The moment Trunks rushed towards the strange ki he felt, a ki with a type of strength and energy he hadn't felt in years, he expected everything but seeing himself. Armed, too. A super Saiyan. He had transformed when he first felt it to speed up, and arrived to meet a mirror version of himself, just above Capsule Corp.

Tora had a close look at the man who flew straight at her like a moth to a burning fire. Black tank top, gray loose pants with a yellow belt, and yellow boots. Short hair, No binder, no watch, no sword, but he wore the dogtags. Piercing teal eyes, burning gold aura, exactly like her own. They were both alert and observant of each other's aura and intentions.

Tora tensed, clenched her fists. She had no stress reliever anymore, no piano to lose herself in, no tobacco left to cope as she finished her pack ten days in. She acted on instinct before the other could ask questions, and did what a perfectly sensible Saiyan who had been nervous and pacing, stressing for a month and a half in anticipation would do. She phased in front of him and punched him square in the face.

Trunks barely registered he was being attacked before the hit connected, he flew back in confusion and self-preservation. Tora tilted her head a little, the power she felt was.. underwhelming. 'Did this man really destroy the Cyborgs?'

"Who are you? Is this another nightmare? Where am I?" The man questioned, guarding in care another attack followed.

Tora's answer was to rush forward, and she saw just how much faster she was compared to Trunks, he only parried her left fist with his forearm, which would obviously leave a bruise considering how much he moved back under the pressure. Then her right fist connected with his gut, leaving him breathless and in pain. This one hadn't learnt proper guarding or technique with Tenshinhan or Piccolo, without a doubt.

A few more one-sided attacks later, Trunks roared, flaring his aura more, and went on the offensive himself. Tora saw how his muscles swelled and felt the change in power. He had gone somewhat beyond super Saiyan, but it wasn't the same as her version, it was a little more similar to Vegeta's form. She parried, deflected and locked hands with her counterpart when they exchanged blows, and they both realized their differences; he had a little more raw strength, but she had better technique and could anticipate him better due to her superior speed and knowing exactly how he fought.

It was enough. She flared her aura more, tapping into the strange form she had learnt to summon even if she couldn't fully control it, just to end their 'Saiyan get-to-know each other' fight. Electricity cracked briefly around her, her elastic snapped. The sudden increase of speed and strength soon left Trunks dazed and disoriented and super Saiyan abandoned him.

Same curtain haircut she had before entering the Room of Spirit and Time, same hair color, a little messy from the fight. Tora didn't let him fall, dropping her own transformation. She grabbed him and held him close to secure him as they hovered high. To secure him, she put her arms under his, and sighing in the crook of his neck, she answered his questions at last.

"I'm a you from another universe, another time traveler. You were brought back to life. The nightmare is over," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"That hurt..." He stayed frozen as he was held gently despite the punches he just endured. He knew they were painful by the sheer force they had, but he recognized they were more of a test than actual straight up attacks to harm or to kill. 'A little like Gohan-san…'

"Why?"

Trunks felt no ill intentions in the hold or in the words, but he had to ask as he focused on regaining his breath and senses. He slowly moved back, hands on this familiar person's shoulders to be able to make sense of it all, now neither of them were using the form anymore. Same ice blue eye color and cat-like eye shape, same lavender hue, same naturally tan skin, same height, same reserved vocabulary, same way of looking right through someone… 'No doubt, this is a Trunks.'

"Stupid Saiyan-" she started answering, a pretty blush across her cheeks.

"Stupid Saiyan genes, alright," he continued the known mantra. "Made me feel alive for sure," he slid down his hands on her arms, trying to recover. "Where's mothe-"

"On New Namek."

"Alone?!"

"No, she has a reliable escort."

"The green monst-"

"Dead."

"How did you get here?"

"Your Time Machine's return procedure." She took his hands with hers and gently squeezed them with a softer smile.

Tora noted how his voice was similar to hers; in the medium range of tones. Not high enough to be girly, but not as deep as Vegeta's and certainly not as Piccolo's. She had to admit the past version of Bulma was right, when nicknaming this Trunks her 'handsome seventeen/twenty-year-old'. She recognized parts of herself in him, but she knew they weren't the same. He, however, saw an exact copy of himself, except for the longer hair, as the windbreaker hid more of her silhouette.

"Why are you here?" He asked after a pause, observing his longer-haired twin a moment, and held the hands that had given him the two most painful punches he'd felt in a while. Trunks never imagined himself with longer hair, but he had to admit this 'other himself' looked good.

"I couldn't let any version of Mother suffer, and I.. felt you were waiting for me," she explained. "Let's take you home, your mother is going to arrive soon."

As she said so, a massive orange wave washed over the planet. The wish to heal it from the damage caused over the last twenty years, Tora guessed. Suddenly the temperature dropped a couple of degrees.

Tora had wanted to meet Trunks for months at this point, as her mind often got back to him when she was in the Room of Spirit and Time, as she realized it was another her who had used that Time Machine first, and he died defending it. And yet, she didn't expect the first thing she would do when actually seeing him was to attack him. She was thankful her stupid Saiyan genes had ignored the sword on her back, else she would have had a hard time explaining that to this version of Bulma. She was even more thankful Trunks didn't resent her for it, after all, he was the same as she was, wasn't he? She had just been faster than him, the element of surprise on her side.

Back in the compound, Tora apologized with food and took care of the couple of superficial cuts she left on his face while the radio news marveled at the gods having come back to their little planet. The lost lives of the past two years were back, just like many years ago when Piccolo Daimao killed plenty and they had all come back. Crops were abundant, streams clean and plentiful of fish, and pollution just gone. A true miracle.

The story Tora gave Trunks while waiting for Bulma, Krillin, Gohan and perhaps Dende to appear was brief, they'd go into the details later. She, too, traveled to the past to save Goku from the heart-virus and warn about the Cyborgs, but when she came back to 767, they found Trunks' Time Machine, and Cell. Long story short, Cell absorbed the Cyborgs, became incredibly strong, Goku died anyway, and Gohan finished him off. She left out she died as well, at least for the time being.

Fifteen minutes later, and still no Bulma, but the phone ringing echoed in the compound. The call was unexpected, and the two identical Briefs ran to answer it. They were reassured seeing the others, and waved hello at Bulma, Gohan, Krillin and Dende. Trunks found it uncanny to see his mother with a younger Gohan, a Gohan incredibly similar to the one he met in 767, but who clearly wasn't him, if only for the haircut, but also the heaviness in his eyes. When Tora said 'reliable escort', he didn't expect that, but he was pleased nonetheless. His mother was in the best possible hands.

"And so we'll be taking the long way home. I'm sorry we're making you wait some more…"

"You did well, Mother," Trunks confirmed. Indeed so many had been snatched by Cell over the past few months, it was the right choice. "I miss you."

"Me too sweetie, so much."

Tora stayed nearby. She also approved the choice, the sudden influx of life she felt was good, and healing the planet was also a wise choice. She however stayed back and silent, letting this world's Trunks handle it. It was his world, his home. And this older Dende looked pleasant and mature. Joy had returned to Bulma's features, and Tora could swear she looked more energetic too.

"We'll meet soon. A month and a half?"

"Five weeks or so," Bulma nodded. "Call us often, don't let me always call you, don't forget to eat well, no slouching around, keep my lab safe..." Bulma promised she'd call often and they better call too else she would know they were up to no good.

"When have I ever misbehaved?" Trunks fake-rolled his eyes at the motherly advice.

"Well I can think of a few-" Bulma touched her cheek, thinking through some potentially embarrassing stories.

"Don't," Trunks and Tora spoke at the same time, hastily, they instantly recognized the upcoming storm of shameful anecdotes. Trunks immediately regretted opening that door.

Bulma was mischievous and both 'her children' knew that if given the opportunity to shame one of them, that would be likely to relate to the two of them, and neither wanted the woman to list out all of their misbehaviors like that. The blue-haired genius laughed at the display of red faced young adults and let them off the hook. For now.

"Look at the two of you. My lovely pair of-"

"Oh hell no," Tora just walked out, throwing her arms up, knowing exactly what would follow, much to Trunks' confusion, he hadn't caught on yet.

"My pair of Trunks." Bulma continued, and Trunks stared blankly through, then hit his forehead on the wall near the screen and camera above the landline phone, groaning in embarrassment.

"I renounce my name, my relation to you and I will leave West City never to be seen again," he deadpanned. He had heard that joke three years prior, but his brain had selectively forgotten about it.

Krillin and Gohan laughed. They later nudged Bulma to tell more of Tora/Trunks' misbehaving actions eventually, but without the 'victims' listening in, especially Gohan who wanted to know more about 'his' Tora, even if from another source.

Like Tora, Trunks was the kind to express himself through touching with his closest loved ones. When things finally calmed down a little, they got to know each other a little better, even if they instantly trusted one another much to their surprise as both of them were usually guarded and cautious. When Tora removed her windbreaker and sword, Trunks noticed how that version of him was more covered than he was, even with a similar silhouette. Long sleeves, despite being summer.

"Am I a little taller than you, Trunks?" He observed, stood straight up and the other did the same, standing closer, and nodded. Indeed, Trunks was just a little taller; Tora knew already from the medical records she read but seeing it for herself was weird. Calling someone else by his own name felt strange even if Trunks had already done it with the baby.

"You are Trunks in this universe, so you can call me 'Tora', like Gohan-san. Yes I think so, I'm 170cm tall."

"Eh, Trunks is your name too, I don't mind sharing. I'm 173, so you'll still grow a little. You said you were from 784, so that makes you seventeen?" Trunks was a little intrigued. He was not 170, at seventeen years old.

"I am from January 784, but I am actually eighteen and a half-ish. In 767, I stayed in a special room, where one year inside is one day outside."

They sat back down on the sofa once their heights were compared, and Tora took his hand back in hers. The touch was comforting, their hands were the same, and Trunks would have taken the hand himself if the other hadn't moved first. It was uncanny, neither was tactile with strangers but both wanted to touch the other immediately, and so despite their first contact having been a fight. Neither resisted it, even if they each silently questioned it. It just felt natural.

"Such a room really exists?"

"Yes, it's.. I spent a full year locked up with Vegeta-san in there."

"One full year with Father? That sounds.." Trunks imagined it and his face twisted in second-hand pain.

"Like absolute torture, and it was," Tora confirmed with a little dry chuckle, appreciating the thumb rubbing gently on the back of her hand to give comfort. "A white void of extreme conditions, perfect for training and losing your mind and sense of self. But I learned a lot. About him, about myself.. It is also why my hair is long."

"Mother always cuts mine, but it looks really good long, at least on you," Trunks noted, figuring he'd, too, look good with longer hair, but Bulma would never allow it. Tora couldn't help a blush at the compliment.

"My mother will decide if she wants to cut it once I go back home, I don't want any other Bulma touching it before she sees it." Hair had been a big deal for her and her mother, because of Eighteen, and this Trunks, unlike her, had no reason to ever want long hair, but she kept silent about it. She freed her hand long enough to untie the hair, then held it up high to show the undercut. Well, the now shorter hair, as it had grown a solid centimeter since she used the clippers. "I did shave here, to keep it light."

Trunks got a good look and nodded, he got it, and Tora tied it back low.

"So we had the same childhood and the same circumstances?" He had to ask, taking back the hand in his own for comfort and support; if the subject was difficult for him, it would be as much for a younger version of him. "The Cyborgs, Central City, the theme park, Devil, Gohan-san, his arm.."

"Yes, and I reached super Saiyan when I found his body," she looked back to see if it had been the case for him too, and the expression confirmed back.

"He knocked you out too, uh," Trunks sighed, the memory still painful.

"To protect me. Us."

Tora looked back at this person who had such a similar life to her own, until he went to the past, it seemed, then she looked away, towards her sword resting on the back of the chair where she'd put her jacket on.

"But you never had this sword," she glanced back at Trunks who confirmed he hadn't. "I promised I'd tell Gohan-san. The 767 one. When he comes back, I will tell that story." The subject was difficult, so she pushed it off to a later date. "I think it's one of the main differences between our worlds.. and our experiences." She also wasn't quite ready yet to take off the binder, but she wanted to. He was the one whose existence and mindset was the closest to hers, he'd understand and help her figure herself out, wouldn't he?

"You haven't killed your Cyborgs yet, since you're still technically in your second trip, right?"

"That is correct. It made more sense to come here first before going home."

"For me, for my mother, you delayed your own mission…"

"My selfish act of revenge against Cell," she smiled.

"Considering how you destroyed me out there, the Cyborgs will be easy," Trunks reassured with a squeeze. He had had three years of peace, but not Tora who was still anxious about saving her world. He was still a little bitter about not having been able to put up a decent fight, but he was only hurt because that was why Cell was able to kill him. Tora closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder, like she used to with her version of Gohan.

"And thanks to you, I'll know to expect Cell, and will actually kill him before he hatches and harms my world."

"Problem-solver much.."

"I am the child of my mother, after all," she chuckled.

"You're a much stronger fighter than me too," he easily admitted.

"I'll give you data and we'll train," Tora smiled, she could give him enough to study and get better, and perhaps spar. A month was plenty to give him some bases she obtained with Piccolo and Tenshinhan. "Your guard and positioning are terrible. Mine were, too, actually. I only improved thanks to Tenshinhan-san and Piccolo-san."

"Things were different in my May 767 than in yours.." Trunks mused. They still had much to discuss, but it had been a long day.

Their first couple of days together was an adjustment. Tora informed Trunks of what she did 'while using his name', including how some old ladies wanted him to get to know some of their friends' daughters and so on, which she had deflected. Trunks appreciated the heads up with absolute embarrassment about people wanting him to date, but he took over the social aspect of their existence; he was in charge of going out and checking in with people and getting supplies, while she stayed holed up in the lab, listening to the radio.

They both had irregular and short sleeping cycles, and Trunks not having his watch meant he had to use a traditional alarm. They sometimes crossed paths at night when fetching a drink or when Tora went to check on the lab and the compound's new security systems in between cycles. Tora chose to keep the binder on at all times, except during actual sleep, but she had to find the courage to actually come out with that truth about their differences.

They listened to the radio for changes or threats, understanding each other's paranoia and constant state of alertness better than anyone else could; Tora hadn't known a Cyborg-free world yet, and Trunks' trauma of being ambushed by Cell who had wiped part of his world lingered.

Tora transferred all of Sixteen's videos and analysis of techniques she had on her computer to a drive of his, and they watched together, commenting, observing, then putting into practice with light spars in the former gardens. Tora was no teacher, but she was more resilient and had good observation skills, so she did her best to show her older counterpart what Tenshinhan and Piccolo had taught her. Trunks' thought patterns were exactly like hers so her going through the motions was clear to him. He got the gist of ki blasting and conversion down quicker than she did, and slowly he improved his martial arts by studying and practicing.

She let him read the journal containing both her and Gohan's notes about their own experiences about going beyond super Saiyan, as this Trunks, who was clearly stronger than she was before she entered the Room of Spirit and Time, hadn't given super Saiyan the same type of introspection. Further away from the city, she also showed him her compromise about super Saiyan, and helped him transform in a way that called upon his desire to protect and save his world, rather than the anger and blood-thirst that came from remembering Gohan's death. It was all down to practice from then on.

Trunks soon noticed Tora wore armor, but he didn't find a way to ask about it and just considered it was like the weighted clothing the version of Goku he met wore under his gi.

During their downtime, they went into more detail about their experiences in the first and second trips to the past. Trunks, like Tora, had killed Freeza and Cold because Goku was late (or they were early). He, too, had arrived earlier than anticipated. Tora told him she stayed an extra month to use the Dragon Balls, which gave her a Senzu sprout for her own world, she knew he hadn't and explained he left immediately after giving the warning, his parentage and the medicine to Goku. Vegeta's gaze was too intimidating and the past version of his mother a little too friendly, so he chose not to try his luck and risk interfering with his own existence.

Eventually, during dinner, Tora asked something that was eating her. Did her longer stay in 764 mess up Trunks' birth, or was it something Trunks also messed up by showing up?

"The baby," Tora started. "In the 767 I went to, he was born earlier."

"Oh! Mine too. You're November 21st too, right?" Tora confirmed. "Well during the second trip, I found out that little me was born on June 1st."

"Me too! The boy was almost a year old when I showed up. It was a shock."

"He still looked like me when I was baby, he had that same frowny face," Trunks laughed about it, and Tora couldn't help a stiffer smile. It was more different for her than it was for him, but it also confirmed that all three other Trunkses were boys. She wasn't. And yet the baby was cute and she had fond memories of him.

"He bullied me into babysitting, that little stubborn runt," Tora chuckled at the memory.

"I was so afraid of deleting the universe when young-mother put him into my arms the first time," Trunks echoed. "That was an experience."

"Same! And she took pictures," Tora winced at the memories.

"Oh she took a few of me too," Trunks added. All versions of Bulma liked documenting whatever with photos, no doubt about it, and judging from each other's reaction, neither adult Trunks liked that fact about any of the Bulmas they knew.

Tora also remarked that Trunks, like other Saiyans, was also fairly shameless. He didn't hesitate to go around shirtless, be it when they fought, when the two of them took care of the greenhouse, or when he came out of the shower. This was becoming unbearable because not only this would be her if she were a man, but 'damn he looks nice!' crossed her mind far too often for her liking. First because men were disgusting, but also because by comparison, that meant she wasn't attractive as a woman, and she ended up starting to think that perhaps she was destined to be male. She had to push those thoughts aside, she'd settle them once she was at home, with her mother.

What made everything worse was that the two of them often stared at the other, got red because they were noticed by their target, and they each apologized because of the uncanny looks they gave each other. Sometimes down to stopping dead in their tracks when their brain mistook the other for a mirror that showed a reflection that didn't actually match (hair, clothes), which triggered immediate panic related to the 'uncanny valley' reaction before the Brief brain kicked in to remind them 'it's another you'. Despite the odd feeling it caused them they eventually talked about it and accepted they were going to stare at the other no matter what. It was just dealing with the embarrassment about being seen doing it, all while acknowledging they couldn't help it. They soon stopped apologizing for it and just welcomed the oddly invading intense stares.

They also quickly got attuned to one another, often acting like one mind when choosing food, anticipating a need or finishing a sentence or an idea.

Trunks also appreciated this slightly younger version of him, despite being a little more aloof and more shy, the long hair, the flawless profile and Tora's willingness to help him make up for his combat flaws only enhanced his fascination. That younger himself who had used his Time Machine to make sure he'd be wished back. He was incredibly grateful.

One late night, they reminisced with the pictures in their respective wallets. The exact same birthday picture of their thirteenth birthday with Gohan. They pulled faces at the taste of the salt-cake, showed each other the capsule containing the same car, and went on to talk about their respective relations to Gohan.

"Gohan-san taught me survival first and foremost, but he wasn't.."

"He taught us what he could," Trunks confirmed with a little sorrow. "He only knew so much before everyone else died."

"Did you love him? Like, love love?" Tora was bold about it, but if someone had to know, an older version of her would.

"Did you, Trunks?" Trunks shot the question back at his other self, red in the face.

"I asked first," Tora insisted, but even if her gaze was piercing, she shook her head no and ended up answering: "I'm not sure."

"I'm not sure either," Trunks admitted. "I was just a kid, I admired him.. even after the Cyborgs were gone, my mind and body couldn't.. I don't really know how any of that works."

"I don't either, it gets confusing, because we're not really earthlings…" Tora noted silently she would have to explain the whole discussion she had with Vegeta in the Room of Spirit and Time, but they were both reserved about it. Later. The latest possible.

"I didn't get to see him, even though I was dead for over a month and a half." Trunks had no sense of time during his 'absence', he felt it lasted forever but also an instant, as if clouded by something. "Perhaps I would have known if I saw him as an adult?"

Tora nodded, and squeezed the hand. She knew, like him, she wanted to see her mentor the moment she realized she was dead, but that wasn't her fate and she shook sadly. She wasn't quite sure how to express how she, too, had died at the hands of Cell, but she had no regrets. Saving Gohan was the most important thing she ever did.

".. I sought him too. I died as well. When Cell tried to kill Gohan-san. The 767 one. I pushed him out of the way. Something went wrong, because I died in a universe, a timeline that wasn't my own.. I don't remember much, like you, it must be because we broke some fundamental laws of the universe or something..."

Neither could really piece together what they had experienced, but both agreed someone intervened and kept them out of Otherworld, and both a feeling of void and strange warmth and restless peace, as contradictory as it seemed.

And then she feared for Krillin and Gohan, who too, traveled through time. Suddenly she was hit with remorse, she might have endangered far more than she first thought.

By the end of the first week, they had become comfortable with their routines, and any excuse to touch was taken by either party. Not even excuses were needed, just opportunities. Tora explained she found this world a little colder than hers, now the planet was healthy again like it was in 767, which is why she covered up more, but Trunks started to think it was something else; perhaps this version of him had scars he didn't.

And yet, Tora accepted holding hands, came to touch his arm or shoulder often, they ruffled each other's hair and were happy to sit shoulder to shoulder when reading or watching something together. Proximity felt natural, and their almost identical stature made it all the more uncanny for Tora, who knew in which way they were truly different, and yet, they had the same frame. When Trunks wore a jacket she too owned, it fit him the exact same way. Even if she was a little shorter. Even Bulma remarked on it on their video calls, and now proclaimed she had twins without having had to go through the actual birthing process. The younger pair of Briefs decided to plot more revenge further down the line and absolutely not let this Bulma get away with it.

"We're getting revenge when she comes back, we'll both hide our hair and see if she can truly recognize her 'son'," Trunks had decided he was going to get back at his nosy and embarrassing 787-mother. Tora was all too happy to follow the lead, if only for morbid scientific curiosity. 787-Trunks didn't have the massive identity crisis she was having due to being the only female, but if a Bulma couldn't differentiate her from a man, even with the binder, it had to mean something.

On the eighth day, however, the forecast announced a storm, and the two Briefs woke up in cold sweats when thunder hit and rain pounded on the Capsule Corp windows. Tora left the guest bedroom in pajamas and holding the sword close to her chest, unable to find comfort when the memories suddenly came to haunt her, and Trunks left his bedroom in boxers just as frightened. They both had the same reflex during storms: find comfort in 'mother's arms'.

And when they saw each other in the corridor, suddenly aware of the panicked ki they both felt about each other, they knew exactly what the other was going through, and the mutual realization that there was no Bulma to comfort them only brought them each close to tears. The lights flickered until they went out with another lightning, then thunder roared. The newly built distribution system shut down and deprived the neighborhood of electricity. Except for the lab, which had its own generator. Suddenly, everything was pitch black.

Despite her best judgment, Tora accepted that staying together to chase away the memories and nightmares she knew they both had was the best solution. Trunks took her to the living room so they could lay on the sofa bed; far from the windows, they wouldn't hear the storm as loudly. Tora would have gone to the undergrounds if she had been home, but Trunks knew his house better, and from his motions, Tora could only imagine he and his Bulma had done this before. He tossed bed-sheets on the convertible sofa while Tora dried her eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas and tried to make enough light with her ki so Trunks could see what he was doing, the other hand holding her sword firmly against her like the comforter it was for her at night.

A minute later Tora was curled on their new shared bed, laying on her right side, holding her sword close, and Trunks had both arms around her. She breathed in and out slowly on his chest, her head resting on his biceps, while he rubbed her back and hair. Eventually her left arm released the sword and slid under his right arm, so her hand would touch his bare back, like she'd do with her own mother, and she gently caressed the skin, trying to give back at least a fraction of the comfort he was giving her.

"I've never slept in pajamas," Trunks noted after a long moment of calming down together and fighting off the painful vivid memories. He tried to distract both their minds from the nightmare that finding Gohan under similar weather had been so many years ago. He had had more time than Tora to process it all, and unlike his younger counterpart, he actually avenged him by destroying the Cyborgs. He slowly built up a little ki, trying to warm his foreign twin up a little, feeling the shivers through the pajamas.

"You're a little more comfortable in your own body than me," she whispered against the skin, then breathed in again the scent that reassured her, but also had her tense and nervous. And she couldn't understand what was going on with her.

"You cover up more than me.."

"Yes," she admitted and squeezed herself closer, the sword giving her protection. "We are different, and it is not just our experiences, or this sword."

"We are also different from the baby boy you met, and the one I met," Trunks pulled closer as well, appreciating the scent and blind trust the two seemingly had to speak with vulnerability. His initial fears about Gohan's death had vanished, and as he and his mother used to comfort each other, he would do the same to this version of him.

"No-" she answered a little too fast for her own liking, taking in a good taste of the scent of the warmer body in front of her. It felt reassuring, kind, safe. "I'm different," she breathed out.

Slowly, she released his back to give more space between them. He let go of his hold too, but tried looking through the darkness as the other shifted around, leaving the sword behind and sitting up, knees folded on either side of her hips. Curious about what Tora was doing, Trunks also sat up, slowly. She reached to find him in the dark, then moved her hand down his arm to find his own hand, and pulled it slowly forward to make him feel exactly what she meant.

He patted what he felt, as her hand pushed on his to encourage touching with the full palm, slowly, as he couldn't see clearly exactly where his hand was, even if it was extended just in front of him. Tora removed her hand and let him continue. It was something soft under what he recognized as fabric, but it wasn't like the pajamas. He pressed a little forward and underneath the cotton texture of the fabric and the soft tissue, he felt warmth. The shape of the object filled his hand, and he first thought about some sort of stress relief ball. Then he gave a little squeeze. Tora stayed incredibly still when Trunks reached with his other hand to try and make sense of what the hell he was supposed to get.

The dots didn't connect until the second hand drew back and summoned a little ki for light. Her eyes narrowed when the sudden luminosity change affected her pupils. Trunks' eyes locked on hers as a reflex, questioning, confused. Tora was staring right through him as she usually did, unflinching but red on the face, heart beating fast. He felt the heartbeat under his hand. Slowly, his eyes drifted down to see exactly what his younger version was having him feel. His right hand was fully feeling her chest, the pajama shirt unbuttoned, the hand on the tank top underneath. And his hand gave another squeeze before he consciously realized exactly what he was doing. He jumped back with a yelp, falling off the couch, white as a sheet of paper, shame washing as his brain told him exactly what he'd been doing for a solid minute.

"Holyshit you'reagirl!"