A Night Like This
                          by Angela



I shove my hands deep in the pockets of my jacket and bend my head against the wind. There is a storm approaching, I can tell, by how the air smells like electricity and feels cool against my skin. But nothing can rival the tempest brewing within me--between myself and Trunks. I am determined to set everything right again.

Sighing in frustration, I think justly, It's all his fault, anyway. Then I immediately regret the mental qualm. If either of the two of us is to blame, it is myself. I had no right to behave so, to just walk off, leaving Trunks oblivious to everything I was feeling. He didn't know what he had done wrong! If Marron and Trunks are interested in one another, that is strictly between them and them alone. It was not -- is not-- my place to intrude.

Why would I even want to in the first place? Trunks is my best friend. I would never wish to hurt him. Our usual teasing and joking is nothing compared to the spiteful manner in which I had treated him earlier at the beach. But it was strange that I felt the urge to do so, to try and prove myself better than Marron, if only in his eyes. That unfamiliar wave of possessiveness had latched onto me then, as it has been doing a lot recently. I let my musings wander to where it all began, this morning at the beach........

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was a typical summer day. Scorching temperatures, relentless sunshine, people out and about making--or at least attempting to make-- the best of the weather. Among the multitudes were Trunks, Bra, Goten, Marron, and myself of course.
Checking my watch, I discovered it was half-past noon. It figured that it would be close to lunchtime-- despite the enormous breakfast Trunks and I demolished earlier morning before heading out, my stomach was starting to feel hollow again. Me and my healthy Saiyan appetite.

Trunks killed the engine after carefully parking his convertible in one of the few empty spaces left in the lot. He had been driving the four of us crazy earlier, telling us when and where to put our supposedly dirty shoes and fingers, so that we didn't mess the upholstery. I will never understand Trunks' silly infatuation with his new car. I have to admit it is beautiful,
especially when the sunlight gleams off the bold Capsule Corporation logo on the side, but it is only a piece of machinery. We could have flown to the beach without half the hassle.

Goten was the first to exit the car. He vaulted over the side-- Trunks had put the top down as we sped recklessly down the freeway, so he had easy access; I'm not even going to talk about the fuss Bra and Marron made over the wind ruining their hair-- and landed lightly on the gravel, slinging Bra's plastic tote bag over one shoulder, inside of which were all of our
supplies.

"Easy-- watch the paintjob!" Trunks cried, a drop of sweat forming on his temple. Poor Trunks. He's an okay guy--one of the best, in fact-- but he really needs to chill out. Personally I think he would benefit from a good dose of Prozac, but my overly-sensitive pal would be mortally insulted and you would be amazed at how long Trunks will hold a grudge.

"Jeez, Trunks! I know what I'm doing," Goten replied, gallantly opening the door as Marron and Bra piled out of the car. Charming to the point where it made me sick, Goten would travel to the ends of the earth just to get a girl to smile at him. I swear, Trunks' best friend sports the biggest ego in West Capital City. Second only to Trunks himself, anyway.

"You better. It took me eight months of working as President of Capsule Corp. to get my hands on enough zeni to buy this baby," Trunks retorted.
Bra's bright eyes shot skyward. "Oh, please. Trunks, all that job requires of you is that you sit down on your butt behind a desk for nine hours each day."
Trunks glared at his sister. "Well at least I'm eligible for getting a job, unlike some."

I sighed. Bra and Trunks love each other as much as any siblings I know, but arguing is one constant between them that will never change. Determined to enjoy myself today, I jumped into the bickering match. "Let's not ruin the morning just because Trunks is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, okay?" He flicked an unamused glance in my direction, and I smiled sweetly at him.

Marron gave one of her clear peals of laughter. "Don't let her get to you, Trunks," she told him cheerfully, boldly winking at him. Trunks dropped his eyes in embarrassment and a spot of color appeared on each cheekbone at Marron's action.

I don't know what exactly about that moment between them irked me. Perhaps it was the way Marron's gaze lingered on him a bit longer than necessary. Or that Trunks' face turned one hue short of his hair color. Maybe the unspoken words settled in the dwindling gap between them. Or because of the increased amounts of time they spend together now, whether it be late-night chats on the telephone or milkshakes at the Pizzeria. But all I knew is that I wanted to suddenly cuff Marron over the crown of her perfect blond head.

"Oh, knock it off," I heard myself say half-consciously. I curled my hand around Trunks' arm and tugged, signaling for him to follow me. "Trunks is a high executive now. He has no time to be flirting with girls." I added, when he looked at me quizzically, "We came here to have fun. What are we waiting for?"

Everyone else agreed in the positive, my strange behavior quickly forgotten,and we all traipsed down the dunes to the beach. The nagging feeling of hunger in my stomach vanished with the last traces of breeze. And as the heat became unbearable, so did my angst. It started with little fragments of thought at the back of my mind. Trunks is usually too shy to pay attention to the opposite sex. Goten always has to make introductions in order for Trunks to meet any teenage girls outside of our close-knit social circle. In fact, unless Trunks has known a girl for a long time, like he has in Marron's and my case, he can hardly speak a clear sentence to them. I wonder if Marron and Trunks…
Nah. It's so impossible I could laugh.

Just when I decided things in my mind were getting odd enough, another voice dropped by to say hello, among a few other words of encouragement. How can you be sure, though, Pan? Marron-chan is older than you, and prettier. She's probably smarter too. She's been alive longer than you, been around Trunks longer than you have.

The first voice retaliated, not completely to my reassurance though. Don' t pay any heed to those thoughts. Trunks is your close friend, closer now that Goten has begun to stray from the nest. He might develop a romantic-- did I just think that?--relationship with Marron, but what you two have got is beyond that. Marron might get his love, but you'll always
have his loyalty. And it was right then, as I stripped down to my bathing suit, standing on an island of hot sand amid the roiling crowd, that I realized maybe Trunks' loyalty wasn't enough for me.

I didn't have time to ponder further, because a pair of hands slapped against my back and I was shoved forward. The beach came rushing at my face, and one mouthful of grit later I scrambled up in indignation.
"Gomen ne, Pan-chan!" Marron giggled, flitting away with Trunks' at her side. "We must have slipped!"

Anger welled up inside me, swollen and fierce, wanting to leak from me like water bursting from a container. That was the second time I felt disdain and resentment towards my girlfriend. No, I believe those words were an understatement. 'I felt like slapping her,' was more like it.

Instead, with some unknown but blessed control, I took a deep breath and calmed down. So, they wanted to play, did they? I was game. This would have to take some brains, to be really worth it. And trust me, at the time I really wanted to see the both of them humiliated very much in the manner I was seconds ago, with my backside sticking up in the air, a tangle of arms
and legs, as my only dry change of clothes was soaked in the tides.

"Hey!" I shouted, taking off at a brisk run after them.
Trunks wrapped an arm around Marron's slender waist and starting stumbling through the thick sand, trying to escape my wrath. He probably had an inkling of how mad I was, and judging from past experiences didn't want to let me catch up with them. It was difficult to run for very long in the intense heat, let alone through the endless stretch of sand. So I halted resignedly after a few minutes, and watched Marron and Trunks disappear into the scattering of people.

"Pan-chan!" I heard Bra call. Turning, I glimpsed her and Goten a ways down the beach, having by some miracle found a relatively deserted spot of refuge from the masses. Bra looked content at my uncle's side. Goten's eyes reflected affection at her. The pair of them appeared like the perfect couple. "Come swim. The water's great!" Having been left with little choice but to accept Bra's offer, I shuffled down the beach with a huffy sigh, staring at my feet the entire while. Mainly because of the whistles I received from boys here and there--it always made me want to pound their faces into the ground when they treated
women like possessions--it took a hard stare at my color-less toenails to keep my frustration in check.

The water, I soon discovered, after Goten sent me sprawling into the shallows, was quite pleasant. I splashed around a bit with my two friends. Then when they waded out farther, skipping shells across the surface and bumping into one another like little kids, I grew bored of being alone when everybody else was with someone. So I flipped onto my back and let myself
drift to wherever the waves would carry me. Not to sound serene or poetic or anything. Because after a relaxing fifteen
minutes of floating, I was dunked, saltwater thus becoming the focus of my attentions. And when I had broken the surface and spit and spluttered painfully, I felt anything but serene and poetic.

"Whoops!" Trunks hollered in my ear. I blinked, vowing that when I got my hands on that conniving little bastard I would make him regret his actions. I surged up in a halo of ki, water evaporating from my body, and felt a pang of satisfaction at the startled expression on Trunks' and Marron's faces. I had longed to goad a proper reaction from them. I guess it was my twisted Saiyan genes showing through. Of course it had slipped my mind that Trunks possessed more of those twisted Saiyan genes than I did, so it was perfectly natural for him to accept my challenge-- had I been proposing a challenge? I don't recall doing that-- by rising up in his own sphere of blue light.

"I'm feeling a little clumsy today," Trunks said, a sly grin curving against his mouth. "You better watch out, Pan."
"Funny, that. I'm feeling a little pissed!" I snapped back, my fist darting out to his surprise. It smacked against his jaw squarely. He had dropped his aura. Now it was my turn to be shocked. So, he wanted to play fair…

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, baka," he whispered, his mouth suddenly next to my ear. Dammit, how fast can he go? Before I could react, with movement's that couldn't be detected by the naked eye, Trunks slipped his arms under my shoulders and flipped me none too gently over his back.

I recognized signs of playfulness in my friend. Normally I would have continued the game, but I was feeling a sort of.... betrayal. For years I had been known as 'Trunks' girl' even though we were nothing more than buddies. Now I envisioned myself as a tagalong, just a somebody who had been there for him through thick and thin, during hardships and struggles, while girlish Marron stole the scene. Frustration and resentment clouded my desire to fight back. Plunging into the water from that last sharp move Trunks had demonstrated on his test subject also known as Son Pan, I cleared the surface and gasped for
breath, powering down.

"Trunks, you sure were rough with her," Marron chided him, treading water, her head, neck and bronze shoulders visible above the rippling waves. She swam over to him when he dipped back below, touching his jaw hesitantly in search of the nasty bruise that would show up tomorrow.

"Pan can handle it," he protested, allowing her to inspect his face. His gaze turned a smoldering blue, fixing on me with an anger I had never seen in Trunks' before. But there was something more in that smoky blue…something that was perhaps new to him just as it was to me…or maybe I was hoping a little too much.

Marron shrugged, releasing his face from her palm but latching onto his shoulder. "She is a girl, you know. We're really delicate things, not like you ferocious were-monkeys in disguise." That was said in a teasing manner, with a laugh.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I knew right then that I had better get away from the beach and away from Trunks and Marron before I did something completely out of character for me.

"Look," I said in a low voice, partly under my breath. "I'm just going to go, okay?"
Did Trunks' expression sober, or just morph into something more bitter?
"You're leaving? Now? Why?" he demanded incredulously.
"Yes," I snapped at him. "I'm getting out of here so I don't have to take anymore of your insults."
Marron frowned. "Wha…Pan, what are you talking about?"
Trunks' face flushed crimson with anger and confusion. "What the hell is
wrong with you?"
I scoffed. "I don't have to explain."
Marron blinked, evidently confused. "I don't know what you mean. Pan-chan? Did we do something wrong? If we did, I…I didn't realize…"
"We were just having some fun, honest," Trunks insisted in that voice of his that all but turns wheedling. The voice he uses around Bulma that gets him anything he wants. "But…if you can't stand the thought of me paying attention to any girl but you, then maybe you should leave. Or maybe you and I should settle this right now, the old-fashioned way."
He had hit a nerve.

I could tell he knew it too, by the slow smirk that spread across his face at my startled silence. I was a jumble of emotions. Anger, bitterness, forgiveness, joy, grief, frustration. I wanted to fling my arms around his neck. And I also wanted to
scream in his face, to force it out of him-- what he felt about me, and how, and what he really wanted.
I didn't want to fight Trunks. That was the last thing I wanted.

"No," I stated simply, and it was all that needed to be said. Feeling my ki skyrocket within my chest, I burst from the bobbing water and into the sky, vanishing from view above the thin clouds. I didn't feel right, just leaving them alone like that. I felt like a vital part of me had been ripped away. Succumbing to the searing heat behind my eyelids, I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks, dropping off and melting into the rushing wind. When I finally arrived at home, Otousan asked me why I was home so early.

"I'm sick," I told him briefly, thumping upstairs into my bedroom before he could interrogate me more. It was not a lie.
I cried and cried for what seemed like hours after that, muffling my sobs into my pillow, curled up in a drenched swimsuit on my bed.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Which brings me back to the present.
Thwarting chills caused by the cooling wind. I only took the time to put on a light jacket before crawling out my bedroom window and coming here. I stand alone on the lawn of Capsule Corporation, arms folded tightly, wondering where I should begin, what on Dende's green earth I should--could--say to Trunks.

I cast a glance over at the porch. Trunks is sitting there on the second step, hunched over with arms around his knees. His hair is stringy and tumbles into his eyes--the result of not washing the saltwater from it--eyes that are closed in thought.
What is he thinking about? I wonder and suddenly falter with a sharp intake of breath.
He immediately looks up. His gaze comes to rest on me, and he scowls.

"What do you want?" he asks frigidly.
I blink. "I was just going for a walk…and I decided to stop by."
He snorts. "I take it you aren't still 'pissed' anymore, then?"
Biting my lip, "No, I'm not pissed anymore," I reply slowly, evenly.
The scowl deepens. "Good, because Dende forbid Son Pan would remain angry at me."
I let my arms fall to my sides. "Dammit, can't you see I'm trying to apologize?" I all but wail.
Trunks cocks his head slightly to one side, wraps his arms around his shins a little tighter. "Funny, it doesn't appear that way."
I blow out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Well, I am, Trunks-kun. I was just so irritated this afternoon with you. With everyone. I don't like being ignored by my so-called friends."
He doesn't say anything, just lowers his head and stares at his sock feet. This is not going at all how I planned. Now he's dishing the silent treatment out at me.

Gathering up my courage, I open my mouth to speak again. "Trunks, I--it was all my fault. You and Marron…you two didn't do anything wrong. Please…I…" My brow furrows in concentration. "I don't want us to stop being friends because of some stupid mistake I made."

He raises his head to look at me after a few seconds of silence. I am filled with quiet dread, just knowing that he won't accept my apology. That he'll just turn and walk back into his house and leave me out in emotional torment.
But then something completely unexpected occurs.
Trunks pushes himself to his feet, coming to stand before me. There is a gentleness in his eyes that I've seen only a few times in the past, usually for Bulma-san or Bra-chan. But now it exists solely for me. I can hardly think as his arms encircle me, and he rests his chin in the crook of my neck.

"Silly Pan-chan," he says softly, an amused note to his voice. "How could you think that I would be able to stay angry with you for more than five minutes?"
I smile, relieved at this rather interesting turn of events. "I didn't know. I was sure that if I didn't come and apologize I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."
I feel his mouth curve in a grin against my shoulder. His breath stirs my hair. "We have a special kind of friendship, Son Pan," he tells me, lightly squeezing my upper arms and pulling away. "It's not something that can be broken easily."

"I'm beginning to figure as much," I reply sardonically, leaning forward to rest my forehead against his chest. "So what now?"
He runs a hand absently through the short hairs at the nape of my neck.
"Well, I was thinking something along the lines of The Simpsons, maybe?" I raise my head and look into those beautiful cobalt eyes, that shine even in the dark of night. Trunks is right. There are some relationships, like the one he and I have, that are special. Special in the way that for something more to evolve, people cannot push it or force it to happen. They have to stand back and let destiny run its course.
"That sounds awesome," I answer him, unable to stop grinning myself. "But only over pizza."
Trunks thumps my shoulder. "I swear, Pan, you read my mind."
Another grin brightens my face, and as we turn and walk closely together back to the Capsule Corporation, I can't help wondering if, on another night like this, we might step over the boundary that separates friendship and love, and embrace what awaits us beyond.



Author's notes:
There!! I'm finally done, whaddya think? Drop me a line at angela-coggeshall@iol15.com to give me any feedback, be it bad or good.
Before anybody sues me: Dragonball, Dragonball Z, and each and every character thereof are created by and copyrighted by Akira Toriyama. They do not in any way, shape, or form belong to me.