Pan's apartment was a major step down from the penthouse apartment that Trunks rented, but it was cozy. "Tea?" she asked once they got inside. "That's all I really have to offer."

"I'm fine," he said, settling into her couch. It was deliriously comfortable. His own furniture was mostly just for its posh looks…Pan had regarded it as minimalist and Scandinavian…too neutral for her tastes. Of course, Bra had picked it out with the orders that it should at least look like a man lived there. Otherwise, she had free license.

"The remote is on the coffee table." But he just relaxed further back into the cushions and closed his eyes. Pan came over and plopped down beside him. He hadn't realized he was actually this tired. She was right. He had been running on empty for months. It didn't help that he hadn't had a vacation in a couple of years, aside from the sparse company holidays. Weekends were a god-send, even if he did have to check his email and take a few calls. In just a few minutes, he was sound asleep. Pan smiled. It had worked every time in the history of the couch. It didn't matter if Pan was hosting dinner, showing a movie, or getting everyone together to watch the big game, Trunks inevitably fell asleep on that couch before the night was through. Sometimes, he fell asleep before the opening sequence in the action movie.

He slept the entire night on her couch. When his phone rang in the morning, he answered it, took the call, then laid back down and slept until he had to get up and go home to get dressed for work. Pan was in the shower when he left, quietly, out the door.

Trunks walked into his apartment late that afternoon, calling out to his butler he was home. There was no response.

"Gin?" he called, setting his belongings down on the couch. "Hello?"

"I gave him the rest of the day off," she said from out on the balcony. He could see sleek black hair stretched out behind her onto the deck of the hot tub.

"Thanks for taking the liberty of doing that."

"No problem. He didn't object. I cooked you dinner. It's on the stove. Bulma sent me over with that box full of plans and the prototypes…it's on the dining table."

"That was sweet of you to bring those over for her."

"You say that like I offered to do her a favor."

As promised, the box of junk was on the table and pots of noodles and pork dumplings were on the stove. Trunks could have cried at the beautiful sight. It was gone in a matter of minutes.

Fully sated, he walked around to the living room where the balcony door was opened. "Are you pruney yet?" he asked, looking over the railing to the street below; he didn't look in her direction.

"No, actually. The role of courier and cook took up the majority of my time here, so I haven't been in here long. Although, I will say, this is heaven." He turned and looked at her. She had her head tilted back against the headrest and had her eyes closed, neck craned back enough for him to take in the graceful curves that lead into smooth, sexy shoulders.

"Are you naked?" he asked.

"I really recommend the hot tub treatment after long days like today," she continued, ignoring his question like he hadn't said anything. Her face was relaxed. He stepped back in and returned with two towels, setting them on the deck.

"Are you naked? I only ask because I would like to know the dress code before I hop in." Pan opened one eye and tilted her head up to look at him, a few strands of hair slipping over her shoulder and into the turbulent water.

"No, Trunks, I carry a swimming suit around in my back pocket," and with that statement, she tilted her head back and closed her eye. Trunks slid into the water a few seconds later, heaving a sigh as he submerged his body. "If I was you, this would be my favorite place, and Gin would have to peel me out of here to go to work."

"Actually, I've only ever used this thing twice, which is really a shame, since the last renter must have paid a fortune to get it installed on this floor." He rested his head back, feeling tension ease out of his body reluctantly.

"Take your ponytail down," Pan said.

"What?"

"It'll help your headache."

"How do you know I have a headache?"

"You were squinting when I looked at you." He pulled his hair down, letting it fall around his shoulders, floating atop the water. It did feel better to have it down. "Long day?"

"Meh. Thank you for letting me sleep on your couch last night. And for cooking for me now."

"I figured you would be hungry after the presentation with the investors." He was getting a little suspicious of her motives.

"How was your day?"

"Well, I figure, triples with your father, plus several malfunctioning robot prototypes, along with Bulma throwing random jobs at me after work makes for a pretty busy day."

"Triples, huh?"

"It's so I can kick your ass and drag you around where I want one of these days." Her foot brushed his but she jerked away quickly. "Sorry."

"'s fine," he replied lazily. "If Gin was here, he could bring us a bottle of wine."

"I have a bucket of beer on ice on the other side," she said. Trunks leaned over the edge and pulled two beers out. She sat up to take it, hair cascading off the deck into the water, riding the waves of bubbles until clinging to shoulders. She took a long sip and set the bottle on the edge.

"Plans later?"

"Nothing planned. Stay in…too tired."

"Was this a worse day than you are letting on then?"

"We didn't meet the set growth goal this past quarter. We gained but only met half the goal. I had to break that at the investors meeting today, and, of course, they interpreted that as we are losing market ground to Tekco."

"They always think that and are always wrong."

"I know, but they still have to gut me and rake me over the coals at the meeting." No wonder he had a headache.

"C'mere," she said, ushering him over. "Sit on this step and I'll rub your shoulders for you. You know I'm the best at it." He slipped across to her, resting on the step between her legs, letting her slide her hands across his tense neck and back, working out knots and kinks. It was relaxing and delicious; her fingers, thumbs and palms each a magical implement, expertly put into use by Pan. His reaction was mostly an attempt at not drooling and letting his eyes roll back in his head.

"Is that better?" she asked. He groaned an affirmative response and collapsed back against her body, worn out from the day and finally healing.

"And what I just did would be much less awkward if you were wearing a bathing suit."

"Don't worry about it Trunks. It's not like I'm laying back on you and your erection." He laughed and relaxed into the curve off her body. He was sure she was seducing him slowly, working some discreet angle, but he didn't care that that moment.

Pan stayed over that night, watching movies with Trunks before crashing in the guest room. She laid awake for a bit after going to bed, playing games on her phone, listening to Trunks toss and turn and fail to sleep in his room. After she had marinated in her pity for him longer than she wanted, she got up and went in his room.

"Do you need a glass of warm milk to sleep?" she asked him. He groaned.

"Is it your nature to seize every opportunity you can to taunt me?" he said, face down in the pillow.

"Yes, but I reserve my taunting exclusively for you," she said, walking over to climb up in his bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She slipped under the covers beside him and immediately stuck her cold feet to his leg, which was answered with a hiss of explicatives.

"Seducing you with my cold feet. Little do you know, but in other places in the world, this is a very erotic gesture." He rolled over to face her, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Oh, really now? Where? The North Pole?"

"I just made that up," she said turning away from him and moved a little closer to him. "Hold me." It was a command, not needy or whiny, and it left no room for disagreement. Of course, that didn't stop the son of Vegeta from voicing his opinion.

"Pan, I don't think that this is entirely appropriate."

"It's not if you are a kid…but we're grow-ups, Prince Charming. So shut the hell up and hold me. It's not like I'm telling you to fuck me. Kami. I'm tired of hearing you sighing and tossing and turning trying to sleep. Besides, I haven't had some needy man hold me lately."

"I'm not needy," he said incredulously.

"No, but you need to hold someone to sleep, don't you? Now shut the hell up and put your damn arm around me like you're keeping me safe from the dangers of the night or whatever." He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. He breathed in the smell of her hair; felt the warmth of her body and smoothness of her skin.

"Kami," he breathed, settling into his pillow and closer to her.

"I'm not Kami, just Pan, boxer boy," she whispered. "Sweet dreams."

Of course, his dreams were too sweet. He had a woman in his bed; a woman that wouldn't have him without slow torture being involved, and, she was employing slow torture in a way he had never known. She was like a silent enemy, killing him with genuine kindness and ulterior motives. He tried to reason that she was Pan…an irritating and mischievous kid he had babysat as a teenager. He tried to talk himself out of his attraction but that was incredibly hard to do.

He slept perfectly that night, past noon the next day. Pan didn't stir and wake him. She lay beside him, quiet and courteous, telling herself she was nursing him back to health because it was bad form to pursue already wounded prey that would easily succumb to a predator. She did care about his well-being as his friend though. He needed a damn vacation from the bullshit of his life. She pushed strands of hair from his face and looked at the peace that had settled across his features. He was beautiful, a perfect man.

"Pan…" he whispered in his dream, stirring for a moment. He pulled her close, and she knew exactly what he was dreaming about. Men. Her face was rested in the curve of his neck, the soft smell of man and the thin layer of sweat generated from their body heat triggering a slight feeling of yearning and emptiness as she lay quietly beside him. Tenderly, she kissed his neck, tasting his skin, letting her lips settle on his pulse, beating faster and stronger than a regular human's. Her heart thrummed in harmony with that beat.

He groaned, subconsciously running his hand down her side, grabbing her behind the knee and pulling her leg over his thigh. He would wake soon, she assessed. He was on the edge of consciousness, the dream slipping through his fingers. The rock-hard erection that was planted against her naked abdomen had produced beads of wetness, and his hips seemed to be fighting a losing battle not to thrust. His breathing was ragged, and Pan was fascinated. Hell, she had never seen a man having a wet dream. Yeah, she had on two occasions woken up to the ill after-effects of one, but had never witnessed the dream in process. Trunks made her think of a dog that was chasing rabbits in its sleep, going through all the motions, even an occasional woof. That made her grin more than it should have.

"Pan," he said, louder, his hips beginning to rock, reacting to the warm touch against her belly. She was debating waking him up…this was getting a little ridiculous, but, if she was having a good dream, she wouldn't want to be woken up. Then again, he might be embarrassed in just a couple of seconds…

She decided against better judgment to let him sleep, and when he began to make the sound of the pitifully sexual unfulfilled encounter, she wrapped her hand around his very large, very hard dick. About three thrusts later, he was coming on her stomach and sheets and hand. She let moved to get up but he grabbed her by her wrist, eyes sliding open, a satisfied smirk on his face. Before he could get in a word, she beat him to it.

"I didn't realize that 39-year-olds had wet dreams." He closed his eyes and smiled in earnest.

"I would be embarrassed about it if you had come to bed with underwear on."

"I would be embarrassed if you knew the whimpering sounds you were making."

"So you helped me out of pity?"

"I would only expect the same from you if I sounded like I was suffering. And besides, I didn't wear underwear over here last night, so naturally I didn't have any to wear to bed." He shook his head.

"Any particular reason why you didn't?"

"I never wear underwear with skirts if I don't have to," she said, smiling just for his benefit.

"Plans today?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"I'm going to shower. I don't know about you. And, no, you can't join me." She got up and started toward his bathroom, pulling his old T-shirt over her head and dropping it on the floor, leaving him with a good look at her backside.

They went over to Capsule Corp to spar for a while after they ate lunch. Trunks was beginning to get heavily distracted in a way he wasn't used to while sparring…by a damn woman. In the history of things that had distracted him while sparring, he could honestly say a woman had never distracted him. Now, this woman, Pan, whom he had known and sparred with her whole life, was keeping him from having his head in the fight. She was barely dressed in her training gear…but that had been the norm for quite some time. The memories of the morning had a resounding effect in his mind. He had been dreaming of her, and she knew it. He had been just on the cusp of waking, close to climax, when he became aware of his surrounds. And he had weakly groaned at the loss of the momentum, the dream, which involved Pan looking down at him from a desirable vantage, head thrown back and breasts bouncing in her black lace bra…But then the dream faded. He could have cried. But she was there next to him, and at his defeated groan, grasped him and held him until he finished. Any other woman probably would have been mortified or disgusted. On that same token, if he had been in the bed with another woman, he wouldn't have had a wet dream left in him.

Pan was taking advantage of him now and pummeling him into oblivion. It wasn't pretty. She had caught up with him strength-wise. She might not have been entirely aware of this, having lived in the shadow of the half-sayians' strengths her entire life, but she was up there with them now. It didn't help that she had channeled her recent efforts into strenuous training and masterminding some twisted way of eliciting a pathetic beg out of him. He was just a slack-ass at training, having let an unsatisfying job rule his life. And while he was assessing his inadequacies and Pan's sexual desirability, she took the opportunity to knock him into the floor with all her strength…she didn't even bother using a ki blast. She stood over him a second as he found his breath.

"Go find a quiet corner to masturbate in and come back when you can actually pay attention, boxer boy." And she left.

"Kami, she can break a man down," he said after she had walked out.

"That's a rather high assessment of yourself, brat," Vegeta said from the doorway. "Although, it is nice that she doesn't come in each morning smelling like the impotent seed and sickly sweat of some puerile human male." Trunks stood up, bristling at the reminder of Pan's previous endeavors. Vegeta closed the door behind him and turned up the gravity. Now the recoil of Trunks's lack of training would truly be felt.

A/N: sorry for the slow update time! Summer classes are almost over so I should be updating more frequently now! :-)