a fic that'll probably only interest wundy & me
Title: Bread and Underwear
Fandom: Dragon Ball Z
Chapter: 01
Character(s): several; starring Pan and Bra
Pairing(s): several
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Akira Toriyama does along with assorted others.
Warnings: usual warning along with the rating but nothing else explicitly except for an established M/M relationship
Author's Note: I'm ignoring the epilogue of GT but reluctantly leaving the rest as canon
Summary: in which the adventures of Pan-pipes and Wonder-bra are told.
--
Pan didn’t understand why people griped so much that Mondays sucked. If they were truly in the know, they would state the truth: Tuesdays were the worst day. Mondays, at least, were the start of the week. Sure, for Pan, that meant high school, but there was something about Mondays that made her feel…excited. As if she was going to embark on a great adventure rather than toil away for six hours at school.
Tuesdays, meanwhile, the sense of despair had set in and she found herself realizing that this was going to be her week; that she was going to be stuck in this cinderblock hell for the rest of the week. Every day after that, though, the hope came back as the week was nearly done.
She liked to think on the bright side all days but Tuesday, which was-of course-what today was. Pan reluctantly dragged herself out of bed and ruffled her close-cropped hair with one hand. She yawned and stretched, balling her fists and lifting both arms in the air as she arched her back.
She dragged herself into the bathroom and washed her face in an attempt to wake herself up. She quickly brushed her teeth and opened the medicine cabinet mounted on the wall. From it, she extracted a tube of moisturized. Pan didn’t really bother with make-up for the most part. She didn’t mind it but really had no way to properly apply it without her best friend Bra or make-up whiz Marron around to help her. She wasn’t half-bad at putting makeup on other people but when it came to herself, she may as well have tried doing it blindfolded. She squirted some moisturizer on her face and then rubbed on some cherry-flavored lip balm.
Pan went back into her room and grabbed some clothes, realizing she was dawdling and had to hurry to school. She attached her badge to the waistband of her jeans, nearly stabbing herself in the process and grabbed her bag.
She dashed downstairs, hoping she hadn’t spent too long dragging her feet that she couldn’t have breakfast. She found her mother and father downstairs, wrapping theirs up.
“You’re running late,” her father remarked, not looking up from the dry-looking textbook he was reading. “You’ll have to hurry if you don’t want another write up for being tardy.”
Pan frowned inwardly. Her dad seemed to always know whenever she got in trouble for truancy or being late. Granted, it was probably because she had to bring home a book every day and have one of her parents sign off on it and that book would detail her getting put on detention or skipping class. Her mother didn’t mind as much but her dad was pretty adamant about her misbehavior.
“Does this mean I’ll have to skip breakfast, which-as you know-is the most important meal of the day and to miss breakfast would mean I would be at a slow pace for the rest of the day, seriously endangering my academic aptitude and-”
She was cut off by her mother handing her a piece of toast.
“You can eat it on the way,” she informed her with a smile.
Pan twisted her mouth slightly but still gratefully took the toast, knowing it was better than nothing.
“Fine-I’ll see you guys later, then.”
She stuck the toast in her mouth and headed out the door, ready to fly to school.
--
Apparently luck was on her side as, when Pan arrived at school, the first warning bell had yet to ring. She had walked the last mile or so, not wanting to draw attention to herself by flying right up to the school. She was made fun of enough.
Immediately, she made a beeline for Bra’s locker, knowing her friend would be there. Sure enough, she spotted her familiar mane of blue hair amongst the other students and ran up to her.
“Wonder-bra!” she cried happily, wrapping her arms around her from behind.
“Pan-pipes!” the other girl responded, hugging her back as if they hadn’t just hung out yesterday.
Pan noticed that there were several intricate, tiny braids in Bra’s long, blue hair and knew that it meant that Marron had gotten her hands on her. No one was sure if Marron wanted to be a wedding planner, fashion designer, makeup artist, or hair stylist but she seemed to love doing all of it. Although, the last of those was mostly just her braiding people’s hair idly as she spoke to them or messing with it in general. Everyone had fallen victim to Marron’s hair-braiding, regardless of gender or willingness. Pan was glad that her hair was too short for braids so the blonde woman just ran her fingers through her hair when she spoke to her. It wasn’t that Marron was untalented at it, either. Looking at the braids in Bra’s hair, she knew that it hadn’t taken her very long to get the desired results. It simply got kind of annoying when you were talking to her and she started futzing with your hair.
“Did Uncle Krillin and Aunt 18 come over for breakfast?” she asked, reaching out and fingering one of the braids.
Bra nodded. “Yep. And I didn’t have time to undo them before I came to school, so…but they look alright, yeah?”
She nodded the affirmative. Then again, in her opinion, Bra always looked good. Her clothes were always incredibly cool if they were new or from secondhand shops. She always let Pan borrow whatever she wanted to as well. While she wasn’t into fashion entirely, she did know what looked cool and always felt a tiny boost in confidence when she wore an ensemble borrowed from her best friend.
“Anything else exciting happen this morning?” Pan asked.
Bra closed her locker with a metallic clank and shrugged.
“No-except Boxer found out if you flush toilet paper, it makes the entire roll spin. That was fun to wake up to.”
Pan laughed. Boxer was Bra’s three-year-old brother and a surprise to everyone but especially her parents. He was a cute kid, if a bit of a troublemaker, and he resembled Vegeta in miniature. Pan liked him so long as she didn’t have to babysit him. Even she and Bra together weren’t enough to fend off his mischief.
They walked undisturbed to homeroom. Pan wasn’t surprised and it was a welcome change from whispers and jeers. She and Bra weren’t particularly popular with the majority of the school. Because they spent so much time together, a lot of kids thought they were stuck up. And those were the kids who even knew who they were. Pan was virtually invisible at school. Bra, at least, had a reputation but that was only because she had made out with more boys than Wachessa. Wachessa could get away with it because she was pretty and popular and, coincidentally, also had blue hair. Bra was pretty and, of course, had blue hair but she wasn’t popular so the student body thought it was perfectly fine to write Bra Briefs is a slut! on the wall of the boys’ washroom. Outside occasional taunts, though, they were mostly ignored except in drama class.
Freshmen year, Bra had begged Pan to sign up for drama with her and she hadn’t regretted it. Unlike her friend-who dreamed of being a famous stage actress-Pan knew she wasn’t that talented an actress but she enjoyed being in the plays and musicals all the same.
“So what are you doing after school?” Pan asked, pushing open the door to their classroom.
“Wedding stuff…um…picking our scene for performances next Friday and training with my dad.”
Pan raised her eyebrows, surprised at that last one. “Training?”
Bra shrugged and slid into her seat.
“Well…I see what he and Trunks can do and it’s super exciting. I kind of want to fight like they do. Maybe I could become a Super Saiyan, too, or something.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Although my dad says that it’s awakened by rage and you’re always at least a little pissed off so it might take a bit.”
Bra stuck her tongue out at her but then laughed. Everyone knew that she had inherited her temper straight from her father.
“What wedding stuff?”
Before the blue-haired girl could answer, the first warning bell sounded and other students began trickling into the classroom.
“Flowers,” she said once the ringing had stopped. “Marron begged me to come with her to the florist to try and help her talk sense into my brother.”
Pan laughed. “Yeah, he and Uncle Goten aren’t exactly well-versed in matching flower colors.”
“Thank Kami for Marron, right?”
Both girls snickered. Trunks and Pan’s Uncle Goten were getting married in a couple of weeks but still had no clue how to actually do any of the proper wedding things, which was where Marron-ace wedding planner-came in. Armed with a clipboard, she was easily getting the tasks done for the dense duo. She had picked a color scheme that would complement not only the wedding party but wouldn’t clash with Trunks’s hair and was handling basically everything for them. The only things the two of them were interested in were vows and the catering menu. Pan was pretty excited about the wedding but, at the same time, wished her grandpa could have been there. It had been three years since he had left with Shenron and she still missed him and knew everyone else did, too.
The late bell rang, signaling the beginning of class and effectively putting an end to the girls’ conversation.
--
After school, Bra hugged Pan good-bye (earning at least two cough-in-hand “dykes!” from her more Neanderthal classmates) and hurried home. Unlike her best friend, she didn’t have to hurry or fly to get back to a remote mountain. She could easily just walk home. In truth, she wanted to practice her flying-she was getting pretty good at it-but the city wasn’t the place for that. She would have to wait until Friday when she spent the night at Pan’s and she could practice, unfettered.
She mounted the steps to her house and, nearing the door, she heard a muffled but very familiar voice inside. Growing excited, she opened the door and dumped her back in the foyer before darting into the kitchen. Sure enough, seated across from her mother was Yamcha. He had Boxer on his lap and was nursing a cup of coffee. He had cut off his ponytail recently-her mother had teased him about it endlessly.
“Uncle Yamcha!” Bra called excitedly, rushing over to give him a hug. The embrace was awkward as he had her brother on him and she was trying to hug him while he was seated.
“Hey!” he said back, trying to twist in the chair to hug her in return without dumping Boxer on the ground.
“Hello to you, too,” her mother said, smiling a little. “How was school, hon?”
Bra stood upright and shrugged. “Same ‘ol, same ‘ol. I’ll put my handbook on the counter for you to sign later.”
Her mother nodded. “Sounds good. Now sit with us for a bit before Marron picks you up.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Bra loved when Uncle Yamcha came to visit them. He had worried-so she was told-when her mom had assured him that he could be all of their kids’ cool uncle that that only lasted for so long before he became the “creepy uncle” but he remained entirely awesome. She loved hearing his stories about the old days and kept meaning to ask him to teach her how to do his wolf fang fist because she thought it looked neat.
“Bah!” Boxer waved at her as if he had just noticed that she was there. “Bah home!”
She smiled and reached across the table to muss her little brother’s hair. He could be devil incarnate sometimes but other times-like now-he was just an adorable three-year-old.
“Where’s dad?” she asked.
Her mother and Yamcha glanced at each other briefly.
“Oh, uh…he’s out,” her mom replied in a hasty-sounding voice.
“Out where?”
“Just out,” Yamcha supplied quickly. “Uh, didn’t say where.”
Bra crinkled her brow, growing annoyed.
“Well, when’s he coming back?”
“Oh, who knows? You know your dad.” Her mom laughed in a fake-sounding way.
Okay…what the hell is this about?
She knew not to press, though, since if her mom and Yamcha were being this cagey, there was no way they’d tell her where her dad actually was.
“Daddy go bye-bye fly!” Boxer put in, obviously trying to be helpful.
Bra narrowed her eyes and shifted her gaze between Yamcha and her mom before slowing pushing her chair back and rising from the table.
“I’m gonna go do some homework before Marron comes,” she said, still glaring as she slipped away into her room.
They were so busy with their little farce that they didn’t even notice that Bra didn’t take her backpack-thus cementing her lie about doing homework-with her into her room. Once there, she sat on her bed and folded her arms. Just what was going on? Where was her dad and why were Yamcha and her mom being so weird about it?
--
“While calla lilies are more associated with funerals, I do believe that they are making a comeback in more…positive formal events. Including weddings…”
The florist was seated on a whicker bench, one leg crossed over the other as she rhapsodized about various flowers.
“Does it smell?” Goten asked. “Because I don’t want anything smelly.”
A nerve under the florist’s eye twitched a little but she forced a smile onto her face and brushed some red hair from her eyes.
“Oh, no. Calla lilies don’t smell at all and since they’re white and yellow, should nicely complement your wedding scheme.”
Bra couldn’t blame her for losing patience with them. Trunks and Goten were predictably clueless about flowers and Marron could only interject so much. Bra herself could only comment on colors since she knew diddly squat about longevity or fragrance. Although she thought calla lilies were a poor idea. They reminded her too much of funerals, wax-faced corpses, and death. Weddings were about celebrating life.
Not that she or Trunks had that much basis. She had never been to a wedding and he had only been to two: Krillin and 18’s and Gohan and Videl’s. Their own parents never got married as their father didn’t see the reason. He had said, according to their mother, “You’re my mate and I’m yours. I don’t see why some asinine ceremony and paperwork has to become involved.” He had said the same thing when Trunks announced that he was getting married: “You and Kakarrot’s brat have been together your whole lives. Why bother with all of this?” Predictably, he was entirely unhelpful in any and all wedding plans.
“What about daisies?” Goten tried. “Those are yellow and white, right?”
Marron had opted for yellow for their scheme with white accents, stating that a light yellow would complement Trunks’s hair (as it turned out, not many things didn’t clash with lavender) and that another color would be too much-even though Goten, again trying to be helpful, had suggested just making lavender the other color.
“Daisies are kind of pedestrian,” the florist said, struggling to keep her tone genial.
“Plus, I don’t want a daisy pinned to my jacket,” Trunks put in. “I’d look like a clown.”
Goten leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But a sexy clown!”
“No daisies.”
“What about yellow roses?” Bra suggested. “I mean, they’re kind of done but-”
“Too bright,” the florist interrupted. “Unless we can find some that are the right shade of yellow…like a hybrid tea rose…”
Trunks let out an aggravated sigh. Apparently his patience was wearing thin, too.
“How about we just pin sunflowers to our tuxes and call it a day so we can be done with this fucking nonsense?”
Marron glanced over and sighed. “Trunks, stop. You sounded like your dad just now and it creeped me out.”
Trunks growled a little and folded his arms over his chest. Bra, meanwhile, felt her mood sour. At the mention of her dad, she was reminded of the scene in the kitchen earlier. Just where was her dad and why was her mom being so weird about it?
Fandom: Dragon Ball Z
Chapter: 01
Character(s): several; starring Pan and Bra
Pairing(s): several
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Akira Toriyama does along with assorted others.
Warnings: usual warning along with the rating but nothing else explicitly except for an established M/M relationship
Author's Note: I'm ignoring the epilogue of GT but reluctantly leaving the rest as canon
Summary: in which the adventures of Pan-pipes and Wonder-bra are told.
--
Pan didn’t understand why people griped so much that Mondays sucked. If they were truly in the know, they would state the truth: Tuesdays were the worst day. Mondays, at least, were the start of the week. Sure, for Pan, that meant high school, but there was something about Mondays that made her feel…excited. As if she was going to embark on a great adventure rather than toil away for six hours at school.
Tuesdays, meanwhile, the sense of despair had set in and she found herself realizing that this was going to be her week; that she was going to be stuck in this cinderblock hell for the rest of the week. Every day after that, though, the hope came back as the week was nearly done.
She liked to think on the bright side all days but Tuesday, which was-of course-what today was. Pan reluctantly dragged herself out of bed and ruffled her close-cropped hair with one hand. She yawned and stretched, balling her fists and lifting both arms in the air as she arched her back.
She dragged herself into the bathroom and washed her face in an attempt to wake herself up. She quickly brushed her teeth and opened the medicine cabinet mounted on the wall. From it, she extracted a tube of moisturized. Pan didn’t really bother with make-up for the most part. She didn’t mind it but really had no way to properly apply it without her best friend Bra or make-up whiz Marron around to help her. She wasn’t half-bad at putting makeup on other people but when it came to herself, she may as well have tried doing it blindfolded. She squirted some moisturizer on her face and then rubbed on some cherry-flavored lip balm.
Pan went back into her room and grabbed some clothes, realizing she was dawdling and had to hurry to school. She attached her badge to the waistband of her jeans, nearly stabbing herself in the process and grabbed her bag.
She dashed downstairs, hoping she hadn’t spent too long dragging her feet that she couldn’t have breakfast. She found her mother and father downstairs, wrapping theirs up.
“You’re running late,” her father remarked, not looking up from the dry-looking textbook he was reading. “You’ll have to hurry if you don’t want another write up for being tardy.”
Pan frowned inwardly. Her dad seemed to always know whenever she got in trouble for truancy or being late. Granted, it was probably because she had to bring home a book every day and have one of her parents sign off on it and that book would detail her getting put on detention or skipping class. Her mother didn’t mind as much but her dad was pretty adamant about her misbehavior.
“Does this mean I’ll have to skip breakfast, which-as you know-is the most important meal of the day and to miss breakfast would mean I would be at a slow pace for the rest of the day, seriously endangering my academic aptitude and-”
She was cut off by her mother handing her a piece of toast.
“You can eat it on the way,” she informed her with a smile.
Pan twisted her mouth slightly but still gratefully took the toast, knowing it was better than nothing.
“Fine-I’ll see you guys later, then.”
She stuck the toast in her mouth and headed out the door, ready to fly to school.
--
Apparently luck was on her side as, when Pan arrived at school, the first warning bell had yet to ring. She had walked the last mile or so, not wanting to draw attention to herself by flying right up to the school. She was made fun of enough.
Immediately, she made a beeline for Bra’s locker, knowing her friend would be there. Sure enough, she spotted her familiar mane of blue hair amongst the other students and ran up to her.
“Wonder-bra!” she cried happily, wrapping her arms around her from behind.
“Pan-pipes!” the other girl responded, hugging her back as if they hadn’t just hung out yesterday.
Pan noticed that there were several intricate, tiny braids in Bra’s long, blue hair and knew that it meant that Marron had gotten her hands on her. No one was sure if Marron wanted to be a wedding planner, fashion designer, makeup artist, or hair stylist but she seemed to love doing all of it. Although, the last of those was mostly just her braiding people’s hair idly as she spoke to them or messing with it in general. Everyone had fallen victim to Marron’s hair-braiding, regardless of gender or willingness. Pan was glad that her hair was too short for braids so the blonde woman just ran her fingers through her hair when she spoke to her. It wasn’t that Marron was untalented at it, either. Looking at the braids in Bra’s hair, she knew that it hadn’t taken her very long to get the desired results. It simply got kind of annoying when you were talking to her and she started futzing with your hair.
“Did Uncle Krillin and Aunt 18 come over for breakfast?” she asked, reaching out and fingering one of the braids.
Bra nodded. “Yep. And I didn’t have time to undo them before I came to school, so…but they look alright, yeah?”
She nodded the affirmative. Then again, in her opinion, Bra always looked good. Her clothes were always incredibly cool if they were new or from secondhand shops. She always let Pan borrow whatever she wanted to as well. While she wasn’t into fashion entirely, she did know what looked cool and always felt a tiny boost in confidence when she wore an ensemble borrowed from her best friend.
“Anything else exciting happen this morning?” Pan asked.
Bra closed her locker with a metallic clank and shrugged.
“No-except Boxer found out if you flush toilet paper, it makes the entire roll spin. That was fun to wake up to.”
Pan laughed. Boxer was Bra’s three-year-old brother and a surprise to everyone but especially her parents. He was a cute kid, if a bit of a troublemaker, and he resembled Vegeta in miniature. Pan liked him so long as she didn’t have to babysit him. Even she and Bra together weren’t enough to fend off his mischief.
They walked undisturbed to homeroom. Pan wasn’t surprised and it was a welcome change from whispers and jeers. She and Bra weren’t particularly popular with the majority of the school. Because they spent so much time together, a lot of kids thought they were stuck up. And those were the kids who even knew who they were. Pan was virtually invisible at school. Bra, at least, had a reputation but that was only because she had made out with more boys than Wachessa. Wachessa could get away with it because she was pretty and popular and, coincidentally, also had blue hair. Bra was pretty and, of course, had blue hair but she wasn’t popular so the student body thought it was perfectly fine to write Bra Briefs is a slut! on the wall of the boys’ washroom. Outside occasional taunts, though, they were mostly ignored except in drama class.
Freshmen year, Bra had begged Pan to sign up for drama with her and she hadn’t regretted it. Unlike her friend-who dreamed of being a famous stage actress-Pan knew she wasn’t that talented an actress but she enjoyed being in the plays and musicals all the same.
“So what are you doing after school?” Pan asked, pushing open the door to their classroom.
“Wedding stuff…um…picking our scene for performances next Friday and training with my dad.”
Pan raised her eyebrows, surprised at that last one. “Training?”
Bra shrugged and slid into her seat.
“Well…I see what he and Trunks can do and it’s super exciting. I kind of want to fight like they do. Maybe I could become a Super Saiyan, too, or something.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Although my dad says that it’s awakened by rage and you’re always at least a little pissed off so it might take a bit.”
Bra stuck her tongue out at her but then laughed. Everyone knew that she had inherited her temper straight from her father.
“What wedding stuff?”
Before the blue-haired girl could answer, the first warning bell sounded and other students began trickling into the classroom.
“Flowers,” she said once the ringing had stopped. “Marron begged me to come with her to the florist to try and help her talk sense into my brother.”
Pan laughed. “Yeah, he and Uncle Goten aren’t exactly well-versed in matching flower colors.”
“Thank Kami for Marron, right?”
Both girls snickered. Trunks and Pan’s Uncle Goten were getting married in a couple of weeks but still had no clue how to actually do any of the proper wedding things, which was where Marron-ace wedding planner-came in. Armed with a clipboard, she was easily getting the tasks done for the dense duo. She had picked a color scheme that would complement not only the wedding party but wouldn’t clash with Trunks’s hair and was handling basically everything for them. The only things the two of them were interested in were vows and the catering menu. Pan was pretty excited about the wedding but, at the same time, wished her grandpa could have been there. It had been three years since he had left with Shenron and she still missed him and knew everyone else did, too.
The late bell rang, signaling the beginning of class and effectively putting an end to the girls’ conversation.
--
After school, Bra hugged Pan good-bye (earning at least two cough-in-hand “dykes!” from her more Neanderthal classmates) and hurried home. Unlike her best friend, she didn’t have to hurry or fly to get back to a remote mountain. She could easily just walk home. In truth, she wanted to practice her flying-she was getting pretty good at it-but the city wasn’t the place for that. She would have to wait until Friday when she spent the night at Pan’s and she could practice, unfettered.
She mounted the steps to her house and, nearing the door, she heard a muffled but very familiar voice inside. Growing excited, she opened the door and dumped her back in the foyer before darting into the kitchen. Sure enough, seated across from her mother was Yamcha. He had Boxer on his lap and was nursing a cup of coffee. He had cut off his ponytail recently-her mother had teased him about it endlessly.
“Uncle Yamcha!” Bra called excitedly, rushing over to give him a hug. The embrace was awkward as he had her brother on him and she was trying to hug him while he was seated.
“Hey!” he said back, trying to twist in the chair to hug her in return without dumping Boxer on the ground.
“Hello to you, too,” her mother said, smiling a little. “How was school, hon?”
Bra stood upright and shrugged. “Same ‘ol, same ‘ol. I’ll put my handbook on the counter for you to sign later.”
Her mother nodded. “Sounds good. Now sit with us for a bit before Marron picks you up.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Bra loved when Uncle Yamcha came to visit them. He had worried-so she was told-when her mom had assured him that he could be all of their kids’ cool uncle that that only lasted for so long before he became the “creepy uncle” but he remained entirely awesome. She loved hearing his stories about the old days and kept meaning to ask him to teach her how to do his wolf fang fist because she thought it looked neat.
“Bah!” Boxer waved at her as if he had just noticed that she was there. “Bah home!”
She smiled and reached across the table to muss her little brother’s hair. He could be devil incarnate sometimes but other times-like now-he was just an adorable three-year-old.
“Where’s dad?” she asked.
Her mother and Yamcha glanced at each other briefly.
“Oh, uh…he’s out,” her mom replied in a hasty-sounding voice.
“Out where?”
“Just out,” Yamcha supplied quickly. “Uh, didn’t say where.”
Bra crinkled her brow, growing annoyed.
“Well, when’s he coming back?”
“Oh, who knows? You know your dad.” Her mom laughed in a fake-sounding way.
Okay…what the hell is this about?
She knew not to press, though, since if her mom and Yamcha were being this cagey, there was no way they’d tell her where her dad actually was.
“Daddy go bye-bye fly!” Boxer put in, obviously trying to be helpful.
Bra narrowed her eyes and shifted her gaze between Yamcha and her mom before slowing pushing her chair back and rising from the table.
“I’m gonna go do some homework before Marron comes,” she said, still glaring as she slipped away into her room.
They were so busy with their little farce that they didn’t even notice that Bra didn’t take her backpack-thus cementing her lie about doing homework-with her into her room. Once there, she sat on her bed and folded her arms. Just what was going on? Where was her dad and why were Yamcha and her mom being so weird about it?
--
“While calla lilies are more associated with funerals, I do believe that they are making a comeback in more…positive formal events. Including weddings…”
The florist was seated on a whicker bench, one leg crossed over the other as she rhapsodized about various flowers.
“Does it smell?” Goten asked. “Because I don’t want anything smelly.”
A nerve under the florist’s eye twitched a little but she forced a smile onto her face and brushed some red hair from her eyes.
“Oh, no. Calla lilies don’t smell at all and since they’re white and yellow, should nicely complement your wedding scheme.”
Bra couldn’t blame her for losing patience with them. Trunks and Goten were predictably clueless about flowers and Marron could only interject so much. Bra herself could only comment on colors since she knew diddly squat about longevity or fragrance. Although she thought calla lilies were a poor idea. They reminded her too much of funerals, wax-faced corpses, and death. Weddings were about celebrating life.
Not that she or Trunks had that much basis. She had never been to a wedding and he had only been to two: Krillin and 18’s and Gohan and Videl’s. Their own parents never got married as their father didn’t see the reason. He had said, according to their mother, “You’re my mate and I’m yours. I don’t see why some asinine ceremony and paperwork has to become involved.” He had said the same thing when Trunks announced that he was getting married: “You and Kakarrot’s brat have been together your whole lives. Why bother with all of this?” Predictably, he was entirely unhelpful in any and all wedding plans.
“What about daisies?” Goten tried. “Those are yellow and white, right?”
Marron had opted for yellow for their scheme with white accents, stating that a light yellow would complement Trunks’s hair (as it turned out, not many things didn’t clash with lavender) and that another color would be too much-even though Goten, again trying to be helpful, had suggested just making lavender the other color.
“Daisies are kind of pedestrian,” the florist said, struggling to keep her tone genial.
“Plus, I don’t want a daisy pinned to my jacket,” Trunks put in. “I’d look like a clown.”
Goten leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But a sexy clown!”
“No daisies.”
“What about yellow roses?” Bra suggested. “I mean, they’re kind of done but-”
“Too bright,” the florist interrupted. “Unless we can find some that are the right shade of yellow…like a hybrid tea rose…”
Trunks let out an aggravated sigh. Apparently his patience was wearing thin, too.
“How about we just pin sunflowers to our tuxes and call it a day so we can be done with this fucking nonsense?”
Marron glanced over and sighed. “Trunks, stop. You sounded like your dad just now and it creeped me out.”
Trunks growled a little and folded his arms over his chest. Bra, meanwhile, felt her mood sour. At the mention of her dad, she was reminded of the scene in the kitchen earlier. Just where was her dad and why was her mom being so weird about it?