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Description
Inside Capsule corp. young Trunks was already in bed, sprawled over his covers haphazardly with his fuzzy green ferret plushie curled against him. He always hid the ferret from his father, because he knew it would be frowned upon as a weakness, but he loved it dearly and couldn’t sleep a wink without it. Below Trunks, Bulma and Vegeta were still awake, sharing the loveseat in the TV room and looking rather relaxed and sleepy. Bulma had her head on Vegeta’s shoulder and a hand splayed over his middle, so that she could feel his breathing as she struggled to keep her eyes open for the rest of the movie they were watching. Vegeta had his gloves off, which was a rare sight indeed, considering he sometimes even slept in them. His fingers were laced with Bulma’s over his stomach, and his other hand curled around her waist to keep her close to him. Such calm and peaceful moments were definitely scarce in the Briefs household, but they did happen every once in awhile, perhaps to keep the heads of the house assured that they needed one another in some way. The peaceful moment was interrupted by knocking on the rear door. Bulma stirred, removing her hand from Vegeta’s middle and yawning as she directed her sleepy eyes to the clock. Vegeta gave something of a growl and removed himself from the couch, donning his gloves and heading to the door with a halfhearted glare. He wasn’t quite in the mood to deal with anybody who would be knocking at their back door, because that usually included only z- fighters, namely Kakarot, though he tended not to knock so much as just appear out of thin air. Vegeta yanked the door open and spat a ‘what do you want’ at the young man on the other side of it, blinking in surprise when he recognized the creature standing there as his son from the future. He swallowed his surprise and struggled to place a firm expression on his face, but he did look rather bewildered despite his efforts. Trunks appeared to be exhausted, that was Vegeta’s first impression. He was not in bad health -he had his color and didn’t look thin or neglected- but there were dark circles under his eyes, which were puffy and red, obviously from some rather intense crying. Vegeta felt distaste at seeing his son looking so pathetic, but he supposed it was better than if the boy had showed up still crying. He gave Trunks a snort and looked over him slowly, his eyes resting on the two large, angry looking scars that were visible on his face. He wondered what had happened, and stepped aside to allow the brat into his home. He closed the door behind Trunks, catching Bulma entering the kitchen from the TV room. He heard her gasp in surprise and felt Trunks’ energy shift significantly when his eyes came to rest upon his mother. “Mom...” he whispered, his voice cracking. It was much lower than Vegeta remembered it, more similar to his own, except softer, more boyish. He looked at Trunks’ long messy hair and his very well-loved, however clean clothes. He was unsure of what to say or do just yet, so he folded his arms uncomfortably and took to watching Trunks and Bulma. Bulma came awake quickly when she saw Trunks. She looked him over with worry, fearing that he might have come here because of some deadly wound he had suffered, but upon seeing no blood, she made her way to him and folded the large young man into a tight hug. Her hand came up to stroke his hair for a brief space, and she could feel Trunks shivering against her with emotion. His arms wrapped around her and he lifted her a little off her feet so that he could hug her more tightly to him. Bulma began to suspect why Trunks had come here. He was refusing to let her go; she coughed for lack of air and whispered Trunks’ name. “Trunks honey, what happened?” she asked, regaining her footing and blinking up at him. He had grown, he was taller than her and Vegeta now, closer to Gohan and Goku’s height, though not quite. He appeared to be in good health, he looked strong and firm, though his hair was very pale compared to his younger counterpart. Bulma guessed that this was because Mirai Trunks spent so much time under the sun, and his double liked to hide inside and play with machines and computers. Bulma’s hands came up to trace the scar on Trunks’ cheek. He winced helplessly at the touch and stepped out of her reach. Trunks pushed his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet, finding it hard to look at Bulma. “M-mom died....” He said finally, his voice cracking against his will. Bulma made a sound of acknowledgement and flickered her eyes to Vegeta for a little help. Vegeta glowered at Bulma with an expression that said ‘what do you expect me to do, woman?’, but he uncrossed his arms and cleared his throat. “You will stay here... I will show you to a room, come along brat.” “Thank you father,” Trunks said, leaving Bulma’s searching focus to follow his father out of the room and up the stairs to a guest room. Vegeta pushed a door open and entered into one of the rooms in a long hall. Trunks followed him obediently. There was a queen sized bed, and a wall of large windows, as this room was on the outside of the dome. A few pieces of furniture filled up the room, and there was a door that Trunks suspected led to a private restroom. Trunks murmured thanks to Vegeta, expecting him to leave, but the prince did not. “Brat, aside from the woman’s death, how have you been?” Vegeta leveled his serious black eyes on his son, who sat tiredly on the bed. “I’ve... well a lot of people are rebuilding cities... growing crops... doing a lot of salvaging, though there isn’t much left. They’ll be alright...” “I have no interest in what the humans in your time are wasting their lives trying to accomplish, I asked how it has been with you.” “Me?” “Ah.” “Well... the same I guess... only no androids. They put up a good fight before I defeated them... they tricked me. I was more powerful, but in the time that I spent fighting with everyone here, they kidnapped mom and used her as bait to let them catch me. They gave me these,” Trunks gestured to the slice that had long ago healed over his eye and cheek, and to the one that ran from his jaw to his throat, “but in the end I was stronger and I destroyed them. I took mom back home and things were just... I guess peaceful after that. But she was getting older.... I mean.... because of everything that happened, she went gray, and slept more... eventually she died in her sleep a few days ago. I.... I buried her, and came here. I’m not going back there, whether I stay here or not. I’m not going back to that time.” Vegeta studied Trunks in complete silence, tracing the scars on his face with his eyes, and looking over the rest of him. “You have been through enough, you will stay here, you can baby-sit your younger self, whom, I might add, will likely be pleased to have something of a big brother. Get some rest, we will continue this in the morning. “Goodnight, brat.” “Thank you father, goodnight.” Vegeta left the room, closing the door with a soft click and returning downstairs to have a snack before bed. Bulma wanted to know what he and Trunks had talked about, but Vegeta remained tight-lipped as he stuffed his face, much to Bulma’s annoyance. She headed off to bed, followed roughly ten minutes later by the saiyajin prince.

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Mirai Trunks had his face washed in fresh morning sunlight. A small content smile graced his lips. His long hair was splayed haphazardly over the cool feather pillow, and he had a sheet tangled around his legs and draped over the lower part of his torso. He was breathing slowly in his undisturbed slumber, clearly enjoying his long rest. He hadn’t slept in a fresh clean bed with cushy pillows and breezy sheets for many years. On the other side of the door to Mirai Trunks’ temporary room, stood his eleven-year-old counterpart. This Trunks’ hair was cropped short in his classic bowl-cut. His face was harsh, looking distinctly Vegeta-esque as he glared with immense curiosity at the door behind which he felt a large power. The Ki was identical to his own, and so he had already figured out who was behind the door, but he was itching to know what was going on. Why was the other Trunks here? In his house? Trunks was never one to wait around for answers to come and smack him on the ass, so he opened the door and stepped into the room, lowering his Ki so that his family wouldn’t come and tell him to leave the other Trunks alone. He pushed the door gingerly shut behind him and stood against it, peering about the room. Of course his eyes immediately landed upon the figure that slept on his back in the huge bed. Trunks inhaled through his nose, smelling that his other self was dusty and in need of a shower. He smelled kind of strange... even though they were the same person, the other Trunks’ scent was different. Young Trunks chalked this up to Mirai Trunks’ age. Of course the boy had read all kinds of books, he knew that people changed when they got older and that their bodies did different things and produced different chemicals, which of course would make the older Trunks smell a little differently than he himself did. He took another breath, padding over the plush carpet towards the sleeping man. His ever-alert eyes slowly took in the sight of ‘himself’ as he might look in several years. He felt the childish need to touch the other Trunks, but he forced it down with his father’s stern teachings concerning the importance of self-control ringing in his ears. ‘Man he’s big... I’m gonna be taller than Dad... cool.’ Trunks smirked somewhat triumphantly at this realization. ‘But where’d he get all those scars? Eww... that must be from all his fights with the androids. Fuck that’s gross... wonder if he thinks so too?’ Trunks’ hands came up to rest on the edge of the bed, the urge to touch that which intrigued him surging once more. Trunks focused on one tan and muscled arm which rested over Mirai Trunks’ stomach, holding a loose fistful of billowy white sheets. He leaned closer to study the scores of pale lines from various scrapes and slices and blasts. Trunks leaned closer until his breath tickled the fine lavender hairs on his double’s arm, causing the strange man to shift in his sleep and moan quietly. Trunks snapped back into a standing position, hoping that he wouldn’t be caught yet. He wanted to look more before Mirai Trunks woke up and found him out. When he felt sure that the other him would continue to sleep peacefully, young Trunks moved back into his studious position leaning over the edge of the bed to look at ‘himself.’ This time he studied the older man’s face. He noted the yucky slices that had healed into scars on Trunks’ face, wrinkling his nose and feeling very glad that it wasn’t him personally who’d been in that other timeline. Then the man rolled over on his back and his eyes started to flutter open and he blinked once as he saw Trunks staring down at him with intense eyes. The two stared at each other for a moment before Mirai Trunks spoke. “Uh…hey…can I help you with something…? Uh…Trunks?” Trunks stared for a while studying some more scars. “Um…I was just wondering why you’re here…?” Trunks asked. “Uh… I don’t want to talk about it…” He yawned. “I’m starving let’s go find um… mom…and see if she can make us something…”

Description
Inside Capsule corp. young Trunks was already in bed, sprawled over his covers haphazardly with his fuzzy green ferret plushie curled against him. He always hid the ferret from his father, because he knew it would be frowned upon as a weakness, but he loved it dearly and couldn’t sleep a wink without it. Below Trunks, Bulma and Vegeta were still awake, sharing the loveseat in the TV room and looking rather relaxed and sleepy. Bulma had her head on Vegeta’s shoulder and a hand splayed over his middle, so that she could feel his breathing as she struggled to keep her eyes open for the rest of the movie they were watching. Vegeta had his gloves off, which was a rare sight indeed, considering he sometimes even slept in them. His fingers were laced with Bulma’s over his stomach, and his other hand curled around her waist to keep her close to him. Such calm and peaceful moments were definitely scarce in the Briefs household, but they did happen every once in awhile, perhaps to keep the heads of the house assured that they needed one another in some way. The peaceful moment was interrupted by knocking on the rear door. Bulma stirred, removing her hand from Vegeta’s middle and yawning as she directed her sleepy eyes to the clock. Vegeta gave something of a growl and removed himself from the couch, donning his gloves and heading to the door with a halfhearted glare. He wasn’t quite in the mood to deal with anybody who would be knocking at their back door, because that usually included only z- fighters, namely Kakarot, though he tended not to knock so much as just appear out of thin air. Vegeta yanked the door open and spat a ‘what do you want’ at the young man on the other side of it, blinking in surprise when he recognized the creature standing there as his son from the future. He swallowed his surprise and struggled to place a firm expression on his face, but he did look rather bewildered despite his efforts. Trunks appeared to be exhausted, that was Vegeta’s first impression. He was not in bad health -he had his color and didn’t look thin or neglected- but there were dark circles under his eyes, which were puffy and red, obviously from some rather intense crying. Vegeta felt distaste at seeing his son looking so pathetic, but he supposed it was better than if the boy had showed up still crying. He gave Trunks a snort and looked over him slowly, his eyes resting on the two large, angry looking scars that were visible on his face. He wondered what had happened, and stepped aside to allow the brat into his home. He closed the door behind Trunks, catching Bulma entering the kitchen from the TV room. He heard her gasp in surprise and felt Trunks’ energy shift significantly when his eyes came to rest upon his mother. “Mom...” he whispered, his voice cracking. It was much lower than Vegeta remembered it, more similar to his own, except softer, more boyish. He looked at Trunks’ long messy hair and his very well-loved, however clean clothes. He was unsure of what to say or do just yet, so he folded his arms uncomfortably and took to watching Trunks and Bulma. Bulma came awake quickly when she saw Trunks. She looked him over with worry, fearing that he might have come here because of some deadly wound he had suffered, but upon seeing no blood, she made her way to him and folded the large young man into a tight hug. Her hand came up to stroke his hair for a brief space, and she could feel Trunks shivering against her with emotion. His arms wrapped around her and he lifted her a little off her feet so that he could hug her more tightly to him. Bulma began to suspect why Trunks had come here. He was refusing to let her go; she coughed for lack of air and whispered Trunks’ name. “Trunks honey, what happened?” she asked, regaining her footing and blinking up at him. He had grown, he was taller than her and Vegeta now, closer to Gohan and Goku’s height, though not quite. He appeared to be in good health, he looked strong and firm, though his hair was very pale compared to his younger counterpart. Bulma guessed that this was because Mirai Trunks spent so much time under the sun, and his double liked to hide inside and play with machines and computers. Bulma’s hands came up to trace the scar on Trunks’ cheek. He winced helplessly at the touch and stepped out of her reach. Trunks pushed his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet, finding it hard to look at Bulma. “M-mom died....” He said finally, his voice cracking against his will. Bulma made a sound of acknowledgement and flickered her eyes to Vegeta for a little help. Vegeta glowered at Bulma with an expression that said ‘what do you expect me to do, woman?’, but he uncrossed his arms and cleared his throat. “You will stay here... I will show you to a room, come along brat.” “Thank you father,” Trunks said, leaving Bulma’s searching focus to follow his father out of the room and up the stairs to a guest room. Vegeta pushed a door open and entered into one of the rooms in a long hall. Trunks followed him obediently. There was a queen sized bed, and a wall of large windows, as this room was on the outside of the dome. A few pieces of furniture filled up the room, and there was a door that Trunks suspected led to a private restroom. Trunks murmured thanks to Vegeta, expecting him to leave, but the prince did not. “Brat, aside from the woman’s death, how have you been?” Vegeta leveled his serious black eyes on his son, who sat tiredly on the bed. “I’ve... well a lot of people are rebuilding cities... growing crops... doing a lot of salvaging, though there isn’t much left. They’ll be alright...” “I have no interest in what the humans in your time are wasting their lives trying to accomplish, I asked how it has been with you.” “Me?” “Ah.” “Well... the same I guess... only no androids. They put up a good fight before I defeated them... they tricked me. I was more powerful, but in the time that I spent fighting with everyone here, they kidnapped mom and used her as bait to let them catch me. They gave me these,” Trunks gestured to the slice that had long ago healed over his eye and cheek, and to the one that ran from his jaw to his throat, “but in the end I was stronger and I destroyed them. I took mom back home and things were just... I guess peaceful after that. But she was getting older.... I mean.... because of everything that happened, she went gray, and slept more... eventually she died in her sleep a few days ago. I.... I buried her, and came here. I’m not going back there, whether I stay here or not. I’m not going back to that time.” Vegeta studied Trunks in complete silence, tracing the scars on his face with his eyes, and looking over the rest of him. “You have been through enough, you will stay here, you can baby-sit your younger self, whom, I might add, will likely be pleased to have something of a big brother. Get some rest, we will continue this in the morning. “Goodnight, brat.” “Thank you father, goodnight.” Vegeta left the room, closing the door with a soft click and returning downstairs to have a snack before bed. Bulma wanted to know what he and Trunks had talked about, but Vegeta remained tight-lipped as he stuffed his face, much to Bulma’s annoyance. She headed off to bed, followed roughly ten minutes later by the saiyajin prince.

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

Mirai Trunks had his face washed in fresh morning sunlight. A small content smile graced his lips. His long hair was splayed haphazardly over the cool feather pillow, and he had a sheet tangled around his legs and draped over the lower part of his torso. He was breathing slowly in his undisturbed slumber, clearly enjoying his long rest. He hadn’t slept in a fresh clean bed with cushy pillows and breezy sheets for many years. On the other side of the door to Mirai Trunks’ temporary room, stood his eleven-year-old counterpart. This Trunks’ hair was cropped short in his classic bowl-cut. His face was harsh, looking distinctly Vegeta-esque as he glared with immense curiosity at the door behind which he felt a large power. The Ki was identical to his own, and so he had already figured out who was behind the door, but he was itching to know what was going on. Why was the other Trunks here? In his house? Trunks was never one to wait around for answers to come and smack him on the ass, so he opened the door and stepped into the room, lowering his Ki so that his family wouldn’t come and tell him to leave the other Trunks alone. He pushed the door gingerly shut behind him and stood against it, peering about the room. Of course his eyes immediately landed upon the figure that slept on his back in the huge bed. Trunks inhaled through his nose, smelling that his other self was dusty and in need of a shower. He smelled kind of strange... even though they were the same person, the other Trunks’ scent was different. Young Trunks chalked this up to Mirai Trunks’ age. Of course the boy had read all kinds of books, he knew that people changed when they got older and that their bodies did different things and produced different chemicals, which of course would make the older Trunks smell a little differently than he himself did. He took another breath, padding over the plush carpet towards the sleeping man. His ever-alert eyes slowly took in the sight of ‘himself’ as he might look in several years. He felt the childish need to touch the other Trunks, but he forced it down with his father’s stern teachings concerning the importance of self-control ringing in his ears. ‘Man he’s big... I’m gonna be taller than Dad... cool.’ Trunks smirked somewhat triumphantly at this realization. ‘But where’d he get all those scars? Eww... that must be from all his fights with the androids. Fuck that’s gross... wonder if he thinks so too?’ Trunks’ hands came up to rest on the edge of the bed, the urge to touch that which intrigued him surging once more. Trunks focused on one tan and muscled arm which rested over Mirai Trunks’ stomach, holding a loose fistful of billowy white sheets. He leaned closer to study the scores of pale lines from various scrapes and slices and blasts. Trunks leaned closer until his breath tickled the fine lavender hairs on his double’s arm, causing the strange man to shift in his sleep and moan quietly. Trunks snapped back into a standing position, hoping that he wouldn’t be caught yet. He wanted to look more before Mirai Trunks woke up and found him out. When he felt sure that the other him would continue to sleep peacefully, young Trunks moved back into his studious position leaning over the edge of the bed to look at ‘himself.’ This time he studied the older man’s face. He noted the yucky slices that had healed into scars on Trunks’ face, wrinkling his nose and feeling very glad that it wasn’t him personally who’d been in that other timeline. Then the man rolled over on his back and his eyes started to flutter open and he blinked once as he saw Trunks staring down at him with intense eyes. The two stared at each other for a moment before Mirai Trunks spoke. “Uh…hey…can I help you with something…? Uh…Trunks?” Trunks stared for a while studying some more scars. “Um…I was just wondering why you’re here…?” Trunks asked. “Uh… I don’t want to talk about it…” He yawned. “I’m starving let’s go find um… mom…and see if she can make us something…”