"Pan? Pan…" a voice snapped her out of her distraction. The big, brown eyes of her little brother looked up at her curiously, wondering why she had suddenly fallen so still and quiet. "It's your turn!"
She inhaled deeply, looking at the board in front of her and realizing she'd been ignoring her strategy. It was bad enough her baby brother was inheriting their father's studiousness and regularly beat her even when she was at the top of her game, but she was showing an extra terrible performance on this particular night. It was a total slaughter.
She scratched her chin as she studied his last move and the tiles in front of her. With a sudden, cocky smile, she laid six tiles on the table in front of her, then withdrew her hands to await her brother's return attack.
Goku didn't move. In fact, he raised an eyebrow, looking at her skeptically as though she'd done something wrong.
"What?" she asked. "That was a valid play." Goku shook his head negatively. "I added an I-R and an L-E-S-S to your 'regard'. Irregardless."
He looked over at his father for support. Gohan had been reading a book next to them, and although he wasn't playing, he was keeping track. He also raised an eyebrow, matching his son's expression almost perfectly. She was feeling gained up on.
"It's not a word," Gohan said.
"Sure, it is!" Pan argued. "People use it all the time."
"They use it," Gohan started, "but it's not technically correct. The average person will understand what you're trying to say, but…"
"…it's against the rules!" Goku said happily, holding up a dictionary of formal language, which was the bible for their word games. He was excited to be winning so easily, but he was going to get tired of trying to compete with someone who couldn't keep up with him. She smiled despite his poor sportsmanship. She wouldn't get a lot more of these moments before his big sister was old news.
"Okay," she said with a chuckle. "You win. I think my writing muscles have gotten weak while I've been out of school."
"It happens to the best of us," Gohan said, attempting to sound comforting.
She chortled, stood up and kissed the side of his head. "No, it doesn't," was her retort. Her father was a genius, no matter what, and Goku only seemed to be taking after him.
She decided to go to the kitchen where her mother was still cleaning up, noting that her father put down the book and was now challenging Goku to a father-son game. Probably more evenly matched.
Videl was up to her elbows in dishwater, humming away as she stood at the sink, scrubbing the leftovers off her dishes. She looked content, but Pan could always tell when her back was hurting her. She was starting to get a little older, her hair showing just a few silver strands amidst the sea of onyx. The dishes were bad enough when it was only her, Gohan, and Pan, but now a fourth endless stomach had been added to the house and dinner was a considerably larger ordeal. Being so much older than she'd been when Pan was Goku's age wasn't helping.
She walked up to the sink and stood next to her mom, rolling up her sleeves before reaching in for a dish and a sponge. "The dojo's doing well, Mom," Pan started, "you can afford to have someone come in and do this."
"I could," Videl said sardonically, "but then I'd have to let a stranger in to the house – and there would be questions, they wouldn't do things the right way… It'd be more trouble than it's worth."
Pan laughed quietly at her mother's old and often-repeated argument. She pressed no further, knowing it would be pointless and instead rested her head against Videl's shoulder affectionately as they continued working. "You're channeling Grandma a little."
"I'm going to ignore that," Videl said curtly, but with a soft chuckle. "I'm glad you came over. Goku loves it when you're here."
"Yeah – I was getting a little sick of frozen food," she lied. The truth was, her apartment was too quiet. She had very few distractions, which meant that she was too far into her own thoughts – and those thoughts had been causing nothing but pain and a stress headache for the past few days. She wanted to be around comfort, warmth, and love – and all of those resided in this house with these people.
"I still have your grandmother's cookbooks, you know," she said, starting another often-repeated argument. "I learned from her; I can pass it down to you."
Pan smiled, handing her a finished dish to dry. "Maybe her baozi. It was always my favorite."
"Oh," Videl said in mild surprise. "That's the furthest I've ever gotten."
She laughed quietly. For a while, they worked in comfortable silence, shifting the majority of the pile from one side of the sink to the other as more dishes were cleaned and dried. The work went much faster with two of them. Pan was grateful for the monotony at first, but after a moment, the sound of ceramic clanks and the quiet voices of her brother and father faded away and she was left with her own thoughts again.
Anger welled up in her chest as she remembered his face, barely glancing back at her to tell her what a mistake she had been before he left her in the strange room by herself. He'd said "it's not your fault" to her as though the thought had ever crossed her mind that it was. But he was the one to stop by the dojo on that night, spending the evening giving her strange looks and acting defensively towards someone he'd barely just met. He was the one who touched her face in his office and then freaked out. He cheated by going to the second level of Super Saiyan and he was the one who let himself get overexcited in reaction to the transformation.
He wasn't alone there, a little voice inside her head spoke. It was annoying, but accurate.
She'd be lying if she tried to say she wasn't part of it, that she hadn't encouraged him in a very big way. She was rewarded with the memory of that first incredible touch being forever burned into her mind with a searing heat, but also with the curse of being pissed off every time she thought about it. It was very confusing. What was even more perplexing for her was the fact that she would trade that unimaginably powerful and pleasurable experience for the ability to simply be his friend again. She missed him, but at the moment, she hated him, and since he hadn't made a single effort to get in touch with her since that day, she surmised that he felt the same and that was just how it was going to be.
"You've been a little unfocused tonight," Videl noted. She'd been standing with her hand out for a few moments, waiting for Pan to finish washing the dish she'd already scrubbed three times over.
"Sorry," she said quietly, finally handing it over before going in for another one.
Videl examined her face, attempting to let her have her autonomy and fighting the temptation to dig too far into every event of her adult life. She didn't need to be privy to everything, but that didn't mean she wasn't curious. "Is it anything – you'd like to talk about?" she asked vaguely.
Pan considered it, but it would be complicated to tell her mom the full story without going into the dirty details of that afternoon, or the identity of the person she'd shared it with. As simple as the situation might seem to someone on the outside of it, Videl didn't keep secrets from Gohan for long and both of those elements held potentially profound consequences for the entire relationship between the Son and Briefs families. Putting that at risk wasn't worth any benefit of cathartic sharing. No matter how angry she was with him, he didn't deserve for a one-sided story to potentially come between him and his life-long best friend.
"Not really," she said.
Videl took a deep breath, willing down her desire to interrogate her. She could see something in her daughter's face and it had been there all night. Even though Pan was an adult and had access to superhuman powers, Videl was always going to worry when something seemed this far off. "Is it a boy?" she asked, prying just a little more. Pan thought about what she was going to say to get out of this line of questioning, but her silence gave Videl the answer she was looking for. "It's not the professor, is it?"
"No," she answered quickly. Muda was still a sore point for her. She was not interested in going down that path again, and the further she got from it, the more toxic it seemed.
Thank god! Videl shouted in her mind, careful not to let the relief show on her face. "Okay," she said aloud, feigning indifference.
Pan put down her sponge and turned towards her mother. A question was evident on her features, but it was taking while to get past her lips. Videl patiently waited, but put her last dish in the rack and returned her daughter's focused attention.
"You and Dad…" Pan started slowly, "You were friends before you dated, right?"
Pan expected a quick confirmation and was surprised when Videl delayed as much as she was. She cocked her head to the side, looking at her mother quizzically when she still wasn't responding. "Well, yes, but…." Videl finally started.
"'But' what?"
Videl looked down at her hands while she dried them. "Your father has a tendency to exaggerate that timeline a little bit when he tells the story. It really wasn't long. We met shortly before Buu and we were dating shortly afterward. I pretty much knew it was going to happen at the tournament – and if Gohan says anything different, he's lying," she said with a chuckle.
Pan blinked in surprise with her mother's sudden candor. This was new information. "He told me you didn't date until college – because he needed to focus on school – or - something."
"I know," she said. "That's what he thought was right to tell a teenage girl who was starting to get very interested in boys. He hoped it would encourage you to slow down."
Pan laughed heartily for a moment, rubbing her forehead with the back of her soapy hand as she took a moment to digest that information. "So, you were never really 'friends?"
Videl shook her head. "We went through that stage pretty quickly." Pan's mouth fell slightly open as she stared at her mother. Videl could practically see her erasing the mental map she'd previously had of her parents' history and making space for the new data. "Why are you asking?"
"Actually," Pan started, "that kind of kills the second part of my question."
"Try me anyway?"
Pan returned to her previous thoughts, reloading the question that had been on her mind to ask before this small bombshell landed. "Do you think you would've stayed friends if it hadn't worked?"
Videl took a deep breath as she thought about this carefully. More than likely, Pan was asking because she was on the precipice of moving a friendship of hers to something more. So, did she give her the fairytale answer? Tell her to "go for it and if he really cares for you, it'll work out either way"? Or did she tell her the truth: that sometimes it changed everything and there was a point at which going backwards was impossible?
"Uh – no," she said bluntly. Pan's eyes widened in surprise again, but the way her brow furrowed told Videl that it wasn't the answer she was looking for. Pan opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as she absorbed what she'd just heard.
Videl elaborated, looking back through the door at her husband's back as though what she was about to say was a secret. "I've told you before – I didn't just date anyone. I had a number of offers on the table too," she said with a cocky smile uncharacteristic of her normal self. "Boys at the school, some of my poppa's 'apprentices' – even a rookie or two on the force. Your father was the first one I ever had real feelings for – and if he wouldn't have returned them, I don't – I don't think I could've watched him with someone else from a front row seat. I saw what I wanted in him; either we were going to end up here, or I would've walked away."
Pan smiled sadly, and Videl knew by her expression that she understood what she'd said all too well. "So then, no platonic Saiyaman sidekick?" she joked.
Videl chuckled. "Absolutely not."
"When were you sure he felt the same way?" she asked.
Videl laughed again, predicting the reaction Pan would have to her following statement. "I informed him we were going to start dating – and he said 'okay.'"
Pan snorted involuntarily. When she was growing up, many people told her that her spunky impatience and pushiness reminded them of Videl. She'd only ever seen the doting wife and mother, who she knew had mellowed after rearing a family, so to hear about that side of her from childhood friends of her mom's had always seemed a little unbelievable. It was moments like this when she realized how much of Videl she really had in her.
"Wow, Mom," she said. "I wish I had that kind of confidence."
Videl twisted her head in bewilderment at that statement, but chose not to immediately say anything. Pan did have that kind of confidence. She'd seen it firsthand. Her daughter was not shy when it came to men, especially when they fit her "type", so whomever this mystery man was, they must've been throwing her completely off balance.
"So," she started cautiously. "Do I get the pleasure of knowing this person's name?"
"Mom…" she simply said. Her whiney tone told Videl not to ask that again.
"Oh – or if he's a friend, have I already met him?"
"Momma…" she complained more loudly, snapping her a look.
Videl put her hands in the air in surrender. "Alright, alright. I know I didn't give you the answer you probably wanted to hear, but if you ever want to talk…"
"No," Pan said, surprisingly acceptive of this fact, "but it was probably the one I needed to hear."
"But you can always come home whenever you want to, you know. Even if it's just for Chichi's baozi and a boardgame."
"Thanks."
When it was apparent the conversation had died, they heard a soft knock on the wall of the kitchen. Gohan was leaning in slightly, trying to leave them space even as he interrupted. "Pan – you're being summoned. He said he'd let you pick the game this time."
She smiled, and nodded, wiping her hands on the nearby dishrag before accepting the request. Goku had her wrapped around his finger and knew it. Not many people could order her around like that, but she didn't resist. She sat back down at the table in the dining room, leaving Gohan and Videl alone in the kitchen.
He looked back to make sure both of his kids were busy with their new game before walking up behind Videl. "Are you going to help me finish these?" she asked.
"In a minute," he said cutely, wrapping his arms around her waist and gently resting his chin against her shoulder.
She smiled, enjoying the warmth of his chest against her back, accepting this as the one valid excuse for getting out of chores.
"So – what was that about?" he asked.
She turned her head to look at him incredulously. "You weren't listening in?"
"Well – I started to, but I only honed in when you were talking about dumping me on my ass if I refused to date you," he explained. "I missed the first part."
She grabbed a bowl and sloshed the water around in it a little harder than she needed to, hoping it would cover her voice a little. "Boy problems."
He merely grunted to convey his understanding, but she also felt him tensing his jaw and clenching his teeth a little. "It's not that Muda guy, is it?" he asked quietly in her ear.
"No."
"Thank god!" He immediately relaxed.
He looked back into the room where Pan and Goku were, now playing a game with dice and strategy that didn't require language skills. He agreed with Videl when she surmised that her answer hadn't been the one Pan was looking for, but at the moment, that didn't seem to matter. She was visibly more relaxed than she had been all night, and engaged with her little brother completely instead of being distracted.
"Well, whatever's wrong, I think your talk helped her figure something out."
Videl matched his eyeline, watching Pan smile and play, just as normal.
"Apparently," she said, hoping it was true.
The phone had been ringing off the hook all morning, combining with the soft "dings" of his email alerts to create a near migraine-inducing symphony. Every time he heard a new noise, he gritted his teeth slightly, and it was getting to the point he suspected they would be boney nubs by the end of the day. To make it worse, the sun was shining brightly and there was a pleasant breeze coming in through the window that his mother had left open during her most recent visit. It was tantalizing. A few short years ago, he would've been out the window already, but somehow, some time ago, he'd grown a work ethic. He hated it.
He was in the middle of writing an email he shouldn't have needed to write, sighing in frustration with nearly every new sentence, when his thoughts were blissfully interrupted by a different ring. A special tone, assigned to only a select few, interrupted the torturous cacophony of office noises, and he saw his best friend's name pop up on his phone.
"Goten," Trunks greeted cheerily, putting him on speaker so he could finish this email letter-by-letter if he had to. He was going to hit "send" by the time this conversation was over if it killed him.
"Hey!" Goten's perpetually happy voice came through the other side. "Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."
A quiver of nausea went through Trunks' stomach as he saw his email box deliver another half a dozen messages through at once. "Not at all!" he lied. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering if you got it yet?"
Trunks stopped typing for a moment and thought about the question, honestly confused by it for just a moment. "Oh! Yeah. The courier dropped it off this morning."
Goten exhaled over the phone. "Don't scare me like that. This is the most money I've ever spent in my life! Did you look at it?"
"I saw it when you bought it," Trunks reminded him with a chuckle.
"I know – but did you check it? I want to make sure it's perfect."
He rolled his eyes and gave up on the email, turning in his chair so he could roll it over to the box on his back credenza. He tore open the white shipping envelope and pulled out the box inside, opening that box to reveal the smaller, velvet container. A sparkle greeted him from a simple gold band with a nice-sized stone resting balanced on the top. He smiled, feeling warm happiness for his friend, who had also seemed to finally get serious at some point when he wasn't looking.
"It's perfect," Trunks assured him.
Goten sighed in relief again. "Is it any bigger than I remember? I feel like it's too small. Should I take it back and get another one?"
"She's not going to care about the size," Trunks said encouragingly. "It's the fact that it's from you. Besides, you've talked about it right? So, she's expecting it – and she'll be excited."
"Right – I hope so," he said, sounding unconvinced.
"Anyway, the one I bought was bigger and it got rejected, so…"
He heard Goten suck in air through his teeth. I just made this conversation weird, didn't I? he thought, searching for words to get the topic back on his friend. He didn't come up with anything fast enough before the inevitable follow-up question was asked.
"Yeah – how are you doing with that?"
Trunks shook his head, regretting every word in his last sentence. He didn't want to hash this out again. It felt like he was picking at a raw scab each time someone asked him to think about it. Although, for some reason, it didn't seem to come with the soul-crushing feeling he'd previously gotten when the subject came up. In fact, he realized, he'd been thrown into such inner chaos over what had happened between him and Pan that he hadn't thought about being dumped in a while.
"Uh – okay," he said honestly, a little surprised himself.
"Really? Moving on this time?"
"Yeah, apparently," he said cautiously, also surprised with how authentic that response was.
"Wait – do you have another one already?" Goten asked in a disbelieving tone. Trunks didn't know what to say. Goten knew him very well, and even though he wasn't always the sharpest of the two, he knew how to read situations pretty accurately, especially when it involved dating. Unfortunately, he could also read in between the lines too, picking up on the meaning of the over-stretched silence from Trunks' side. "You do! That's a record. Wow – you want to tell me about her?"
"Noooo…" Trunks immediately wished he hadn't answered with such enthusiasm.
"Ah – one of those, huh?"
Trunks cringed, really wishing Goten wouldn't try and talk about that anymore. He was normally pretty open with him, but this was, for obvious reasons, something he was not going to share. "Uh – I've got to go anyway," he said truthfully after a calendar reminder popped up on his desktop. "I've got a meeting – a three-hour long meeting."
"Ouch."
"I think another small fry is trying to get us to buy them out or something," he said with a groan, "I haven't actually looked at the agenda yet; it's been crazy around here."
"Got it. I won't keep you then. Thanks for keeping the ring in your vault. I'll call you when I get the details knocked out."
"Alright. Talk soon."
The phone beeped indicating Goten had hung up. Even though he wasn't looking forward to the next item on his list, he wasn't completely disappointed that conversation had been cut short. He'd be sure to think of some sort of lie set for the next inevitable conversation. Goten liked being nosey as much as he liked oversharing.
He could hear the voice of his administrative assistant speaking with his next appointment outside of his office and refocused his attention to his calendar. "Meeting to discuss Plus/Deltas of recent partnership effort between Capsule Corp…" His eyes were already crossing in boredom before he could read the rest. This was going to be a long day.
A knock on the door sounded and Trunks told them to come in, standing up to look presentable to whomever was about sit in front of him for the next few hours. When she entered the threshold, his knees weakened in shock and he fell right back down in his chair.
Pan smiled at him, entertained by his open mouth and wide eyes, looking at her as though this was some sort of sneak attack. For the moment though, her verbal attention was on the older woman who was showing her into his office, "…so they join a cohort system and move teacher-to-teacher as they age so they can get diverse instruction."
"And it's okay that she's a little older?" the woman asked.
"We have teenagers and adults who jump in at the beginning. It's no problem at all – and we can accommodate her asthma; she wouldn't be the only student who would need extra care."
Mika smiled brightly at Pan. Trunks finally felt the opportunity to break in. "Mika – my appointment will be here any minute and…"
"Mr. Briefs, this is your appointment. Didn't you read the calendar item?"
He lifted an eyebrow and went back to his computer to read it completely. "Meeting to discuss Plus/Deltas of recent partnership efforts between Capsule Corp of Metro West and – Satan Dojos. Re: the forthcoming of additional joint ventures…" he took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. "Mika - you know who Son Pan is, right?"
"Of course, Mr. Briefs. She came by just the other day," Mika said matter-of-factly. "But I thought it might be one of those 'aesthetic' partnerships that Ms. Briefs is always talking about, and I know the Sons are old friends. Plus, Ms. Son offered to talk to me about getting Lydia into her Metro West dojo." She put her hand over the side of her mouth, feigning as though she were telling him a secret. "We've been trying to get her in for over a year. I don't think I mind taking advantage of your connections this one time."
Pan smiled apologetically. "The waitlist is getting a little overwhelming. We're trying to open new locations to help," she said. "Anyway, I'll give registration your son's number so they can find Lydia the best cohort for her age."
"Thank you!" Mika said delightedly, leaving them alone shortly afterward.
When Pan turned her attention to him, he had his elbows on the table and was hiding his face in his hands. She wasn't sure if he was flustered to see her, angry, or just tired. "That was bribery," he said.
"A little – but I could've gotten her grandkid in a lot earlier if you'd told me."
He put his hands down in front of him, looking at her straight in the eye; she was a bit surprised by that, actually. She was expecting more avoidance, considering how their last meeting had ended. She would note that he seemed a little paler than normal, but she was aiming to catch him off guard, in hopes that she would get to say her piece before his brain could come up with an excuse to push her out of his office.
"Why are you here? And why three hours?" he asked. She could hear the irritated tone in his voice, but he wasn't exactly hiding it on his face either.
She sat down across from him, crossing her legs and clearing her throat before she started with what she really had come for. "To talk about last weekend," she said before explaining further, "but you can relax. I don't think you'll disagree with what I have to say – I hope."
"You could've called," he said, already feeling the losing battle against the strained and embarrassed body language he was sure to exude during the rest of her visit. "It would've been easier - for both of us," he continued honestly.
"Easier, sure, but – I needed to be here in person," she argued, "to make sure you could look me in the eye again." He had been making eye contact with her since she'd started speaking. But calling attention to it had ironically made him want to look away. He leaned back instead, resisting the urge to run from her again. He owed her that, at least. "I would've been in sooner, but this was the only time slot you had all week," she continued. "So, when Mika said that your calendar was almost full, I guess I wanted to grab all of the extra time you had."
"Why?"
"Getting you to look at me was my first goal. I - thought it was going to take longer than this."
She wasn't off base, he told himself. He'd literally fled from the gravity room as though his life depended on it. He was sure that hadn't presented a good impression of him and his ability to handle things like a mature adult. He felt authentic regret for the way he took off, shooting off some verbal garbage he couldn't even remember before leaving her behind on the floor by herself.
"I'm sorry…" he started.
"I don't need to hear that again," she interrupted, misunderstanding his quiet tone. He conceded her silence though, allowing her to continue. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and continued. "You only need to hear that you're terrible for a person once for it to really sink in."
He nodded. She was pissed, but again, he couldn't blame her. "I didn't really mean it like that," he confessed. "But I was on autopilot – not really thinking and…"
"No, I don't think you were," she agreed. "But Trunks, I'm not here to relive the gravity room floor." His brow furrowed questioningly. He legitimately didn't understand. "I'm here because I still want to be friends – and I know that's very hard for some people to do after something like this. So – my genius plan was to sit here with you as a captive audience until you were comfortable around me again – at least, for three hours, anyway. But if I need to, I'll come back and do it a second time until we can figure something…"
"No," he said emphatically, cutting her nervous speech short.
She fell silent, allowing the interruption, her stomach fluttering while she awaited his response. In the gravity room, she was sure he'd stopped just one step short of telling her he couldn't get past this enough to want to be in her life at all. All of the other tropes and cliché's he spouted were terrible enough on their own, but that would've been the dagger through her chest. He hadn't said it, but she still wasn't entirely sure if that was because he didn't actually mean it, or if his brain just hadn't been working enough to form the words at the time.
He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his desk. He sighed heavily as he considered his reply. A week hadn't seemed very long, but it had granted him enough time for some perspective.
"I'm actually really happy to hear that," he said, although his expression looked uneasy as the words left his mouth, appearing as though it was difficult for him to admit it.
"You are?"
"You tried to talk to me in the gravity room," he said, "and I was so far up my own ass, I didn't want to bring attention to it. If I had, maybe this – this wouldn't have gone as far as it did."
She smiled lightly, appreciating his admission. "It's better – I think – to bring it out in the open, than to let it fester and disrupt something good."
Red laced his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his head, his standard tell that he was fairly mortified. "Yeah, well, it's pretty open now," he said. She nodded in agreement, hoping her face wasn't as visibly flushed as his was.
"So – then where…?" He trailed off, but she knew where he was going with his question.
"I don't want to try to act like this didn't happen," she said, "but I do want to be part of your life, if you're okay with that. I know you're busy – but sparring again with you … it felt like – before…" she paused, taking a deep breath to steady some emotion that percolated inside of her. "…when you'd meet Goten at our house in the mountains, I'd follow along as best I could, and we'd be out until Grandma made us take a dinner break."
He remembered those days clearly and with a lot of fondness, but the dissonance between how long ago those days felt to be and how much time had actually passed was discomforting. It was as though he was remembering another lifetime – and like he was an entirely different person. She certainly was.
"So, if there's some way we can work through this and get to the point where we can do that again – I'd like that a lot. And maybe a little more often than once a decade."
He took a deep breath. He couldn't imagine stepping back into the gravity room anytime soon, even without her. Their time there had been intense; he had spent the last few nights trying very hard not to think of it, and ending up very short on sleep because of his failed efforts. Even the room itself was sure to bring back certain feelings for a little while.
"Yeah, someday," he said quietly, staring down at this desk.
She bit her lip and shifted in her chair again. "Soon?"
He pushed the thick-rimmed glasses up his nose as he stumbled to reply. She felt impatience boiling inside of her as her stomach turned. It was taking him too long to answer.
"Uh…" he started, revealing continued anxiety with the idea of being close with her again.
She shook her head. "Still not there?"
The features on her face that had finally resumed some of their brightness had grown a bit dull again as her lips sank into a frown. He wasn't very good at this type of conversation, but the truth was, he'd never bothered to have one before. He'd always just given up when it was over. No one had ever been important enough to him that he could push aside romantic feelings, attraction, and the strangeness of separating just so he could keep them in his life. He wondered if Pan realized how special that made her, but he knew he'd been doing a piss-poor job at doing anything to make her feel it.
"I need some time for that," he answered truthfully, "but – eventually..."
He still very much wanted to be around her. Her energy, luster, and her fight were all things that made him appreciate her. It lifted him up, made him feel younger, freer, and more in touch the often-abandoned half of him that she excited the most. Maybe he'd been misreading his feelings from the beginning. There was no doubt in either of their minds that he was attracted to her, but maybe he'd just wanted to be close to her and her energy and picked sex as the incorrect avenue for that closeness. He felt good when he was with her. That's all he really needed – a relatable friend.
Like Goten…
She shifted again, the over-sized yellow sweater she'd been wearing slid down a porcelain, bare shoulder, making the trail of her neck up to her black hair look impossibly long.
No, not at all like Goten, he admitted to himself.
He was going to have to work through this part of himself before they could really get back to normal, but as she sat in front of him, her brown eyes wearing down his active brain cells again, he realized that was going to be more of a chore than he wanted to admit.
"I am glad you came," he said honestly after some silence. "There was a very brief second when I'd had the courage to call you, but I didn't have your number. I wanted to tell you – that I hoped you didn't hate me, that I still wanted to be around for you, and even though we shouldn't try going down that road again, I didn't want it to ruin things either."
"Why didn't you ask Uncle for it?" she asked.
"Not exactly the voice I wanted to hear at the time."
"Ah," she said simply in understanding. She held out her hand. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing, but he eventually recognized her request for what it was. He unlocked his phone and handed it to her.
She quickly added herself as a contact and gave it back to him, trying her best to push down the sour feeling she'd had when she saw his wallpaper picture. He still hadn't changed it from the sweet couple's portrait he'd taken the year before – and he'd looked so happy in it with her. Pan knew that was going to be something she would have to get over if this was to work. He was going to be with someone else, maybe even that particular woman again, and as Videl had said, she would have to watch it all from the front row. She was lying to herself if she thought that was ever going to be easy.
"It was a really good 'road' though, wasn't it?" she brazenly asked, her abrupt question cutting through their silence and hitting him like a bulldozer.
He smiled despite his wishes, red returning to his face. She has no idea, he thought, though he neither confirmed it nor denied it verbally. A satisfied smirk appeared on her lips in reaction to his silence. Or maybe she does… he thought, cursing the sudden rush of blood that line of thinking brought with it. A week might've allowed him some perspective, but it didn't ameliorate source of his mistake during their Saturday spar. If anything, the memory of it had only had time to really soak in, causing him plenty of restlessness.
"So, are we okay?" he asked.
He was growing a little impatient. He told himself it was because he had a lot of work to do and realized he could have the time back if she left, but he already knew that was another silly lie one half of him was telling the other. The wind beckoning from the window was almost too much to bear as he thought about leaping into the air through it so he could help clear his mind again. The more she sat there, the more his thoughts drifted to the short white shorts she was wearing that showed off her legs, and the way her eyes seemed to shine even under his terrible office lighting.
"Are we?" she asked, checking her watch. "Because I still have well over two hours of your time if we need it."
"Pan, I can't sit here for two hours and just talk…"
"Okay – well, do you have any games? Or do you want to watch a movie?" she asked. He scoffed and chortled wryly. She was really set on making sure he felt comfortable with her presence around him before she left. "It's a really nice day; we could go for a flight."
That got his attention. He'd been thinking of it all morning – and if they had more than two hours, it was plenty of time. But I should take that time back and get some stuff done, he thought to himself, remembering the email he'd never gotten to finish and the number of new ones that had come in just during his brief phone call with Goten.
Then again, flying was a relatively mundane activity. It required no physical contact and unless you were loud, it even impeded conversation. And it was an energy burn. This might actually be a good thing for establishing some normality between them. If anything, it would help him relax; it always did.
He looked from her to the window and then back again and she smiled. She could already see the answer on his mind, and the mischievous side of him, which had grown too quiet in his increasing age, was quickly winning the war in his conscience. With a bounce of excitement, she leapt out of her chair. He followed, putting away his pointless glasses, tie, and suit jacket, and rolling up the sleeves to his expensive shirt.
She jumped out the window first, hovering a few feet over and waiting for him. Part of her wondered if he would chicken out at the last minute, but she smiled widely when he proved that fear wrong, appearing in the window before floating up to meet her.
"So – where are we going?" he asked.
She shrugged, "just pick a direction. Or are you not up for some spontaneity?"
He crossed his arms as though he was about to argue with her assertation, but found that he couldn't. "It's been a while."
She shook her head and made the choice herself, implying with a short look back that he should follow. The breeze immediately served to blow away some of his anxiety about the work he'd left behind and the company he was with, the warm sun beaming down on him and reminding him of what this had felt like and why he'd done this so much when he was younger. His arms uncrossed and his eyes closed, and once she was content that he was finally going to let go a little, she silently encouraged them to go faster.
The landscape blurred underneath them as the two streaks flew through the afternoon sky. The topography changed, then changed again, entire regions flashing underneath them as the sped around the world. Trunks' heart was lifting, and he realized that a smile had been on his lips without him noticing for a while. This was something he hadn't known he'd needed; the burdens of the last week, his uneasiness about her, everything piling up at work – it was all gone, replaced with the sound of rushing wind and her smile.
She slowed just a bit, so they would line up and she could examine his face with some subtlety, amazed by the change that had suddenly filled his features. He looked more like the man she remembered than he had since he'd walked in the dojo that night. He looked – like he was actually having fun.
His purple hair stirred in the wind, the two stubborn strands in front brushing by his azure eyes as he focused on his path ahead. A smirk laced his features that immediately reminded her of how much he resembled Vegeta at times. The only part of him that clashed with her memories of him was his clothes. Business attire wasn't exactly what she remembered him for. The only part of his muscular form she could see was well-defined forearms beneath his rolled-up sleeves. He was, despite slackened training, still surprisingly strong, leaving her to surmise that he got around to more exercise than she thought he did. She could see the evidence of that under the tank he'd worn during the spar, and she could feel it in the grip he'd had on her while they'd been on the floor. She'd even had a few bruises on her hips in the following days, little black and blue reminders of how desperately he'd needed her at the time.
He seemed to feel her stare on him because his eyes suddenly met hers. She looked away immediately, thankful the wind would cool the heat from her cheeks. It would be less painful for her in the long run if she could stop entertaining that particular memory as fast as possible. They had just started to find equilibrium again – and those thoughts only made her want to bring back the imbalance.
"Do you know where Korin's tower is from here?" she asked.
He stopped in mid-air, looking around him to try and get his bearings. The air was colder, and the dark, rocky landscape indicated they were likely in the northern mountains. He pointed in a particular direction and she nodded a confirmation.
"Wanna race?" she asked playfully.
He considered the challenge, but before he could answer, she flashed into her golden form. More internal debate followed, as he warned himself to be careful. "Just to Korin's?"
She nodded. "But – you have to promise me not to cheat this time," she said.
With a whiny tone, he scratched his head and complained. "You're faster than I am at that level. How is that fair?"
"Try harder, then," she said with a shrug to indicate it wasn't her problem.
He scoffed in mock offense, and then powered up. In a flash, he was also Super Saiyan, and they were off. He'd been right; she was incredibly fast. It's not like there were a lot of female Saiyans in existence to compare her to, but the differences in her form versus his were still surprising – although part of him wondered if this was a gift unique to her. Gohan's power had at one time manifested differently than anyone else's, so it would make sense if she turned out to be a bit different than the normal as well.
He could barely see the ground underneath them anymore as they both sped up, putting the majority of their power into their flight. He was cheating a bit, using her ki to guide him so he could just focus on power output instead of where he was going. He was falling behind her steadily, and could only follow in her wake of energy as though he could draft behind her. Before long, the supernaturally high support for the tower came into view and at their speed, it would take just a second or two longer to get there. He powered up as far as he could go without pushing over the edge to the next level, gaining just a little bit of distance. By the time they crossed the base of the tower, he was right at her heels, but it wasn't enough.
She stopped a short distance afterwards, dropping out of her transformation. He was comforted by the fact that she was just as out of breath as he was. It hadn't been quite as one-sided as he was concerned it would be, but the sweat dripping down his back reminded him that he still hadn't won despite putting in a lot more effort than he wanted to while wearing work clothes.
She stared at him, an accusatory look on her face, "you were about to cheat again!"
He laughed, holding up his hands innocently as he tried to catch his breath. "I didn't! I just – toed the line a little." She twisted her lips and crossed her arms, looking at him critically. He couldn't help but laugh at the serious expression on her face as she stared at him skeptically though narrowed eyes. "I didn't!" he swore again. "And you won anyway, so what's the problem?"
She relaxed slightly, and without saying an additional word, began flying again. He took a moment longer to catch his breath, then followed after her, thankful she was both moving at a more casual pace and heading back towards the warmer climate. The sweat on his back would dry in the breeze from their flight, but it would also cool him off, and would get cold this far north.
Before long, they were back over an ocean. She flew under him, turning so she was facing up him so they could speak more effectively. "I should've won by further than that," she lamented casually. "I'm supposed to be fast. I should be able to fly circles around you," she said, literally spiraling in circles around him as she spoke before arriving back in front of him.
He smiled at the acrobatics, noting how unfairly easily her stamina had returned after the exhausting sprint. "You are – really. I'm not just saying that."
She casually waved him off and grew contemplative. He watched her face twist in thought and he could tell she was replaying it in her mind. Theories regarding genetics and how they played into what the transformation looked like for each person suddenly spilled from her mouth, faster than he could keep up with. His specialty was technology, mechanics, and engineering, with some physics and natural sciences mixed in. Bra was the genetics expert, sharing her time between medicine and the medical-based technologies Capsule Corp was developing. But as Pan continued, he made no effort to interrupt her and tell her this, instead listening intently to her unique ideas about their shared ancestry.
He was listening to every word she said, growing especially appreciative when she told him just a little bit about how she'd managed the transformation in the first place. He could tell there were a few cards she was still holding close to her chest there, but he'd gotten the gist of it. He related a little too well – to both the frustrations of relationship problems, having too much work, and experiencing the near suffocation of dealing with the stifling combination all at once. It would've been enough for him too, if he hadn't already crossed that line when he was a child.
Although the cause of her transformation was fraught with negative emotions, her face lit up when she spoke about it. It had been one of her lifelong goals, and finally achieving it was more important than school, or any person in the world, outside of her family. Her eyes glowed as she described the original eruption of power, and how it felt, her lips curling into a wide smile when she mentioned feeling a hint of the presence of a certain someone nearby when it had happened.
He didn't even question her about that last part. Goku seemed to have free reign of the afterlife. It wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest that he'd been watching from wherever it was the gods stored him in that realm. Instead, Trunks simply smiled and nodded along to the story, allowing her to continue to tell him about the incident and how deservedly proud of herself she felt.
Trunks was beginning to feel uneasy as he watched her from above, listening to her speak with a larger love of life and pride in her heritage than he believed he'd ever felt before. He thought she'd gotten a little closer to him as they flew along, but she was almost skimming the top of the water. She hadn't moved towards him; he had moved towards her.
There were bubbles in his stomach as an uncomfortable and now familiar desire rose inside him. He wasn't transformed. There was no over-excitement caused by the increase in power, nothing to cling to that would excuse what was going on for anything other than it was – and it wasn't just physical attraction. He just saw her, for everything she was and always had been – and that was what he found himself drawn towards. It wasn't how much she'd changed; it was how much she'd stayed the same.
Before his thoughts could go any further, she lowered her hand into the water below her, sending a well-aimed splash upward and at his face. Water dripped from his hair as his wide eyes blinked in confusion.
"What was that for?" he asked incredulously.
"You looked distracted," she said. Her words seemed relaxed, but in her mind, alarm bells had gone off again. He had a look on his face she didn't like, indicating there was something he was thinking about outside of their conversation. He'd looked so normal a moment ago. She was hoping the tension between them hadn't returned, or that he was feeling regret over this innocent and carefree time they'd spent together.
His shirt was completely soaked, he realized, hoping the sun would dry it out before he got back so he wouldn't have to change. "I was just trying to listen," he argued.
Don't do this to me again, Trunks, she thought, remembering the headaches and the uncertainty that had filled her days and nights.
It had been miserable, and it wasn't until she'd spoken with her mother and decided to talk to him that it had grown marginally better. It was the smart decision, to confront this issue and remain friends, but both of them had to be committed to that plan for it to work. It would be too easy for them to move on from this without ever resolving the tension that threatened their long history.
I can't lose you over this.
He abruptly grabbed her arm, pulling her around into a barrel roll. She yelped in surprise, but immediately realized why he'd done it. Their flight path had taken them near to an archipelago, and the ocean under them was growing increasingly littered with rocks and small islands that jutted out of the deep water. If he hadn't pulled her out of the way, she would've gone head-first into a tall boulder. It wasn't as though she'd never been thrown through rock and dirt before, but it would've been a painful end to the afternoon.
"Now who's distracted?" he asked with a quiet chuckle.
They were still flying quickly through the air, just above the waterline. She was still below him, and he was above, but he had pulled her in to him in order avoid the obstacle – and even though they were well clear of it, he hadn't let her go. Water lightly sprayed from their wake upward, forming a light mist that wet their hair and clothes; it didn't change his course.
His face suddenly fell, his brow knitting tightly together. If his grasp on her hadn't been so tender and feather-light, she would've thought he was angry. He was, actually. She could feel it in the energy radiating off his form – but it wasn't directed at her. Her face softened sympathetically in contrast to his. She could see the war in his eyes and was frustrated with herself for not taking a stand of her own.
Time seemed to slow down, warmth rising between them again almost instantly. Her heart raced in her chest as his arm wrapped slowly and cautiously around her waist, pulling her even closer. His hand was cold from the wind and the water, yet she felt it leave a trail of heat as it moved around her back and ribs.
Her eyes met his questioningly, wanting desperately to ask him to be sure of it before he did anything, but the words never formed. Truthfully, she didn't want to give him a reason to stop, regardless of how much they might regret making this mistake a second time.
She raised her hand, touching the side of his face gently before moving it around to the back of his head. His breath quickened as goosebumps formed on the surface of his skin. The decision was mutually made, although much more tentative than the first time, and their lips met each other's once again.
Without the over-excitement of the transformation driving them, he thought he could go a little more cautiously and make sure this was what they both wanted, but as her familiar taste and scent filled his senses, the urgency inside of him grew. All he could think about was last time, the salty taste of sweat on her skin, the feeling of 100gs pressing them together, and her energy surrounding and merging with his on the gravity room floor.
The visceral reaction was not nearly as vivid as it had been the first time, but the memories of that day were combining with new information to steer them straight towards the same seemingly inevitable conclusion. The wind soared past them as they continued their flight track across the waters off the shore of the continent and back towards land, and although their path was sloppy, they managed to split just enough focus to avoid hitting anything again.
He was hesitant at first, his careful touch reaching up under her sweater along her back and down her ribs. Her vocal affirmations were just loud enough to hear over the breeze and encouraged him to continue. As his actions became more desperate, hers did too, until there was no doubt in their minds that she needed him as badly as he needed her.
A trail of clothes was soon abandoned behind them as they continued their path, some pieces on the ground, some floating in a nearby lake, and some potentially scattered even further. Once their distractions with each other became too great to stay in the air, they clumsily stumbled to an outcropping on the side of a nearby mountain.
His lips sent fire up her spine, his hands exploring every inch of her, much more liberated than they had been before, as though he was finally granting himself permission to entertain his curiosity. Without the transformation pushing him to rush towards the conclusion, he was free to test and measure her reactions, studying her face carefully as he touched her. She could see it in his face – a desire to learn and a patience for taking his time that hadn't been there before. In the ocean of abstract half-thoughts and sensations flooding her mind, she wondered if he was already planning on doing this again someday.
Despite the frustration and confusion that had haunted her for the last week, she found herself hoping that was true. A smile formed on her parted lips at the thought, sending his mind reeling. He wanted to know what she was thinking, but the mystery behind those brown eyes of hers was sapping away his energy to think.
It wasn't long before he collapsed onto the ground next to her, lying shoulder-to-shoulder next to her as they both caught their breath. He was not making any move to leave or to run at the moment, but when she carefully glanced over, she caught a glimpse of that same troubled expression he'd had on his face when he was in her presence as of late, and his eyes were fixated on the sky as though he was deep in thought. The grin she'd been enjoying on his face just a second ago was gone, and she had no idea why it had been so fleeting.
"Everything you said in your office…" she started, unable to hide the irritation in her tone at seeing his expression fall back into one of potential remorse.
"I know."
She exhaled through her nose and turned, leaning up on her elbow so she could look him in the eye. "I'm – confused."
"Me too," he said simply.
He didn't look away from her, or avoid her stare like the last time. Instead, he reached up, plucking a stray piece of grass from the top of her messy hair absentmindedly even though he was still keeping his inner-debate to himself.
Something had changed since the gravity room. He was acting differently towards her, and even though his features were locked into a look of concern, he didn't seem to project the shame he had about his actions the previous week. She should be relieved and maybe even hopeful, but she couldn't get a read on him this way. She had no idea where she stood.
He sat up, surveying the area for their clothes. Their pants were up there with them – fortunate since his extra clothes were stored in his pocket. His shirt had blown off the side, hers was likely several hundred meters away, and their shoes were anyone's guess, as they'd kicked them off early.
"We made a mess," he said dryly.
She'd slipped her shorts back on, but pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling self-conscious when she realized that her sweater was nowhere to be seen. It was an odd feeling to suddenly feel shy in front of someone afterward, but there was also something a little too vulnerable about trying to talk to him about the seriousness of the situation when she was completely topless.
"Trunks…" she started, not sure how to continue without saying the same damn things she'd already said all over again.
"What do you want to do?" he asked, interrupting her entire thought process.
She was shocked with the abrupt question for multiple reasons. For starters, she'd never been asked that before in this context. She immediately knew the answer she wanted to give, but pulled it back from the edge of her tongue, instead supplying the response she thought wouldn't send him running again.
"I – I want you to make up your mind," she said honestly. "I can't keep going back and forth between this and – feeling like you never want to see me again. It was hard enoughdealing with that once and it took a lot for me to come to your office today and meet the issue face-to-face."
"Fair," he said with a slight head nod, looking up to meet her eyes. She almost looked away when he continued. "But that's not what I asked."
Her mouth opened in surprise at his continued insistence. She gathered up the bravery she didn't know she had before she answered. "I would – I would like to try…" she trailed off, feeling as though her heart had seized within her chest. This was every card in her hand, and she felt more exposed by simply admitting this than the fact that she was half-naked on the top of a tall hill. "Why is this my decision anyway? You're the one who ran away last time," she suddenly snapped, her brow furrowing in anger.
He smiled softly, recognizing her defensive temper for what it was, and finding the nostalgic wave it brought with it oddly comforting. "Yeah…" he simply said in an entirely neutral tone. He jumped off the ledge, landing down below and retrieving his now tattered, expensive shirt, which had caught on a thorny bush near the ground.
'Yeah?!' What the hell is that supposed to mean? She inwardly seethed, watching him getting ready to leave yet again. Topless or not, she was ready to chase him down for a little bit of elaboration or she was going to lose her mind wondering what was going through his.
She stood, wrapping her arms around her chest as though she was ready to take off after him despite her state of undress. Before she could voice more frustration, he levitated back up to her again, holding out his shirt for her. "Here – until you track down yours."
"You don't need this?"
He laughed softly. "I have another wardrobe in my pocket."
"Of course, you do." She gratefully took it from him and wrapped it around herself, wishing it didn't carry his smell as strongly as she could already tell it did.
"Pan…" he started cautiously, looking as though the next words out of his mouth would be unwelcome to her. She braced herself. "Whatever happens - can we keep this between us? At least – until we figure it out?'
She released a breath of relief. The temptation was there to make some incredibly sarcastic remark about how often she spoke with her family about the men she was bedding, but she held the comment back.
"Not a bad idea," she said instead. She was being honest in her agreement, not wanting to become an obstacle between their families unless they were sure this would amount to something more than a confusing fling.
He echoed her relieved sigh, thankful she likely shared his feelings on that specific issue instead of taking it the wrong way. "I have to get back to work, but would…" he started again, nervousness once more welling up in his stomach for reasons he couldn't quite comprehend, given who he was talking to. He laughed at himself, attempting to quickly get over a sensation he hadn't felt since he was in school. She cocked her head in confusion, wondering what was so funny. "Would you want to come over? Tomorrow night?"
Her eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"
"Uh - yeah," he confirmed, chuckling to himself again in reaction to his own nerves. Asking anyone on a date was anxiety-inducing. Asking her produced a strangeness combined with it that made it nearly impossible for his mouth to form the words necessary to make that intention clearer to her.
It took her a moment to interpret what he was really asking. It was so far out of context for them, the simple question had puzzled her for a moment. She smiled once it clicked, red rising to her cheeks. "Okay," she answered softly.
Despite her response, his eyebrow twitched, and although they had just made a fairly large decision to the contrary, she could see the modicum of doubt and uncertainty in his wished there was something else she could do to put him at a little bit of ease, but this was unchartered territory for both of them. The risk of it would be in their peripheral vision the entire time.
The instant the negative thought crossed her mind, his actions quashed it as he suddenly leaned in for a small, relatively chaste kiss. His warm lips served to soften the edge of her doubt, filling her blood with the excitement of the potential ahead of them. When they parted, he silently studied her features, as though he was confirming the decision for himself. His lips curved upward softly and she couldn't stop hers from mirroring the subtle smile. For the moment, that was all the confirmation either of them needed.
He took off from there, leaving her behind once more but in a completely different state than he had before. The situation required cautious optimism, but all she really wanted to do was shout at the sky in excitement. For the first time, she looked at the giant question mark ahead of them with positivity, praying the feelings coursing through her at that moment weren't blinding her from seeing a very bad decision.