So here is the first chapter! Sorry it was so long in the making, but i've been lacking in the inspiration department lately. I hope you like it. Finally something different than my two-part T/P I just finished. (though I miss it...at times, but not really. So bad of me.)

Pan had sat on the couch in Trunks office, trying to look useful by scribbling notes or setting up his new electronic planner, until lunchtime. It was her first day, he had barely said anything beyond common courtesies, and now she glanced up to see him donning a sport coat over his blue button up shirt.

"Um," she began timidly, "sir, I—" He looked at her. She had a binder and his planner on her lap, and she was ever so timidly trying to gain his attention. He gave her a nod to show he was listening.

"It's just, I was wondering, um...are you going somewhere?" He nodded once again.

"There's a baseball game I'm going to a party at. They'll have some lunch and stuff there."

"Oh, a party?" He looked to her, deciphering whether she was being judgmental or sarcastic with him. "Like a box party?" He gave her an 'Mm, hm' by way of response. "Oh."

"Was there anything else you wanted to ask me, Miss Son?" He was straightening his collar and eyeing her with his startling blue eyes.

"Just, what would you like me to do for you this afternoon?" He looked surprised at her question.

"Well, aren't you going to come with me?" She stood immediately. "You're my personal secretary, remember?" He flashed her his famous smile, that same one that graced the covers and pages of magazines everywhere. "So your job is to accompany me throughout my day, and—if there is any hope—organize my life." Another smile.

"Shall we go?" He opened the door and gestured for her to exit first, and he then fell into step beside her.

Pan had felt awkward at the party. She had sat, still as a mouse, watching the crowd, speaking to the occasional gentleman who would address her. But with her eyes she keenly watched Trunks.

He was such the confident heir. Smiling to this person, shaking that person's hand and remembering his wife's name so he could ask how she was, politely refusing this or that. He knew how to play the game. He was perfect at it.

Pan was not.

She watched with interest him play the social game, thought of how her strong tongue made her say the wrong things at times, or be too passionate about things during a conversation.

It seemed hours passed by. Trunks was very courteous to her and made sure she was comfortable or all right. Made sure she had plenty to drink and enough to eat. Still she sat, quiet and still as a mouse.

When all was said and done, and the men had hung themselves at the windows to watch the final inning, rooting their baseball team on till the very end, Trunks and she walked outside and climbed into his chauffeured shiny black Cadillac.

"You don't drive a limo?" She had asked him on the way to the baseball game. He had laughed.

"Too bulky." Was his only response. She hadn't replied.

And so now they set themselves on the leather upholstery and he looked out the window with interest.

"Pull over here," He said, and the Cadillac pulled into a Wendy's. "Just through the drive thru, driver." She watched in surprise as Trunks proceeded to roll down his window and order.

"Would you like something?" He asked her. She shook her head wordlessly. "All right, um, two double classics and a large frosty." She watched in further amusement as they drove up to the window and he exchanged some cash for a paper bag containing delicious smelling fast food.

"I can't believe you passed up the chance for a frosty," He commented, unwrapping his burger and taking a massive bite. And Pan started chuckling. And then she started laughing. And then she was cracking up so much he raised a brow at her.

"Um, what is it?" He asked, and finally she caught her breath enough to respond.

"You're in a customized, designer suit," More chuckling erupted. "in a chauffeured car, eating fast food which you ordered from a drive thru." She caught her breath and sighed. "Don't you get the irony?"

"No." He shook his head. "I was hungry. The only food they served there were finger sandwiches and carrot sticks. Wouldn't you be famished if your expected lunch turned out to be that?" He snorted. "I almost left early so I could eat." He began chewing on his burger again. She turned her gaze out to the window.

"I mean," He continued, surprising her, "I'm only human." His statement took her by surprise.

"But you're—I mean, yes sir." She solemnly looked to her lap.

"What?" She shook her head demurely. "All right, Miss Son. Tell me who you think I am." He seemed amused, and leaned back in his seat to watch her.

"Excuse me?"

"Boss and Secretary Relations 101." He stated. "For our first lesson, you will tell me, in point blank honesty, who you think I am."

"Sir?"

"I want to hear it, right now. In point blank honesty. And if you're not honest, I might consider firing you." Her dark brows rose as he folded his arms.

"Well, sir, I..." He waved her on. "From what I've heard, that is...you want me to be honest?" He nodded. "Yes, sir. Well, I believe you to be rich, snobbish, womanizing, spoiled, a partying type, and that you waste money, slack at work, spend more time unproductively than productively..."

"Go on." He encouraged, terribly amused.

"Ungrateful, fake, ignorant of everyday people, inconsiderate, a flirt, and, well, inhuman in general." He applauded her quite literally by clapping his hands.

"Fantastic. I am very glad to know how you feel. It makes me feel better, to be honest. I hope you are up front with me, honest with me, and completely impromptu in everything regarding me. I handle people much better if I can be myself and honest in return. I couldn't do that if you weren't able to tell me if I'm a womanizing jerk or not."

Pan swallowed, completely in shock of this whole conversation.

A week went by, followed by another, and then another. Pan was settling into her position quite well. Their relationship had blossomed into precisely what he wished it to, and nothing was more attesting to that than one night when she had to make a call to his apartment.

She hopped on the elevator and rode it to the penthouse suite, where she knocked on the door. There were several moments when she considered knocking again, however just when she lifted her fist to do so, the doorknob turned.

Trunks, clad only in dress pants, greeted her. She raised a brow, but entered without hesitation.

"You forgot to sign these papers today while you were at the office and without them our board of trustees will vote out a high moderator, a computer research facility will be forced to shut down, and millions of foreign children will lose their factory jobs." She slapped them down on his kitchen table and whipped out a pen.

"Well, you see, I'm sort of busy right now." She looked at him blankly, the pen still raised in the air. "I'm actually entertaining—"

"It doesn't take that long for you to sign your name, does it?"

"—a guest."

"Trunks?" A voice called from down the hallway. "Who was that?" A tall blonde slinked into the room with barely the same amount of fabric about her person as Trunks, and looked quite put out at Pan's presence.

Pan turned to greet Trunks' love of the evening, and cast her a terribly fake smile. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but he has to sign a few documents. Just scuttle back and he'll be right with you as I'm sure he doesn't want to keep you, or himself, waiting." The blonde looked Pan up and down in shock. Pan made a scoot motion with her hands, and Trunks smoothed a hand behind his neck.

The girl tossed her hair over her shoulder and disappeared, and Trunks scribbled his signature on the papers and handed them back to Pan.

"Who's the new girl?"

"Just someone in town from Boston. She has an acting gig this week." Pan bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Hmmm. That's actually interesting. I was wondering because, you know, I've never met her before and, well, I'm with you about twenty-two hours a day." She chuckled, more to herself than anything, and made her way to the door.

"Womanizer?" He asked to her back. She turned around and gave him a smile.

"Confirmed, yes." And with that she left.

"I thought you hated the man," Her mom commented, spooning out a second serving of some tuna casserole on Pan's plate.

"Well, I do but I don't? I mean, he's my boss, the money's great, and the honesty is refreshing. It's just as far as he, himself goes." She twirled her fork before digging in to the melting cheese and noodles.

"I don't think he knew what he was getting into when he asked you to be honest." He father chuckled.

"But I gave him what he asked for, right?"

"Without hesitation." He agreed.

"I like going to work and not having to smile and be fake, and being able to hear the truth from my boss and give him the truth without being fired. He may be a spoiled jerk but he handles the truth quite well."

"He never gets mad at you or irritated when you say something?" Her mother raised a brow as she scooted into the table.

"Like the story we heard of you telling him—" Pan held up a hand defensively to her dad's comment.

"He took that with grace, he really did."

"He doesn't sound like someone I'd like." Videl shook her head as she poked at her salad.

"You wouldn't like him. And I've never said I do." Gohan laughed and shared a look with his daughter.

They heard a knock at the door, and her father went to answer it. There was muffled speaking, the sound of the door being shut, and Gohan called for Pan.

"You have a visitor, Pan." He said, and she got up from her seat, surprised. "Mr. Briefs." Her eyebrows rose.

"Bring him on in," Her mother slapped her with her napkin.

"What are you thinking?" She hissed, rising from her seat. Pan shrugged uncaringly as her father and Trunks walked into the room. Her boss had a sweater on under a brown leather jacket, and there was a touch of pink to his cheeks, probably from the cold weather.

"Mr. Briefs, this is my wife, Videl." Gohan gestured to Videl, who shook Trunks' hand rather warily.

"Um, I'm done with dinner," Pan took her plate. "Join me in the kitchen?" Trunks followed her after courteous nods and smiles Gohan and Videl's way.

"So there's this press conference tonight I really don't want to go to," He began. "I have nothing to say to them, and I had to cancel dinner plans with Litka."

"That German model?" Trunks nodded. She rinsed off her plate and began soaping it up with a scrubber. "So did I miss the point to all this—your statement? Your visit?"

"Was there one?" She looked at him and shook her head.

"I think you just want to vent."

"Exactly. You can't go and smile and read script lines to the public for me, can you?" She shook her head. "Then what do you do?"

"I organize your chaotic and pathetic life."

"Ah, yes." He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Come on, really. It isn't that hard. Just smile, read rehearsed lines that will make people applaud and take notes for tomorrow's headlines, and leave. Buck up and take it like a man."

"But I really wanted to have dinner with Litka." He whined, and she brushed a dishtowel over her plate before setting it on a drying rack.

"She has a speech impediment." She commented flatly.

"Who cares?"

"You would if you were planning on spending more than this weekend with her. Don't worry, more models will fly into town for next weekend and you can find a new girl to be seen around town with, and who you can waste money on for no real reason."

Silence ensued before he relented, saying, "You are right." She nodded briskly.

"You know I always am." She sighed and glanced at the microwave clock. "Now be gone with you. Go change and go to the press conference." He nodded glumly. "See you in the office tomorrow morning?" To this he nodded as well before letting himself out the door. She entered the dining room to find her parents pathetically trying to act natural.

"Were you listening?" She asked them, and they finally admitted they had been. "Do you like him?" She asked her mother.

"No."

"I told you so." Her father chuckled but didn't say anything. "He's only human." Pan shrugged.

"So I've heard." Was her mother's response.