Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Change of Heart ❯ An Oppurtunity Presents Itself ( Chapter 11 )

Trunks woke with a start as his mother sat a glass down on the table. His head was on his arms on the table, and he looked up her. Her arms were crossed, and she had two pills in one hand. She hitched a brow up, and he glared.

"What is it?" He asked, half groaning. He was squinting, trying to block out the morning light from the kitchen window. She sighed and sat the pills down next to the water. She slung a hand on one hip.

"Take those, or your headache will be even worse." He gave a groan and slapped a palm over the pills, clutching them and stuffing them into his mouth. He leaned back on the table. "Trunks, take that water with it." She said, and he looked at her under a furrowed brow. "If you don't you'll be sick." He grabbed the glass, beaten by his mother, and gulped it down. "That's a good boy." She said, and patted him on the shoulder. "Now you wouldn't want to be an even bigger help by going somewhere else and sleeping, would you? I've got to make breakfast."

He got up slowly and steadied himself, dizziness taking over his body. She shook her head, and pulled a can of orange juice out of the freezer.

"Trunks," He looked at her. "You get some rest before your birthday. It's only in a couple days, and a lot of influential people will be there." She brought a corner of her mouth up appraisingly. "Just get some rest, ok?" He nodded and stumbled out of the room, making his way up the stairs to his own bed. He could hear his mother taking out pots and pans for breakfast, and he shut his door to block out the noise.

Slumping into the feather comforter of his bed, he curled himself up in it and pulled it over his head.

"Hey there." Gohan said gently, leaning against one of the four poster bed's poles. She smiled back, and her father returned the classic Son grin. "How you feeling?" He inquired, and her happy expression didn't drop, just lightened as bit.

"I'm doing ok. What happened exactly?" Bulma walked in at this moment, and set down a tray of food on her lap.

"You hit an SUV last night, and the car flipped off the road. Looked awful, I don't see how Trunks could have just flown you home like he did." Pan raised her eyebrows. "That was the whole thing in gist." She added with a smile. Pan looked down at her food and shook her head.

"That bad?" Bulma folded her arms and leant one hip to the side. Gohan nodded, and Bulma opened her mouth to speak; taking a breath.

"I didn't recognize the car. Besides it being labeled as un-distinguishable, it was all one big ball. But I suppose after battling aliens and all the other stuff you've come across, a car wreck won't hurt you." She winked, and her eyes were glittering.

"Honey, how are you?" Videl came in the room, and gave her daughter a warm hug. "I was so worried about you." She said through the embrace.

"I'm fine, mom." Pan said, a little awkwardly, and her mother drew back, a signature smile on her face. "I guess I just needed the rest, I feel way good though now." She looked around. "Do I have to stay in this bed any longer?" She asked, and Bulma got a business like face on.

"The meds are being pumped into your body right now, at least, until about three o'clock. So you need to stay here till then. After that, if you're feeling alright, I don't see why you have to." Those were the magic words, and she started to dive into her pancakes vigorously. Marron and Bura poked their heads in, and Pan waved a hand.

"Come in." She said, and they were both by her side, asking questions about anything and everything.

"Bring out the cake and ice-cream; he's awake!" Goten exclaimed, and Trunks gave him a death glare. "And he's in a bad mood too." He added. Trunks fell into a kitchen chair next to Goten, who patted him on the back, and Bulma passed Trunks a plate with a deli sandwich on it. She started pouring him some juice, and Trunks coughed.

"How's Pan?" He asked, and Goten smirked to himself. He quickly hid it though, as Trunks looked his way, gazing out the window.

"She's fine." Bulma said, setting his glass down, and refilling Goten's. "She woke up earlier, about two hours after you went to sleep, and I told her she could get up for good about now. She should be up soon."

Goten accepted the juice with a thank you just before his friend finished his sandwich. Trunks stood up and put his dishes in the sink, then turned to his

"I'm gonna' go see her." She nodded, and Goten leaned back in his chair. Trunks folded his arms and looked at him, an inquisitive smirk on his face.

"Wanna jam on the Playstation?" He asked, a wide-eyed, Goku-reminiscent expression played out to full. Trunks smiled and straightened.

"Yeah, catch you in a sec." He left the room and went into the hall, taking the first left, going down a flight of stairs to his mother's med-research rooms. He looked on the panel to see which one Pan was in, then took a right down the western hall. He read the numbers on the door, and stopped at #6. He knocked once, then waited. Knocked again. This time there came an answer. He heard Pan say `come in', and he pushed the door open.

She was sitting in bed, reading a book. She smiled as he came in. and slid a bookmark onto the page, shutting it, and sitting it on the night stand.

"How you feelin'?" He leaned against the doorframe, hands in pockets, a cocky-yes pleasant-smirk on his face. She folded her arms, and her smile dropped. His shoulders and smirk dropped too. She folded her arms tightly, and shot him a stern look.

"Well, Trunks Briefs. Seeing as you put me into the whole mess, taking me in your car, flipping it, flying me home in the rain…" He winced. A warm smile spread across her lips once more. "I'm doing fine." A genuine, happy-almost bashful-smile crossed his lips, and he walked closer.

"I'm sorry about all that you know." He said, a little guile returning. The guile that was used to making girls melt. That bad-boy, cocky attitude that made girls swoon. He walked straight up to her, and stopped at her bedside. "But aren't you glad you got in a wreck with me?" He said. But it wasn't a cute, innocent question. More like one who knew the answer was "yes."

"Of course." She answered with a smile. "What time is it?" He looked at his watch, and she noticed his watch was scratched up badly. "From last night?" She inquired. Tipping her head at the silver time-teller.

"Yeah, scratched up pretty sick. It's a little after four. About fifteen minutes after." She grinned.

"Time for me to get up." She swung her legs over the side of the bed, but Trunks grasped her shoulder. She looked at him quizzically, an eyebrow cocked, and said, "What?" He gave a small stammer before clearing his throat and pushing her back down.

"You really need some rest, Pan." He said hurriedly, and her lip dropped a bit. "I mean, this wasn't just a small wreck, you know."

"Trunks, what are you-"

"Pan, I want you rested for my big birthday bash, and you have a fever anyway." She looked at him, dumbfounded, and behind his back he held a thermometer onto the light bulb of a desk lamp. "Really, I can tell you've got a fever." She looked at him funny, and he retrieved the thermometer. "Let me at least check?" He asked, and shot her a cute smile.

"Fine, alright." He put it into her mouth, and drew it back as fast as he could without her being suspicious. He clicked his tongue and held it up. She gasped and grabbed it from his hand. "101.2?" She exclaimed. "But I don't feel that sick." She shot him a confused glance, and he stifled a smile.

"Pan, it would really mean a lot to me if you rested up until your temperature dropped. I don't want you to have to miss my party, it would really disappoint me." She looked at him, thinking she saw concern.

"Ok, it won't be that long, and I guess I need the rest more than I thought." She still looked dumbfounded, but Trunks knew she wouldn't go against a thermometer. She was too smart to not heed its warning.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, and she smiled.

"I am hungry." She said, and he smiled back at her. `Gosh,' She thought. `He's so thoughtful! Why didn't I see this before? He must have just been going through a rough time.' He leant his head to the side.

"Orange juice, a sandwich, and maybe some ice-cream." She smiled, and he gave a grin before nodding and heading out the door. He took the steps two at a time to the kitchen.

`Ok,' He thought to himself. `Pan's out of Dave's picture until my birthday.' He started devising his plan. Or, more likely, fine-tuning it. It had already come to him while he was down there with her. All he had to do was get Dave onto another girl before his birthday, and then they'd be out of each other's pictures for good. He allowed himself a smirk, then dialed Dave's number on the kitchen phone as he took out the stuff to make Pan's meal.

Dave answered with a, "What's up?" Trunks pulled out the mayonnaise and then a knife. "You there?" Dave asked again, and Trunks gave an, "Uh-hu."

"Hey, Dave, I have a surprise for you." He pulled out some meat and cheese and started placing them on the sandwich bread.

"I'm listening." Trunks smirked even bigger; his plan was too perfect. Dave would jump on the chance before thinking, leaving Pan out of his eye for a while. Long enough for Trunks to jump on the chance that was Pan.

"You know that girl at the Italian place in the mall you so deem worthy of you?" He could sense a cocky grin on the other side of the phone. "I'm gonna help you get her."

Trunks had his sunglasses over his eyes, his arms folded slackly on his chest, leaning casually against a wall. A strand of hair fell in his eyes, and he brushed it back. A blonde walked by and winked, and he nodded in return out of politeness. He stretched his back a bit and leant once more against the wall, the supple leather of his bomber jacket crumbling against his chest with a soft crackle.

He tilted his had to the side, and looked over the mall again. He pulled up his scratched watch. Dave was late. A girl he recognized from high school walked in, brunette, with long wavy hair pulled back loosely halfway, a short blue skirt, and a white baby-doll tee. She had tortoiseshell glasses hanging loosely from one hand, the other on a pale, creamy brown bag, her shoes matching in color.

"Jeannene." He called, and she stopped, swinging around to face him. She stretched a hip unbelievably to her right side, and cast a smug, sultry smirk. He nodded her to come over, and she did. Her stiletto heels making soft but distinct clicks on the tiled floor.

"Trunks." She said it slowly, softly, almost a whisper. "Fancy meeting a guy like you here." She slipped her glasses into her hair and slipped a hand to her waist. He smiled, and drew his sunglasses off, putting them into a pocket. "What are you doing?" She cast a playful look, a straight-filed smooth-smile spreading across her lips.

"Meeting a friend." He said casually, lifting one shoulder higher than the other, shoving his hands in his pockets coolly. He slid his tongue over the bottom of his right front teeth as usual, and caught sight of Dave coming in through the opposite entrance. He turned his head towards him, and the girl turned to, a hand delicately on her hips, to delicate not to be practiced.

"Meeting him?" She inquired, and he smiled his answer. "Well I guess I better scoot then." She said, sounding like a ten-year-old with a doll. "Do me a favor." She said again in her low, smooth voice. She grabbed his arms and looked up at him, blinking her eyes slowly once. "Don't be a stranger." She gave him a little smirk and disappeared. Dave was soon beside him, and Trunks slung his glasses back on.

Dave punched him in the arm and said, "Dude, I owe you big time." Trunks stepped onto an escalator-one of the five in this section of the mall-and folded his arms. Dave stood beside him, a huge smile on his face. "Seriously, what made you decide to help me out here?" Trunks stifled a chuckle, instead he smiled.

"Can't I just decide I want to help you out? I mean, thinking about some stuff today, I realized that this is something you want, and I could help you achieve it."

"So what am I going to do?" He asked, nearing the top of the escalator. Trunks took off his glasses, and pushed them into Dave's hands.

"You're going to talk to her." Trunks got off and Dave followed quickly, grabbing Trunks' arm and pulling back a few steps.

"Whoa, hold up. What am I going to talk to her about?" There was a tone of desperation implying he had no idea what to say, but a "rewind and pause" tone saying he wasn't so sure about it. Trunks put both hands on his friends' shoulders.

"Hey, trust me." He gave a mischievous smile, and Dave felt like he was going to an appointment with an undertaker. "I'm not going to shove you down the tubes, Dave." Dave felt like someone poured hot water down his throat. He took in a breath, then released it. Trunks' grip dropped. Dave nodded.

"Ok, let's go."