I see the love, I see the hate, I see the world that we can make

"Trunks?" Eighteen asked, just as the young man stepped into the doorway. He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised; she bit her lip, suddenly strangely hesitant. Trunks leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms, waiting for her.

"How does this work?" it looked like the question forced itself out, against her will.

"Honestly," Trunks shrugged, "I don't know. I think we get to sort of make it up as we go along."

"Yeah, but," Seventeen cut himself off, looking away. "What if our programming-"

"Hush." Trunks narrowed his eyes. "If it comes, it comes, and I'll do what needs to be done. But for now," Trunks straightened and held both arms out for them to step into him, "We take it one day at a time."

Eighteen went to him immediately, nuzzling along his jaw, but Seventeen hung back.

"Trunks," the smaller man looked so pained, as he stood apart. "Could you really kill us again?"

"Probably not. But its not the only solution to the problem. C'mon, babe, you know I wont let anything bad happen. So lets go eat." Trunks paused, arm still held out, while Seventeen still hesitated. "Seriously, move that ass; I'm starving."

Seventeen broke into an unwilling smile, and came slowly into the circle of Trunks' arm, and let himself be led to the kitchen.

"Trunks?" Eighteen started, "I'm sorry about the time machine."

"Don't be. I'm sorry I whined so much about the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Okay, now its done.