as he took a detour through the trees, jumping the fallen bodies he had taken out hours before when she had taken him down, zipping down deer trails and rabbit paths, splashing through the stream and making the bike fly. Behind him, Pan screamed ecstatically, laughing, one hand wrapped around him to secure her to the bike, the other thrown into the air in a fist as they roared down backroads towards the city. The same back roads that Bra had taken her down four days ago while stalling to start their shopping trip.

************************
A/N: I know, everything sucks, yeah. I know, that everything suck, whoa-oh-oh. I know, everything sucks, yeah-this is gonna be the last time you hear me complain.

I have been introduced to the wonderful lyrics of Reel Big Fish. ;P

So, now that you've read, please review! Not like I'll know or anything, but still, eventually I'll get around to checking my reviews. Review por favor!

-Panabelle ;P
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt All submissions welcome.