Half-Crazy
Long Lunches and Video-Game Champions
Rated for language/situations
WitchyPrincess

"So what do you want?" He questioned for what had to have been the fifteenth time. Pan glared, sighed, and rolled her eyes all in the span of five seconds.

"Trunks, if you don't leave me alone I'm-"

"You are alone, Pan," he joked, gently ribbing her with his elbow. "Be careful what you ask for."

"You, big brother, are an asshole. It's not polite to remind a lady of that sort of thing." Bra intervened, setting her menu down on the table while glaring across at her brother.

"Well," Trunks grinned, winking at Pan as he pulled the lemon out of his tea. "It's a good thing that she's not a lady, then."

"Trunks, could you take five seconds to stop acting like such a jerk and,"

"Bra, why don't you leave me and Pan alone since we're not bothering,"

"Why don't the both of you stop bickering like brother and sister and let me think?" Pan intervened, looking over to Landon for some form of help. "Can't you control your girlfriend?" She pleaded raising her eyebrows at him.

Landon laughed, shaking his head and holding his hands up in defense. "No more than you can. You know Bra better than most, Pan, if she wants to argue then she's going to argue."

Trunks and Bra were still bickering in the background. Pan sighed again and slammed her menu down loud enough to stop the both of them from talking to each other.

"Fine. I've decided." She announced when she was sure Trunks was staring at her expectantly.

"Yes?" He asked with his annoyingly arrogant smirk.

"I'm going to have the special." She informed, glaring at him. "Now call the waitress over here."

"Finally, we can eat!" He exclaimed, holding up a hand to signal the waitress, who rushed over the second she made eye contact with Trunks.

"Are you ready to order now?" She asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes wildly in Trunks' direction. She switched the weight of her body from one hip to the other as she took out her pen and pad, swinging her silky cinnamon hair over her shoulder in the process.

"Yes," Trunks told her, either oblivious to her actions or uninterested. "I'll have the steak and potato meal with A1 sauce on the side, medium-well. And she'll," he continued, pointing at Pan while giving her an exasperated look. "Have today's special with a salad, not soup, and thousand island dressing. She'll take the fries as her extra side, with chilly and cheese on top."

He stopped, looking over to his sister and her boyfriend expectantly. Bra didn't even pause as she ordered her food, but it took Landon a moment before he regained his thinking process. He hadn't been out with Trunks and Pan together before so he wasn't used to this sort of thing.

When the waitress went away both Pan and Bra gave Trunks teasing looks. They turned to each other and puckered up their lips–Bra was sitting right across from Pan–making kissing sounds as they played along. Pan flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder and stuck out her chest, Bra batted her eye-lashes and gave Pan adoring looks.

"Oh Trunks," Bra intoned. "You're so dreamy."

"I can't do my job for staring at you," Pan continued. "I'll never be the same again."

They burst into laughter before Trunks could say a word to defend himself. He was too busy giving them baffled, though slightly amused, looks to say anything though.

"Pan, darling, I never knew you felt that way," He mocked when they were done, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her. Pan smirked.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice she was hitting on you," Pan challenged. "I mean, she did everything but drop her number in your lap."

"Actually..." Trunks trailed off, sliding closer to Pan so that she could see over him to where the number lay. "I think she thought that we were together, so she didn't want you to see." Trunks winked at her.

"That little bitch," Pan exclaimed. "I'm offended simply because of principle."

Bra started laughing but Landon gave each of them questioning looks.

"Excuse me for being the only confused one here," Landon broke in, his silver eyes displaying uncertainty. "But I thought you two weren't together."

Trunks, who had finally started sucking on the lemon in his hand, almost choked on it. Pan raised both her eyebrows in concern. "We're not." She protested after a second, dignified unease in her voice.

"What the hell would make you think we were?" Trunks regained himself enough to ask.

"Well, gee, I don't know," Landon responded sarcastically. "Perhaps all the bantering and teasing. I mean, maybe it's just me but...Oh, and the ordering thing. That was odd."

"What ordering thing?" Pan and Trunks asked, almost in sync.

"Well, you told him that you wanted the special, but that was it. And then he ordered everything for you."

"Okay doc, stop analyzing everything," Pan laughed. Landon was a psychiatrist. "He's known me my whole life. I'm predictable, it didn't require much to know what I was going to order."

Landon didn't challenge it, but he wasn't convinced either. Trunks had known Bra her entire life but he hadn't ordered for her. This was a date whether they wanted to admit it or not. He hadn't spent seven years of his life studying how to read people's actions and words for their actual meaning to not know what was going on in front of him right now. He knew enough, however, to keep his thoughts to himself.

"So, Landon," Trunks started after a moment of silence. "How's opening your own office going?"

"Well actually," Landon smiled. "I've found a place and we're working out the final details. I should have it opened and operating before the spring."

Trunks nodded, setting the lemon on his napkin, and looked up at Landon with solemn eyes. "You seem to have everything together," he told him in a heavy tone. Landon's eyes changed from happy and at ease to guarded in a second.

"Yes..." he nodded.

"If you don't mind my asking," Trunks paused, giving the man a hard look. "What the hell are you doing with my sister?"

Pan started cracking up, Landon's shoulders un-tensed, and Bra let out a slight squeak. She picked up her roll and tossed it at Trunks' head with impeccable aim.

"You jerk, how dare you,"

"I was just wondering, I mean, you guys have been together for what? Seven months? When's he going to wake up and smell the,"

"Who are you to talk? Mr. I Don't Have a Girlfriend? You don't know what you're,"

"Coffee? It was only a question, there's no need to become angry. I was simply,"

"Talking about. I mean, when was the last time you got laid, anyway? You,"

"Trying to hold civilized conversation with my sister's boyfriend. Hey, what's that supposed to mean? I have plenty of sex, thank you very much,"

"Wouldn't remember what a real woman felt like if one plopped down in your lap. And, ew, I didn't need to actually know how much sex you did or did not have, Trunks that's,"

"Sure I'd know a real woman. Here, Pan, plop in my lap," he patted his lap playfully, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. "And if you don't want to know the answer to a question, you shouldn't ask it. Don't be,"

"Disgusting!"

"Disgusted now."

Pan rolled her eyes, again, and covered her ears. This was going to be a long lunch. Where the hell was the waitress with their food?

It was fifteen more minutes before their food got there and another thirty-five before they finished eating, paid the bill and tip, and were out of there. Pan said her goodbye to Landon and Bra before promising to see Trunks later then headed home to get a few papers graded before Monday's class.

She was a History professor at Orange Star University and had been for the last two years. Coming out of high school, she hadn't known what she wanted to do, only that she wanted to major in History, and found that education came easy to her. She was good with learning the facts and even better at grading exams; she enjoyed making the lesson plans and she loved teaching those who wanted to learn. That was how she knew she had to teach in a college. She didn't want any children who didn't want to learn. Graduating early had it's advantages in that account, it meant she could get her education degree early and it was just that much simpler to become a professor and not a high-school teacher.

She hadn't regretted her decision a day since she'd made it. She didn't imagine that she ever would.

She walked into her apartment and immediately dropped her keys onto the kitchen counter. Kicking off her shoes, she walked into her study and picked up the stack of papers with a slight wince. She honestly wasn't in the mood to grade anything today.

For the life of her, she couldn't imagine what had possessed her to assign a paper for both her classes due so closely together. The papers that she had graded during the weekend to have ready for Monday's class had taken her some of Friday, most of Saturday and all of Sunday to get through. And now she had to do it all over again. The week had started off chaotic and it was only becoming more condensed. The only reason she could come up with was that Spring Break was on the way. But that was still a good month away. There was no reason for her to be overwhelmed, she was the professor.

But she was and that was the honest truth of it. It was Wednesday and she had to get these papers back to her Thursday class so that they could make their revisions. She was giving them a second chance on these papers, this one time. Looking over the sloppy work, she decided right then that she would never tell them that kind of thing ahead of time ever again. Clearly, there was no effort put into these things.

She was tempted to throw the whole stack down and just make them re-write them. She was also tempted to take them all for a grade and then make them re-write them. But that would be too cruel for her standards. If only she hadn't told them beforehand.

The ring of her telephone disturbed her train of thought so badly that she nearly jumped off the couch. Drawing in a breath, she laughed lightly at herself, and leaned over to pick up the phone.

"Talk to me," she commanded, pen placed behind her ear, eyes still glued to the paper in front of her.

"Put everything that you're busy with away and head over to my house." A deep voice demanded from the other line.

"Can't. Class tomorrow."

"Must. I command."

"Grading papers."

"Mario Tennis."

She put the paper down and tilted her head. "No fair." She pouted.

"Ten minutes." And they both clicked off their phones. She brushed all the papers into her briefcase, pulled the clip out of her hair and the pen from behind her ear and placed them on the table, grabbed her case and headed for the kitchen. She jumped around until her feet fell into her shoes and then grabbed her keys with her free hand. Turning off the light on her way out, she shut and locked the door and then headed towards her car.

She was there with two minutes to spare. Trunks' place was the closest to hers and they had been ribbed for their close living quarters for weeks after she moved into her apartment. Everyone made at least one joke about how she chose her apartment simply to be close to Trunks and, nearly three years later, she still hadn't heard the end of the jokes. Anytime someone thought enough to bring it up, the round of jokes started all over again.

She let herself in, she had a set of keys because she took care of his place whenever he went away on business trips–she was still being made fun of about that set of keys too–and headed into his bedroom. There was already pizza sitting on the coffee table and the game system was set up. He had a sitting area in the far left corner of his room where he had positioned a television, couch, and table for gaming purposes. She could hear him rummaging around in the bathroom and could only assume that he was just getting out of the shower.

He came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and a toothbrush in his mouth–he brushed his teeth at least three times a day, he was anal about those kinds of things. She swallowed hard and reminded herself not to look down at his chest...or anything below his chest...before an easy smirk fell onto her lips.

"If you had told me you were going to shower I would have waited an hour before coming by." Her smirk turned into a half-grin as she shook her head and wrinkled her nose. "You could have used the extra time."

"Shut-up book nerd," he responded after pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth. "Who told you to come with your work?" His eyes traveled down to the briefcase in her hands with disdain. "I'm not helping you with that, you know. And you were two minutes early."

"I left right after you called and if you expect me to play any games with you, you are going to help me Trunks Vegeta Briefs."

"There's no need to resort to full-name calling." He pouted, running his tongue over his newly cleaned teeth. She made herself not see that too. "Go change clothes while I get dressed. I'm not playing anything with you while you look like that."

She had a myriad of dirty comments that could have followed that statement but bit them all back as she rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

She knew the answer, of course. She was wearing a navy-blue business suit and blazer with matching blue pumps. She hadn't intended to keep the clothes on but it was the fact that he was commenting on them that made her challenging.

He gave her a 'look' but didn't answer, turning instead and heading back into the bathroom to get dressed. She shrugged and headed over to his wardrobe, knowing that it would be just as easy to steal his clothes as it would be to get her own. She had a dresser full of stuff at his house, in one of the spare bedrooms that she had claimed as her own, but she liked to wear his clothes just to tick him off.

She stole a light blue business shirt and a pair of yellow gym shorts that were bound to hang off her hips and didn't match in any way. It was going to drive him crazy all night, he hated things that didn't match. She smirked and quickly squirmed out of her clothes and into his, not at all concerned that Trunks could walk in while she was changing. She buttoned up three of the middle buttons on his shirt and moved to sit down on the couch. He came out right before she plopped down on the chair.

"What are you doing?" He asked slowly, his tone suggesting the annoyance that his eyes didn't show.

"Sittin' down." She informed without looking at him, reaching for a slice of pizza.

He snorted but didn't comment. Walking over to the pile of clothes that she had left on the floor, he picked them up and gave her a discouraging look that she didn't see because she wasn't facing him. Shaking his head, he folded up her work clothes and placed them neatly on his bed, mumbling about how messy she was.

"Your two minutes are up, Briefs." Pan informed him, bitting into the pizza and looking back at him with a smile that suggested she had heard his mumbles and found them amusing. And she had.

"I'm coming, stop being so impatient. And use a napkin or I'll have to kill you."

"You'll have to kill me to get me to use a napkin with pizza Trunks." She complained as he took a seat beside her.

"Shut-up and start the game." She sighed, grabbed the remote, and flipped it to AV while he grabbed his controller. Putting her slice of pizza down on the table, without a napkin under it to Trunks' disgust, she picked up her own controller and turned in the couch, swinging her legs up so that her feet rested in his lap.

"I'm going to whip you, I hope you know."

He adjusted his body so that she was in a more comfortable position, shook his head, and rested his arms on her ankles. "In your dreams, Pan, in your dreams."

"I will. And when I do, you're going to help me grade these papers."

"Deal." He stated confidently, sure that Pan was going to lose and he would have gotten out of helping her. He had been practicing.

She was true to her word however, and seven games later she was hopping around the room yelling "Who's yo' daddy?" in a commanding voice while he was grumbling and marking the historical errors on one of the papers from the stack. He hated it the most when she was right about something.

To be continued...