A/N: See Chapter One for disclaimer, as always, thank you for the reviews. And, as it has been asked by a few people:
Where's Bra?": Umm… quite honestly, I just didn't write her in. I didn't simply forget about her, but when I designed the rough plot sketch for this fic, I thought it would be just too complicated to throw in another character to deal with. So, it's more my being lazy I suppose that there is a lack of Bra. But if you are a die-hard Bra fan and find it sacrilegious that she's not here, let's say she fell in love and married a handsome, lovely prince in some far off country and is living the good life.
Last Time: Trunks dreams of food, Pan hits Trunks with a broom, Trunks slaps Pan, (such a loving relationship…), Pan agrees to go the castle with Trunks (for a price, and in a few days), and Trunks tries (and fails) to steal a pie.
"Pan's Boyfriend"
"I have had it up to here with you, Trunks!" Pan hollered, one fist clenched to her side, the other stretched flat perpendicular to her forehead emphasizing her point, her eyes scrunched up, and her mouth wide to allow her voice more volume. Trunks stood in front of her, his weight shifted to one hip, arms folded, face expressionless. Although Pan's constant verbal war with him was rather amusing, he was loosing interest fast, seeing as it was becoming apparent she wasn't making him any food.
"And I, Pan, have had it up to here," he paused, mimicking the level of patience by the forehead, "of your constant lies!" he shouted back, not minding if he yelled, seeing as if anyone walked in, they would just think Pan was off her rocker which would cause some momentary additional amusement for him. Pan threw her arms in the air and sighed loudly and angrily.
"What have I lied about?!" she cried, exasperated. The prince hadn't even been with her for over an hour and he was already driving her insane. Trunks unfolded his arms and made a show of pointing towards the apples on the kitchen table.
"You promised me pie," he said. Pan let her jaw slip. He was making such an argument over pie?! She shook her head, mustering up her best glare and simply turned on her heel and left. The prince could be so incredibly arrogant.
Trunks winced as the front door slammed, and he was once again left pieless. He turned to the fruit bowl and grabbed a red apple before hoisting himself to sit on the table. What was that girl's problem? He was being overly reasonable towards her. He let the raven hair girl have gifts for going back to the castle, which they wouldn't be doing by her request for a few days, he gave her ample time enough to settle in and start that pie, he even dropped his first pie for her - but no. No, it was never enough for her. She shouldn't have any of those leniences. He was the prince, she was the peasant. He controlled her, well... he should in any case. But she was a rebel. Aggravated by his lack of control in the whole situation, Trunks went over in his mind what he could do. There wasn't much. He could simply turn on the cold temperament his father used so often, yet the annoying, playful one seemed to infuriate Pan so much he decided to stick with it. While at times he simply wanted to back hand her, if he kept his cool and kept snide remarks coming, the results were always better. Much more amusing.
Trunks stifled a yawn that worked its way up his throat, and with a start, realized how incredibly tired he really was. Sleeping in that hay pile wasn't the most comfortable place to have been sleeping. He could take a nap; it wasn't like he needed to be anywhere. But any thought of snoozing was shattered as a low rumble came from his stomach, and he was once again reminded of his hunger. His body demanded more than simple fruits and vegetables. It needed substance. Trunks have contemplated going after Pan and forcing her by any means to go and make him some food, but it simply wasn't worth it. He could go back to the main kitchen and try to steal another pie, but if he got caught again, he would get an earful from Pan. Better to just search around in the kitchen for something to eat. Trunks jumped off the table, and walked to the cupboards where he intended to grab some food, when the door opened again. He turned his gaze to the hallway and saw Pan, looking aggravated.
"I need to go out," she said, looking at him carefully, "I need to go into town, and... well, you can't do anything... I mean," she stumbled over her words before taking a pause to figure out exactly what she wanted to say. "I don't want you causing any trouble here, and I know you will, so..."
Trunks smirked. So. Pan didn't want him to be left alone on her property where she couldn't keep an eye on him. She trusted him so much. Trunks crossed his arms and leaned against the wall; waiting for her to ask what she wanted.
"So?" Trunks asked with an eyebrow raised in amusement. Pan clenched his jaw which made Trunks grin. It was so easy to infuriate Pan. It was like a game'-how quick can we make her mad?'. It was very entertaining.
"So!" Pan yelled. It was obvious that Trunks knew what she wanted.
"Oh, wait," Trunks feigned mock astonishment, "you, want me to go with you, don't you?" he asked, his hand on his chest; playing his role.
"No. I don't want you with me, but you're going to have to come along, because I can't trust you alone here."
"What could I possibly do?" Trunks asked, wanting to get her a bit more riled up, but he also wanted to know what she actually thought he would do.
"I don't even want to think about it," Pan said, her hands on her hips.
"Ya know," Trunks said, recrossing his arms, "I think you just want to hang around me. My looks are too gorgeous to leave alone."
"I think you're full of yourself," Pan muttered, turning to leave, Trunks following from behind.
*
"How long is this going to take?" Trunks complained, walking stride for stride alongside Pan through the forest. Pan stole a glance his way and sighed.
"A little walk won't kill you," Pan muttered.
"Are you saying I'm fat?" Trunks asked, in a tone that Pan wasn't sure if he was kidding or serious.
"I'm not saying your fat," she let out with another sigh.
"Ah, so you're saying I'm gorgeous," Trunks filled in, smirking. Pan shook her head and continued walking.
Trunks didn't see the point. What was the point of having a farm in the middle of nowhere? Why put it somewhere that was a good half hour walk from town?
The trees were canopied over head, causing only faint spots of sunlight to seep through to the ground. Light shadows played around amongst the trees, and rustles could be heard every so often. While they sent Trunks on edge, they seemed to have no effect on Pan. There was only a slight breeze that swept through the woods giving life to the otherwise heated forest.
Trunks took his eyes off the road and glanced towards Pan. Today her hair had been tied up on top of her head, leaving only a few misplaced strands to curl around her shoulders, which were covered with a light tan cloth. This tan dress was short-sleeved, showing off her toned arms - a complete disgrace for a lady... but Pan wasn't a lady anyway. Her dress went down to her ankles as dresses often do, and it made Trunks puzzle how women could walk in them without tripping. Despite the length, the material must be thin, because she showed no sigh of being overheated in the hot forest.
He took his eyes away almost as quickly as he had placed them, and gazed back at the road. They didn't stay there long before they had returned to Pan. He noticed her arms; casually swinging softly as she walked - they were empty.
"Don't you need a basket?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in question. Pan locked her dark eyes on Trunks without moving her head.
"A basket for what?" she asked, matching his questioning look.
"Aren't you shopping? I mean... for your errands," he explained.
"Why do you think I brought you along?"
"You keep forgetting I'm a prince."
"No I don't."
"A prince doesn't carry things for farm girls," Trunks replied, folding his arms, interested to see if he could get a rise out of her.
"And if you were a prince, I wouldn't make you," Pan commented under her breath, yet loud enough for him to hear.
"... I am a prince."
"Not one worth any mention."
"That was harsh."
"Thanks."
*
Vegeta sat drumming his fingers mindlessly on the arm of his throne. No one had bothered to ask him about anything - sensing his rotten mood. He was sick of it all. It was stupid. Very stupid. He simply wanted Bulma to get off her high horse and for his son to come home. Trunks... when he came back, he would have to teach him a lesson or two. The stupid boy. Everything was so stupid.
Bulma's stupid accusations that he didn't show any stupid love for her, his stupid son that ran off to who knows where, to do stupid things most likely, that stupid bell that rang stupidly every time someone would be entering his stupid presence... wait. No. His presence wasn't stupid... but whoever was coming sure was.
Aggravated, he glanced up to see who had entered in on his solitude. Somewhat relieved, he spotted it was only his trusted advisor, Koslin, and not some other idiot. Behind him lingered a woman, of whom he recognized as the girl he had engaged to Trunks.
"Your majesty," he greeted, his voice as screechy as ever, "Have you heard anything about the prince? His bride becomes worried." Vegeta, unaffected due to years of exposure by Koslin's otherwise screechy voice, gazed towards the female to the side. She did on fact appear to be worried. That would not do. He didn't want to set his only son up with a worry-wart - perhaps he would have to find another girl. But that didn't matter. All Koslin wanted to know was the location of the prince.
"You speak as if I go out of my way to keep track of the delinquent," Vegeta spoke, interest in the conversation long gone. But honestly, why would Koslin even think to ask him? He had no idea of where Trunks was, and if someone were to find out, Koslin would no doubt hear it before him. But there wasn't even a clue to go by in his son's disappearance. No one had a heard a word from him since the day before yesterday... no. Bulma had heard him yesterday, she had claimed he had spoken with her. Vegeta didn't know what to make of that. As a whole, Bulma didn't prance around making up idiocy stories, yet it was unlikely that she heard Trunks but failed to see him. Unless he were a ghost... which would make him dead, and if that were true, he was sure Trunks would have had the courtesy to speak up, 'alrighty, bye mom, oh, wait, by the way, I'm dead, see ya,' or something along those lines. Yet he didn't. No, his son was not dead.
But he would be when he got home.
*
"So, what are these mysterious 'errands' of yours any ways?" Trunks asked, growing bored with the silent walking through the forest.
"I have to attend a meeting," Pan replied. Trunks tilted his head, turning to look at her and raised an eyebrow curiously.
"You have meetings?" he asked, smiling as a parent would to a child who made an odd statement.
"Yeah... why do you ask like that?"
"Well, I mean, what would you talk about? Farmer Bob's cattle ran off again. Let's all get together to track it down. I mean, really. We have meetings at home. We discuss matters of the country. What could you possibly discuss?" Trunks asked, both walking slightly quicker upon exiting the forest. They were now in the town itself, walking through the semi-crowded streets.
Trunks was swerving in and about the passing people, trying desperately not to be hit by anyone. Surely questions would be aroused if someone walked into someone else who wasn't there. Pan seemed oblivious of his troubles, and walked briskly and confidently just ahead of him. It was obvious she knew exactly where she was going.
She stopped outside of a rather dusty building, and opened the creaking wooden door without a knock. Trunks scanned the outside appearance of the structure with skeptic blue eyes. Had he been in any normal circumstance, he would not be caught inside such a place, even in death, but he doubted he had much if a choice whether to follow or resist Pan.
She only threw back the slightest of glances at him before walking in. The room was surprisingly well lit - open windows from the back let both light in as well as a refreshing breeze. The room was unnaturally empty save for a long, well-scrubbed table which was in between rows of stools. A wide assortment of people were already sitting down at the table, all of whom glanced up at Pan as she entered, though only a few held their gaze after discovering who the intruder was.
One of these people was a well-stalked man, his elbows resting on the table, his dark eyes following Pan's every movement. One hand was rubbing his short beard, giving him a 'pondering' look, while the other drummed its fingers on the table's surface.
Another person whose gaze remained on Pan looked much younger. Unlike the previous man's, the second's dark eyes were kind and gentle. His clean-shaven face was set in a smile, and he ran a hand through messy black hair before rising to his feet.
It was to this man that Pan greeted immediately.
"Goten," she said, her voice carrying a comfortable tone that Trunks had never heard before. The man greeted here with a strong hug before pulling out a stool beside him. His hand lay gently on her arm and they began talking.
It was obvious to Trunks that they knew each other. Perhaps very well. Since Pan had not directed him to sit in a specific place, he chose to lean against the wall directly behind Pan and this Goten.
"So, how's my little Panny been doing?" he asked with a wide grin. Trunks frowned. He even had a pet name for Pan. Who was this man? Trunks tilted his head to the side in thought, wisps of lavender hair spilling over his forehead.
"I'm alright. Dealing with life as it comes at me," she replied, matching his grin, and casting a slight glance to where Trunks stood. Trunks narrowed his eyes in further thought, only-half listening while the two held a conversation, Goten speaking animatedly, and Pan replying, still casting glances back at him.
Did Pan want him to notice she was close with this Goten? Why? To make him jealous? That was absurd. As if he, the prince, would be jealous over some peasant's boyfriend. A boyfriend of Pan no less. That would imply that he felt something for Pan, which he most certainly did not. Well... maybe he did. It was hard not to feel something towards Pan. Resentment, pity and angry all came to his mind.
Trunks folded his arms and allowed a scowl to cross his face. He wasn't going to let some peasant couple infuriate him. Pan meant nothing to him except a ticket back to his cushioned throne seat. And once he was back, he would never think about her again. He would forget the spirited young farmer's daughter, and her bossy attitude and stubbornness that reviled his own. He would forget the pout she made when she was angry, he would forget her deep eyes, he would forget...
And if he didn't naturally, he would beat himself to.
Trunks gently shook himself out of his thoughts, as the conversation turned towards his direction.
"I heard you went up to speak to the King about the old farm," Goten said, all light talk and smiles gone. He looked intently at Pan who gave a small shrug and tilted her head.
"Yeah. I met with his son," she replied.
"The prince?"
"... no, the kitchen boy. Of course the prince," she said, laughing and throwing a mock slap at his shoulder.
"...And?"
"Well, it's not official yet, but he said he could keep his father's hands off it."
"Really? Wow, I suppose the prince isn't as pig-headed as I thought," he commented, which Pan met with a light snort. Trunks clenched his jaw, and abandoned his spot against the wall, to get closer to the conversation. He stood close to Goten, and was met with a glare from Pan.
"But really, Pan," Goten continued, "how did you get him to give up their want on our land?" He paused before his face melted into a look of being scandalized. "Pan, you didn't?!" Pan blinked in confusion.
"Didn't what?"
"You slept with him to get a bit of land?!"
"Eie! Goten, shut up!" Pan shrieked in a whisper. Trunks smirked at seeing Pan so flustered, also that her boyfriend would be so upset at the thought. But did the idea of sleeping with him really make her so embarrassed? Her face was a hot red, and she shot Trunks a look of warning, that clearly said along the lines of 'you ever repeat, I will kill you'.
"Of course I didn't sleep with him," Pan whispered.
"No, I suppose you'd never do that anyway," he replied in a quieted down tone. He rocked gently back in his chair. "Just as well anyway. Wouldn't want to waste your first on some royal pansy who probably can't even put ou- ahh!" Goten cried, stumbling foreword, his forehead connecting with the wooden table. Trunks deepened his smirk and drew his hand back to his side.
Goten sat up quickly and looked behind him to see who had pushed him. He saw no one.
But what Goten couldn't see, Pan could, and red half with embarrassment, half with anger, she grabbed Trunks' arm and dragged him to her side.
"Um, got to go Goten... just tell them our farm is fine, hope your head's okay," she mumbled quickly, marching quickly out of the room, leaving a confused Goten rubbing his sore forehead.
Only once Pan and Trunks were at the start of the forest did she turn to speak to him.
"I can't believe you did that!" she hollered at him. "You can't just go hitting people behind their backs. That's low, even for princes." Trunks shrugged.
"He was insulting me."
"Get used to it," she muttered, marching stiffly ahead on the road. "Because of you I couldn't stay for the meeting. I'm part of the town, I should be there for those. But nooo, I have to be here with you, because you're too much of a child to behave in public."
"Excuse me? I act like a child? You were the one that dragged me along to watch you drool over your boy toy in there." Pan stopped abruptly and stared at him. Trunks smiled to himself, sure he had struck a tense subject.
"I was not drooling," she replied.
"You were certainly all over him. Only talking to him, you wouldn't even give the other boys in there a chance."
"What boys?"
"There was one in there staring at you in the whole time. See? You're so absorbed in this Goten that you don't even notice other people. Next time you want to flirt with someone, warn me so I can vacate the premises," Trunks lectured out, eyes closed, and index finger up, imitating his father's advisors. He opened his eyes to see her reaction, and was surprised to see her giggling.
"You are so out of it," she replied, walking on.
"Nice comeback," Trunks retorted, catching up. Pan laughed, and turned to face him.
"Trunks, he is not my boyfriend, nor do I have any attention of him being so."
"He may have different intentions."
"I can guarantee you he doesn't."
"Oh yeah? Give me one reason."
"I'm his niece," she said with a grin, before half-skipping up the path. Trunks stared blankly at the spot she had once stood before running to catch up to her.
"He's your uncle?" he asked. Thinking back, they did look similar...
"Sure is," she replied, laughter still ringing in her voice.
"You could have told me sooner," he retorted, arms crossed.
"And interrupted your 'I'm making an ass out of myself' speech. No thanks."
"You are the most obnoxious, ignorant-"
"Yeah, yeah, I love you, too."
*
Trunks sighed quietly to himself, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. His elbows were placed on the table, for the first time glad he was away from the castle, avoiding his mother's 'don't put your elbows on the table - it's rude' lecture. A strand of lavender hair had slipped from behind his ear and was hanging annoyingly between his eyes, the tip brushing his nose. Had he the energy, he would have dealt with the hair problem, but he didn't feel up to swatting the strand away.
Pan had said she was upset at the way he had treated her uncle and had refused to make him anything to eat. He hadn't really done anything bad to the guy... a little whack on the head never killed anyone. But Pan wouldn't budge, however she also wouldn't let him go into the kitchens again. She had not wanted a reply of 'Trunks the pie-stealing ghost' routine.
Munching on apples, bread and some nuts he found in Pan's kitchen had sustained him for most of the afternoon, but the sun was making its way below the horizon, and he was so very hungry. Hungry for what his stomach had been groaning for ever since he had first smelt it that morning.
Apple pie.
With much whining and complaining, and a lovely speech on why Pan was a liar, she had given in and stole some materials from the main kitchens.
He could now smell the sweet apples cooking in the oven, and with another sigh, he wished his nose would die so he wouldn't be put through the sweet torture of waiting. Trunks had never realized how long it took to make one of those blasted pies. Usually he could get a slice by calling a servant girl over, and ordering one. A warm slice would be in front of him in minutes.
But watching Pan move around the kitchen, throwing powders here, and spices there, it was more of an eye-opener that perhaps not all foods grew on trees. ... not that he ever truly thought they did.
Though he rather liked the idea of a Pie Tree.
Finally, the hair bugging him to a point of sever annoyance, he moved his cheek from his palm, freeing his hand to tuck the strand behind his ear once more. Replacing his cheek in his palm, he turned his glance over to Pan.
"How much longer?" he half-whined at her. She replied by rolling her eyes. Trunks managed a half-smile which quickly disappeared at that. This had been his second real day at being invisible. It hadn't been too bad, except perhaps the rude awakening that morning, the lack of pie, the boyfriend/uncle mix up... but at least no rodents were stealing his food today.
Or they had better not...
He cast a quick glance around the room to see if there were any ways any stray creatures could lurk inside and steal his pie. The window was open, but Pan was right by there, and surely she would protect the pie. Pan struck him as someone who didn't let anyone mess with her work.
A clatter from the counter knocked him out of his Pie-stealing Chipmunk theories, and he turned to see a bowl on the floor, some contents on the floor. Pan cursed lightly, and set to cleaning it up.
"Tsk tsk," he murmured at her. "Not very lady-like language skills." She scowled up at him, her ebony hair spilling over her shoulders as she moved.
"Don't give me lessons of etiquette. I'm not the one with my elbows on the table," she replied hotly, standing up with the bowl and the dirty cloth in hand. Trunks returned the scowl, but slid his elbows obediently off the table.
Trunks leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his pie, but couldn't quite see it in the fire oven, because Pan was standing in the way. He turned his line of vision towards her and drummed his fingers softly on the table.
Her hair was a mess around her shoulders, but the style certainly had a certain charm to it. She had abandoned some of her outer clothing as the day drew to a close, and now only sported a simple dress. Trunks once again marveled at the peculiar simple beauty she possessed. It was a pity she didn't have a personality to match it. While the ladies at court were all soft-spoken and held pretty smiles, all Pan seemed to want to do was boss people around and throw insults at people. While this did make for fun conversation, it wasn't the most dignified role a woman should have.
He wondered briefly if all peasant girls were like Pan, and there was an entire class of women that acted differently then the ones he knew, or if Pan was simply a class of her own.
Something told him it was the latter.
"Okay, your highness," came Pan's drawling, sarcastic voice, bringing Trunks out of his thoughts, "your pie i--is," she drew out, carrying a hot pan in layers of cloth, setting it delicately in front of him, "done." She placed her hands on her hips and gazed down on it as if she were particularly proud of the pastry.
"Finally," Trunks murmured, grabbing his fork and making a dive for it. Pan swatted his hand away. Trunks had a mad urge to stab the fork at Pan - she was depriving him of his pie, again!
"It's hot still, you should let it cool or you'll burn your tongue," she said. Trunks blinked up at her and nodded dumbly.
"I didn't know you cared," he replied as an afterthought.
"I don't," Pan retorted automatically. She turned and walked to the door, opening it to step out. "I'm just making some rounds, I'll be back soon. I want to make sure we don't have any other invisible princes sleeping in our barns."
Trunks smiled softly at Pan standing in the doorway. The steam from the pie was warming his face, and making his stomach crave it all the more. His blue eyes met with her dark ones.
She held his gaze, a second longer than was normal, and walked outside, closing the door, closing Trunks away from the world that could not see him.
His own gaze remained fixed on the door, his pie slowly cooling.
---
This chapter took longer to get done than I would have liked, and I apologize. Hope it was fine just the same.
-Angel Eevee