Mr. Satan's Lovechild

Space gets boring after a while. Pan learns something she didn't know about Trunks.

"I think my favorite theory," Trunks slurred, gesturing upwards expansively, "is the one where," he turned his head to look his diminutive companion in the eye and grin mischievously. "I'm Mr. Satan's lovechild."

"You're what?" Pan shrieked, having just walked into the room with a tray of food. Her grandfather and Trunks were sprawled out on the floor, cheeks flushed red. Trunks rolled his eyes.

"Back when I was born," he explained patiently. "There were. Alllll kinds of theories about who was the father." He hiccupped. "That one's my favorite."

Goku giggled and took another swig from the bottle.

"Are you two drinking?" Pan demanded, horrified.

"Yup," they said in unison.

"Can I have some?" she asked, reaching for the bottle. Goku snatched it away, cradling it to his chest protectively.

"No, Pan," he said. "You're too young."

"You're younger than me right now, Grandpa," she protested. "Why is there alcohol onboard, anyway?"

"Well, it was going to be me and Goten," Trunks explained, grinning. "Too bad you're a minor."

Pan growled in frustration and left with her tray, resolving to eat somewhere else.