A/N: I've just gotten a new laptop, a new PC laptop. I was running on an ancient iMAC before that, so if there's anything seriously wrong with this it's because I'm still anewbie when it comes to this whole PC thing.

Standard Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, the plot does.

Rated M for Language and Mature Themes.

4. Week 6: I Need You

She gripped the edge of the sink, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The nausea had passed but her stomach still rolled with the aftermath of it. Her eyes slid open, glazed and unfocused as she stared at her pale reflection in the mirror.

Her hair was disheveled around her pale face, her skin clammy and her pupils dilated. All in all, Pan concluded, she looked like shit.

With one last shudder, she turned away from her reflection and exited the bathroom on rubbery legs. The gray light of dawn cast a ghoulish glow over the empty bedroom, and wrapping her arms around herself, Pan walked toward the closet and pulled out a robe. She bundled herself into the thick terry cloth and looked longingly toward the bed.

It was just past five a.m. and she wasn't going to fall back to sleep, she never could after being ill.

With a sigh she turned away from the bed and took a step toward the door. Her stomach jumped into her throat again when her gaze fell upon the figure in the doorway. She simply stared at him for a moment, fighting back the nausea that was turning in her stomach once again.

"You look ill," he said, and pushed himself off the doorjamb and entered the room. He stopped her heart, even in the pale light. The shadow of a beard and the gleam in his eye made him look dangerous, and his stance radiated authority. He was here for a fight, she could tell, and she wasn't in the mood for one. Her stomach was still reeling from his surprise appearance.

"I'm fine," she said, but it was weak and her voice cracked as she spoke. Pan looked away, embarrassed, and fumbled for her dignity. She swallowed hard and looked back at him. "I'm fine," she said again. This time her tone was firm, but her voice was still scratchy.

He took another step forward, studying her, and Pan had to fight the urge to retreat backward. "Have you been sick?" He asked, and surprised her by reaching out to cup her cheek. His hand was warm and she had to restrain herself from turning into him. He brushed a thumb over the dark circles under her eye and she pulled away, doing her best to glare at him.

"I'm fine," she repeated for the third time, and feeling she had no where to go, took a step back.

Trunks fisted his hand at his side, feeling the tug of pity in his gut. Her skin had been clammy, her eyes lacked the fire that always seemed to be smoldering there, and she looked drastically ill. He wanted to bundle her in to bed and hold her until she slept, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"I thought you were supposed to be gone for another two weeks," Pan said, her voice holding more bite then it had previously. She turned away from him and contented herself with staring out the window and into the murky dawn.

"I was," he said and stepped up to her, his body bumping her own. She slanted a glance at him, but he didn't smile as he saw annoyance flare in her eyes. "But I didn't think I needed it, that we needed."

"Did you ever think that maybe I needed it?" she asked. It was meant to insult, he knew and was glad she was showing some spunk.

"No, I don't think you needed it," he said evenly. "I think you missed me."

That did it. She turned on him, eyes spitting fire as she shoved her hands into his chest. It barely budged him, so she attacked with words.

"You arrogant bastard!" she growled, punching a fist into his chest with renewed strength. His brow furrowed but he didn't stop her. "I didn't fucking miss you, I was glad to get away from your conceited ass. It was great, not having to listen to you bitch about your work and how horrible I am at being your Goddamn wife!"

She was screaming at him, but he had stopped hearing her after the first insult. The thick robe was slipping off her right shoulder, exposing her sleek collarbone and a piece of her naked shoulder. That sweet little mouth was spewing curses like a sewer does sludge, and her hair was disheveled around her enraged face.

It was enough to make the violent need to take her erupt inside of him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into the wall, covering her mouth his own.

She didn't fight him, like he had expected her to, but arched into his embrace, threading her fingers through his short hair and tugging roughly.

The kiss was rough and hot as they struggled to take everything and more. Hands groped, lips seared, and bodies grew hot.

"OK, so maybe I missed you a bit," Pan gasped out as Trunks pulled away, undoing the knot at her waist. He brushed the flimsy undershirt aside and spread his fingers over her skin. His mouth trailed along her jaw, down to her neck where he breathed her scent and pulled her more securely against him.

She moaned at the exotic feeling of his beard scraping over her skin. Her body arched, offered, and his mouth took. His lips trailed across the low cut of her shirt as his hands splayed over her back, trying to touch as much of her as possible. But it still wasn't enough.

Jerking the robe from her shoulders he let it fall where they were. Lifting Pan easily off of her feet, he staggered to the bed and fell onto it with her on top of him. Her mouth crashed down on his as her body heated beneath his touch. Her lips were possessive, starving as she struggled to taste him.

He sat up and pulled her shirt over her head, flung it aside, and filled his hands with her breasts. Her head fell back as the moaned poured over her lips. His head bent and he tasted her, relished in the way she writhed against him, dug her short nails into his hair in an effort to grasp some shred of control.

But it was futile. Her lips pressed against the crown of his head and she breathed against his hair: "More." And he gave it to her, flipping them over he tore away her underwear, found her already wet and ready for him. She came fast and hard against his hand, nails biting through his shirt at the shoulders.

"I need you," she breathed against his ear, her voice husky. It fed his desire, to know he could make her want him, make her need him. She rarely showed weakness, even to her husband. And it turned him on to know he could make a strong woman beg.

"I know," he whispered against her lips as she dragged his shirt over his head, tossed it aside. Her hands were at his hips next, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. She yanked them down and he shifted to kick them away.

He moaned as her fingers closed around him, hot and tight. He struggled against collapsing into her as she pumped him. "I love you," she whispered against his ear and took him inside of her.

He rolled them over as she spasmed around him, accommodating to the invasion of his body into her own. He'd give her this, he thought hazily as she began to move, pleasuring her body with his own.. He'd give her control, let her set the pace and ride.

He rested his head against the pillow, spreading his hands onto her hips as they flexed in a rhythm that he would never grow tired of. He watched as she threaded her hands through her hair and let her head loll back as she moaned, low and sultry. He felt her pace quicken, pinned his eyes on her hips for a moment and watched her rise and fall upon him. The look of her was enough to have him choking back his orgasm.

He planted his gaze on her face; her mouth partly open and her eyes closed as the waves of pleasure cascaded over her features, flushed her cheeks in the pale light of the gray morning. Those cat-like eyes opened and met his gaze as he felt her body tense. Her eyes glazed over as a whimper of surrender passed her lips and she arched back, bringing her body down on his one final time.

He felt her orgasm coat him, fist around him, and he moaned as he felt himself empty inside of her.

---

He grasped her waist as she collapsed onto him with a groan of content. He smiled and breathed in the scent of her hair before running a hand through it. "Do you know how amazing you look when you ride me like that?" It was more of a statement then a question, but Pan shifted her lips to his ear.

"Mm. You just like looking at my tits," she responded playfully. He chuckled, shifting and wrapping an arm around her. She lifted her head and looked down at him through lidded eyes. "Does this mean we're OK now?" she asked, her voice no longer playful.

He drew a deep breath and studied her face for a moment. Those cat-eyes gleamed down at him, waiting for a response. Her cheeks were flushed from sex and her firm mouth was swollen and red from kissing. Beautiful wasn't the word, it was too feminine for his Pan. Sexy, was more appropriate. Their children would be beautiful.

Trunks wet his lips and sighed. "No, Pan, we're not OK."

He watched her eyes darken, her brow furrow, and her mouth turn down in a pout. It was a childish look he had seen countless times. It was what he had expected, of course. She had figured their problems had been resolved with the sex.

Before she could protest he rolled them over so that he was pressing her into the mattress. He saw the uncertainty in the line of her brows, the question stirring in her eyes. "I want children, Pan," he said flatly, deciding it was best to get to the point, give time her to hammer insults at him before he had to go to work.

He watched the shock register in her eyes, her mouth gaped. "I–How did you–"

"Let me finish for once, please," he cut her off, pressing her arms to her body with his own incase she decided she wanted to claw at him before he was done. "I'm not getting any younger, Pan. You accepted our age difference when you married me, and I want to start a family." He took a deep breath, preparing to drop the bomb. "But I'm not sure if you're ready for it. Things would need to change if we were to have a child."

He saw the shock diminish to anger in less than a second. "What things, exactly, are you talking about." There was a chill in her voice, nearly making him shiver.

"You know what I'm talking about, Pan," he shifted a bit, could feel the tension in her body. "The partying, the half-assed housekeeping, coming home at all hours, just your immature attitude toward the world in general. You're not living the life of a mother, Pan, you're barely living the life of a wife."

He let that settle, watched the anger smolder in her eyes, watched as she tried to control the twitch in her jaw. Then the world erupted.

She shoved him with all her might, and as it was unexpected, Trunks fell unceremoniously onto the floor. He had to blink several times before he could register what was happening.

"You bastard. You fucking son of a bitch!" She turned on him, robe in hand, with eyes hotter than Hell. "You have the nerve to insult me like that after you make love to me? You're an arrogant bastard Trunks Briefs, and if I'm such a fucking baby then we'll get a Goddamn divorce so you can marry come tight-assed housewife" With a final snarl she threw the robe around her shoulders and slammed into the bathroom.

Trunks simply gaped after her for a moment, unable to comprehend the unexpected reaction Pan had had to his confession. She was suppose to be offended, yes, but she wasn't suppose to be thinking about divorcing him. He had underestimated his wife once again and had firmly lodged his foot in his mouth. It was quiet, which was unusual as well, as Pan was more inclined to smash anything in sight when she was in a state such as this.

He pulled himself to his feet, snagged his pants and hitched them on, more concerned with extracting his foot from his mouth than buttoning them. He padded to the bathroom door and pressed his ear against it. Hearing nothing he tried the knob and found the door locked.

"Pan," he said firmly, but kept his tone gentle. She didn't respond, so he leaned back and threw his shoulder into the door. It opened and slammed against the wall of the bathroom with a crack. "We're not finished, Pan. Now tell me what made you think–"

The words froze on his tongue when he saw Pan leaning on the bathroom counter, face in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking and Trunks knew immediately that she was crying. Basic male instinct clouded his judgement for a moment and he found himself wanting to retreat. But he quickly pushed that urge aside when realization dawned on him. He had made his wife cry. He couldn't clearly remember the last time he saw Pan cry.

He stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Pan, what did I–"

He didn't even have time to dodge the hand that came up and cracked smartly across his cheek. He visibly winced as his head swung to the side with the force of the blow. But he had to recover, as she was shoving at him again. He had to take a step back to keep his balance, and his hands came up instinctively as she charged forward, her face streaked with tears, eyes hot.

"You fucking bastard! Do you really think I'm that selfish, that shallow!" It was the closest Trunks had ever heard his wife come to a scream. "What did you think I'd do, Trunks? Party like a horny teenager while I was pregnant? Drink myself stupid every night? Throw myself down the Goddamn stairs!" The tears were doing nothing to disguise the look of pure disgust on her face

She took several deep breaths, closing her eyes. "Do you really think that little of me, Trunks?" She opened her eyes again and the anger was gone, replaced by hurt. "You really think I'm that immature, that stupid?"

Trunks opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. His mind was still reeling from the emotional tidal wave his wife seemed to be riding. It was obvious in several seconds that Pan wasn't willing to wait for an answer. She brushed by him on an oath and Trunks was bolting after her a second later. He caught her arm as she reached the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Pan? You're riding an emotional roller coaster here and I can't keep up. Slow down for a–"

"What's wrong with me? I'll tell you what's wrong with me, Trunks Briefs!" She yelled jerking her arm from his grasp as she turned on him, eyes shining with fresh tears. "I'm pregnant with your fucking baby, you jackass! That's what's wrong with me," her voice cracked and her shoulders slumped in defeat as she finally told him. Marron had been wrong, he wasn't ecstatic, he didn't even think she'd make a good mother.

Overburdened and just plain tired, Pan slumped to the floor and buried her face in her hands once again. The tears came, and this time she sobbed aloud. She'd scrape up what was left of her dignity when Trunks left her alone with this baby she wanted so desperately.

But he was on his knees, his arms around her, before she could draw the first shuddering breath.

He had really done it this time. He had told his already pregnant wife that she wasn't ready for motherhood. No wonder she was raising Hell and damning his name. But she was pregnant with his baby, and it was hard to fight back the smile that was twitching at his lips. He was going to be a father. Now he just had to apologize until he was blue in the face, bow down and kiss her feet if necessary.

"I'm sorry, Pan," he whispered against her ear, smoothing her hair back. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. It's just. . .well, you know how you love to party."

"It's not a crime to like to have a good time, Trunks," she rubbed the back of her hand under her nose and sniffed hard. "I like partying, so what?. But did you actually think I was going to do it while I was pregnant.. Why do you think I've been sitting around here doing nothing for the past three months?" She scrubbed her hands over her face, her red-rimmed eyes..

Trunks's brow furrowed and he held her back an arm's length. "You knew you were pregnant before we did. . .this," he decided. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You mean before you did this. I tried to tell you, Trunks, but you didn't give me a chance." She countered, annoyance creeping into her eyes.

"I didn't give you a chance a few minutes ago either, but you made one." It was spoken more dryly than he had intended, but it irritated him to know that Pan had known about the pregnancy and had still let him leave. "You should have told me."

"Oh, well pardon me for being a little upset that my husband was suggesting we take a damn break," she sneered, trying to shrug his hands from her shoulders.

Trunks bit back the retort that was simmering on his tongue. "We're not arguing about this." He took her hands and pulled her too her feet.

"This isn't my fault," she pouted. "You're the one who left."

Trunks sighed, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "We'll talk about this later, Pan. For now you're going to bed."

Pan allowed Trunks to steer her to the bed, tuck her under the covers, knowing this was far from over.

"Get some rest," he said quietly, "we'll talk when you're feeling up to it."

Without another word he closed the door.

Pan stared at the spot where her husband had been standing moments ago. Shifting, she lay on her back, switching her gaze to the ceiling. This was it, this baby was going to make or break them.

Passing a hand over her stomach she smiled to herself, closed her eyes, and slept.

THE END

No, there will not be a sequel. I left it to your imagination folks, simple as that. I originally had a super cheesy ending that I deleted because it made me gag. I just can't stomach "happily ever after" anymore. Maybe because I'm too far steeped in reality.

Anyway, I'll have something new for you guys soon. Keep an eye out for Coffee & Cigarettes, my new T/P. Much love to all those who reviewed.