Hunger: The Morning After
Sequel to "Hunger"
Morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, a light breeze blew over head . . . the very epitome of a perfect day. Only one thing could make this kind of day even better, and that's being with the one you love. Corny, I know. But, you see, I am with the one I love! And I couldn't be happier! But, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Let us journey back a bit, to the morning after I gave in to my hunger. Er, where I had started before I digressed.
Like I previously stated, it was a beautiful morning. At the Son house, Chichi was busy making breakfast, and hadn't had time to enjoy it. The motley crew outside, however, were enjoying every bit of it. Goku, Gohan, and Goten were taking turns bathing in the barrel, since no more than one of them can fit at a time. At the moment, Goku was taking his time, relaxing in the hot water. While waiting for his turn, Gohan sat under the tree Piccolo was meditating under. Goten chased a squirrel around the yard. Chichi saw this and leaned out the kitchen window.
"Goten! How many times do I have to tell you not to chase animals without any clothes on?!? For pity's sake, you're not a kid any more!" Yet again, Chichi silently thanked Kami that they lived in the woods.
"Sorry, Mom! I forgot!" Goten said sheepishly, a hand behind his head. Chichi groaned and went back to cooking.
"Really, Goten, you're 18! When are you going to stop chasing squirrels?" Gohan chided teasingly.
"Oh, probably when you stop chasing Piccolo." Goten crossed his arms over his chest.
"That's called 'training'."
"So, what you do after you catch him is also 'training'?" Goten teased. Gohan turned a bright red. Goten began laughing at his brother's embarrassment.
"That's it! I'm gonna get you for that!" Gohan shot up and ran after Goten, who began running the second Gohan was on his feet. Gohan chased his little brother all over the yard, through the trees, over the house . . . losing his towel in the process. Chichi happened to look out the window as the two raced past. She began banging her head against the wall.
"Why . . ." *thump* " . . .me . . ." *thump* " . . . why . . ." *thump* " . . . ME?!?" *thump thump thump*
"Goku . . ." Piccolo spoke calmly, his eyes still closed.
"Hmm?" Goku's eyes were also closed, facing the rising sun.
"Aren't you going to stop them?"
"Stop who?" It was at this point that the two barreled past the, uh, barrel, causing it to tilt and spill some of the water. "Whoa! Hey, guys! Wait up!" Goku jumped out of the barrel and chased after his offspring. As you can imagine, the sight of three saiyans chasing each other, completely in the buff, could cause numerous reactions. Piccolo watched in bewilderment, not quite believing what he was seeing. Chichi, who had come out to tell them breakfast was ready, just stood there and stared. She looked like she was either going to faint, or grab a frying pan and start swinging. She did neither, however, as the trio spotted her and hit the brakes. And a tree. And Piccolo who had been sitting under said tree. The three saiyan and one namek pile-up caused a fit of laughter to erupt from the woman standing on the porch. She was the only one laughing, for the others could only groan.
Meanwhile, the residents at Capsule Corp were having their own problems.
"Moooooooooooooom!!!!! Trunks won't get up!" Bra hollered down stairs.
"Tell him I said to get up!" Bulma yelled back.
"I did! He still won't get up!"
"Tell him if he doesn't get up right now, I'll send Vegeta in after him!" Bulma was sure that would get him.
"That won't work!"
"Daddy's not up, either!" Bra told her, and half the neighborhood.
"You're kidding me." Bulma said, quite puzzled. Vegeta was usually the first person out of bed.
"What?" Bra hadn't heard her last comment clearly.
"Never mind! I'll get them up myself! You get ready for breakfast!"
"Okay!" Bra headed for her room. "I just hope you're not cooking!"
"Just wondering who's cooking today!" Bra panicked.
"Oh, I am!" Bra grimaced as the words echoed in her ears.
"Great!" She could already feel her stomach complain.
Trunks groaned as he rolled off his bed, and landed on his face.
"Damn." He said into the carpet. He pushed up slightly and shook his head, trying to clear the sleep from his muddled brain. Clumsily, he climbed to his feet, getting a good idea what a new born giraffe feels like. He gripped the windowsill and looked out his open window, squinting at the early morning sun. He looked at his clock. 9:05 . . . Okay, mid-morning sun.
Besieged by a rather large yawn, Trunks stretched and . . . well, yawned, proceeding to scratch his chest and 'other' areas. Now remembering his state of dress, which was nothing, he moved away from the window and began searching for clean clothing. Not an easy task with the 'disaster area' type mess his room was in. Struck by a brilliant idea, he checked his dresser. In the top drawer, he found an array of clean underwear.* Looking over the selection, he settled on a pair of blue and white striped, soft cotton, boxers. He slipped them on, shutting the drawer with his elbow. Next drawer, 'casual' shirts. Trunks rummaged through his t-shirts, passing up the plain white shirts, the 'smart-ass' slogan shirts, and the 'billboard' shirts. Instead, he chose a '80's style, dark purple t-shirt, that was completely open on both sides.** Bulma hated that shirt. Trunks smiled. He pulled it on, the soft clothe flowing over his well-formed chest. Hearing footsteps approaching his door, trunks leaned onto the dresser, using his body weight to slide the drawer home.
"I'm up, Mom." Bulma paused outside the door, her fist poised to knock.
Why does he always do this to me? Bulma thought.
"Hurry up, breakfast is waiting." Bulma called through the door. "And wake your father." She added, not wanting to have to deal with Vegeta just yet. Trunks paused.
Did she just say 'wake your father'? Trunks wondered. But before he could say 'boo' about it, Bulma was down the stairs. He shrugged and opened the third drawer. Empty.
"Where the hell are all my jeans?" He pondered aloud. Shutting the drawer, he looked around to see if they were any scattered about. He spotted a few, but not enough to account for amount missing. He leapt over a pile of books left over from the last school year,*** and over to his closet where his 'formal' clothes resided. He opened the doors and, amazingly, was not buried under a pile of junk. Lo and behold, there were all his missing jeans, neatly pressed and hung.~
"Damnit! Not again! How many times do I have to tell her not to press and hang my jeans?!?" Trunks began pulling them off the hangers. "This is ridiculous! My short, too?!?" He tossed the lot of them onto his bed, though some didn't quite make it. Plopping down on top of them, he promptly began 'wearing them in', working out the creases. Satisfied with the results, he picked through the denim pile, searching for the right pair. He chose a pair of stone-washed cutoffs, that were almost scandalously short. Wiggling into them, he checked the clock. 9:21. He was running short on time. Tucking only the edge of his shirt into his waist band, Trunks searched the littered floor for some shoes. Sandal, boot, sneaker, high-heel . . . High-heel? Well, could find one half of a pair easily, but not the other. A little digging and he found the other sandal. He put them on quickly, vowing to clean his room when he got back. He rushed downstairs and into the kitchen.
"Mom, she did it again! Can't you program her to keep stop doing that?" Trunks complained, sitting down at the table.
"Sorry, Trunks. I'll check Rosy's programing this afternoon." Bulma promised as she sipped her tea.
"Did you wake Daddy?" Bra asked him.
"I forgot." Trunks said around a mouthful of a substance that was suppose to be scrambled eggs. "Why don't you get him up?."
"Mom told you to, you wake him!"
"I'm in a hurry!"
"That's no excuse!"
"Kids, please! At this rate, you'll wake him with your bickering!" Bulma called for a cease fire. "Trunks . . ."
"I'm going, I'm going." Trunks got up and headed out the kitchen.
"And change your shirt." She called after him. Trunks cringed and ran up the stairs.
I awoke to a deep, throaty purr emitting from my love's chest. I opened my eyes and looked up to see a smile on his face. My lips formed their own smile as I snuggled closer to him, my arms wrapping around his muscular torso. I felt his arms encase me as he kissed the top of my head. I felt as if I were still dreaming. I looked up again, and he met my lips with his, his tongue teasing my open mouth. He pulled me on top of him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, as he held me tightly to him. As I plundered his mouth, I could feel him growing beneath me. I wasn't far behind. He began to . . .
"Vegeta? Are you awake?" Trunks paused. "Mom said to get you up. Breakfast is ready. " Another pause. "Are you even in there?" I had hoped that Trunks would think the room was empty and leave. "If you are, say something, or I'll just come in." No such luck. I then wondered if Vegeta had locked the door last night.
He hadn't. I looked at Vegeta, asking what should we do. In answer, he picked me up and shot us into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door just as Trunks swung open the other. I turned the shower on. Hearing the running water, Trunks considered his task done, and went back to breakfast, a knowing smile upon his face.
"That was close." I whispered upon hearing the door close. But I had forgotten one tiny little detail. My clothes.~~
"Well?" Bulma asked upon Trunks' return.
"He's in the shower." He said, still grinning. And he's not alone, the old dog!
"Why are you grinning like that?" Bra asked.
"Huh? Oh, no reason." He said, getting back to his imitation breakfast.
"Come on! What is it?" Bra pestered.
"We~ell . . . it's because I know something you don't know!" he said in a sing-song voice.
"Mo~om! Make him tell me!" Bra whined.
"Trunks, stop teasing her." Bulma said from behind her paper.
"Nope, can't tell ya! You wouldn't to know, anyhow. Trust me." Somehow, trunks managed to finish off the substance being pass off as food (period) during all the commotion.
"Why not?" Bra demanded. "It makes you smile like an idiot, so why would I not want to know?"
"Look. If I told you, you would just get angry at me for telling you! Know why? Because you wouldn't understand, that's why! I don't think Mom would want to know, either. So just forget about it!" Trunks chugged the rest of his milk, wiped off the resulting mustache, and ran out the door, tossing a 'See ya!' over his shoulder.
"Oooh! He makes me so mad!" Bra fumed.
"Get used to it, honey. Men will do that to you all your life." Bulma told her.
*Who says the sock drawer has to be on top? Personally, I don't have a sock drawer. ^_~
**Guess who saw an 80's movie the other night? ^_~
***He's 19, how long ago do you think that was? ^^;;
~Not like that, you hentais! ^_~
~~Figured it out yet?
Um, if Trunks is 19, how old would Bra be?