"Tell me again why we couldn't put this stuff in a capsule," Taani said, panting as she put a heavy and overflowing box of papers and supplies down Pan's kitchen table.
Pan put down a stack of three she'd been carrying of the same size next to it, looking apologetically at her friend. "I didn't have one on me."
Taani huffed, wiping sweat from her brow before putting her hands on her hips and shooting Pan a disbelieving stare. "You mean to tell me you just had the CEO of Capsule Corp's tongue down your throat and you couldn't be bothered to ask for one?"
Pan's apologetic expression morphed into a frown. "First – that's not what that was. Second – I doubt he carries product samples around with him everywhere he goes."
"And then it took you half an hour to find your key…"
"It was 15 minutes, and it sank to the bottom of my bag," she lied. The truth was, she'd only used her front door once and that was the day she moved in. She had no idea where her door key was and had to break her door knob to get in, which she'd tried and failed to do secretively.
"…and all because you still refuse to fly in front of me."
Pan crossed her arms defensively, rubbing the back of her neck. "What? Why would you think…"
Taani laughed loudly and unapologetically at her. "Pan, everyone in our group has known you can fly since undergrad. You're really bad at hiding it. Especially since you don't drive at all and still manage to get around better than I do."
Pan sighed, watching her friend walk into her kitchen and start digging through her mostly-empty refrigerator. She was trying to think of an argument, but the longer it took, she knew the less convincing it would be. Mom was right. I can't keep a secret to save my life.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew before?"
Taani shrugged, peeking up from the fridge door. "Because it wasn't really my business – except now that I've lugged that heavy box up three floors, it is my business. Pan – where is your wine? Or beer? Anything? I want to get you tipsy before you start spilling information, and this job you have me doing needs something alcoholic."
"I don't have anything. And I don't get tipsy," she said.
She closed the fridge door and looked her with a deep, incredulous frown. "I've seen you drink a lot."
"I didn't say I don't drink. I said I don't get tipsy. It's a – metabolic thing. I end up burning through it before it can do anything."
Taani chuckled sarcastically. "Right – so you're telling me there's a downside to having washboard abs?"
"Um – sort of," she said uncomfortably, quickly changing the subject before she could accidentally spill anything else. "What else can I get you? I haven't actually been home very much, so I don't have anything but tea and water."
She threw up her hands defeatedly. "Well, if we're not going to have any real fun, I guess just a cup of tea."
Pan made the tea as requested and then spent the next few minutes organizing what tasks she needed to get done and delegating those to Taani that she could. The other woman didn't work for the dojo and didn't have any experience with martial arts, but she could write names on certificates, and help her sort award packages into groups for the students of different ages. They settled into their tasks as Pan ordered supplies on her laptop and Taani started copying down a student list.
"Your handwriting is so much better than mine," Pan said. Taani looked at her as though it were an empty compliment, but Pan argued, "no – it is. And the kids will feel like this is so much more 'official' than they would if those were my scratches."
"Well, now that I've got your seal of approval on the quality of my grunt work, why don't you start from the beginning?"
Pan raised an eyebrow. "You're not really that interested…"
"Pan – I swear, if you're not going to pay me in money or wine, you'd better start talking." She brushed her thick, curly hair behind her shoulder. "Besides – I want to hear you say I was right back at the bar that night."
Pan's lips slowly curled into a smile. "You were right – apparently," she said. Those were the easiest words she'd ever had to eat.
Taani smiled back, "Ah… so being an 'old family friend' wasn't quite the stumbling block you thought it was going to be."
Pan didn't reply immediately, but her smile didn't falter. Not completely…
"So…? What happened?"
Pan took a deep breath before starting into the story, taking a lot of care to provide a censored version. It was a little difficult to maneuver around certain topics, such as their shared heritage and how exactly it felt like it played into their decisions in the gravity chamber, but she managed to keep the other woman interested enough that she didn't seem to notice the gaps in information. She started out with a brief version of their history, although they'd gone over some of that in the bar. She told her that it had been a potential one-time mistake, which turned into an unexpected reversal the next time she saw him, and then went into a first real date, to be followed by many more afterward, and now they were in a pleasant limbo, just waiting to make sure it worked.
"…and?" Taani said, once she knew Pan was finished.
"'And' what?"
"Come on – give me the dirty details. I know you come from a famous family yourself, but he's an actual celebrity. I want to be one of the few women in the world who know exactly how…"
"No!" Pan protested loudly.
"You told me everything about Muda," Taani argued back.
"Mostly to keep you from making the same mistake," she argued.
"Bull," Taani said with a staccato laugh. "I've been with Yari too long for that – and you know I don't like the cradle robbers like you do."
Pan bit her lip; she had her there. "I'm not going into that…"
Taani sat back with a frustrated sigh. "At least tell me if it's good."
She smiled again, looking at Taani from over the screen of her computer in hope that a silent confirmation would be enough. She couldn't exactly go into details for other reasons aside from discretion. She didn't want to reveal how they had similar energies, or appetites, or that they both had enough experience with ki manipulation to make things interesting in a way a normal person couldn't understand. Whether or not she wanted to share was irrelevant.
"Pan," Taani started, scooting closer to her as though there were other people who might overhear her next question. "Are you – in love with him? Because you're sure as hell acting differently with him than with Muda and you thought that asshole was it for a long time."
Pan blinked a few times, her brain nearly short-circuiting when hearing the question. She scoffed nervously, but didn't offer immediate denial. "Well, he is different. I mean – he's been like family…"
"That wasn't my question," she said. "I'm not talking about the puppy love from when you were three years-old. I'm talking about real feelings."
Pan's eyes fell to her keyboard, her fingers tapped softly against the keys. Her heart was pounding in her chest with excitement at the thought, but she also felt inexplicably sad for reasons she couldn't quite figure out. "Yes," she answered simply.
A smile grew on Taani's lips, contrasting the sudden frown on Pan's. "That's great!" she exclaimed, making Pan wonder why she didn't feel that way about it too. "Do you know how he feels?"
Pan sighed. "No," she said honestly, and when the word slipped out of her mouth and she was forced to be honest with herself, she realized why she felt an unpleasant weight at the start of this part of the conversation. "He's said I'm 'extremely important' to him," she said, adding it almost more to make herself feel better than for Taani's sake. She knew what she was setting herself up for if things didn't work out. She thought she'd been careful, but this conversation had illuminated how wrong she'd been. There was no guarding herself against it; she was already in too deep.
"Oh. Well – two months is not a lot of time…" Taani said casually. "And I'm sure the whole thing was as much of a surprise to him as it was to you."
"It's gone by so quickly… I'm sure it has for him too. Plus, I think certain things will probably have to happen before he's willing to figure that out for himself," she continued, again feeling as though she was trying to convince herself more than her friend.
Taani cocked her head to the side. "Like what?"
"For starters – we're not telling my uncle or anyone in the family for a while."
Taani chortled in surprise, "you really buried the lede. Why not?"
"It's complicated," she mumbled. "Trunks doesn't think they'd react well considering our history. And – it hasn't been that long since his last serious relationship, so, they'd be concerned…"
Taani's eyes suddenly suspiciously narrowed as she processed the last thing Pan had said. "How long?" she asked.
Pan shrugged. "Sometime near the end of spring."
Taani nodded and twisted her lips. She had darker skin than Pan did. Her face was browner, and held rich amber tone which never seemed to show random color changes as easily as Pan's did. So, it came by some surprise when Pan looked back up at her friend, and swore she'd suddenly grown a little pale.
"What?" Pan asked.
Taani suddenly went back to writing the names of Pan's students on certificates of completion, focusing overly-carefully on them as she slowly drew out their names. "I looked into him a little after the bar," she confessed, refusing to look up at Pan as she said it. "In the past there's always been a consistent girl on his arm – petite, dark hair, dark eyes – kind of reminds me of you, actually. The entertainment rags all seem to think she was a childhood sweetheart. Is that her?"
The same feeling she'd had when Videl cornered her rose back in her chest. "Yeah," she answered, feeling the blood drain from her face as well.
"Hmm… and did he say why they broke up?"
"Rumor has it that she didn't want to get married or something. He hasn't really talked about it," Pan answered dismissively.
"Ah," she simply said. "So – some of these kids have really long names…"
"Taani…" Pan said, going against her better wisdom by keeping this topic going. "What's wrong?"
"Why would you say that? There's nothing wrong," Taani denied, but the way her brow arched in a concerned expression across her normally carefree and happy face said otherwise.
Pan sighed and shut her computer, temporarily giving up on her progress. "My mother, you know – The Great Detective? She figured it out somehow – and when she confronted me about it, she had the exact same look on her face that you do right now. But - she's my mom; it's her job to be paranoid. You're supposed to be the fearless, daring, influential friend who always talks me into making reckless decisions."
Taani laughed loudly for a moment. "You don't need any help making reckless decisions, Pan. Remember, I tried to talk you out of seeing Muda." Her laughter died down and she sighed, putting down her pen and taking a long sip of tea to stall a bit before continuing with her answer to Pan's question. "It's probably nothing – but – just be careful."
Pan laughed sardonically at her friend's familiar choice of words, rubbing the bridge of her nose as a headache suddenly came on. "Okay, why…?" she asked, almost hoping she didn't elaborate.
"Childhood sweethearts, first loves – they aren't that easy to let go of. And you came along at a very convenient time for him to pretend to move on from that," she said. Her tone was laced with so much sympathy, it was difficult to listen to for more than just the words her statement contained.
Pan picked up her mug, taking a sip just to help swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.
"Look," Taani continued, her voice shifting to how it normally sounded. "Don't listen to me. There are only two directions you can go anyway: either break it off now in fear of something happening – or keep going and find out where it takes you. You're young, you're having fun – so – just see what happens."
"You think so?" she asked. Those were the words she expected from her friend, but now it almost felt as though she was saying them more to placate her than anything.
Taani nodded. "The sooner you start telling people, the better though. Just keep that in mind."
"Why?"
"Because the more people who know who are close to you, the more accountable he is for breaking your heart, and I'm sure he knows that. If he starts telling everybody, you'll know he's moving in the right direction."
Pan relaxed slightly, but while Videl's warnings had faded with time, she had a feeling her friend's would persevere much longer. Taani changed the subject after that and became even more talkative than normal, leading Pan to believe she paradoxically had more to say on the subject, but was nervously filling the silence with other less important subjects on Pan's behalf. She decided to allow the new topics to run the rest of the night, and used the opportunity to focus on getting her work done so she could go to sleep at a reasonable time.
It was nearly midnight by the time they had gotten everything finished. Taani drove home with an empty car and Pan's repeated promises to pay her back for her work in dinner and beer. She was just about to change out of her clothes when she remembered that Trunks had told her to come over whenever she wanted. While being alone would lend her more sleep, there was genuine concern that Taani's earlier words would echo too loudly in her lonely apartment.
Despite everything in her body screaming at her to stay in her warm apartment, she took off through her window, knowing it was going to be an even earlier morning the next day because she now had to swing back by her apartment to pick up the scattered work she'd just completed. At least she'd have an empty capsule this time.
She was in the sky just long enough for the frosty air to work through her coat when she landed on his balcony, thankful to find he'd left it unlocked. He was fast asleep in bed, the city lights illuminating his muscular silhouette, making her glad she'd decided to make the extra trip, but resentful of the schedule that had kept them apart for so long.
She stripped off her clothes, carefully crawling under the sheets to avoid waking him, but the moment she settled into place, his eyes opened.
"Sorry," she said with a whisper.
He smiled and said something under his breath she couldn't quite hear, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close against him before he was out again. She turned slightly so they would be spooning, and shivered as his warm body melted away the chill from her earlier flight. The moment she began to feel warm, sleep started to win over. She was still considering Taani's warning, but being in his arms at that moment was enough to make her feel like she didn't have to worry. Taani was right that there were only two paths in front of them, and since she didn't see herself giving up something so wonderful for fear of what may happen, she was along for the ride.
. . .
Trunks' morning had come early, and now that autumn had begun setting in, the sky still had a hint of darkness to it when he woke up. It was already messing with his circadian rhythm; the grogginess and half-formed sleepy thoughts took a little longer to shake from his system. The harsh buzz of his alarm clock echoed again throughout the room of his apartment. It wasn't loud, but it was so damn annoying. He'd ruined countless alarm clocks from over-enthusiastic attempts to hit "snooze", or more purposeful, well-aimed ki blasts that were easier to produce than the simple act of raising his arm. This one was starting to ask for it too.
A strange weight on his arm and kept him from rolling over completely, so he stretched as far as he could, finally silencing the irritating noise as his brain began to clear. When he looked back, his now waking mind processed exactly what had been holding him down and he smiled. As he thought back his night, he vaguely remembered her walking in, but he hadn't been awake enough to really register her presence. Now that he knew she was there, the temptation to set his snooze for another hour was even more powerful.
He compromised. Ten minutes. Ten wouldn't hurt anything. As soon as he was about to pull her in again, she rolled over on her stomach with a moan. Choosing not to disturb her sleep, he instead decided just to lie next to her for a while. Her face was lit up with the soft sapphire hints of dawn beginning to reach over the horizon line, casting a cool light on her already pale skin. Despite the chill of the night, his bed had grown very warm while they were pressed together in sleep, so she uncaringly allowed the sheets and blanket to fall, covering only her hips and below. He could see her even, shallow breathing and the curves of her figure all the way down. The blue glow from his window seemed to highlight the scar on her back.
He smiled again, placing a feather-light touch around its edge. She sighed pleasantly, her brow now relaxed from where it had been, as he silently wondered if that small sensation had been enough to change the course of a bad dream. A small sense of shame rose in his chest as he remembered a day not so long ago when the sight of It might've brought him some distress, forcing him to slip from his comfortable denial at who exactly it was that was sharing his bed. But now, they celebrated the commonality, using it to their advantage once they figured out that the spot which normally brought lightning strikes of pain could also be used for pleasure if used just right. It was another element of her that no one else in the world was could mutually enjoy, and the excitement it now caused was one of many things that pushed away any of the guilt he'd previously felt for feeling the physical reactions he did around her.
He thought back to their conversation earlier the previous day. He wasn't lying to her and the words that he said weren't intended to simply make her feel better. After seeing her for the first time in dojo, he was bending over backwards to pretend he didn't feel the way he did, that he reacted to her the way he did despite the fact that she was Pan. But now that time had passed and they had spent so much of it together, the feelings had grown and changed, and he found that they weren't there despite the fact that she was Pan – they were there because of it.
His alarm went off again and he quickly turned it off. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him before she stretched along his sheets. "Going in already?" she asked with a yawn.
He nodded. "Busy day. I didn't hear you come in," he replied almost as a complaint. He wished he could've found the energy for her.
"I was trying not to wake you up."
"Why?" he asked with a smirk.
"You were out of it, and I know you have an early board meeting. I wanted you to have your sleep."
"Hmm," he started, "I think I'd rather be tired."
She smiled and looked up at him. Her eyes were partially obscured by her arms as she laid on her stomach, but the look on her face was unmistakable, and he found himself already physically responding to her unspoken request even though he was more than aware he was running late already. For a moment, he resisted, looking back at his clock dejectedly before looking back at her.
Just as she opened her mouth to respond, he grabbed her, rolling her in bed so that she was underneath him before she knew what was happening. She giggled, a sound rarely heard to her own ears. Without care for morning breath, their lips met almost violently, both understanding that this would be a rushed effort.
She broke apart, looking into his eyes as her hand slipped between them. "Are they going to be okay with this?"
He pulled her hips to meet his and smiled, brushing a stray strand of her short, scruffy hair from her eyes. His breath was already heavy, her attentions to him working even more effectively in the early morning hours. "They're going to have to be."
. . .
Trunks had arrived late to his meeting, flying through his office window and dumping his briefcase before picking up his dossier from a fully-prepared Mika at her desk. The board was split on whether or not his late appearance was forgivable, but the side that would hold it against him didn't always like him anyway, so he mostly ignored them in favor of getting down to business. No one complained afterward.
The pressure didn't end at the board meeting. He'd barely had a chance to sit down at his desk before the special ring tone he had for his best friend played over his phone. He answered it happily, thinking that this would be a short, fun conversation and diversion from his day. It was not.
Goten had started out in his normal, peppy tone, but Trunks could tell he was being reticent about something. His words were paused and trepidatious, and the more he spoke the worse it got. At first, he was just going over some very basic wedding planning. Trunks figured he'd have a big role, which would come with a laundry list of items to take care of, but that wasn't the reason for Goten's hesitancy. When Trunks pushed a little, he finally got to the reason he was really nervous.
"Let me meet her!" Goten had said, referring unknowingly to his niece. "It's been over a month, right? Maybe two? Long enough to take the next step. I'm sure she'd like to meet some of your friends. Women love that – it makes them feel like you want them to stick around."
Although acid boiled up in his stomach at the thought, it wasn't entirely surprising to hear it again. It would be weird for him to not have told Goten everything about a woman he'd been seeing at this point. It was also a road they'd have to go down eventually. When it was just sex, and just a powerful, physical connection, he could think of a million reasons not to tell her uncle anything, as it would likely just have resulted in a rift between them. Now that it was growing deeper, he thought he should know, and once he was honest with Goten - maybe he'd be ready to be honest with himself.
Trunks agreed to meet up with him and his fiancé at Mount Paozu for a preliminary meeting regarding formalities, promising that he would consider bringing his date. While Goten was relieved he'd gotten that far, he still sounded a little off to Trunks' ear.
He pushed again, asking if Bulma had anything to do with the request. Goten had laughed and swore that was not the case, but Trunks couldn't help but think he was hiding something more. The only other information Goten supplied was reiterating how great Trunks seemed to be feeling and how good this woman was for him. Trunks agreed, but couldn't shake the feeling there was some sort of cryptic meaning behind his words.
When they'd finally hung up, Trunks was no closer to knowing what Goten was possibly hiding, but he put it aside.
As the day progressed, Trunks was found himself fairly useless. His hands were nearly numb with anxiety, and he realized that at one point, he'd even been sweating. Mika had picked up the slack, appearing to enjoy the fact that she was useful to him again, but even as his messages piled up, he found it absolutely impossible to find the motivation to answer them.
They day slipped through his fingers, filled by imaginings of various scenarios on how this would play out, all the way from the unlikely possibility Goten would be happy about it, to the more realistic possibility that there would be an actual fight. At least Mt. Paozu's location would guarantee minimal collateral damage, and now that Pan was a Super Saiyan, they'd be able to take him on easily as a team. There was even the chance that he'd be able to talk some sense into him so he could help defend him against Gohan when that conversation happened. Trunks actually stopped breathing for a moment when that particular thought crossed his mind.
Regardless, it felt more and more like he was ready for this. That is, if Pan was.
The clock spun right past five o'clock, and then past six and seven. Before he knew it, his office was empty save the security guard on the ground level, and his motion-sensitive lights had gone off due to the darkness outside, casting his office in shadow. He shut down his computer and packed his briefcase, but was procrastinating at it, going agonizingly slowly. Although she was almost too good at quashing her ki, and he couldn't sense her from this distance, he still knew that she was in his apartment, waiting for him to come home.
The moment he flew up to his balcony window, something seemed odd. There was some kind of delicious, but strong odor coming from his kitchen, too fresh to be from a delivery, but too pleasant to be from anything Pan had cooked. He landed and walked in, seeing a cloud of white covering his entire kitchen making the air look hazy. Pan stood in the middle of it, looking dusty as flour covered her hair and clothes. Her hands were covered in some sort of substance he couldn't identify, and the cheesy smile on her face wasn't making him feel very at ease with the situation.
"What the hell happened here?" he asked, trying to figure out if he should laugh or be angry.
"Nothing I can't clean up!" she said cheerily, but with an undertone of panic that made him wonder if he should really worry or not.
He slipped off his shoes, leaving his jacket and work shirt behind so they wouldn't get caught in the whiteout currently happening on the other side of the room. Pan coughed, trying to wave the flour from the air as a little bit of it fell from her once black hair that now looked closer to a shade of gray.
"I was trying something new," she said, answering his unasked question as he pulled a finger through a line of loose flour on his countertop.
"Evidently," he said with a chuckle. "Want to tell me about it?" He waited until her eyes briefly pulled away to subtly turn off the burner that was going, knowing airborne flour and open flame weren't the best combination. He was just glad she hadn't had an explosion yet.
"My mom sent me over a recipe and some instructions on how to make my one of my favorite dishes. I had - delusions of grandeur about my skills and thought I could get it done and cleaned before you got home."
"I'm two hours late," he pointed out.
"Yeah – that didn't help," she said, cringing a bit. She tried to wipe some of the flour off her forehead with the back of her hand, managing instead only to swipe a new line of residue from the raw dough she'd been handling moments ago. He managed to stifle a chuckle, knowing that it might look like he was laughing at her (even though that wasn't entirely untrue). "I finished a first batch, but I was hoping to test them myself before you got here."
The item currently cooling on the burner was a wok, which contained a small stack of bamboo steamers. Not only had she not noticed that the burner was off, when he looked closer, he realized she'd let the water dry. He was suddenly even more relieved there hadn't been a fire.
When the opened the lid, he was greeted by a pillow of steam and a concentration of that wonderful smell. Despite her best attempts to burn down his apartment and the chaotic mess she'd made, he couldn't deny the way his mouth was starting to water. He carefully looked down at its contents, to find some little concoctions that vaguely resembled meat-filled buns.
"Baozi?" he asked.
She smiled broadly, apparently proud that he had recognized it. "I know they're not pretty," she said with a laugh. She wasn't wrong. Several of the buns had exploded either out the side or the top, being obviously over-filled. Mostly, they were misshapen blobs that appeared edible, but only in an abstract way. "I was going to try something different with the second batch, but – I messed that up."
She took the top rack of the steamer off the stack and held it out, looking up at him expectedly and nodding towards them. There was no mistaking her non-verbal cues, but he wasn't entirely sure he was brave enough to dig in. He picked one up despite his fears, peeling away the cabbage leaf on the bottom and taking a bite as he silently prayed his Saiyan stomach would not pick today to suddenly submit to food poisoning.
His eyes widened in surprise before bis brow lowered to confusion.
"What?" she asked in concern.
"Nothing. They're – good," he said in shock. "Takes me right back to Paozu."
If possible, her smile grew even larger, and he didn't miss the haze forming in her eyes. He smiled in return, happy to see her happy – and he hadn't lied. They were ugly little balls of meat, but they tasted exactly like Chichi's. "You just need practice – and a little finesse," he added sarcastically, looking around him at the mess.
"I tried taking a shortcut in the second batch. It didn't work," she said. He gave her a questioning look, choosing to finish his current Lovecraftian-looking pastry and go in for another one instead of asking it directly. "I thought I could let the mixer do the job while I worked on more filling. It exploded."
He swallowed his last bite and went to go inspect the mixer. It looked fine, but he wasn't exactly theorizing it to be equipment failure anyway. "Did – you put the flour in a little bit at a time?" he asked.
She bit her lip, looking at the ground. "Uh – I knew I was getting short on time, so I put it all in."
"But you put it on the '2' setting, right?"
She rocked back and forth on her toes, trying to avoid looking too guilty. "Again – short on time, so – '10.'"
Trunks chortled and grabbed another bun. "That would explain why my kitchen looks like the end of a gangster movie."
"I stopped it and pulled it out," she said, "and I've gone back to hand-kneading, so I think it's fixed, but I'm still not sure why the first ones all blew up when they cooked."
He turned around to her work station, where a small round of dough had been rolled out. There was a huge clump of filling in the middle. He could already see one issue. "Did you let the dough rest after kneading?"
"Yes – 40 minutes. I only just finished more filling…"
He wasn't an expert, but that seemed like close to long enough. He took a spoon, halving the amount of filling on the round of dough and putting the extra back in her mixing bowl. He then picked it up in his cupped hand, spinning the little round and creating the typical "folded" look on the top. "I know you're hungry, but if you fill them too full you just get little grenades."
"How are you doing that?" she asked in amazement as he pinched the top, completing a perfect-looking little ball.
He smiled and handed it to her to examine. "Sixteen pleats, eight plus eight, that's what Chichi always said was the perfect number." Pan opened her mouth in surprise. "I spent a lot of time on Paozu when I was a kid, too. Chichi wouldn't let Goten come out and play until he finished his daily homework, so there were a few visits when I had a lot of time to kill."
Her lips curved upward again, her expression taking on a warm glow despite the ashy look to her black hair and the mess on her face and clothes. She looked at the little ball carefully, and eagerly placed it on a cabbage leaf and in a yet unused steamer. The next one she tried with his direction. Chichi's recipe said nothing about the number of pleats, and assumed the reader already knew how to stuff the baozi the correct way. She didn't expect to get a secondhand lesson from her grandmother's experience. She loved every second and listened closely. By the time they'd potted a new batch, the first one had been eaten. He added water to the bottom of and set a timer for 12 minutes.
While the timer ran down, she started to clean up, dumping some of the loose vegetable scraps into the trash can and putting the mixing bowl in the sink to wash. For a moment, he simply watched her, gathering up a little courage. Before she got too far, he gently pulled her arm away from her tasks.
"What is it?" she asked, seeing the suddenly serious expression on his face.
He lifted her up, ignoring a surprised yelp as he set her on the counter so she could be more at eyelevel. "We need to talk about something."
She swallowed hard. No good conversation ever started with those words. But as silence stretched between them, she noted how close he was standing, and how his hand rested intimately on her hip. His body language seemed like there was nothing to be concerned about, so she tried her best to relax.
"Goten called me at work," he started. "He wants to meet me on Paozu to talk about wedding stuff."
"Oh – okay," she said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"I'm sure he'll be asking me to be his best man."
"Yeah – I would figure."
"Pan, I don't think I can agree to that – with such a big secret between us," he explained. "Part of me wants him to know so he can back out, if that's going to be a problem."
She shifted uncomfortably, red growing on her face. "That's not Goten though. There isn't a long list of people more important to him than you – and I'm not even entirely sure I'm on it."
Trunks smiled uneasily, considering what she said. He grabbed a nearby towel, using it to clean the dried dough from her forehead before he could continue. She rolled her eyes, but the act was slightly comforting.
"I think – I think you should come with me to that meeting," he said, breathing deeply. "If you're – okay with the idea."
Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly. Excitement filled her chest, followed by a shockwave of nervous energy. This is not how she thought this conversation was going to go, but was delighted she had been wrong. "But I thought you weren't ready…"
"It wasn't that long ago that I wasn't," he said honestly, "but running into your friend – makes me think I don't care as much about keeping it quiet as I thought I did. Plus, it's going to be difficult no matter what. Might as well get it out of the way so we can move on to better things."
Move on to better things… the words echoed in her mind. She hadn't dared to think too far ahead since that day in the gravity room. This thing with him was too volatile, too fragile. Wishing for a future or expressing hope for one would've felt like clutching too tightly to an egg. It was better to hold it loosely, and see how far she could go without dropping it. This would change everything.
"Well?" he asked. "If you're not comfortable with it yet, then… but I wouldn't want to do this without you there."
She suddenly chuckled, "So I can protect you?"
He nodded, joining her laughter. "I'm counting on it."
Her smile faded to a soft grin as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck, pulling him slightly closer. "I'm ready if you are," she said, feeling another wave of the nervous energy flowing from her feet to the top of her head as the reality of the situation sunk in further.
"I…" he hesitated, calming the resurgence of anxiety that rushed through his own system with a deep breath. "…I don't want to give up on something this good. This is the next logical step, so – yeah, I'm ready."
She leaned up towards him, but the timer for the baozi dinged in the background, grabbing their attention. He reached over, turning the burner off and pulling the lid off the steamer. Once again, his apartment was filled with a burst of that familiar smell and he was faced with a choice. His lips curved up mischievously as his eyes met hers. Before she could ask him what he was thinking he grabbed her, throwing over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She disingenuously complained, laughing loudly as she gently kicked against his chest. Before he carried her unceremoniously into the bedroom, she grabbed a couple of stacks from the steamer, taking her hard-earned dinner to go with them.
. . .
His eyes opened to the sound of his alarm clock shrieking irritatingly next to his ear. The sky was still dark; he'd forgotten to change the time, but it didn't matter as much anyway. He'd had a good night sleep that started early, thanks to certain exhausting activities that were immediately followed by a carb-fueled dinner in bed. He'd fallen asleep nearly as quickly as he'd allowed himself to consider it, so now that he was awake, it felt as good a time as any to get started on his day.
"It's a weekend," she complained in a groan. "What are you doing awake?"
He turned towards her, humored by the messy sight of her hair in her eyes. It had returned to its natural black color, but that was only because the flour that had been previously covering it was now all over his sheets and pillows. He was sure he had a fine layer of all over his body as well.
"I didn't get much done yesterday," he admitted. "I have to go in. Don't you have a busy weekend anyway?"
He stood and began pulling clothes together for after a quick shower, resisting the urge to repeat the day before when she rolled over and looked up at him with her sleeping, half-opened eyes.
"Yeah," she said with a yawn, "but I don't start before the sun does."
He smiled softly in the dark room.
"The graduations are today," she said. "You should stop by. The kids are always so happy and cute."
"Yeah," he said. "If I get done early enough. That sounds fun."
He jumped in the shower for a quick rinse, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. If there was any upside to working on the weekend, it was the fact that he could do so in comfortable clothes, so he just grabbed a warm shirt and some old sweatpants before heading out.
He was half-way to the office building before he realized he'd left his phone in his work jacket, which he'd taken off by the door on his way in the previous day. So, with a curse under his breath, he flew back, stopping in his living room. Once he'd located it, he picked it up to check his battery and realized he had a message notification. Momentarily curious, pressed the play button.
Although he didn't have it on speaker, the phone volume had been turned up so he could hear his last call of the day against the wind of his flight home the previous night. In the quiet, dark apartment, it might as well have been said through a megaphone.
"Trunks, it's – it's me…" a voice sounded. The voice. The voice he would've given any amount of money to hear a few short months ago, but now sounded like dread come to life.
He hit the "hang up" button so hard, his screen cracked, earning another whispered curse.
That had to have been from earlier, right? An old message that somehow got moved back into his inbox? She couldn't possibly call now - just as he was finding balance without her and everything in his life was finally clicking into place. He checked his phone again. It came it at nearly midnight the night before - when he was either eating bed baozi with Pan or sleeping soundly next to her.
His head swam, his legs growing numb as he suddenly felt the urge to sit down. What was she doing? His finger hovered over the delete icon, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Maybe it's just a need for closure, he told himself, knowing in his heart that wasn't how she did things. Maybe she forgot something, he lied again to himself, knowing she carried very few personal possessions with her when she left.
"Trunks?" Pan asked from the hallway, seeing a look of stress on his face. She was already wearing a tank top and shorts, apparently having decided to wake up as well. "Is everything alright?"
He took a deep breath, hoping the light growing from the impending dawn didn't reveal the paleness on his face. "Yeah," he said – another lie.
"Are you sure you don't want to stick around for breakfast?" she asked through a yawn. "The kitchen's already a mess. Might as well make pancakes and…"
Before she could finish, he moved over to her, pulling her to him so hard, she could barely breathe as he kissed her slowly and deeply. Her drowsy mind could hardly process what had just happened before he let her go again, and she found herself gasping for air afterward. "Hell of a way to wake up," she joked.
He looked into her brown eyes, brushing a piece of hair from her forehead as he stared at her heart-shaped face.
She looked back at him questioningly. Something had changed in just a few, short minutes, but she couldn't even imagine what. Apprehension crawled up her spine, his smile doing nothing to ease the discomfort she felt that he was suddenly hiding something.
"I'll see you when I can," he said, leaning down for one more quick kiss. "Have a good day."
"You too…" she simply said, unable to do anything but watch as he leapt out of the window and into the sky.