Author's Notes: . . . wow. I really chucked this sucker out quickly, didn't I? ^_^ It just so happened one night that I had a burst of creativity and completely planned out exactly (I had a vague idea before) what I wanted for the rest of the story, so it's easier now for me to just write and not have to pause and think. ^_^;; There's going to be a total of eleven chapters to this story, this being the ninth, so after this I'm afraid we only have two more to go! I can't believe it – I mean, this would be the first chapter story I've ever finished! *sweatdrop* All of my others I lost interest in or were just too long for me to keep at them . . . but I love these two characters so much. *hugs them*

I'm afraid that I'm rushing it though. It didn't seem to me that I was at the time; but reading over it, I'm like: ". . . ummm?" But personally I just thought it was too cute to erase and do over. -_-;; Which takes me to my next point! So far there's been a lot more drama than romance, but after the halfway point in this chapter, the drama begins to slide back into the background some. It'll appear again later on, but for now we got some cuteness. Not quite shounen-ai cuteness yet, but definitely cuteness. ^_^ There's also probably a lot of typos, too; please tell me if you see them. -_-;;

As for all of those who wanted to maul me for the last chapter's cliffhanger (eheh? ^^;), I got this out quicker than usual and also because of my sudden creativity. And there's not quite as much of one at this chapter's end, so you can be content for a while if chappy ten takes me a good few weeks, right? Right? Because it might. I wanna try to make it one of the better ones. ^_^!!

Hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for all the support! ^_^

Pairing: Mirai Juunana/Mirai Trunks, shounen-ai

"All You Have"

~chapter nine~

by: Rosalyn Angel

I grunted as my back harshly collided with the wall, snapping my head against it with a resonating crack. I remember briefly thinking "ow" as I slid down to slump on the carpeted floor, but I was a little out of it at the time, so I can't really tell you for sure.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" I heard your enraged shout as you stood by the side of the disheveled bed, lavender hair tousled and clothes wrinkled from sleep. Apparently mornings didn't dampen your mood much, 'cause you seemed readily pissed off.

So much for waking up before you to move, I thought. Whatever happened to my survival instincts?

I groaned, holding my head, and shakily stood. You had tossed me away pretty well. I bet there was at least a dent in the wall. It hadn't a fighting toss, though; it had been a surprised, frantic, get-the-hell-away-from-me toss. If it had been the previous, no doubt I would have made more than just a dent.

"Whatever," I said, my brain still a little jarred. "You were warm, so my body goes to the warmth. It's not like I intentionally snuggled."

I took a moment to glance at the window. Well no wonder I didn't wake before you; the sun still had to rise. The night was thick with predawn and I could almost smell the morning dew on the grass. If you had stayed asleep for just a few more minutes, the situation would never have happened. It was your fault. That's childish, I know, but I think I regressed some when I promptly got my head smacked against the plaster.

Your eyes almost seemed to glow. Ah, this rage again. I knew this seething anger well, burning in your eyes as your fists clenched together and your face scowled. The beautiful anger from before, in your eyes again, visible even in the dim of the room. I was suddenly confident again in my decision of not killing you much earlier; you wouldn't disappoint my entertainment, I knew. And I wouldn't disappoint you: I made your life interesting: I made it worth living.

That was pretty smug after just getting my ass handed to me, but it was the truth as I saw it.

"Is that all you're going to say?" you said with a low growl, apparently not agreeing with my answer.

For a moment I laughed, but I choked it down and leaned back against the wall. I didn't want to wobble from dizziness. "You make it sound as though you would listen if I did."

There was a snort, and I amused myself by watching a wisp of lavender hair wave from the said sound. "I'm sleeping alone from now on–"

I opened my mouth to protest about the blankets, but you continued:

"–and you keep the covers. I don't care. Just... just don't touch me."

My mouth closed the precise second you walked by to exit into the hall. Well, that solved that problem. Now I had an entire bed of blankets for myself, and I could sprawl out to my leisure without the worry of being maimed. Shrugging and guessing I could sleep in some more, as you would do (I had always reluctantly moved to my own room after waking up at dawn, in order to doze more), I sauntered over to your bed and plopped face down onto it, relishing in the comforter and–

I paused. The pillows smelled like lilacs. My eyebrow twitched of its own accord.

Suddenly the bed seemed too large for just me.

I must have spent only a few minutes staring at the white ceiling, tangled comfortably in the blankets, because Mr. Sun decided to beam through the window brightly and hit me smack dab in my retina. I might have hissed, but I don't consider myself that nocturnal. Still I flung the covers over my head with a groan, my limbs haphazardly flopped across the mattress.

You just had to wake up right before dawn. Usually by now I would already be in the safety of my own bed, though not as warm, and dreaming of stupid things: like killing cute little fuzzy creatures and putting itching powder down my sister's front. Just a few more minutes I needed for my internal alarm to ring... but no. You had to wake up.

Was I cynical? No. Just grumpy; my head hurt. Wouldn't you be grumpy if your head hurt? Well I–

Score another for me: I really got off-topic there.

I gave a frown and flipped down the covers; there was no use trying to sleep anymore that day. I was also kinda curious as to where you chose to lie down. Not my bed, that was sure, so I guessed the couch.

Straightening my hair and clothes as much as they could be, I sauntered to the living room. The couch's back greeted me and when I saw nothing over it, I assumed you were lying down. Surely you weren't insane enough to stay up. I knew you could easily fall asleep wherever you wanted. I mean, I found you on your lawn one time.

I crept, nearly on my tip-toes, across the short space between the bedroom hallway and the wider area of the living room to where the couch was at. When I reached it, I held onto its fluffy back and hunched over to peer down. Yep. You were there, curled on your side, face buried into the pillows and holding your arms, which were for once bare of your jacket. You had that black thing on though – and the bandages were missing, since you had long since healed from the fight against Cell.

And you were cold. It didn't take a genius to know that: you wedged yourself as far into the couch as you could. I mused that you would fall into the crack and forever be lost in dust and missing quarters, but I snapped myself back to reality when I realized that my grumpy mood had deserted me the moment I saw you.

I couldn't stay angry at you. I used to hate you, now I couldn't stay even mad – everything was normal and feeling right and as easy as things could be. That snake of hatred squeezing me from the inside out melted away and released me. I supposed it was a sibling thing: I could taunt you ruthlessly and laugh at how pitiful you were, but I couldn't stay mad for long, no matter what you did. It had been the same with Juuhachi.

I blinked, looking down upon your slumbering face, so much more relaxed, the worry lines smoothed out from your forehead. I remember seeing my sister asleep once and she didn't look nearly as annoying as she did when awake. I guess you were kind of the same like that, but not annoying either way.

It registered in my head that I was beginning to think of you more and more as my twin as the days went by, yet I still treated you as... you. There wasn't any bad in that, I suppose, but at the time it made me feel like I was trying to ignore and push down those new emotions. I mean, I certainly wasn't afraid of them; I could handle them. So why had I been mulling over them yet not doing anything like they didn't exist? I wasn't some immature human who needed to lock them away. I said I could be better than a human, so that meant I had to bring them up to the surface more. Just a little more. I wasn't about to handle all of them at once.

I laid my arms across the back of the couch, raising an eyebrow. Twin, huh? So that meant I might as well have to start treating you more like one.

That included the pranks, too.

I stayed there for a while, my chin in my arms, looking down at you in a detached sort of way. I thought about how my pranks on sis usually had two different outcomes: complete and utter rage or a small smirk. Considering where you currently stood with me, I wasn't ready to risk the former. But a good simple prank sent my mind humming with old excitement. It had been an entertaining past time, and now it could be an entertaining present time, especially with a new subject.

I was about to happily stroll off, plotting what I could do, when I caught you shiver out of the corner of my eye. I paused suddenly, my hands in my pockets. Sis and I used to watch each other's backs when fighting, though we had never really needed extra protection. That didn't mean we took care of each other, far from it; it had always been a more subtle thing...

You woke up later to find a thin blanket draped across your form.

... I hadn't needed it anyway.

******

Still he is kneeling in the snow, his arms wrapped around himself, the night black and starless from covering clouds. The snowflakes fall from the void of a sky, and he feels them all with chilling clarity. His shoulders begin to shake; if someone is to walk by, they may suspect he is weeping. But inside the curtain of his hair, he is laughing.

******

When we crossed paths later that day, you glanced at me warily then turned your eyes to the floor. I grinned cheekily, then continued to occupy the couch you had left alone. The blanket was still there, so I took the opportunity to wrap it around my shoulders and sit cocooned. Autumn was wearing on and slowly the air grew colder. Great.

I heard you curse behind me. It surprised me that you were still there after I had passed you by; but your footsteps soon leading in the opposite direction told me that you had decided to go. Now alone, I voted to turn on the radio in hopes that they had gotten new casters – and lo and behold, there was no static and a song blared through. Gee, this day was turning out good. Except for my headache earlier, but I was trying to banish that memory.

I crossed my legs and was content for the moment. There were a lot of guitars in this song, and a lot of screaming. I wondered if you thought whether they had fixed the radio stations at all or if it was just "that racket" playing again. Well, I happen to like said racket, so you had to live with it. I'm sure it was more tolerable than I.

You walked by, this time with your jacket on (now with sleeves; I assumed you had two pairs) and a visible scowl. I could have sworn you were seriously considering chucking the electronic out the window that time, having it back to grind your nerves after a long period of being racket-free. But you didn't voice your opinion and instead continued on into the kitchen, probably to fix your breakfast. When the noises of pots and pans confirmed that, my mouth began to water: bacon. I knew you had it. I knew you liked it; and so did I. Very convenient for me, don't you say?

I must have looked like a perched hawk on the couch, poised and ready for its kill – or rather, its steal. I would wait for the precise moment: when you were in your room writing in your journal and counting the minutes until your breakfast would be done. It didn't take long; you didn't cook much. You had to keep it well rationed.

I heard a sizzling sound and knew it to be true: bacon there was, and (I sniffed the air) something else. Again I knew you wouldn't fix any for me, so I would have to sneak in my bite.

The plan proceeded as normal. You left for your room and I waited a few minutes until I crept into the kitchen now filled with the saliva-creating aroma of cooking meat. I spied the stove and the pans on top of it, then walked over to be hit by the sudden wavering heat from it. The kitchen had the door (and the patched-up hole) leading to the outside, so the heat was welcomed enough. The bacon and eggs sizzling were even more a welcome.

I took a good whiff and, by the smell, concluded they would soon be ready. In fact to me they were, simply because I was impatient. They seemed the right enough color. Nodding and pleased I took the fork thing you used to pick them up, and, grabbing a plate, took a generous share.

As I sat down, my plate and utensils before me, I tilted my head like a dog. I stared at the food on my plate as my imagination wildly began to work; then I thought I could use this for my first prank, simple and easy and surely not to anger you. This was my moment to begin your twin treatment and deal with myself. It meant sacrificing my food though, but there was always next morning.

Besides, I had yet to see you grin; the curiosity was killing me and undoubtably would, if you didn't first.

When you came back, I was sitting on the couch again. You took a moment to glare, wondering if I had stolen your food once more, then went into the kitchen. I darted from my place and hid behind the doorframe, peeking around to see your initial reaction.

Standing in front of the table, you were owlishly blinking down at the plate. On it were the bacon and eggs arranged to make a smily face.

And the corners of your mouth tugged up in the beginnings of your own.

It hadn't been quite what I was looking for, but it had been better than what I was expecting. By the time you had glanced over to me, I was cocooned in the blanket and listening to the radio; the barely-there smile vanished and was replaced with your normal grim expression.

The weeks passed surprisingly quietly. I had made it my new goal and hobby to quench my curiosity. With every chance, I did something subtle and then act like I wasn't paying attention while you observed whatever spectacle I had devised. I made sure it wasn't anything drastic or insulting; I had come so far without being killed, so I wasn't going to start now.

I can't remember all the little things, but there is one that stood out. I went into your room when you were getting more food supplies (and also materials to brick up and plaster the hole, which was accomplished just a few days before winter came full-blast), and found a blank page among the rest on the desk. Snatching your black pen, I held the cap end to my chin and looked up to muse. I decided to stay simple since I didn't feel too witty, wrote in as large of letters as possible, then stuck it right in the middle of your desk where you would for sure see it.

I never got the chance to see your reaction to the big "HI," but you didn't tell me not to go into your room, so I took it as a good sign.

We still didn't talk much. But your attitude ever-so slowly changed. Instead of a brief scowl in my direction, it began to look more thoughtful.

And during meals, I noticed you began to cook a little more than what you did for yourself. I knew the economy hadn't rapidly improved; so I assumed that you were actually acknowledging my presence a little, or just got annoyed that I always took half of your normal share. It made me smug to think the former though. We never ate together either; I'm sure you'd find that too awkward even now. I merely took my food and left without a glance. I felt your eyes on my back for a few moments though, before you forced them to your plate.

I went back to sleeping in my own bed, pleased that the draft had gone away. You used yours, and that morning incident was pushed back into our minds. Though whenever I brushed unintentionally close, you got tense and seemed wary.

Later, when winter was beginning to freeze the air much to my dismay, you went out again. I took this time to go to your room, which you hadn't bother to lock for a long time now (I hadn't stolen anything; I guess you supposed it was safe not to), and snooped through your journal papers. I was curious to your thoughts on the recent interactions, or lack thereof (side note: you still hadn't smiled as fully as the ten-year-old version of you did in that photo), and I wanted to know if I was handling the emotions well enough. Also it was hard sneaking around to see your reactions since your senses were sharp, but it was still a welcome challenge, just a cumbersome one.

I found one paper recently enough dated and plopped down in the wooden chair with the white piece in hand. Slouching back and crossing my ankles on the desk, I scanned my ice blue eyes over it.

"I wish mother or Gohan were still here," it said. "I'm a little confused. I don't understand why he's acting like this. It's kind of like... having an irritating little brother. But he's an android; all he wants is to kill people. But he hasn't done that for so long and has made no attempts to escape – if I didn't know better... I would suspect he was turning human."

I still don't know how to respond to that.

~end of chapter nine~