"Mom! Where's the curling iron?!"
CRASH!
The occupants of the limo winced as the car pulled up in front of the Son residence. Vegeta looked uncomfortable in his tux, he sat more stiffly then usual in the corner farthest from the door. Next to him sat Bulma, her legs crossed at the knee, sitting formally in a long black evening gown.
For a woman in her late fifties, she looked pretty damn good.
Back, across from them, near the door, sat Trunks, stoically. His face a carbon copy of his father's, his eyes dark and cruel...they seemed blacker then before. He had crossed his arms before his chest, his legs crossed at the knees. Bulma had tried talking to him on the ride over, but he had only smirked disapprovingly and shook his head at whatever she said, refusing to answer.
Up in the driving cab sat Bra, flirting with the limo driver.
"Mom!" came Pan's voice from inside the Son house.
"Trunks," Bulma said quietly, crossing her arms, her eyes closed. "Go up and see if they're ready to go."
"Woof woof."
Bulma's eyes flew open.
"Trunks!"
The door flew open and Bra reached in, pulling her brother out of the car.
"Come on Brother, let's go get your girlfriend."
"WHAT?!"
Outside the limo, Trunks yanked his arm back and glared at Bra.
"What the hell do you mean my-"
"It was one way to get you out of the car, wasn't it?"
"Bitch."
Bra grabbed his arm again and dragged him to the front door.
"I'm not the one who rejected you," she replied matter-of-factly, ringing the bell.
"Bra, she didn't reject-"
Videl yanked the door open, her face tired yet happy.
"Bra, Trunks." She laughed. "Come on in; ChiChi and I are trying to fight Pan into an evening gown and make up, so we may be longer then anticipated." Videl's words were punctuated by a crash from upstairs.
"Get away from me with that! AH! No, get that away-NO! Grandma! Don't-AH!"
Bra laughed and pushed into the house. "Never fear, I am here to help. And Trunks is here to hold her down."
Trunks glared at her and turned. "I'll get Mother and Father," he called soullessly over his shoulder.
"What's with him?"
"Couldn't tell you, he's been like this all morning. Now, I'll go help ChiChi with Pan."
"Just follow the screaming," Videl told her, stepping back to admit Bulma, Trunks, and Vegeta.
Bra bounded up the stairs in her heals, her long blue hair swinging behind her. Bulma walked to the mantle in the living room, picking up pictures and studying them. Vegeta followed her, leaning against the wall next to the picture window, watching his wife, and keeping an eye on his son.
Trunks merely stood uneasily in the doorway.
He seemed better now, not so angry, merely scared and nervous, but he still wasn't himself.
Videl closed the door and walked into the living room and stood next to Bulma, picking up a photograph from the end.
"She always has been a Daddy's girl," Bulma observed casually, but Videl heard a note of hurt in the older woman's voice, and couldn't help but peak back at Trunks.
She smiled, touching the grinning faces of her husband and 3 year old daughter, back when Gohan had just starting teaching Pan to fight.
"Yes, she has. Just like someone I could mention has always been a Momma's boy."
Next to her, Bulma "hmmphed", behind her, Trunks laughed quietly and sardonically. But neither mother nor son did anymore then that, so Videl decided to take the safe route and change the subject.
"You know, Trunks, Pan told us she had a very good time last night."
That got Trunks' attention. He seemed to come alive, and walked curiously into the living room, his eyes interested and eager, alive for the first time since she'd opened the door.
"Really? She said that?"
"In so many words."
"H-how? I mean, how so?"
Videl shrugged, placing the photograph back on the mantle. Upstairs, great thumps and thwacks could be heard.
"Well, we talked at breakfast this morning, and she told us that you went out to dinner together and had a marvelous time, although neither of you are allowed back at Juno's," she paused, noticing a sad and quiet snort of laughter from Trunks. "She said you went to the beach and talked about Goku, and about what both of you had missed. When we asked her why she was past curfew, she merely said 'we lost track of time, I guess.' She was a little subdued, but she always is, after thinking about her grandfather."
Trunks nodded.
"Bra! I'm serious, you are NOT getting me into that thing-YES I will wear an OCCASIONAL dress every once and a while, but you will NEVER get me into THAT-THAT-THING!!!!!" Pan's voice from upstairs was almost worth a good laugh. Almost...downstairs the atmosphere was too strained for laughter of the good-natured sort.
"Pan," Bra could be heard clearly, her voice quiet and commanding. "Get over here and put on the dress."
"NO!!!"
"ChiChi, leave the room...Pan, get your ass in the dress."
"Make me!"
The dialogue cut out into a series of devastating crashes and thumps that made the house shake.
Gohan chose this moment to enter the living room.
"Sounds like Pan finally found a 'good sparring partner'," he chuckled. The minute that he stepped into the room however, he froze, and his good-natured laughter left him. He stiffened, glanced between Vegeta, Bulma, and Trunks, turned on his heal, and left the room.
Trunks noticed, but didn't say anything.
"Mom?" Pan called down from the top of the stairs. Her head was stuck around the corner, but she remained hidden behind the wall. Videl turned and looked up. "Where's the curling iron?"
"I don't have a curling iron..."
"No, mine."
"You have a curling iron?!"
Pan threw her hands up into the air and disappeared.
"I will get this dress on you," Bra could be heard saying.
"Get out. I'll wear a flippin' dress, but I'm doing this my way. The way I intended to do. Alright?" Pan said, almost laughingly.
There was a pause. All eyes seemed to be focused on the top of the stairwell.
"You just wanna make yourself beautiful for my broth-"
Bra was cut off by a loud and earsplitting slap. Vegeta pushed himself away from the wall, his eyes large and angry-no one slapped his princess. Gohan reentered the room, his eyes seemingly looking through wall to where his daughter was upset and in emotional pain-he had taught her not to slap unless she had good reason.
"Eep!" Bra squawked as the blow sounded. She eep!-ed again, and Pan's voice, quiet and cruel, floated down to the rest of them.
"Never say that again, am I understood? I have put up with you and your attempts to hook me up with your brother for more then 10 years. Whatever childhood crush I had is dead, alright? Dead. If I ever hear you say that again, I swear to Dende that I will make you learn how to fight, even if only to protect yourself. Alright?"
Nothing.
"Alright!?" Pan's voice was louder this time, more strained.
"Yes," Bra whispered, the word hanging in the air. "I understand. No more."
"Good."
A door slammed, shaking the house. Bra stumbled back into view, a large red hand print across her left cheek, her eyes wide and shimmering. Vegeta leapt to the second floor railing, Gohan beat him there by blurring. One father ran to a daughter, holding her face, inspecting it and turning towards the direction his daughter's best friend had disappeared in. The other father ran to a doorway, pounding on a door, calling to his own daughter, demanding to know that had happened.
Neither child said a word.