Bra hurried across the room to her mother, rolls of blue crepe paper filling her arms and trailing after her shoes like dogs on a leash. Bulma orchestrated the room full of robots like a modern maestro. Her art, interior design. Her only movement was her flowing blue hair and her fluttering hands.
"Over there," the hands explained, "and up there." Bulma herself didn't say a word. Bra instantly began draping the paper around the corners and ceiling.
A robot bleeped enquiringly. Bulma's hands shooed it on to its destination. Pan shifted her feet out of the other corner of the doorway so the 'stupid thing' would stop beeping indignantly at her for being in its way. Something about lower humans (?!) taking up entire doorways. Pan glared at the metal monster before shifting back into her comfortable position, leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed, to study the orchestrated chaos. Another robot that looked vaguely like a silver teddy bear dumped its armload of party favors at her feet. "What?" she asked it, cocking her head to the side. The teddy bear mimicked her. Pan giggled quietly, so as not to disturb the quiet beeping of the room. Her giggle abruptly ended when the bear was startled enough to wheel RIGHT OVER HER BIG TOE. Pan grabbed her foot and leaned even harder in the doorway. Her yelp was barely contained behind clenched teeth. Of course, Bulma noticed EVERYTHING that went on in her room. Her hands were covering her mouth, trying to contain the laughter. Bra's face was buried in the pile of crepe paper, her hair nearly blending in with it to camouflage her.
Pan turned bright red and lowered her foot back to the ground. Calmly… calmly… don't want to make a fool of yourself…. "Anything I can do to help?"
Bra pulled her head out of the paper, revealing a bright red face. "Unless you can cook, which we all know you can't, then no."
"The caterer bailed on us," Bulma explained, slightly apologetic for her daughters bad manners.
Pan blushed. It was common knowledge that her last cooking lesson had been considered a natural disaster, and her teacher pronounced that Pan shouldn't have access to a lighter, much less a stove. Pan was still doling out punishment for that remark; Trunks was permanently scarred from all the teasing he got from his family and friend about the pink frilly apron he liked to wear around the kitchen. "Maybe Grandma would cook for you?"
"Can Chichi pull together a banquet in…" Bulma checked her watch, "17 hours?"
Pan scoffed. "If she can make a meal for four saiyans in 20 minutes flat, then she can definitely cook a few things for a party."
Bulma's hands set to swaying again, and another robot crossed an item off the list on a dry erase board on the wall. "Why does this have to be a surprise party? Since Trunks already knows, and we've only had so long to plan it….." Bra whined while she hung up decorations.
Pan rolled her eyes and tuned her best friend out. Sometimes a person could only listen to so much.
A robot handed Pan a phone and she dialed her grandmother's number.
"Hello? Grandma? We're wondering if you could cook for Trunks' part…"
"PARTY????" Pan held the phone at arm length to protect her eardrums from Chichi's ecstatic yelling. "OF COURSE I'll COOK."
Pan pulled a puppy face and tried to hand the phone to Bulma. "Please? I can't take any more yelling today…."
Bulma pushed the phone away, "No way, jose."
"Bra?"
"Not on your life."
"Damn."
Chichi continued yelling into phone. Pan just hung up and handed the phone to a robot. "She won't notice that there's no one else on the line for at least five minutes." Pan crossed her fingers.
"So…." Bulma sent a slanty look at Pan over her waving hands, "What's going on with you and Trunks? Am I going to hear wedding bells and the pitter patter of little feet soon?"
Pan turned bright red, and the memory of the cold hard tile floor and Trunks' warm, solid body popped into her head. "According to Trunks, there's already been a wedding." She muttered, bowing her face to hide behind her thick curtain of long black hair.
Bra snorted and turned back to her crepe paper webs. "Tell us something we don't know," she grumbled.
"Well, if you're so interested, why don't you ask Trunks? He's the one who's REALLY having this relationship…."
The two women rolled their eyes simultaneously. "Don't sound so bitter." They glanced at each other, surprised. "Well, that was interesting…"
"Ah!!!"
Pan shook her head and retreated before the mother and daughter team revealed that they were long lost twins or something to that effect. Genetics should only go so far. …
"Umph!" Pan rubbed her forehead took a moment to notice that the carpet was supposed to be softer.
"Watch where you're going, woman." How hard did I HIT my head? Brick walls aren't supposed to talk…
"O, hello Vegeta." Pan looked up at the 'wall' she ran into. He smirked down at her from under a brooding widows peak.
"Hello, woman." He uncrossed one of his arms and silently offered her a hand up.
Pan took it immediately; after all, she wasn't one to pass up such a rare opportunity, especially not with her 'father-in-law'. Pan felt a little less at ease once she was standing up. There was very little of the soldier-like comadrie left in Vegeta's expression. Rather, he seemed to be pondering something pretty hard. If he was anyone else, Pan would have offered a penny for his thoughts, but this was VEGETA. "Um… yeah. Can I go now?"
Vegeta waved his hand in dismissal, "Yes, you're dismissed."
After Pan left, she had to stop and go back over the entire scenario. "Strange family…."
The air car parked smoothly on the cement drive. Pan slipped off the heavy leather sandals that were currently in style, and stepped out into the cold, slightly damp grass. She sank down and just looked at the house, thinking about all the lies and evasion tactics she'd used since 'the accident'.
"Please," She begged whoever was listening, "don't let it be like this forever."
"The caterer bailed on us," Bulma explained, slightly apologetic for her daughters bad manners.
Pan blushed. It was common knowledge that her last cooking lesson had been considered a natural disaster, and her teacher pronounced that Pan shouldn't have access to a lighter, much less a stove. Pan was still doling out punishment for that remark; Trunks was permanently scarred from all the teasing he got from his family and friend about the pink frilly apron he liked to wear around the kitchen. "Maybe Grandma would cook for you?"
"Can Chichi pull together a banquet in…" Bulma checked her watch, "17 hours?"
Pan scoffed. "If she can make a meal for four saiyans in 20 minutes flat, then she can definitely cook a few things for a party."
Bulma's hands set to swaying again, and another robot crossed an item off the list on a dry erase board on the wall. "Why does this have to be a surprise party? Since Trunks already knows, and we've only had so long to plan it….." Bra whined while she hung up decorations.
Pan rolled her eyes and tuned her best friend out. Sometimes a person could only listen to so much.
A robot handed Pan a phone and she dialed her grandmother's number.
"Hello? Grandma? We're wondering if you could cook for Trunks' part…"
"PARTY????" Pan held the phone at arm length to protect her eardrums from Chichi's ecstatic yelling. "OF COURSE I'll COOK."
Pan pulled a puppy face and tried to hand the phone to Bulma. "Please? I can't take any more yelling today…."
Bulma pushed the phone away, "No way, jose."
"Bra?"
"Not on your life."
"Damn."
Chichi continued yelling into phone. Pan just hung up and handed the phone to a robot. "She won't notice that there's no one else on the line for at least five minutes." Pan crossed her fingers.
"So…." Bulma sent a slanty look at Pan over her waving hands, "What's going on with you and Trunks? Am I going to hear wedding bells and the pitter patter of little feet soon?"
Pan turned bright red, and the memory of the cold hard tile floor and Trunks' warm, solid body popped into her head. "According to Trunks, there's already been a wedding." She muttered, bowing her face to hide behind her thick curtain of long black hair.
Bra snorted and turned back to her crepe paper webs. "Tell us something we don't know," she grumbled.
"Well, if you're so interested, why don't you ask Trunks? He's the one who's REALLY having this relationship…."
The two women rolled their eyes simultaneously. "Don't sound so bitter." They glanced at each other, surprised. "Well, that was interesting…"
"Ah!!!"
Pan shook her head and retreated before the mother and daughter team revealed that they were long lost twins or something to that effect. Genetics should only go so far. …
"Umph!" Pan rubbed her forehead took a moment to notice that the carpet was supposed to be softer.
"Watch where you're going, woman." How hard did I HIT my head? Brick walls aren't supposed to talk…
"O, hello Vegeta." Pan looked up at the 'wall' she ran into. He smirked down at her from under a brooding widows peak.
"Hello, woman." He uncrossed one of his arms and silently offered her a hand up.
Pan took it immediately; after all, she wasn't one to pass up such a rare opportunity, especially not with her 'father-in-law'. Pan felt a little less at ease once she was standing up. There was very little of the soldier-like comadrie left in Vegeta's expression. Rather, he seemed to be pondering something pretty hard. If he was anyone else, Pan would have offered a penny for his thoughts, but this was VEGETA. "Um… yeah. Can I go now?"
Vegeta waved his hand in dismissal, "Yes, you're dismissed."
After Pan left, she had to stop and go back over the entire scenario. "Strange family…."
The air car parked smoothly on the cement drive. Pan slipped off the heavy leather sandals that were currently in style, and stepped out into the cold, slightly damp grass. She sank down and just looked at the house, thinking about all the lies and evasion tactics she'd used since 'the accident'.
"Please," She begged whoever was listening, "don't let it be like this forever."